Mr. Tulkinghorn, comprehending it, inclines his head, and says he is much obliged.
" I should have come down sooner," he explains, " but that I have been much engaged with those matters in the several suits between yourself and Boythorn."
" A man of a very ill-regulated mind," observes Sir Leicester, with severity. " An extremely dangerous person in any community. A man of a very low character of mind."
" He is obstinate," says Mr. Tulkinghorn.
" It is natural to such a man to be so," says Sir Leicester, looking most profoundly obstinate himself. " I am not at all surprised to hear it."
" The only question is," pursues the lawyer, " whether you will give up anything."
" No, sir," replies Sir Leicester. " Nothing. I give up ? "
" I don't mean any thing of importance. That, of course, I know you would not abandon. I mean any minor point."
" Mr. Tulkinghorn," returns Sir Leicester, " there can be no minor point between myself and Mr. Boythorn. If I go farther, and observe that I cannot readily conceive how any right of mine can be a minor point, I speak not so much in reference to myself as an individual, as in reference to the family position I have it in charge to maintain."
Mr. Tulkinghorn inclines his head again. " I have now my instructions," he says. " Mr. Boythorn will give us a good deal of trouble—"
" It is the character of such a mind, Mr. Tulkinghorn," Sir Leicester interrupts him, "to give trouble. An exceedingly ill-conditioned, levelling person. A person who, fifty years ago, would probably have been tried at the Old Bailey for some demagogue proceeding, and severely punished—if not," adds Sir Leicester, after a moment's pause, " if not hanged, drawn, and quartered."
Sir Leicester appears to discharge his stately breast of a burden, in passing this capital sentence ; as if it were the next satisfactory thing to having the sentence executed.
" But night is coming on," says he, " and my Lady will take cold. My dear, let us go in."
As they turn towards the hall-door. Lady Dedlock addresses Mr. Tulkinghorn for the first time.
"You sent me a message respecting the person whose writing I happened to inquire about. It was like you to remember the circumstance ; I had quite forgotten it. Your message reminded me of it again. I can't imagine what association I had, with a hand like that; but I surely had some."
" You had some ? " Mr. Tulkinghorn repeats.
" O yes ! " returns my Lady, carelessly. " I think I must have had some. And did you really take the trouble to find out the writer of that actual thing—what is it !— Affidavit ? "
"Yes."
" How very odd ! "
They pass into a sombre breakfast-room on the ground-floor, lighted in the day by two deep windows. It is now twilight. The fire glows brightly on the panelled wall, and palely on the window-glass, where,
