In the course of two days Mr.Palford, having given his client the benefit of his own exact professional knowledge of the estate of Temple Barholm and its workings and privileges as far as he found them transferable and likely to be understood, returned to London, breathing perhaps something like a sigh of relief when the train steamed out of the little station.Whatsoever happened in days to come, Palford & Grimby had done their most trying and awkward duty by the latest Temple Barholm.Bradford, who was the steward of the estate, would now take him over, and could be trusted to furnish practical information of any ordinary order.
It did not appear to Mr.Palford that the new inheritor was particularly interested in his possessions or exhilarated by the extraordinary turn in his fortunes.The enormity of Temple Barholm itself, regarded as a house to live in in an everyday manner, seemed somewhat to depress him.When he was taken over its hundred and fifty rooms, he wore a detached air as he looked about him, and such remarks as he made were of an extraordinary nature and expressed in terms peculiar to America.Neither Mr.Palford nor Burrill understood them, but a young footman who was said to have once paid a visit to New York, and who chanced to be in the picture-gallery when his new master was looking at the portraits of his ancestors, over-hearing one observation, was guilty of a convulsive snort, and immediately made his way into the corridor, coughing violently.From this Mr.Palford gathered that one of the transatlantic jokes had been made.That was the New York idea--to be jocular.Yet he had not looked jocular when he had made the remark which had upset the equilibrium of the young footman.He had, in fact, looked reflective before speaking as he stood and studied a portrait of one of his ancestors.But, then, he had a trick of saying things incomprehensibly ridiculous with an unmoved expression of gravity, which led Palford to feel that he was ridiculous through utter ignorance and was not aware that he was exposing the fact.Persons who thought that an air of seriousness added to a humorous remark were especially annoying to the solicitor, because they frequently betrayed one into the position of seeming to be dull in the matter of seeing a point.That, he had observed, was often part of the New York manner--to make a totally absurdly exaggerated or seemingly ignorance-revealing observation, and then leave one's hearer to decide for himself whether the speaker was an absolute ignoramus and fool or a humorist.
More than once he had somewhat suspected his client of meaning to "get a rise out of him," after the odious manner of the tourists described in "The Innocents Abroad," though at the same time he felt rather supportingly sure of the fact that generally, when he displayed ignorance, he displayed it because he was a positive encyclopedia of lack of knowledge.
He knew no more of social customs, literature, and art than any other street lad.He had not belonged to the aspiring self-taught, who meritoriously haunt the night schools and free libraries with a view to improving their minds.If this had been his method, he might in one sense have been more difficult to handle, as Palford had seen the thing result in a bumptiousness most objectionable.He was markedly not bumptious, at all events.
A certain degree of interest in or curiosity concerning his ancestors as represented in the picture-gallery Mr.Palford had observed.He had stared at them and had said queer things --sometimes things which perhaps indicated a kind of uneducated thought.The fact that some of them looked so thoroughly alive, and yet had lived centuries ago, seemed to set him reflecting oddly.His curiosity, however, seemed to connect itself with them more as human creatures than as historical figures.
"What did that one do?" he inquired more than once."What did he start, or didn't he start anything?"When he disturbed the young footman he had stopped before a dark man in armor.
"Who's this fellow in the tin overcoat?" he asked seriously, and Palford felt it was quite possible that he had no actual intent of being humorous.
"That is Miles Gaspard Nevil John, who fought in the Crusades with Richard Coeur de Lion," he explained."He is wearing a suit of armor."By this time the footman was coughing in the corridor.
"That's English history, I guess," Tembarom replied."I'll have to get a history-book and read up about the Crusades."He went on farther, and paused with a slightly puzzled expression before a boy in a costume of the period of Charles II.
"Who's this Fauntleroy in the lace collar?" he inquired."Queer!" he added, as though to himself."I can't ever have seen him in New York."And he took a step backward to look again.
"That is Miles Hugo Charles James, who was a page at the court of Charles II.He died at nineteen, and was succeeded by his brother Denzel Maurice John.""I feel as if I'd had a dream about him sometime or other," said Tembarom, and he stood still a few seconds before he passed on.
"Perhaps I saw something like him getting out of a carriage to go into the Van Twillers' fancy-dress ball.Seems as if I'd got the whole show shut up in here.And you say they're all my own relations?" Then he laughed."If they were alive now!" he said."By jinks!"His laughter suggested that he was entertained by mental visions.But he did not explain to his companion.His legal adviser was not in the least able to form any opinion of what he would do, how he would be likely to comport himself, when he was left entirely to his own devices.He would not know also, one might be sure, that the county would wait with repressed anxiety to find out.If he had been a minor, he might have been taken in hand, and trained and educated to some extent.But he was not a minor.
