Three days afterwards a hansom cab drove to the offices of the very
respectable firm of solicitors who managed the affairs of the Norland
family. They had one or two other families as well, and in spite of
agricultural depression, they made a very good thing indeed out of a
very comfortable business. The cab contained a lady in deep widow's
weeds.
Lady Harry Norland expected to be received with coldness and suspicion.
Her husband, she knew, had not led the life expected in these days of a
younger son. Nor had his record been such as to endear him to his elder
brother. Then, as may be imagined, there were other tremors, caused by
a guilty knowledge of certain facts which might by some accident "come
out." Everybody has tremors for whom something may come out. Also, Iris
had had no experience of solicitors, and was afraid of them.
Instead of being received, however, by a gentleman as solemn as the
Court of Chancery and as terrible as the Court of Assize, she found an
elderly gentleman, of quiet, paternal manners, who held both her hands,
and looked as if he was weeping over her bereavement. By long practice
this worthy person could always, at a moment's notice, assume the
appearance of one who was weeping with his client.
"My dear lady!" he murmured. "My dear lady! This is a terrible time for
you."