The Beetle: a Mystery
Copyright© 2025 by Richard Marsh
Chapter 32: A New Client
The Conclusion of the Matter is extracted from the Case-Book of the Hon. Augustus Champnell, Confidential Agent
On the afternoon of Friday, June 2, 18—, I was entering in my case-book some memoranda having reference to the very curious matter of the Duchess of Datchet’s Deed-box. It was about two o’clock. Andrews came in and laid a card upon my desk. On it was inscribed ‘Mr Paul Lessingham.’
‘Show Mr Lessingham in.’
Andrews showed him in. I was, of course, familiar with Mr Lessingham’s appearance, but it was the first time I had had with him any personal communication. He held out his hand to me.
‘You are Mr Champnell?’
‘I am.’
‘I believe that I have not had the honour of meeting you before, Mr Champnell, but with your father, the Earl of Glenlivet, I have the pleasure of some acquaintance.’
I bowed. He looked at me, fixedly, as if he were trying to make out what sort of man I was.
‘You are very young, Mr Champnell.’
‘I have been told that an eminent offender in that respect once asserted that youth is not of necessity a crime.’
‘And you have chosen a singular profession, —one in which one hardly looks for juvenility.’
‘You yourself, Mr Lessingham, are not old. In a statesman one expects grey hairs.—I trust that I am sufficiently ancient to be able to do you service.’
He smiled.
‘I think it possible. I have heard of you more than once, Mr Champnell, always to your advantage. My friend, Sir John Seymour, was telling me, only the other day, that you have recently conducted for him some business, of a very delicate nature, with much skill and tact; and he warmly advised me, if ever I found myself in a predicament, to come to you. I find myself in a predicament now.’
Again I bowed.
‘A predicament, I fancy, of an altogether unparalleled sort. I take it that anything I may say to you will be as though it were said to a father confessor.’
‘You may rest assured of that.’
‘Good.—Then, to make the matter clear to you I must begin by telling you a story, —if I may trespass on your patience to that extent. I will endeavour not to be more verbose than the occasion requires.’
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