Birds of Prey | Page 8

the
livelier of the two, and affected a slanginess of dress and talk and
manner, a certain "horsey" style, very different from his elder brother's
studied respectability of costume and bearing. His clothes were of a
loose sporting cut, and always odorous with stale tobacco. He wore a
good deal of finery in the shape of studs and pins and dangling lockets
and fusee-boxes; his whiskers were more obtrusive than his brother's,
and he wore a moustache in addition--a thick ragged black moustache,
which would have become a guerilla chieftain rather than a dweller
amidst the quiet courts and squares of Gray's Inn. His position as a
lawyer was not much better than that of Philip as a dentist; but he had
his own plans for making a fortune, and hoped to win for himself a
larger fortune than is, often made in the law. He was a hunter of
genealogies, a grubber-up of forgotten facts, a joiner of broken links, a
kind of legal resurrectionist, a digger in the dust and ashes of the past;
and he expected in due time to dig up a treasure rich enough to reward
the labour and patience of half a lifetime.
"I can afford to wait till I'm forty for my good luck," he said to his
brother sometimes in moments of expansion; "and then I shall have ten
years in which to enjoy myself, and twenty more in which I shall have
life enough left to eat good dinners and drink good wine, and grumble
about the degeneracy of things in general, after the manner of elderly

human nature."
The men stood one on each side of the hearth; George looking at his
brother, Philip looking down at the fire, with his eyes shaded by their
thick black lashes. The fire had become dull and hollow. George bent
down presently and stirred the coals impatiently.
"If there's one thing I hate more than, another--and I hate a good many
things--it's a bad fire," he said. "How's Barlingford--lively as ever, I
suppose?"
"Not much livelier than it was when we left it. Things have gone amiss
with me in London, and I've been more than once sorely tempted to
make an end of my difficulties with a razor or a few drops of prussic
acid; but when I saw the dull gray streets and the square gray houses,
and the empty market-place, and the Baptist chapel, and the Unitarian
chapel, and the big stony church, and heard the dreary bells
ding-donging for evening service, I wondered how I could ever have
existed a week in such a place. I had rather sweep a crossing in London
than occupy the best house in Barlingford, and I told Tom Halliday so."
"And Tom is coming to London I understand by your letter."
"Yes, he has sold Hyley, and wants to find a place in the west of
England. The north doesn't suit his chest. He and Georgy are coming up
to town for a few weeks, so I've asked them to stay here. I may as well
make some use of the house, for it's very little good in a professional
sense."
"Humph!" muttered George; "I don't see your motive."
"I have no particular motive. Tom's a good fellow, and his company
will be better than an empty house. The visit won't cost me anything--
Halliday is to go shares in the housekeeping."
"Well, you may find it answer that way," replied Mr. Sheldon the
younger, who considered that every action of a man's life ought to be
made to "answer" in some way. "But I should think you would be

rather bored by the arrangement: Tom's a very good fellow in his way,
and a great friend of mine, but he's rather an empty-headed animal."
The subject dropped here, and the brothers went on talking of
Barlingford and Barlingford people--the few remaining kindred whose
existence made a kind of link between the two men and their native
town, and the boon companions of their early manhood. The dentist
produced the remnant of a bottle of whisky from the sideboard, and
rang for hot water and sugar, Wherewith to brew grog, for his own and
his brother's refreshment; but the conversation flagged nevertheless.
Philip Sheldon was dull and absent, answering his companion at
random every now and then, much to that gentleman's aggravation; and
he owned at last to being thoroughly tired and worn out.
"The journey from Barlingford in a slow train is no joke, you know,
George, and I couldn't afford the express," he said apologetically, when
his brother upbraided him for his distraction of manner.
"Then I should think you'd better go to bed," answered Mr. Sheldon the
younger, who had smoked a couple of cigars, and consumed the
contents of the whisky-bottle;