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"Then, do the parties, or their proctors," inquired Gammon, "go down beforehand to the spot where the commission is to be held?"

"Oh yes, both parties, of course—Pounce and I shall be both at work down there, rummaging registries, records, churchyards—brushing up every man, woman, and child, that's got a word to say on the subject—warm work, warm work, Mr. Gammon! We sha'n't leave a stone unturned on either side! Lord, I recollect a case, for instance, where a marriage passed muster in all your common-law courts, one after the other; but as soon as it got into our hands—aha!—we found out that it was no marriage at all! and some thirty or forty thousand a-year changed owners! What d'ye think of that?" said Mr. Quod, rubbing his hands, with a pleased and confident air, which strangely contrasted with the reserved and disconcerted manner of his companion; who, in fact, had been thrown into a cold perspiration by what he had heard. "Pounce," continued Quod, "is a keen hand, but I know one that's not afraid of him any day! But I'm sorry they've secured Dr. Flare, I own"–

"Ah, well, that can't be helped now, you know. Good-day, Mr. Quod," said Gammon, with a sickly smile. "I shall be with you about this time to-morrow, to make arrangements." And with this he withdrew.

"Curse Lady Stratton—her will—her policy—everything connected with the old creature," said Gammon to himself, vehemently, as he sat that evening alone, in his chamber, meditating upon this most unexpected turn which the thing had taken; "nothing but vexation, and disappointment, and danger, by Heaven!—attends every move I make in her accursed affairs! Was there ever such a check, for instance, as this? Who could have dreamed of it? What may it not lead to?" Here he got up hastily, and walked for some minutes to and fro. "By Heaven, it won't do!—Would to Heaven I had never ventured on the speculation of Titmouse's administering to the old woman!—What could I have been about? And, too, when I knew nothing about the policy! But how can I now retreat? I must go on!" Another pause. "Stay—stay—that won't do either! Oh, no!—not for a moment! But what will they not conclude from our sudden striking? Of course, that we dare not bring Titmouse's pedigree again into the light; and, besides, by relinquishing the administration to Aubrey, shall I not be putting weapons into his hands—in the possession of the funds—against ourselves? Ay, to be sure! So, by –, here we are in for it, whether we will or not—and no escape!" The latter words he uttered aloud, at the same time snapping his fingers with a desperate air; and continued walking about for a long time in a state of most direful perplexity and alarm. "What shall I do?" said he at length aloud, and then thought within himself—"Move in what direction I may, I am encountered by almost insuperable difficulties! Yet how cautious have I not been!—If I concede the administration to Aubrey, to what motives of conscious weakness will he not refer it? I must act—I dare not hesitate to act—on the solemn finding of a jury, now deliberately acquiesced in for so considerable a time by Aubrey. And I know that the ecclesiastical court won't easily be brought to act against that finding. It will never do to have to fight the question of distribution in the Court of Chancery."—Here he threw himself on his sofa, and remained absorbed in thought for some time. Again he rose, and paced his room with folded arms. At length another view of the matter presented itself to him. "Suppose one were to sound Aubrey or Runnington on the subject, and tell them that I have prevailed on Titmouse to withdraw his claim to administer—in consideration of the moral certainty there is that Lady Stratton intended they should have the whole of her property—at all events of the amount of the policy.—Bah! that won't do! They'd never believe us! But who, in Heaven's name, is finding the funds for such a serious contest as this?—Runnington has no doubt got some of Aubrey's friends to come forward and make a last experiment on his behalf. But why take this particular move?" He drew a long breath, and every particle of color fled from his cheek. "Alas! alas! I now see it all. Miss Aubrey has betrayed me! She has told to her brother—to Runnington—what, in my madness, I mentioned to her! That explains all! Yes," he exclaimed aloud in a vehement tone, "you beautiful fiend, it is your hand that has commenced the work of destruction—as you suppose!"

Neither Lord De la Zouch nor Mr. Runnington saw any necessity for hesitating to apprise Mr. Aubrey of the steps they meditated taking on his behalf, as soon as they had come to the decision above recited, and for which, of course, it became necessary to obtain his sanction. During the course, therefore, of the day after that on which their determination had been taken, at Lord De la Zouch's desire, Mr. Runnington undertook to make the important communication to Mr. Aubrey. For a while he seemed to stagger under the weight of intelligence of such magnitude; and it was some time before he recovered calmness of feeling sufficient to appreciate the nature and consequences of the meditated step—viz. a direct, an immediate, and most formidable effort to replace him in the possession of the estates from which he had been some two years before displaced. But all other considerations were speedily absorbed in one which most profoundly affected him—the princely conduct of his friend Lord De la Zouch. Mr. Aubrey said scarce anything upon this topic for some time; but Mr. Runnington perceived how powerfully his feelings were excited. And will it occasion surprise when I say, that this feeling of gratitude towards the creature—towards the noble instrument—was presently itself merged into another, that of gratitude towards God, whose mysterious and beneficent purpose concerning him, he contemplated with a holy awe? Mr. Runnington was himself greatly moved by the spectacle before him; but desirous of relieving the increasing excitement under which he perceived Mr. Aubrey laboring, he kindly turned the conversation towards the practical details, and apprised him of the consultation which he had had with Sir Charles Wolstenholme, to all of which Mr. Aubrey listened with intense interest, and thoroughly appreciated the value of the admirable suggestion upon which they were acting. But Lord De la Zouch had, with a most delicate consideration, peremptorily enjoined Mr. Runnington not to acquaint Mr. Aubrey with the circumstance, either of his Lordship's having come over from France solely on his affairs, or of his meditated project of summarily releasing Mr. Aubrey from all his embarrassments. As soon as Mr. Runnington had informed Mr. Aubrey that he would find his Lordship then at Dover Street, and in readiness to receive him, that closed their interview; and Mr. Aubrey, in a state of extraordinary exhilaration of spirits, instantly set off to see his munificent benefactor, and pour out before him the homage of an oppressed and grateful heart. After a long interview, the character of which the reader may easily imagine, Lord De la Zouch insisted on setting out for Vivian Street—for he declared he could not let another hour pass without seeing those in whose welfare he felt so tender an interest: so arm in arm they walked thither; and it would have made any one's heart thrill with satisfaction to see the brightened countenance of poor Aubrey, as he walked along, full of joyful excitement, which was visible even in the elasticity and vigor of his step. It seemed as though a millstone had been taken from his neck; for though he was, indeed, of a somewhat sanguine temperament, yet had he not, in what had happened, solid ground to sustain the strongest and brightest hopes? Whether he was right, or whether he was wrong, still he entertained a confidence that it was God's good providence to which he was indebted for what had happened—and that He would bring it to a successful issue. They agreed together, as they neared Vivian Street, to be guided by circumstances, in communicating or withholding information of the glorious interference in their favor which was at that moment in active operation. Mr. Aubrey's knock—so vastly sharper and more energetic than was his wont—brought two fair creatures to the window in a trice—their faces pale with apprehension; but who shall tell the agitation they experienced on seeing Lord De la Zouch and Mr. Aubrey? 'Twas an affecting interview; here was their princely deliverer—the very soul of delicacy and generosity—for as such, indeed, they regarded him, though as yet ignorant of his last noble act of munificence! His Lordship's quick and affectionate eye detected, with much pain, on first seeing them, the ravages of the cankering anxiety which had been so long their lot; how much thinner were both of them, and was more especially Mr. Aubrey, than when he had last seen them! And the mourning which they wore for Lady Stratton made the delicate figures of Mrs. Aubrey and Kate appear slighter than even they really were. Their countenances, also, bore the traces of sorrow and suffering—but the expression was, if possible, lovelier than ever. The fire and spirit of Kate's blue eyes was subdued into an exquisite expression of serenity and pensiveness; but on the present occasion her bosom was agitated by so many conflicting feelings—she felt conscious that her very sense of embarrassment was a delicious one—as gave a surprising vivacity of expression to her features. Lord De la Zouch's heart melted within him, as he looked at them, and reflected on the sufferings through which they had passed, and felt a delighted consciousness of the pleasure which his appearance occasioned that virtuous but long oppressed and harassed family, and in the scene of their graceful and honorable poverty: and devout and earnest were his wish and his hope, that Providence would be pleased to crown with success his interference in their behalf. His Lordship would not be denied on one matter, upon which he declared that he had made up his mind—that they should all of them return with him to dinner in Dover Street;—and, to be sure, the sight of his carriage, which he had ordered to follow him within an hour's time, gave them to understand that he really was in earnest—and they both hastened up to dress, oh, with what bounding hearts, and elastic steps!—Lord De la Zouch felt, as they all sat together in his carriage, as though he were a fond father restored to the presence of long-afflicted children; and his courtesy was touched with an exquisite tenderness. When they entered the spacious and lofty drawing-rooms, which, though then wearing the deserted appearance incident to the season, reminded them of many former hours of splendid enjoyment, they felt a flutter of spirits, which it required no little effort to overcome. The drawing and dining rooms struck them as quite prodigious, from their contrast to the little apartments to which they had been so long accustomed in Vivian Street: and several other little circumstances revived recollections and associations of a painfully interesting nature; but as their spirits grew more exhilarated, they felt a sense of real enjoyment to which all of them had long been strangers. One or two sly allusions made by his Lordship to the probable future occupants of the house, and the more modern air they might choose, perhaps, to give it, suddenly brought as bright a bloom into Kate's cheek, as ever had mantled there! When they had returned home, it was impossible to think of bed—all of them had so much to say, and were in so joyous an excitement; and before they had parted for the night, Aubrey, unable any longer to keep to himself the true source of his enjoyment, electrified them by a frank and full disclosure of the great event of the day!

A day or two afterwards, Lord De la Zouch, having accomplished his benevolent purposes, returned to the Continent, having pledged Mr. Aubrey to communicate with him frequently, and particularly with reference to the progress of the important proceedings which he had caused to be set on foot. The splendid chance which now existed of retrieving his former position, was not allowed by Mr. Aubrey to interfere with his close attention to his professional studies, to which he might yet have to look for the only source of his future subsistence; and he continued his attendance at Mr. Mansfield's chambers with exemplary punctuality and energy. It was not long after Lord De la Zouch's second departure from England, that the melancholy events occurred which have just been narrated—I mean the serious illness of Lord Dreddlington, and the untimely death of Lady Cecilia. The Aubreys had no other intimation of those occurrences than such as they derived from the public papers—from which it appeared that his Lordship's illness had occasioned the fright which had ended in so sad a catastrophe with Lady Cecilia; and that his Lordship's illness had originated in agitation and distress, occasioned by the failure of extensive mercantile speculations into which he had allowed himself to be betrayed by designing persons. In passing down Park Lane, Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey, and Kate, saw a hatchment suspended from the house of Mr. Titmouse; and, some short time afterwards, they saw that bereaved gentleman himself, in the Park, driving a beautiful dark-blue cab, his tiger and he both in mourning—which became them equally. Black greatly alters most people's appearance; but it effected a peculiar change in Mr. Titmouse; the fact being, however, that, desirous of exhibiting even extra marks of respect for the memory of the dear deceased Lady Cecilia, he had put his sandy mustaches and imperial into mourning, by carefully dressing them with Indian ink, which gave a very touching and pensive character indeed to his features.

CHAPTER IX

While Mr. Pounce and Mr. Quod, after their own quaint fashion, are doing decisive battle with each other in a remote corner of the field of action; and while—to change the figure—Mr. Titmouse's pedigree is being subjected to the gloomy, silent, and mysterious inquisition of the ecclesiastical court, let us turn for a moment to contemplate a pitiable figure, a victim of the infernal machinations of Mr. Gammon—I mean the poor old Earl of Dreddlington. He was yet—a month after the death of his unhappy daughter, Lady Cecilia—staggering under the awful shock which he had experienced. Before he had been in any degree restored to consciousness, she had been buried for nearly three weeks; and the earliest notification to him of the melancholy occurrence, was the deep mourning habiliments of Miss Macspleuchan, who scarcely ever quitted his bedside. When, in a feeble and tremulous voice, he inquired as to the cause of his daughter's death, he could get no other account of it—either from Miss Macspleuchan, his physicians, or the Duke of Tantallan—than that it had been occasioned by the shock of suddenly seeing his Lordship brought home seriously ill, she being, moreover, in a very critical state of health. When, at length, he pressed and challenged Miss Macspleuchan upon the matter—viz. the reality of the blighting discovery of Mr. Titmouse's illegitimacy—she resolutely maintained that he was laboring altogether under a delusion—indeed a double delusion; first, as to his imaginary conversation with Mr. Gammon; and secondly, as to his supposed communication of it to Lady Cecilia. Her heart was smitten, however, by the steadfast look of mournful incredulity with which the earl regarded her from time to time; and, when alone, she reproached herself in tears with the fraud she was practising upon the desolate and broken-hearted old man. The duke, however, seconded by the physician, was peremptory on the point, believing that otherwise the earl's recovery was impossible; and as his Grace invaluably joined Miss Macspleuchan in treating the mere mention of the matter as but the figment of a disordered brain, the poor earl was at length silenced if not convinced. He peremptorily prohibited Mr. Titmouse, however, from entering his house—much more from appearing in his presence; and there was little difficulty in making that gentleman seem satisfied that the sole cause of his exclusion was his cruelty and profligacy towards the late Lady Cecilia:—whereas, he knew all the while, and with a sickening inward shudder, the real reason—of which he had been apprised by Mr. Gammon. Very shortly after the earl's illness, the Duke of Tantallan had sent for Mr. Titmouse to interrogate him upon the subject of his Lordship's representations; but Mr. Gammon had been beforehand with the duke, and thoroughly tutored Titmouse—dull and weak though he was—in the part he was to play, and which Mr. Gammon had striven to make as easy to him as possible. The little ape started with well-feigned astonishment, indignation, and disgust, as soon as the duke had mentioned the matter, and said very little—(such were Gammon's peremptory injunctions)—and that little only in expression of amazement—that any one could attach the slightest importance to the mere wanderings of a brain disturbed by illness. 'Twas certainly a ticklish matter, the duke felt, to press too far, or to think of intrusting it to third parties. His Grace very naturally concluded, that what his own superior tact and acuteness had failed in eliciting, could be detected by no one else. He frequently pressed Mr. Gammon, however, upon the subject; but that gentleman maintained the same calm front he had exhibited when first questioned by the duke; giving the same account of all he knew of Titmouse's pedigree—and clinching the matter by sending to his Grace a copy of the brief, and of the short-hand writer's notes of the trial—challenging, at the same time, the most rigorous investigation into every circumstance in the case. It was very natural for the duke, under these circumstances, to yield at length, and feel satisfied that the whole affair rested on no other basis than the distempered brain of his suffering kinsman. Nothing shook his Grace more, however, than the sight of Titmouse: for he looked, verily, one whom it was exceedingly difficult to suppose possessed of one drop of aristocratic blood!—Miss Macspleuchan, a woman of superior acuteness, was infinitely more difficult to satisfy upon the subject than the duke; and though she said little, her manner showed that she was satisfied of the existence of some dreadful mystery or other, connected with Mr. Titmouse, of which Mr. Gammon was master—and the premature discovery of which had produced the deplorable effects upon the earl under which he was at that moment suffering. The earl, when alone with her, and unconscious of her presence, talked to himself constantly in the same strain; and when conversing with her, in his intervals of consciousness, repeated over and over again, without the slightest variation, facts which seemed as it were to have been burned in upon his brain. Miss Macspleuchan had—to conceal nothing from the reader—begun to cherish very warm feelings of attachment to Mr. Gammon; whose striking person, fascinating conversation, and flattering attention to herself—a thing quite unusual on the part of any of the earl's visitors—were well calculated to conduce to such a result. But from the moment of Lord Dreddlington's having made the statement which had been attended by such dreadful consequences, her feelings towards Mr. Gammon had been completely chilled and alienated. Her demeanor, on the few occasions of their meeting, was constrained and distant; her countenance clouded with suspicion, her manners frozen with reserve and hauteur.

Mr. Gammon's first interview with the earl, after his illness and bereavement, had become a matter of absolute necessity—and was at his Lordship's instance; his wishes being conveyed through the Duke of Tantallan, who had intimated to him that it was indeed indispensable, if only to settle some matters of business, of pressing exigency, connected with the failure of the Artificial Rain Company. The duke was with his noble kinsman at the time of Mr. Gammon's calling—having intended to be present at the interview. They awaited his arrival in the earl's library. It is very difficult to describe the feelings with which Mr. Gammon anticipated and prepared for the appointed interview with the man on whom he had inflicted such frightful evil, towards whom he felt that he had acted the part of a fiend. How had he dealt with the absolute and unrestrained confidence which the earl had reposed in him! The main prop and pillar of the earl's existence—family pride—Gammon had snapped asunder beneath him; and as for fortune—Gammon knew that the earl was absolutely ruined. Not, however, that Gammon really felt any commiseration for his victim: his anxiety was only as to how he should extricate himself from liability in respect of it. And had not a man of even his marble heart cause for apprehension, in approaching the earl on that occasion, to be interrogated concerning Titmouse—to look the earl in the face, and deny what had passed between them;—and that, too, when the rigid investigation was pending which might, within a few short weeks, convict and expose him to the scorn—the indignation—of society, as a monster of fraud and falsehood?

The earl sat in his library, dressed in deep black, which hung upon his shrunk attenuated figure, as upon an old skeleton. He looked twenty years older than he had appeared two short months before. His hair, white as snow, his pallid emaciated cheek, his weak and wandering eye, and a slight tremulous motion about his head and shoulders—all showed the mere wreck of a man that he had become, and would have shocked and subdued the feelings of any beholder. What a contrast he presented to the portly and commanding figure of the Duke of Tantallan, who sat beside him, with a brow clouded by anxiety and apprehension! At length—"Mr. Gammon, my Lord," said the servant, in a low tone, after gently opening the door.

"Show him in," said the duke, rather nervously, adding to the earl in a hurried whisper,—"now be calm—my dear Dreddlington—be calm—it will be over in a few minutes' time."—The earl's lips quivered a little, his thin white hands trembled, and his eyes were directed towards the door with a look of most mournful apprehension, as the fiend entered. Mr. Gammon was pale, and evidently nervous and excited; his habitual self-command, however, would have concealed it from any but a practised observer. What a glance was that with which he first saw the earl!—"It gives me deep pain, my Lord," said he, in a low tone, slowly advancing with an air of profound deference and sympathy, "to perceive that you have been so great a sufferer."

"Will you take a chair, sir?" said the duke, pointing to one which the servant had brought for him, and in which Gammon sat down, with a courteous inclination towards the duke; and observing that Lord Dreddlington's face had become suddenly flushed, while his lips moved as if he were speaking, "You see," added his Grace, "that my Lord Dreddlington is but slowly recovering!"—Gammon sighed, and gazed at the earl with an expression of infinite concern.

"Is it true, sir?" inquired the earl, after a moment's interval of silence—evidently with a desperate effort.

Gammon felt both of his companions eying him intently, as he answered calmly—"Alas!—your Lordship of course alludes to that unhappy Company"–

"Is it true, sir?" repeated the earl, altogether disregarding Gammon's attempt at evasion.

"You cannot but be aware, Mr. Gammon, of the subject to which my Lord Dreddlington is alluding"—said the duke, sternly, in a low tone.

"Oh!" exclaimed Gammon, with a slight shrug of his shoulders and a sigh—"I understand that your Lordship is referring to some conversation which you supposed has passed between your Lordship and me concerning Mr. Titmouse!"

"Sir—sir—yes! yes!" gasped the earl, gazing at him intently.

"Well, my Lord, I have heard with inexpressible astonishment that you suppose I told your Lordship that he was illegitimate."

"Ay," said the earl, with tremulous eagerness.

"Oh, my Lord, you are really laboring under as complete a delusion as ever man"—commenced Gammon, with a melancholy smile.

"Sir—Mr. Gammon—do you believe that there is no God?—that He does not know the—the"—interrupted the earl, but ceased, apparently overpowered by his emotions. Gammon looked in appealing silence at the duke.

"What makes you imagine, sir, that I am bereft of reason and memory?" presently inquired the earl, with a strength of voice and manner which alarmed Gammon.

"I cannot account, my Lord, for the extraordinary hallucination which seems"–

"And I suppose, sir, I am equally dreaming about the rent-charge for two thousand a-year, which you have got on the Yatton pro"–

"Oh, pardon—pardon me, my Lord! All pure—absolute delusion and fiction!" interrupted Gammon, with a confident smile, a look, and a tone of voice, which would have staggered the most incredulous.

The earl raised his thin white trembling hand, and pressed it against his forehead for a moment; and then said, turning to the duke—"He would deny that he is now in our presence!"

"My dear Dreddlington—don't, for God's sake, excite yourself," said the duke, anxiously; adding after a pause, "I am as persuaded as I am of my existence, that you're under a complete delusion! Recollect your serious illness—every one is subject to this sort of thing when he's been so ill as you have!"

"Oh, Tantallan! Tantallan!" replied the earl, mournfully shaking his head—"I take God to witness how this man is lying!" The duke glanced hastily at Gammon as these words were uttered, and observed that he had gone suddenly pale, and was in the act of rising from his chair.

"Pray, Mr. Gammon"–commenced the duke, imploringly.

"I can make very great allowance, I assure your Grace, for his Lordship's situation—but there are bounds which I will permit no man living, under any circumstances, to overstep with impunity," said Gammon, calmly but resolutely—overjoyed at obtaining such a pretext for abruptly terminating the embarrassing interview—"and unless his Lordship chooses instantly to retract what he has said, and apologize for it, I will never enter his presence again!"

"Oh—he had better go!" said the earl, feebly, addressing the duke, evidently averting his face from Gammon with disgust and horror.

"Mr. Gammon, pray resume your seat," said the duke, significantly—"You are bound to regard the words as not having been spoken."

"I thank your Grace," replied Gammon, determinedly—"but I require an explicit retractation. I entertain a deep deference towards your Grace, but am also aware of what is due to myself. My Lord," he added, as if at a sudden impulse, addressing the earl, "do permit me to request your Lordship to withdraw and apologize for"–But the earl turned his face aside; and extending his hand towards Gammon, feebly motioned him away; on which, with a low bow to the Duke of Tantallan, Gammon took his hat and moved towards the door.

"Sir—Mr. Gammon—you must not go," said the duke, in an earnest and commanding manner—"you are here on business, of pressing importance—all this must pass away and be forgotten."

"Your Grace I shall be most happy to attend at any time, and anywhere; but this room I quit instantly."

"Then, sir, have the goodness to walk into the next," said the duke, somewhat imperiously, "and I will come to you presently." Mr. Gammon bowed and withdrew.

"Oh God! how atrocious is the conduct of that man!" said the earl, when they were left alone.

"Really, Dreddlington, you must get rid of these—these—absurd notions."

"Let me never see his face again!" replied the earl, feebly. "I have but a short time to live, and that time the sight of him, I feel, makes still shorter!" The duke looked both vexed and embarrassed.

"Come—come—now he's here," continued his Grace, "and on a very important errand—let us have done with the fellow—let us have him back, and I'll tell him you withdraw"–

"Withdraw? He is withdrawn," replied the earl, confusedly.

"What d'ye mean, my dear Dreddlington? I say—let me tell him"–

"I mean, it was at his chambers, in Holborn—I pledge my honor, I recollect as if it were yester"–

"Pho, pho!" cried the duke, rather impatiently—"it must be done! He's come on matters of the very last importance—the thing's been put off to the very latest moment on your account—that cursed Company!" The earl looked up at his companion, and a faint smile flitted over his wasted features.

"Ah—I'm now satisfied," said he, shaking his head—"that they must dig a very great depth, indeed, before they come to the copper." The duke looked puzzled, but said hastily, "That's right!—I'll have him back, and you'll allow me to say it's all a mistake?"

"Certainly—I am satisfied of it."

"That will do, my dear Dreddlington!—That's the way such nonsense should be put an end to," said the duke, and, ringing the bell, ordered the servant to request Mr. Gammon to return. After a brief interval, that gentleman re-entered the library, but with some sternness and reluctance of manner.

"Mr. Gammon," replied the duke, a little quickly, "my Lord Dreddlington owns he was mistaken—he, of course, withdraws the expression—so we had better at once to business"–

"Ay—certainly!—certainly! Have you the papers with you, Mr. Gammon?" inquired the earl, while his trembling fingers held his gold spectacles. Mr. Gammon bowed rather haughtily, and resuming the chair he had quitted, drew it to the table, and opened a little packet.

"It was a ridiculous affair, I am afraid, sir," said the earl, addressing Mr. Gammon, who felt a little surprised at the altered look and tone of the earl.

"I fear it was extremely unfortunate, my Lord, in its issue," he replied gravely, arranging his papers.

"The thing did not look so absurd at first, Tantallan, I assure you!" said the earl, addressing the duke, who was eying Mr. Gammon's movements with much anxiety; for he had come prepared to state the final result of long negotiations between the creditors and the directors and shareholders of the "Artificial Rain Company."