CHAPTER XXV
ON THEIR HONEYMOON
Mr. and Mrs. Nash had been spending the afternoon in Arundel Park. When they returned to their rooms at Littlehampton they were met by the diminutive maid with a message.
"If you please, Mr. Stephen Morgan of Cloverlea called."
"Mr. – who?" asked Mr. Nash. Mrs. Nash changed colour. The maid repeated the visitor's name. "She must mean Morgan the butler; what does he mean by coming here?"
"I-I can't think."
She was conscious of that sudden sickness which she had experienced once before; all at once the room seemed to be whirling round and round. The maid went on.
"He said he'd call again; he couldn't say quite when, but he'd certainly call again before you left Littlehampton."
"Like his impudence! What on earth can the fellow mean? By the way, Louisa, have you seen a letter-case of mine lying about?"
"No, sir, that I haven't."
Mr. Nash went into the next room, hurriedly. So soon as he was through the door he saw the letter-case upon the mantelpiece, where Mr. Morgan had left it. The sight of it seemed to surprise him.
"Who put it there? I'll swear I didn't. Louisa, have you been in here since I went out?"
"No, sir; not once."
"Has Mrs. Lorrimer?"
"I don't think so, sir; she's been out; she only come in just before you did."
He was searching the letter-case, turning it literally inside out. Suddenly he went to the door.
"Louisa, come here!" Louisa came. He spoke to her in lowered tones, as if he did not wish what he said to be heard in the next room, where his wife still was. "Who was in when Mr. Morgan came?"
"If you please, sir, I was; Mrs. Lorrimer, she was out."
"Where you in all the time that he was here?"
"No, sir; I had to go out and do some errands."
"And was he alone in the house while you were gone?"
"Yes, sir; he was outside the front door when I came back; it was then he gave me the message about his calling again."
So surprising a look came on Mr. Nash's face that the girl shrunk back, almost as if she had been afraid that he would strike her. He went back into the bedroom, shutting the door with a bang. He stood glaring about him, as if beside himself with rage. Then, with an effort, he steadied himself. Again he turned the letter-case inside out, going carefully through the papers it contained. Then he searched the room so methodically that even a pin could hardly have escaped his notice, moving every article it contained, his wife's trunks, his own boxes, even turning down the bedclothes and looking under the pillows, going down on his knees to peer under the bed. When all his hunting came to nothing he leaned his elbows on the mantelpiece and shut his eyes, as if suffering physical pain.
In the next room his wife was fighting a fight of her own. So soon as he left her she dropped on to a chair, as if her legs refused her support. A curious change had come over her face, and her lips were twitching; she looked furtively about her, as if she was afraid of she knew not what. When she heard the bedroom door banged, and she knew that her husband had dismissed the maid, she called, "Louisa," softly; so softly that one wondered if she wished to be heard.
But Louisa did hear, appearing with a startled visage in the doorway.
"Who-who did Mr. Morgan ask for?"
The question was put so softly that it was nearly whispered; the speaker's tongue and lips seemed parched.
"Please, ma'am, he asked for you."
"For me? What-what did he say?"
"Please, ma'am, he said 'Is Mrs. Nash in?'"
"Mrs. Nash? You're sure he said Mrs. Nash?"
"Yes, ma'am, quite sure."
"And when you told him I wasn't in, did he ask for Mr. Nash?"
"No, ma'am; he said he'd wait."
"How-how long did he wait?"
"Maybe twenty minutes, maybe half-an-hour; please, ma'am, I couldn't say exactly."
"And did he seem angry?"
"No, ma'am; quite pleasant. He gave me a shilling as he was going."
"A shilling! Oh! Now tell me, exactly, what was the message he left."
"If you please, ma'am, he told me to tell you exactly what he said, so I took particular notice." She repeated word for word what Mr. Morgan had said; Mrs. Nash listening with singular intentness, as if her attention was fixed not so much on the actual words as on what was behind them. When the girl had finished she sat still, as if pondering. Louisa roused her. "If you please, ma'am, can I lay for supper?"
Mrs. Nash rose with a little jump.
"Supper! of course; how silly I am! I was quite forgetting about supper. Certainly, Louisa, you can lay for supper; I-I think I'm quite ready for it." When she went into the bedroom her husband was still standing with his elbows on the mantelpiece and his face to the wall. As she entered he looked round with a start; the pair stood looking at each other as if each was taken aback by something which was on the other's face. She spoke first, in a voice which seemed to tremble. "Herbert, what-what's the matter?"
"The matter?" He laughed, a forced laugh. "Nothing's the matter; why do you ask what's the matter?"
"You're-you're looking so strange."
"That's your imagination, my dear. What is the matter is that I've got a touch of headache-one of my mother's headaches; you remember what I've told you about the headaches she used to have. I fancy the sun was stronger than I thought."
"I didn't notice it; you said nothing about it."
"No; I didn't notice it at the time. I expect that what I want is my supper; it'll be better after I've had something to eat."
"Have you found your letter-case?"
"Oh yes, yes; I've found my letter-case; I must have dropped it out of my pocket as I was putting on my coat-very stupid of me; but I've found it all right. Anyhow there wasn't anything in it of very great consequence, so it wouldn't have mattered much if I hadn't."
It was a curious meal, that supper of theirs. It was as if ghosts sat with them at the table; phantoms of horror; one by his side, and one at hers, whose presence each hoped was hidden from the other. Conversation languished, and they were in general so talkative; the efforts they made to disguise their incapacity for speech were pathetic. Their appetites were as poor as their talking powers, and that although each had professed to be ready to make an excellent meal. He ate little, and what he did eat was with an obvious effort; she ate still less, each mouthful seemed to choke her. When the make-believe repast was at an end Mr. Nash got up.
"I'm afraid my headache isn't much better; I think I'll go for a turn on the front; the night air may do it good."
She also rose.
"It won't take me a minute to put on my hat; I'll come with you."
He was not so pleased at her suggestion as he might have been.
"I think, if you don't mind, I'll go alone; I don't feel as if I were in a mood for company."
She seemed hurt.
"Oh, Herbert, don't leave me behind! I won't keep you waiting; I'll come without my hat."
But he still professed unwillingness for her society, speaking almost roughly.
"Don't I tell you I'd sooner go alone? Can't you take a hint?"
It was the first time he had spoken to her like that since they had been married, which was not so very long ago. Had he struck her he could not have hurt her more. When he had gone, without another word, or a kiss, or a sign of tenderness, she sat staring at the nearly untouched meal, and shivered, although the night was warm. What had happened to Herbert, to have produced such a change in his manner? Could Morgan have left a note for him, or a message for his own private ear; or dropped a hint; or communicated with him without her knowledge? As Louisa cleared away the supper things she cross-examined her. The girl told all that she had to tell again; Elaine could find nothing in her story which would account for the singularity of her husband's demeanour; but on one point she fastened, when the maid told her that she had left the visitor in the house alone.
With Mr. Morgan in sole possession of the premises, Elaine saw instant possibilities. What might he not have been doing while Louisa was out? He might-he certainly might have intruded himself in her bedroom; if he had gone so far he might have gone much farther. At the thought of what he might have done she felt inclined to shake Louisa for giving him the chance of doing it; instead, however, of assaulting the maid she hurried off to learn, if she could, what he had done.
Apparently nothing. So far as she could perceive everything in the bedroom remained untouched, just as she had left it. She opened her trunk, and took out her dressing-case, to make sure; she kept her dressing-case in her locked trunk for greater security. Herbert laughed at her for her caution, but she did not mind; she knew its secret, he did not. After all it was perhaps as well he had left her behind; she never had a chance of peeping at her hidden hoard while he was there. Morgan had not touched that; that was safe enough. She examined it with feverish fingers, fearful every moment of her husband's return. The tale of the money was correct; nothing was missing there.
When she had done counting she hesitated, and thought, a big bundle of notes in her hand. She slipped some of them into the bosom of her dress-notes for a hundred pounds. Now that Morgan had thrust himself again upon the scene they might be wanted; anything might happen; she might not be able to get at her store at a moment's notice, with Herbert always hovering round. She was just as anxious to keep the secret of her hiding-place from her husband as from Morgan, or from any one.
She had not long returned the dressing-case to the trunk, and locked the trunk, and placed the notes representing a hundred pounds in a more convenient spot than her bodice, when her husband returned. As he came bustling into the bedroom she perceived at once that his mood had changed. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her, rather boisterously; his breath told her he had been drinking.
"Hello, old girl! that headache's better; the stroll has done it good."
She wondered if it was the stroll or the refreshment he had taken; she had already discovered that stimulants made of him another man; even after one bottle of ale he was not the same man he had been before. Her cue was to ignore the part which alcohol might have played in affecting a cure.
"I am so glad you're better, dear; I know what it is to have a headache; I believe I've got one. Please mayn't I go out on to the common now?"
He laughed at her, lifting her off her feet.
"I'll carry you," he said.
And he did; out of the house, across the road, not putting her down till he had borne her on to the grass; then, running the risk of what eyes there might be about to see, she gave him a kiss to pay for porterage. Presently they were, outwardly, on proper honeymooning terms again, each making a gallant, and not wholly unsuccessful, effort to shut out from actual vision the ghosts which kept step at their sides. When they had retired to rest Herbert Nash said to his wife-
"Do you know, I think I have had about enough of Littlehampton; what do you say?"
"I say what you say; only the question is, wherever shall we go to? and when?"
"There are heaps of places we can go to; and as for when, we can leave this to-morrow. I'll think it over."
He thought it over; all through the night he lay thinking, with wide-open eyes, and so did she. But they did not leave on the morrow, nor the next day. And on the morning of the third day there came a letter addressed to "Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Nash," which Mr. Nash, being first at the breakfast table, opened. It ran-
"Dear Friends,
"Mrs. Lorrimer's servant will have told you that I called to see you, and also that I propose to call again. Apart from the pleasure which I anticipate from meeting you once more, I have something of the utmost importance which I wish to say to both of you. As I believe you have no pressing engagements, I confidently hope that you will not leave Littlehampton till I have had an opportunity of saying it. I will let you have a wire, advising you of my coming, and shall be glad if you will leave word at the house where, at any moment, you are to be found, as I should not like to miss you a second time.
"Adding my congratulations to the numerous expressions of goodwill which, I do not doubt, you have already received on the auspicious occasion of your marriage, believe me to be,
"Yours most sincerely,"Stephen Morgan."
Mr. Nash was reading this epistle a second time when his wife came in.
"What have you got there?" she asked.
He looked up with a frown, seeming to hesitate about what to say, then answered-
"It's from that fellow Morgan; the most insolent, presumptuous scrawl. What he's driving at I can't imagine; the fellow must be stark, staring mad."
If Mr. Nash had been in an observant mood he might have noticed that the smile which had been on his wife's face gave way to quite a different expression, and that she shivered, as she always did do when Mr. Morgan's name was mentioned.
"What does he say? Let me look at his letter."
He was folding it up, as with the intention of consigning it to his pocket unseen by his wife; at her point-blank request he seemed to hesitate, then tossed it to her across the table.
"If you can explain what the fellow means by sending a letter like that I can't; it's beyond me altogether." As she read he commented. "Fancy calling us 'Dear friends.'"
"What an extraordinary thing for him to do."
"A butler!"
"It's quite inexplicable."
"What on earth has he to say to us which is of the least importance?"
"That's it; what can he have?"
"He practically orders us not to leave the place till it pleases him to come."
"It does-it does amount to that, doesn't it?"
"Fancy his telling us to let them know in the house where, at any moment, we're to be found, as if the one thing to be considered was his sovereign pleasure!"
"That is really remarkable."
"Remarkable! I should say so; remarkable is a mild way of putting it. I've half-a-mind to pack directly after breakfast and leave the place this morning; the idea of his attempting to dictate to us! As I say, the only explanation I can think of is that the fellow's stark, staring mad."
"That-that must be it."
Mr. Nash continued to comment on Mr. Morgan's insolent epistle while he trifled with his breakfast; but it was noticeable that he only trifled. If he had had an appetite it had vanished; it seemed as if the man's impertinence must have affected him more than he would have cared to own. It was the same with his wife, she had no appetite either. Indeed, when one came to think of it, neither of them had eaten much since they had first heard of Mr. Morgan's call. The fact had even been noticed by the landlady.
"I can't think what's the matter with them all at once," she declared to her diminutive maid, Louisa. "They used to eat heartily enough; as you know, I remarked on it to you."
"Yes, Mrs. Lorrimer, that you did."
"But these last couple of days they've scarcely touched a thing. There's been nothing the matter with the food, and I'm sure there's been nothing the matter with the cooking; it must be them that's wrong."
When breakfast was finished-such a breakfast as it was; even the soles went out practically as they came in-Mrs. Nash went to put on her hat preparatory to going out with her husband on to the front, as she usually did on fine mornings; he with a newspaper, and she with a book. That morning the process was a lengthy one; she seemed preoccupied, as if her mind was so full that there was no room in it for her hat. She moved restlessly about the room, as if her thoughts kept her in motion. All at once it seemed that she arrived at a sudden resolution.
"I know what I'll do; I'll get Herbert to go; we will go, before he comes; we'll go to-day. I'll talk to Herbert directly we get outside. I believe he wants to go as much as I do; though I-I don't know why. And this time we won't stay in England; we'll go abroad, as far away as ever we can; somewhere where that wretch can't get at us; and-and we'll leave no address behind."
While the lady so resolved the gentleman-unconscious of her resolution-waited for her on the doorstep. As he waited he saw, advancing towards the house on a bicycle, a telegraph boy. Some instinct induced him to leave that doorstep and move to meet him.
"Got a telegram for me-Nash?"
"Nash? Yes, sir." The boy jumped off; he produced the familiar yellow envelope. "Herbert Nash."
"That's for me; that's all right. Wait while I see if there's an answer." He tore the envelope open; this was the message it contained: "Coming by the train due 12.28. You had better meet me at the station alone. – STEPHEN MORGAN." "There is no answer," Mr. Nash informed the boy.
The boy got on his machine and rode away. Mr. Nash read that telegram again, then stuffed it into his jacket pocket, swearing beneath his breath. He looked quite ugly when he swore. He glanced at his watch, as if to make sure about the time, then returned to his place upon the doorstep. He said nothing about the telegram to his wife.
CHAPTER XXVI
AN OFFER OF FRIENDSHIP
Mr. Nash was at the station when the 12.28 came in, and alone; it might have been by some sort of coincidence that he happened to be there just then, but Mr. Morgan seemed to take it for granted that he had come to meet him, an inference which Mr. Nash apparently resented. Mr. Morgan came up to him smiling in the most friendly fashion, and with hand held out.
"My dear Nash, how are you?"
There was no smile on Mr. Nash's face, and he ignored the proffered hand.
"Thank you, Mr. Morgan, I am well."
"And my good friend, your dear wife? blooming, eh?"
"I'm not aware that Mrs. Nash ever was a friend of yours."
"No! my dear fellow! when we were so often under the same roof together."
"Do the servants of a house always regard their master's friends as their own?"
"My dear Nash, if you hadn't said that I should have said it was meant to be nasty. I was in the service of the head of the house, and your wife was a sort of attendant of the daughter's.
"Do you dare to say that my wife was ever Miss Lindsay's attendant?"
"Unpaid attendant, my boy, unpaid; sort of hanger-on-poor companion. I received a regular income; she got an occasional frock; some article of clothing; now and then a few pounds; as it were, the crumbs which fell from Miss Lindsay's table. Of course, pecuniarily mine was much the better position of the two; but I always have been one to overlook a mere financial difference, and I hope I always shall be."
"Look here, Morgan, if you're come down with the express intention of being insolent, I'll wring your neck, here, in the station."
Mr. Nash looked as if he were capable of at least trying to perform that operation on Mr. Morgan there and then, but Mr. Morgan only smiled.
"My dear Nash! the idea! Nothing can be further from my wish than to be insolent to you; as I'll show you before I've done. Where can we go where we can be quiet, and have a little chat together? And afterwards if you'll take me to 37, Ocean Villas, and offer me a little lunch, and give me an opportunity of renewing my acquaintance with your charming wife, I think you'll find that we are on better terms than you seem to suppose. Where are you going?"
Mr. Nash was striding out of the station.
"To the golf-links; you say you want to go somewhere where we can be quiet; you'll have the quietude you want there."
"Thank you; I don't think we need go quite so far as the golf-links, really; nor is that exactly the sort of solitude I was thinking of. You come with me; I'll be conductor." He opened the door of a fly which was by the kerb, and stood with the handle in his hand. "Step in."
The two men looked at each other, as if each was measuring the other's strength. Then Mr. Nash said-
"Where do you think you're going?"
Mr. Morgan spoke to the driver.
"Take us to the east end of the promenade, right to the extreme end." Then he turned to Nash. "We shall have all the quietude we want there. After you."
Nash hesitated, then entered the fly; Morgan followed; the fly drove off. As it rumbled along Mr. Morgan beguiled the way by spirited attempts at conversation; but he had all the talking to himself; not once did his companion open his lips. Mr. Nash sat with unbending back, stiff neck, grim face, looking straight in front of him; Mr. Morgan might not have been in the same vehicle for all the notice he took of him. Under the circumstances his unruffled affability did the latter gentleman credit. The vehicle set them down not only at the extreme end of the promenade, but beyond it. When the fly had gone Mr. Morgan called his companion's attention to their surroundings.
"You see! where could we have more privacy, even on the golf-links? Not a creature within many yards of us. We can sit on the beam of this groyne-could it be at a more convenient height? – and talk at our leisure."
Again Mr. Nash seemed to be measuring the other with his eye; his bearing did not point to his being at all in the conversational frame of mind which Mr. Morgan's words suggested; indeed he said as much.
"Now, my man, if you have anything to say, out with it; I've not the dimmest notion what it is you think you've got to say; to be quite frank, your whole conduct looks to me like infernal insolence; but, whatever it is, make it short; and take my advice, and be careful how you say it."
"My dear Nash, I assure you that no one could be more careful than I shall be."
"And don't you call me your dear Nash! you swollen-headed butler! I don't propose to allow a servant to treat me as an equal, nor do I propose to consort with him."
"Don't you? Now that shows how different we are. I don't mind with whom I consort; I'm even willing to consort with a thief."
"What-what the devil do you mean?"
Mr. Nash's eyes blazed; but they blazed out of a face which, consciously to himself or not, had suddenly grown pale. Mr. Morgan smiled as affably as ever; he offered Mr. Nash his cigar-case.
"Try one of my cigars; I think you'll find them something rather exceptional."
"Confound your cigars! I don't want your cigars! What do you mean by what you said just now?"
"You know what I mean as well as I do. There are moments when it's so unpleasant to have to dot one's i's; surely this is one. Then isn't it rather childish to pretend that you don't know what I mean when you do?"
"Are you going to tell me what you mean?"
"Certainly, if you insist; but is it wise?"
"Morgan, am I to knock you down?"
"You can try if you like; I dare say I can put up as good a fight as you can."
Again they seemed to gauge each other, eye to eye; Nash as if half beside himself with rage, Morgan all smiles.
"Will you tell me what you mean?"
Morgan looked away from the other's face, up into the air. He blew a ring of smoke from the cigar which he had lighted, following it with his eyes. Nothing could have been pleasanter than his manner, or more affable than his smile; he spoke as one who meditated.
"I happen to know that you borrowed certain sums of money from the late Mr. Donald Lindsay, for which you gave him notes of hand, amounting altogether to a little over a hundred pounds; a flea-bite to him, but a deal to you. When you were going through Mr. Lindsay's papers, on behalf of his daughter, you came upon those notes of hand; you put them into your pocket; you concealed their existence; in plainer words, you stole them."
"It's-it's an infernal lie!"
"My dear Nash, I saw you do it."
"You saw me!"
"I did. If you like I can describe to you, in detail, how you found them, and where, and how you looked to an unprejudiced observer, and precisely what you did when you had found them; but is it necessary?"
"Why-why don't I knock you down?"
"Because you have more sense. Pray don't indulge in heroics for my benefit, I beg of you; I know! I know! I also saw you steal another paper."
"What other paper?"
"That's what I said to myself; what can that other paper be? I confess that I was gravelled; and I continued gravelled until I called on you the other day at Ocean Villas, and found it in your letter-case."
"You-you scoundrel!"
"That's a hard word, from one who is both a scoundrel and a thief. Don't let us bandy epithets. Here is the paper-gently! I should have said, here is a copy of the paper. You and I know how desirable it is that so important a document should be in safe keeping. I have arranged that if I don't turn up at a certain place, at a certain time, the actual letter-you know it is a letter-will be posted to Dr. Banyard, together with a history of how it came into my possession, and particulars of those notes of hand you stole; so let us hope, for your sake, that no accident will happen to me. I will read you the copy I made of the letter; you will possibly have forgotten the precise wording, and the precise wording is of such importance-
'Dear Sir,
'Referring to the acceptances of yours which we hold, and which fall due on the 7th inst., they reached us, in the ordinary course, through a client with whom we have done business before; who informed us that they came to him from Mr. Frank Clifford, of Marlborough Buildings, Farringdon Road, E.C., who, we presume, discounted them for you. We do not know that we are called upon to furnish you with this information, and, as your inquiry is an unusual one, we shall be glad to know why you make it.
'Your obedient servants,'Guldenheim and Co.'
Now that, my dear Nash, is the letter which you found; I don't know if your memory will enable you to recognize the accuracy of the copy." Mr. Nash was silent, presenting a curious picture of indecision; of the man who lets "I dare not" wait upon "I would." Mr. Morgan went affably on, diplomatically ignoring the singularity of the other's attitude. "To the superficial eye there is nothing in that letter; it is a mere routine business communication; in fact, however, as matters were, you could scarcely have found anything more important. I take it that you recognized this, or you would hardly have appropriated it; but I fancy that you only recognized it dimly. Your whole after-behaviour seems to point to it." Mr. Morgan glanced round at the moment, in time to catch the ghost of a smile, which seemed to flicker across Mr. Nash's face; Mr. Morgan's comment on that flickering smile was characteristic. "Perhaps not so dimly as I supposed; the springs of human action do lie so deep. Perhaps, after all, it has occurred to you, as it has to me, that that letter killed Donald Lindsay. You remember where you found it? Lindsay's was a pedestal writing-table; it was on the floor, under one of the pedestals, with one corner of the paper just showing. I think that was the last letter Donald Lindsay ever read. He had read it again and again before, and was re-reading it; but that re-reading was just the one too many. The strain of that cumulative shock was greater than he could bear; something snapped; he fell forward; the letter slipped from his fingers, under one of the pedestals, where it might have remained but for your sharp eyes." Mr. Morgan held the paper out in front of him with the air of one who is explaining something which he desires to make quite plain. "Now what is there in this letter which could have produced so extraordinary an effect upon a person possessed of so much self-restraint as Donald Lindsay undoubtedly was? What does the letter itself tell us? It tells us that Messrs. Guldenheim, as is the custom, I have reason to know, of a certain type of usurer, had written to advise him that certain acceptances of his, which matured at a certain date, had come into their hands. I'll bet sixpence that Lindsay was a man who never in his life put his name on a piece of paper which was likely, in the ordinary course, as they put it, to fall into the hands of carrion like the Guldenheims; that first communication of theirs must in itself have been a shock to him. But he was a cautious man; he liked to move gently; whether he already had suspicions I cannot say; evidently he wrote a non-committal letter, asking them from whom they had obtained acceptances of his. This was their reply; they informed him that originally the acceptances came from Mr. Frank Clifford, of Marlborough Buildings, Farringdon Road, and that information killed him. Is that how it occurred to you?"
"Never mind what occurred to me."
"Quite so, I won't; I'll content myself with telling you what occurred to me. I've only known what was in this letter a couple of days, and, with its aid, I have already learned that, when he died, Donald Lindsay was, probably, one of the richest men in England. Have you learned that?"
"I-I had my doubts."
"But you hadn't verified them? I see. Other matters interfered; for instance, your marriage. Now, my dear Nash, pray understand that I congratulate you, from the bottom of my heart, on what is, in all respects, an auspicious event; but you must forgive my saying that you were one of the last persons I should have associated with a love match. Now I happen to know that neither Miss Harding nor you had money, or prospects. Indeed, I've been wondering how you managed between you to pay the marriage fees, to say nothing of the expenses of your honeymoon. Did a good fairy drop down from the skies?"
"It strikes me, Morgan, that you are constitutionally incapable of seeing how infernally insolent you are."
"Am I? Perhaps; you should be a better judge of insolence than I. And believe me that I quite understand that a man is entitled to keep his own counsel; I don't wish to pry into your secrets; only I was wondering if you had a secret. However, to return to business. Do you know that this letter means a fortune for you, and incidentally, perhaps, also one for me; but certainly a fortune for you. All we have to do is to pull together; treat each other as friends, not enemies; although I say it, you'll find my friendship well worth having, from every point of view. Don't let the accident of my having once been a butler stand in the way; that's nonsense. Let me tell you that the butler at Cloverlea had a better position, in every respect, than the average clerk in a government office; as for your banks, and such dustbins-pah! he was better off than many a solicitor; though I know that's a delicate subject. But don't let's cut each other's throats for the sake of a merely imaginary social distinction; let's be friends, and I'll undertake to make your fortune. That's the proposition I've come down to Littlehampton to make."