17. _A Perfidious Ally_
"But homeward--home--what home? had he a home? His home--he walk'd; Then down the long street having slowly stolen, His heart foreshadowing all calamity, His eyes upon the stones, he reached his home."
Paul had been careful, whilst in the hearing of his friends, to give thecabman a fictitious address, but as soon as he reached the Euston Road,he stopped the man and ordered him to put him down at the church nearthe south end of Westbourne Terrace, for he dared not drive up openly tohis own door.
At last he found himself standing safely on the pavement, looking downthe long line of yellow lamps of his own terrace, only a few hundredyards from home.
But though his purpose was now within easy reach, his spirits were farfrom high; his anxiety had returned with tenfold power; he felt noeagerness or exultation; on the contrary, the task he had set himselfhad never before seemed so hopeless, so insurmountable.
He stood for some time by the railing of the church, which was lightedup for evening service, listening blankly to the solemn drone of theorgan within, unable to summon up resolution to move from the spot andpresent himself to his unsuspecting family.
It was a cold night, with a howling wind, and high in the blue black skyfleecy clouds were coursing swiftly along; he obliged himself to set outat last, and walked down the flags towards his house, shivering as muchfrom nervousness as cold.
There was a dance somewhere in the terrace that evening, a large one; asfar as he could see there were close ranks of carriages with blazinglamps, and he even fancied he could hear the shouts of the link-boys andthe whistles summoning cabs.
As he came nearer, he had a hideous suspicion, which soon became acertainty, that the entertainment was at his own house; worse still, itwas of a kind and on a scale calculated to shock and horrify any prudenthouseholder and father of a family.
The balcony above the portico was positively hung with gaudy Chineselanterns, and there were even some strange sticks and shapes up in onecorner that looked suspiciously like fireworks. Fireworks in WestbourneTerrace! What would the neighbours think or do?
Between the wall which separates the main road from the terrace and thestreet front there were no less than four piano-organs, playing, it isto be feared, by express invitation; and there was the usual crowd ofidlers and loungers standing about by the awning stretched over theportico, listening to the music and loud laughter which came from thebrilliantly lighted upper rooms.
Paul remembered then, too late, that Barbara in that memorable letterof hers had mentioned a grand children's party as being incontemplation. Dick had held his tongue about it that morning; and hehimself had not thought it was to be so soon.
For an instant he felt almost inclined to turn away and give the wholething up in sick despair--even to return to Market Rodwell and brave theDoctor's anger; for how could he hope to explain matters to his familyand servants, or get the Garuda Stone safely into his hands again beforeall these guests, in the whirl and tumult of an evening party?
And yet he dared not, after all, go back to Crichton House--that was tooterrible an alternative, and he obviously could not roam the world toany extent, a runaway schoolboy to all appearance, and with less than asovereign in his pocket!
After a short struggle, he felt he must make his way in, watch and wait,and leave the rest to chance. It was his evil fate, after all, that hadled him on to make his escape on this night of all others, and hadallowed him to come through so much, only to be met with theseunforeseen complications just when he might have imagined the worst wasover.
He forced his way through the staring crowd, and went down the stepsinto the area; for he naturally shrank from braving the front door, withits crowd of footmen and hired waiters.
He found the door in the basement open, which was fortunate, and slippedquietly through the pantry, intending to reach the hall by the kitchenstairs. But here another check met him. The glass door which led to thestairs happened to be shut, and he heard voices in the kitchen, whichconvinced him that if he wished to escape notice he must wait quietly inthe darkness until the door was opened for him, whenever that might be.
The door from the pantry to the kitchen was partly open, however, andMr. Bultitude could not avoid hearing everything that passed there,although every fresh word added to his uneasiness, until at last hewould have given worlds to escape from his involuntary position ofeavesdropper.
There were only two persons just then in the kitchen: his cook, who,still in her working dress, was refreshing herself after her laboursover the supper with a journal of some sort, and the housemaid, who, inneat gala costume, was engaged in fastening a pin more securely in herwhite cap.
"They haven't give me a answer yet, Eliza," said the cook, looking upfrom her paper.
"Lor, cook!" said Eliza, "you couldn't hardly expect it, seeing you onlywrote on Friday."
"No more I did, Eliza. You see it on'y began to come into my mind suddenlike this last week. I'm sure I no more dreamt----. But they've answereda lady who's bin in much the same situation as me aperiently. You just'ark to this a minute." And she proceeded to read from her paper:"'_Lady Bird._--You ask us (1) what are the signs by which you mayrecognise the first dawnings of your lover's affection. On so delicate amatter we are naturally averse from advising you; your own heart must beyour best guide. But perhaps we may mention a few of the most usual andinfallible symptoms'--What sort of a thing is a symptim, Eliza?"
"A symptim, cook," explained Eliza, "is somethink wrong with the inside.Her at my last place in Cadogan Square had them uncommon bad. She waswhat they call aesthetical, pore young thing. Them infallible ones arealways the worst."
"It don't seem to make sense though, Eliza," objected cook doubtfully."Hear how it goes on: 'Infallible symptoms. If you have truly inspiredhim with a genuine and lasting passion' (don't he write beautiful?)'passion, he will continually haunt those places in which you are mostlikely to be found' (I couldn't tell you the times master's bin down inmy kitching this last week); 'he will appear awkward and constrained inyour presence' (anything more awkward than master _I_ never set eyes on.He's knocked down one of the best porcelain vegetables this veryafternoon!); 'he will beg for any little favours, some trifle, it maybe, made by your own hand' (master's always a-asking if I've got any ofthose doughnuts to give away); 'and, if granted, he will treasure themin secret with pride and rapture' (I don't think master kep' any of themdoughnuts though, Eliza. I saw him swaller five; but you couldn'ttreasure a doughnut, not to mention---- I'll make him a pincushion whenI've time, and see what he does with it). 'If you detect all theseindications of liking in the person you suspect of paying his addressesto you, you may safely reckon upon bringing him to your feet in a veryshort space of time. (2) Yes, fuller's earth will make them exquisitelywhite.'"
"There, Eliza!" said cook, with some pride, when she had finished; "ifit had been meant for me it couldn't have been clearer. Ain't it writtennice? And on'y to think of my bringing master to my feet! It seemsalmost too much for a cook to expect!"
"I wouldn't say so, cook; I wouldn't. Have some proper pride. Don't lethim think he's only to ask and have! Why, in the _London Journal_ lastweek there was a dook as married a governess; and I should 'ope as acook ranked above a governess. Nor yet master ain't a dook; he's only inthe City! But are you sure he's not only a-trifling with youraffections, cook? He's bin very affable and pleasant with all of uslately."
"It ain't for me to speak too positive, Eliza," said cook almostbashfully, "nor to lay bare the feelings of a bosom, beyond what's rightand proper. You're young yet, Eliza, and don't understand thesethings--leastways, it's to be hoped not" (Eliza having apparently tossedher head); "but do you remember that afternoon last week as masterstayed at home a-playin' games with the children? I was a-goin' upstairsto fetch my thimble, and there, on the bedroom landin', was master allalone, with one of Master Dick's toy-guns in his 'and, and a old slouch'at on his head.
"'Have you got a p
ass, cook?' he says, and my 'art came right up into mymouth, he looked that severe and lofty at me. I thought he was put outabout something."
"I said I didn't know as it was required, but I could get one, I says,not knowing what he was alludin' to all the same."
"But he says, quite soft and tender-like," (here Paul shivered withshame), "'No, you needn't do that, cook, there ain't any occasion forit; only,' he says, 'if you haven't got no pass, you'll have to give mea kiss, you know, cook!' I thought I should have sunk through thestairs, I was that overcome. I saw through his rouge with half an eye."
"Why, he said the same to me," said Eliza, "only I had a pass, as luckhad it, which Miss Barbara give me. I'd ha' boxed his ears if he'd triedit, too, master or no master!"
"You talk light, Eliza," said the cook sentimentally, "but you weren'tthere to see. It wasn't only the words, it was the way he said it, andthe 'ug he gave me at the time. It was as good as a proposial. And, Itell you, whatever you may say--and mark my words--I 'ave 'opes!"
"Then, if I was you, cook," said Eliza, "I'd try if I could get him tospeak out plain in writing; then, whatever came of it, there'd be asgood as five hundred pounds in your pockets."
"Love-letters!" cried the cook, "why, Lord love you, Eliza---- Why,William, how you made me jump! I thought you was up seein' to thesupper-table."
"The pastrycook's man is looking after all that, Jane," said Boaler'svoice. "I've been up outside the droring-room all this time, lookin' atthe games goin' on in there. It's as good as a play to see the way asmaster is a unbendin' of himself, and such a out and out stiff-un as heused to be, too! But it ain't what I like to see in a respectable house.I'm glad I give warning. It doesn't do for a man in my position tocompromise his character by such goings on. I never see anything like itin any families I lived with before. Just come up and see for yourself.You needn't mind about cleanin' of yourself--they won't see you."
So the cook allowed herself to be persuaded by Boaler, and the two wentup to the hall, and, to Mr. Bultitude's intense relief, forgot to closethe glazed door which cut him off from the staircase.
As he followed them upstairs at a cautious interval, and thought overwhat he had just so unwillingly overheard, he felt as one who had justbeen subjected to a moral showerbath. "That dreadful woman!" he groaned."Who would have dreamed that she would get such horrible ideas into herhead? I shall never be able to look either of those women in the faceagain: they will both have to go--and she made such excellent soup, too.I do hope that miserable Dick has not been fool enough to write toher--but no, that's too absurd."
But more than ever he began to wish that he had stayed in theplayground.
When he reached the hall he stood there for some moments in anxiousdeliberation over his best course of proceeding. His main idea was tolie in wait somewhere for Dick, and try the result of an appeal to hisbetter feelings to acknowledge his outcast parent and abdicategracefully.
If that failed, and there was every reason to expect that it would fail,he must threaten to denounce him before the whole party. It would causea considerable scandal no doubt, and be extremely repugnant to his ownfeelings, but still he must do it, or frighten Dick by threatening to doit, and at all hazards he must contrive during the interview to snatchor purloin the magic stone; without that he was practically helpless.
He looked round him: the study was piled up with small boys' hats andcoats, and in one corner was a kind of refined bar, where till lately atrim housemaid had been dispensing coffee and weak lemonade; she mightreturn at any moment, he would not be safe there.
Nor would the dining-room be more secluded, for in it there was anelaborate supper being laid out by the waiters which, as far as he couldsee through the crack in the door, consisted chiefly of lobsters,trifle, and pink champagne. He felt a grim joy at the sight, more thanhe would suffer for this night's festivities.
As he stole about, with a dismal sense of the unfitness of his sneakingabout his own house in this guilty fashion, he became gradually aware ofthe scent of a fine cigar, one of his own special Cabanas. He wonderedwho had the impudence to trespass on his cigar-chest; it could hardly beone of the children.
He traced the scent to a billiard room which he had built out at theside of the house, which was a corner one, and going down to the dooropened it sharply and walked in.
Comfortably imbedded in the depths of a long well-padded lounging chair,with a spirit case and two or three bottles of soda water at his elbow,sat a man who was lazily glancing through the _Field_ with his feetresting on the mantelpiece, one on each side of the blazing fire. He wasa man of about the middle size, with a face rather bronzed and reddenedby climate, a nose slightly aquiline and higher in colour, quick blackeyes with an uneasy glance in them, bushy black whiskers, more like theantiquated "Dundreary" type than modern fashion permits, and a wideflexible mouth.
Paul knew him at once, though he had not seen him for some years; it wasParadine, his disreputable brother-in-law--the "Uncle Marmaduke" who, byimporting the mysterious Garuda Stone, had brought all these woes uponhim; he noticed at once that his appearance was unusually prosperous,and that the braided smoking coat he wore over his evening clothes wasnew and handsome. "No wonder," he thought bitterly, "the fellow has beenliving on me for a week!" He stood by the cue-rack looking at him forsome time, and then he said with a cold ironic dignity that (if he hadknown it) came oddly from his boyish lips: "I hope you are makingyourself quite comfortable?"
Marmaduke put down his cigar and stared: "Uncommonly attentive andpolite of you to inquire," he said at last, with a dubious smile, whichshowed a row of very white teeth, "whoever you are. If it will relieveyour mind at all to know, young man, I'm happy to say I am tolerablycomfortable, thanks."
"I--I concluded as much," said Paul, nearly choked with rage.
"You've been very nicely brought up," said Uncle Marmaduke, "I can seethat at a glance. So you've come in here, like me, eh? because thechildren bore you, and you want a quiet gossip over the world ingeneral? Sit down then, take a cigar, if you don't think it will makeyou very unwell. I shouldn't recommend it myself, you know, beforesupper--but you're a man of the world and know what's good for you. Comealong, enjoy yourself till you find yourself getting queer--then dropit."
Mr. Bultitude had always detested the man--there was an underbredswagger and familiarity in his manner that made him indescribablyoffensive; just now he seemed doubly detestable, and yet Paul by astrong effort succeeded in controlling his temper.
He could not afford to make enemies just then, and objectionable as theman was, his astuteness made him a valuable ally; he determined, withoutconsidering the risk of making such a confident, to tell him all and askhis advice and help.
"Don't you know me, Paradine?"
"I don't think I have the privilege--you're one of Miss Barbara'snumerous young friends, I suppose? and yet, now I look at you, youdon't seem to be exactly got up for an evening party; there's somethingin your voice, too, I ought to know."
"You ought," said Paul, with a gulp. "My name is Paul Bultitude!"
"To be sure!" cried Marmaduke. "By Jove, then, you're my young nephew,don't you know; I'm your long-lost uncle, my boy, I am indeed (I'llexcuse you from coming to my arms, however; I never was good at familyembraces). But, I say, you little rascal, you've never been asked tothese festivities, you ought to be miles away, fast asleep in your bedat school. What in the name of wonder are you doing here?"
"I've--left school," said Paul.
"So I perceive. Sulky because they left you out of all this, eh? Thoughtyou'd turn up in the middle of the banquet, like the spectrebridegroom--'the worms they crawled in, and the worms they crawled out,'eh? Well, I like your pluck, but, ahem--I'm afraid you'll find they'verather an unpleasant way of laying your kind of apparitions."
"Never mind about that," said Paul hurriedly; "I have something I musttell you--I've no time to lose. I'm a desperate man!"
"You are," Paradine assented with a loud laugh, "oh, you
are indeed! 'adesperate man.' Capital! a stern chase, eh? the schoolmaster closebehind with the birch! It's quite exciting, you know, but, seriously,I'm very much afraid you'll catch it!"
"If," began Mr. Bultitude in great embarrassment, "if I was to tell youthat I was not myself at all--but somebody else, a--in fact, an entirelydifferent person from what I seem to you to be--I suppose you wouldlaugh?"
"I beg your pardon," said his brother-in-law politely, "I don't think Iquite catch the idea."
"When I assure you now, solemnly, as I stand here before you, that I amnot the miserable boy whose form I am condemned to--to wear, you'll sayit is incredible?"
"Not at all--by no means, I quite believe you. Only (really it's a meredetail), but I should rather like to know, if you're not that particularboy, what other boy you may happen to be. You'll forgive my curiosity."
"I'm not a boy at all--I'm your own unhappy brother-in-law, Paul! Youdon't believe me, I see."
"Oh, pardon me, it's perfectly clear! you're not your own son, but yourown father--it's a little confusing at first, but no doubt commonenough. I'm glad you mentioned it, though."
"Go on," said Paul bitterly, "make light of it--you fancy you are beingvery clever, but you will find out the truth in time!"
"Not without external assistance, I'm afraid," said Paradine calmly. "Amore awful little liar for your age I never saw!"
"I'm tired of this," said Paul. "Only listen to reason and commonsense!"
"Only give me a chance."
"I tell you," protested Paul earnestly, "it's the sober awful truth--I'mnot a boy, it's years since I was a boy--I'm a middle-aged man, thrustinto this, this humiliating form."
"Don't say that," murmured the other; "it's an excellent fit--verybecoming, I assure you."
"Do you want to drive me mad with your clumsy jeers?" cried Paul. "Lookat me. Do I speak, do I behave, like an ordinary schoolboy?"
"I really hope not--for the sake of the rising generation," said UncleMarmaduke, chuckling at his own powers of repartee.
"You are very jaunty to-day--you look as if you were well off," saidPaul slowly. "I remember a time when a certain bill was presented to me,drawn by you, and appearing to be accepted (long before I ever saw it)by me. I consented to meet it for my poor Maria's sake, and because todisown my signature would have ruined you for life. Do you remember howyou went down on your knees in my private room and swore you wouldreform and be a credit to your family yet? You weren't quite so welloff, or so jaunty then, unless I am very much mistaken."
These words had an extraordinary effect upon Uncle Marmaduke; he turnedashy white, and his quick eyes shifted restlessly as he half rose fromhis chair and threw away his unfinished cigar.
"You young hound!" he said, breathing hard and speaking under hisbreath. "How did you get hold of that--that lying story? Your fathermust have let it out! Why do you bring up bygones like this? You--you'rea confounded, disagreeable little prig! Who told you to play anill-natured trick of this sort on an uncle, who may have been wild andreckless in his youth--was in fact--but who never, never misused hisrelation towards you as--as an uncle?"
"How did I get hold of the story?" said Paul, observing the impressionhe had made. "Do you think if I were really a boy of thirteen I shouldknow as much about you as I do? Do you want to know more? Ask, if youdare! Shall I tell you how it was you left your army coach without goingup for examination? Will you have the story of your career in my oldfriend Parkinson's counting-house, or the real reason of your trip toNew York, or what it was that made your father add that codicil, cuttingyou off with a set of engravings of the 'Rake's Progress,' and a guineato pay for framing them? I can tell you all about it, if you care tohear."
"No!" shrieked Paradine, "I won't listen. When you grow up, ask yourfather to buy you a cheap Society journal. You're cut out for an editorof one. It doesn't interest me."
"Do you believe my story or not?" asked Paul.
"I don't know. Who could believe it?" said the other sullenly. "How canyou possibly account for it?"
"Do you remember giving Maria a little sandal-wood box with a smallstone in it?" said Paul.
"I have some recollection of giving her something of that kind. Acuriosity, wasn't it?"
"I wish I had never seen it. That infernal stone, Paradine, has done allthis to me. Did no one tell you it was supposed to have any magicpower?"
"Why, now I think of it, that old black rascal, Bindabun Doss, did tryto humbug me with some such story; said it was believed to be atalisman, but the secret was lost. I thought it was just his stingy wayof trying to make the rubbish out as something priceless, as it ought tohave been, considering all I did for the old ruffian."
"You told Maria it was a talisman. Bindabun what's-his-name was right.It is a talisman of the deadliest sort. I'll soon convince you, if youwill only hear me out."
And then, in white-hot wrath and indignation, Mr. Bultitude began totell the story I have already attempted to sketch here, dwellingbitterly on Dick's heartless selfishness and cruelty, and piteously onhis own incredible sufferings, while Uncle Marmaduke, lolling back inhis armchair with an attempt (which was soon abandoned) to retain asmile of amused scepticism on his face, heard him out in completesilence and with all due gravity.
Indeed, Paul's manner left him no room for further unbelief. His tale,wild and improbable as it was, was too consistent and elaborate for anyschoolboy to have invented, and, besides, the imposture would have beenso entirely purposeless.
When his brother-in-law had come to the end of his sad history, Paradinewas silent for some time. It was some relief to know that the darkestsecrets of his life had not been ferreted out by a phenomenally sharpnephew; but the change in the situation was not without itsdrawbacks--it remained to be seen how it might affect himself. Healready saw his reign in Westbourne Terrace threatened with a speedydetermination unless he played his cards well.
"Well," he said at last, with a swift, keen glance at Paul, who satanxiously waiting for his next words; "suppose I were to say that Ithink there may be something in this story of yours, what then? What isit you want me to do for you?"
"Why," said Paul, "with all you owe to me, now you know the horribleinjustice I have had to bear, you surely don't mean to say that youwon't help me to right myself?"
"And if I did help you, what then?"
"Why, I should be able to recover all I have lost, of course," said Mr.Bultitude. He thought his brother-in-law had grown very dull.
"Ah, but I mean, what's to become of _me_?"
"You?" repeated Paul (he had not thought of that). "Well, hum, from whatI know and what you know that I know about your past life, you can'texpect me to encourage you to remain here?"
"No," said Uncle Marmaduke. "Of course not; very right and proper."
"But," said Paul, willing to make all reasonable concessions, "anythingI can do to advance your prospects--such as paying your passage out toNew York, you know, and so on--I should be very ready to do."
"Thank you!" said the other.
"And even, if necessary, provide you with a small fund to start afreshupon--honestly," said Paul; "you will not find me difficult to dealwith."
"It's a dazzling proposition," remarked Paradine drily. "You have suchan alluring way of putting things. But the fact, is, you'll hardlybelieve it, but I'm remarkably well off here. I am indeed. Your son, youknow, though not you (except as a mere matter of form), really makes, asthey say of the marmalade in the advertisements, an admirablesubstitute. I doubt, I do assure you, whether you yourself would havereceived me with quite the same warmth and hospitality I have met withfrom him."
"So do I," said Paul; "very much."
"Just so; for, without your admirable business capacity andextraordinary firmness of character, you know, he has, if you'll excusemy saying so, a more open guileless nature, a more entire and touchingfaith in his fellow-man and brother-in-law, than were ever yours."
"To say that to me," said Paul hotly, "is nothing less
than sheerimpudence."
"My dear Paul (it does seem deuced odd to be talking to a little shrimplike you as a grown-up brother-in-law. I shall get used to it presently,I daresay). I flatter myself I am a man of the world. We're dealing withone another now, as the lawyers have it, at arm's length. Just putyourself in my place (you're so remarkably good at putting yourself inother people's places, you know). Look at the thing from my point ofview. Accidentally dropping in at your offices to negotiate (if I could)a small temporary loan from anyone I chanced to meet on the premises, Ifind myself, to my surprise, welcomed with effusion into what I thenimagined to be your arms. More than that, I was invited here for anindefinite time, all my little eccentricities unmentioned, overlooked. Iwas deeply touched (it struck me, I confess, at one time that you mustbe touched too), but I made the best use of my opportunities. I made haywhile the sun shone."
"Do you mean to make me lose my temper?" interrupted Paul. "It will nottake much more."
"I have no objection. I find men as a rule easier to deal with when theyhave once lost their temper, their heads so often go too. But to return:a man with nerve and his fair share of brains, like myself, only wants acapitalist (he need not be a millionaire) at his back to conquer theworld. It's not by any means my first campaign, and I've had myreverses, but I see victory in my grasp, sir, in my grasp at last!"
Paul groaned.
"Now you--it's not your fault, I know, a mere defect of constitution;but you, as a speculator, were, if I may venture to put it so, not worthyour salt; no boldness, no dash, all caution. But your promising son isa regular whale on speculation, and I may tell you that we stand intogether in some little ventures that would very probably make your hairstand on end--_you_ wouldn't have touched them. And yet there's money inevery one of them."
"_My_ money!" said Paul savagely; "and it won't come out again."
"You don't know much about these things, you see," said Marmaduke; "Itell you I have my eye on some fine openings for capital."
"Your pockets always were very fine openings for capital," retortedPaul.
"Ha, ha, deuced sharp that! But, to come to the point, you were always asensible practical kind of a fellow, and you must see, that, for me toback you up and upset this young rascal who has stepped into yourslippers, might be morally meritorious enough, but, treating it from apurely pecuniary point of view, it's not business."
"I see," said Mr. Bultitude heavily; "then you side against me?"
"Did I ever say I would side against you? Let us hear first what youpropose to do."
Paul, upon this, explained that, as he believed the Stone still retainedits power of granting one wish to any other person who happened to gethold of it, his idea was to get possession of it somehow from Dick, whoprobably would have it about him somewhere, and then pass it on to someone whom he could trust not to misuse it so basely.
"A good idea that, Paul, my boy," said Paradine, smiling; "but youdon't imagine our young friend would be quite such an idiot as not tosee your game! Why, he would pitch the Stone in the gutter or stamp itto powder, rather than let you get hold of it."
"He's quite capable of it," said Paul; "in fact, he threatened to doworse than that. I doubt if I shall ever be able to manage it myself;but what am I to do? I must try, and I've no time to lose about iteither."
"I tell you this," said Marmaduke, "if you let him see you here, it'sall up with you. What you want is some friend to manage this for you,some one he won't suspect. Now, suppose I were willing to risk it foryou?"
"You!" cried Paul, with involuntary distrust.
"Why not?" said Marmaduke, with a touch of feeling. "Ah, I see, youcan't trust me. You've got an idea into your head that I'm athorough-paced rascal, without a trace of human feeling about me. Idaresay I deserve it, I daresay I do; but it's not generous, my boy, forall that. I hope to show you your mistake yet, if you give me thechance. You allow yourself to be prejudiced by the past, that's whereyou make your mistake. I only put before you clearly and plainly what itwas I was giving up in helping you. A fellow may have a hard cynicalkind of way of putting things, and yet, take my word for it, Paul, havea heart as tender as a spring chicken underneath. I believe I'msomething like that myself. I tell you I'm sorry for you. I don't liketo see a family man of your position in such a regular deuce of a hole.I feel bound to give you a lift out of it, and let my prospects taketheir own chance. I leave the gratitude to you. When I've done, kick medown the doorsteps if you like. I shall go out into the world with theglow of self-approval (and rapid motion) warming my system. Take myadvice, don't attempt to tackle Master Dick yourself. Leave him to me."
"If I could only make up my mind to trust you!" muttered Paul.
"The old distrust!" cried Marmaduke; "you can't forget. You won'tbelieve a poor devil like me can have any gratitude, anydisinterestedness left in him. Never mind, I'll go. I'll leave it toyou. I'll send Dick in here, and we shall see whether he's such a foolas you think him."
"No," said Paul, "no; I feel you're right; that would never do."
"It would be for my advantage, I think," said the other, "but you hadbetter take me while I am in a magnanimous mood, the opportunity maynever occur again. Come, am I to help you or not? Yes or no?"
"I must accept," said Paul reluctantly; "I can't find Boaler now, and itmight take hours to make him see what I wanted. I'll trust to yourhonour. What shall I do?"
"Do? Get away from this, he'll be coming in here very soon to see me.Run away and play with the children or hide in the chinacloset--anything but stay here."
"I--I must be here while you are managing him," objected Paul.
"Nonsense!" said Paradine angrily. "I tell you it will spoil all, unlessyou--who's that? it's his step--too late now--dash it all! Behind thatscreen, quick--don't move for your life till I tell you you may comeout!"
Mr. Bultitude had no choice; there was just time to set up an oldfolding screen which stood in a corner of the room and slip behind itbefore the door opened.
It might not be the highest wisdom to trust everything to his new allyin this manner; but what else could he do, except stand by in forcedinactivity while the momentous duel was being fought out? Just then, atall events, he saw no other course.