THAT evoked spirit, Dingwell, was now functus officio, and might be dismissed. He was as much afraid of the light of London — even the gaslight — as a man of his audacity could be of anything. Still he lingered there.

Mr. Larkin had repeatedly congratulated the Verney peer, and his young friend and patron, Cleve, upon his own masterly management, and the happy result of the case, as he called it. And although, with scriptural warning before him, he would be the last man in the world to say, “Is not this great Babylon that I have builded?” Yet he did wish Lord Viscount Verney, and Cleve Verney, M.P., distinctly to understand that he, Mr. Larkin, had been the making of them. There were some things — very many things, in fact, all desirable — which those distinguished persons could effect for the good attorney of Glyngden, and that excellent person in consequence presented himself diligently at Verney House.

On the morning I now speak of, he was introduced to the library, where he found the peer and his nephew.

“I ventured to call, my lord — how do you do, Mr. Verney? — to invite your lordship’s attention to the position of Mr. Dingwell, who is compelled by lack of funds to prolong his stay in London. He is, I may say, most anxious to take his departure quietly and expeditiously, for Constantinople, where, I venture to think, it is expedient for all parties, that his residence should be fixed, rather than in London, where he is in hourly danger of detection and arrest, the consequence of which, my lord; — it will probably have struck your lordship’s rapid apprehension already — would be, I venture to think, a very painful investigation of his past life, and a concomitant discrediting of his character, which although, as your lordship would point out to me, it cannot disturb that which is already settled, would yet produce an unpleasant effect out of doors, which, it is to be feared, he would take care to aggravate by all means in his power, were he to refer his detention here, and consequent arrest, to any fancied economy on your lordship’s part.”

“I don’t quite follow you about it, Mr. Larkin,” said Lord Verney, who generally looked a little stern when he was puzzled. “I don’t quite apprehend the drift — be good enough to sit down — about it — of your remarks, as they bear upon Mr. Dingwell’s wishes, and my conduct. Do you, Cleve?”

“I conjecture that Dingwell wants more money, and can’t be got out of London without it,” said Cleve.

“Eh? Well, that did occur to me; of course, that’s plain enough — about it — and what a man that must be! and — God bless me! about it — all the money he has got from me! It’s incredible, Mr. — a —Larkin, three hundred pounds, you know, and he wanted five, and that absurdly enormous weekly payment besides!”

“Your lordship has exactly, as usual, touched the point, and anticipated, with your wonted accuracy, the line at the other side; and indeed, I may also say, all that may be urged by way of argument, pro and con. It is a wonderful faculty!” added Mr. Larkin, looking down with a contemplative smile, and a little wondering shake of the head.

“Ha, ha! Something of the same sort has been remarked in our family about it,” said the Viscount, much pleased. “It facilitates business, rather, I should hope — about it.”

The attorney shook his head, reflectively, raising his hands, and said, “No one but a professional man can have an idea!”

“And what do you suggest?” asked Cleve, who was perhaps a little tired of the attorney’s compliments.

“Yes, what do you suggest, Mr. — Mr. Larkin? Your suggestion I should be prepared to consider. Anything, Mr. Larkin, suggested by you shall be considered,” said Lord Verney grandly, leaning back in his chair, and folding his hands.

“I am much — very much — flattered by your lordship’s confidence. The former money, I have reason to think, my lord, went to satisfy an old debt, and I have reason to know that his den has been discovered by another creditor, from whom, even were funds at his disposal to leave England to-night, escape would be difficult, if not impossible.”

“How much money does he want?” asked Mr. Cleve Verney.

“A moment, a moment, please. I was going to say,” said Lord Verney, “if he wants money — about it — it would be desirable to state the amount.”

Mr. Larkin, thus called on, cleared his voice, and his dove-like eyes contracted, and assumed their rat-like look, and he said, watching Lord Verney’s face —

“I am afraid, my lord, that less than three hundred ——”

Lord Verney contracted his brows, and nodded, after a moment.

“Three hundred pounds. Less, I say, my lord, will not satisfy the creditor, and there will remain something still in order to bring him back, and to keep him quiet there for a time; and I think, my lord, if you will go the length of five hundred ——”

“‘Gad, it’s growing quite serious, Mr. — Mr. Sir, I confess I don’t half understand this person, Mr. Ding — Dong — whatever it is — it’s going rather too fast about it. I— I— and that’s my clear opinion —” and Lord Verney gazed and blinked sternly at the attorney, and patted his fragrant pocket-handkerchief several times to his chin —“very unreasonable and monstrous, and, considering all I’ve done, very ungrateful.”

“Quite so, my lord; monstrously ungrateful. I can’t describe to your lordship the trouble I have had with that extraordinary and, I fear I must add, fiendish person. I allude, of course, my lord, in my privileged character as having the honour of confidential relations with your lordship, to that unfortunate man, Dingwell. I assure you, on one occasion, he seized a poker in his lodgings, and threatened to dash my brains out.”

“Very good, sir,” said Lord Verney, whose mind was busy upon quite another point; “and suppose I do, what do we gain, I ask, by assisting him?”

“Simply, my lord, he is so incredibly reckless, and, as I have said, fiendish, that if he were disappointed, I do think he will stick at nothing, even to the length of swearing that his evidence for your lordship was perjured, for the purpose of being revenged, and your generosity to him pending the inquiry, or rather the preparation of proofs, would give a colour unfortunately even to that monstrous allegation. Your lordship can have no idea — the elevation of your own mind prevents it — of the desperate character with whom we have had to deal.”

“Upon my life, sir, a pleasant position you seem to have brought me into,” said Lord Verney, flushing a good deal.

“My lord, it was inevitable,” said Mr. Larkin, sadly.

“I don’t think he could have helped it, really,” said Cleve Verney.

“And who says he could?” asked Lord Verney, tartly. “I’ve all along said it could not well be helped, and that’s the reason I did it, don’t you see? but I may be allowed to say, I suppose, that the position is a most untoward one; and so it is, egad!” and Lord Verney got up in his fidget, and walked over to the window, and to the chimney-piece, and to the table, and fiddled with a great many things.

“I remember my late brother, Shadwell Verney — he’s dead, poor Shadwell — had a world of trouble with a fellow — about it — who used to extort money from him — something I suppose — like this Mr. Ringwood — or I mean — you know his name — till he called in the police, and put an end to it.”

“Quite true, my lord, quite true; but don’t you think, my lord, such a line with Mr. Dingwell might lead to a fraycas, and the possible unpleasantness to which I ventured to allude? You have seen him, Mr. Verney?”

“Yes; he’s a beast, he really is; a little bit mad, I almost think.”

“A little bit mad, precisely so; it really is, my lord, most melancholy. And I am so clearly of opinion that if we quarrel definitively with Mr. Dingwell, we may find ourselves in an extremely difficult position, that were the case my own, I should have no hesitation in satisfying Mr. Dingwell, even at a sacrifice, rather than incur the annoyance I anticipate. If you allow me, my lord, to conduct the matter with Mr. Dingwell, I think I shall succeed in getting him away quietly.”

“It seems to me a very serious sum, Mr. Larkin,” said Lord Verney.

“Precisely so, my lord; serious — very serious; but your lordship made a remark once in my hearing which impressed me powerfully: it was to the effect that where an object is to be accomplished, it is better to expend a little too much power, than anything too little.” I think that Mr. Larkin invented this remark of Lord Verney’s, which, however, his lordship was pleased to recognise, notwithstanding.

So the attorney took his departure, to call again next day.

“Clever man that Mr. — Mr. Larkin — vastly clever,” said Lord Verney. “I rather think there’s a great deal in what he says — it’s very disgusting — about it; but one must consider, you know — there’s no harm in considering — and — and that Mr. — Dong — Dingleton, isn’t it? — about it — a most offensive person. I must consider — I shall think it over, and give him my ideas tomorrow.”

Cleve did not like an expression which had struck him in the attorney’s face that day, and he proposed next day to write to Mr. Dingwell, and actually did so, requesting that he would be so good as to call at Verney House.

Mr. Dingwell did not come; but a note came by post, saying that the writer, Mr. Dingwell, was not well enough to venture a call.

What I term Mr. Larkin’s rat-like eyes, and a certain dark and even wicked look that crosses the attorney’s face, when they appear, had left a profound sense of uncertainty in Cleve’s mind respecting that gentleman’s character and plans. It was simply a conviction that the attorney meditated something odd about Mr. Dingwell, and that no good man could look as he had looked.

There was no use in opening his suspicion, grounded on so slight a thing as a look, to his uncle, who, though often timid and hesitating, and in secret helpless, and at his wits’ end for aid in arriving at a decision, was yet, in a matter where vanity was concerned, or a strong prejudice or caprice involved, often incredibly obstinate.

Mr. Larkin’s look teased Cleve. Larkin might grow into an influence very important to that young gentleman, and was not lightly to be quarrelled with. He would not quarrel with him; but he would see Dingwell, if indeed that person were still in London; a fact about which he had begun to have some odd misgivings. The note was written in a straight, cramp hand, and Mr. Larkin’s face was in the background always. He knew Mr. Dingwell’s address; an answer, real or forged, had reached him from it. So, full of dark dreams and conjectures, he got into a cab, and drove to the entrance of Rosemary Court, and knocked at Miss Sarah Rumble’s door.

That good lady, from the shadow, looked suspiciously on him.

“Is Mr. Dingwell at home?”

“Mr. Dingwell, sir?” she repeated.

“Yes. Is he at home?”

“Mr. Dingwell, sir? No sir.”

“Does not Mr. Dingwell live here?”

“There was a gentleman, please, sir, with ............