About this time, a fortnight or nearly so before the election, Mr Longestaffe came up to town and saw Mr Melmotte very frequently. He could not go into his own house, as he had let that for a month to the great financier, nor had he any establishment in town; but he slept at an hotel and lived at the Carlton. He was quite delighted to find that his new friend was an honest Conservative, and he himself proposed the honest Conservative at the club. There was some idea of electing Mr Melmotte out of hand, but it was decided that the club could not go beyond its rule, and could only admit Mr Melmotte out of his regular turn as soon as he should occupy a seat in the House of Commons. Mr Melmotte, who was becoming somewhat arrogant, was heard to declare that if the club did not take him when he was willing to be taken, it might do without him. If not elected at once, he should withdraw his name. So great was his prestige at this moment with his own party that there were some, Mr Longestaffe among the number, who pressed the thing on the committee. Mr Melmotte was not like other men. It was a great thing to have Mr Melmotte in the party. Mr Melmotte’s financial capabilities would in themselves be a tower of strength. Rules were not made to control the club in a matter of such importance as this. A noble lord, one among seven who had been named as a fit leader of the Upper House on the Conservative side in the next session, was asked to take the matter up; and men thought that the thing might have been done had he complied. But he was old-fashioned, perhaps pig-headed; and the club for the time lost the honour of entertaining Mr Melmotte.

It may be remembered that Mr Longestaffe had been anxious to become one of the directors of the Mexican Railway, and that he was rather snubbed than encouraged when he expressed his wish to Mr Melmotte. Like other great men, Mr Melmotte liked to choose his own time for bestowing favours. Since that request was made the proper time had come, and he had now intimated to Mr Longestaffe that in a somewhat altered condition of things there would be a place for him at the Board, and that he and his brother directors would be delighted to avail themselves of his assistance. The alliance between Mr Melmotte and Mr Longestaffe had become very close. The Melmottes had visited the Longestaffes at Caversham. Georgiana Longestaffe was staying with Madame Melmotte in London. The Melmottes were living in Mr Longestaffe’s town house, having taken it for a month at a very high rent. Mr Longestaffe now had a seat at Mr Melmotte’s board. And Mr Melmotte had bought Mr Longestaffe’s estate at Pickering on terms very favourable to the Longestaffes. It had been suggested to Mr Longestaffe by Mr Melmotte that he had better qualify for his seat at the Board by taking shares in the Company to the amount of — perhaps two or three thousand pounds, and Mr Longestaffe had of course consented. There would be no need of any transaction in absolute cash. The shares could of course be paid for out of Mr Longestaffe’s half of the purchase money for Pickering Park, and could remain for the present in Mr Melmotte’s hands. To this also Mr Longestaffe had consented, not quite understanding why the scrip should not be made over to him at once.

It was a part of the charm of all dealings with this great man that no ready money seemed ever to be necessary for anything. Great purchases were made and great transactions apparently completed without the signing even of a cheque. Mr Longestaffe found himself to be afraid even to give a hint to Mr Melmotte about ready money. In speaking of all such matters Melmotte seemed to imply that everything necessary had been done, when he had said that it was done. Pickering had been purchased and the title-deeds made over to Mr Melmotte; but the ￡80,000 had not been paid — had not been absolutely paid, though of course Mr Melmotte’s note assenting to the terms was security sufficient for any reasonable man. The property had been mortgaged, though not heavily, and Mr Melmotte had no doubt satisfied the mortgagee; but there was still a sum of ￡50,000 to come, of which Dolly was to have one half and the other was to be employed in paying off Mr Longestaffe’s debts to tradesmen and debts to the bank. It would have been very pleasant to have had this at once — but Mr Longestaffe felt the absurdity of pressing such a man as Mr Melmotte, and was partly conscious of the gradual consummation of a new era in money matters. ‘If your banker is pressing you, refer him to me,’ Mr Melmotte had said. As for many years past we have exchanged paper instead of actual money for our commodities, so now it seemed that, under the new Melmotte regime, an exchange of words was to suffice.

But Dolly wanted his money. Dolly, idle as he was, foolish as he was, dissipated as he was and generally indifferent to his debts, liked to have what belonged to him. It had all been arranged. ￡5,000 would pay off all his tradesmen’s debts and leave him comfortably possessed of money in hand, while the other ￡20,000 would make his own property free. There was a charm in this which awakened even Dolly, and for the time almost reconciled him to his father’s society. But now a shade of impatience was coming over him. He had actually gone down to Caversham to arrange the terms with his father — and had in fact made his own terms. His father had been unable to move him, and had consequently suffered much in spirit. Dolly had been almost triumphant — thinking that the money would come on the next day, or at any rate during the next week. Now he came to his father early in the morning — at about two o’clock — to inquire what was being done. He had not as yet been made blessed with a single ten-pound note in his hand, as the result of the sale.

‘Are you going to see Melmotte, sir?’ he asked somewhat abruptly.

‘Yes; — I’m to be with him to-morrow, and he is to introduce me to the Board.’

‘You’re going in for that, are you, sir? Do they pay anything?’

‘I believe not.’

‘Nidderdale and young Carbury belong to it. It’s a sort of Beargarden affair.’

‘A bear-garden affair, Adolphus. How so?’

‘I mean the club. We had them all there for dinner one day, and a jolly dinner we gave them. Miles Grendall and old Alfred belong to it. I don’t think they’d go in for it, if there was no money going. I’d make them fork out something if I took the trouble of going all that way.’

‘I think that perhaps, Adolphus, you hardly understand these things.’

‘No, I don’t. I don’t understand much about business, I know. What I want to understand is, when Melmotte is going to pay up this money.’

‘I suppose he’ll arrange it with the banks,’ said the father.

‘I beg that he won’t arrange my money with the banks, sir. You’d better tell him not. A cheque upon his bank which I can pay in to mine is about the best thing going. You’ll be in the city to-morrow, and you’d better tell him. If you don’t like, you know, I’ll get Squercum to do it.’ Mr Squercum was a lawyer whom Dolly had employed of late years much to the annoyance of his parent. Mr Squercum’s name was odious to Mr Longestaffe.

‘I beg you’ll do nothing of the kind. It will be very foolish if you do; — perhaps ruinous.’

‘Then he’d better pay up, like anybody else,’ said Dolly as he left the room. The father knew the son, and was quite sure that Squercum would have his finger in the pie unless the money were paid quickly. When Dolly had taken an idea into his head, no power on earth — no power at least of which the father could avail himself — would turn him.

On that same day Melmotte received two visits in the city from two of his fellow directors. At the time he was very busy. Though his electioneering speeches were neither long nor pithy, still he had to think of them beforehand. Members of his Committee were always trying to see him. Orders as to the dinner and the preparation of the house could not be given by Lord Alfred without some reference to him. And then those gigantic commercial affairs which were enumerated in the last chapter could not be adjusted without much labour on his part. His hands were not empty, but still he saw each of these young men — for a few minutes. ‘My dear young friend, what can I do for you?’ he said to Sir Felix, not sitting down, so that Sir Felix also should remain standing.

‘About that money, Mr Melmotte?’

‘What money, my dear fellow? You see that a good many money matters pass through my hands.’

‘The thousand pounds I gave you for shares. If you don’t mind, and as the shares seem to be a bother, I’ll take the money back.’

‘It was only the other day you had ￡200,’ said Melmotte, showing that he could apply his memory to small transactions when he pleased.

‘Exactly; — and you might as well let me have the ￡800.’

‘I............