Melmotte had got back his daughter, and was half inclined to let the matter rest there. He would probably have done so had he not known that all his own household were aware that she had gone off to meet Sir Felix Carbury, and had he not also received the condolence of certain friends in the city. It seemed that about two o’clock in the day the matter was known to everybody. Of course Lord Nidderdale would hear of it, and if so all the trouble that he had taken in that direction would have been taken in vain. Stupid fool of a girl to throw away her chance — nay, to throw away the certainty of a brilliant career, in that way! But his anger against Sir Felix was infinitely more bitter than his anger against his daughter. The man had pledged himself to abstain from any step of this kind — had given a written pledge — had renounced under his own signature his intention of marrying Marie! Melmotte had of course learned all the details of the cheque for ￡250 — how the money had been paid at the bank to Didon, and how Didon had given it to Sir Felix. Marie herself acknowledged that Sir Felix had received the money. If possible he would prosecute the baronet for stealing his money.

Had Melmotte been altogether a prudent man he would probably have been satisfied with getting back his daughter and would have allowed the money to go without further trouble. At this especial point in his career ready money was very valuable to him, but his concerns were of such magnitude that ￡250 could make but little difference. But there had grown upon the man during the last few months an arrogance, a self-confidence inspired in him by the worship of other men, which clouded his intellect, and robbed him of much of that power of calculation which undoubtedly he naturally possessed. He remembered perfectly his various little transactions with Sir Felix. Indeed it was one of his gifts to remember with accuracy all money transactions, whether great or small, and to keep an account book in his head, which was always totted up and balanced with accuracy. He knew exactly how he stood, even with the crossing-sweeper to whom he had given a penny last Tuesday, as with the Longestaffes, father and son, to whom he had not as yet made any payment on behalf of the purchase of Pickering. But Sir Felix’s money had been consigned into his hands for the purchase of shares — and that consignment did not justify Six Felix in taking another sum of money from his daughter. In such a matter he thought that an English magistrate, and an English jury, would all be on his side — especially as he was Augustus Melmotte, the man about to be chosen for Westminster, the man about to entertain the Emperor of China!

The next day was Friday — the day of the Railway Board. Early in the morning he sent a note to Lord Nidderdale.

MY DEAR NIDDERDALE —

Pray come to the Board to-day; — or at any rate come to me in the city. I specially want to speak to you.

Yours,

A. M.

This he wrote, having made up his mind that it would be wise to make a clear breast of it with his hoped-for son-in-law. If there was still a chance of keeping the young lord to his guns that chance would be best supported by perfect openness on his part. The young lord would of course know what Marie had done. But the young lord had for some weeks past been aware that there had been a difficulty in regard to Sir Felix Carbury, and had not on that account relaxed his suit. It might be possible to persuade the young lord that as the young lady had now tried to elope and tried in vain, his own chance might on the whole be rather improved than injured.

Mr Melmotte on that morning had many visitors, among whom one of the earliest and most unfortunate was Mr Longestaffe. At that time there had been arranged at the offices in Abchurch Lane a mode of double ingress and egress — a front stairs and a back stairs approach and exit, as is always necessary with very great men — in reference to which arrangement the honour and dignity attached to each is exactly contrary to that which generally prevails in the world; the front stairs being intended for everybody, and being both slow and uncertain, whereas the back stairs are quick and sure, and are used only for those who are favoured. Miles Grendall had the command of the stairs, and found that he had plenty to do in keeping people in their right courses. Mr Longestaffe reached Abchurch Lane before one — having altogether failed in getting a moment’s private conversation with the big man on that other Friday, when he had come later. He fell at once into Miles’s hands, and was ushered through the front stairs passage and into the front stairs waiting-room, with much external courtesy. Miles Grendall was very voluble. Did Mr Longestaffe want to see Mr Melmotte? Oh; — Mr Longestaffe wanted to see Mr Melmotte as soon as possible! Of course Mr Longestaffe should see Mr Melmotte. He, Miles, knew that Mr Melmotte was particularly desirous of seeing Mr Longestaffe. Mr Melmotte had mentioned Mr Longestaffe’s name twice during the last three days. Would Mr Longestaffe sit down for a few minutes? Had Mr Longestaffe seen the ‘Morning Breakfast Table’? Mr Melmotte undoubtedly was very much engaged. At this moment a deputation from the Canadian Government was with him; — and Sir Gregory Gribe was in the office waiting for a few words. But Miles thought that the Canadian Government would not be long — and as for Sir Gregory, perhaps his business might be postponed. Miles would do his very best to get an interview for Mr Longestaffe — more especially as Mr Melmotte was so very desirous himself of seeing his friend. It was astonishing that such a one as Miles Grendall should have learned his business so well and should have made himself so handy! We will leave Mr Longestaffe with the ‘Morning Breakfast Table’ in his hands, in the front waiting-room, merely notifying the fact that there he remained for something over two hours.

In the meantime both Mr Broune and Lord Nidderdale came to the office, and both were received without delay. Mr Broune was the first. Miles knew who he was, and made no attempt to seat him in the same room with Mr Longestaffe. ‘I’ll just send him a note,’ said Mr Broune, and he scrawled a few words at the office counter. ‘I’m commissioned to pay you some money on behalf of Miss Melmotte.’ Those were the words, and they at once procured him admission to the sanctum. The Canadian Deputation must have taken its leave, and Sir Gregory could hardly have as yet arrived. Lord Nidderdale, who had presented himself almost at the same moment with the Editor, was shown into a little private room which was, indeed, Miles Grendall’s own retreat. ‘What’s up with the Governor?’ asked the young lord.

‘Anything particular do you mean?’ said Miles. ‘There are always so many things up here.’

‘He has sent for me.’

‘Yes — you’ll go in directly. There’s that fellow who does the “Breakfast Table” in with him. I don’t know what he’s come about. You know what he has sent for you for?’

Lord Nidderdale answered this question by another. ‘I suppose all this about Miss Melmotte is true?’

‘She did go off yesterday morning,’ said Miles, in a whisper.

‘But Carbury wasn’t with her.’

‘Well, no; — I suppose not. He seems to have mulled it. He’s such a d —— brute, he’d be sure to go wrong whatever he had in hand.’

‘You don’t like him, of course, Miles. For that matter I’ve no reason to love him. He couldn’t have gone. He staggered out of the club yesterday morning at four o’clock as drunk as Cloe. He’d lost a pot of money, and had been kicking up a row about you for the last hour.’

‘Brute!’ exclaimed Miles, with honest indignation.

‘I dare say. But though he was able to make a row, I’m sure he couldn’t get himself down to Liverpool. And I saw all his things lying about the club hall late last night; — no end of portmanteaux and bags; just what a fellow would take to New York. By George! Fancy taking a girl to New York! It was plucky.’

‘It was all her doing,’ said Miles, who was of course intimate with Mr Melmotte’s whole establishment, and had had means therefore of hearing the true story.

‘What a fiasco!’ said the young lord. ‘I wonder what the old boy means to say to me about it.’ Then there was heard the clear tingle of a little silver bell, and Miles told Lord Nidderdale that his time had come.

Mr Broune had of late been very serviceable to Mr Melmotte, and Melmotte was correspondingly gracious. On seeing the Editor he immediately began to make a speech of thanks in respect of the support given by the ‘Breakfast Table’ to his candidature. But Mr Broune cut him short. ‘I never talk about the “Breakfast Table,”’ said he. ‘We endeavour to get along as right as we can, and the less said the soonest mended.’ Melmotte bowed. ‘I have come now about quite another matter, and perhaps, the less said the sooner mended about that also. Sir Felix Carbury on a late occasion received a sum of money in trust from your daughter. Circumstances have prevented its use in the intended manner, and, therefore, as Sir Felix’s friend, I have called to return the money to you.’ Mr Broune did not like calling himself the friend of Sir Felix, but he did even that for the lady who had been good enough to him not to marry him.

‘Oh, indeed,’ said Mr Melmotte, with a scowl on his face, which he would have repressed if he could.

‘No doubt you understand all about it.’

‘Yes; — I understand. D—— scoundrel!’

‘We won’t discuss that, Mr Melmotte. I’ve drawn a cheque myself payable to your order — to make the matter all straight. The sum was ￡250, I think.’ And Mr Broune put a cheque for that amount down upon the table.

‘I dare say it’s all right,’ said Mr Melmotte. ‘But, remember, I don’t think that this absolves him. He has been a scoundrel.’

‘At any rate he has paid back the money, which chance put into his hands, to the only person entitled to receive it on the young lady’s behalf. Good morning.’ Mr Melmotte did put out his hand in token of amity. Then Mr Broune departed and Melmotte tinkled his bell. As Nidderdale was shown in he crumpled up the cheque, and put it into his pocket. He was at once clever enough to perceive that any idea which he might have had of prosecuting Sir Felix must be abandoned. ‘Well, my Lord, and how are you?’ said he with his pleasantest smile. Nidderdale declared himself to be as fresh as paint. ‘You don’t look down in the mouth, my Lord.’

Then Lord Nidderdale — who no doubt felt that it behoved him to show a good face before his late intended father-in-law — sang the refrain of an old song, which it is trusted my readers may remember.

‘Cheer up, Sam;
Don’t let your spirits go down.
There’s many a girl that I know well,
Is waiting for you in the town.’

‘Ha, ha, ha,’ laughed Melmotte, ‘very good. I’ve no doubt there is — many a one. But you won’t let this stupid nonsense stand in your way with Marie.’

‘Upon my word, sir, I don’t know about that. Miss Melmotte has given the most convincing proof of her partiality for another gentleman, and of her indifference to me.’

‘A foolish baggage! A silly little romantic baggage! She’s been reading novels till she has learned to think she couldn’t settle down quietly till she had run off with somebody.’

‘She doesn’t see............