One thing Fred Bingham quite settled in his mind as he walked slowly in the direction of Hans Place, and that was that he would on no account tell his father of the mistake which had occurred. Mr. Bingham might be a sharp practitioner, but Fred felt that even to shield him it was possible that his father might refuse to have anything to do with this scheme of laying the blame upon Frank Maynard's shoulders. Even should he consent to conceal the truth, the hold which the knowledge of such a secret as this would give him, would be most unpleasant. It was quite possible that he and his father might not always get on well together, for the latter, Fred thought, was hardly sharp enough for the times, and might become a drag. No, certainly, Mr. Bingham must not be told. [207]
“Well, Fred, what news?” Mr. Bingham asked, as Fred went into his study.
“Better than I could have expected,” Fred said, cheerfully. “The old gentleman, of course, did the savage, but I was extremely penitent, and made an impression on him. Of course he gave me a long lecture upon the heinousness of the offence, but we parted pretty good friends, and I fancy it will all come right in the long run.”
“Perhaps he may seem friends, Fred, but when he dies you may find he has left every penny to Frank.”
“Perhaps so,” Fred said, in a thoughtful voice. “I dare say he would if he were to die to-morrow; but now I have once made my footing good, I think I shall be able to work myself into my old place in time. From some hints he threw out, too, I believe, he is not satisfied with Frank. He's angry, I fancy, because Frank did not marry Alice Heathcote. At any rate, there's a coolness, which makes him the less disposed to be severe with me. No, I think it will all come right in the end.”
There was a silence for a minute or two, Mr. Bingham being greatly surprised at Fred's easy [208] escape, for he remembered how vindictive and unforgiving Captain Bradshaw had been in his wife's case. Presently Fred spoke again.
“Don't you think something could be done to stop that madman's mouth? He has done mischief enough already; but if he is to go about as he threatened, telling this story to every one, it will be a horrible nuisance.”
Mr. Bingham thought for a time, and then shook his head.
“He is very much in earnest, Fred. He meant every word he said. There is no offering him money—it would make him worse.”
Fred thought for a time.
“One could not begin by offering money; still, he's poor, and money must be an object to him. Look here, father, you must see what you can do. You go round to him in the morning, and try and talk him over. Put to him the misery he has caused me in my own family; you can pitch it in strong, you know, about the old lady. Point out that I am punished besides by losing any hope of my uncle's money. Then talk about my wife; say she's very delicate, and that if this comes to her ears, the consequence will be most serious. [209] Ask him if he wishes to destroy the happiness of an innocent creature? Beg him to be content with punishing me, as he has already done. Then, if he gives way at all, offer him a thousand pounds—I would willingly pay that—to leave at once, and go right away, and live quietly somewhere else, where the business will not be known.”
“I am afraid, Fred, it will be of no use. He's been hit too hard.”
“Oh, nonsense, father! You can do it if you take it in hand. Pitch it in strong, you know, about my wife. Tell him that for him to destroy the happiness of an innocent woman, would be as bad as what I have done. Say how devilishly sorry I am. You know the line to take.”
“It's a very unpleasant business, Fred, but if you think any good can come of it, I will try.”
“Thank you,” Fred said, “and be sure to insist upon his leaving his place at once. I don't want to have any risk of his meeting my uncle again, and stirring him up afresh.”
The next morning, accordingly, Mr. Bingham started for New Street. Upon arriving at the shop, he was astonished at finding it closed, and [210] a bill upon the shutter—“This house and shop to be let or sold, enquire of Mr. Thompson, House Agent, Brompton Row.” In spite of this notice, he rang at the bell. There was no answer; and a neighbour, seeing Mr. Bingham standing at the door, came out and volunteered the information that Stephen Walker was gone.
“He went off yesterday at twelve o'clock, with his boxes, in a cab.”
“Am I likely to be able to find out where he has gone to?” Mr. Bingham asked; “I owe him an account for newspapers.”
“I can't say, sir; if anyone knows, it's Mrs. Holl. She's an old friend of his, and has been doing for him lately; she lives in Moor Street, No. 18.”
Mr. Bingham went off to Moor Street. He knocked at the door. Mrs. Holl came to it. On seeing a gentleman, she curtseyed.
“Do you want me, sir? I can't ask you to walk in, for I've a boy here down with fever.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Bingham said; “I called this morning to pay my newsagent, Mr. Walker, a little account I owe him, and I find his place [211] shut up. I was directed to you as the most likely person to tell me of his whereabouts.”
“I know no more, sir, than a new-born child. I only hope he hasn't done anything with his-self. I saw him the day afore yesterday, when he came back after burying his daughter; and when I went yesterday morning he was out. When I went again in the afternoon, I found the bill up, and heard he had gone off with his things. I went to the house people, but they could tell me nothing about it. They said that Mr. Walker, who they knew before, from his having bought the house through them, had come to them, all of a sudden, at nine o'clock. He had told them to let the house at once, or to sell it if they got an offer, and pay the amount into a bank for him. He seemed, they said, a good deal flurried, and in a great hurry. They are to send a cart to-day for his furniture, and are to send it to a sale-room. They are to give notice to his tenants, in the upper part of the house, to leave. The news was all so sudden, it has put me quite in a fluster, like; but I don't think he can be going to do any harm to himself, else he [212] wouldn't have taken his boxes. Do you think so, sir?”
“No, I should think not, Mrs. Holl. He is probably leaving in this sudden and secret way, because he does not like to say good-bye to his friends, and intends to go to some fresh place where no one will know him, or this sad story I have heard of. Good morning, I am much obliged to you for your information.”
So saying, Mr. Bingham went back to his son, expecting that the latter would consider this news to be bad. For it was probable that Stephen Walker had left to carry out his plan of vengeance, and was not improbably gone down to the neighbourhood of some of the works upon which they were engaged. To Mr. Bingham's surprise, Fred was excessively pleased.
“So that he's gone, I am contented. Down in the country I don't care a snap what people may say; but as long as he stayed here, there was always a chance of his meeting my uncle again, or of my uncle going to see him. You see, father, I was obliged to put things in the best light possible, and I should not at all like to have Walker referred to again.”
[213]
“Ah, I see, Fred. I thought you must have made rather a strong case for yourself with the old man, or he would never have come round so easi............