Mr Tombe had gained nothing for the cause by his crafty silence. George Vavasor felt perfectly certain, as he walked out from the little street which runs at the back of Doctors’ Commons, that the money which he had been using had come, in some shape, through the hands of John Grey. He did not care much to calculate whether the payments had been made from the personal funds of his rival, or whether that rival had been employed to dispense Alice’s fortune. Under either view of the case his position was sufficiently bitter. The truth never for a moment occurred to him. He never dreamed that there might be a conspiracy in the matter, of which Alice was as ignorant as he himself had been. He never reflected that his uncle John, together with John, the lover, whom he so hated, might be the conspirators. To him it seemed to be certain that Alice and Mr Grey were in league — and if they were in league, what must he think of Alice, and of her engagement with himself!
There are men who rarely think well of women — who hardly think well of any woman. They put their mothers and sisters into the background — as though they belonged to some sex or race apart — and then declare to themselves and to their friends that all women are false — that no woman can be trusted unless her ugliness protect her; and that every woman may be attacked as fairly as may game in a cover, or deer on a mountain. What man does not know men who have so thought? I cannot say that such had been Vavasor’s creed — not entirely such. There had been periods of his life when he had believed implicitly in his cousin Alice — but then there had been other moments in which he had ridiculed himself for his Quixotism in believing in any woman. And as he had grown older the moments of his Quixotism had become more rare. There would have been no such Quixotism left with him now, had not the various circumstances which I have attempted to describe, filled him, during the last twelve months, with a renewed desire to marry his cousin. Every man tries to believe in the honesty of his future wife; and, therefore, Vavasor had tried, and had, in his way, believed. He had flattered himself, too, that Alice’s heart had, in truth, been more prone to him than to that other suitor. Grey, as he thought, had been accepted by her cold prudence; but he thought, also, that she had found her prudence to be too cold, and had therefore returned where she had truly loved. Vavasor, though he did not love much himself, was willing enough to be the object of love.
This idea of his, however, had been greatly shaken by Alice’s treatment of himself personally; but still he had not, hitherto, believed that she was false to him. Now, what could he believe of her? What was there within the compass of such a one to believe? As he walked out into St Paul’s Churchyard he called her by every name which is most offensive to a woman’s ears. He hated her at this moment with even a more bitter hatred than that which he felt towards John Grey. She must have deceived him with unparalleled hypocrisy, and lied to him and to his sister Kate as hardly any woman had ever lied before. Or could it be that Kate, also, was lying to him? If so, Kate also should be included in the punishment.
But why should they have conspired to feed him with these moneys? There had been no deceit, at any rate, in reference to the pounds sterling which Scruby had already swallowed. They had been supplied, whatever had been the motives of the suppliers; and he had no doubt that more would be supplied if he would only keep himself quiet. He was still walking westward as he thought of this, down Ludgate Hill, on his direct line towards Suffolk Street; and he tried to persuade himself that it would be well that he should hide his wrath till after provision should have been made for this other election. They were his enemies — Alice and Mr Grey — and why should he keep any terms with his enemies? It was still a trouble to him to think that he should have been in any way beholden to John Grey; but the terrible thing had been done; the evil had occurred. What would he gain by staying his hand now? Still, however, he walked on quickly along Fleet Street, and along the Strand, and was already crossing under the Picture Galleries towards Pall Mall East before he had definitely decided what steps he would take on this very day. Exactly at the corner of Suffolk Street he met John Grey.
“Mr Grey,” he said, stopping himself suddenly, “I was this moment going to call on you at your lodgings.”
“At my lodgings, were you? Shall I return with you?”
“If you please,” said Vavasor, leading the way up Suffolk Street. There had been no other greeting than this between them. Mr Grey himself, though a man very courteous in his general demeanour, would probably have passed Vavasor in the street with no more than the barest salutation. Situated as they were towards each other there could hardly be any show of friendship between them; but when Vavasor had spoken to him, he had dressed his face in that guise of civility which men always use who do not intend to be offensive — but Vavasor dressed his as men dress theirs who do mean to be offensive; and Mr Grey had thoroughly appreciated the dressing.
“If you will allow me, I have the key,” said Grey. Then they both entered the house, and Vavasor followed his host up stairs. Mr Grey, as he went up, felt almost angry with himself in having admitted his enemy into his lodgings. He was sure that no good could come of it, and remembered, when it was too late, that he might easily have saved himself from giving the invitation while he was still in the street. There they were, however, together in the sitting-room, and Grey had nothing to do but to listen. “Will you take a chair, Mr Vavasor?” he said. “No, said Vavasor; I will stand up.” And he stood up, holding his hat behind his back with his left hand, with his right leg forward, and the thumb of his right hand in his waistcoat-pocket. He looked full into Grey’s face, and Grey looked full into his; and as he looked the great cicatrice seemed to open itself and to become purple with fresh blood stains. “I have come here from Mr Tombe’s office in the City,” said Vavasor, “to ask you of what nature has been the interference which you have taken in my money matters?”
This was a question which Mr Grey could not answer very quickly. In the first place it was altogether unexpected; in the next place he did not know what Mr Tombe had told, and what he had not told; and then, before he replied, he must think how much of the truth he was bound to tell in answer to a question so put to him.
“Do you say that you have come from Mr Tombe?” he asked.
“I think you heard me say so. I have come here direct from Mr Tombe’s chambers. He is your lawyer, I believe?”
“He is so.”
“And I have come from him to ask you what interference you have lately taken in my money matters. When you have answered that, I shall have other questions to ask you.”
“But, Mr Vavasor, has it occurred to you that I may not be disposed to answer questions so asked?”
“It has not occurred to me to think that you will prevaricate. If there has been no such interference, I will ask your pardon, and go away; but if there has been such interference on your part, I have a right to demand that you shall explain to me its nature.”
Grey had now made up his mind that it would be better that he should tell the whole story — better not only for himself, but for all the Vavasors, including this angry man himself. The angry man evidently knew something, and it would be better that he should know the truth. “There has been such interference, Mr Vavasor, if you choose to call it so. Money, to the extent of two thousand pounds, I think, has by my directions been paid to your credit by Mr Tombe.”
“Well,” said Vavasor, taking his right hand away from his waistcoat, and tapping the round table with his fingers impatiently.
“I hardly know how to explain all the circumstances under which this has been done.”
“I dare say not; but, nevertheless, you must explain them.”
Grey was a man tranquil in temperament, very little prone to quarrelling, with perhaps an exaggerated idea of the evil results of a row — a man who would take infinite trouble to avoid any such scene as that which now seemed to be imminent; but he was a man whose courage was quite as high as that of his opponent. To bully or to be bullied were alike contrary to his nature. It was clear enough now that Vavasor intended to bully him, and he made up his mind at once that if the quarrel were forced upon him it should find him ready to take his own part. “My difficulty in explaining it comes from consideration for you,” he said.
“Then I beg that your difficulty will cease, and that you will have no consideration for me. We are so circumstanced towards each other that any consideration must be humbug and nonsense. At any rate, I intend to have none for you. Now, let me know why you have meddled with my matters.”
“I think I might, perhaps, better refer you to your uncle.”
“No, sir; Mr Tombe is not my uncle’s lawyer. My uncle never heard his name, unless he heard of it from you.”
“But it was by agreement with your uncle that I commissioned Mr Tombe to raise for you the money you were desirous of borrowing from your cousin. We thought it better that her fortune should not be for the moment disturbed.”
“But what had you to do with it? Why should you have done it? In the first place, I don’t believe your story; it is altogether improbable. But why should he come to you of all men to raise money on his daughter’s behalf?”
“Unless you can behave yourself with more discretion, Mr Vavasor, you must leave the room,” said Mr Grey. Then, as Vavasor simply sneered at him, but spoke nothing, he went on. “It was I who suggested to your uncle that this arrangement should be made. I did not wish to see Miss Vavasor’s fortune squandered.”
“And what was her fortune to you, sir? Are you aware that she is engaged to me as my wife? I ask you,‘sir, whether you are aware that Miss Vavasor is to be my wife?”
“I must altogether decline to discuss with you Miss Vavasor’s present or future position.”
“By heavens, then, you shall hear me discuss it! She was engaged to you, and she has given you your dismissal. If you had understood anything of the conduct which is usual among gentlemen, or if you had had any particle of pride in you, sir, you would have left her and never mentioned her name again. I now find you meddling with her money matters, so as to get a hold upon her fortune.”
“I have no hold upon her fortune.”
“Yes, sir, you have. You do not advance two thousand pounds without knowing that you have security. She has rejected you; and in order that you may be revenged, or that you may have some further hold upon her — that she may be in some sort within your power, you have contrived this rascally pettifogging way of obtaining power over her income. The money shall be repaid at once, with any interest that can be due; and if I find you interfering again, I will expose you.”
“Mr Vavasor,” said Grey very slowly, in a low tone of voice, but with something in his eye which would have told any bystander that he was much in earnest, “you have used words in your anger which I cannot allow to pass. You must recall them.”
“What were the words? I said that you were a pettifogging rascal. I now repeat them.” As he spoke he put on his hat, so as to leave both his hands ready for action if action should be required.
Grey was much the larger man and............