Early next morning Pendennis’s shutters were opened by Morgan, who appeared as usual, with a face perfectly grave and respectful, bearing with him the old gentleman’s clothes, cans of water, and elaborate toilet requisites.

“It’s you, is it?” said the old fellow from his bed. “I shan’t take you back again, you understand.”

“I ave not the least wish to be took back agin, Major Pendennis,” Mr. Morgan said, with grave dignity, “nor to serve you nor hany man. But as I wish you to be comftable as long as you stay in my house, I came up to do what’s nessary.” And once more, and for the last time, Mr. James Morgan laid out the silver dressing-case, and strapped the shining razor.

These offices concluded, he addressed himself to the Major with an indescribable solemnity, and said: “Thinkin’ that you would most likely be in want of a respectable pusson, until you suited yourself, I spoke to a young man last night, who is ’ere.”

“Indeed,” said the warrior in the tent-bed.

“He ave lived in the fust famlies, and I can wouch for his respectability.”

“You are monstrous polite,” grinned the old Major. And the truth is, that after the occurrences of the previous evening, Morgan had gone out to his own Club at the Wheel of Fortune, and there finding Frosch, a courier and valet just returned from a foreign tour with young Lord Cubley, and for the present disposable, had represented to Mr. Frosch, that he, Morgan, had “a devil of a blow hup with his own Gov’nor, and was goin’ to retire from the business haltogether, and that if Frosch wanted a tempory job, he might probbly have it by applying in Bury Street.”

“You are very polite,” said the Major, “and your recommendation, I am sure, will have every weight.”

Morgan blushed; he felt his master was ‘a-chaffin’ of him.’ “The man have awaited on you before, sir,” he said with great dignity. “Lord De la Pole, sir, gave him to his nephew young Lord Cubley, and he have been with him on his foring tour, and not wishing to go to Fitzurse Castle, which Frosch’s chest is delicate, and he cannot bear the cold in Scotland, he is free to serve you or not, as you choose.”

“I repeat, sir, that you are exceedingly polite,” said the Major. Come in, Frosch — you will do very well — Mr. Morgan, will you have the great kindness to ——”

“I shall show him what is nessary, sir, and what is customry for you to wish to ave done. Will you please to take breakfast ’ere or at the Club, Major Pendennis?”

“With your kind permission, I will breakfast here, and afterwards we will make our little arrangements.”

“If you please, sir.”

“Will you now oblige me by leaving the room?”

Morgan withdrew; the excessive politeness of his ex-employer made him almost as angry as the Major’s bitterest words. And whilst the old gentleman is making his mysterious toilet, we will also modestly retire.

After breakfast, Major Pendennis and his new aide-de-camp occupied themselves in preparing for their departure. The establishment of the old bachelor was not very complicated. He encumbered himself with no useless wardrobe. A bible (his mother’s), a road book, Pen’s novel (calf elegant), and the Duke of Wellington’s Despatches, with a few prints, maps, and portraits of that illustrious general, and of various sovereigns and consorts of this country, and of the General under whom Major Pendennis had served in India, formed his literary and artistical collection: he was always ready to march at a few hours’ notice, and the cases in which he had brought his property into his lodgings some fifteen years before, were still in the lofts amply sufficient to receive all his goods. These, the young woman who did the work of the house, and who was known by the name of Betty to her mistress, and of “Slavey” to Mr. Morgan, brought down from their resting-place, and obediently dusted and cleaned under the eyes of the terrible Morgan. His demeanour was guarded and solemn; he had spoken no word as yet to Mrs. Brixham respecting his threats of the past night, but he looked as if he would execute them, and the poor widow tremblingly awaited her fate.

Old Pendennis, armed with his cane, superintended the package of his goods and chattels, under the hands of Mr. Frosch, and the Slavey burned such of his papers as he did not care to keep; flung open doors and closets until they were all empty; and now all boxes and chests were closed, except his desk, which was ready to receive the final accounts of Mr. Morgan.

That individual now made his appearance, and brought his books. “As I wish to speak to you in privick, peraps you will ave the kindness to request Frosch to step downstairs,” he said, on entering.

“Bring a couple of cabs, Frosch, if you please — and wait downstairs until I ring for you,” said the Major. Morgan saw Frosch downstairs, watched him go along the street upon his errand, and produced his books and accounts, which were simple and very easily settled.

“And now, sir,” said he, having pocketed the cheque which his ex-employer gave him, and signed his name to his book with a flourish, “and now that accounts is closed between us, sir,” he said, “I porpose to speak to you as one man to another”—(Morgan liked the sound of his own voice; and, as an individual, indulged in public speaking whenever he could get an opportunity, at the Club, or the housekeeper’s room)—“and I must tell you, that I’m in possession of certing infamation.”

“And may I inquire of what nature, pray?” asked the Major.

“It’s valuble information, Major Pendennis, as you know very well. I know of a marriage as is no marriage — of a honourable Baronet as is no more married than I am; and which his wife is married to somebody else, as you know too, sir.”

Pendennis at once understood all. “Ha! this accounts for your behaviour. You have been listening at the door, sir, I suppose,” said the Major, looking very haughty; “I forgot to look at the keyhole when I went to that public-house, or I might have suspected what sort of a person was behind it.”

“I may have my schemes as you may have yours, I suppose,” answered Morgan. “I may get my information, and I may act on that information, and I may find that information valuble as anybody else may. A poor servant may have a bit of luck as well as a gentleman, mayn’t he? Don’t you be putting on your aughty looks, sir, and comin’ the aristocrat over me. That’s all gammon with me. I’m an Englishman, I am, and as good as you.”

“To what the devil does this tend, sir? and how does the secret which you have surprised concern me, I should like to know?” asked Major Pendennis, with great majesty.

“How does it concern me, indeed! how grand we are! How does it concern my nephew, I wonder? How does it concern my nephew’s seat in Parlyment: and to subornation of bigamy? How does it concern that? What, are you to be the only man to have a secret, and to trade on it? Why shouldn’t I go halves, Major Pendennis? I’ve found it out too. Look here! I ain’t goin’ to be unreasonable with you. Make it worth my while, and I’ll keep the thing close. Let Mr. Arthur take his seat, and his rich wife, if you like; I don’t want to marry her. But I will have my share, as sure as my name’s James Morgan. And if I don’t ——”

“And if you don’t, sir — what?” Pendennis asked.

“If I don’t, I split, and tell all. I smash Clavering, and have him and his wife up for bigamy — so help me, I will! I smash young Hopeful’s marriage, and I show up you and him as makin’ use of this secret, in order to squeeze a seat in Parlyment out of Sir Francis, and a fortune out of his wife.”

“Mr. Pendennis knows no more of this business than the babe unborn, sir,” cried the Major, aghast. “No more than Lady Clavering, than Miss Amory does.”

“Tell that to the marines, Major,” replied the valet; “that cock won’t fight with me.”

“Do you doubt my word, you villain?”

“No bad language. I don’t care one twopence’a’p’ny whether your word’s true or not. I tell you, I intend this to be a nice little annuity to me, Major: for I have every one of you; and I ain’t such a fool as to let you go. I should say that you might make it five hundred a year to me among you, easy. Pay me down the first quarter now and I’m as mum as a mouse. Just give a note for one twenty-five. There’s your cheque-book on your desk.”

“And there’s this too, you villain,” cried the old gentleman. In the desk to which the valet pointed was a little double-barrelled pistol, which had belonged to Pendennis’s old patron; the Indian commander-inchief, and which had accompanied him in many a campaign. “One more word, you scoundrel and I’ll shoot you, like a mad dog. Stop — by Jove, I’ll do it now. You’ll assault me, will you? You’ll strike at an old man, will you, you lying coward? Kneel down and say your prayers, sir, for by the Lord you shall die.”

The Major’s face glared with rage at his adversary, who looked terrified before him for a moment, and at the next, with a shriek of “Murder!” sprang towards the open window, under which a policeman happened to be on his beat. “Murder! Police!” bellowed Mr. Morgan.

To his surprise, Major Pendennis wheeled away the table and walked to the other window, which was also open. He beckoned the policeman. “Come up. here, policeman,” he said, and then went and placed himself against the door.

“You miserable sneak,” he said to Morgan; “the pistol hasn’t been loaded these fifteen years, as you would have known very well, if you had not been such a coward. That policeman is coming, and I will have him up, and have your trunks searched; I have reason to believe that you are a thief, sir. I know you are. I’ll swear to the things.”

“You gave ’em to me — you gave ’em to me!” cried Morgan.

The Major laughed. “We’ll see,” he said; and the guilty valet remembered some fine lawn-fronted shirts — a certain gold-headed cane — an opera-glass, which he had forgotten to bring down, and of which............