There was not much to enliven the house at Folking during these days. Caldigate would pass much of his time walking about the place, applying his mind as well as he could to the farm, and holding up his head among the tenants, with whom he was very popular. He had begun his reign over them with hands not only full but free. He had drained, and roofed, and put up gates, and repaired roads, and shown himself to be an active man, anxious to do good. And now in his trouble they were very true to him. But their sympathy could not ease the burden at his heart. Though by his words and deeds among them he seemed to occupy himself fully, there was a certain amount of pretence in every effort that he made. He was always affecting a courage in which he felt himself to be deficient. Every smile was false. Every brave word spoken was an attempt at deceit. When alone in his walks,— and he was mostly alone,— his mind would fix itself on his great trouble, and on the crushing sorrow which might only too probably fall upon that loved one whom he had called his wife. Oh, with what regret now did he think of the good advice which the captain had given him on board the Goldfinder, and of the sententious, timid wisdom of Mrs. Callender! Had she,— his Hester, ever uttered to him one word of reproach,— had she ever shuddered in his sight when he had acknowledged that the now odious woman had in that distant land been in his own hearing called by his own name,— it would have been almost better. Her absolute faith added a sting to his sufferings.
Then, as he walked alone about the estate, he would endeavour to think whether there might not yet be some mode of escape,— whether something might not be done to prevent his having to stand in the dock and abide the uncertain verdict of a jury With Mr. Seely he was discontented. Mr. Seely seemed to be opposed to any great effort,— would simply trust to the chance of snatching little advantages in the Court. He had money at command, if fifty thousand pounds,— if double that sum,— would have freed him from this trouble, he thought that he could have raised it, and was sure that he would willingly pay it. Twenty thousand pounds two months since, when Crinkett appeared at the christening would have sent these people away. The same sum, no doubt, would send them away now. But then the arrangement might have been possible. But now,— how was it now? Could it still be done? Then the whole thing might have been hidden, buried in darkness. Now it was already in the mouths of all men. But still, if these witnesses were made to disappear this woman herself by whom the charge was made would take herself away — then the trial must be abandoned. There would be a whispering of evil,— or, too probably, the saying of evil without whispering. A terrible injury would have been inflicted upon her and his boy;— but the injury would be less than that which he now feared.
And there was present to him through all this a feeling that the money ought to be paid independently of the accusation brought against him. Had he known at first all that he knew now,— how he had taken their all from these people, and how they had failed absolutely in the last great venture they had made,— he would certainly have shared their loss with them. He would have done all that Crinkett had suggested to him when he and Crinkett were walking along the dike. Crinkett had said that on receiving twenty thousand pounds he would have gone back to Australia, and would have taken a wife with him! That offer had been quite intelligible, and if carried out would have put an end to all trouble. But he had mismanaged that interview. He had been too proud, too desirous not to seem to buy off a threatening enemy. Now, as the trouble pressed itself more closely upon him,— upon him and his Hester,— he would so willingly buy off his enemy if it were possible! ‘They ought to have the money,’ he said to himself; ‘if only I could contrive that it should be paid to them.’
One day as he was entering the house by a side door, Darvell the gardener told him that there was a gentleman waiting to see him. The gentleman was very anxious to see him, and had begged to be allowed to sit down. Darvell, when asked whether the gentleman was a gentleman, expressed an affirmative opinion. He had been driven over from Cambridge in a hired gig, which was now standing in the yard, and was dressed, as Darvell expressed it, ‘quite accordingly and genteel.’ So Caldigate passed into the house and found the man seated in the dining-room.
‘Perhaps you will step into my study?’ said Caldigate Thus the two men were seated together in the little room which Caldigate used for his own purposes.
Caldigate, as he looked at the man, distrusted his gardener’s judgment. The coat and hat and gloves, even the whiskers and head of hair, might have belonged to a gentleman; but not, as he thought, the mouth or the eyes or the hands. And when the man began to speak there was a mixture of assurance and intended complaisance, an effected familiarity and an attempt at ease, which made the master of the house quite sure that his guest was not all that Darvell had represented. The man soon told his story. His name was Bollum, Richard Bollum, and he had connections with Australia;— was largely concerned in Australian gold-mines. When Caldigate heard this, he looked round involuntarily to see whether the door was closed. ‘We’re tiled, of course,‘said Bollum. Caldigate with a frown nodded his head, and Bollum went on. He hadn’t come there, he said, to speak of some recent troubles of which he had heard. He wasn’t the man to shove his nose into other people’s matters. It was nothing to him who was married to whom. Caldigate shivered, but sat and listened in silence. But Mr. Bollum had had dealings,— many dealings,— with Timothy Crinkett. Indeed he was ready to say that Timothy Crinkett was his uncle. He was not particularly proud of his uncle, but nevertheless Timothy Crinkett was his uncle. Didn’t Mr. Caldigate think that something ought to be done for Timothy Crinkett?
‘Yes, I do,’ said Caldigate, finding himself compelled to say something at the moment, and feeling that he could say so much with positive truth.
Then Bollum continued his story, showing that he knew all the circumstances of Polyeuka. ‘It was hard on them, wasn’t it, Mr. Caldigate?’
‘I think it was.’
‘Every rap they had among them, Mr. Caldigate! You left them as bare as the palm of my hand!’
‘It was not my doing. I simply made him an offer, which every one at the time believed to be liberal.’
‘Just so. We grants all that. But still you got all their money;— old pals of yours too, as they say out there.’
‘It is a matter of most intense regret to me. As soon as I knew the circumstances, Mr. Bollum, I should have been most happy to have divided the loss with them —’
‘That’s it,— that’s it. That’s what’d be right between man and man,’ said Mr. Bollum, inter-rupting him.
‘Had no other subject been introduced.’
‘I know nothing about other subjects. I haven’t come here to meddle with other subjects. I’m, as it were, a partner of Crinkett’s. Any way, I am acting as his agent. I’m quite above board, Mr. Caldigate, and in what I say I mean to stick to my own business and not go beyond it. Twenty thousand pounds is what we ask,— so that we and you may share the loss. You agree to that?’
‘I should have agreed to it two months since,’ said Caldigate, fearing that he might be caught in a trap,— anxious to do nothing mean, unfair, or contrary to the law,— craving in his heart after the bold, upright conduct of a thoroughly honourable English gentleman, and yet desirous also to use, if it might be used, the instrumentality of this man.
‘And why not now? You see,’ said Bollum, becoming a little more confidential, ‘how difficult it is for me to speak. Things ain’t altered. You’ve got the money. They’ve lost the money. There isn’t any ill-will, Mr. Caldigate. As for Crinkett, he’s a rough diamond, of course. What am I to say about the lady?’
‘I don’t see that you need say anything.’
‘That’s just it. Of course she’s one of them. That’s all. If there is to be money, she’ll have her share. He’s an old fool, and perhaps they’ll make a match of it.’ As he said this he winked. ‘At any rate they’ll be off to Australia together. And what I propose is this, Mr. Caldigate —’ Then he paused.
‘What do you propose?’
‘Make the money payable in bills to their joint order at Sydney. They don’t want to be wasting any more time here. They’ll start at once. This is the 12th April, isn’t it? Tuesday the 12th?’ Caldigate assented. ‘The old Goldfinder leaves Plymouth this day week.’ From this he was sure that Bollum had heard all the story from Euphemia Smith herself, or he would not have talked of the ‘old’ Goldfinder. ‘Let them have the bills handed to them on board, and they’ll go. Let me have the duplicates here. You can remit the money by July to your agents,— to take up the bills when due. Just let me be with you when the order is given to your banker in Lond............