THE COMPLETE PALLISER NOVELS (All 6 Novels in One Edition). Anthony Trollope

Mr Vavasor has explained it all; but the fact is, he must have them this afternoon. He has got a heavy sum to put down on the nail about this here election, and if it ain’t down to-day, them on whom he has to depend will be all abroad.”

      “But, sir, the money will not be payable to-day. If I understand it, they are not cheques.”

      “No, miss, no; they are not cheques. But your name, miss, at fourteen days, is the same as ready money;—just the same.”

      She paused, and while she paused, he reached a pen for her from the writing-table, and then she signed the four bills as he held them before her. She was quick enough at doing this when she had once commenced the work. Her object, then, was that the man should be gone from the house before her father could meet him.

      These were the four bits of paper which George Vavasor tendered to Mr Scruby’s notice on the occasion which we have now in hand. In doing so, he made use of them after the manner of a grand capitalist, who knows that he may assume certain airs as he allows the odours of the sweetness of his wealth to drop from him.

      “You insisted on ready money, with your d–––– suspicions,” said he; “and there it is. You’re not afraid of fourteen days, I dare say.”

      “Fourteen days is neither here nor there,” said Mr Scruby. “We can let our payments stand over as long as that, without doing any harm. I’ll send one of my men down to Grimes, and tell him I can’t see him, till,—let me see,” and he looked at one of the bills, “till the 15th.”

      But this was not exactly what George Vavasor wanted. He was desirous that the bills should be immediately turned into money, so that the necessity of forcing payments from Alice, should due provision for the bills not be made, might fall into other hands than his.

      “We can wait till the 15th,” said Scruby, as he handed the bits of paper back to his customer.

      “You will want a thousand, you say?” said George.

      “A thousand to begin with. Certainly not less.”

      “Then you had better keep two of them.”

      “Well—no! I don’t see the use of that. You had better collect them through your own banker, and let me have a cheque on the 15th or 16th.”

      “How cursed suspicious you are, Scruby.”

      “No, I ain’t. I’m not a bit suspicious. I don’t deal in such articles; that’s all!”

      “What doubt can there be about such bills as those? Everybody knows that my cousin has a considerable fortune, altogether at her own disposal.”

      “The truth is, Mr Vavasor, that bills with ladies’ names on them,—ladies who are no way connected with business,—ain’t just the paper that people like.”

      “Nothing on earth can be surer.”

      “You take them into the City for discount, and see if the bankers don’t tell you the same. They may be done, of course, upon your name. I say nothing about that.”

      “I can explain to you the nature of the family arrangement, but I can’t do that to a stranger. However, I don’t mind.”

      “Of course not. The time is so short that it does not signify. Have them collected through your own bankers, and then, if it don’t suit you to call, send me a cheque for a thousand pounds when the time is up.” Then Mr Scruby turned to some papers on his right hand, as though the interview had been long enough. Vavasor looked at him angrily, opening his wound at him and cursing him inwardly. Mr Scruby went on with his paper, by no means regarding either the wound or the unspoken curses. Thereupon Vavasor got up and went away without any word of farewell.

      As he walked along Great Marlborough Street, and through those unalluring streets which surround the Soho district, and so on to the Strand and his own lodgings, he still continued to think of some wide scheme of revenge,—of some scheme in which Mr Scruby might be included. There had appeared something latterly in Mr Scruby’s manner to him, something of mingled impatience and familiarity, which made him feel that he had fallen in the attorney’s estimation. It was not that the lawyer thought him to be less honourable, or less clever, than he had before thought him; but that the man was like a rat, and knew a falling house by the instinct that was in him. So George Vavasor cursed Mr Scruby, and calculated some method of murdering him without detection.

      The reader is not to suppose that the Member for the Chelsea Districts had, in truth, resolved to gratify his revenge by murder,—by murdering any of those persons whom he hated so vigorously. He did not, himself, think it probable that he would become a murderer. But he received some secret satisfaction in allowing his mind to dwell upon the subject, and in making those calculations. He reflected that it would not do to take off Scruby and John Grey at the same time, as it would be known that he was connected with both of them; unless, indeed, he was to take off a third person at the same time,—a third person, as to the expediency of ending whose career he made his calculations quite as often as he did in regard to any of those persons whom he cursed so often. It need hardly be explained to the reader that this third person was the sitting Member for the Chelsea Districts.

      As he was himself in want of instant ready money Mr Scruby’s proposition that he should leave the four bills at his own bankers’, to be collected when they came to maturity, did not suit him. He doubted much, also, whether at the end of the fourteen days the money would be forthcoming. Alice would be driven to tell her father, in order that the money might be procured, and John Vavasor would probably succeed in putting impediments in the way of the payment. He must take the bills into the City, and do the best there that he could with them. He was too late for this to-day, and therefore he went to his lodgings, and then down to the House. In the House he sat all the night with his hat over his eyes, making those little calculations of which I have spoken.

      “You have heard the news; haven’t you?” said Mr Bott to him, whispering in his ear.

      “News; no. I haven’t heard any news.”

      “Finespun has resigned, and Palliser is at this moment with the Duke of St Bungay in the Lords’ library.”

      “They may both be at the bottom of the Lords’ fishpond, for what I care,” said Vavasor.

      “That’s nonsense, you know,” said Bott. “Still, you know Palliser is Chancellor of the Exchequer at this moment. What a lucky fellow you are to have such a chance come to you directly you get in. As soon as he takes his seat down there, of course we shall go up behind him.”

      “We shall have another election in a month’s time,” said George. “I’m safe enough,” said Bott. “It never hurts a man at elections to be closely connected with the Government.”

      George Vavasor was in the City by times the next morning, but he found that the City did not look with favourable eyes on his four bills. The City took them up, first horizontally, and then, with a twist of its hand, perpendicularly, and looked at them with distrustful eyes. The City repeated the name, Alice Vavasor, as though it were not esteemed a good name on Change. The City suggested that as the time was so short, the holder of the bills would be wise to hold them till he could collect the amount. It was very clear that the City suspected something wrong in the transaction. The City, by one of its mouths, asserted plainly that ladies’ bills never meant business. George Vavasor cursed the City, and made his calculation about murdering it. Might not a river of strychnine be turned on round the Exchange about luncheon time? Three of the bills he left at last with his own bankers for collection, and retained the fourth in his breast-pocket, intending on the morrow to descend with it into those lower depths of the money market which he had not as yet visited. Again, on the next day, he went to work and succeeded to some extent. Among those lower depths he found a capitalist who was willing to advance him two hundred pounds, keeping that fourth bill in his possession as security. The capitalist was to have forty pounds for the transaction, and George cursed him as he took his cheque. George Vavasor knew quite enough of the commercial world to enable him to understand that a man must be in a