The Way We Live Now, Anthony Trollope [good story books to read .txt] 📗

of great doubt since the day of the dinner party. He was aware of the ruin that would be incurred by a marriage with Melmotte’s daughter, if the things which had been said of Melmotte should be proved to be true. But he knew also that if his son should now recede, there must be an end of the match altogether;⁠—and he did not believe the rumours. He was fully determined that the money should be paid down before the marriage was celebrated; but if his son were to secede now, of course no money would be forthcoming. He was prepared to recommend his son to go on with the affair still a little longer. “Old Cure tells me he doesn’t believe a word of it,” said the father. Cure was the family lawyer of the Marquises of Auld Reekie.

“There’s some hitch about Dolly Longestaffe’s money, sir,” said the son.

“What’s that to us if he has our money ready? I suppose it isn’t always easy even for a man like that to get a couple of hundred thousand together. I know I’ve never found it easy to get a thousand. If he has borrowed a trifle from Longestaffe to make up the girl’s money, I shan’t complain. You stand to your guns. There’s no harm done till the parson has said the word.”

“You couldn’t let me have a couple of hundred;⁠—could you, sir?” suggested the son.

“No, I couldn’t,” replied the father with a very determined aspect.

“I’m awfully hard up.”

“So am I.” Then the old man toddled into his own chamber, and after sitting there ten minutes went away home.

Lord Nidderdale also got quickly through his legislative duties and went to the Beargarden. There he found Grasslough and Miles Grendall dining together, and seated himself at the next table. They were full of news. “You’ve heard it, I suppose,” said Miles in an awful whisper.

“Heard what?”

“I believe he doesn’t know!” said Lord Grasslough. “By Jove, Nidderdale, you’re in a mess like some others.”

“What’s up now?”

“Only fancy that they shouldn’t have known down at the House! Vossner has bolted!”

“Bolted!” exclaimed Nidderdale, dropping the spoon with which he was just going to eat his soup.

“Bolted,” repeated Grasslough. Lord Nidderdale looked round the room and became aware of the awful expression of dismay which hung upon the features of all the dining members. “Bolted by George! He has sold all our acceptances to a fellow in Great Marlbro’ that’s called ‘Flatfleece.’ ”

“I know him,” said Nidderdale shaking his head.

“I should think so,” said Miles ruefully.

“A bottle of champagne!” said Nidderdale, appealing to the waiter in almost a humble voice, feeling that he wanted sustenance in this new trouble that had befallen him. The waiter, beaten almost to the ground by an awful sense of the condition of the club, whispered to him the terrible announcement that there was not a bottle of champagne in the house. “Good G⁠⸺,” exclaimed the unfortunate nobleman. Miles Grendall shook his head. Grasslough shook his head.

“It’s true,” said another young lord from the table on the other side. Then the waiter, still speaking with suppressed and melancholy voice, suggested that there was some port left. It was now the middle of July.

“Brandy?” suggested Nidderdale. There had been a few bottles of brandy, but they had been already consumed. “Send out and get some brandy,” said Nidderdale with rapid impetuosity. But the club was so reduced in circumstances that he was obliged to take silver out of his pocket before he could get even such humble comfort as he now demanded.

Then Lord Grasslough told the whole story as far as it was known. Herr Vossner had not been seen since nine o’clock on the preceding evening. The head waiter had known for some weeks that heavy bills were due. It was supposed that three or four thousand pounds were owing to tradesmen, who now professed that the credit had been given, not to Herr Vossner but to the club. And the numerous acceptances for large sums which the accommodating purveyor held from many of the members had all been sold to Mr. Flatfleece. Mr. Flatfleece had spent a considerable portion of the day at the club, and it was now suggested that he and Herr Vossner were in partnership. At this moment Dolly Longestaffe came in. Dolly had been at the club before and had heard the story⁠—but had gone at once to another club for his dinner when he found that there was not even a bottle of wine to be had. “Here’s a go,” said Dolly. “One thing atop of another! There’ll be nothing left for anybody soon. Is that brandy you’re drinking, Nidderdale? There was none here when I left.”

“Had to send round the corner for it, to the public.”

“We shall be sending round the corner for a good many things now. Does anybody know anything of that fellow Melmotte?”

“He’s down in the House, as big as life,” said Nidderdale. “He’s all right I think.”

“I wish he’d pay me my money then. That fellow Flatfleece was here, and he showed me notes of mine for about £1,500! I write such a beastly hand that I never know whether I’ve written it or not. But, by George, a fellow can’t eat and drink £1,500 in less than six months!”

“There’s no knowing what you can do, Dolly,” said Lord Grasslough.

“He’s paid some of your card money, perhaps,” said Nidderdale.

“I don’t think he ever did. Carbury had a lot of my I.O.U.s while that was going on, but I got the money for that from old Melmotte. How is a fellow to know? If any fellow writes D. Longestaffe, am I obliged to pay it? Everybody is writing my name! How is any fellow to stand that kind of thing? Do you think Melmotte’s all right?” Nidderdale said that he did think so. “I wish he wouldn’t go and write my name then. That’s a sort of thing that a man should be left to do for himself. I suppose Vossner