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

come in with a sepulchral voice. The door was opened, and Mr. Melmotte appeared.

Now Mr. Melmotte’s presence certainly had not been expected. It was known that it was his habit to be in the City at this hour. It was known also that he was well aware that this meeting was to be held in this room at this special hour⁠—and he might well have surmised with what view. There was now declared hostility between both the Longestaffes and Mr. Melmotte, and it certainly was supposed by all the gentlemen concerned that he would not have put himself out of the way to meet them on this occasion. “Gentlemen,” he said, “perhaps you think that I am intruding at the present moment.” No one said that he did not think so. The elder Longestaffe simply bowed very coldly. Mr. Bideawhile stood upright and thrust his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets. Dolly, who at first forgot to take his hat off, whistled a bar, and then turned a pirouette on his heel. That was his mode of expressing his thorough surprise at the appearance of his debtor. “I fear that you do think I am intruding,” said Melmotte, “but I trust that what I have to say will be held to excuse me. I see, sir,” he said, turning to Mr. Longestaffe, and glancing at the still open drawer, “that you have been examining your desk. I hope that you will be more careful in locking it than you were when you left it before.”

“The drawer was locked when I left it,” said Mr. Longestaffe. “I make no deductions and draw no conclusions, but the drawer was locked.”

“Then I should say it must have been locked when you returned to it.”

“No, sir, I found it open. I make no deductions and draw no conclusions⁠—but I left it locked and I found it open.”

“I should make a deduction and draw a conclusion,” said Dolly; “and that would be that somebody else had opened it.”

“This can answer no purpose at all,” said Bideawhile.

“It was but a chance remark,” said Melmotte. “I did not come here out of the City at very great personal inconvenience to myself to squabble about the lock of the drawer. As I was informed that you three gentlemen would be here together, I thought the opportunity a suitable one for meeting you and making you an offer about this unfortunate business.” He paused a moment; but neither of the three spoke. It did occur to Dolly to ask them to wait while he should fetch Squercum; but on second thoughts he reflected that a great deal of trouble would have to be taken, and probably for no good. “Mr. Bideawhile, I believe,” suggested Melmotte; and the lawyer bowed his head. “If I remember rightly I wrote to you offering to pay the money due to your clients⁠—”

“Squercum is my lawyer,” said Dolly.

“That will make no difference.”

“It makes a deal of difference,” said Dolly.

“I wrote,” continued Melmotte, “offering my bills at three and six months’ date.”

“They couldn’t be accepted, Mr. Melmotte.”

“I would have allowed interest. I never have had my bills refused before.”

“You must be aware, Mr. Melmotte,” said the lawyer, “that the sale of a property is not like an ordinary mercantile transaction in which bills are customarily given and taken. The understanding was that money should be paid in the usual way. And when we learned, as we did learn, that the property had been at once mortgaged by you, of course we became⁠—well, I think I may be justified in saying more than suspicious. It was a most⁠—most⁠—unusual proceeding. You say you have another offer to make, Mr. Melmotte.”

“Of course I have been short of money. I have had enemies whose business it has been for some time past to run down my credit, and, with my credit, has fallen the value of stocks in which it has been known that I have been largely interested. I tell you the truth openly. When I purchased Pickering I had no idea that the payment of such a sum of money could inconvenience me in the least. When the time came at which I should pay it, stocks were so depreciated that it was impossible to sell. Very hostile proceedings are threatened against me now. Accusations are made, false as hell,”⁠—Mr. Melmotte as he spoke raised his voice and looked round the room⁠—“but which at the present crisis may do me most cruel damage. I have come to say that, if you will undertake to stop proceedings which have been commenced in the City, I will have fifty thousand pounds⁠—which is the amount due to these two gentlemen⁠—ready for payment on Friday at noon.”

“I have taken no proceedings as yet,” said Bideawhile.

“It’s Squercum,” says Dolly.

“Well, sir,” continued Melmotte addressing Dolly, “let me assure you that if these proceedings are stayed the money will be forthcoming;⁠—but if not, I cannot produce the money. I little thought two months ago that I should ever have to make such a statement in reference to such a sum as fifty thousand pounds. But so it is. To raise that money by Friday, I shall have to cripple my resources frightfully. It will be done at a terrible cost. But what Mr. Bideawhile says is true. I have no right to suppose that the purchase of this property should be looked upon as an ordinary commercial transaction. The money should have been paid⁠—and, if you will now take my word, the money shall be paid. But this cannot be done if I am made to appear before the Lord Mayor tomorrow. The accusations brought against me are damnably false. I do not know with whom they have originated. Whoever did originate them, they are damnably false. But unfortunately, false as they are, in the present crisis, they may be ruinous to me. Now gentlemen, perhaps you will give me an answer.”

Both the father and the lawyer looked at Dolly. Dolly was in truth the accuser through the mouthpiece of his attorney Squercum. It was at Dolly’s