On the following morning he kept his appointment at the office in Coleman Street, as did Mr. Wharton also. The latter was there first by some minutes, and explained to Mr. Hartlepod that he had come there to meet his son-in-law. Mr. Hartlepod was civil, but very cold. Mr. Wharton saw at the first glance that the services of Ferdinand Lopez were no longer in request by the San Juan Mining Company; but he sat down and waited. Now that he was there, however painful the interview would be, he would go through it. At ten minutes past eleven he made up his mind that he would wait till the half-hour—and then go, with the fixed resolution that he would never willingly spend another shilling on behalf of that wretched man. But at a quarter past eleven the wretched man came—swaggering into the office, though it had not, hitherto, been his custom to swagger. But misfortune masters all but the great men, and upsets the best-learned lesson of even a long life. “I hope I have not kept you waiting, Mr. Wharton. Well, Hartlepod, how are you today? So this little affair is to be settled at last, and now these shares shall be bought and paid for.” Mr. Wharton did not say a word, not even rising from his chair, or greeting his son-in-law by a word. “I dare say Mr. Wharton has already explained himself,” said Lopez.
“I don’t know that there is any necessity,” said Mr. Hartlepod.
“Well—I suppose it’s simple enough,” continued Lopez. “Mr. Wharton, I believe I am right in saying that you are ready to pay the money at once.”
“Yes;—I am ready to pay the money as soon as I am assured that you are on your route to Guatemala. I will not pay a penny till I know that as a fact.”
Then Mr. Hartlepod rose from his seat and spoke. “Gentlemen,” he said, “the matter within the last few days has assumed a different complexion.”
“As how?” exclaimed Lopez.
“The Directors have changed their mind as to sending out Mr. Lopez as their local manager. The Directors intend to appoint another gentleman. I had already acquainted Mr. Lopez with the Directors’ intention.”
“Then the matter is settled?” said Mr. Wharton.
“Quite settled,” said Mr. Hartlepod.
As a matter of course Lopez began to fume and to be furious. What!—after all that had been done did the Directors mean to go back from their word? After he had been induced to abandon his business in his own country, was he to be thrown over in that way? If the Company intended to treat him like that, the Company would very soon hear from him. Thank God there were laws in the land. “Yesterday was the last day fixed for the payment of the money,” said Mr. Hartlepod.
“It is at any rate certain that Mr. Lopez is not to go to Guatemala?” asked Mr. Wharton.
“Quite certain,” said Mr. Hartlepod. Then Mr. Wharton rose from his chair and quitted the room.
“By G⸺, you have ruined me among you,” said Lopez;—“ruined me in the most shameful manner. There is no mercy, no friendship, no kindness, no forbearance anywhere! Why am I to be treated in this manner?”
“If you have any complaint to make,” said Mr. Hartlepod, “you had better write to the Directors. I have nothing to do but my duty.”
“By heavens, the Directors shall hear of it!” said Lopez as he left the office.
Mr. Wharton went to his chambers and endeavoured to make up his mind what step he must now take in reference to this dreadful incubus. Of course he could turn the man out of his house, but in so doing it might well be that he would also turn out his own daughter. He believed Lopez to be utterly without means, and a man so destitute would generally be glad to be relieved from the burden of his wife’s support. But this man would care nothing for his wife’s comfort; nothing even, as Mr. Wharton believed, for his wife’s life. He would simply use his wife as best he might as a means for obtaining money. There was nothing to be done but to buy him off, by so much money down, and by so much at stated intervals as long as he should keep away. Mr. Walker must manage it, but it was quite clear to Mr. Wharton that the Guatemala scheme was altogether at an end. In the meantime a certain sum must be offered to the man at once, on condition that he would leave the house and do so without taking his wife with him.
So far Mr. Wharton had a plan, and a plan that was at least feasible. Wretched as he was, miserable, as he thought of the fate which had befallen his daughter—there was still a prospect of some relief. But Lopez as he walked out of the office had nothing to which he could look for comfort. He slowly made his way to Little Tankard Yard, and there he found Sexty Parker balancing himself on the back legs of his chair, with a small decanter of public-house sherry before him. “What; you here?” he said.
“Yes;—I have come to say goodbye.”
“Where are you going then? You shan’t start to Guatemala if I know it.”
“That’s all over, my boy,” said Lopez, smiling.
“What is it you mean?” said Sexty, sitting square on his chair and looking very serious.
“I am not going to Guatemala or
