Mr. Levy had taken out the four bills from the same case, and had placed them on the table before him. “Mr. Vavasor has explained, I believe, miss, what it is you have to do?” he said.
“Yes, sir; my cousin has explained.”
“And there is nothing else to trouble you with, I believe. If you will just write your name across them, here, I need not detain you by staying any longer.” Mr. Levy was very anxious to make his visit as short as possible, since he had heard that Mr. John Vavasor was in the house.
But Alice hesitated. Two thousand pounds is a very serious sum of money. She had heard much of sharpers, and thought that she ought to be cautious. What if this man, of whom she had never before heard, should steal the bills after she had signed them? She looked again at her cousin’s letter, chiefly with the object of gaining time.
“It’s all right, miss,” said Mr. Levy.
“Could you not leave them with me, sir?” said Alice.
“Well; not very well, miss. No doubt 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 today, them on whom he has to depend will be all abroad.”
“But, sir, the money will not be payable today. 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
