“I shan’t go near Sir Raffle Buffle tomorrow, nor yet the next day. You mustn’t suppose that I am afraid of Sir Raffle Buffle.”
“You are only afraid of Lily Dale.” From all which it may be seen that Mrs. Arabin and John Eames had become very intimate on their way home.
It was then arranged that he should call on Mr. Toogood that same night or early the next morning, and that he should come to the hotel at twelve o’clock on the next day. Going along one of the passages he passed two gentlemen in shovel-hats, with very black new coats, and knee-breeches; and Johnny could not but hear a few words which one clerical gentleman said to the other. “She was a woman of great energy, of wonderful spirit, but a firebrand, my lord—a complete firebrand!” Then Johnny knew that the Dean of A. was talking to the Bishop of B. about the late Mrs. Proudie.
LXXI
Mr. Toogood at Silverbridge
We will now go back to Mr. Toogood as he started for Silverbridge, on the receipt of Mrs. Arabin’s telegram from Venice. “I gave cheque to Mr. Crawley. It was part of a sum of money. Will write to Archdeacon Grantly today, and return home at once.” That was the telegram which Mr. Toogood received at his office, and on receiving which he resolved that he must start to Barchester immediately.
“It isn’t certainly what you may call a paying business,” he said to his partner, who continued to grumble; “but it must be done all the same. If it don’t get into the ledger in one way it will in another.” So Mr. Toogood started for Silverbridge, having sent to his house in Tavistock Square for a small bag, a clean shirt, and a toothbrush. And as he went down in the railway-carriage, before he went to sleep, he turned it all over in his mind. “Poor devil! I wonder whether any man ever suffered so much before. And as for that woman—it’s ten thousand pities that she should have died before she heard it. Talk of heart-complaint; she’d have had a touch of heart-complaint if she had known this!” Then, as he was speculating how Mrs. Arabin could have become possessed of the cheque, he went to sleep.
He made up his mind that the first person to be seen was Mr. Walker, and after that he would, if possible, go to Archdeacon Grantly. He was at first minded to go at once out to Hogglestock; but when he remembered how very strange Mr. Crawley was in all his ways, and told himself professionally that telegrams were but bad sources of evidence on which to depend for details, he thought that it would be safer if he were first to see Mr. Walker. There would be very little delay. In a day or two the archdeacon would receive his letter, and in a day or two after that Mrs. Arabin would probably be at home.
It was late in the evening before Mr. Toogood reached the house of the Silverbridge solicitor, having the telegram carefully folded in his pocket; and he was shown into the dining-room while the servant took his name up to Mr. Walker. The clerks were gone, and the office was closed; and persons coming on business at such times—as they often did come to that house—were always shown into the parlour. “I don’t know whether master can see you tonight,” said the girl; “but if he can, he’ll come down.”
When the card was brought up to Mr. Walker he was sitting alone with his wife. “It’s Toogood,” said he; “poor Crawley’s cousin.”
“I wonder whether he has found anything out,” said Mrs. Walker. “May he not come up here?” Then Mr. Toogood was summoned into the drawing-room, to the maid’s astonishment; for Mr. Toogood had made no toilet sacrifices to the goddess or grace who presides over evening society in provincial towns—and presented himself with the telegram in his hand.
“We have found out all about poor Crawley’s cheque,” he said, before the maidservant had closed the door. “Look at that,” and he handed the telegram to Mr. Walker. The poor girl was obliged to go, though she would have given one of her ears to know the exact contents of that bit of paper.
“Walker, what is it?” said his wife, before Walker had had time to make the contents of the document his own.
“He got it from Mrs. Arabin,” said Toogood.
“No!” said Mrs. Walker. “I thought that was it all along.”
“It’s a pity you didn’t say so before,” said Mr. Walker.
“So I did; but a lawyer thinks that nobody can ever see anything but himself;—begging your pardon, Mr. Toogood, but I forgot you were one of us. But, Walker, do read it.”
Then the telegram was read. “I gave cheque to Mr. Crawley. It was part of a sum of money,”—with the rest of it.
“I knew it would come out,” said Mrs. Walker. “I was quite sure of it.”
“But why the mischief didn’t he say so?” said Walker.
“He did say that he got it from the dean,” said Toogood.
“But he didn’t get it from the dean; and the dean clearly knew nothing about it.”
“I’ll tell you what it is,” said Mrs. Walker; “it has been some private transaction between Mr. Crawley and Mrs. Arabin, which the dean was to know nothing about; and so he wouldn’t tell. I must say I honour him.”
“I don’t think it has been that,” said Walker. “Had he known all through that it had come from Mrs. Arabin, he would never have said that Mr. Soames gave it to him, and then that the dean gave it him.”
“The truth has been that he has known nothing about it,” said Toogood; “and we shall have to tell him.”
At that moment Mary Walker came into the room, and Mrs. Walker could not constrain herself. “Mary, Mr. Crawley is all
