’It’s the interest on my own money.
Why don’t he give it me? I suppose he
has had it.’
’You must ask him that, Mrs Van Siever.
You’re in partnership with him, and he can
tell you. Nobody knows anything about it.
If you were in partnership with me, then of course
I could tell you. But you’re not.
You’ve never trusted me, Mrs Van Siever.’
The lady remained there closeted with Mr Musselboro
for an hour after that, and did, I think, at length
learn something more as to the details of her partner’s
business than her faithful servant Mr Musselboro had
at first found himself able to give to her. And
at last they came to friendly and confidential terms,
in the midst of which the personal welfare of Mr Dobbs
Broughton was, I fear, somewhat forgotten. Not
that Mr Musselboro palpably and plainly threw his
friend overboard. He took his friend’s
part—alleging excuses for him, and pleading
some facts. ’Of course, you know, a man
like that is fond of pleasure, Mrs Van Siever.
He’s been at it more or less all his life.
I don’t suppose he ever missed a Derby or an
Oaks, or the cup at Ascot, or the Goodwood in his
life.’ ‘He’ll have to miss them
before long, I’m thinking,’ said Mrs Van
Siever. ’And as to not cashing up, you must
remember, Mrs Van Siever, that ten per cent won’t
come in quite as regularly as four or five. When
you go for high interest, there must be hitches here
and there. There must, indeed, Mrs Van Siever.’
‘I know all about it,’ said Mrs Van Siever.
’If he gave it to me as soon as he got it himself,
I shouldn’t complain. Never mind.
He’s only got to give me my little bit of money
out of the business, and then he and I will be all
square. You come and see Clara this evening,
Gus.’
Then Mr Musselboro put Mrs Van Siever into another
cab, and went out upon the ’Change—hanging
about the Bank, and standing in Threadneedle Street,
talking to other men just like himself. When he
saw Dobbs Broughton he told that gentleman that Mrs
Van Siever had been in her tantrums, but that he had
managed to pacify her before she left Hook Court.
‘I’m to take the cheque for the five hundred
tonight,’ he said.
On the first of March, Conway Dalrymple’s easel
was put up in Mrs Dobbs Broughton’s boudoir
upstairs, the canvas was placed upon it on which the
outlines of Jael and Sisera had been already drawn,
and Mrs Broughton and Clara Van Siever and Conway
Dalrymple were assembled with the view of steady art-work.
But before we see how they began their work together,
we will go back for a moment to John Eames on his return
to his London lodgings. The first thing every
man does when he returns home after an absence, is
to look for his letters, and John Eames looked at
his. There were not very many. There was
a note marked immediate from Sir Raffle Buffle, in
which Sir R had scrawled in four lines a notification
