to himself that Bollum was right.  His own lawyer had been almost as hard to him as his brother-in-law, who was his declared enemy.  But what should he do?  As to precautions to be taken in reference to the departure of the gang, all that was quite out of the question.  They should go to Australia or stay behind, as they pleased.  There should be no understanding that they were to go—­or even that they were to hold their tongues because the money was paid to them.  It should be fully explained to them that the two things were distinct.  Then as he was taken to the inn at which he intended to sleep that night, he made up his mind in the cab that he would pay the money to Crinkett.

He got to London just in time to reach the bank before it was closed, and there made his arrangements.  He deposited his documents and securities, and was assured that the necessary sum should be placed to his credit on the following day.  Then he walked across a street or two in the City to the place indicated by Bollum for the appointment.  It was at the Jericho Coffee House, in Levant Court,—­a silent, secluded spot, lying between Lombard Street and Cornhill.  Here he found himself ten minutes before the time, and, asking for a cup of coffee, sat down at a table fixed to the ground in a little separate box.  The order was given to a young woman at a bar in the room.  Then an ancient waiter hobbled up to him and explained that coffee was not quite ready.  In truth, coffee was not often asked for at the Jericho Coffee House.  The house, said the waiter, was celebrated for its sherry.  Would he take half a pint of sherry?  So he ordered the sherry, which was afterwards drunk by Bollum.

Bollum came, punctual to the moment, and seated himself at the table with good-humoured alacrity.  ’Well, Mr. Caldigate, how is it to be?  I think you must have seen that what I have proposed will be for the best.’

‘I will tell you what I mean to do, Mr. Bollum,’ said Caldigate, very gravely.  ‘It cannot be said that I owe Mr. Crinkett a shilling.’

‘Certainly not.  But it comes very near owing, doesn’t it?’

‘So near that I mean to pay it.’

‘That’s right.’

’So near that I don’t like to feel that I have got his money in my pocket.  As far as money goes, I have been a fortunate man.’

‘Wonderful!’ said Bollum, enthusiastically.

’And as I was once in partnership with your uncle, I do not like to think that I enriched myself by a bargain which impoverished him.’

‘It ain’t nice, is it,—­that you should have it all, and he nothing?’

‘Feeling that very strongly,’ continued Caldigate, merely shaking his head in token of displeasure at Bollum’s interruption, ’I have determined to repay Mr. Crinkett an amount that seems to me to be fair.  He shall have back twenty thousand pounds.’

‘He’s a lucky fellow, and he’ll be off like a shot;—­like a shot.’

’He and others have conspired to rob me of all my happiness, thinking that they might so most probably get this money from me.  They have invented a wicked lie,—­a wicked damnable lie,—­a damnable lie!  They are miscreants,—­foul miscreants!’