Manoeuvring Monckton then inclined to let Bartley’s fraud go on and ripen, but eventually expose it for the benefit of young Walter and his wife, who adored this Monckton, because, when a beautiful woman loves an ugly blackguard, she never does it by halves.

But he had no sooner thought out this conclusion than there came an obstacle.  Lucy Muller’s heart failed her at the last moment, and she came into the office with a rush to tell her master so.  She uttered a cry of joy at sight of him, and came at him panting and full of love.  “Oh, Leonard, I am so glad you are alone!  Leonard, dear Leonard, pray do not insist on my marrying that young man.  Now it comes to the time, my heart fails me.”  The tears stood in her glorious eyes, and an honest man would have pitied her, and even respected her a little for her compunction, though somewhat tardy.

But her master just fixed his eyes coldly on his slave, and said, brutally, “Never mind your heart; think of your interest.”

The weak woman allowed herself to be diverted into this topic.  “Why, he is no such great catch, I am sure.”

“I tell you he is, more than ever:  I have just discovered another L20,000 he is heir to, and not got to wait for that any longer than I choose.”

Lucy stamped her foot.  “I don’t care for his money.  Till he came with his money you loved me.”

“I love you as much as ever,” said Monckton, coldly.

Lucy began to sob.  “No, you don’t, or you wouldn’t give me up to that young fool.”

The villain made a cynical reply, that not every Newgate thief could have matched.  “You fool,” said he, “can’t you marry him, and go on loving me? you won’t be the first.  It is done every day, to the satisfaction of all parties.”

“And to their unutterable shame,” said a clear, stern voice at their back.  Walter Clifford, coming rapidly in, had heard but little, but heard enough; and there he stood, grim and pale, a boy no longer.  These two skunks had made a man of him in one moment.  They recoiled in dismay, and the woman hid her face.

He turned upon the man first, you may be sure.  “So you have palmed this lady off on me as your sister, and trapped me, and would have destroyed me.”  His lip quivered; for they had passed the iron through his heart.  But he manned himself, and carried it off like a soldier’s son: 

“But if I was fool enough to leave my father, I am not fool enough to present to the world your cast-off mistress as my wife.” (Lucy hid her face in her hands.) “Here, Miss Lucy Monckton—­or whatever your name may be—­here is the marriage license.  Take that and my contempt, and do what you like with them.”

With these words he dashed into Bartley’s private room, and there broke down.  It was a bitter cup, the first in his young life.

The baffled schemers drank wormwood too; but they bore it differently.  The woman cried, and took her punishment meekly; the man raged and threatened vengeance.