VIII. HOW HARRY NETTERVILLE FOUND ROMNEY.
When the carriage came from Belgrave Square, those within it were not aware that it was followed by a hansom cab, from which a person having the appearance of a gentleman alighted near Vauxhall Pier, and addressing the footman, said, in a very civil tone, calculated to obtain a response:
“Pray is this Lady Thicknesse's carriage?”
“It is, sir,” replied the man, touching his hat.
“Is her ladyship with it?” pursued the inquirer.
“No, sir. We only brought the two young ladies here.”
“Are they gone to the Palace?”
“I don't think so, sir. They have got the lady's-maid with them.”
“Then I know where they are. Thank you very much.”
And he walked off in the direction of Spencer's Rents.
As the individual we have mentioned, who was by no means bad-looking, walked on, he considered within himself what course he should take, and being utterly unscrupulous, he determined to go to the house and see Rose, whatever might be the consequences.
Just as he arrived at the corner of Spencer's Rents he encountered Harry Netterville, whom he knew by sight, and accosted him without hesitation.
“Can you tell me which is Mrs. Hartley's house?” he asked.
Netterville had no idea who stood before him; but he was surprised at the inquiry, and rejoined rather sharply:
“Pray what business have you with Mrs. Hartley?”
“I might decline to give an explanation to an inquiry put in such terms,” said the other, “but I have no objection to tell you that I wish to speak to her about her daughter.”
“Her daughter!” exclaimed Netterville, starting back, and assuming an angry look. “Perhaps you are the very person of whom I am in quest? Have you recently addressed a letter to Miss Hartley? Have you written to me?”
“I have written no letters at all,” replied the stranger. “My object is to warn Mrs. Hartley against a certain individual.”
“Who is he?” demanded the attorney's clerk, eagerly.
“A very designing individual named Henry Netterville,” replied the stranger.
So astounded was Netterville, that for a moment he could hardly reply. At length, he said:
“What have you to allege against the person whose name you have mentioned?”
“Much! But it is for Mrs. Hartley's ear. I am not likely to communicate to one unknown to me!”
“Then learn, sir, to your confusion, that I am Henry Netterville!”
“Indeed!” exclaimed the other. “I shall not retract a word I have said. I shall convince Mrs. Hartley that she ought to get rid of you.
“For what reason?” demanded Netterville. “Show cause why!”
“I propose to do so. But since you force me to speak, I will say you are acting a most dishonourable part. You profess love for Rose, when you are making love to another. You offer her your hand, when you are already engaged.”
“I engaged!” exclaimed Netterville. “This is news to me. To whom am I engaged, pray?”
“To Miss Clotilde Tripp, if I am rightly informed,” replied the accuser. “If not to her, to Miss Flora Sicklemore.”
“You must be confounding me with Tom Tankard,” said Netterville. “I never paid the young ladies in question the slightest attention. And now allow me to ask a question? Who are you, sir, who interest yourself so much in my concerns, and of whom I know nothing? I am not aware that I ever saw you before; but though you pretend ignorance, I strongly suspect that you know me very well. I believe you are the person who have been annoying Rose. I think you wrote the lying epistle to me, and the unmanly letters to her. You imposed upon me for a time, but I have now found you out. Accident has delivered you into my hands, and I don't mean to part with you. Rose is at home at this moment. Come with me and apologise to her, or I'll break every bone in your body!”
“I will do nothing of the sort,” replied Romney, for it was he.
“We'll see that!” cried Netterville.
And springing upon him suddenly, he caught him by the collar and dragged him towards the house, which was not very far off.
Finding his struggles ineffectual, Romney submitted, for he did not care to call out for assistance, as that would have led to an exposure, which he desired to avoid.
It chanced at this precise moment, that the door of Mrs. Hartley's house opened, and the two young ladies came forth, attended by Rose; but the spectacle that greeted their eyes sent them instantly back, for they guessed what had occurred.
Another ineffectual struggle took place at the door; but Romney was dragged in by Netterville, and forced into the parlour, whither the ladies had retreated with Rose and her mother.
“Beg pardon, ladies!” said Netterville, still keeping fast hold of his captive. “I hope you'll excuse the intrusion!”
“Oh, never mind us!” they rejoined. “We are glad you have caught the wretch!”
“Is this the scoundrel who has annoyed you, Rose!” said Netterville.
“It is!” she replied.
“Then down on your knees, and ask her forgiveness!” said Netterville to his prisoner.
And he forced him to this humiliating posture.
“I have done nothing to call for this usage!” said Romney.
“You deserve a horsewhip!” cried Mrs. Hartley. “And if my husband were here, you'd have it!”
“Dare you say to my face that you have not several times annoyed me in the street?” asked Rose. “Do you deny writing those shameful letters to me?”
“I should not have written them if you had not given me encouragement!” he rejoined.
“It is false!” cried Rose. “I have never given you any encouragement. I detest you!”
“We do not believe a word he says, Rose!” cried Mildred, in accents of scorn and indignation. “Let him go, Mr. Netterville. The presence of such a creature is disagreeable to us!”
“Begone!” cried Netterville, releasing him, in obedience to the injunction. “Begone, I say, double-convicted liar and coward!”
And as Romney departed, he kicked him through the open door into the street.
The crestfallen blackleg stood for a moment before the house, as if about to return; but he had not the courage to face Netterville, and sneaked off.
“I think you have now got rid of him, Rose!” said Netterville, as he returned to the parlour.
“Yes; he won't trouble, her again, I'm sure!” cried Emmeline. “You have served him quite right!”
“You are a brave fellow, Harry!” cried Rose, taking his hand, and gazing at him proudly and affectionately.
“And a lucky fellow as well!” he replied. “If this stupid scoundrel had not thrown himself in my way, I should not have caught him so quickly!”