“I must be able to say,” said Sewell, gravely, “that I never lost over night what I had not paid the next morning; and I will even ask of you to corroborate me so far as this transaction goes. There were several of your fellows at my house last night; they saw what we played for, and that I was the loser. There will be—there always is—plenty of gossip about these things, and the first question is, 'Has he-booked up?' I'm sure it's not asking more than you are ready to do, to say that I paid my debt within twenty-four hours.”
“Certainly; most willingly. I don't know that any one has a right to question me on the matter.”
“I never said he had. I only warned you how people will talk, and how necessary it is to be prepared to stifle a scandal even before it has flared out.”
“It shall be cared for. I'll do exactly as you wish,” said Cave, who was too much flurried to know what was asked of him, and to what he was pledged.
“I'm glad this is off my mind,” said Sewell, with a long sigh of relief. “I lay awake half the night thinking of it; for there are scores of fellows who are not of your stamp, and who would be for submitting these documents to their lawyer, and asking, Heaven knows, what this affair related to. Now I tell you frankly, I 'd have given no explanations. He who gave that bond is, as I know, a consummate rascal, and has robbed me—that is, my wife—out of two-thirds of her fortune; but my hands are tied regarding him. I could n't touch him, except he should try to take my life,—a thing, by the way, he is quite capable of. Old Dillon, my wife's father, believed him to be the best and truest of men, and my wife inherited this belief, even in the face of all the injuries he had worked us. She went on saying, 'My father always said, “Trust Fossy: there's at least one man in the world that will never deceive you.'””
“What was the name you said?” asked Cave, quickly.
“Oh, only a nickname. I don't want to mention his name. I have sealed up the bond, with this superscription,—'Colonel Sewell's bond.' I did this believing you would not question me farther; but if you desire to read it over, I 'll break the envelope at once.”
“No, no; nothing of the kind. Leave it just as it is.”
“So that,” said Sewell, pursuing his former line of thought, “this man not alone defrauded me, but he sowed dissension between me and my wife. Her faith is shaken in him, I have no doubt, but she 'll not confess it. Like a genuine woman, she will persist in asserting the convictions she has long ceased to be held by, and quote this stupid letter of her father in the face of every fact.
“I ought not to have got into these things,” said Sewell, as he walked impatiently down the room. “These family bedevilments should be kept from one's friends; but the murder is out now, and you can see how I stand—and see besides, that if I am not always able to control my temper, a friend might find an excuse for me.”