Bassett yielded sullenly, and now divided his time between London and the country.
Wheeler worked with him on a share of commission, and they made some money between them.
After the bitter lesson he had received Bassett vowed to himself he never would attack Sir Charles again unless he was sure of victory. For all this he hated him and Lady Bassett worse than ever, hated them to the death.
He never moved a finger down at Huntercombe, nor said a word; but in London he employed a private inquirer to find out where Lady Bassett had lived at the time of her confinement, and whether any clergyman had visited her.
The private inquirer could find out nothing, and Bassett, comparing his advertisements with his performance, dismissed him for a humbug.
But the office brought him into contact with a great many medical men, one after another. He used to say to each stranger, with an insidious smile, “I think you once attended my cousin—Lady Bassett.”
CHAPTER XXXIII.
SIR CHARLES and Lady Bassett, relieved of their cousin's active enmity, led a quiet life, and one that no longer furnished striking incidents.
But dramatic incident is not everything: character and feeling show themselves in things that will not make pictures. Now it was precisely during this reposeful period that three personages of this story exhibited fresh traits of feeling, and also of character.