Mrs. Wiggins took up her dust-pan and brush, and retreated with much clatter into the back premises, muttering words which were not complimentary to her employer.
"Do, indeed! I'd like to see 'im ever do anything for anybody besides 'isself, the close-fisted old curmudgeon. I'd be sorry for a mouse that had to live on 'is leavings. The idea of 'is turning on me like that, as if a body couldn't speak about nothin'."
It was impossible for Mrs. Wiggins to understand how her words had for Michael the force of an accusation. She did not know of the secret consciousness which they awakened.
"So, then, it was a poor woman whom he had defrauded," said the voice of Michael's conscience.
"Defrauded! What an absurd idea!" the voice of his other self responded. "There was no fraud in the matter; the money had never been Mrs. Lavers'. A man had a right to keep what he found, unless he knew it to belong to some one else."
But reason as he might with himself, the information imparted by Mrs. Wiggins had disturbed Michael's mind.
An incident which occurred a few days later further destroyed its peace.
Business had taken Michael to the south side of the river, and he was returning late in the evening across one of the bridges on his way back to Bloomsbury, when his attention was arrested by the appearance of a man who stood leaning against one of the parapets and coughing violently. Michael started, and a thrill ran through him. He had so long thought of his brother as dead, that the sight of this man, who bore so striking a resemblance to him, affected him almost with terror, as though he conceived him to be a ghost.
To be sure, he had grey hair, and Frank's had been brown when Michael last saw him, and his form was pitifully bent and wasted; but still the resemblance was there, and so strong that Michael involuntarily stood still as he saw him, whilst his heart began to beat more painfully than was pleasant. The same instant the man ceased coughing; he lifted his head and saw by the light of the gas-lamp on the parapet above him the man who stood at his side. A low cry of wonder—and was it of pleasure?—escaped him. He moved a step nearer, exclaiming eagerly: