"I quite believe it. Eh, what? The fellow's a scoundrel," grunted Mr. Dimsdale crossly. "He should be tarred and feathered. Still, if things are as you say, I don't mind Ida asking him to the ball. But she must ask Towton also," he added with sudden determination.
"She will do so, although she dreads his love-making. However, she may grow sick of Maunders when she finds he is running after Lucy Corsoon, and Towton may catch her heart in the recoil."
"Hope so; hope so," muttered Dimsdale, turning his cigar in his lips. "I want to see my little girl safely married to Towton, who is as good a fellow as ever breathed."
"But not a young fellow. However, it is wiser to let events take their course for the present, Mr. Dimsdale. Opposition, as I say, will only make Ida more wilful, since she is filled with romance natural at her age."
"Ouf," breathed the old man, wiping his brow with a bandanna handkerchief. "What a handful women are! But there," he dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand, "let us leave these trivialities and talk business. Have you heard anything more about The Spider?"
"Well, I made enquiries at Scotland Yard, and find that he is very much wanted by the police."
Mr. Dimsdale grunted. "Humph! The police are always wanting and never getting."
"The Spider is too clever for them," protested Vernon anxiously. "He won't be too clever for me," said the elder man with sudden ferocity, and slapping his hand on the table. "Eh, what? Am I to be blackmailed by an infernal scoundrel who swears that he will tell a parcel of lies if I don't pay him one thousand pounds. Hang him."
"If it is merely lies, why pay?" asked Vernon drily.
"There is a grain of truth in the lies," admitted Dimsdale crossly. "The absolute truth I can face, but the lies make me out to be a very queer person indeed. I shall tell you all when we secure this man."