"What do you mean?" asked Vernon quickly.
"It's only an idea. But this Spider strangled the old man so cleverly and so quietly that I wondered if he was some nigger who had known Dimsdale in India or Burmah and so had learned his secret, whatever it might be."
"It's a queer way of looking at it," murmured Vernon thoughtfully, "and Dimsdale's secret has to do with the East, I fancy. There may be something in what you say. I'll think it over."
"Do," said Towton cordially, "and I'll come to your rooms to report on my proposed interview with this Bond Street Witch of Endor."
On this understanding they parted, having had a most interesting conversation on important subjects.
"There may be something in Towton's idea," thought Vernon.
[CHAPTER VII.]
LADY CORSOON'S APPEAL.
Since the tragic death of Dimsdale, Vernon had seen very little of Maunders. Certainly--since even London is parochial in bringing the same people in the same set constantly together--he had met him casually at the houses of mutual acquaintances, but beyond a few careless words, nothing had passed between them. It seemed as though Maunders, after deciding to leave the partnership with Nemo in abeyance, had drifted knowingly apart from his old schoolfellow. Vernon did not care much, as he mistrusted a man who was willing to sacrifice everything and everyone to his greed for pleasure.
Maunders reminded Vernon in many ways of Lucien de Rubempré in "Lost Illusions." Egotism was the keynote of the real person as of the fictitious; but where Balzac's hero drifted weakly with the tide, Maunders struck out against it for a landing of his own choosing. As Lucien was drawn, handsome, clever, and unscrupulous, so was Maunders in actual life, and an insatiable love of pleasure was common to both. Overindulgence might well wreck Mrs. Bedge's darling, as it had wrecked the lover of Madame de Bargeton.