Fred Bingham did not go straight to Hans Place, but walked several times round Lowndes Square, thinking deeply over this new and unexpected state of affairs. There was no doubt he had a difficult and dangerous game to play. He would not have willingly embarked upon it, but it had been in a way forced upon him, and he accepted the risks without flinching. He had every confidence in himself, and the excitement and intrigue exactly suited him. The stakes were worth playing for, and had a double value in his eyes, in that they were to be won at the expense of Frank. At any rate he had the consolation that if he were beaten he would be no worse off than if he had thrown up the cards as hopeless at first. His uncle would have cast him off at once, and he could do no more if he ever found out the truth. There could be no doubt, then, that he had chosen the only possible course. To think that this affair which had seemed destruction to his hopes, should now turn out to have established him as his uncle's sole heir, whereas he was previously to have had only a third. It seemed almost too good to be true. How that blundering old idiot, Walker, could have made such a mistake, Fred could not at first imagine; but he came to the correct conclusion that he must have said nephew only, without mentioning names, and that Captain Bradshaw had jumped to the conclusion that the nephew was Frank. Now as to the future. There were two risks—the one from Frank, the other from Stephen Walker. As to Frank, he had already achieved the great point of having the letter worded ambiguously; and if Frank wrote to demand an explanation, he must somehow intercept the letter, and prevent it reaching Captain Bradshaw. Then he must himself see Frank, and do what he could to keep them asunder. Then, as to this madman, Walker. He would not be likely to go again to Captain Bradshaw. That was most unlikely. Nor would Captain Bradshaw be likely to go to him. As to his threat to dog him, and tell everyone about the affair, that was unpleasant—very unpleasant—and must, if possible, be put a stop to; but at any rate, it would not be likely to come to Captain Bradshaw's ears. None of Fred's friends were acquainted with his uncle; and if Walker were to see them all, and tell his story, his uncle would not come to hear of it from them. What other danger was there?—Alice? Yes, Alice was certainly a danger. He did not exactly see how. But she disliked him, and was very fond of Frank. She was a thoughtful, earnest girl, and would be very likely to take some steps to inquire further. It was even possible that she might go and see Stephen Walker himself.
“Yes,” he thought, “Alice is quite capable of that; and if she does so, it is all up with me.”
Fred stopped in his walk at this new thought. This was, indeed, a danger—a danger against which he saw no prevention. In vain did he think over every possible plan, but nothing satisfactory could be imagined.
“No,” he said at last, as he walked on again; “if she does that I am lost. My only hope is to get him out of the way: and how that is to be done, I don't see.”
CHAPTER XIV.
A SHOP TO LET.
One thing Fred Bingham quite settled in his mind as he walked slowly in the direction of Hans Place, and that was that he would on no account tell his father of the mistake which had occurred. Mr. Bingham might be a sharp practitioner, but Fred felt that even to shield him it was possible that his father might refuse to have anything to do with this scheme of laying the blame upon Frank Maynard's shoulders. Even should he consent to conceal the truth, the hold which the knowledge of such a secret as this would give him, would be most unpleasant. It was quite possible that he and his father might not always get on well together, for the latter, Fred thought, was hardly sharp enough for the times, and might become a drag. No, certainly, Mr. Bingham must not be told.
“Well, Fred, what news?” Mr. Bingham asked, as Fred went into his study.