Clive looked at him, as if doubting his old friend’s sanity.
“Don’t stand staring at me like a confounded stock-fish, sir. You’ve got me into this scrape, now tell me how to get out of it. Hang it all, Clive, I’ve been like a second father to you, and the least you could have done would have been to give me fair warning, so that I might have—have—hedged—yes, that’s the word my lovely son-in-law would have used. Now, then, before it is too late. I daresay I could get them back from him, as I only saw him to-night. Can you help me to make a better price?”
Clive seated himself, for he was weary, and the Doctor, after setting down his candlestick, was walking up and down the room as he talked.
“My dear Doctor,” said Clive, “will you explain what you mean? Cursed mine—too late—get them back from him. To begin with, who is ‘him’?”
“Who is ‘him’?” cried the Doctor furiously. “Why, that confounded brother of yours. After all that has passed, I was obliged to go to him hat in hand, and humble myself so as to try and save what I could out of the fire.”
“In heaven’s name, what fire, sir?” cried Clive, who, after his sleepless night and anxiety, was growing more and more confused.
“For,” continued the Doctor, without heeding the question, “I said to myself: He’s cursedly knowing on ’Change, and for the sake of Janet and his expectations of what he may get from me, he’ll do his best, and he may know where to get a good price.”
“My dear sir, have you taken leave of your senses?”
“Almost, you scoundrel. Money spoils all men. Sucks all the honesty out of them. You’re as bad as the rest. But I didn’t think you would put me in such a hole. Now then: shall I leave them in Jessop’s hands or place them in yours, to cheat somebody else with the cursed rubbish. I’m a bit reckless now, for it’s ruin nearly, and drudgery to the end of my days.”
“Look here,” said Clive excitedly; “do I understand that you have given your shares in the ‘White Virgin’ to Jessop to sell?”