Not that Percival dreaded on the part of Mrs. Fitzhardinge the same attempt at extortion, or rather of obtaining restitution, which had been made by Mr. Torrens; because he knew full well that she was occupying a false position in the world, and living under an assumed name as well as himself;—and should she take it into her head to threaten him with an exposure as being no other than Howard the run-away attorney, he could in a moment retaliate by proclaiming her to be Mrs. Slingsby—or Mrs. Torrens—the woman who had been transported for forgery!
No:—Mr. Percival dreaded not menace on the part of Mrs. Fitzhardinge; but the naturally suspicious disposition of the miser, and the vague fears that ever haunt the avaricious man when questioned as to the amount and whereabouts of his resources—these were the influences which made Percival hesitate to plunge too precipitately into the transaction now submitted for his consideration.
“Well, sir,—are you prepared to negociate with us—or not?” demanded Perdita, after a short pause, during which the miser fidgetted nervously upon his chair.
“It all depends, Miss—it all depends on the amount your noble friend requires,” he answered at length.
“The entire business is left in our hands,” said Mrs. Fitzhardinge; “and we wish to raise between five and six thousand pounds in the first instance——”
“Of which one thousand must be paid to-night,” added Perdita, “as an earnest that the transaction is seriously entered into.”
“A thousand pounds to-night!” cried the miser. “But how is that possible—even if I had the money in the house,” he asked, looking anxiously around, and sinking his voice to a low whisper,—“how is it possible, I say, since the young nobleman is not here to give me any acknowledgment?”
“This objection was naturally anticipated by us,” replied Perdita. “Viscount Marston, instead of sending us the papers this evening, did us the honour to call personally with them; and his lordship confided to me,—and to me alone,” added Perdita, with a rapid glance of triumphant meaning at her mother,—“his note of hand for one thousand guineas.”
“I must congratulate you, my dear madam,” exclaimed Percival, addressing himself with a smile to the old woman,—“I must congratulate you on possessing a daughter of the most business-like character in the person of Miss Fitzhardinge.”
“Then pray let us transact our present affairs in a business-like manner,” said Perdita, who was rapidly putting herself more forward in the matter, and proportionately throwing her mother into the back-ground: so that the old woman more than once bit her lip to restrain her rising choler;—but, remembering the terrific scene of the morning, she saw no alternative save to allow her daughter to have her own way—trusting, however, to the chapter of accidents to restore to her in the long run that paramount influence which she had lost.