“Aye, that I would,” the great railway-man answered, still more confidently than before, rubbing his fat hands reflectively. “It’s a capital opening. Erasmus Walker’ll be in for it, of course; and Erasmus Walker’ll get it. But don’t you tell your fellow that. It’ll only discourage him. You just send him down to Yorkshire to reconnoiter the ground; and if he’s good for anything, when he’s seen the spot he’ll make a plan of his own, a great deal better than Walker’s. Not that that’ll matter, don’t you know, as far as this viaduct goes. The company’ll take Walker’s, no matter how good any other fellow’s may be, and how bad Walker’s—because Walker has a great name, and because they think they can’t go far wrong if they follow Walker. But still, if your friend’s design is a good one, it’ll attract attention—which is always something; and after they’ve accepted Walker’s, and flaws begin to be found in it—as experts can always find flaws in anything, no matter how well planned—your friend can come forward and make a fuss in the papers (or what’s better still, YOU can come forward and make it for him) to say these flaws were strikingly absent from HIS very superior and scientific conception. There’ll be flaws in your friend’s as well, of course, but they won’t be the same ones, and nobody’ll have the same interest in finding them out and exposing them. And that’ll get your man talked about in the papers and the profession. It’s better, anyhow, than wasting his time doing nothing in London here.”
“He shall do it!” Walter cried, all on fire. “I’ll take care he shall do it. And Sir Edward, I tell you, I’d give five thousand pounds down if only he could get the job away from Walker.”
“Got a grudge against Walker, then?” Sir Edward cried quickly, puckering up his small eyes.
“Oh, no,” Tyrrel answered, smiling; that was not much in his line. “But I’ve got strong reasons of my own, on the other hand, for wishing to do a good turn to Le Neve in this business.”
And he went home, reflecting in his own soul on the way that many thousands would be as dross in the pan to him if only he could make Cleer Trevennack happy.
But that very same evening Trevennack came home from the Admiralty in a most excited condition.
“Lucy!” he cried to his wife, as soon as he was alone in the room with her, “who do you think I saw to-day—there, alive in the flesh, standing smiling on the steps of Sir Edward Jones’ house?—that brute Walter Tyrrel, who killed our poor boy for us!” “Hush! hush, Michael!” his wife cried in answer. “It’s so long ago now, and he was such a boy at the time; and he repents it bitterly—I’m sure he repents it. You promised you’d try to forgive him. For Cleer’s sake, dear heart, you must keep your promise.”
Trevennack knit his brows. “What does he mean, then, by dogging my steps?” he cried. “What does he mean by coming after me up to London like this? What does he mean by tempting me? I can’t stand the sight of him. I won’t be challenged, Lucy; I don’t know whether it’s the devil or not, but when I saw the fellow to-day I had hard work to keep my hands off him. I wanted to spring at his throat. I would have liked to throttle him!”
The silver-haired lady drew still closer to the excited creature, and held his hands with a gentle pressure. “Michael,” she said, earnestly, “this IS the devil. This is the greatest temptation of all. This is what I dread most for you. Remember, it’s Satan himself that suggests such thoughts to you. Fight the devil WITHIN, dearest. Fight him within, like a man. That’s the surest place, after all, to conquer him.”
Trevennack drew himself up proudly, and held his peace for a time. Then he went on in another tone: “I shall get leave,” said he quietly, becoming pure human once more. “I shall get leave of absence. I can’t stop in town while this creature’s about. I’d HAVE to spring at him if I saw him again. I can’t keep my hands off him. I’ll fly from temptation. I must go down into the country.”