"I've done all the waiting I intend to, Mr. Gwynne Peters. If he ain't at home, I mean to see her——"
"Oh, good Lord, Steven, you can't do that—you can't talk to a woman about things like that!" interposed Doctor Vardaman, shocked. "Now I'll tell you what, you stay here quietly with me, and take dinner and let Gwynne see to it. Gwynne'll fix it all right if you——" if you will give him time, the doctor was about to add, when the weakness of that already well-worn plea struck him.
"I don't trust him, I tell you—he ain't to be trusted. I can attend to my own affairs and I will!" said Steven fiercely. The question had by this time become to him not so much that of recovering his money as of having his own way; they would conspire against him, would they? They would keep him from having a voice in his own proper affairs? Somebody had been meddling with him that way all his life; he would show them, he, Steven Gwynne! "I won't have him interfering with me any longer—he don't suit me—I'll run my affairs to suit myself, without any leave from you, Mr. Gwynne Peters—call yourself a lawyer—I wouldn't trust you 'round the corner with a cent of my money—I wouldn't have you try a case for my dog, I wouldn't——"
"Then get some other lawyer that you do trust!" shouted Gwynne above the other's shouting. "But right now you're not going near Mrs. Pallinder, d'ye hear me? It's shameful; she shan't be persecuted this way!"
"I'll go where I damn please, sir. Get another lawyer! Precious good care you've taken that I can't get another lawyer! Where's the money? where's my hundred and twenty dollars, Gwynne Peters?"
"If you'll come down to the office, I'll give you your infernal hundred and twenty now," said Gwynne, steadying himself as best he could. "I'll give it to you myself out of hand, and then you can go and employ ten lawyers if you like. But if you think I'm going to turn Mrs. Pall—the Pallinders out of doors, or hound them about the rent, you're mistaken. Why, it's my money just as much as yours, and am I worrying? The colonel's good for it, and even if he isn't, the house and furniture are there; they aren't going to fly away—if you'll be patient and act sensibly, I'll get your money. If you won't I'll wash my hands of the whole business. You can——"
"For God's sake, Gwynne," ejaculated the doctor in an undertone, "don't make things worse than they are! Steven can't control himself, but you can!"
"Why, I'm not a brute, Doctor Vardaman, I'm not a—a Jew! I won't allow Mrs. Pallinder to be made wretched because of this—this—it's bad enough for me to have to stand it; but she—she——" The young man caught himself; he was on the edge of saying "she's an angel," but even in that moment of excitement some saving sense of humour mercifully restrained him. "She don't know anything about business. You can't go to her for your rent! It's—it's inhuman to harry a woman like Mrs. Pallinder about rent. Leave her out of it at any rate, it's the least you can do."
"You, sir, get me my gum-shoes," said Steven determinedly, as the door once more swung to admit Huddesley. It is possible that this discreet and admirably trained individual had been improving his knowledge of Doctor Vardaman's acquaintances, just outside the key-hole; he overlooked Steven's orders, and went up to the doctor with a perturbed countenance. "Doctor Vardaman, if you please, sir——" there followed a whisper charged with meaning.
"Oh, the devil!" said the old gentleman desperately. He looked around. "Steven, Gwynne, do sit down, both of you—why, yes, of course, Huddesley, certainly you can bring her in—and—and here's the key of the wine-cellar, Huddesley;" he was quite flustered. The others forgot their excitement a moment to wonder at him. "Bring her in, Huddesley, don't keep a lady standing," said the doctor, speaking testily in his confusion. Huddesley was keenly alive to the dramatic aspect of the meeting; he went ceremoniously out and ceremoniously returned, spreading the door with a flourish.