Mr. Checkynshaw bowed stiffly, and left the room before Fitz had time to say what terrible things "me and Choate" intended to do. The banker was evidently in the most uncomfortable frame of mind. He was nervous and uneasy. His step in the street was quick and sharp, as he walked to Phillimore Court. He did not expect to find André there, and he did not. But Maggie was a remarkably intelligent girl, open and truthful, and she would be less likely to veil any designs from him than one who had seen more of the world.
The banker tried to think what motive the barber could have for arraying himself against one who had done so much for him—one who had voluntarily paid his family the reward of five hundred dollars. It was possible that the Wittleworths had been at work upon André; that they had induced him to give evidence in support of their assertion that Marguerite was dead. Mr. Checkynshaw was a shrewd and deep man, in his own estimation, and he was confident, if any such scheme had been devised, he could fathom it. He rather preferred, therefore, to see the members of the family separately, and Maggie was the best one to begin with.
Mr. Checkynshaw was admitted to the parlor of the barber's home, and Maggie was the only person in the house with him; for Leo was at school, still determined, make or break, to obtain the medal. The fair girl blushed when she recognized the visitor, and, having heard that the Wittleworths had instituted the suit, she trembled with fear; for she suspected that the great man's coming related to that event.
"Maggie, I am sorry you and your father have been giving bad counsels to those Wittleworths," the banker began, in solemn tones, but apparently more in grief than in anger.
"Why, sir! Bad counsels?" exclaimed Maggie.
"I have given the Wittleworths money enough to keep them comfortable for the rest of their lives; but they are ungrateful, and are now seeking to annoy me as much as possible."
"I am very sorry."
"I thought I had done enough for your family to make you all my friends; but it seems I was mistaken," added the great man, sadly reproachful in his manner.
"I am sure, sir, we are very grateful to you, and would not willingly do anything to injure you," protested Maggie, warmly.
"Why did your father tell the Wittleworths, then, that he was employed in the cholera hospital in Paris?"