For three hours the turmoil was tremendous. He was given into custody, went before a magistrate, was charged with felonious embezzlement, produced his books and the balance, which he declared himself ready to hand over to a properly constituted person appointed by the society itself, satisfied the magistrate that he was a grossly ill-used individual, was discharged, and obtained subsequently, a list of persons, who, having called him with great truth and justice, a rogue and swindler, he instructed Scorper, to proceed against them all, for defaming his precious character.
Mr. Chewkle had a deep motive in all this. He knew sufficient of human nature to be aware that his present triumph, coupled with the actions at law, would cause people who had been busy in talking about him, speculating on his movements, or wondering to their friends what he was up to, to take no further notice of him whatever—to drop him, as he said to himself, “as if he was a hot ’tatur.”
He was going in now for a desperate stake, and he was especially anxious that his future movements should not attract attention.
He was pretty fairly acquainted with the nature of the property Grahame would obtain by the death of Maybee, or of Wilton, provided the latter had no son living. He speculated at first, whether he should gain most by keeping his word with Grahame, or by revealing all he knew to Wilton. But a little reflection soon decided him, that he could obtain more continuous gifts from Grahame than Wilton, because he should be able to put on a screw with the former by constant threats, while with the latter, it would be only by appeals to his gratitude, that he should be able occasionally, to obtain money after the first reward. He knew that men soon grow tired of being grateful when it costs them money—he did himself—so feeling a pretty sure conviction that he should be able by the pressure of threats to draw the largest income from Grahame, he decided upon adhering to his course, even though it laid the crime of murder upon his soul.
The spirit of acquisitiveness was, however, strong within him. It was evident to him that money was to be extracted from Wilton, by holding out the alluring promise of producing the missing evidence, necessary to secure to him the large property now in the clutches of Chancery. He might even go to the length of mentioning the name of Maybee, and other particulars, necessary to prove his ability to perform his promise, before he put the poor old prisoner out of the way of being produced by anybody.
Now he knew from two or three sources, that Nathan
Gomer had interested himself much in Wilton’s affairs no doubt, as Chewkle surmised, at a swinging profit; and it suggested itself to him that he would be the man to apply to in the matter; Nathan would listen to him with a ready ear, because no doubt profit was to be made out of the transaction; and Nathan had the ear of Wilton, so that what he suggested was likely to be carried out.
Accordingly Mr. Chewkle, one evening, directed his steps to the chambers of the remarkable little saffronfaced dwarf.
Mr. Chewkle had no favourable opinion of the individual he was about to visit; he had an uncomfortable sense that the satellites of Satan were, on certain conditions, permitted to visit the earth, to lure men to perdition, and that Nathan was one of the demoniacal crew. He pshaw’d the notion with a grim laugh every time it presented itself, but he could not drive the impression away.
In one of the dreariest bye-lanes in the city of London there is a narrow passage leading into what may be termed a duodecimo square. It contains twelve houses, the floors of which are let out in chambers; that is to say, they would be if tenants were rife; but only a few can boast of being occupied.