Among such confidences Gordon allowed it to escape from him that were he to become married in England, he did not think it probable that he should return. Thus it was known, at least to his partner, that he was going to look for a wife, and the desire in Mr Tookey's breast that the wife might be forthcoming was intense. "Well!" he said, immediately on Gordon's return to London.

"What does 'well' mean?"

"Of course you went down there to look after the lady."

"I have never told you so."

"But you did--did you not?"

"I have told you nothing about any lady, though you are constantly asking questions. As a fact, I think I shall go back next month."

"To Kimberley?"

"I think so. The stake I have there is of too great importance to be abandoned."

"I have the money ready to pay over;--absolute cash on the nail. You don't call that abandoning it?"

"The claim has gone up in value 25 per cent, as you have already heard."

"Yes; it has gone up a little, but not so much as that. It will come down as much by the next mail. With diamonds you never can stick to anything."

"That's true. But you can only go by the prices as you see them quoted. They may be up 25 per cent again by next mail. At any rate, I am going back."

"The devil you are!"

"That's my present idea. As I like to be on the square with you altogether, I don't mind saying that I have booked a berth by the _Kentucky Castle_."

"The deuce you have! And you won't take a wife with you?"

"I am not aware that I shall have such an impediment."

Then Fitzwalker Tookey a.s.sumed a very long face. It is difficult to trace the workings of such a man's mind, or to calculate the meagre chances on which he is too often driven to base his hopes of success.

He feared that he could not show his face in Kimberley, unless as the representative of the whole old Stick-in-the-Mud. And with that object he had declared himself in London to have the actual power of disposing of Gordon's shares. Gordon had gone down to Hampshire, and would no doubt be successful with the young lady. At any rate,--as he described it to himself,--he had "gone in for that." He could see his way in that direction, but in no other. "Upon my word, this, you know, is--what I call--rather throwing a fellow over."

"I am as good as my word."

"I don't know about that, Gordon."

"But I do, and I won't hear any a.s.sertion to the contrary. I offered you the shares for a certain price, and you rejected them."

"I did not do that."

"You did do that,--exactly. Then there came up in my mind a feeling that I might probably wish to change my purpose."

"And I am to suffer for that."

"Not in the least. I then told you that you should still have the shares for the price named. But I did not offer them to any one else.

So I came home,--and you chose to come with me. But before I started, and again after, I told you that the offer did not hold good, and that I should not make up my mind as to selling till after I got to England."

"We understood that you meant to be married."

"I never said so. I never said a word about marriage. I am now going back, and mean to manage the mine myself."

"Without asking me?"

"Yes; I shall ask you. But I have two-thirds. I will give you for your share 10 per cent more than the price you offered me for each of my shares. If you do not like that, you need not accept the offer; but I don't mean to have any more words about it."

Mr Fitzwalker Tookey's face became longer and longer, and he did in truth feel himself to be much aggrieved within his very soul. There were still two lines of conduct open to him. He might move the stern man by a recapitulation of the sorrow of his circ.u.mstances, or he might burst out into pa.s.sionate wrath, and lay all his ruin to his partner's doing. He might still hope that in this latter way he could rouse all Kimberley against Gordon, and thus creep back into some vestige of property under the shadow of Gordon's iniquities. He would try both. He would first endeavour to move the stern man to pity. "I don't think you can imagine the condition in which you are about to place me."

"I can't admit that I am placing you anywhere."

"I'll just explain. Of course I know that I can tell you everything in strictest confidence."

"I don't know it at all."

"Oh yes; I can. You remember the story of my poor wife?"

"Yes; I remember."

"She's in London now."

"What! She got back from the Portuguese settlement?"

"Yes. She did not stay there long. I don't suppose that the Portuguese are very nice people."

"Perhaps not."

"At any rate they don't have much money among them."

"Not after the lavish expenditure of the diamond-fields," suggested Gordon.

"Just so. Poor Matilda had been accustomed to all that money could buy for her. I never used to be close-fisted with her, though sometimes I would be tight."

"As far as I could understand, you never used to agree at all."

"I don't think we did hit it off. Perhaps it was my fault."

"You used to be a little free in your way of living."

"I was. I confess that I was so. I was young then, but I am older now. I haven't touched a B. and S. before eleven o'clock since I have been in London above two or three times. I do mean to do the best I can for my young family." It was the fact that Mr Tookey had three little children boarding out in Kimberley.

"And what is the lady doing in London?"

"To tell the truth, she's at my lodgings."

"Oh--h!"

"I do admit it. She is."