"Come, Greenwood," interrupted the baronet; "do not refuse me. I will give you a post-obit on the old lord: he is sure to leave me something handsome at his death."
"Yes—but he may settle it upon your wife in such a manner that you will not be able to touch it."
"Suppose that Lady Cecilia will join me in the security?"
"Insufficient still. Lord Tremordyn may bequeath her ladyship merely a life interest, without power to touch the capital."
"Well—what the devil can I do?" exclaimed the baronet, almost distracted. "Point out some means—lay down some plan—do any thing you like—but don't refuse some assistance."
Mr. Greenwood reflected for some minutes; and this time his thoughtful manner was not affected. It struck him that he might effect a certain arrangement in this instance by which he might get the baronet completely in his power, and lay out some money at an enormous interest at the same time.
"You see," said Mr. Greenwood, "you have not an atom of security to offer me."
"None—none," answered Sir Rupert: "I know of none—if you will not have the post-obit."
"The only means I can think of for the moment," pursued Mr. Greenwood, "is this:—Get me Lord Tremordyn's acceptance to a bill of fifteen hundred pounds at three months, and I will lend you a thousand upon it without an instant's delay."
"Lord Tremordyn's acceptance! Are you mad. Greenwood?"
"No—perfectly sane and serious. Of course I shall not call upon him to ask if it be his acceptance—neither shall I put the bill into circulation. It will be in my desk until it is due; and then—if you cannot pay it—"
"What then?" said the baronet, in a subdued tone, as if he breathed with difficulty.
"Why—you must get it renewed, that's all!" replied Mr. Greenwood.
"I understand you—I understand you," exclaimed Sir Rupert Harborough: "it shall be done! When can I see you again?"
"I shall not stir out for another hour."
"Then I shall return this afternoon."
And the baronet departed to forge the name of Lord Tremordyn to a bill of exchange for fifteen hundred pounds.
"I shall hold him in iron chains," said Greenwood to himself, when he was again alone. "This bill will hang constantly over his head. Should he detect my intrigue with his wife, he will not dare open his mouth; and when I am tired of that amour, and care no more for the beautiful Cecilia, I can obtain payment of the entire amount, with interest, from Lord Tremordyn himself; for his lordship will never allow his son-in-law to be ruined and lost for fifteen or sixteen hundred pounds."
Again the study door opened; and again did Lafleur make his appearance.
"A person, sir, who declines to give his name," said the valet, "solicits an interview for a few minutes."
"What sort of a looking person is he?"
"Very pale and sallow; about the middle height; genteel in appearance; respectably clad; and I should say about forty years of age."
"I do not recollect such a person. Show him up."
Lafleur withdrew, and presently introduced Stephens.
For a few moments Greenwood surveyed him in a manner as if he were trying to recollect to whom that pale and altered countenance belonged; for although Stephens had made considerable improvement in his attire, thanks to the contents of Eliza's purse, he still retained upon his features the traces of great suffering, mental and bodily.
"You do not know me?" he said, with a sickly smile.
"Stephens! is it possible?" exclaimed Greenwood, in an accent of the most profound surprise.
"Yes—it is I! No wonder that you did not immediately recognise me: were I not fearfully altered I should not dare thus to venture abroad by daylight."
"Ah! I understand. You have escaped?"
"I have returned from transportation. That is the exact truth. Had it not been for an angel in human shape, I should have died last night of starvation. That generous being who relieved me was Eliza Sydney."
"Eliza Sydney!" cried Greenwood. "She received you with kindness?"
"She gave me food, and money to obtain clothes and lodging. She moreover promised to supply me with the means to reach America. I am to return to her this evening, and receive a certain sum for that purpose."
"And she told you that I was residing here?" said Greenwood inquiringly.
"Yes. I thought that you might be enabled to assist me in my object of commencing the world anew in another quarter of the globe. I shall arrive there with but little money and no friends;—perhaps you can procure me letters of introduction to merchants in New York."
"I think I can assist you," said Greenwood, musing upon a scheme which he was revolving in his mind, and which was as yet only a few minutes old: "yes—I think I can. But, would it not be better for you to take out a few hundred pounds in your pocket? How can you begin any business in the States without capital?"
"Show me the way to procure those few hundreds," said Stephens, "and I would hold myself ever your debtor."
"And perhaps you would not be very particular as to the way in which you obtained such a sum?" demanded Greenwood, surveying the returned convict in a peculiar manner.
"My condition is too desperate to allow me to stick at trifles," answered Stephens, not shrinking from a glance which seemed to penetrate into his very soul.
"We understand each other," said Greenwood. "I have money—and you want money: you are a returned transport, and in my power. I can serve and save you; or I can ruin and crush you for ever."
"You speak candidly, at all events," observed Stephens, somewhat bitterly. "Try promises first; and should they fail, essay threats."
"I merely wished you to comprehend your true position with regard to me," said Greenwood, coolly.
"And now I understand it but too well. You require of me some service of a certain nature—no matter what: in a word, I agree to the bargain."
"The business regards Eliza Sydney," proceeded Greenwood.
"Eliza Sydney!" exclaimed Stephens, in dismay.
"Yes; I love her—and she detests me. I must therefore gratify two passions at the same moment—vengeance and desire."
"Impossible!" cried Stephens. "You can never accomplish your schemes through my agency!"
"Very good:" and Mr. Greenwood moved towards the bell.
"What would you do?" demanded Stephens, in alarm.
"Summon my servants to hand a returned convict over to justice," answered Greenwood, coolly.
"Villain! you could not do it!"
"I will do it:" and Greenwood placed his hand upon the bell-rope.
"Oh! no—no—that must not be!" exclaimed Stephens. "Speak—I will do your bidding."
Mr. Greenwood returned to his seat.
"I must possess Eliza Sydney—and you must be the instrument," he said in his usual calm and measured tone. "You are to return to her this evening?"
"I am. But I implore you—"
"Silence! This evening I am engaged—and to-morrow evening also. The day after to-morrow I shall be at liberty. You will invent some excuse which will enable you to postpone your departure; and you will contrive to pass the evening after to-morrow with Eliza Sydney. Can you do this?"
"I can, no doubt: but, again, I beg—"
"No