"This is awkward—very awkward," said Chichester, when the cloth was removed, and the two gentlemen were occupied with their wine.
"Awkward! I believe you," exclaimed the baronet. "Upon my honour, that Greenwood ought to be well thrashed!"
"He is an insufferable coxcomb," said Chichester.
"A conceited humbug," added the baronet.
"A self-sufficient fool," remarked Chichester.
"A consummate scoundrel," cried Sir Rupert.
"So he is," observed Chichester.
"But all this will not pay my bill," continued the baronet; "and where to obtain six hundred pounds, the deuce take me if I can tell."
"No—nor I either," said Chichester; "unless we get a couple of horses and ride down towards Hounslow upon a venture."
"You never can be serious, Chichester? What! turn highwaymen!"
"I was only joking. But do you really think that Greenwood will press you so hard?"
"He will send the bill to Lord Tremordyn's banker's to-morrow. Oh! I can assure you he was quite high about it, and pretended to forget all the circumstances that had led to the transaction. To every word I said, it was 'I don't recollect.' May the devil take him!"
"And so he has got you completely in his power?"
"Completely."
"And you would like to have your revenge?"
"Of course I should. But what is the use of talking in this manner? You know very well that I can do him no injury!"
"I am not quite so sure of that," said Chichester.
"What do you mean?" demanded the baronet. "I can see that there is something in your mind."
"I was only thinking. Suppose we accused him of something that he would not like exposed, and could not very well refute—an intrigue with any particular lady, for instance—"
"Ah! if we could—even though it were with my own wife," exclaimed the baronet. "And, by the bye, he is very intimate with Lady Cecilia."
"Of course he is," said Chichester drily. "Have you never noticed that before."
"It never struck me until now," observed the baronet.
"But it has struck me—frequently," added Chichester.
"And when I think of it," continued Sir Rupert Harborough, "he has often been here for an hour or two together; for I have gone out and left him with Lady Cecilia in the drawing-room; and when I have come back, he has been there still."
"Greenwood is not the man to waste his time at a lady's apron-strings for nothing."
"Chichester—you do not mean—"
"Oh! no—I mean nothing more than you choose to surmise."
"And what would you have me surmise?"
"I do not suppose," said Chichester, "that you care very much for Lady Cecilia."
"You are well aware of my feelings with regard to her."
"And out of all the money she has had lately—an affluence that you yourself have noticed more than once—she has never assisted you."
"No—never. And I have often puzzled myself to think whence came those supplies."
"You cannot suppose that either Lord or Lady Tremordyn replenish her purse?"
"Yes—I have thought so."
"Oh! very well; you know best;" and Chichester sipped his wine with an affected indifference which was in itself most eloquently significant.
"My dear fellow," said the baronet, after a pause, "I feel convinced that you have got some plan in your head, or else that you know more than you choose to say. In either case, Lady Cecilia is concerned. I have told you that I care not one fig about her—on my honour! Have the kindness, then, to speak without reserve."
"And then you may be offended," said Chichester.
"How absurd! Speak."
"What if I was to tell you that Lady Cecilia—"
"Well?"
"Is Greenwood's mistress!"
"The proof! the proof!" ejaculated the baronet.
"I myself saw them in each other's arms."
Sir Rupert Harborough's countenance grew deadly pale, and his lips quivered. He now revolted from the mere idea of what he had just before wished to be a fact.
"You remember the day that Greenwood called to acquaint us with his success at Rottenborough in March last?" said Chichester, after a pause. "You and I had been practising with the dice and cards; and we went out together."
"I recollect," exclaimed the baronet; "and you returned for the dice-boxes which you had left behind."
"It was upon that occasion. Greenwood followed me out of the drawing-room, and gave me a hundred pounds to keep the secret."
"True! you produced a hundred pounds immediately afterwards; and you said that Greenwood had lent you the amount. Why did you never tell me of this before?"
"The deuce! Is it a pleasant thing to communicate to a friend, Harborough? Besides, it always struck me that the discovery would one day or another be of some use."
"Of use indeed!" ejaculated the baronet. "And Lady Cecilia is Greenwood's mistress! Ah! that explains the restoration of her diamonds, as well as the improved condition of her finances. The false creature!"
"You must admit, Harborough," said Chichester, "that you have never been over attentive to your wife; and if—"
"Nonsense, my good fellow," interrupted the baronet sharply. "That is no excuse for a woman. A man may do what he chooses; but a woman—a wife—"
"Come, come—no moralizing," said Chichester. "It is all your own fault. Not one woman out of fifty would go wrong, if the husband behaved properly. But now that I have told you the secret, think what use you can make of it."
"I cannot see how the circumstance can serve me, without farther proof," remarked the baronet. "Ah! Lady Cecilia—what duplicity! what deceit!"
"Why not search her drawers—her boxes?" said Chichester. "She is absent; no one can interrupt you; and perhaps you may find a letter—"
"Excellent thought!" cried Sir Rupert; and, seizing a candle, he hurried from the room.
Twenty minutes elapsed, during which Mr. Chichester sate drinking his wine as comfortably as if he had done a good action, instead of revealing so fearful a secret to his friend.
At length Sir Rupert Harborough returned to the dining-room.
He was very pale; and there was something ghastly in his countenance, and sinister in the expression of his eyes.
"Well—any news?" inquired Chichester.
"No proof—not a note, not a letter," answered the baronet. "But I have found something," he added, with an hysterical kind of laugh, "that will answer my purpose for the moment better still."
"What is that?" asked his friend.
"Lady Cecilia's diamonds and other trinkets—presents, most likely, from Greenwood—together with ninety pounds in notes and gold."
"Capital!" cried Chichester. "You can now settle with Greenwood."
"Yes—I will pay him his six hundred pounds, renew for the remainder for three or four months, and then devise some plot to obtain undeniable proof of his amour with Lady Cecilia. But when I think of that woman, Chichester—not that she is any thing to me—still she is my wife—"
"Nonsense!