The Way We Live Now (109 page)

He walked into Palace Yard and across it, to the door of Westminster Hall before he found out that Parliament was not sitting. ‘Oh, Wednesday! Of course it is,' he said, turning round and directing his steps towards Grosvenor Square. Then he remembered that in the morning he had declared his purpose of dining at home, and now he did not know what better use to make of the present evening. His house could hardly be very comfortable to him. Marie no doubt would keep out of his way, and he did not habitually receive much pleasure from his wife's company. But in his own house he could at least be alone. Then, as he walked slowly across the park, thinking so intently on matters as hardly to observe whether he himself were observed or no, he asked himself whether it still might not be best for him to keep the money which was settled on his daughter, to tell the Longestaffes that he could make no payment, and to face the worst that Mr Squercum could do to him – for he knew already how busy Mr Squercum was in the matter. Though they should put him on his trial for forgery, what of that' He had heard of trials in which the accused criminals had been heroes to the multitude while their cases were in progress – who had been feted from the beginning to the end though no one had doubted their guilt – and who had come out unscathed at the last. What evidence had they against him? It might be that the Longestaffes and Bideawhiles and Squercums should know that he was a forger, but their knowledge would not produce a verdict. He, as member for Westminster, as the man who had entertained the emperor, as the owner of one of the most gorgeous houses in London, as the great Melmotte, could certainly command the best half of the Bar. He already felt what popular support might do for him. Surely there need be no despondency while so good a hope remained to him! He did tremble as he remembered Dolly Longestaffe's letter, and the letter of the old man who was dead. And he knew that it was possible that other things might be adduced; but would it not be better to face it all than surrender his money and become a pauper, seeing, as he did very clearly, that even by such surrender he could not cleanse his character?

But he had given those forged documents into the hands of Mr Brehgert! Again he had acted in a hurry – without giving sufficient thought to the matter in hand. He was angry with himself for that also. But how is a man to give sufficient thought to his affairs when no step that he takes can be other than ruinous? Yes; – he had certainly put into Brehgert's hands means of proving him to have been absolutely guilty of forgery. He did not think that Marie would disclaim the signatures, even though she had refused to sign the deeds, when she should understand that her father had written her name; nor did he think that his clerk would be urgent against him, as the forgery of Croll's name could not injure Croll. But Brehgert, should he discover what had been done, would certainly not permit him to escape. And now he had put these forgeries without any guard into Brehgert's hands.

He would tell Brehgert in the morning that he had changed his mind. He would see Brehgert before any action could have been taken on the documents, and Brehgert would no doubt restore them to him. Then he would instruct his daughter to hold the money fast, to sign no paper that should be put before her, and to draw the income herself. Having done that, he would let his foes do their worst. They might drag him to gaol. They probably would do so. He had an idea that he could not be admitted to bail if accused of forgery. But he would bear all that. If convicted he would bear the punishment, still hoping that an end might come. But how great was the chance that they might fail to convict him! As to the dead man's letter, and as to Dolly Longestaffe's letter, he did not think that any sufficient evidence could be found. The evidence as to the deeds by which Marie was to have released the property was indeed conclusive; but he believed that he might still recover those documents. For the present it must be his duty to do nothing – when he should have recovered and destroyed those documents – and to live before the eyes of men as though he feared nothing.

He dined at home alone, in the study, and after dinner carefully went through various bundles of papers, preparing them for the eyes of those ministers of the law who would probably before long have the privilege of searching them. At dinner, and while he was thus employed, he drank a bottle of champagne – feeling himself greatly comforted by the process. If he could only hold up his head and look men in the face, he thought that he might still live through it all. How much had he done by his own unassisted powers! He had once been imprisoned for fraud at Hamburg, and had come out of gaol a pauper; friendless, with all his wretched antecedents against him. Now he was a member of the British
House of Parliament, the undoubted owner of perhaps the most gorgeously furnished house in London, a man with an established character for high finance – a commercial giant whose name was a familiar word on all the exchanges of the two hemispheres. Even though he should be condemned to penal servitude for life, he would not all die.
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He rang the bell and desired that Madame Melmotte might be sent to him, and bade the servant bring him brandy.

In ten minutes his poor wife came crawling into the room. Every one connected with Melmotte regarded the man with a certain amount of awe – every one except Marie, to whom alone he had at times been himself almost gentle. The servants all feared him, and his wife obeyed him implicitly when she could not keep away from him. She came in now and stood opposite to him, while he spoke to her. She never sat in his presence in that room. He asked her where she and Marie kept their jewellery – for during the last twelve months rich trinkets had been supplied to both of them. Of course she answered by another question. ‘Is anything going to happen, Melmotte?'

‘A good deal is going to happen. Are they here in this house, or in Grosvenor Square?'

‘They are here.'

‘Then have them all packed up – as small as you can; never mind about wool and cases and all that. Have them close to your hand, so that if you have to move you can take them with you. Do you understand?'

‘Yes; I understand.'

‘Why don't you speak, then?'

‘What is going to happen, Melmotte?'

‘How can I tell? You ought to know by this time that when a man's work is such as mine, things will happen. You'll be safe enough. Nothing can hurt you.'

‘Can they hurt you, Melmotte?'

‘Hurt me! I don't know what you call hurting. Whatever there is to be borne, I suppose it is I must bear it. I have not had it very soft all my life hitherto, and I don't think it's going to be very soft now.'

‘Shall we have to move?'

‘Very likely! Move! What's the harm of moving? You talk of moving as though that were the worst thing that could happen. How would you like to be in some place where they wouldn't let you move?'

‘Are they going to send you to prison?'

‘Hold your tongue.'

‘Tell me, Melmotte – are they going to?' Then the poor woman did sit down, overcome by her feelings.

‘I didn't ask you to come here for a scene,' said Melmotte. ‘Do as I bid you about your own jewels, and Marie's. The thing is to have them in small compass, and that you should not have it to do at the last moment, when you will be flurried and incapable. Now you needn't stay any longer, and it's no good asking any questions because I shan't answer them.' So dismissed, the poor woman crept out again, and immediately, after her own slow fashion, went to work with her ornaments.

Melmotte sat up during the greater part of the night, sometimes sipping brandy and water, and sometimes smoking. But he did no work, and hardly touched a paper after his wife left him.

Very early the next morning, very early that is for London life, Melmotte was told by a servant that Mr Croll had called and wanted to see him. Then it immediately became a question with him whether he wanted to see Croll. ‘Is it anything special?' he asked. The man thought that it was something special, as Croll had declared his purpose of waiting when told that Mr Melmotte was not as yet dressed. This happened at about nine o'clock in the morning. Melmotte longed to know every detail of Croll's manner – to know even the servant's opinion of the clerk's manner – but he did not dare to ask a question. Melmotte thought that it might be well to be gracious. ‘Ask him if he has breakfasted, and if not give him something in the study.' But Mr Croll had breakfasted and declined any further refreshment.

Nevertheless Melmotte had not as yet made up his mind that he would meet his clerk. His clerk was his clerk. It might perhaps be well that he should first go into the City and send word to Croll, bidding him wait for his return. Over and over again, against his will, the question of flying would present itself to him; but, though he discussed it within his own bosom in every form, he knew that he could not fly. And if he stood his ground – as most assuredly he would do – then must he not be afraid to meet any man, let the man come with what thunderbolts in his hand he might Of course sooner or later some man must come with a thunderbolt – and why not Croll as well as another? He stood against a
press in his chamber, with a razor in his hand, and steadied himself How easily might he put an end to it all! Then he rang his bell and desired that Croll might be shown up into his room.

The three or four minutes which intervened seemed to him to be very long. He had absolutely forgotten in his anxiety that the lather was still upon his face. But he could not smother his anxiety. He was fighting with it at every turn, but he could not conquer it. When the knock came at his door, he grasped at his own breast as though to support himself With a hoarse voice he told the man to come in, and Croll himself appeared, opening the door gently and very slowly. Melmotte had left the bag which contained the papers in possession of Mr Brehgert, and he now saw, at a glance, that Croll had got the bag in his hand – and could see also by the shape of the bag that the bag contained the papers. The man therefore had in his own hands, in his own keeping, the very documents to which his own name had been forged! There was no longer a hope, no longer a chance that Croll should be ignorant of what had been done. ‘Well, Croll,' he said with an attempt at a smile, ‘what brings you here so early?' He was pale as death, and let him struggle as he would, could not restrain himself from trembling.

‘Herr Brehgert vas vid me last night,' said Croll.

‘Eh!'

‘And he thought I had better bring these back to you. That's all.' Croll spoke in a very low voice, with his eyes fixed on his master's face, but with nothing of a threat in his attitude or manner.

‘Eh!' repeated Melmotte. Even though he might have saved himself from all coming evils by a bold demeanour at that moment, he could not assume it. But it all flashed upon him at a moment. Brehgert had seen Croll after he, Melmotte, had left the City, had then discovered the forgery, and had taken this way of sending back all the forged documents. He had known Brehgert to be of all men who ever lived the most good-natured, but he could hardly believe in pure good-nature such as this. It seemed that the thunderbolt was not yet to fall.

‘Mr Brehgert came to me,' continued Croll, ‘because one signature was wanting. It was very late, so I took them home with me. I said I'd bring them to you in the morning.'

They both knew that he had forged the documents, Brehgert and Croll; but how would that concern him, Melmotte, if these two friends had resolved together that they would not expose him? He had desired to get the documents back into his own hands, and here they were! Melmotte's immediate trouble arose from the difficulty of speaking in a
proper manner to his own servant who had just detected him in forgery. He couldn't speak. There were no words appropriate to such an occasion. ‘It vas a strong order, Mr Melmotte,' said Croll. Melmotte tried to smile, but only grinned. ‘I vill not be back in the Lane, Mr Melmotte.'

‘Not back at the office, Croll?'

‘I tink not – no. De leetle money coming to me, you will send it. Adieu.' And so Mr Croll took his final leave of his old master after an intercourse which had lasted twenty years. We may imagine that Herr Croll found his spirits to be oppressed and his capacity for business to be obliterated by his patron's misfortunes rather than by his patron's guilt. But he had not behaved unkindly. He had merely remarked that the forgery of his own name half-a-dozen times over was a ‘strong order'.

Melmotte opened the bag, and examined the documents one by one. It had been necessary that Marie should sign her name some half-dozen times, and Marie's father had made all the necessary forgeries. It had been of course necessary that each name should be witnessed – but here the forger had scamped his work. Croll's name he had written five times; but one forged signature he had left unattested! Again he had himself been at fault. Again he had aided his own ruin by his own carelessness. One seems inclined to think sometimes that any fool might do an honest business. But fraud requires a man to be alive and wide awake at every turn!

Melmotte had desired to have the documents back in his own hands, and now he had them. Did it matter much that Brehgert and Croll both knew the crime which he had committed? Had they meant to take legal steps against him they would not have returned the forgeries to his own hands. Brehgert, he thought, would never tell the tale – unless there should arise some most improbable emergency in which he might make money by telling it; but he was by no means so sure of Croll. Croll had signified his intention of leaving Melmotte's service, and would therefore probably enter some rival service, and thus become an enemy to his late master. There could be no reason why Croll should keep the secret. Even if he got no direct profit by telling it, he would curry favour by making it known. Of course Croll would tell it.