The Way We Live Now Anthony Trollope (classic books for 11 year olds .txt) 📖

so managed that he should appear as the destroying angel of this offensive dragon. So Squercum raged among the Bideawhiles, who were unable altogether to shut their doors against him. They could not dare to bid defiance to Squercum⁠—feeling that they had themselves blundered, and feeling also that they must be careful not to seem to screen a fault by a falsehood. “I suppose you give it up about the letter having been signed by my client,” said Squercum to the elder of the two younger Bideawhiles.

“I give up nothing and I assert nothing,” said the superior attorney. “Whether the letter be genuine or not we had no reason to believe it to be otherwise. The young gentleman’s signature is never very plain, and this one is about as like any other as that other would be like the last.”

“Would you let me look at it again, Mr. Bideawhile?” Then the letter which had been very often inspected during the last ten days was handed to Mr. Squercum. “It’s a stiff resemblance;⁠—such as he never could have written had he tried it ever so.”

“Perhaps not, Mr. Squercum. We are not generally on the lookout for forgeries in letters from our clients or our clients’ sons.”

“Just so, Mr. Bideawhile. But then Mr. Longestaffe had already told you that his son would not sign the letter.”

“How is one to know when and how and why a young man like that will change his purpose?”

“Just so, Mr. Bideawhile. But you see after such a declaration as that on the part of my client’s father, the letter⁠—which is in itself a little irregular perhaps⁠—”

“I don’t know that it’s irregular at all.”

“Well;⁠—it didn’t reach you in a very confirmatory manner. We’ll just say that. What Mr. Longestaffe can have been at to wish to give up his title-deeds without getting anything for them⁠—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Squercum, but that’s between Mr. Longestaffe and us.”

“Just so;⁠—but as Mr. Longestaffe and you have jeopardised my client’s property it is natural that I should make a few remarks. I think you’d have made a few remarks yourself, Mr. Bideawhile, if the case had been reversed. I shall bring the matter before the Lord Mayor, you know.” To this Mr. Bideawhile said not a word. “And I think I understand you now that you do not intend to insist on the signature as being genuine.”

“I say nothing about it, Mr. Squercum. I think you’ll find it very hard to prove that it’s not genuine.”

“My client’s oath, Mr. Bideawhile.”

“I’m afraid your client is not always very clear as to what he does.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that, Mr. Bideawhile. I fancy that if I were to speak in that way of your client you would be very angry with me. Besides, what does it all amount to? Will the old gentleman say that he gave the letter into his son’s hands, so that, even if such a freak should have come into my client’s head, he could have signed it and sent it off? If I understand, Mr. Longestaffe says that he locked the letter up in a drawer in the very room which Melmotte occupied, and that he afterwards found the drawer open. It won’t, I suppose, be alleged that my client knew so little what he was about that he broke open the drawer in order that he might get at the letter. Look at it whichever way you will, he did not sign it, Mr. Bideawhile.”

“I have never said he did. All I say is that we had fair ground for supposing that it was his letter. I really don’t know that I can say anything more.”

“Only that we are to a certain degree in the same boat together in this matter.”

“I won’t admit even that, Mr. Squercum.”

“The difference being that your client by his fault has jeopardised his own interests and those of my client, while my client has not been in fault at all. I shall bring the matter forward before the Lord Mayor tomorrow, and as at present advised shall ask for an investigation with reference to a charge of fraud. I presume you will be served with a subpoena to bring the letter into court.”

“If so you may be sure that we shall produce it.” Then Mr. Squercum took his leave and went straight away to Mr. Bumby, a barrister well known in the City. The game was too powerful to be hunted down by Mr. Squercum’s unassisted hands. He had already seen Mr. Bumby on the matter more than once. Mr. Bumby was inclined to doubt whether it might not be better to get the money, or some guarantee for the money. Mr. Bumby thought that if a bill at three months could be had for Dolly’s share of the property it might be expedient to take it. Mr. Squercum suggested that the property itself might be recovered, no genuine sale having been made. Mr. Bumby shook his head. “Title-deeds give possession, Mr. Squercum. You don’t suppose that the company which has lent money to Melmotte on the title-deeds would have to lose it. Take the bill; and if it is dishonoured run your chance of what you’ll get out of the property. There must be assets.”

“Every rap will have been made over,” said Mr. Squercum.

This took place on the Monday, the day on which Melmotte had offered his full confidence to his proposed son-in-law. On the following Wednesday three gentlemen met together in the study in the house in Bruton Street from which it was supposed that the letter had been abstracted. There were Mr. Longestaffe, the father, Dolly Longestaffe, and Mr. Bideawhile. The house was still in Melmotte’s possession, and Melmotte and Mr. Longestaffe were no longer on friendly terms. Direct application for permission to have this meeting in this place had been formally made to Mr. Melmotte, and he had complied. The meeting took place at eleven o’clock⁠—a terribly early hour. Dolly had at first hesitated as to placing himself as he thought between the fire of two enemies, and Mr. Squercum had told him that as the matter would probably soon be made public, he could not judiciously refuse to