'Really,' says the uneasy little gentleman, 'really, Mrs Lammle, Ishould take it as a favour if you could excuse me from any further confidence. It has ever been one of the objects of my life--which, unfortunately, has not had many objects--to be inoffensive, and to keep out of cabals and interferences.'
Mrs Lammle, by far the more observant of the two, scarcely finds it necessary to look at Twemlow while he speaks, so easily does she read him.
'My postscript--to retain the term I have used'--says Mrs Lammle, fixing her eyes on his face, to enforce what she says herself--'coincides exactly with what you say, Mr Twemlow. So far from troubling you with any new confidence, I merely wish to remind you what the old one was. So far from asking you for interference, I merely wish to claim your strict neutrality.'
Twemlow going on to reply, she rests her eyes again, knowing her ears to be quite enough for the contents of so weak a vessel.
'I can, I suppose,' says Twemlow, nervously, 'offer no reasonable objection to hearing anything that you do me the honour to wish to say to me under those heads. But if I may, with all possible delicacy and politeness, entreat you not to range beyond them, I--Ibeg to do so.'
'Sir,' says Mrs Lammle, raising her eyes to his face again, and quite daunting him with her hardened manner, 'I imparted to you a certain piece of knowledge, to be imparted again, as you thought best, to a certain person.'
'Which I did,' says Twemlow.
'And for doing which, I thank you; though, indeed, I scarcely know why I turned traitress to my husband in the matter, for the girl is a poor little fool. I was a poor little fool once myself; I can find no better reason.' Seeing the effect she produces on him by her indifferent laugh and cold look, she keeps her eyes upon him as she proceeds. 'Mr Twemlow, if you should chance to see my husband, or to see me, or to see both of us, in the favour or confidence of any one else--whether of our common acquaintance or not, is of no consequence--you have no right to use against us the knowledge I intrusted you with, for one special purpose which has been accomplished. This is what I came to say. It is not a stipulation; to a gentleman it is simply a reminder.'
Twemlow sits murmuring to himself with his hand to his forehead.
'It is so plain a case,' Mrs Lammle goes on, 'as between me (from the first relying on your honour) and you, that I will not waste another word upon it.' She looks steadily at Mr Twemlow, until, with a shrug, he makes her a little one-sided bow, as though saying 'Yes, I think you have a right to rely upon me,' and then she moistens her lips, and shows a sense of relief.
'I trust I have kept the promise I made through your servant, that Iwould detain you a very few minutes. I need trouble you no longer, Mr Twemlow.'
'Stay!' says Twemlow, rising as she rises. 'Pardon me a moment. Ishould never have sought you out, madam, to say what I am going to say, but since you have sought me out and are here, I will throw it off my mind. Was it quite consistent, in candour, with our taking that resolution against Mr Fledgeby, that you should afterwards address Mr Fledgeby as your dear and confidential friend, and entreat a favour of Mr Fledgeby? Always supposing that you did; I assert no knowledge of my own on the subject; it has been represented to me that you did.'
'Then he told you?' retorts Mrs Lammle, who again has saved her eyes while listening, and uses them with strong effect while speaking.
'Yes.'
'It is strange that he should have told you the truth,' says Mrs Lammle, seriously pondering. 'Pray where did a circumstance so very extraordinary happen?'
Twemlow hesitates. He is shorter than the lady as well as weaker, and, as she stands above him with her hardened manner and her well-used eyes, he finds himself at such a disadvantage that he would like to be of the opposite sex.
'May I ask where it happened, Mr Twemlow? In strict confidence?'
'I must confess,' says the mild little gentleman, coming to his answer by degrees, 'that I felt some compunctions when Mr Fledgeby mentioned it. I must admit that I could not regard myself in an agreeable light. More particularly, as Mr Fledgeby did, with great civility, which I could not feel that I deserved from him, render me the same service that you had entreated him to render you.
It is a part of the true nobility of the poor gentleman's soul to say this last sentence. 'Otherwise,' he has reffected, 'I shall assume the superior position of having no difficulties of my own, while I know of hers. Which would be mean, very mean.
'Was Mr Fledgeby's advocacy as effectual in your case as in ours?'
Mrs Lammle demands.
'As ineffectual.'
'Can you make up your mind to tell me where you saw Mr Fledgeby, Mr Twemlow?'
'I beg your pardon. I fully intended to have done so. The reservation was not intentional. I encountered Mr Fledgeby, quite by accident, on the spot.--By the expression, on the spot, I mean at Mr Riah's in Saint Mary Axe.'
'Have you the misfortune to be in Mr Riah's hands then?'
'Unfortunately, madam,' returns Twemlow, 'the one money obligation to which I stand committed, the one debt of my life (but it is a just debt; pray observe that I don't dispute it), has fallen into Mr Riah's hands.'
'Mr Twemlow,' says Mrs Lammle, fixing his eyes with hers: which he would prevent her doing if he could, but he can't; 'it has fallen into Mr Fledgeby's hands. Mr Riah is his mask. It has fallen into Mr Fledgeby's hands. Let me tell you that, for your guidance. The information may be of use to you, if only to prevent your credulity, in judging another man's truthfulness by your own, from being imposed upon.'
'Impossible!' cries Twemlow, standing aghast. 'How do you know it?'
'I scarcely know how I know it. The whole train of circumstances seemed to take fire at once, and show it to me.'
'Oh! Then you have no proof.'
