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Updated: May 24, 2025
"And what has become of the business?" "It belongs to Mrs Van Siever, to her and Musselboro. Poor Broughton had some little money, and it has gone among them. Musselboro, who never had a penny, will be a rich man. Of course you know that he is going to marry Clara?" "Nonsense!" "I always told you that it would be so.
"I know nothing about civility with things as they are at present," said Broughton. "Civil by ! There's nothing so civil as paying money when you owe it. Musselboro, reach me down the decanter and some glasses. Perhaps Mr Crosbie will wet his whistle." "He don't want any wine, nor you either," said Musselboro.
He knew of the Van Sievers, and he knew of the Demolines, and he almost knew that there was no other woman within reach whom he was entitled to regard as closely connected with Mrs Broughton. He was well aware that the anonymous letter of which Musselboro had just spoken had come from Miss Demolines, and he could not go there for sympathy and assistance.
Now, at the moment, he would have been glad to get it from Mr Musselboro, without further words, for twenty. Things had much changed with Adolphus Crosbie when he was driven to make morning visits to such a one as Mr Musselboro with the view of having a bill renewed for two hundred and fifty pounds. In his early life he had always had the merit of being a careful man as to money.
"Why don't you go to your bankers?" said Musselboro. "I never did ask my bankers for anything of the kind." "Then you should try what your credit with them is worth," said Broughton. "It isn't worth much here, as you can perceive. Ha, ha, ha!"
Mr Mortimer Gazebee had in this way entangled Mr Crosbie in his web on behalf of those noble spiders, the De Courcys, and our poor friend, in his endeavour to fight his way through the web, had fallen into the hands of the Hook Court firm of Mrs Van Siever, Dobbs Broughton, and Musselboro. "Mr Broughton told me when I was last here," said Crosbie, "that there would be no difficulty about it."
Mr Dobbs Broughton and Mr Musselboro were sitting together on a certain morning at their office in the City, discussing the affairs of their joint business.
The names of Dobbs Broughton and of A. Musselboro, the Christian name of Mr Musselboro was Augustus, were on one of those dirty posts, not joined together by any visible "and", so as to declare boldly that they were partners; but in close vicinity, showing at least that the two gentlemen would be found in apartments very near to each other.
Of late, however, Mr Dobbs Broughton had become a little too rough in his language, and things had gone uncomfortably. She suspected that Conway Dalrymple was not the only cause of all this. She had an idea that Mr Musselboro and Mrs Van Siever had it in their power to make themselves unpleasant, and that they were exercising this power.
It was not really the fact that Mrs Van Siever was so very aged, for she had still some years to live before she would reach eighty, but that she was such a weird old woman, so small, so ghastly, and so ugly! "I'll sew him up, if he's been robbing me," she said. "I will, indeed!" And she stretched out her hand to grab at the ledger which Musselboro had been using.
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