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They passed on in silence for a few steps, till Crawley spoke again. "Perhaps you will allow me the privilege to be alone with her for one minute, but for a minute. Her thanks shall not be delayed, where thanks are so richly due." "Of course," said Toogood, wiping his eyes with a large red bandana handkerchief. "By all means. We'll take a little walk. Come along, major."
Mr Walker had invited Dr Tempest and Miss Anne Prettyman and Major Grantly to meet Mr Toogood, and had explained, in a manner intended to be half earnest and half jocose, that though Mr Toogood was an attorney, like himself, and was at this moment engaged in a noble way on behalf of his cousin's husband, without any idea of receiving back even the money which he would be out of pocket, still he wasn't quite, not quite, you know "not quite so much of a gentleman as I am," Mr Walker would have said, had he spoken out freely that which he insinuated.
But as John Eames was rather a great man at the Income-tax Office, Summerkin would not fall into his sweetheart's joke on this subject, finding it easier and perhaps safer to twiddle the bodkins in Polly's work-basket. Then Toogood and Mrs Toogood entered the room together, and the lovers were able to be alone again during the general greetings with which Johnny was welcomed.
I am, indeed, very glad. I do not know that I ever pitied a man so much in my life as I have pitied Mr Crawley." "It must have been a hard case when it has moved him," said Mr Walker to Mr Toogood as they left the clergyman's house; and then the Silverbridge attorney saw the attorney from London home to his inn.
But he contented himself with the emphasis he put upon the "not quite," which expressed his meaning fully. And Mr Walker was correct in his opinion of Mr Toogood. As regards the two attorneys I will not venture to say that either of them was not a "perfect gentleman". A perfect gentleman is a thing which I cannot define.
Toogood had no notion if Master Busy had ever discovered anything of interest in the neighborhood of that pavilion, and he was quite, quite sure that the saintly man had never dared to venture inside that archaic building, which had the reputation of being haunted; still, he was over-gratified to perceive that the petty constable was vastly interested in his tale in spite of these obvious defects in its completeness and that, moreover, Master Pyot showed no signs of turning on his heel, but continued to trudge along the gloomy road in company with Sir Marmaduke's youngest serving-man.
"As far as I can judge, Crawley still thinks, or half thinks, that he got the cheque from your son-in-law." Mr Harding shook his head sorrowfully. "I'm not saying he did, you know," continued Mr Toogood. "I can't see myself how it is possible; but still, we ought not to leave any stone unturned. And Mrs Arabin, can you tell me at all where we shall find her?"
There was a notification of a house dinner, which he was asked to join, at his club, and a card for an evening gathering at Lady Glencora Palliser's, procured for him by his friend Conway, and an invitation for dinner at the house of his uncle, Mr Toogood; and there was a scented note in the handwriting of a lady, which he did not recognise.
"Look here, sir"; and Stringer showed his visitor the chalk stones in all his knuckles. "They say I'm a mass of chalk. I sometimes think they'll break me up to mark the scores behind my own door with." And Mr Stringer laughed at his own wit. Mr Toogood laughed too. He laughed loud and cheerily.
"Mr Stringer," said he, "how do you pay your rent, and to whom do you pay it?" There was immediately a jerk in the hat, and then it disappeared. Toogood, stepping to the open door, saw that the red-nosed clerk had taken his hat off and was very busy at his accounts. "How do I pay my rent?" said Mr Stringer, the landlord.
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