THE FORGER.
In a few days Mrs Griffith Jenkins arrived in London, equally surprised
and delighted by the invitation she had received from her son and
daughter-in-law. Netta kept her word, and behaved to her with all the
kindness and consideration she could assume. She took her to various
places of amusement, and tried to find pleasure herself in scenes that a
few years before would have given her great delight; but the forebodings
of coming evil hung heavily over her, and she could not rouse herself
into her old spirits. Howel was very kind to her when with her; but
after that one white day he was not much at home. He went out once or
twice with her and his mother in the evening, and was so very attentive
to the latter that she began to think herself a person of consideration
once more.
'There's kind Howels is, Netta, fach!' she would say. 'There's proud you
ought to be to be having such a kind husband. But he don't be looking
well, nor you neither. You was looking as pale as those wox figures at
Mrs Tuss's; and seure won was as like you as could be. Ach a fi! I
'ouldn't like to be going again into that little room with all the
murderers. And Howel was looking quite pale. But such beauty music, and
dresses, and all like life. I thought I should a-screeked out when that
man turned and looked at me, and wogged his head, and was nodding, is
seure as if he was alive, and he only wox!'
Mrs Jenkins had been in London about a week, when Howel began
carelessly the subject nearest his heart.
'I say, mother, fach, how does your money hold out? I daresay you are
rich as a Jew by this time.'
'Pretty well, Howel. I hope you do be well off now, and don't be living
so gay as you wos.'
'Well, mother, if I could just get a few thousands for a couple of weeks
I should be as rich as Croesus, and out of all those difficulties I told
you of in another month. Do you know of any one likely to have such a
sum to lend?'
'Thousands, Howel! why hundreds wasn't plenty with us, let alone
thousands. You do know that there don't be any wan so rich as you in our
parts.'
'So I am, mother, or rather shall be by-and-by. I have lived beyond my
income, but I am going to retrench, and if you could only lend me five
or six thousands pounds, it would set me right, and I could pay you
again in a month.'
'Five or six thousand! Why, Howel, I 'ouldn't know how to get it; and I
don't cheuse to be reuining myself, and bringing myself down again for
nobody.'
'Not even for me, mother? To save me from jail, perhaps! Ha! ha! I'm
sure you wouldn't like to see me in jail; and 'pon my honour I don't
know how I shall keep out of it unless you help me.'
'And where's the thousands and hundreds of thousands your father was
leaving you? Ten years ago come next Jeune he did die, my poor Griffey.'
'Now, mother, don't humbug me about that. You know you were glad enough.
Only let me have the money, unless you want me to leave the country,
never to come back.'
'Ach an wyr! How you be talking. You wos frightening me to death. I
'ouldn't mind lending you a few hundreds, but--'
'Hundreds won't do, mother. I must have five thousand six hundred before
this week is out, or else--It is impossible you could be cruel enough to
see your only son in distress, and not help him out of it.'
'I have been helping you all your life, Howel. I could lend you wan
thousand, and no more, and if you'll promise to be paying me soon.'
'One thousand six hundred, mother, I must have that at least.'
It would be waste of time to write the reasons urged by Howel to induce
his mother to advance him this money; but after some hours of entreaty,
and a promise from him that he would repay it shortly, she consented to
write the necessary cheque for that sum. She insisted upon the business
being managed through Mr Rice Rice, her attorney at home, and wrote to
him to empower him to raise it as he best could for her son at once.
As she was a poor scribe, and a still worse orthographer, Howel
superintended the letter, and when it was written said he would enclose
and post it. He was most particular in telling her where and how to
write the figures; and before the ink was dry begged her to go to a
davenport, which stood at the other end of the room, for a stamp.
No sooner was her back turned towards him, than with the same pen and
ink he made the straight figure _one_ into a _four_, and in the cheque
which she had written, as well as in the accompanying letter, four
thousand six hundred pounds held the place that one thousand six hundred
had held when Mrs Griffith Jenkins left the table to go to the
davenport.
If Howel trembled, or if his conscience smote him when he did this
dreadful deed, he did not let his mother see it.
'Perhaps, after all, you had better direct the letter, mother,' he said,
as he finished sealing it. 'If I do it it will look as if I thought you
couldn't write, and you really write just as well as any other lady of
your age. I am really very much obliged to you.'
When Howel carried the letter out of the room, and went for a few
moments into another, he said to himself, 'I can pay the whole back
after the races, and manage so as to prevent her knowing anything about
it. And if the worst come to the worst, I must tell her what I did. She
won't expose me; it will be a furious quarrel, and then all will be
over. We must keep her here for a long time, and I must get hold of her
letters first and read them to her, and alter them if necessary. Now I
must look about for another thousand pounds.'
In due course of time the money was procured for Mrs Jenkins, and paid
into a London bank. Howel took possession of the letter of advice
concerning it, and told his mother he had opened it because she was out
when it arrived, and he had not a moment to lose in obtaining the money
from the bank. He kissed her, and talked to her, and hurried her and
Netta to dress for a drive in the park with him, until he made her
forget to obtain possession of the letter, and so far his fraud
prospered.
A few mornings after he had received the money, he had a note from Mr
Deep, containing the intelligence of the return from abroad of Sir
Samuel Spendall, and that his attorneys were investigating his affairs.
As soon as he received this note, he went by a succession of omnibuses
to the east of London, and, as it chanced, into his brother-in-law's
parish. In this parish there was a wretched-looking suburb, inhabited
principally by Jews, whose houses were, unlike the whited sepulchres
metaphorically used in scripture to describe the hearts of their race,
most unclean without, but magnificent within. Into many of these
dwellings Howel went in the hope of raising money, but without success.
His credit was at zero.
In a desolate, but somewhat more respectable-looking house of the same
parish, he hired a couple of rooms, giving his name as Mr Mills, and
paying a week's rent in advance.
He was walking up this street, looking for a cab, when he was suddenly
accosted by his brother-in-law, Rowland Prothero.
'You are coming to see me, Howel, I am so glad,' said Rowland, as they
shook hands.
'Not to-day; I am here on a little business, and in a great hurry.'
Howel walked on, but Rowland accompanied him.
'You were all out when I called yesterday,' said Rowland, 'and I
particularly wanted to see you, Howel. When will you be at home?'
'It is impossible to say.'
'It is on your own account; it is about Sir Samuel Spendall that I wish
to speak.'
Howel turned pale, and stood still for a moment, looking round him as he
did so to see that no one was listening.
'What of him?'
'Sir Philip told me that he had been heard to say he would dispute your
right to his property, for you had acquired it by unfair means.'
'The scoundrel!' cried Howel, turning pale. 'You have always something
agreeable to communicate when we do meet. It is well it is so seldom, Mr
Rowland Prothero.'
'Oh, Howel! hear me whilst it is yet time, and clear yourself from the
imputations to which I cannot shut my ears. My eyes, alas! have been
long opened, and I would have helped you, but neither Netta nor you will
listen.'
'Cab!' shouted Howel, and a cab drew up, and Howel jumped into it, with
a 'good morning,' leaving Rowland looking mournfully after it.
The next morning Rowland was at Howel's house very early. He found Netta
alone, and heard from her that Howel had not been at home since the
previous morning. She had had a line from him telling her that he was
going with Mr Deep to Greenwich.
Netta looked ill and anxious. Rowland entreated her to tell him freely
what made her so unhappy. He said he did not wish to interfere between
her and her husband, only to advise her for her good.
Netta burst into tears, and said that Howel was very kind now, but that
she feared there was something on his mind. She knew they were in debt,
but that Howel told her all would soon be right.
Rowland begged her to come to him if she were in any difficulty; assured
her of his brotherly love and deep interest in her; pointed out her path
of duty to her, and urged her to be patient with her husband whatever
might happen, and to endeavour to win him to better courses; then left
her with a heavy heart and a promise to return on the morrow. He was
obliged to be at home that evening for a service in the church.
Late at night Howel returned, anxious and pale. Netta and Mrs Griffey
had been to see Albert Smith's entertainment, and the latter was in a
great state of descriptive excitement, when Howel interrupted her by
saying,--
'Mother, I am very sorry to seem so unkind and inhospitable, but I am
afraid I must ask you to return home to-morrow.'
'To-morrow! I am feeling too tired to be up in time to-morrow, and,
seure! if you 'on't give your own mother a home for as long as she do
like to stay, there's my Lady Simpson who is asking me there, and--'
'Impossible, mother, I must see you off for Wales. I am in great trouble
about money, and I must leave to-morrow myself or shall be in jail.'
'Name o' goodness, Howel, what wos you doing with what I did give you?'
'Never mind; only, if anything is said to you about that money by any
one, take care what you say in answer. Don't answer at all, indeed, or
it may ruin you and me. Now you must pack up your things to be ready for
the first train. Tell the servants--I will--that you are summoned home
by a telegraphic message.'
Howel impelled his mother upstairs, and then said to Netta, who was
standing looking very pale, with her hand on her heart,--
'Netta, you must fill your pockets, and every corner of your dress that
will contain them, with such jewels and plate as are of value. Money, I
fear, there is none, unless my mother has any. Send the servants to bed,
and do this when all is quiet. I am liable to be arrested for debt, and
do not know when it may or may not take place. Have a cab to-morrow
morning, and send my mother to the station; then take Minette, at your
usual hour, through the park to Hyde Park Corner. Start about ten. I
will meet you. I must not stay here to-night; indeed, I must not stay
longer.'
Netta threw her arms round Howel's neck, and entreated him not to leave
her.
'Netta, don't be a fool! You don't want to ruin me, do you?'
Netta withdrew her arms, and stood like a statue before Howel.
'You needn't look so frightened? it will be all right in a few weeks.
To-morrow at ten, remember.'
Howel kissed her, and again left the house.
Poor Netta set about the work that was appointed her mechanically. First
of all, however, she went into her mother-in-law's room, and assisted
her to pack. Mrs Griffey was by turns indignant, alarmed, and sorrowful;
but finding that she must depart, and that some real difficulty existed,
she made no further resistance. Seeing that Netta had literally no
money, she gave her a ten-pound note, under a faithful promise that she
would not transfer it to Howel.
'He do be very good-for-nothing, Netta, and have been spending money
enough to buy half London. Tak' you care of this, and write you to me.
You was very good to me since I was come here.'
The kind word was too much for Netta, and she sat down and cried
bitterly. Mrs Griffey tried to comfort her by crying too, and so the
night waned away.
The following morning the cab was sent for, according to Howel's order,
and a man-servant ordered to accompany Mrs Griffith Jenkins to the
station and see her off. Netta had never believed it possible that she
could have cried at parting with her mother-in-law; but after she left
the house she wrung her hands in despair, and wept as if she had lost
her last earthly friend.
Still, she thought, Howel is kind, and loves me, so I will not mind what
else happens.
She ordered Justine to dress Minette, whilst she hurriedly finished such
preparations as she could make for her uncertain future. She found that
all Howel's jewels were already gone, so she had only to fill her
pockets and a bag with the best of her own and some plate and lock her
drawers. She took it for granted that Howel wanted the jewels for
himself, and that she would be obliged, when she returned home, to
secure other things.
As she took Minette by the hand, and led her along the handsome square
in which they lived, she saw two men look at her very intently, and then
exchange some words apparently about her. In former days, when her
bright colour and pretty face attracted the notice of passers-by, this
would only have pleased her; now it frightened her.
Before they reached Hyde Park Corner Howel hailed her from a cab.
'Netta, would you rather go into Wales to my mother or come with me?'
said Howel.
'With you, Howel, anywhere, not into Wales for the world.'
Howel leaned back into a corner of the cab, and did not speak again.
Netta did not know where they went, but they got into four cabs in
succession, driving a certain distance in one, then paying the driver,
then walking into another street and hailing a fresh vehicle.
At last they reached the far east of London, and found themselves in a
dirty, wretched street, amongst a squalid population.
'Give me the bag, and take care of your pocket,' said Howel, as they
walked along the pavement. 'Keep close to me.'
They reached the house where Howel had taken a lodging the previous day.
He walked through the passage, and bade his wife and child follow him;
ascended two pair of stairs, and entered a large and tolerably
respectable room.
There was a letter on the table, which he opened at once. It contained
the following lines:--
'The double S are comparing notes, and various rumours are in
circulation amongst that set.'
He put the letter in his pocket, and, turning to Netta, told her to go
into the bedroom and take off her own and Minette's bonnet, as they must
stay for a little while where they were.
'Not here, papa,' said Minette, beginning to cry. 'I don't like this
place.'
'Hold your tongue!' said her father sternly, as Netta led her out of the
room.
'Netta,' whispered Howel, 'our name is Mills here--just for a time
only.'
When Netta went into the close, dark bedroom at the back of the
sitting-room, she took off her sobbing child's things, set her on her
lap, and by degrees soothed her to sleep. She laid her on such a bed as
she had assuredly never slept on before, and then returned to Howel.
She stood before him pale and resolute. He was pacing the room rapidly,
and muttering to himself.
'Howel, I must know all! What is the matter? What is to become of us?'
she said.
'We must not be seen by our friends for a time, dear Netta, because I
am liable to be arrested. Will you mind staying here a day or two alone?
I must go away for a short time on business but will return and remove
you when it is settled. You are better here than at home, as everything
will be seized. You are in Rowland's parish, if the worst should come to
the worst; but I don't want him to know anything about me, as it will be
all right again by-and-by.'
'Howel, I asked Captain Dancy not to insist upon that money.'
'You did! That is why he let me off with half for another month. What
did he say?'
'He said, Howel, that if I would go to France with him he would forgive
your debt.'
'And you, Netta?' Howel clenched his fist.
'And I, Howel? I left the room, and have never seen him since. He called
after, but I could not speak to him again. How could I?'
'Netta, will you forgive and try to forget how jealous and unkind I have
been? In spite of all, I have loved you, Netta. Oh! if I had not taken
you away from your happy home!'
'I can bear anything if you love me, Howel. We will try to get through
this difficulty, and then you will begin afresh as a clerk or anything;
and we will be happy--oh, so happy again! Happier than ever!'
Netta smiled through her tears, whilst Howel groaned aloud.
'Think kindly of me, Netta; don't let them make you hate me. I care for
no one else in the world. If I send for you, will you come to me,
supposing I cannot come myself?'
'Anywhere! anywhere!'
Netta put her arms around her husband and sobbed aloud.
By-and-by some refreshments that Howel had ordered came up. The landlady
appeared, who seemed a quiet, meek-looking woman.
'I shall be obliged to leave Mrs Mills and the little girl for a day or
two,' said Howel. 'You will see they are attended to, I hope.'
'Yes, sir,' said the landlady looking, and, doubtless, feeling
astonished at the sort of person Netta was, so pretty and well-dressed.
That evening another letter arrived from Mr Deep, which told Howel very
plainly that writs were issued against him, and that his bills, cheques,
betting debts, and affairs generally, were being questioned by his
friends. There was also rather more than a hint of his being suspected
of forgery.
He went out as soon as he had received that letter, and did not return
until past midnight. Netta awaited him in an agony of terror lest he
should return no more.
He gave Netta ten pounds and told her on no account to disclose her real
name, or give a clue to his having been with her in those lodgings, if
she should see Rowland.
'But you will be back soon?' said poor Netta.
'In a few days I hope, or else I will send for you. I must leave
to-morrow morning at daybreak.'
A few weeks ago and neither husband nor wife would have cared how long
the separation might be, now it seemed death for each to part.
Howel kissed his child again and again as she lay sleeping in her dingy
bed, and held Netta long in his arms. The only human being who really
loved him! Him, weak, wild, sinful, godless! yet with one divine spark
rekindling in his breast--the spark of human love.
He laid his wife, fainting, by the side of her child on the bed, bathed
her temples with water until he saw that she would revive, and then
rushed out into the dirty streets, under the misty, murky morning sky, a
reckless and miserable man.