Part 13 (1/2)
It was nine o'clock, and he made his way swiftly to the address which Benham had given him. He found that gentleman in a quiet and respectable lodging, and was received with civility.
”You are just to your time,” said Benham.
”I'm not behind it. I had till to-morrow.”
”And you have brought the appointment?”
”No.”
”The promise of it, then?”
”No; I can't do it.”
”Why not?”
”Well, I don't know why I should tell you, but for two good reasons--it's difficult and it's dirty. Difficult because you're not popular with my friends--dirty, because--but you know that.”
”You really mean to refuse?”
”Yes.”
”Then what are you going to do for me?”
”I can't do anything for you.”
”That's final?” asked Benham, facing him squarely. ”You utterly refuse to do me a small favour, though you were ready enough to ruin my life?”
Medland was doubtful if he had ruined the man's life, but he only answered--
”I can't job you into anything. That's what you want, and it's what I can't do for you.”
”Very well. I've got a thing of value, haven't I? Well, I shall sell it to the highest bidder. Ay, and I tell you what, James Medland, I'll be level with you before I die, G.o.d help me I will! You shall be sorry for this, before I've done with you.”
”I take the chance of that. If you're in want, I'll supply you with money, as far as my means allow.”
”Your means? What are they? You won't have your salary long, if I can help it. I think I can find a better market, thank you.”
Medland turned on his heel. He had come with a vague idea of trying in some way to smooth over matters between them. It was plainly impossible; he had no wish to bribe, and, if he had, clearly he could not bribe high enough. He was still in his confident mood, and Benham's rude threats roused him to defiance.
”Have it your own way,” he said; ”but people who attack me in Kirton run some risks,” and he went out with a smile on his face.
As he strolled home again, his exultant temper left him. The springiness of his step relaxed into a slouching gait, and his head fell forward. He stopped and turned half round, as though to go back; then, with a sigh, he held on his way. Far off, he could see the twinkling lights of s.h.i.+ps, and, in the still of evening, catch the roll of the sea as it broke on the beach, and an odd fancy came over him of sailing far away with his daughter over the sea--or, perhaps better still, of walking quietly into the water until it closed over his head. Now and then he grew tired of fighting, and to him life was all fighting now.
”Meditating new resolutions, Medland?” asked a cheery voice at his side.
Turning with a start, he saw the Chief Justice, who continued,
”You'll be in the thick of it to-morrow, I suppose?”
”I have left off thinking where I shall be to-morrow,” he answered.