"How will you explain the deception--the fact that you have been coming here under a false name?"

"I will get around that all right. It was your suggestion, you remember, not mine, that I should take the name of Royle. Look here, Foster, I know there is some reason in what you say--I respect your motives. But you misunderstand and misjudge me. I love the girl with all my heart, with a true, pure and lasting affection. I might choose a wife in higher places, but Madge has enslaved me with her sweet face and charming disposition. As for our relations--you know what poverty drove me to.

Given a secure income, and I should never have stooped to dishonor. The need of money stifled the best that was in my nature. It is not too late to reform, though. I don't mean now, but when I come into my uncle's fortune, which is a sure thing. Then, I promise you, I will be as straight as you could wish your daughter's husband to be. Believe me, I am sincere. No man could offer Madge a deeper affection."

There was no doubt that Victor Nevill spoke the truth, for once in his life; he loved Madge with a pa.s.sion that dominated him, and he knew his own unworthiness. Stephen Foster paced the floor with a haggard face, with knitted brows.

"It is impossible," he said to himself. "I would rather see her married to some poor but honest clerk." He lighted a cigar and bit it savagely.

"What if I refuse?" he added aloud.

A dangerous light flashed in Nevill's eyes.

"I won't give her up," he replied; and in the words there was a hidden menace which Stephen Foster understood.

"Give her up?" he echoed. "You have not won her yet."

"I know that, but I hope to succeed."

"What do you expect me to do?"

"All in your power. Give me a fair show."

"The girl shan't be bullied or browbeaten--I won't force her into such a step against her wishes. If she marries you, it will be of her own free will."

"That's fair enough. But I want an open field. You must keep other admirers away from the girl, and there isn't any time to lose about it.

It may be too late now--"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Madge has improved her acquaintance with the chap who pulled her out of the river a couple of weeks ago."

"Impossible, Nevill!"

"It is perfectly true. And do you know who the man is? It is none other than Jack Vernon, the artist."

"By heavens, Jack Vernon! The same who--"

"Yes, the same. I did not tell you before."

"And I did not dream of it. I wrote a letter of grat.i.tude to the fellow, and told Madge to get his address from the landlord of the Black Bull--I did not know it myself, else--"

"I was afraid you might have some scruples. It is too late for that now."

"It was like your cursed cunning," exclaimed Stephen Foster. "Yes, I should have hesitated. But are you certain that Madge has seen the fellow since?"

"Certain? Why, I pa.s.sed them in George street, Richmond, last evening, as I was driving to the Star and Garter. They were together in a trap, going toward Kew. That is the reason I determined to speak to you to-night."

Stephen Foster rose and hurried toward the door; his face was pale with anger and alarm.

"Stop!" cried Nevill. "What are you going to do?"

"Sit still," was the hoa.r.s.e reply. "I'll tell you when I return."

CHAPTER IX.

UNCLE AND NEPHEW.

Victor Nevill was on his feet instantly, and by a quick move he intercepted Foster and clutched him by the arm. He repeated his question: "What are you going to do?"

"Take your hand off me. I shall hear from Madge's own lips a denial of your words. How dare you accuse her of stooping to an intrigue?"

"I wouldn't call it that. Madge is young and innocent. She knows little of the censorious world. She has been left pretty much to herself, and naturally she sees no harm in meeting Vernon. As for denying my words--she can't do that."

"I will call her to account, and make her confess everything."

"But not to-night," urged Nevill. "Come, sit down."

Stephen Foster yielded to the solicitation of his companion, and went back to his chair. He mixed a whisky and soda, and drank half of it.

"I forget," he muttered, "that my little Madge has grown to womanhood.

Her very innocence would make her an easy prey to some unscrupulous scoundrel. I must speak to her, Nevill."

"Yes, by all means."

"And why not to-night?"

"Need you ask? Would not Madge know at once that it was I who told you?

And what, then, would be my chance of winning her?"

"It couldn't be any poorer than it is now," thought Stephen Foster.

"Did she see you yesterday?" he said aloud.

"No, by good luck she did not--at least I feel pretty sure of it. A jolly good thing, too, for Vernon recognized me and nodded to me. But whether Madge saw me or not won't make much difference under present circ.u.mstances. If you go downstairs now and start a row with her, she will be sure to suspect that you received your information from me."

"Quite likely. What do you want me to do?"

"Wait until to-morrow evening, when you return from town. Then tell her that some stock-broking friend of yours in the city saw her near Richmond station."

"That is the best plan," a.s.sented Stephen Foster. "I will take your advice."

"Of course you will forbid her to have anything more to do with Vernon, and will see that your wishes are enforced?"

"Decidedly. The man has behaved badly, and I can't believe that he has any honorable intentions. He has been simply amusing himself with the girl."

"That's like him," Nevill said carelessly. "Jack Vernon was always a rake and a _roue_; though, as I am a friend of his, I ought not to tell you this. But for your daughter's sake--"