University of Virginia Library

18. CHAPTER XVIII.
DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.

In the elegant mansion of Oliver Goldfinch,
on the third story, separated alike
from the members of the family and the
servants or domestics of the house, Nathan
Wesley had his own sleeping-apartment.
It was a small room, plainly but
neatly furnished, containing a bed, wardrobe,
secretary, and a few books, scattered
many of them carelessly about, and such
other articles as the attorney fancied both
convenient and useful. Here, at an early
hour on the morning ensuing the night
of events just detailed, the lordly millionaire,
with his toilet half made, was pacing
to and fro with rapid steps, his features
expressive of vindictive passions excited
to a pitch little short of frenzy, on
whom Wesley, just startled from a sound
sleep, and partly risen in bed, still
rubbing his heavy eyelids, was staring
with a sort of drowsy wonder, that had in
much of the ludicrous.

“Up, sluggard!” shouted Goldfinch, looking
fiercely at the other, and seeming by
his manner undetermined whether or no
to use violent measures to bring him speedily
to his senses. “Up, villain! and give
an account of your last night's treachery!
Where is Acton, my s?”

“How should I know?” replied the attorney,
in some trepidation.

“How should you know?” repeated
Goldfinch, sneeringly; “because the devil
should know what becomes of his victims!”

“Then you ought to know, without asking
me,” was the impudent reply.

“Villain!” cried Goldfinch, completely
beside himself with passion, springing forward
and seizing Wesley by the throat:
“bridle thy saucy tongue and give straight
answers, or I'll tear it from thy foul mouth
to feed my dogs on! Where is Acton, I
say?”

“I don't know,” replied the other, sullenly,
as Goldfinch released his hold.

“Liar! you do know! Where did you
leave him?”

“I didn't leave him at all. He left me,
to run off with a woman.”

“And you enticed him into the scheme.”

“No I didn't” contradicted Wesley,
bluntly. “He enticed me to assist him.”

“And then you betrayed him.”

“But he insulted me first,” muttered the
attorney.

“Wretch! I have a mind to strangle
you for your treachery! As if he could
insult you—mean worthless dog that you
are—almost unfit to do his menial services!
And what think you came of your
baseness?”

“I don't know,” answered the other,
doggedly.

“No, nor you don't care,” rejoined Goldfinch.

“Nor don't care,” grumbled the attorney,
too low to reach the other's ears.

“Well, I will tell you what became of
him, base ingrate!” pursued Goldfinch,
vehemently. “He spent the night in prison!
In prison, do you hear? Think of
that, sir! Acton Goldfinch, my son, in
prison, in company with common thieves
and vagabonds, and all through your infernal
villainy!”

“Where I'll put the father soon,” muttered
Wesley to himself, with a devilish
grin of triumph lurking around the corners
of his mouth.

“Cease your grinning!” shouted Goldfinch,
his features distorted with frantic
rage, as he glared ferociously upon Wes
ley, who, springing up in bed and hurrying
on his garments, withdrew to the farther
side, as if in fear the other would do
him violence. “Cease, I tell you!” pursued
Goldfinch, advancing toward him, “or,
by —! I'll make it the grin of death.—
My son in prison, through the machinations
and treachery of you, whom I picked
up in the streets of Baltimore, little better
than a beggar, and raised to the exalted
position of attorney and confidant:
think of that, villain! Not half an hour
since, I received a message from Acton,
accusing you, and praying me to, come
to his relief! I came up here to
chastise you, and if I do not, ere I leave,
you may thank your lucky stars! Acton
in prison—my family disgraced—what
will the world say?”

“Say that he deserves it,” replied Wesley,
who, though afraid of the other, could
not restrain a malicious propensity to irritate
him still farther.

Goldfinch made no direct reply, but
clenching his hand, he came close to the
bed and raised it as if to strike.

“Stop!” cried Wesley, fixing upon
him a demoniacal look of defiance, that,
enraged as he was, made him hesitate.—
“Stop!” he repeated, placing one hand in
his pocket, as if to draw a concealed
weapon. “You've laid hands on me once
already: do so again, and by the blood of
the murdered! I'll send your spirit after
his!”

“Well,” rejoined Goldfinch, lowering
his fist and turning very pale, evidently
fearful the other would keep his oath
should he attempt violence, and, at the
same time, desirous to impress Wesley
with the belief he had only changed his
design for one still more severe: “now
since you have mentioned that, mark me!
If Acton comes to harm, through this
baseness of yours, I'll have you hung, if
it sinks my fortune to do it!”

“Will you?” grinned Wesley. “Now
mark me, Oliver Goldfinch, and don't forget
one word I say! You've been talking
largely of what you'll do, and what you've
done, and now I want you to listen to me!
You say you picked me up in the streets
of Baltimore, little better than a beggar,

and raised me to the honorable position of
being your attorney and confidant. Rather
say you degraded me to that position
by your own devilish arts! If I was poor
then, I was a much honester man than
now, and had a conscience that didn't
trouble me. But you found me, and knew
from my nature I could be tempted into
guilt for money; and you offered me money
to do your dirty work; and after I'd
done it, you dared not let me go, for fear
I might get you into difficulty by speaking
of something that had happened; and
so you kept me near you, and made me
what you've boasted of, and promised me
you'd not only make a great man of me,
but what is of still more consequence, a
rich one. Well, sir, I've been with you
about five years now, and don't see as I
am much richer than I was before, excepting
my salary, which has been a small
one. Now that these matters have been
brought forward by you, and you've taken
the liberty to tell me of my baseness and
meanness, which you've had the benefit
of, and how I'm hardly fit to serve your
honorable son as a menial, I'll trouble you
for that little balance, cry quits, and let
you get somebody that will serve you better."

"Nay, good Wesley, I was but in passion
and spoke hastily," returned the hypocrite,
alarmed at the other's words, and
changing his angry countenance to one of
smiles, and his harsh tone to one of blandness.
"I could not think of parting with
you on any terms."

"Well, I must have that balance, at all
events," rejoined Wesley, looking slyly
and maliciously at the other with his
small, black, fiery eyes.

"To what balance do you allude?"
mildly asked the hypocrite.

"Why, the balance that was to make
me rich."

"I do not understand you."

"I presume not: I know it is very hard
for a man to understand where he don't
want to. I'll simplify the matter: I want
twenty thousand dollars."

"Good heavens! Wesley, you are not
in your senses."

"O, but I am, though. I am in my senses
now, and should have been long before,
but that I thought your generosity
would save me the painful necessity of
asking you for what you promised."

"But I never promised this, my dear Wesley."

"No, but you promised to make me rich, and twenty
thousand dollars is the very lowest sum I could
accept for an in dependancy."

"But consider?"

"I have," replied the attorney, with a
malicious grin: "I have considered, five
years of servitude, crimes worthy of the
gallows, besides a good many insults before
these I've just received, and the
strongest fact of all, that I hold a secret
would ruin you."

"But I cannot part with such a sum."

"Then lose the whole."

"But, my dear Wesley—"

"Stop! Dear Wesley me no more.—
I'm talking on business matters now, and
particularly want all dears left out. Keep
them to cozen new dupes with. I want
twenty thousand dollars at once!"

"How will you have it?"

"In cash."

"Why, you must have lost your senses,
surely!"

"O, no—just found them. You have
fifty thousand dollars in the hands of John
Peyton, subject to instant withdrawal.—
Give me a check on him for twenty thousand,
or you're not safe twenty-four
hours!"

"You would betray me, then?" said
Goldfinch, sternly, his brow again darkening;
and stepping hastily to the door, he
locked it and withdrew the key.

Wesley turned pale, but still trusted to
his brazen assurance to triumph at last.

"What is the use of such caution?" he
asked, with assumed carelessness. "Nobody
is about to trouble or overhear us."

"So much the better," replied Goldfinch,
glancing eagerly around, as if seeking
means to accomplish some dark design.

"I know your thoughts," spoke Wesley,
retreating to the farther end of the
room. "You're thinking how you can put
me out of the way, and silence my tongue.

But you're very foolish; for if you kill me,
of course it will be proved on you, and
you'll have to swing for it. Better give
the twenty thousand and save yourself.”

“Never!” exclaimed the millionaire,
stamping his foot violently. “I will not
be so imposed on! Down on your knees,
villain! and swear, by all you hold sacred,
to keep my secret—or, be the consequeces
what they may, you shall never
quit this apartment alive!”

As he said this, Goldfinch made a bound
forward to seize the attorney, but the
next moment recoiled in dismay, as the
click of a pistol sounded ominously in his
ear.

“Turn about is fair play,” cried Wesley,
following up the hasty retreat of the
other with a pistol leveled at his head.
“Open that door now, and give me free
exit, or, by —! you're a dead man before
you can say your prayers!”

“I yield,” returned Goldfinch, biting his
nether lip till the blood sprang through;
and he unlocked and threw open the door.

“How about the money?” querried
Wesley, carelessly playing with the weapon,
to the endangerment of the other's
safety. “Are we to part as friends, or
how?”

“If we part in life, Heaven send we
part not as foes!” answered Goldfinch.—
“We have both been too hasty. Come
down and you shall have a check for all
you ask; and then we must see what can
be done with Acton and young Courtly.”

“Well, since you've got reasonable,”
said the other, impudently, his late success
having greatly exalted him in his
own estimation,” I will honor you with
my company.”

“You are very condescending,” rejoined
Goldfinch; and the two descended
to the library—a large square room, on
the second story, well stored with books
of every description.

Pointing Wesley to a seat, Goldfinch
opened his secretary, wrote a few lines,
and handed the other the paper.

“This it all right,” said Wesley, glancing
over it—“with the exception of one
thing,” he added, returning it.

“What is that?” asked the other.

“I want you to give it to me before witnesses.
No Edgar Courtly games, you
know.”

The sudden but marked change in the
countenance of the millionaire, showed he
he had something of the latter kind in
his thoughts, but he said quickly:

“Certainly, certainly—you shall be satisfied;”
and he rang for the servant,
who, so soon as he appeared, he bade hasten
all the other servants and his daughter,
if she had risen, to the library.

All appeared save Arabella; and in
their presence, Goldfinch placed the check
in Wesley's hand, saying it was a gift
from him to the other of twenty thousand
dollars, and he desired all to bear witness
thereof. He then dismissed them, and
turned to Wesley. “Now,” he said, “you
are bound to me. I have fulfilled my
part of the agreement, and claim your
services hereafter on all difficult points.
In the first place, what is to be done with
this young Courtly?”

“Let him go,” replied Wesley.

“How, sir!—after all our trouble to get
him there?”

“Can't help it; but you see, in the first
place, it will be very hard to prove
the forgery, which can only be done by
false witnesses, even if he had no friends
—but next to impossible now, since he's
got, by some sorcery or other, that I can't
understand, two of the most powerful ones
I know of.”

“Who are they?”

“Calvin Morton and Clarence Malcolm.”

“Indeed! is it so?” cried Goldfinch,
with a start. “So, so—then we must not
appear against him—for even Satan himself
could not outwit this Morton. And
besides, being thrown off my guard last
night, like a fool, I fairly betrayed myself,
by telling Malcolm I had given Edgar
a check for a thousand dollars; and since
he is so much interested, of course he would
come forward as a witness. At first I
thought, with your help, we might outswear
Clarence—but if Morton has taken
hold of the matter, we might as well let
it drop as it is. But, Wesley, (and the
scheming man glanced warily around and
spoke low,) could not you contrive some

plan to rid us of him, as you did of —”

“Hist!” interrupted Wesley, starting
up and looking fearfully around. “Never
mention his name again to me!—never,
never!—I've had enough of him already.”

“Well, well, let him go. You understand
what I mean!”

“I understand.”

“And is there not some way, think
you?”

“Well, I'll consider on it.”

“Do so, my good Wesley. Only hit
upon some plan to rid us of him, and I will
double the amount already given.”

“But why do you want him out of the
way?”

“Why? Because I both fear and hate
him. He has dared to threaten me to my
face—and no man shall do that without
feeling my revenge.”

“Well, as I said before, I must consider
on it. I'll see what can be done,” he
continued, giving the other a very peculiar
look, “and then you shall hear from
me.”

“That is right,” rejoined Goldfinch,
grasping the attorney by the hand. “Let
us be friends henceforth, and that little
affair of this morning be forgotten. Remember—another
twenty thousand. And
as for Acton—why hasten at once to Malcolm,
make my most humble apologies for
what happened last night, plead youthful
indiscression for my son, say he is sorry
for it, that it was in a great measure
your own fault, beg him to be lenient, and,
in short, get his promise not to appear
against him. That done, he is safe; for
the other witnesses, if there are any, can
be easily bought off. Now hasten, good
Wesley, and return soon and let me know
the result; and besides, think over in the
meantime what can be done with this
Courtly. Our cards have been rather unskillfully
played of late, and this cursed
nephew is deep at work undermining my
stainless reputation, so that we must
move cautiously in the matter. If we can
only get him silenced—trust me, the sun
shall again brightly beam through the
clouds that are lowering upon us. Do
your part, good Wesley, and leave the rest
to me. Now away and report me soon;”
and bowing, with a glance of triumph on
his countenance, which Goldfinch fancied
augured success to his own cause, the attorney
quitted the apartment.

“Now diamond cut diamond,” pursued
Goldfinch, in an exulting tone, as soon as
Wesley was out of sight. “Now then, I
have them both! Wesley shall make way
with Edgar, like a short sighted fool that
he is, and then good Nathan Wesley shall
swing for his pains, while I will laugh in
the triumph of security that I am master
of my own secret.”

“Will you?” grinned Wesley to himself,
who, instead of instantly departing,
had lingered by the door with his ear to
the key hole. “Will you?—ha, ha!—and
you will make your money save you! O
yes, most certainly;” and shaking his
check with an air of defiance, and chuckling
at his own thoughts, he glided silently
down stairs, and the next moment was
in the street.