should have been in any way beholden to John Grey; but the
terrible thing had been done, the evil had occurred. What would he
gain by staying his hand now? Still, however, he walked on quickly
along Fleet Street, and along the Strand, and was already crossing
under the Picture Galleries towards Pall Mall East before he had
definitely decided what steps he would take on this very day. Exactly
at the corner of Suffolk Street he met John Grey.

"Mr Grey," he said, stopping himself suddenly, "I was this moment
going to call on you at your lodgings."

"At my lodgings, were you? Shall I return with you?"

"If you please," said Vavasor, leading the way up Suffolk Street.
There had been no other greeting than this between them. Mr Grey
himself, though a man very courteous in his general demeanour, would
probably have passed Vavasor in the street with no more than the
barest salutation. Situated as they were towards each other there
could hardly be any show of friendship between them; but when Vavasor
had spoken to him, he had dressed his face in that guise of civility
which men always use who do not intend to be offensive;--but Vavasor
dressed his as men dress theirs who do mean to be offensive; and Mr
Grey had thoroughly appreciated the dressing.

"If you will allow me, I have the key," said Grey. Then they both
entered the house, and Vavasor followed his host up-stairs. Mr Grey,
as he went up, felt almost angry with himself in having admitted his
enemy into his lodgings. He was sure that no good could come of it,
and remembered, when it was too late, that he might easily have saved
himself from giving the invitation while he was still in the street.
There they were, however, together in the sitting-room, and Grey had
nothing to do but to listen. "Will you take a chair, Mr Vavasor?" he
said. "No," said Vavasor; "I will stand up." And he stood up, holding
his hat behind his back with his left hand, with his right leg
forward, and the thumb of his right hand in his waistcoat-pocket. He
looked full into Grey's face, and Grey looked full into his; and as
he looked the great cicatrice seemed to open itself and to become
purple with fresh blood stains.

"I have come here from Mr Tombe's office in the City," said Vavasor,
"to ask you of what nature has been the interference which you have
taken in my money matters?"

This was a question which Mr Grey could not answer very quickly. In
the first place it was altogether unexpect