some
difficulty which Joe had encountered with the Norwich tradespeople,
he would have been beside himself with dismay. He desired to obtain
the prize unmutilated,--in all its fair proportions. Any such
clippings he regarded as robberies against himself.

But he feared Bellfield more than he feared the brougham. That
all is fair in love and war was no doubt, at this period, Captain
Bellfield's maxim, and we can only trust that he found in it some
consolation, or ease to his conscience, in regard to the monstrous
lies which he told his friend. In war, no doubt, all stratagems are
fair. The one general is quite justified in making the other believe
that he is far to the right, when in truth he is turning his enemy's
left flank. If successful, he will be put upon a pedestal for his
clever deceit, and crowned with laurels because of his lie. If
Bellfield could only be successful, and achieve for himself the
mastery over those forty thousand pounds, the world would forgive him
and place, on his brow also, some not uncomfortable crown. In the
mean time, his stratagems were as deep and his lies as profound as
those of any general.

It must not be supposed that Cheesacre ever believed him. In the
first place, he knew that Bellfield was not a man to be believed
in any way. Had he not been living on lies for the last ten years?
But then a man may lie in such a way as to deceive, though no one
believe him. Mr Cheesacre was kept in an agony of doubt while Captain
Bellfield occupied his lodgings in Norwich. He fee'd Jeannette
liberally. He even fee'd Charlie Fairstairs,--Miss Fairstairs I
mean,--with gloves, and chickens from Oileymead, so that he might
know whether that kite fluttered about his dovecoat, and of what
nature were the flutterings. He went even further than this, and
fee'd the Captain himself,--binding him down not to flutter as
value given in return for such fees. He attempted even to fee the
widow,--cautioning her against the fluttering, as he tendered to
her, on his knees, a brooch as big as a breast-plate. She waved aside
the breast-plate, declaring that the mourning ring which contained
poor Greenow's final grey lock of hair, was the last article from a
jeweller's shop which should ever find a place about her person. At
the same time she declared that Captain Bellfield was nothing to her;
Mr Cheesacre need have no fears in that quarter. But then, she added,
neither was he to have any hope. Her affections were a