There was a silence for a minute or two, Mr. Bingham being greatly surprised at Fred's easy escape, for he remembered how vindictive and unforgiving Captain Bradshaw had been in his wife's case. Presently Fred spoke again.
“Don't you think something could be done to stop that madman's mouth? He has done mischief enough already; but if he is to go about as he threatened, telling this story to every one, it will be a horrible nuisance.”
Mr. Bingham thought for a time, and then shook his head.
“He is very much in earnest, Fred. He meant every word he said. There is no offering him money—it would make him worse.”
“One could not begin by offering money; still, he's poor, and money must be an object to him. Look here, father, you must see what you can do. You go round to him in the morning, and try and talk him over. Put to him the misery he has caused me in my own family; you can pitch it in strong, you know, about the old lady. Point out that I am punished besides by losing any hope of my uncle's money. Then talk about my wife; say she's very delicate, and that if this comes to her ears, the consequence will be most serious. Ask him if he wishes to destroy the happiness of an innocent creature? Beg him to be content with punishing me, as he has already done. Then, if he gives way at all, offer him a thousand pounds—I would willingly pay that—to leave at once, and go right away, and live quietly somewhere else, where the business will not be known.”
“I am afraid, Fred, it will be of no use. He's been hit too hard.”
“Oh, nonsense, father! You can do it if you take it in hand. Pitch it in strong, you know, about my wife. Tell him that for him to destroy the happiness of an innocent woman, would be as bad as what I have done. Say how devilishly sorry I am. You know the line to take.”
“It's a very unpleasant business, Fred, but if you think any good can come of it, I will try.”
“Thank you,” Fred said, “and be sure to insist upon his leaving his place at once. I don't want to have any risk of his meeting my uncle again, and stirring him up afresh.”
The next morning, accordingly, Mr. Bingham started for New Street. Upon arriving at the shop, he was astonished at finding it closed, and a bill upon the shutter—“This house and shop to be let or sold, enquire of Mr. Thompson, House Agent, Brompton Row.” In spite of this notice, he rang at the bell. There was no answer; and a neighbour, seeing Mr. Bingham standing at the door, came out and volunteered the information that Stephen Walker was gone.