Bulstrode quickly wrote a note, and went out himself to give the commission to his man.  When he returned, Caleb was standing as before with one hand on the back of the chair, holding his hat with the other.  In Bulstrode’s mind the dominant thought was, “Perhaps Raffles only spoke to Garth of his illness.  Garth may wonder, as he must have done before, at this disreputable fellow’s claiming intimacy with me; but he will know nothing.  And he is friendly to me—­ I can be of use to him.”

He longed for some confirmation of this hopeful conjecture, but to have asked any question as to what Raffles had said or done would have been to betray fear.

“I am exceedingly obliged to you, Mr. Garth,” he said, in his usual tone of politeness.  “My servant will be back in a few minutes, and I shall then go myself to see what can be done for this unfortunate man.  Perhaps you had some other business with me?  If so, pray be seated.”

“Thank you,” said Caleb, making a slight gesture with his right hand to waive the invitation.  “I wish to say, Mr. Bulstrode, that I must request you to put your business into some other hands than mine.  I am obliged to you for your handsome way of meeting me—­ about the letting of Stone Court, and all other business.  But I must give it up.”  A sharp certainty entered like a stab into Bulstrode’s soul.

“This is sudden, Mr. Garth,” was all he could say at first.

“It is,” said Caleb; “but it is quite fixed.  I must give it up.”

He spoke with a firmness which was very gentle, and yet he could see that Bulstrode seemed to cower under that gentleness, his face looking dried and his eyes swerving away from the glance which rested on him.  Caleb felt a deep pity for him, but he could have used no pretexts to account for his resolve, even if they would have been of any use.

“You have been led to this, I apprehend, by some slanders concerning me uttered by that unhappy creature,” said Bulstrode, anxious now to know the utmost.

“That is true.  I can’t deny that I act upon what I heard from him.”

“You are a conscientious man, Mr. Garth—­a man, I trust, who feels himself accountable to God.  You would not wish to injure me by being too ready to believe a slander,” said Bulstrode, casting about for pleas that might be adapted to his hearer’s mind.  “That is a poor reason for giving up a connection which I think I may say will be mutually beneficial.”

“I would injure no man if I could help it,” said Caleb; “even if I thought God winked at it.  I hope I should have a feeling for my fellow-creature.  But, sir—­I am obliged to believe that this Raffles has told me the truth.  And I can’t be happy in working with you, or profiting by you.  It hurts my mind.  I must beg you to seek another agent.”

“Very well, Mr. Garth.  But I must at least claim to know the worst that he has told you.  I must know what is the foul speech that I am liable to be the victim of,” said Bulstrode, a certain amount of anger beginning to mingle with his humiliation before this quiet man who renounced his benefits.