Just as Mrs. Irons whisked round for the seventh time to start upon her long threatened march to Dr. Walsingham’s study to lay her pitiful case before him, Captain Devereux, who was looking toward the ‘Phoenix,’ saw the truant clerk and Mr. Dangerfield turn the corner together on their return.

‘Stay, Madam, here comes the traitor,’ said he; ’and, on my honour, ’tis worse than we thought; for he has led my Lord Castlemallard’s old agent into mischief too—­and Meg Partlet has had two swains at her feet this morning; and, see, the hypocrites have got some trout in their basket, and their rods on their shoulders—­and look, for all the world, as if they had only been fishing—­sly rogues!’

‘Well, it’s all one,’ said Mrs. Irons, gaping from the other window, and sobering rapidly; ’if ’tisn’t to-day, ’twill be to-morrow, I suppose; and at any rate ’tis a sin and shame to leave any poor crature in this miserable taking, not knowing but he might be drownded—­or worse—­dear knows it would not be much trouble to tell his wife when the gentleman wanted him—­and sure for any honest matter I’d never say against it.’

Her thoughts were running upon Dangerfield, and what ‘compliment’ he had probably made her husband at parting; and a minute or two after this, Devereux saw her, with her riding-hood on, trudging up to the “Salmon House” to make inquisition after the same.

CHAPTER XXI.

RELATING AMONG OTHER THINGS HOW DOCTOR TOOLE WALKED UP TO THE TILED HOUSE; AND OF HIS PLEASANT DISCOURSE WITH MR. MERVYN.

Dr. Sturk’s spirits and temper had not become more pleasant lately.  In fact he brooded more, and was more savage at home than was at all agreeable.  He used to go into town oftener, and to stay there later; and his language about Toole and Nutter, when there was none but submissive little Mrs. Sturk by, was more fierce and coarse than ever.  To hear him, then, one would have supposed that they were actually plotting to make away with him, and that in self-defence he must smite them hip and thigh.  Then, beside their moral offensiveness, they were such ‘idiots,’ and:  ‘noodles,’ and botching and blundering right and left, so palpably to the danger and ruin of their employers, that no man of conscience could sit easy and see it going on; and all this simply because he had fixed his affections upon the practice of the one, and the agency of the other.  For Sturk had, in his own belief, a genius for business of every sort.  Everybody on whom his insolent glance fell, who had any sort of business to do, did it wrong, and was a ‘precious disciple,’ or a ‘goose,’ or a ‘born jackass,’ and excited his scoffing chuckle.  And little Mrs. Sturk, frightened and admiring, used to say, while he grinned and muttered, and tittered into the fire, with his great shoulders buried in his balloon-backed chair, his heels over the fender and his hands in his breeches’ pockets—­’But,