Madeline herself, his visitor knew so little about its
nature or extent, that it might be a lucky guess, or a hap-hazard
accusation. Whether or no, he had clearly no key to the mystery, and
could not hurt him who kept it close within his own breast. The
allusion to friends, and the offer of money, Gride held to be mere empty
vapouring, for purposes of delay. 'And even if money were to be had,'
thought Arthur Glide, as he glanced at Nicholas, and trembled with
passion at his boldness and audacity, 'I'd have that dainty chick for my
wife, and cheat YOU of her, young smooth-face!'

Long habit of weighing and noting well what clients said, and nicely
balancing chances in his mind and calculating odds to their faces,
without the least appearance of being so engaged, had rendered Gride
quick in forming conclusions, and arriving, from puzzling, intricate,
and often contradictory premises, at very cunning deductions. Hence
it was that, as Nicholas went on, he followed him closely with his own
constructions, and, when he ceased to speak, was as well prepared as if
he had deliberated for a fortnight.

'I hear you,' he cried, starting from his seat, casting back the
fastenings of the window-shutters, and throwing up the sash. 'Help here!
Help! Help!'

'What are you doing?' said Nicholas, seizing him by the arm.

'I'll cry robbers, thieves, murder, alarm the neighbourhood, struggle
with you, let loose some blood, and swear you came to rob me, if
you don't quit my house,' replied Gride, drawing in his head with a
frightful grin, 'I will!'

'Wretch!' cried Nicholas.

'YOU'LL bring your threats here, will you?' said Gride, whom jealousy
of Nicholas and a sense of his own triumph had converted into a perfect
fiend. 'You, the disappointed lover? Oh dear! He! he! he! But you shan't
have her, nor she you. She's my wife, my doting little wife. Do you
think she'll miss you? Do you think she'll weep? I shall like to see her
weep, I shan't mind it. She looks prettier in tears.'

'Villain!' said Nicholas, choking with his rage.

'One minute more,' cried Arthur Gride, 'and I'll rouse the street with
such screams, as, if they were raised by anybody else, should wake me
even in the arms of pretty Madeline.'

'You hound!' said Nicholas. 'If you were but a younger man--'

'Oh yes!' sneered Arthur Gride, 'If I was but a younger man it wouldn't
be so bad; but for me, so old and ugly! To be jilted by little Madeline
for me!'

'Hear me,'