. D---- me, sir, we must do something. If you
turn up your nose at one woman after another how do you mean to live?'

'I don't think that a woman of forty with only a life interest would
be a good speculation. Of course I'll think of it if you press it.' The
old man growled again. 'You see, sir, I've been so much in earnest
about this girl that I haven't thought of inquiring about any one
else. There always is some one up with a lot of money. It's a pity
there shouldn't be a regular statement published with the amount of
money, and what is expected in return. It'd save a deal of trouble.'

'If you can't talk more seriously than that you'd better go away,'
said the old Marquis.

At that moment a footman came into the room and told Lord Nidderdale
that a man particularly wished to see him in the hall. He was not
always anxious to see those who called on him, and he asked the
servant whether he knew who the man was. 'I believe, my lord, he's one
of the domestics from Mr Melmotte's in Bruton Street,' said the
footman, who was no doubt fully acquainted with all the circumstances
of Lord Nidderdale's engagement. The son, who was still smoking,
looked at his father as though in doubt. 'You'd better go and see,'
said the Marquis. But Nidderdale before he went asked a question as to
what he had better do if Melmotte had sent for him. 'Go and see
Melmotte. Why should you be afraid to see him? Tell him you are ready
to marry the girl if you can see the money down, but that you won't
stir a step till it has been actually paid over.'

'He knows that already,' said Nidderdale as he left the room.

In the hall he found a man whom he recognized as Melmotte's butler, a
ponderous, elderly, heavy man who now had a letter in his hand. But
the lord could tell by the man's face and manner that he himself had
some story to tell. 'Is there anything the matter?'

'Yes, my lord,--yes. Oh, dear,--oh, dear! I think you'll be sorry to
hear it. There was none who came there he seemed to take to so much as
your lordship.'

'They've taken him to prison!' exclaimed Nidderdale. But the man shook
his head. 'What is it then? He can't be dead.' Then the man nodded his
head, and, putting his hand up to his face, burst into tears. 'Mr
Melmotte dead! He was in the House of Commons last night. I saw him
myself. How did he die?' But the fat, ponderous man was so affected by
the tragedy he had witnessed, that he could not as yet give any
account of the s