Cesarini listened gloomily, and was about to answer, when--

But here we must return to Lord Vargrave.



CHAPTER IV.

MY noble lord,
Your worthy friends do lack you.--_Macbeth_.

He is about it;
The doors are open.--_Ibid._

ON quitting Lady Doltimore's house, Lumley drove to his hotel. His
secretary had been the bearer of other communications, with the nature of
which he had not yet acquainted himself; but he saw by the
superscriptions that they were of great importance. Still, however, even
in the solitude and privacy of his own chamber, it was not on the instant
that he could divert his thoughts from the ruin of his fortunes: the loss
not only of Evelyn's property, but his own claims upon it (for the whole
capital had been placed in Douce's hands), the total wreck of his grand
scheme, the triumph he had afforded to Maltravers! He ground his teeth
in impotent rage, and groaned aloud, as he traversed his room with hasty
and uneven strides. At last he paused and muttered: "Well, the spider
toils on even when its very power of weaving fresh webs is exhausted; it
lies in wait,--it forces itself into the webs of others. Brave insect,
thou art my model! While I have breath in my body, the world and all its
crosses, Fortune and all her malignity, shall not prevail against me!
What man ever yet failed until he himself grew craven, and sold his soul