'Ruby is very pretty. Has she gone with any one?'
'No;--she went alone. But the horror of it is this. They think down there that Felix has,--well, made love to her, and that she has been taken to London by him.'
'That would be very bad.'
'He certainly has known her. Though he lied, as he always lies, when I first spoke to him, I brought him to admit that he and she had been friends down in Suffolk. Of course we know what such friendship means. But I do not think that she came to London at his instance. Of course he would lie about that. He would lie about anything. If his horse cost him a hundred pounds, he would tell one man that he gave fifty, and another two hundred. But he has not lived long enough yet to be able to lie and tell the truth with the same eye. When he is as old as I am he'll be perfect.'
'He knows nothing about her coming to town?'
'He did not when I first asked him. I am not sure, but I fancy that I was too quick after her. She started last Saturday morning. I followed on the Sunday, and made him out at his club. I think that he knew nothing then of her being in town. He is very clever if he did. Since that he has avoided me. I caught him once but only for half a minute, and then he swore that he had not seen her.'
'You still believed him?'
'No;--he did it very well, but I knew that he was prepared for me. I cannot say how it may have been. To make matters worse old Ruggles has now quarrelled with Crumb, and is no longer anxious to get back his granddaughter. He was frightened at first; but that has gone off, and he is now reconciled to the loss of the girl and the saving of his money.'
After that Paul told all his own story,--the double story, both in regard to Melmotte and to Mrs Hurtle. As regarded the Railway, Roger could only tell him to follow explicitly the advice of his Liverpool friend. 'I never believed in the thing, you know.'
'Nor did I. But what could I do?'
'I'm not going to blame you. Indeed, knowing you as I do, feeling sure that you intend to be honest, I would not for a moment insist on my own opinion, if it did not seem that Mr Ramsbottom thinks as I do. In such a matter, when a man does not see his own way clearly, it behoves him to be able to show that he has followed the advice of some man whom the world esteems and recognizes. You have to bind your character to another man's character; and that other man's character, if it be good, will carry you through. From what I hear Mr Ramsbottom's character is sufficiently good;--but then you must do exactly what he tells you.'