Lord Nidderdale saw his father in the lobby of the House of Lords that afternoon and told him what had occurred. The old man had been in a state of great doubt since the day of the dinner party. He was aware of the ruin that would be incurred by a marriage with Melmotte's daughter, if the things which had been said of Melmotte should be proved to be true. But he knew also that if his son should now recede, there must be an end of the match altogether;--and he did not believe the rumours. He was fully determined that the money should be paid down before the marriage was celebrated; but if his son were to secede now, of course no money would be forthcoming. He was prepared to recommend his son to go on with the affair still a little longer. 'Old Cure tells me he doesn't believe a word of it,' said the father. Cure was the family lawyer of the Marquises of Auld Reekie.
'There's some hitch about Dolly Longestaffe's money, sir,' said the son.
'What's that to us if he has our money ready? I suppose it isn't always easy even for a man like that to get a couple of hundred thousand together. I know I've never found it easy to get a thousand. If he has borrowed a trifle from Longestaffe to make up the girl's money, I shan't complain. You stand to your guns. There's no harm done till the parson has said the word.'
'You couldn't let me have a couple of hundred;--could you, sir?' suggested the son.
'No, I couldn't,' replied the father with a very determined aspect.
'I'm awfully hard up.'
'So am I.' Then the old man toddled into his own chamber, and after sitting there ten minutes went away home.
Lord Nidderdale also got quickly through his legislative duties and went to the Beargarden. There he found Grasslough and Miles Grendall dining together, and seated himself at the next table. They were full of news. 'You've heard it, I suppose,' said Miles in an awful whisper.
'Heard what?'
'I believe he doesn't know!' said Lord Grasslough. 'By Jove, Nidderdale, you're in a mess like some others.'
'What's up now?'
'Only fancy that they shouldn't have known down at the House! Vossner has bolted!'
'Bolted!' exclaimed Nidderdale, dropping the spoon with which he was just going to eat his soup.
'Bolted,' repeated Grasslough. Lord Nidderdale looked round the room and became aware of the awful expression of dismay which hung upon the features of all the dining members. 'Bolted, by George! He has sold all our acceptances to a fellow in Great Marlbro' that's called "Flatfleece".'