In the eighth chapter of Betteredge's Narrative, an allusion will be found to the arrival of a foreigner and a stranger at my aunt's house, who came to see me on business. The nature of his business was this.

I had been foolish enough (being, as usual, straitened for money at the time) to accept a loan from the keeper of a small restaurant in Paris, to whom I was well known as a customer. A time was settled between us for paying the money back; and when the time came, I found it (as thousands of other honest men have found it) impossible to keep my engagement. I sent the man a bill. My name was unfortunately too well known on such documents: he failed to negotiate it. His affairs had fallen into disorder, in the interval since I had borrowed of him; bankruptcy stared him in the face; and a relative of his, a French lawyer, came to England to find me, and to insist upon the payment of my debt. He was a man of violent temper; and he took the wrong way with me. High words passed on both sides; and my aunt and Rachel were unfortunately in the next room, and heard us. Lady Verinder came in, and insisted on knowing what was the matter. The Frenchman produced his credentials, and declared me to be responsible for the ruin of a poor man, who had trusted in my honour. My aunt instantly paid him the money, and sent him off. She knew me better, of course, than to take the Frenchman's view of the transaction. But she was shocked at my carelessness, and justly angry with me for placing myself in a position, which, but for her interference, might have become a very disgraceful one. Either her mother told her, or Rachel heard what passed--I can't say which. She took her own romantic, high-flown view of the matter. I was `heartless'; I was `dishonourable'; I had `no principle'; there was `no knowing what I might do next'--in short, she said some of the severest things to me which I had ever heard from a young lady's lips. The breach between us lasted for the whole of the next day. The day after, I succeeded in making my peace, and thought no more of it. Had Rachel reverted to this unlucky accident, at the critical moment when my place in her estimation was again, and far more seriously, assailed? Mr. Bruff, when I had mentioned the circumstances to him, answered the question at once in the affirmative.

`It would have its effect on her mind,' he said gravely. `And I wish, for your sake, the thing had not happened. However, we have discovered that there was a predisposing influence against you--and there is one uncertainty cleared out of our way, at any rate. I see nothing more that we can do now. Our next step in this inquiry must be the step that takes us to Rachel.'

He rose, and began walking thoughtfully up and down the room. Twice, I was on the point of telling him that I had determined on seeing Rachel personally; and twice, having regard to his age and his character, I hesitated to take him by surprise at an unfavourable moment.

`The grand difficulty is,' he resumed, `how to make her show her whole mind in this matter, without reserve. Have you any suggestions to offer?'

`I have made up my mind, Mr. Bruff, to speak to Rachel myself.'

`You!' He suddenly stopped in his walk, and looked at me as if he thought I had taken leave of my senses. `You, of all the people in the world!' He abruptly checked himself, and took another turn in the room. `Wait a little,' he said. `In cases of this extra-ordinary kind, the rash way is sometimes the best way.' He considered the question for a moment or two, under that new light. and ended boldly by a decision in my favour. `Nothing venture, nothing have,' the old gentleman resumed. `You have a chance in your favour which I don't posses--and you shall be the first to try the experiment.'

`A chance in my favour?' I repeated, in the greatest surprise.

Mr. Bruff's face softened, for the first time, into a smile.

`This is how it stands,' he said. `I tell you fairly, I don't trust your discretion, and I don't trust your temper. But I do trust in Rachel's still preserving, in some remote little corner of her heart, a certain perverse weakness for you. Touch that--and trust to the consequences for the fullest disclosures that can flow from a woman's lips! The question is--how are you to see her?'