'That's the best, I should say.'
'You'll be there by that time?' Miles Grendall assented slowly, and with imperfect assent. 'And tell your father he might as well be there as early as convenient.'
'All right,' said Miles as he took his departure.
'Curs!' said Melmotte almost aloud. 'They neither of them will be there. If any evil can be done to me by treachery and desertion, they will do it.' Then it occurred to him to think whether the Grendall article had been worth all the money that he had paid for it. 'Curs!' he said again. He walked down into the hall, and through the banqueting-room, and stood at the place where he himself had sat. What a scene it had been, and how frightfully low his heart had sunk within him! It had been the defection of the Lord Mayor that had hit him hardest. 'What cowards they are!' The men went on with their work, not noticing him, and probably not knowing him. The dinner had been done by contract, and the contractor's foreman was there. The care of the house and the alterations had been confided to another contractor, and his foreman was waiting to see the place locked up. A confidential clerk, who had been with Melmotte for years, and who knew his ways, was there also to guard the property. 'Good night, Croll,' he said to the man in German. Croll touched his hat and bade him good night. Melmotte listened anxiously to the tone of the man's voice, trying to catch from it some indication of the mind within. Did Croll know of these rumours, and if so, what did he think of them? Croll had known him in some perilous circumstances before, and had helped him through them. He paused a moment as though he would ask a question, but resolved at last that silence would be safest. 'You'll see everything safe, eh, Croll?' Croll said that he would see everything safe, and Melmotte passed out into the Square.
He had not far to go, round through Berkeley Square into Bruton Street, but he stood for a few moments looking up at the bright stars. If he could be there, in one of those unknown distant worlds, with all his present intellect and none of his present burdens, he would, he thought, do better than he had done here on earth. If he could even now put himself down nameless, fameless, and without possessions in some distant corner of the world, he could, he thought, do better. But he was Augustus Melmotte, and he must bear his burdens, whatever they were, to the end. He could reach no place so distant but that he would be known and traced.