Chapter 13

ANGEL AND DEVIL.

Tyrrel left Erasmus Walker's house that morning in a turmoil of
mingled exultation and fear. At least he had done his best to atone
for the awful results of his boyish act of criminal thoughtlessness.
He had tried to make it possible for Cleer to marry Eustace, and
thereby to render the Trevennacks happier in their sonless old age;
and what was more satisfactory still, he had crippled himself in doing
it. There was comfort even in that. Expiation, reparation! He wouldn't
have cared for the sacrifice so much if it had cost him less. But it
would cost him dear indeed. He must set to work at once now and raise
the needful sum by mortgaging Penmorgan up to the hilt to do it.

After all, of course, the directors might choose some other design
than Eustace's. But he had done what he could. And he would hope for
the best, at any rate. For Cleer's sake, if the worst came, he would
have risked and lost much. While if Cleer's life was made happy, he
would be happy in the thought of it.

He hailed another hansom, and drove off, still on fire, to his
lawyer's in Victoria Street. On the way, he had to go near Paddington
Station. He didn't observe, as he did so, a four-wheel cab that passed
him with luggage on top, from Ivybridge to London. It was the
Trevennacks, just returned from their holiday on Dartmoor. But Michael
Trevennack had seen him; and his brow grew suddenly dark. He pinched
his nails into his palm at sight of that hateful creature, though not
a sound escaped him; for Cleer was in the carriage, and the man was
Eustace's friend. Trevennack accepted Eustace perforce, after that
night on Michael's Crag; for he knew it was politic; and indeed, he
liked the young man himself well enough--there was nothing against him
after all, beyond his friendship with Tyrrel; but had it not been for
the need for avoiding scandal after the adventure on the rock, he
would never have allowed Cleer to speak one word to any friend or
acquaintance of her brother's murderer.

As it was, however, he never alluded to Tyrrel in any way before
Cleer. He had learnt to hold his tongue. Madman though he was, he knew
when to be silent.

That evening at home, Cleer had a visit from Eustace, who came round
to tell her how Tyrrel had been to see the great engineer, Erasmus
Walker; and how it was all a mistake that Walker was going to send in
plans for the Wharfedale Viaduct--nay, how the big man had approved of
his own design, and promised to give it all the support in his power.
For Tyrrel was really an awfully kind friend, who had pushed things
for him like a brick, and deserved the very best they could both of
them say about him.

But of course Eustace hadn't the faintest idea himself by