Without Elsley's knowledge, a messenger was despatched for Thurnall, and luckily met him in the lane; for he was returning to the town in the footsteps of his victim.
Elsley's horror was complete, when the door opened, and Lucia brought in none other than his tormentor.
"My dearest Elsley, I have sent for Mr.Thurnall.I knew you would not let me, if I told you; but you see I have done it, and now you must really speak to him." Elsley's first impulse was to motion them both away angrily; but the thought that he was in Thurnall's power stopped him.

He must not show his disgust.

What if Lucia were to ask its cause, even to guess it?
for to his fears even that seemed possible.

A fresh misery! Just because he shrank so intensely from the man, he must endure him! "There is nothing the matter with me," said he languidly.
"I should be the best judge of that, after what Mrs.Vavasour has just told me," said Tom, in his most professional and civil voice; and slipped, catlike, into a seat beside the unresisting poet.
He asked question on question: but Elsley gave such unsatisfactory answers, that Lucia had to detail everything afresh for him, with--"You know, Mr.Thurnall, he is always overtasking his brain, and will never confess himself ill,"-- and all a woman's anxious comments.
Rogue Tom knew all the while well enough what was the cause: but he saw, too, that Elsley was very ill.

He felt that he must have the matter out at once; and, by a side glance, sent the obedient Lucia out of the room to get a table-spoonful of brandy.
"Now, my dear sir, that we are alone," began he blandly.
"Now, sir!" answered Vavasour, springing off the sofa, his whole pent-up wrath exploding in hissing steam, the moment the safety-valve was lifted.