himself, bowing.
"I regret I was not able to come before, sir," he said primly.
"I make no doubt you travelled back as quickly as possible–come in, sir."
He led the lawyer into the room and shut the door.
"Sit down, Warburton–sit down. You–you found my brother?"
Again Warburton bowed.
"I had the felicity of seeing his lordship, sir."
"He was well? In good spirits? You thought him changed–yes? Aged perhaps, or—"
"His lordship was not greatly changed, sir."
Richard almost stamped in his impatience.
"Come, Warburton, come! Tell me everything. What did he say? Will he take the revenues? Will he—"
"His lordship, sir, was reluctant to take anything, but upon maturer consideration, he–ah–consented to accept his elder son's portion. The revenues of the estate he begs you will make use of."
"Ah! But you told him that I would touch nought belonging to him?"
"I tried to persuade his lordship, sir. To no avail. He desires you to use Wyncham as you will."
"I'll not touch his money!"
Warburton gave the faintest of shrugs.
"That is as you please, sir."
Something in the suave voice made Richard, from his stand by the desk, glance sharply down at the lawyer. Suspicion flashed into his eyes. He seemed about to speak, when Warburton continued:
"I believe I may set your mind at rest on one score, Mr. Carstares: his lordship's situation is tolerably comfortable. He has ample means."
"But–but he lives by–robbery!"
Warburton's thin lips curled a little.
"Does he not?" persisted Carstares.
"So he would have us believe, sir."
"'Tis true! He–waylaid me!"
"And robbed you, sir?"
"Rob me? He could not rob his own brother Warburton!"
"Your pardon, Mr. Carstares–you are right: his lordship could not rob a brother. Yet have I known a man do such a thing."
For a long minute there was no word spoken. The suspicion that had dwelt latent in Carstares' eyes, sprang up again. Some of the colour drained from his cheeks, and twice he passed his tongue between his lips. The fingers of his hand, gripping a chairback, opened and shut spasmodically. Rather feverishly his eyes searched the lawyer's face, questioning.
"John told you–told you—" he started, and floundered hopelessly.
"His lordship told me nothing, sir. He was singularly reticent. But there was nothing he could tell me that I did not already know."
"What do you mean, Warburton? Why do you look at me like that? Why do you fence with me? In plain words, what do you mean?"
Warburton rose, clenching his hands.
"I know you, Master Richard, for what you are!"
"Ah!" Carstares flung out his hand as if to ward off a blow.
Another tense silence. With a great effort Warburton controlled himself, and once more the mask of impassivity seemed to descend upon him. After that one tortured cry Richard became calm again. He sat down; on his face a look almost of relief, coming after a great strain.
"You learnt the truth. . . from John. He. . . will expose me?"
"No, sir. I have not learnt it from him. And he will never expose you."
Richard turned his head. His eyes, filled now with a species of dull pain, looked full into Warburton's.
"Oh?" he said. "Then you. . . ?"
"Nor I, sir. I have pledged my word to his lordship. I would not speak all these years for your father's sake–now it is for his." He choked.
"You. . . are fond of John?" Still the apathetic, weary voice.
"Fond of him? Good God, Master Dick, I love him!"
"And I," said Richard, very low.
He received no reply, and looked up.
"You don't believe me?"
"Once, sir, I was certain of it. Now–!" he shrugged.
"Yet 'tis true, Warburton. I would give all in my power to undo that night's work."
"You cannot expect me to believe that, sir. It rests with you alone whether his name be cleared or not. And you remain silent."
"Warburton, I— Oh, do you think it means nothing to me that John is outcast?"
Before the misery in those grey eyes some of Warburton's severity fell away from him.
"Master