“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 would 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
