"Kirby," said Mr. Brassington, in tones quite new and dreadfully solemn, "I 've a son myself … but that young man shall suffer the full weight of the law!"
Mr. Kirby was looking out of the window.
"What young man?" he said innocently.
"James McAuley," said Mr. Brassington in a slow, deep tone, making the most of the long vowel.
"How do you know he 's a young man?" said Mr. Kirby, looking round with interest.
"How do I know?" shouted Mr. Brassington, beginning to storm again. "Why, that 's the impudent scoundrel that robbed my poor son, sir! Robbed him at cards! And I tell you what, Kirby," he added, his voice rising more and more angrily, "I tell you what, he 's calculating on it, that's what he 's doing. He 's counting on my wanting to hush it up. My wanting to hush up my poor son's fatal weakness."
"Fatal what?" said Mr. Kirby.
"Weakness,"said Mr. Brassington, suddenly pulled up.
"Oh!" said Mr. Kirby quite coolly. "So he 's the chap that forged the cheque, is he?"
"Of course!" said the indignant Mr. Brassington.
