“You are Mr. Grey, I believe?”

“That is my name.”

“My friend, Augustus Scarborough, is particularly anxious to see you before you go to his father.  The old man is in very failing health, you know.”

“I am well acquainted with the state of Mr. Scarborough’s health,” said Mr. Grey, “and will leave it to himself to say when I shall see him.  Perhaps to-morrow will be best.”  Then he rung the bell; but the servant entered the room at the same moment and summoned him up to the squire’s chamber.  Mr. Scarborough also wished to see Mr. Grey before his son, and had been on the alert to watch for his coming.

On the landing he met Miss Scarborough.  “He does seem to keep up his strength,” said the lady.  “Mr. Merton is living in the house now, and watches him very closely.”  Mr. Merton was a resident young doctor, whom Sir William Brodrick had sent down to see that all medical appliances were at hand as the sick man might require them.  Then Mr. Grey was shown in, and found the squire recumbent on a sofa, with a store of books within his reach, and reading apparatuses of all descriptions, and every appliance which the ingenuity of the skilful can prepare for the relief of the sick and wealthy.

“This is very kind of you, Mr. Grey,” said the squire, speaking in a cheery voice.  “I wanted you to come very much, but I hardly thought that you would take the trouble.  Augustus is here, you know.”

“So I have heard from that gentleman down-stairs.”

“Mr. Jones?  I have never had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Jones.  What sort of a gentleman is Mr. Jones to look at?”

“Very much like other gentlemen.”

“I dare say.  He has done me the honor to stay a good deal at my house lately.  Augustus never comes without him.  He is ‘Fidus Achates,’ I take it, to Augustus.  Augustus has never asked whether he can be received.  Of course it does not matter.  When a man is the eldest son, and, so to say, the only one, he is apt to take liberties with his father’s house.  I am so sorry that in my position I cannot do the honors and receive him properly.  He is a very estimable and modest young man, I believe?” As Mr. Grey had not come down to Tretton either to be a spy on Mr. Jones or to answer questions concerning him, he held his tongue.  “Well, Mr. Grey, what do you think about it;—­eh?” This was a comprehensive question, but Mr. Grey well understood its purport.  What did he, Mr. Grey, think of the condition to which the affairs of Tretton had been brought, and those of Mr. Scarborough himself and of his two sons?  What did he think of Mountjoy, who had disappeared and was still absent?  What did he think of Augustus, who was not showing his gratitude in the best way for all that had been done for him?  And what did he think of the squire himself, who from his death-bed had so well contrived to have his own way in everything,—­to do all manner of illegal things without paying any of the penalties to which illegality is generally subject?  And having asked the question he paused for an answer.