“Your hatred, sir, at deceit and scheming.  The truth is that when a man plays a game well, he does not like to find that he has any equal.  Heaven forbid that I should say that there is rivalry here.  You, sir, are so pre-eminently the first that no one can touch you.”  Then he laughed long,—­a low, bitter, inaudible laugh,—­during which Mr. Grey sat silent.

“This comes well from you!” said the father.

“Well, sir, you would try your hand upon me.  I have passed over all that you have done on my behalf.  But when you come to abuse me I cannot quite take your words as calmly as though there had been—­no, shall I say, antecedents?  Now about this money.  Are we to pay it?”

“I don’t care one straw about the money.  What is it to me?  I don’t owe these creditors anything.”

“Nor do I.”

“Let them rest, then, and do the worst they can.  But upon the whole, Mr. Grey,” he added, after a pause, “I think we had better pay them.  They have endeavored to be insolent to me, and I have therefore ignored their claim.  I have told them to do their worst.  If my son here will agree with you in raising the money, and if Mountjoy,—­as he, too, is necessary,—­will do so, I too will do what is required of me.  If eighty thousand pounds will settle it all, there ought not to be any difficulty.  You can inquire what the real amount would be.  If they choose to hold to their bonds, nothing will come of it;—­that’s all.”

“Very well, Mr. Scarborough.  Then I shall know how to proceed.  I understand that Mr. Scarborough, junior, is an assenting party?” Mr. Scarborough, junior, signified his assent by nodding his head.

“That will do, then, for I think that I have a little exhausted myself.”  Then he turned round upon his couch, as though he intended to slumber.  Mr. Grey left the room, and Augustus followed him, but not a word was spoken between them.  Mr. Grey had an early dinner and went up to London by an evening train.  What became of Augustus he did not inquire, but simply asked for his dinner and for a conveyance to the train.  These were forthcoming, and he returned that night to Fulham.

“Well?” said Dolly, as soon as she had got him his slippers and made him his tea.

“I wish with all my heart I had never seen any one of the name of Scarborough!”

“That is of course;—­but what have you done?”

“The father has been a great knave.  He has set the laws of his country at defiance, and should be punished most severely.  And Mountjoy Scarborough has proved himself to be unfit to have any money in his hands.  A man so reckless is little better than a lunatic.  But compared with Augustus they are both estimable, amiable men.  The father has ideas of philanthropy, and Mountjoy is simply mad.  But Augustus is as dishonest as either of them, and is odious also all round.”  Then at length he explained all that he had learned, and all that he had advised, and at last went to bed combating Dolly’s idea that the Scarboroughs ought now to be thrown over altogether.