“Not in the least,” said Merton, who did not, indeed, very much care about it.

“Nor do I;—­only this, that if he could pay these men and deprive them of all power of obtaining farther payment, let who would have the property, they at any rate would be quiet.  Augustus is now my eldest son.  Perhaps he thinks he might not remain so.  If I were out of the way, and these creditors were paid, he thinks that poor Mountjoy wouldn’t have a chance.  He shall pay this eighty thousand pounds.  Mountjoy hasn’t a chance as it is; but Augustus shall pay the penalty.”

Then he threw himself back on the bed, and Mr. Merton begged him to spare himself the trouble of the letter for the present.  But in a few minutes he was again on his elbow and took some farther medicine.  “I’m a great ass,” he said, “to help Augustus in playing his game.  If I were to go off at once he would be the happiest fellow left alive.  But come, let us begin.”  Then he dictated the letter as follows: 

“Dear Mr. Grey,—­I have been thinking much of what passed between us the other day.  Augustus seems to be in a great hurry as to paying the creditors, and I do not see why he should not be gratified, as the money may now be forthcoming.  I presume that the sales, which will be completed before Christmas, will nearly enable us to stop their mouths.  I can understand that Mountjoy should be induced to join with me and Augustus, so that in disposing of so large a sum of money the authority of all may be given, both of myself and of the heir, and also of him who a short time since was supposed to be the heir.  I think that you may possibly find Mountjoy’s address by applying to Augustus, who is always clever in such matters.

“But you will have to be certain that you obtain all the bonds.  If you can get Tyrrwhit to help you you will be able to be sure of doing so.  The matter to him is one of vital importance, as his sum is so much the largest.  Of course he will open his mouth very wide; but when he finds that he can get his principal and nothing more, I think that he will help you.  I am afraid that I must ask you to put yourself in correspondence with Augustus.  That he is an insolent scoundrel I will admit; but we cannot very well complete this affair without him.  I fancy that he now feels it to be his interest to get it all done before I die, as the men will be clamorous with their bonds as soon as the breath is out of my body.—­

“Yours sincerely, John Scarborough.”

“That will do,” he said, when the letter was finished.  But when Mr. Merton turned to leave the room Mr. Scarborough detained him.  “Upon the whole, I am not dissatisfied with my life,” he said.

“I don’t know that you have occasion,” rejoined Mr. Merton.  In this he absolutely lied, for, according to his thinking, there was very much in the affairs of Mr. Scarborough’s life which ought to have induced regret.  He knew the whole story of the birth of the elder son, of the subsequent marriage, of Mr. Scarborough’s fraudulent deceit which had lasted so many years, and of his later return to the truth, so as to save the property, and to give back to the younger son all of which for so many years he, his father, had attempted to rob him.