“We’ll see about that,” said Mr. Juniper.  “As soon as the breath is out of the old squire’s body we’ll see whether his son is to repudiate his debts in that way.  Ain’t that the captain’s signature?” and he slapped the bill with his hand.

The old ceremony was gone through of explaining that the captain had no right to a shilling of the property.  It had become an old ceremony now.  “Mr. Augustus Scarborough is going to pay out of his own good will only those sums of the advance of which he has indisputable testimony.”

“Ain’t he my testimony of this?” said Mr. Juniper.

“This bill is for six hundred pounds.”

“In course it is.”

“Why don’t you say you advanced him five hundred and fifty pounds instead of three hundred and fifty pounds?”

“Because I didn’t.”

“Why do you say three hundred and fifty pounds instead of one hundred and fifty pounds?”

“Because I did.”

“Then we have only your bare word.  We are not going to pay any one a shilling on such a testimony.”  Then Mr. Juniper had sworn an awful oath that he would have every man bearing the name of Scarborough hanged.  But Mr. Barry’s firm did not care much for any law proceedings which might be taken by Mr. Juniper alone.  No law proceedings would be taken.  The sum to be regained would not be worth the while of any lawyer to insure the hopeless expense of fighting such a battle.  It would be shown in court, on Mr. Barry’s side, that the existing owner of the estate, out of his own generosity, had repaid all sums of money as to which evidence existed that they had been advanced to the unfortunate illegitimate captain.  They would appear with clean hands; but poor Mr. Juniper would receive the sympathy of none.  Of this Mr. Juniper had by degrees become aware, and was already looking on his claim on the Scarborough property as lost.  And now, on this other little affair of his, on this matrimonial venture, it was very hard that inquiries as to his character should be referred to the same Mr. Barry.

“I’m d——­ if I stand it!” he said, thumping his fist down on Mr. Carroll’s bed, on which he was sitting.

“It isn’t any of my doing.  I’m on the square with you.”

“I don’t know so much about that.”

“What have I done?  Didn’t I send her to the girl’s uncle, and didn’t she get from him a very liberal promise?”

“Promises!  Why didn’t he stump up the rhino?  What’s the good of promises?  There’s as much to do about a beggarly five hundred pounds as though it were fifty thousand pounds.  Inquiries!” Of course he knew very well what that meant.  “It’s a most ungentlemanlike thing for one gentleman to take upon himself to make inquiries about another.  He is not the girl’s father.  What right has he to make inquiries?”

“I didn’t put it into his head,” said Carroll, almost sobbing.

“He must be a low-bred, pettifogging lawyer.”