But he had signed the deed, and the necessity for his presence was over.  What should his brother do with him now?  He could not keep him concealed,—­or not concealed,—­in his rooms.  But something must be done.  Some mode of living must be invented for him.  Abroad!  Augustus said to himself,—­and to Septimus Jones, who was his confidential friend,—­that Mountjoy must live “abroad.”

“Oh yes; he must go abroad.  There’s no doubt about that.  It’s the only place for him.”  So spoke Septimus Jones, who, though confidential friend, was not admitted to the post of confidential adviser.  Augustus liked to have a depositary for his resolutions, but would admit no advice.  And Septimus Jones had become so much his creature that he had to obey him in all things.

We are apt to think that a man may be disposed of by being made go abroad; or, if he is absolutely penniless and useless, by being sent to the colonies,—­that he may become a shepherd and drink himself out of the world.  To kill the man, so that he may be no longer a nuisance, is perhaps the chief object in both cases.  But it was not easy to get the captain to go abroad unless, indeed, he was sent back to Monte Carlo.  Some Monte Carlo, such as a club might be with stakes practically unlimited, was the first desire of his heart.  But behind that, or together with it, was an anxious longing to remain near Tretton and “see it out,” as he called it, when his father should die.  His father must die very shortly, and he would like “to see it out,” as he told Mr. Grey; and, with this wish, there was a longing also for the company of Florence Mountjoy.

He used to tell himself, in those moments of sad thoughts,—­thoughts serious as well as sad, which will come even to a gambler,—­that if he could have Tretton and Florence Mountjoy he would never touch another card.  And there was present to him an assurance that his aunt, Mrs. Mountjoy, would still be on his side.  If he could talk over his circumstances with Mrs. Mountjoy, he thought that he might be encouraged to recover his position as an English gentleman.  His debts at the club had already been paid, and he had met on the sly a former friend, who had given him some hope that he might be re-admitted.  But at the present moment his mind turned to Brussels.  He had learned that Florence and her mother were at the embassy there, and, though he hesitated, still he desired to go.  But this was not the “abroad” contemplated by Augustus.  Augustus did not think it well that his father’s bastard son, who had been turned out of a London club for not paying his card debts, and had then disappeared in a mysterious way for six months, should show himself at the British embassy, and there claim admittance and relationship.  Nor was he anxious that his brother should see Florence Mountjoy.  He had suggested a prolonged tour in South America, which he had declared to be the most interesting country in the world.  “I think I had rather go to Brussels,” Mountjoy had answered, gallantly, keeping his seat in the arm-chair and picking his teeth the while.  This occurred on the evening before that on which we found them just now.  On the morning of that day Mountjoy had had his interview with Mr. Grey.