“He will guess,” he had said to himself, “that he did not leave him for dead on the ground, or the body would be there to tell the tale.  But he must be ashamed of the part which he took in the street-fight, and be anxious to conceal it.  No doubt Mountjoy was the first offender, but something had occurred which Annesley is unwilling should make its way either to his uncle’s ears, or to his father’s, or to mine, or to the squire’s,—­or to those of Florence.”

It was thus that Augustus Scarborough reasoned with himself when he asked Harry Annesley to dine with him.

It was not supposed by any of his friends that Augustus Scarborough would continue to live in the moderate chambers which he now occupied in the Temple; but he had as yet made no sign of a desire to leave them.  They were up two pair of stairs, and were not great in size; but they were comfortable enough, and even luxurious, as a bachelor’s abode.

“I’ve asked you to come alone,” said Augustus, “because there is such a crowd of things to be talked of about poor Mountjoy which are not exactly fitted for the common ear.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Harry, who did not, however, quite understand why it would be necessary that the heir should discuss with him the affairs of his unfortunate brother.  There had, no doubt, been a certain degree of intimacy between them, but nothing which made it essential that the captain’s difficulties should be exposed to him.  The matter which touched him most closely was the love which both the men had borne to Florence Mountjoy; but Harry did not expect that any allusion to Florence would be made on the present occasion.

“Did you ever hear of such a devil of a mess?” said Augustus.

“No, indeed.  It is not only that he has disappeared—­”

“That is as nothing when compared with all the other incidents of this romantic tale.  Indeed, it is the only natural thing in it.  Given all the other circumstances, I should have foretold his disappearance as a thing certain to occur.  Why shouldn’t such a man disappear, if he can?”

“But how has he done it?” replied Harry.  “Where has he gone to?  At this moment where is he?”

“Ah, if you will answer all those questions, and give your information in Scotland Yard, the creditors, no doubt, will make up a handsome purse for you.  Not that they will ever get a shilling from him, though he were to be seen walking down St. James’s Street to-morrow.  But they are a sanguine gentry, these holders of bills, and I really believe that if they could see him they would embrace him with the warmest affection.  In the mean time let us have some dinner, and we will talk about poor Mountjoy when we have got rid of young Pitcher.  Young Pitcher is my laundress’s son to the use of whose services I have been promoted since I have been known to be the heir of Tretton.”