The respect generally felt for him was too high; and he carried himself before his partner and clerks too powerfully to lose at once his prestige.  But Mr. Barry, when he heard the new story, looked at his own favorite clerk and almost winked an eye; and when he came to discuss the matter with Mr. Grey, he declined even to pretend to be led at once by Mr. Grey’s opinion.  “A gentleman who has been so very clever on one occasion may be very clever on another.”  That had been his argument.  Mr. Grey’s reply had simply been to the effect that you cannot twice catch an old bird with chaff.  Mr. Barry seemed, however, to think, in discussing the matter with the favorite clerk, that the older the bird became, the more often he could be caught with chaff.

Mr. Grey in these days was very unhappy,—­not made so simply by the iniquity of his client, but by the insight which he got into his partner’s aptitude for business.  He began to have his doubts about Mr. Barry.  Mr. Barry was tending toward sharp practice.  Mr. Barry was beginning to love his clients,—­not with a proper attorney’s affection, as his children, but as sheep to be shorn.  With Mr. Grey the bills had gone out and had been paid, no doubt, and the money had in some shape found its way into Mr. Grey’s pockets.  But he had never looked at the two things together.  Mr. Barry seemed to be thinking of the wool as every client came or was dismissed.  Mr. Grey, as he thought of these things, began to fancy that his own style of business was becoming antiquated.  He had said good words of Mr. Barry to his daughter, but just at this period his faith both in himself and in his partner began to fail.  His partner was becoming too strong for him, and he felt that he was failing.  Things were changed; and he did not love his business as he used to do.  He had fancies, and he knew that he had fancies, and that fancies were not good for an attorney.  When he saw what was in Mr. Barry’s mind as to this new story from Tretton, he became convinced that Dolly was right.  Dolly was not fit, he thought, to be Mr. Barry’s wife.  She might have been the wife of such another as himself, had the partner been such another.  But it was not probable that any partner should have been such as he was.  “Old times are changed,” he said to himself; “old manners gone.”  Then he determined that he would put his house in order, and leave the firm.  A man cannot leave his work forever without some touch of melancholy.

But it was necessary that some one should go to Rummelsburg and find what could be learned there.  Mr. Grey had sworn that he would have nothing to do with the new story, as soon as the new story had been told to him; but it soon became apparent to him that he must have to do with it.  As soon as the breath should be out of the old squire’s body, some one must take possession of Tretton, and Mountjoy would be left in the house.  In accordance with Mr. Grey’s theory, Augustus would be the proper