“I say nothing of that,” said Mr. Tyrrwhit.

“But if you have been led into your present difficulty by an illegal attempt on the part of my client to prove an illegitimate son to have been legitimate, and then to have changed his mind for certain purposes, I do not see how you are to punish him.  The act will have been attempted and not completed.  And it will have been an act concerning his son and not concerning you.”

“Not concerning me!” shrieked Mr. Tyrrwhit.

“Certainly not, legally.  You are not in a position to prove that he knew that his son was borrowing money from you on the credit of the estate.  As a fact he certainly did not know it.”

“We shall see about that,” said Mr. Tyrrwhit.

“Then you must see about it, but not with my aid.  As a fact I am telling you all that I know about it.  If I could I would prove Mountjoy Scarborough to be his father’s heir to-morrow.  Indeed, I am altogether on your side in the matter,—­if you would believe it.”  Here Mr. Tyrrwhit again laughed.  “But you will not believe it, and I do not ask you to do so.  As it is we must be opposed to each other.”

“Where is the young man?” asked Mr. Tyrrwhit.

“Ah, that is a question I am not bound to answer, even if I knew.  It is a matter on which I say nothing.  You have lent him money, at an exorbitant rate of interest.”

“It is not true.”

“At any rate it seems so to me; and it is out of the question that I should assist you in recovering it.  You did it at your own peril, and not on my advice.  Good-morning, Mr. Tyrrwhit.”  Then Mr. Tyrrwhit went his way, not without sundry threats as to the whole Scarborough family.

It was very hard upon Mr. Grey, because he certainly was an honest man and had taken up the matter simply with a view of learning the truth.  It had been whispered to him within the last day or two that Mountjoy Scarborough had lately been seen alive, and gambling with reckless prodigality, at Monte Carlo.  It had only been told to him as probably true, but he certainly believed it.  But he knew nothing of the details of his disappearance, and had not been much surprised, as he had never believed that the young man had been murdered or had made away with himself.  But he had heard before that of the quarrel in the street between him and Harry Annesley; and the story had been told to him so as to fall with great discredit on Harry Annesley’s head.

According to that story Harry Annesley had struck his foe during the night and had left him for dead upon the pavement.  Then Mountjoy Scarborough had been missing, and Harry Annesley had told no one of the quarrel.  There had been some girl in question.  So much and no more Mr. Grey had heard, and was, of course, inclined to think that Harry Annesley must have behaved very badly.  But of the mode of Mountjoy’s subsequent escape he had heard nothing.