“That’s Grenard Pike,” whispered the boy.  “You may be sure that the Squire is not far off.”

“I must see Mr. Hurdlestone.  I cannot wait until he returns,” said Algernon, walking into the house “I ought, I think, to be no stranger here.”

A small spare man, with sharp features, a brown leather face, thin lank black hair, and eyes like a snake, drew back from the door, as Algernon thus unceremoniously effected an entrance.  His partner in penury, the miser, was seated at an old oak table making arithmetical calculations upon a bit of broken slate.

The tall stately figure of Mark Hurdlestone was, at this period, still unbent with age, and he rose from his seat, his face flushed with anger at being detected in sanctioning an untruth.  His quick eye recognised his brother, and he motioned to him to take a seat on the bench near him.

It was not in the nature of the miser to consider Algernon a welcome visitor.  He was continually haunted by the recollection of the ten thousand pounds that remorse had extorted from him, in the evil hour when death stared him in the face, and the fear of future punishment, for a brief season, triumphed over the besetting sin.  He could not forgive Algernon for this dreadful sacrifice; and but for very shame would have asked him to return the money, giving him a bond to restore it at his death.

“Well, brother,” he began, in his usual ungracious tones, “what business brings you here?”

“I came to ask of you a favor,” said Algernon, seating himself, and drawing the little Anthony between his knees; “one which I hope that you will not refuse to grant.”

“Humph!” said Mark.  “I must tell you, without mincing the matter brother Algernon, that I never grant favors in any shape.  That I never ask favors of any one.  That I never lend money, or borrow money.  That I never require security for myself of others, or give my name as security to them.  If such is your errand to me you may expect, what you will find—­disappointment.”

“Fortunately my visit to you has nothing to do with money.  Nor do I think that the favor I am about to ask will cause you to make the least sacrifice.  Will you give me this boy?”

The novel request created some surprise, it was so different from the one the miser expected.  He looked from the ragged child to his fashionably-dressed brother, then to the child again, as if doubtful what answer to return.  The living brown skeleton, Pike, slipped softly across the room to his side; and a glance of peculiar meaning shot from his rat-like eyes, into the dark, deep-set, searching orbs of the miser.

“What do you think of it, Pike?  Hey!”

“It is too good an offer to be refused,” whispered the avaricious satellite, who always looked upon himself as the miser’s heir.  “Take him at his word.”

“What do you want with the child?” said Mark, turning to his brother.  “Have you not a son of your own?”