’She was willing, too, till Lady Jocelyn came and took Miss Bonner home to Beckley, and because Evan had written to my lady to fetch her, the Countess—­she was angry.  That was all.  Because of that, you know.  But yet she agreed.  But when Miss Bonner had gone, it turned out that the Major was the obstacle.  They were all willing enough to have Evan there, but the Major refused.  I didn’t hear him.  I wasn’t going to ask him.  I mayn’t be a match for three women, but man to man, eh, Tom?  You’d back me there?  So Harry said the Major ’d make Caroline miserable, if his wishes were disrespected.  By George, I wish I’d know, then.  Don’t you think it odd, Tom, now?  There’s a Duke of Belfield the fellow had hooked into his Company; and—­through Evan I heard—­the Duke had his name struck off.  After that, the Major swore at the Duke once or twice, and said Caroline wasn’t to go out with him.  Suddenly, he insists that she shall go.  Days the poor thing kept crying!  One day, he makes her go.  She hasn’t the spirit of my Harry or the Countess.  By good luck, Van, who was hunting ferns for some friends of his, met them on Sunday in Richmond Park, and Van took her away from the Duke.  But, Tom, think of Van seeing a fellow watching her wherever she went, and hearing the Duke’s coachman tell that fellow he had orders to drive his master and a lady hard on to the sea that night.  I don’t believe it—­it wasn’t Caroline!  But what do you think of our finding out that beast of a spy to be in the Major’s pay?  We did.  Van put a constable on his track; we found him out, and he confessed it.  A fact, Tom!  That decided me.  If it was only to get rid of a brute, I determined I ’d do it, and I did.  Strike came to me to get my name for a bill that night.  ’Gad, he looked blanker than his bill when he heard of us two bankrupt.  I showed him one or two documents I’d got ready.  Says he:  “Never mind; it’ll only be a couple of hundred more in the schedule.”  Stop, Tom! he’s got some of our blood.  I don’t think he meant it.  He is hard pushed.  Well, I gave him a twentier, and he was off the next night.  You ‘ll soon see all about the Company in the papers.’

At the conclusion of Andrew’s recital, Old Tom thrummed and looked on the floor under a heavy frown.  His mouth worked dubiously, and, from moment to moment, he plucked at his waistcoat and pulled it down, throwing back his head and glaring.

’I ‘ve knocked that fellow over once,’ he said.  ’Wish he hadn’t got up again.’

Andrew nodded.

’One good thing, Nan.  He never boasted of our connection.  Much obliged to him.’

‘Yes,’ said Andrew, who was gladly watching Old Tom’s change of mood with a quiescent aspect.

‘Um!—­must keep it quiet from his poor old mother.’