that accidental meeting with Mr. Hart at Monte Carlo.  That idiot of a keeper of his had been unable to keep Mountjoy from the gambling-house.  But Mr. Hart had as yet told nothing.  Mr. Hart was playing some game of his own, in which he would assuredly be foiled.  The strong hold which Augustus had was in the great infirmity of his father and in the blindness of Mr. Grey, but it would be settled.  It ought to have been well that the thing should be settled already by his father’s death.  Augustus did feel strongly that the squire ought to complete his work by dying.  Were the story, as now told by him, true, he ought certainly to die, so as to make speedy atonement for his wickedness.  Were it false, then he ought to go quickly, so that the lie might be effectual.  Every day that he continued to live would go far to endanger the discovery.  Augustus felt that he must at once have the property in his own hands, so as to buy the creditors and obtain security.

Mr. Grey, who was not so blind as Augustus thought him, saw a great deal of this.  Augustus suspected him as well as the squire.  His mind went backward and forward on these suspicions.  It was more probable that the squire should have contrived all this with the attorney’s assistance than without it.  The two, willing it together, might be very powerful.  But then Mr. Grey would hardly dare to do it.  His father knew that he was dying; but Mr. Grey had no such easy mode of immediate escape if detected.  And his father was endowed with a courage as peculiar as it was great.  He did not think that Mr. Grey was so brave a man as his father.  And then he could trace the payment of no large sum to Mr. Grey,—­such as would have been necessary as a bribe in such a case.  Augustus suspected Mr. Grey, on and off.  But Mr. Grey was sure that Augustus suspected his own father.  Now, of one thing Mr. Grey was certain:—­Augustus was, in truth, the rightful heir.  The squire had at first contrived to blind him,—­him, Mr. Grey,—­partly by his own acuteness, partly through the carelessness of himself and those in his office, partly by the subornation of witnesses who seemed to have been actually prepared for such an event.  But there could be no subsequent blinding.  Mr. Grey had a well-earned reputation for professional acuteness and honesty.  He knew there was no need for such suspicions as those now entertained by the young man; but he knew also that they existed, and he hated the young man for entertaining them.

When he arrived at Tretton Park he first of all saw Mr. Septimus Jones, with whom he was not acquainted.  “Mr. Scarborough will be here directly.  He is out somewhere about the stables,” said Mr. Jones, in that tone of voice with which a guest at the house,—­a guest for pleasure,—­may address sometimes a guest who is a guest on business.  In such a case the guest on pleasure cannot be a gentleman, and must suppose that the guest on business is not one either.

Mr. Grey, thinking that the Mr. Scarborough spoken of could not be the squire, put Mr. Jones right.  “It is the elder Mr. Scarborough whom I wish to see.  There is quite time enough.  No doubt Miss Scarborough will be down presently.”