“How will you get hold of Mountjoy?” asked Augustus.  Then the two older men only looked at each other.  Both of them believed that Augustus knew more about his brother than any one else.  “I think you had better send to Mr. Annesley and ask him.”

“What does Annesley know about him?” asked the squire.

“He was the last person who saw him, at any rate, in London.”

“Are you sure of that?” said Mr. Grey.

“I think I may say that I am.  I think, at any rate, that I know that there was a violent quarrel between them in the streets,—­a quarrel in which the two men proceeded to blows,—­and that Annesley struck him in such a way as to leave him for dead upon the pavement.  Then the young man walked away, and Mountjoy has not been heard of, or, at least, has not been seen since.  That a man should have struck such a blow, and then, on the spur of the moment, thinking of his own safety, should have left his opponent, I can understand.  I should not like to be accused of such treatment myself, but I can understand it.  I cannot understand that the man should have been missing altogether, and that then he should have held his tongue.”

“How do you know all this?” asked the attorney.

“It is sufficient that I do know it.”

“I don’t believe a word of it,” said the squire.

“Coming from you, of course I must put up with any contradiction,” said Augustus.  “I should not bear it from any one else,” and he looked at the attorney.

“One has a right to ask for your authority,” said his father.

“I cannot give it.  A lady is concerned whose name I shall not mention.  But it is of less importance, as his own friends are acquainted with the nature of his conduct.  Indeed, it seems odd to see you two gentlemen so ignorant as to the matter which has been a subject of common conversation in most circles.  His uncle means to cut him out from the property.”

“Can he too deal with entails?” said the squire.

“He is still in middle life, and he can marry.  That is what he intended to do, so much is he disgusted with his nephew.  He has already stopped the young man’s allowance, and swears that he shall not have a shilling of his money if he can help it.  The police for some time were in great doubt whether they would not arrest him.  I think I am justified in saying that he is a thorough reprobate.”

“You are not at all justified,” said the father.

“I can only express my opinion, and am glad to say that the world agrees with me.”

“It is sickening, absolutely sickening,” said the squire, turning to the attorney.  “You would not believe, now—­”

But he stopped himself.  “What would not Mr. Grey believe?” asked the son.

“There is no one one knows better than you that after the row in the street,—­when Mountjoy was, I believe, the aggressor,—­he was again seen by another person.  I hate such deceit and scheming.”  Here Augustus smiled.  “What are you sniggering there at, you blockhead?”