He did at last consent to take the papers in his hands, and to read them through with care.  He took them away with that promise, and with an assurance that he would bring them back on the day but one following—­should Mr. Scarborough then be alive.

Mr. Scarborough, who seemed at that moment to have much life in him, insisted on this proviso:—­

“The surgeon is to be here to-morrow, you know, and his coming may mean a great deal.  You will have the papers, which are quite clear, and will know what to do.  I shall see Mountjoy myself this evening.  I suppose he will have the grace to come, as he does not know what he is coming for.”

Then the father smiled again, and the lawyer went.

Mr. Scarborough, though he was very strong of heart, did have some misgivings as the time came at which he was to see his son.  The communication which he had to make was certainly one of vital importance.  His son had some time since instigated him to come to terms with the “family creditors,” as the captain boldly called them.

“Seeing that I never owed a shilling in my life, or my father before me, it is odd that I should have family creditors,” the father had answered.

“The property has, then, at any rate,” the son had said, with a scowl.

But that was now twelve months since, before mankind and the Jews among them had heard of Mr. Scarborough’s illness.  Now, there could be no question of dealing on favorable terms with these gentlemen.  Mr. Scarborough was, therefore, aware that the evil thing which he was about to say to his son would have lost its extreme bitterness.  It did not occur to him that, in making such a revelation as to his son’s mother he would inflict any great grief on his son’s heart.  To be illegitimate would be, he thought, nothing unless illegitimacy carried with it loss of property.  He hardly gave weight enough to the feeling that the eldest son was the eldest son, and too little to the triumph which was present to his own mind in saving the property for one of the family.  Augustus was but the captain’s brother, but he was the old squire’s son.  The two brothers had hitherto lived together on fairly good terms, for the younger had been able to lend money to the elder, and the elder had found his brother neither severe or exacting.  How it might be between them when their relations with each other should be altogether changed, Mr. Scarborough did not trouble himself to inquire.  The captain by his own reckless folly had lost his money, had lost all that fortune would have given him as his father’s eldest son.  After having done so, what could it matter to him whether he were legitimate or illegitimate?  His brother, as possessor of Tretton Park, would be able to do much more for him than could be expected from a professional man working for his bread.

Mr. Scarborough had looked at the matter all round for the space of two years, and during the latter year had slowly resolved on his line of action.  He had had no scruple in passing off his eldest-born as legitimate, and now would have none in declaring the truth to the world.  What scruple need he have, seeing that he was so soon about to leave the world?