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Glyddyr involuntarily glanced at himself in a mirrored panel at the side of the saloon.
"Change all that, dear boy. That's where I come in so useful, you see."
Glyddyr moved impatiently.
"You see, I'm not a lawyer, but I'm quite as good, or better. There are not many legal dodges I'm not up to, and you can take me with you to the house, introduce me to the young lady, and I can put her up to saving hundreds in rental on the estates. When are you going next?"
"I don't know."
"You'll want a bit of money, too. Don't stint yourself--I'm at your back all ready, so that you may cut it fat right through. By George, Glyddyr, you are lucky. The estate is about as good as a million of money."
"How do you know?" said Glyddyr savagely.
"How do I know, man?" said Gellow, laughing. "Used my wits. Fine thing wits. You began life with a pot of money. I began life with tuppence.
But it's you fellows who get the luck, and turn out millionaires."
"Look here, Mr Gellow--"
"Nonsense, nonsense, man. How huffy you will be to your best friend!
Come, you must want my help, so let's talk business over quietly. When are you going over yonder?"
"I told you I don't know."
"Gammon! Don't be absurd, man, and talk rough just because we were a little out last time I was down. That's all over. You talk as if you wanted to throw me over, and get your millions without my help; but you can't do it, my dear boy. Let alone what you owe me, you know, I must stand in here."
"Stand in! What do you mean?"
"You know."
"Why, you scoundrel--"
"Now, there you go again. You force me to take up the cudgels in my defence."
"Leave this room."
"Cabin, dear boy, cabin. But what for? To go ash.o.r.e, walk up to Gartram's Fort--I mean Glyddyr's Fort, if I like it to be--ask to see the young lady, and tell her exactly what you are, and how you stand with a certain person."
Glyddyr stared at him helplessly.
"No: you wouldn't drive me to do such a thing--such a cowardly thing as it really would be--in self-defence. No, no, my dear boy; you are really too hard on an old friend--far too hard."
Glyddyr's teeth grated together in his impotent rage.
"Come, come, come, shake hands, and let me help you to pay your debts like a gentleman, and to drop into this good thing easily and nicely as can be."
There was no response.
"Tell me how matters stand. I know pretty well, but I should like to hear from you."
"You'll hear nothing from me."
"Very well. I'll tell you what I know. You can correct me where I am wrong, eh? Now, then, to begin with. Papa told the young lady she was to marry you. That ought to be good enough to carry the day, but-- there's your little but again--there's a gentleman, a Mr Christopher Lisle--old friend, playmate, and the rest of it--whom the lady likes, eh?"
Glyddyr uttered an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n.
"And then there's something else on. Tall, big gent stopping at the house. Young lady and he are shut up together a deal."
"How do you know all this?" cried Glyddyr, thrown off his guard by a dread lest, after all, Claude should escape him.
"How do I know? Now, come; isn't there a tall, biggish gent staying at the house?"
Glyddyr nodded.
"Of course there is. I don't say things unless they are right. Now, what does he want?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know! Well, how long has he been there?"
"I don't know that either."
Gellow sat up suddenly, and glared at Glyddyr.
"Look here; you are not playing with a good thing, are you?"
Glyddyr shook his head.
"When were you there last?"
"Mr Gellow, I object to the line of cross-examination that you are taking."
"Do you? Then look here, Mr Parry Glyddyr, you'll have to object. If you don't know what's good for you, I must. Now, then: when were you there last?"
"I have not been there since Mr Gartram died."
"Well, I am!" cried Gellow. "You're engaged to the young lady, and haven't been since the father's death. Why?"
Glyddyr was silent.
"Good heavens, man, don't turn stunt like that. There isn't a tiff on, is there?"
"I felt it better not to go near the house while the poor girl is in so much trouble."
"Hark at him!" cried Gellow excitedly, "when every day he stops away may mean ten thousand pounds."
"She may have been ill, and I have been unwell," said Glyddyr sullenly.
"And all the time the old man's money might be running down the sink hole, or into the poor relatives' pockets. What are you at?"