Roger Ingleton, Minor Part 39

"Look here, Compton," said he, "you're a member of this club. Do we understand you funk this affair?"

"I've something better to do than bother my head about him. Understand what you like. Let me go!"

Fastnet opened the door.

"Clear out!" said he, with an oath; "and don't show your face here again, unless you want to be kicked."

"What do you mean by that?"

"What I say. Be off, or I won't wait till you come again."

Whereupon exit the Honourable Mr Compton with colours dipped.

"Now," said Fastnet, when he had gone, "it is only fair to the youngster here to say that we agree with him in his opinion of our late member.

Eh, you men?"

General a.s.sent greeted the question. Upon which Mr Fastnet suggested that, as the evening had been spoiled, the house do adjourn.

"You'd better come and have supper with me," said he to Roger.

And Roger, feeling his chance had come, accepted.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

"WHEN THE CAT'S AWAY--"

Maxfield Manor, however cheery a place in summer-time, with its household in full swing, was decidedly desolate in dark November weather, with only a housekeeper in charge--that is to say, to any one but the two young persons on whom the honours of the house devolved, it would have appeared dull.

Mr Armstrong delayed his visit to Oxford for some days after the departure of the Captain and Roger. There was a good deal of business to be done in connection with the estate, and as Mr Pottinger discovered, when the second trustee did take it into his head to look into things, it was no child's play. He had an uncomfortable manner, this tutor, of demanding explanations and particulars with all the air of the proprietor himself, and was not to be put off by any dilatory tactics on the part of the official with whom the explanation lay. As in the present case the business transacted was chiefly in connection with leases and conveyances, the unfortunate lawyer had a rough week of it, and felt at the end very much like one of his own clients after a year in Chancery. However, the inquisitor appeared to be fairly well satisfied when all was done, so that Mr Pottinger, who all along had on his mind the uncomfortable consciousness of a few well-hidden irregularities, was doubly relieved when the tutor dropped his gla.s.s finally from his eye and observed--

"I need not trouble you further at present, sir."

It was after this final interview that Mr Armstrong looked in on his friend the doctor.

"I'm off to Oxford for a day or two," said he.

"No attractions here?" asked the doctor.

"Yes--you among others."

"And who's to wash and dress the babies at Maxfield? And who is to keep the wolf from the fold at the Vicarage? and who is to keep an eye on the man of the law across the way?"

"The babes are well qualified to nurture one another. The man of the law is under closer observation than he imagines. As to the wolf, I came to speak to you about that. He may make a descent on the fold, in which case Dr Brandram must go out with swords and staves and give him battle."

The doctor laughed.

"I like your ideas of the medical profession. Its duties are variegated and lively. However, make yourself easy this time. I hear to-day that the young ladies at the Vicarage with their governess are to go on Monday to Devonshire."

"Good," said Mr Armstrong, decidedly relieved.

"When does your ward return?" said the doctor. "I dislike this London business altogether. Oliphant is not to be trusted with a boy of his delicate make. You should have stopped it."

The tutor said nothing, but looked decidedly dejected. He was greatly tempted to confide the difficulties of the situation to his friend. But the dead Squire's secret was not his to give away.

"Unless they come home soon," said he, "I have a notion of returning from Oxford by way of London."

"Do--the sooner the better."

When, on the next day, Miss Rosalind sailed up to Maxfield to bid her brother and sister farewell, it fell to the tutor's lot to escort her back to the Vicarage.

"Mr Armstrong," said she abruptly, as they went, "why have you and Roger quarrelled?"

Mr Armstrong looked round uncomfortably.

"Quarrelled?"

"Yes. Do you suppose he would go away like this for any other reason?

Won't you tell me what it is about?"

"Roger and I have agreed to differ on a certain point. Miss Oliphant.

We have not quarrelled?"

"You cannot trust me, I see, or you would tell me what the trouble is."

"I trust you completely, Miss Oliphant. I will gladly tell you."

Five minutes ago wild horses would not have extorted the confession from him. But somehow or other, as he looked at her standing there, he could not help himself.

"Roger has got an impression that his elder brother is still living, and is to be found; and, if found, that he ought to be made possessor of Maxfield. I am unable to sympathise in what I look upon as an unprofitable quest. That is the whole story."

"Why cannot you back him up, Mr Armstrong?"

"I believe his fancy is utterly groundless; besides which, if the person he believes to be the missing brother is really Roger Ingleton, to discover him would mean disgrace to Maxfield, and an injury to the name of Ingleton."

"What! Mr Armstrong, do you mean to say--"

"I mean to say that Mr Robert Ratman claims to be the lost elder brother, and that Roger credits the story. Miss Oliphant, I am grateful to you for sharing this confidence with me. You can help Roger in this matter better than I can."

She looked at him with a flush in her face, and then replied rather dismally, "I fear not--for, to be as frank with you as you are with me, I am dreadfully afraid Roger is right. The same fancy pa.s.sed through my mind when first I saw Mr Ratman. I had recently been studying the lost brother's portrait, you know, and was struck and horrified by the resemblance. Mr Armstrong," added she, after a pause, "if I were Roger's guardian and tutor, I would stand by him all the more that his duty is an unpleasant one. Thank you; here we are at the gate. Good- bye. I hope you will have a pleasant time at Oxford."

And she pa.s.sed in, leaving the good man in a sad state of bewilderment and perplexity.

He started a day or two later in a somewhat depressed frame of mind for Oxford, where he astonished and delighted most of his old creditors by calling and paying off a further instalment of his debts to them. But his satisfaction in this act of rest.i.tution was sadly tempered by the sense of coercion put upon him by the doctor and Rosalind, and the conviction that, wise or foolish, pleasant or unpleasant, his place was at his young pupil's side. No excuse, or pleadings of a false pride, could dispel the feeling. No, he must climb down, own himself wrong, and sue for permission to a.s.sist in a quest in which he had little faith and still less inclination.

While he is making up his mind, it may be worth the reader's while to remark what was happening at Maxfield.

Tom and Jill woke one morning to discover themselves lord and lady of the situation. In their lamentations, not unmingled with a sense of injury, at the desertion of which they were the victims, it had not occurred to them to realise that there were alleviating circ.u.mstances in their forlorn condition.