Part 33 (2/2)

”Guv'nor!” cried the young man, catching his father by the arm in turn; ”put down that cursed candle; you'll burn my face. You don't mean to say the little thing has cut?”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

James Wilton stood for a few moments staring searchingly at his son.

Then, in a sudden access of anger, he rushed to the library door, flung it open, came back, caught the young man by the shoulders, and began to back him in.

”Here, what are you doing, guv'nor? Leave off! Don't do that. Here, why don't you answer my question?”

”Hold your tongue, idiot! Do you suppose I want all the servants to hear what is said? Go in there.”

He gave him a final thrust, and then hurried out to hasten upstairs to where Mrs Wilton stood holding on by the heavy bal.u.s.trade which crossed the hall like a gallery, and rocking herself to and fro.

”Oh, James, I knew it--I knew it!” she sobbed out. ”She's dead--she's dead!”

”Hus.h.!.+ Hold your tongue!” cried her husband. ”Do you want to alarm the house? You'll have all the servants here directly. Come along.”

He drew her arm roughly beneath his, and hurried her down the stairs into the library, thrust her into her son's arms, and then hurried to the hall table for the candle, ending by shutting himself in with them.

”Oh, Claud, Claud, my darling boy!” wailed Mrs Wilton.

”If you don't hold your tongue, Maria, you'll put me in a rage,” growled Wilton, savagely. ”Sit in that chair.”

”Oh, James, James, you shouldn't,” sobbed the poor woman, ”you shouldn't,” as she was plumped down heavily; but she spoke in a whisper.

”Done?” asked Claud, mockingly. ”Then, now p'raps you'll answer my question. Has she bolted?”

”Silence, idiot!” growled his father, so fiercely that the young man backed away from trim in alarm. ”No, don't keep silence, but speak.

You contemptible young hound, do you think you can impose upon me by your question--by your pretended ignorance? Do you think you can impose upon me, I say? Do you think I cannot see through your plans?”

”I say, mater, what's the guv'nor talking about?” cried Claud.

”She's dead--she's dead!”

”Who's dead? What's dead?”

”Answer me, sir,” continued Wilton, backing his son till he could get no farther for the big table. ”Do you think you can impose upon me?”

”Who wants to impose on you, guv'nor?”

”You do, sir. But I see through your miserable plan, and I tell you this. You can't get the money into your own hands to make ducks and drakes of, for I am executor and trustee and guardian, and if there's any law in the land I'll lock up every s.h.i.+lling so that you can't touch it. If you had played honourably with me you would have had ample, and the estate would have come to you some day, cleared of inc.u.mbrances, if you had not killed yourself first.”

”I don't know what you're talking about,” cried Claud, angrily. ”Who's imposing on you? Who's playing dishonourably? You behaved like a brute to me, and I went off to get out of it all, only I didn't want to be hard on ma, and so I came back.”

”Oh, my darling boy! It was very, very good of you.”

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