Part 29 (2/2)
”Well, Frank,” said the elder brother, ”where's your father?”
The ”your” was a subtle indication of the depth to which Mr.
Walkingshaw had fallen in the estimation of the right-minded.
”Out of town,” said Frank briefly.
”Where's he gone?”
Frank shook his head.
”You can ask at the office,” he suggested.
”Do you mean to say you don't know?”
”I mean to say it's none of my business.”
Andrew had begun the conversation in a decidedly hectoring manner. He now began to alter his key a little.
”Look here, Frank, things are pretty serious. We've got to stop this tomfoolery.”
The other interrupted him.
”What tomfoolery?”
”Making an exhibition of himself all over London, and wasting his money at a place like this. You know perfectly well what I mean.”
”I only know that he's in the best form I've ever seen him in my life.
He's just a devilish kind and sporting guv'nor, that's what he is.”
”If you mean going about the most disreputable places in London in a half-intoxicated condition--”
”That's a lie, anyhow,” said Frank calmly, yet with a glint in his eye.
His brother recoiled a pace, but his manner grew none the less uncompromising.
”I suppose you'll say he's moving in fine high-cla.s.s society, do you?”
”It's a lot better than anything he ever found in his office.”
”Thank you,” replied the junior partner; ”and now perhaps you'll tell me when he's expected back?”
”Day or two,” said Frank shortly.
Andrew pondered for a moment.
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