Part 55 (1/2)
The boy asked his question so eagerly and anxiously that it was evident it was not a case of idle curiosity.
”You must be meaning the son; I'm talking about the father. Wait till we get home, my boy, and you shall hear.”
It required all Percy's patience to wait. The very mention of his friend's name had excited him. It never occurred to him there were hundreds of Jeffreys in the world, and that his uncle and he might be interested in quite different persons. For him there was but one Jeffreys in the universe, and he jumped at any straw of hope of finding him.
The reader knows all Colonel Atherton was able to tell Percy and Raby-- for Raby was not an uninterested listener--of the story of Mr Halgrove's partner. Percy in turn told what he knew of his Jeffreys; and putting the two stories together, it seemed pretty clear it was a history of parent and son.
Early next morning the colonel was at Clarges Street, seated in the study with his two old college friends.
”Well,” said he, ”here's a case of we three meeting again with a vengeance. And what have you been up to, Halgrove, these twenty years?
No good, I'll be bound.”
”I have at least managed to keep clear of matrimony,” said Mr Halgrove, ”which is more than either of you virtuous family men can say.”
”Ah, well,” said the colonel, with a sigh, ”that's not all misfortune-- witness my sweet daughter and Rimbolt's fine boy. What have you got to show against that?”
”Nothing, I confess.”
”By the way, though, haven't you? The last I heard of you was in the papers; a record of a generous act on your part. You had adopted the son of an unfortunate partner of yours who had died. Is he still with you?”
”No,” said Mr Halgrove; ”that turned out an unfortunate speculation in every way.”
”Did the boy bolt?”
”Not exactly. I sent him to a first-rate school, where he distinguished himself in a way of his own by an act of homicide.”
”What?” exclaimed the colonel; and Mr Rimbolt suddenly became attentive.
”Yes. He either quite or very nearly did for a young schoolfellow in a fit of the tantrums, and found it convenient to quit the place rather abruptly.”
”What was the name of the school?” asked Mr Rimbolt quietly.
”Bolsover, in --s.h.i.+re.”
”Singular!” exclaimed the colonel. ”I had a chum in India who had a boy at that very school.”
Here the speaker became aware of a sharp kick under the table and a significant look from Mr Rimbolt. The old soldier was used to obey the word of command at a moment's notice and pulled up now.
”I should think a thing like that would be very bad for the school,”
said Mr Rimbolt quietly, and in an off-hand way.
”Fatal,” said Mr Halgrove. ”I believe Bolsover went to the dogs after it.”
”And so you had--you had young--what was his name?”
”Jeffreys.”
”Young Jeffreys on your hands?”
”Scarcely. We parted company. As I told him, I never was particular, but a man must draw the line somewhere, and I drew it at manslaughter.”