"As far as I can learn, nothing has been heard about him as yet," said the son to the father.
"Those limbs weren't his that were picked out of the Thames near Blackfriars Bridge?"
"They belonged to a poor cripple who was murdered two months since."
"And that body that was found down among the Yorkshire Hills?"
"He was a peddler. There is nothing to induce a belief that Mountjoy has killed himself or been killed. In the former case his dead body would be found or his live body would be missing. For the second there is no imaginable cause for suspicion."
"Then where the devil is he?" said the anxious father.
"Ah, that's the difficulty. But I can imagine no position in which a man might be more tempted to hide himself. He is disgraced on every side, and could hardly show his face in London after the money he has lost. You would not have paid his gambling debts?"
"Certainly not," said the father. "There must be an end to all things."
"Nor could I. Within the last month past he has drawn from me every shilling that I have had at my immediate command."
"Why did you give 'em to him?"