"Ah, well, you were always prejudiced," he answered. "I— But it serves no purpose to reopen old wounds. I am of one mind with you there. Yet tell me this: Have you poisoned the boy's mind against me?"
My father dropped back into his seat with a sour grimace.
"Poisoned his mind?" he repeated. "I told him no more recently than yesterday who and what you were. You brought that upon yourself by pursuing your rascally trade in these seas. Until then the boy did not so much as know that you existed—as his relative."
My great-uncle—I was gradually beginning to think of him as such—pondered this news, head on one side, peering from my father to me and back again.
"I see, I see," he murmured. "Humph! I fear his mind hath been corrupted. But I am not surprized. No, no! I prepared for this."
"For what?" demanded my father.
Murray leaned abruptly across the table.
"I will be frank with you, Ormerod—and with Nephew Robert here. I am somewhat in difficulties——"
"If 'tis money—" began my father.
My great-uncle's gesture was sufficient check to this.