Blair flushed.
"What can he do to me—or her?" he asked.
"He can't order you off to instant execution, as he would no doubt like to do," said Ambrose, "but he can injure your prospects very materially, my dear Blair. Oh, I know about the title and estate," he went on, as Blair opened his lips. "Those must come to you—lucky beggar that you are! But there is something more and beyond those. The earl has a large personal property, a vast sum of money, that he can leave as he pleases——"
"How do you know that?" demanded Blair, with a faint surprise.
The slightest flush rose to Austin Ambrose's face.
"Well," he replied, "I only imagine so. Like most people, I know that the earl has not lived up to a half, or a quarter of his income for years. And what an income it is! He must have saved an enormous sum of money——"
"Let him do what he likes with it!" exclaimed Blair, bluntly. "I have had more than my share already. Let him leave it to anybody he likes. It is his own."
"Whom is he to leave it to?" said Ambrose. "The Home for Lost Dogs?"
"Or Sick Cats. I don't care!" said Blair, impetuously.
"That is all very well, and very noble, and all that, my dear Blair," said the cool, quiet voice. "But—pardon me—you haven't only yourself to think about, you know. There is your wife—the fair Margaret——"