“Dear Rep.,—The post has just arrived, with intelligence
that Harry is coming home,—may be here within a week or
so,—so that we must not go on with our present plans for
the borough, as H., of course, will stand. Come back,
therefore, at once, and let as talk over the matter
together.
“Yours, in haste,
“G. M.”
“You know what this contains, perhaps?” said Repton, in a whisper to Scanlan. He nodded an assent, and the old lawyer re-read the note. “I don't see my way here quite clearly,” added he, in the same subdued voice, to Scanlan.
“I'll stroll on and stretch my legs a bit,” said Jack, springing out of the pony phaeton, and seeing that the others had some private matter of discussion; and Scanlan now drew nigh, while Repton informed him what the note contained.
“It's a little too late for this now,” said Scanlan, gravely.
“How do you mean too late?” asked Repton.
“Why, that Massingbred stands well with the people in the borough. They think that he 'll be more their man than Martin's, and, indeed, they 're so confident of it, I half suspect he has told them so.”
“But there has been no canvass as yet,—his address isn't even printed.”
“There has been a correspondence, however,” said Scanlan, with a knowing wink. “Take my word for it, Mr. Repton, he 's a deep fellow.”
“Are you quite sure of this?—can you pledge yourself to its truth?”
“I only know that Father Rafferty said the night before last he was satisfied with him, and the one difficulty was about old Nelligan, who somehow is greatly incensed against Massingbred.”