“And you don’t know where he is now?”
“No. I never saw him after that night—Beresford did the business with him in London. Whittaker went away with him. Now for what I suppose you really want to know. You are my heir, and have been so, ever since that occurrence.”
“Father,” said Edgar again, “you must know that I am very unlikely to outlive you.”
“In that ease the estates will pass to your cousin James. I object to the idea of marrying Geraldine for the sake of a master for Ashcroft, and she is amply provided for.”
“Father,” said Edgar, “I don’t see that Alwyn has done anything to forfeit his heirship. As for his dissipations—I was quite ready to follow his example had I had the chance. A practical joke, however improper, is not cause sufficient. Will you take no steps to find him?”
“No,” said Mr Cunningham, “it is in his power to find me if he chooses.”
“It is right to tell you that, should I ever have the power, I should try to find him.”
“That would be as you please,” said Mr Cunningham, “but the estate is secured to your cousin. He doesn’t know it, though, and I don’t wish him to find it out.”
It was an odd, hard scene. Edgar’s manner was rather polite than respectful; his father showed no feeling whatever.
“I think,” said Edgar with one last effort, “that the matter has been made to appear more disgraceful than it is.”