"He came back from Monte Carlo broke to the world and fetched up at Fairbridge. I happened to go away that night and just missed him, but he saw Sir Geoffrey and asked for some money. Sir Geoffrey said he wouldn't give him another sixpence, and asked what he had done with two hundred and fifty pounds he'd had six weeks before. I'm blest if Melville didn't produce my letter and say he'd lent me a hundred of it."
"Oh!" said Mr. Tracy; "and what happened then?"
"The dear old chap begged his pardon and paid him the hundred pounds for me. If ever there was a rank swindle that was one. When I came home next day he began to pitch into me for asking Melville instead of him for help, and, of course, the whole thing came out at once."
"Yes," said Mr. Tracy. "What did Sir Geoffrey say?"
"He said rather a lot," Ralph answered grimly. "He was going to instruct you to take proceedings against Melville for getting money under false pretences, but I persuaded him to let me repay him the hundred pounds and take the matter up myself. He agreed—rather reluctantly—and that was the end of the matter, except that I had a bit of a rumpus with Melville, who owes me the money to this day."
Mr. Tracy was much more interested than he allowed Ralph to perceive; the story let in a flood of light upon much that he had not been able to understand.
"Then your brother is extravagant, I suppose?"
"Money runs through his fingers like water through a sieve," Ralph answered. "Just six weeks before that Sir Geoffrey wiped off all his debts, as he admitted to-day; he gave him two hundred and fifty pounds, and told him to go to the deuce; Melville blew the lot at Monte Carlo, came home, got that extra hundred out of Sir Geoffrey, and went away. And the very next day he turned up again at Fairbridge, had a long session with the old chap, and got round him so far that he stayed a week at the Manor House and began to tap him again, just as casually as ever. I couldn't understand it then, and I can't now. Sir Geoffrey never talked about him after we had that palaver about my supposed debt, but I am quite clear it was because of that swindle that Melville got himself disinherited. Sir Geoffrey didn't like his gambling, but he liked the other thing less—and I don't wonder."
"Why didn't you tell me something about this on the day of the funeral," Mr. Tracy asked, "when I read the will?"
"Oh, well," said Ralph, "I'm a slow-witted chap, you know, and you were in a hurry; and, besides, it's not a pretty story. I wouldn't have mentioned it now, only Melville brought it up so unnecessarily. You had better know the rights of it since you think what he said did me harm to-day."