“That boy isn’t as smart as you think he is. His going off on a wild-goose chase—”
“It was no wild-goose chase, doctor.”
“I think it was. But, of course, that is none of my business. All I ask is that you pay the money due.”
“I cannot do that just at present.”
“Then I will have to put the case in my lawyer’s hands—”
“At once?”
“At once.”
Mr. Bright felt a deep pang shoot through his heart. His pecuniary difficulties were to be dragged before the public at last.
“Well, if you must,” he began slowly. Then he stopped short and half rose from his chair. That figure hurrying so swiftly down the road towards the house seemed strangely familiar. Was it—could it be—“Oliver!” he cried out, “Oliver, my boy!”