"What? That she can drive you away from the neighbourhood?" asked the old lawyer. "I can say 'No' to that, but what else she can do, I must have time to consider. I am very glad I met you, and that you have been so frank with me over the matter. Now, is there anything else to tell me? If not, I will be getting home, for my housekeeper doesn't like me to keep supper waiting."
"No, thank you!" said Arthur.
And yet if it had not been for the mention of the housekeeper and supper, he would probably have told his friend of the missing letter, and how it had probably added to Lady Mary's vexation, but as it was he did not care to hinder him any longer. Mr. Andrews was a bachelor, who was practically ruled by his housekeeper. He had heard his father laugh many times about this, and how the lawyer dared not keep a meal waiting beyond the time arranged for it to be ready. So he bade his friend good-night and walked on, lest Mr. Andrews should guess he had come out purposely to meet him if he turned back at once.
"I wish I knew what it was, and how it is she can have got this power to annoy us! It's through those horrible debts, I suppose. I wish I had told Andrews I would give up Brading's if he thought it would help the Mater and Molly. I should hate going away from them, of course, but still I'd do it rather than have 'the dragon' worrying them. I wonder what it can be!" he went on.
Lost in this puzzle, he went much farther than he intended out of the town, and was just turning to walk back again when the sound of voices attracted his attention. A few yards farther back, he saw two rough-looking men trying to drag someone up from the ground. He was a much smaller man than either of the roughs, and they did not seem to be handling him very gently.
"What is the matter with him?" said Arthur, as the young fellow fell back on the path.
"That ain't no business of yourn, is it?" demanded one of the fellows. "He's drunk, if you must know, and we're taking of him home."
While the fellow had been speaking, Arthur had stooped to look more closely at the prostrate figure. "Adrian!" he exclaimed the next minute.
"There, get out of this. He ain't none of your belongings," said one of the roughs. "The gent has put hisself in our care, and we ain't going to have him interfered with."
Arthur looked at the follow and his companion, and then at the quiet road, and finally came to the conclusion that discretion was the better form of valour in the present instance. "He's my cousin, and I will go with you to his home," he said quietly.