"Do I wish to see you?" echoed Towton jumping to his feet and wringing Vernon's hand heartily. "Why, my dear fellow, I have been sitting here on pins and needles for the last few days. What the deuce took you out of town so unexpectedly? I beg your pardon, I should not enquire into your private business. Sit down and have a cigar. The whisky and potash is on the table at your elbow."
"Oh, my business is not private," replied Vernon, taking a comfortable chair and a very excellent cigar. "All the world will know in a week or so."
"Know what?"
"That my uncle, Sir Edward Vernon, is dead, and that I am a titled, well-to-do man, worth knowing."
"I never knew you had an uncle," said Towton staring.
"It's not unusual for men to have uncles," said Vernon drily. "I didn't buck about the relationship, as we were not the best of friends. A family quarrel between my father and Sir Edward, you understand? However, when I returned from a visit to Miss Dimsdale I found a letter from my uncle asking me to come to Slimthorp, near Worcester, as he was very ill. I packed up and went by the evening train, and there I have been for the last three days."
"Humph! I suppose I ought to congratulate you?"
"Well, you may. Sir Edward can't last more than a week, and he leaves me heir to his title, his mansion, and a few thousands a year. He's not a bad old fellow, either," went on Vernon meditatively, "and I am sorry he is dying. I don't deny, however, that his death will make a great change in my fortunes for the better, as is obvious."
"It will enable you to marry Miss Corsoon," said the Colonel nodding.
"Yes." Vernon thought of his interview with Lady Corsoon and replied briefly. "Uncle Edward is eighty years of age," he added apologetically, "so he can't be said to have been cut off when he was green."