Richard Linnell drew his breath with a slight hiss, but there was no avoiding the encounter, and as they drew near and raised their hats, there was a smile and most courteous bow for Colonel Mellersh, and the most distant of salutes for his companion.
“Old impostor,” said the Colonel, as they took the first turning and made for the country beyond the Downs.
“No,” said Richard Linnell gravely, “I don’t think him that. He is a gentleman at heart, fond of his children, and his ways are forced upon him by his position.”
“Fond of his children! Bah! As objects of merchandise. I tell you, Dick, I hate the man.”
“And when you hate a man you are unjust.”
“Not here. My dear Dick, you look at old Denville through rose-coloured glasses. Pah! I detest him, and, by Jove, sir, I don’t acquit him of some knowledge of that terrible affair at his house.”
“Colonel Mellersh!”
“My dear boy!”
They walked on in silence for a few minutes, and then, clear now of the town, Colonel Mellersh exclaimed:
“My dear Dick, you have always known my feelings regarding this unfortunate attachment.”