“But of course I can’t expect her to take to a toothless, gouty old imbecile like me, poor child.”
“What do you know, my lord?”
“Oh, only a garbled set-out. I’m not quite sure how things are; and sometimes it seems that it’s Sir Harry Payne, sometimes it seems to be Rockley. Now, look here, Barclay. Will you try with me to stop it? I couldn’t bear it to come off. If the girl were going to the church with some true-hearted fellow, I should feel a twinge, but I’d settle a thousand or two on her, and say, ‘God bless her!’ like a man; but I can’t see her go to the bad without making an effort to save her. Barclay, you old scoundrel, you’re laughing at me, and calling me an idiot for taking you into my confidence like this.”
“You don’t think so, my lord,” said Barclay sternly; “and you give me credit for being an honest man, or you would not talk to me in this way.”
“Honest?”
“Yes,” said Barclay sharply. “Am I dishonest for making all the profit I can out of a set of profligates and fools?”
“Barclay,” said his lordship, “if that old cat were not here I’d shake hands with you; as it is, that kick under the table means it. Yes, I do trust you, and your good-hearted wife, too. Will you help me?”
“In every way I can,” said Barclay. “Between ourselves, Lord Carboro’, I’ve had a hint or two of an elopement to-night, and I’m going to see what it means.”
“You have had a hint?” said Lord Carboro’ eagerly.
“Yes, my lord. I must have twenty-five per cent. The risk is too great,” added Barclay aloud. “Drelincourt’s looking,” he said in a low tone. “I’m not sure who it is yet, or what it means; but there’s something on the way, and I’ll help your lordship all I can.”