“I’ll tell you directly. But look here, old fellow, aren’t you a bit greedy? You can’t have everything, you know. You’ve got all the old man’s money, and I knew that you were to have it, so wasn’t it natural that I should play for Janet?”
“Will you state your business, sir?”
“Sir? Oh, come, I say, isn’t it time to forget and forgive? I wanted Janet, and I won. You didn’t care much, or you wouldn’t have so jolly soon consoled yourself with another girl. I say, though, do they grow many wenches like that here?”
Clive’s eyes blazed, and he felt as if he could strike his brother down where he stood; for he fancied him going back to his young wife, and sneeringly telling her of what he had seen. The thought of this made Clive’s blood boil; and his looks were so ominous that Jessop glanced covertly toward the door where the Major had entered.
“Now, sir, if you please,” said Clive, in low and angry tones, “your business—what is it?”
“Why, you know, old fellow,” cried Jessop, “Janet and I have been talking it over, and she is upset and shocked that we two, with our father only just cold in his grave, should be at enmity. She agreed that I ought to come down and make it up with you, so that we could meet like brothers again.”
“Leave Janet’s name out of everything which you have to say to me,” said Clive, in a husky voice which betrayed how he was moved. “Man, have you no respect for your wife?”
“Respect! Of course I have. Come, I say, when a fellow acts like a brother and comes down on purpose to make it up—”
“You lie, sir,” said Clive, in a hoarse whisper, as he moved closer to his brother. “I have known you from a boy, Jessop, and I never found you suffer from pangs of fraternal affection. You have come down here for some purpose of your own—as a spy; but you will get no information from me, and under pain of dismissal no man will give you the information you seek.”
“Well, of all—” began Jessop in an injured tone; but he said no more.