“When did he go?”
“Hour ago, sir. Telegraph come from Saint Kitt’s, sir; and he wrote that letter, sir, for you, while they got the dogcart ready to take him to the station.”
“That will do.”
He tore open the letter, which enclosed the telegram from a friend in chambers—
“Come directly. A good brief for you. Don’t lose the chance.”
The hastily-scrawled letter was as follows:—
“Dear Dick,—Don’t blame me for going. I must take work when it comes; and honestly, for reasons I can’t explain, I am glad to go.—Yours, F.P.”
“Must be genuine,” thought Richard. “Well, it has happened at a good time. I’m glad he has gone.”
Then a thought struck him.
He and Humphrey might divide the estate. But, no, he drove it away; he would be honest.