“What the deuce,” he said, and then paused. “I won’t have it,” he went on, jumping up, “I won’t have it. I am not particularly fond of old de la Molle, perhaps because he is not particularly fond of me,” he added rather drolly, “but it would be an infernal shame to break up that family and sell the house over them. Why they would be ruined! And then there’s Ida—Miss de la Molle, I mean—what would become of her? And the old place too. After being in the family for all these centuries I suppose that it would be sold to some confounded counter-skipper or some retired thief of a lawyer. It must be prevented at any price—do you hear, Quest?”
The lawyer winced a little at his chief’s contemptuous allusion, and then remarked with a smile, “I had no idea that you were so sentimental, Mr. Cossey, or that you took such a lively interest in Miss de la Molle,” and he glanced up to observe the effect of his shot.
Edward Cossey coloured. “I did not mean that I took any particular interest in Miss de la Molle,” he said, “I was referring to the family.”
“Oh, quite so, though I’m sure I don’t know why you shouldn’t. Miss de la Molle is one of the most charming women that I ever met, I think the most charming except my own wife Belle,” and he again looked up suddenly at Edward Cossey who, for his part, coloured for the second time.
“It seems to me,” went on the lawyer, “that a man in your position has a most splendid opportunity of playing knight errant to the lovely damsel in distress. Here is the lady with her aged father about to be sold up and turned out of the estates which have belonged to her family for generations—why don’t you do the generous and graceful thing, like the hero in a novel, and take up the mortgages?”
Edward Cossey did not reject this suggestion with the contempt that might have been expected; on the contrary he appeared to be turning the matter over in his mind, for he drummed a little tune with his knuckles and stared out of the window.
“What is the sum?” he said presently.
“Five-and-twenty thousand, and he wants four more, say thirty thousand.”
“And where am I going to find thirty thousand pounds to take up a bundle of mortgages which will probably never pay a farthing of interest? Why, I have not got three thousand that I can come at. Besides,” he added, recollecting himself, “why should I interfere?”
“I do not think,” answered Mr. Quest, ignoring the latter part of the question, “that with your prospects you would find it difficult to get thirty thousand pounds. I know several who would consider it an honour to lend the money to a Cossey, if only for the sake of the introduction—that is, of course, provided the security was of a legal nature.”