Hubert was quite unmoved by his cousin's emotion; indeed he seemed to take a melancholy pleasure in watching him. "When are you going to see him?" he asked.
"To-morrow morning," Turner said. "And, by the Lord, if he refuses I'll give him a piece of my mind."
Hubert smiled sadly. "Not you," he commented.
Arthur had not attempted to interrupt this conversation. Once more he had a sense of some curious mystery behind the commonplace situation. Both Hubert's dismal resignation and young Turner's too violent asseverations hinted at some quality in their grandfather's treatment of them that Arthur found it difficult to associate with the old man himself. It was true, certainly, that he had overlooked or forgotten to offer his medical attendant a salary, but he had none of the signs of the miser. Arthur knew that he gave freely to charities, and spent money without stint on the upkeep of Hartling. And did he not keep his whole family in idleness from one year's end to another?
"Why are you so sure that your grandfather will refuse?" Arthur now broke in, looking at Hubert.
Hubert exchanged a glance with young Turner, and it was the latter who answered.
"He's not sure," he protested. "Anyway, I'm not."
Hubert pursed his mouth and stared thoughtfully at the billiard table.
"Do you think he'll have a down on you for gambling?" Arthur asked.
Turner laughed brusquely. "Well, hardly," he said. "Been a pretty good gambler himself in his day. That was the way he made most of his money. Jolly shady some of his business was too, I've heard. He happened to bring it off, so it was all right. If he hadn't he'd have found himself on the wrong side of the big door."