“Where is Mr. Arden, your uncle?”
“In Scotland.”
“How soon does he return?”
“He will not be in town till spring, I believe; he is going abroad, but he passes through Southampton on his way to the Continent, on Friday next.”
“And makes some little stay there?”
“I think he stays one night.”
“Then I'll go down and see him, and you shall come with me.”
Sir Richard stared.
“Yes, and you had better not put your foot in it; and clear your head of all notion of running away,” he said, fixing his fiery eyes on Sir Richard, with a sudden ferocity that made him fancy that his secret thoughts had revealed themselves under that piercing gaze. “It is not easy to levant now-a-days, unless one has swifter wings than the wires can carry news with; and if you are false, what more do I need than to blast you? and with your name in the Hue-and-Cry, and a thousand pounds reward for the apprehension of Sir Richard Arden, Baronet, for forgery, I don't see much more that infamy can do for you.”
A dark flush crossed Arden's face as he rose.