"There's nothing much for 'em to take but the desks," returned old Anthony.
"Mrs. Dare wished me to come and talk matters over with you, to see whether anything could be done. She does not understand them, she said."
"What can be done, when things come to such a pass as this?" returned Anthony Dare, lifting his head sharply. "That's just like women—'seeing what's to be done!' I am beset on all sides. If the bank sent me a present of three or four thousand pounds, we might go on again. But it won't, you know. The things must go, and we must go. I suppose they'll not put me in prison; they'd get nothing by doing it."
He leaned forward and rested his chin on his stick, which was stretched out before him as usual. Presently he resumed, his eyes and words alike wandering:
"He said the money would not bring us good if we kept it. And it has not: it has brought a curse. I have told Julia so twenty times since Anthony went. Only the half of it was ours, you know, and we took the whole."
"What money?" asked Mr. Ashley, wondering what he was saying.
"Old Cooper's. We were at Birmingham when he died, I and Julia. The will left it all to her, but he charged us——"
Mr. Dare suddenly stopped. His eye had fallen on William. In these fits of wandering he partially lost his memory, and mixed things and people together in the most inextricable confusion.
"Are you Edgar Halliburton?" he went on.
"I am his son. Do you not remember me, Mr. Dare?"