Sir Simon interposed with but one question. "What became of the money?"
"Private speculations," answered Robert Trace. "There you have the whole."
Yes; Sir Simon had the whole, and now, a little later in the day, Raymond Trace had it. Mr. Trace had made his escape from the house at the dusk hour, while Hopper was still detained with Sir Simon. Hopper showed every wish, as far as hints could show, to compromise the affair; meaning, that for a sum of money he would hush up Mr. Trace's part in it. Sir Simon dismissed him when Raymond entered: Mr. Hopper gave his address at the inn, and went away in confidence; leaving, as he supposed, Mr. Trace the elder and Sir Simon to talk over any offer they might feel inclined to make him.
Sir Simon disclosed the whole to Raymond: there was no possibility of its being kept from him. The boy—if it be not wrong to call him so—sat very still on a low chair, feeling as if the world, and everything in it bright, and honest, and desirable, were closing to him. If ever a spirit was flung suddenly down on its beam-end from an exalted pinnacle, it was that of Raymond Trace.
"You cannot go in for the Orville now, Raymond," said Sir Simon to him in a low tone, breaking a long and miserable pause.
Raymond glanced slightly up. "I have gone in for it. And gained it."
"My boy, you know what I mean. You must give up the gain."
The same thought had been beating itself into Trace's conscience. A bitter struggle was there. "You would have let Paradyne gain it and wear it, Uncle Simon, when you thought his father guilty!"
"True. But there is a difference in the cases."
As Raymond Trace saw for himself. He sat with his pale face bent, his cold fingers unconsciously pressing his hair off his brow. Sir Simon, sorry to his heart for the signs of pain, laid his own hand compassionately on the cold one.