“Good Lord! Am I not your aunt’s husband?”
“I have always heard so, and Burke vouches for it.”
Southwold emits a strangled sound that is an oath, a snarl, and a groan in one.
“You ought to be placed in a padded room, sir?” he says at length, when he recovers his voice.
“Oh, I am never violent!” says Bertram with a slight smile, as he glances at the pieces of the broken whip.
“Where do the money and estates go?” roars Southwold.
“To a very respectable destination—Magdalen College.”
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
“Oh Lord!”