CHAPTER XLIX. THE PIGEON-COTE.
"What is the meaning of this?" asked Fox. "Are these wedding-guests invited to help to make merry?"
Old Cleverdon looked at Fox, then at the door, in which, behind his son-in-law, entered the stranger from Exeter.
"This is Master French," said the Squire.
"I do not care what be his name, but what his business?" said Fox, rudely. "Come in, Master French, and let us have this load winnowed. You had better go." The last words were addressed to Bessie.
"This is what I have come about," said the stranger, entering: "The bill for foreclosure has been filed; and, unless the mortgage-money be paid within fourteen days, then, Master Cleverdon, you stand absolutely debarred and precluded from all rights, title, suit, and equity of redemption in or to the premises, which thenceforth become the absolute property of the mortgagee."
"And this," exclaimed Fox—"this is the meaning of my being constituted heir to Hall! Come, Squire, you must take me into council; for, please to know that now you have hooked me into your family and house, I must eat off the same trencher as you. You don't suppose I married Bess for her beauty, do you? What have you there?"
The old man had gone to his desk, and unlocked it.
Fox pressed after him, put his hand on his shoulder, and thrust him aside. "Let me see your accounts, your mortgages, and whatever you have beside stuffed into that cabinet of mysteries."
"Is there no means of raising the requisite money?" asked French. "Times are bad; but—still money is to be had somewhere. You must have friends and relatives who can help."