“Jeffreys!” exclaimed Percy, with a suddenness that startled the gallant officer; “did you say Jeffreys?”
“Yes, what about him? It was long before your time—a dozen or fourteen years ago.”
“Why, he couldn’t have been more than eight then; what happened to him, uncle, I say?”
The boy asked his question so eagerly and anxiously that it was evident it was not a case of idle curiosity.
“You must be meaning the son; I’m talking about the father. Wait till we get home, my boy, and you shall hear.”
It required all Percy’s patience to wait. The very mention of his friend’s name had excited him. It never occurred to him there were hundreds of Jeffreys in the world, and that his uncle and he might be interested in quite different persons. For him there was but one Jeffreys in the universe, and he jumped at any straw of hope of finding him.
The reader knows all Colonel Atherton was able to tell Percy and Raby—for Raby was not an uninterested listener—of the story of Mr Halgrove’s partner. Percy in turn told what he knew of his Jeffreys; and putting the two stories together, it seemed pretty clear it was a history of parent and son.
Early next morning the colonel was at Clarges Street, seated in the study with his two old college friends.
“Well,” said he, “here’s a case of we three meeting again with a vengeance. And what have you been up to, Halgrove, these twenty years? No good, I’ll be bound.”
“I have at least managed to keep clear of matrimony,” said Mr Halgrove, “which is more than either of you virtuous family men can say.”