Aubrey Meggison, left with Simon Quarle, looked at the latter dubiously; and then, in his despair, decided to seek that gentleman's advice. Simon was pacing about the room, with his hands clasped behind him, and muttering to himself.
"Speakin' of myself for a moment—what would you advise?" said Aubrey.
"Advise? What do you mean?" snarled Mr. Quarle, turning upon him.
"As a man—and as a brother," said Aubrey a little feebly. "To say nothing of a being that's been abandoned, and left to what I might call his fate. What do you think I ought to do?"
"Do? See if you can find some honest work somewhere—preferably road-mending, or something of that sort," snapped the other; and turned and walked out of the room.
"Gentlemanly chap, that," said Aubrey, addressing the furniture. "Road-mendin' indeed! I think I know a trick worth two of that. If this man Byfield is so fly with his money, why shouldn't I have a turn at him? An outraged brother ought to count for something. Is it to be left to the old man to deal with him? Not much! Newhaven, wasn't it? I'll have a look at this blessed Blue Bird on my own account!" He buttoned his coat with some show of resolution, and went hurriedly out of the room.
It has to be recorded that Mr. Simon Quarle, on his knees in his room, hurriedly packing his small bag, had arrived also at a decision. He was cramming things in ruthlessly, muttering savagely to himself as he did so.
"Oh!—my Bessie—child in the ways of the world—and child most of all where your heart is touched—is there anyone that can look after you? You'll be lost, body and soul, among the lot of 'em, if your old friend Simon doesn't stir himself. Devils!—harpies!—vultures!—they shall reckon with me when it comes to the pinch. I'm for Newhaven!"
Meanwhile, Mr. Jordan Tant had walked straight back to the cottage, in search of Mrs. Ewart-Crane and Enid. There, with many gestures, and with the air of a man whose feelings of right and wrong had been outraged, he told his story. "If Gilbert had only listened to me," he ended pathetically—"but he never would learn to draw the line."
"One thing I am resolved upon," said Mrs. Ewart-Crane grimly—"and that is that poor Gilbert shall not be absolutely lost. He must be rescued; he must be snatched away from these people, against his will if necessary. As I have already hinted, my mind is pretty well made up; we will go at once to Newhaven, and see what can be done."