"Well—I've been to Fiddler's Green," was Quarle's first utterance, as he seated himself, and squared his shoulders, and frowned at his host.
"You at Fiddler's Green? What for?"
"To see for myself what was going on; to understand for myself how the Meggisons stand riches," said Quarle, evidently in a great state of grim triumph. "I've seen them—talked with them—been snubbed by one at least of them. Would you like to hear about it?"
"How's the girl?—how's Bessie?" asked Gilbert.
"Oh—I grant you'd be pleased with her," retorted Quarle grudgingly. "As pretty as a picture—and with a smile in her eyes for the first time. But the other two! The dogs—the scorpions—the blood-suckers!"
"Steady! I'm sure there's nothing to get excited about. What have they done to you?"
"I stand for nothing—and I don't complain," replied Quarle. "But when I see that snivelling lounger Daniel Meggison cutting a dash, sir, in a hired carriage—when I see that ardent billiard-room enthusiast Aubrey Meggison cutting an absurd figure about the country lanes on a hired hack, and slapping his leg with a riding whip in the bar of the local inn—when I think of the bills that are running up, and the price there'll be to pay—plus the necessary explanations——"
"That will do, thank you, Quarle," said Gilbert, with a new gravity upon him. "I'll go down there at once; I've delayed too long. I give you my word I didn't think it was coming to this—I thought at least they'd have the decency to be quiet."
"Decency, sir, is a word they don't understand. Only I tell you I'm bitterly sorry for the girl. If I could in any way drown father and son, or smother them, or get rid of them somehow, I'd cheerfully do it, if it would keep her in ignorance of the truth. One word, Byfield: you've got to be mighty careful, because either Daniel Meggison or the boy is mean enough, if the game appears to be up, to tell the truth—and not to tell it with too nice a tongue. Be careful."
Gilbert Byfield had crossed the room and had taken up a railway guide. There was a look of decision about him that impressed Simon Quarle. While the young man was busily fluttering the pages the door was opened, and Mr. Jordan Tant sauntered in, as immaculate-looking as ever. He glanced at the sturdy figure of Simon Quarle, and then looked across at Byfield; coughed to attract the latter's attention.