"What I know about it is this," replied Aubrey calmly, as he drew the note from his pocket, and flicked at it with a finger. "The guv'nor's taken it into his head to go—likewise that sweet sister of mine; and by all accounts our precious friend Byfield has gone also. No thought, mind you, of what's goin' to become of me, or of what I'm to do, left with this blessed house on my hands. Also to say nothin' of hints thrown out as to the necessity for me to earn my own livin'. That's what I know about it."
"I knew it," said Jordan Tant. "I was certain in my own mind that when it came to the point Byfield would shake himself free of you all, and go away. But I certainly did not anticipate that he would take the girl or her father."
"So you know the truth—do you?" demanded Simon Quarle, elbowing his way up to Mr. Tant. "You know the whole disgraceful truth—do you? I suppose you're one of his precious friends—eh?"
"Mr. Byfield is certainly a friend of mine," said Jordan Tant. "And I am the more sorry that he seems to have been sponged upon by all sorts of people with whom he should have had nothing to do."
"Sponged upon!" Mrs. Stocker literally took him by one shoulder, and turned him round so that he faced her. "My brother, let me tell you, has a private fortune of his own——"
"Private fiddlesticks, ma'am," broke in Simon Quarle. "He never had a penny to bless himself with, until he happened to light upon a soft-hearted man who took an interest in his daughter Bessie. That soft-hearted man was Gilbert Byfield; and all this house, and the servants, and the rioting and the feasting, and the champagne and what not—it's all been paid for by him. So much for your brother's fortune, ma'am!"
"I'll not believe it," exclaimed Mrs. Stocker, seeing the matter clearly enough now, but clinging to straws. "It's ridiculous!"
"It happens to be true," said Mr. Tant. "Byfield's friends have long bewailed this absurd infatuation of his, and have done their best to get him away from it; now he has finally defied all their efforts, and has actually run away with this young person."
"Regardin' the fact that she's my sister—would you wish to offer any explanation of that remark to me?" asked Aubrey, with dignity.
"Don't forget, my friend, that she has gone with her father," Simon Quarle reminded Tant in his harsh voice. "There's not a word can be breathed against the girl; understand that."