"Of course I do," said the doctor; "and if he is not, what does it matter?"

"Nothing at all, I suppose," replied Mrs Hardon; "but really, Tom, it came upon me like a thunder-clap. Was that what poor Octavius sent for you about--to tell you that? I often thought there must be some reason for his long-continued obstinacy. What did he say to you about it?"

"Don't ask questions," said the doctor abruptly. "It is enough for you to know that it is so, and that the money comes at a time when we want it badly."

"Then we have no business to have been wanting it badly!" exclaimed Mrs Hardon; "and I shall make it my business to go to Keening's one of these days, and ask them the state of your affairs."

"Yes, you had better!" snarled the doctor, displaying a bright speck of the gold setting of his teeth.

"But such a saint as poor Lavinia always seemed!" said Mrs Hardon. "I should never have thought it of her; and if it was not that the poor thing is dead and gone, I should have called it quite disgraceful. But there, we can't afford to talk about such matters, I'm sure;" and she began to rock herself to and fro in her chair and to sob: "O, Tom! you drove that poor girl away,--you did. She would never have left if--"

"Hold your tongue!" cried the doctor fiercely.

"But you did, Tom; and I shall never forget her look that day I met her in the street--it went like a knife to my heart."

Mrs Hardon sat crying silently for some time, while the doctor savagely rustled his paper, but all the while reading not a word, for his lips moved, and he talked fiercely to himself.

"There!" cried Mrs Hardon at last, "I won't take on, for it seems of no use, and whether she or I live or die, don't seem to matter to you, Tom.

And now I want to know about Octavius's property. How much is it? and are you certain that there was no will?"

"I've told you there was none ten times over," said the doctor; "and now wait till the funeral's over, for I won't be bothered."

"But, Tom," said Mrs Hardon, "I want to know what is the extent--what it is really worth, and how much you owe."

"Never mind," said the doctor.

"But I have a right to know," cried Mrs Hardon.

"There! I don't know myself," said the doctor.

"Then perhaps your solicitors do," said Mrs Hardon; "and I shall, as I have often threatened, ask them."

"And much good it will do you," muttered the doctor; but, not liking to run the risk of any exposure of his present differences with his wife, he compromised. "Well," he said, "what is it that you wish to know?"

"Why, I told you," said Mrs Hardon; "what Octavius's property is worth, and whether you are quite sure that Septimus--"

"You are wanted, sir, if you please," said the maid, appearing at the door.

"Who is it?" said the doctor testily, for this was an hour when he objected to being disturbed.

"Wouldn't give any name, sir," replied the girl.

"Send him round to the surgery," said the doctor.

"Please, sir, he's in the front pa.s.sage, and he said he didn't want the sudgery."

"What sort of a man is it?" said the doctor.

"Look's like a poor man, sir," said the girl.

"How many times have you been told not to leave strangers in the pa.s.sage!" exclaimed Mrs Hardon angrily. "There'll be another coat gone directly; go and stay with him till your master comes."

The maid disappeared, giving the door so loud a shut that it sounded almost like a bang, when the doctor began to complain of fatigue, and being worn out, and Mrs Hardon, who wished to propitiate, offered to go.

"Do, please, my love," murmured the doctor, in the most gentle of tones--the professional.

Mrs Hardon slightly drew down the corners of her mouth in a contemptuous grimace as she left the room, but returned in a few minutes looking pale and scared; and then she carefully closed the door after her.

"It's quite taken my breath away!" exclaimed Mrs Hardon. "He frightened me: what made you tell me that Septimus was dead?"

"Well, isn't he?" said the doctor, shuffling hastily round in his chair.

"Dead?" exclaimed Mrs Hardon. "If he is, it's his ghost that has come down: that's all."

"Come down?" cried the doctor, turning of a dirty pallid hue.

"And he's walked all the way from London. And you never saw such a poor, deplorable-looking object in your life. He looks twenty years older, that he does."

"What does he want?" cried the doctor, panting in spite of his efforts to keep down his emotion.

"Says he's come down to see his father, and to attend to his affairs."

"Well, tell him to go to Keening's. I won't see him--I won't see him.

My nerves won't bear it; they have not recovered from the last shock yet, let alone that horrible night of the robbery."

"But you'd better see him," said Mrs Hardon, whose woman's heart was touched by her visitor's aspect.

"No, no; I can't--I can't bear it, and it's better that I should not;"

and as he spoke there was no dissimulation in the doctor's words or mien: he was undoubtedly very much moved.

"But you must see him; and besides, it will seem so strange if it's known in the town that you sent him away like that."

"Well--er--well--perhaps I had better," said the doctor; "where is he?

I'll go to him, or--no, let him come in here; but put away the wine first."

Mrs Hardon took no notice of the last remark, but went out, and returned directly with Septimus Hardon, footsore, dusty, and travel-stained.

"Good-evening, Mr Septimus," said the doctor, in the tone of voice he had heard so often from his patients, and as he spoke he slightly bent forward, but lay back again directly in his chair, without offering his visitor a seat. "Good-evening, Mr Septimus. I suppose we must say Hardon?"

"If you please, uncle," said Septimus, somewhat startled at his strange reception--a reception more chilling even than in his diffidence he had antic.i.p.ated.

"Sit down, Septimus, you look tired," said Mrs Hardon, pouring out a gla.s.s of wine for the visitor, who drank it with avidity, for he was faint and agitated, feeling somewhat like the Prodigal, though this was no prodigal's welcome.

"How do you find business, Mr Septimus?" said the doctor, perspiring freely, but now speaking calmly and slowly.

"Bad--bad," said Septimus. "I have lost all, and been put to great shifts, while my poor wife is a confirmed invalid."

"Dear me, dear me!" said the doctor blandly, "how sad! I might perhaps be able to give her advice. I suppose she could not call at my surgery any morning before ten?"