was gone,--the miscreant who had disturbed
his quiet. Then he began to think what was the accusation with which
Vavasor had charged him. He had been told that he had advanced
money on behalf of Alice, in order that he might obtain some power
over Alice's fortune, and thus revenge himself upon Alice for her
treatment of him. Nothing could be more damnably false than this
accusation. Of that he was well aware. But were not the circumstances
of a nature to make it appear that the accusation was true? Security
for the money advanced by him, of course, he had none;--of course
he had desired none;--of course the money had been given out of his
own pocket with the sole object of saving Alice, if that might be
possible; but of all those who might hear of this affair, how many
would know or even guess the truth?

While he was in this wretched state of mind, washing his mouth, and
disturbing his spirit, Mr Jones, his landlord, came up to him. Mr
Jones had known him for some years, and entertained a most profound
respect for his character. A rather sporting man than otherwise was
Mr Jones. His father had been a tradesman at Cambridge, and in this
way Jones had become known to Mr Grey. But though given to sport,
by which he meant modern prize-fighting and the Epsom course on the
Derby day, Mr Jones was a man who dearly loved respectable customers
and respectable lodgers. Mr Grey, with his property at Nethercoats,
and his august manners, and his reputation at Cambridge, was a most
respectable lodger, and Mr Jones could hardly understand how any one
could presume to raise his hand against such a man.

"Dear, dear, sir--this is a terrible affair!" he said, as he made his
way into the room.

"It was very disagreeable, certainly," said Grey.

"Was the gentleman known to you?" asked the tailor.

"Yes; I know who he is."

"Any quarrel, sir?"

"Well, yes. I should not have pushed him down stairs had he not
quarrelled with me."

"We can have the police after him if you wish it, sir?"

"I don't wish it at all."

"Or we might manage to polish him off in any other way, you know."

It was some time before Mr Grey could get rid of the tailor, but he
did so at last without having told any part of the story to that
warlike, worthy, and very anxious individual.

CHAPTER LIII

The Last Will of the Old Squire

In the meantime Kate Vavasor was living down in Westmoreland, with no
other society than that of her grandfather, a