was something noticeable in the interest which he displayed.

On the fourth day after his arrival in London, just at that time of the
year when everybody was supposed to be leaving town, and when faded
members of Parliament, who allowed themselves to be retained for the
purpose of final divisions, were cursing their fate amid the heats of
August, Harry accepted an invitation to dine with Augustus Scarborough
at his chambers in the Temple. He understood when he accepted the
invitation that no one else was to be there, and must have been aware
that it was the intention of the heir of Tretton to talk to him
respecting his brother. He had not seen Scarborough since he had been up
in town, and had not been desirous of seeing him; but when the
invitation came he had told himself that it would be better that he
should accept it, and that he would allow his host to say what he
pleased to say on the subject, he himself remaining reticent. But poor
Harry little knew the difficulty of reticency when the heart is full. He
had intended to be very reticent when he came up to London, and had, in
fact, done nothing but talk about the missing man, as to whom he had
declared that he would altogether hold his tongue.

The reader must here be pleased to remember that Augustus Scarborough
was perfectly well aware of what had befallen his brother, and must,
therefore, have known among other things of the quarrel which had taken
place in the streets. He knew, therefore, that Harry was concealing his
knowledge, and could make a fair guess at the state of the poor fellow's
mind.

"He will guess," he had said to himself, "that he did not leave him for
dead on the ground, or the body would be there to tell the tale. But he
must be ashamed of the part which he took in the street-fight, and be