have the accomplices quarrelled--I mean the son and father--that the
father should be exposed and denounced by the son?"

"I conclude so. I never saw them again. But you believe the father
really was, then, a felon, a convict--no excuse for him--no extenuating
circumstances? There was something in that man, Mr. Darrell, that made
one love him--positively love him; and when I had to tell him that I had
given up the child he trusted to my charge, and saw his grief, I felt a
criminal myself."

Darrell said nothing, but the character of his face was entirely altered
--stern, hard, relentless--the face of an inexorable judge. Hartopp,
lifting his eyes suddenly to that countenance, recoiled in awe.

"You think I was a criminal!" he said, piteously.

"I think we are both talking too much, Mr. Hartopp, of a gang of
miserable swindlers, and I advise you to dismiss the whole remembrance of
intercourse with any of them from your honest breast, and never to repeat
to other ears the tale you have poured into mine. Men of honour should
crush down the very thought that approaches them to knaves."

Thus saying, Darrell moved off with abrupt rudeness, and passing quickly
back through the crowd, scarcely noticed Mrs. Haughton by a retreating
nod, nor heeded Lionel at all, but hurried down the stairs. He was
impatiently searching for his cloak in the back parlour, when a voice
behind said: "Let me assist you, sir--do:" and turning round with
petulant quickness, he beheld again Mr. Adolphus Poole. It requires an
habitual intercourse with equals to give perfect and invariable control
of temper to a man of irritable nerves and frank character; and though,