r, sternly.

"Not very much, _this_, sir. It's under three hundred."

Which was as much as to say there was more behind it. Dr. Ashton mentally
washed his hands of Percival Elster as a future son-in-law.

The first intimation that ill-starred gentleman received of the untoward
turn affairs were taking was from the Rector himself.

Mr. Percival Elster had been chuckling over that opportune sore throat,
as a means of keeping his brother indoors; and it never occurred to him
that Lord Hartledon would venture out at all on the Monday. Being a man
with his wits about him, it had not failed to occur to his mind that
there was a possibility of Lord Hartledon's being arrested in place of
himself; but so long as Hartledon kept indoors the danger was averted.
Had Percival Elster seen his brother go out he might have plucked up
courage to tell him the state of affairs.

But he did not see him. Lounging idly--what else had he, a poor prisoner,
to do?--in the sunny society of Maude Kirton and other attractive girls,
Mr. Elster was unconscious of the movements of the household in general.
He was in his own room dressing for dinner when the truth burst upon him.

Dr. Ashton was a straightforward; practical man--it has been already
stated--who went direct to the point at once in any matters of
difficulty. He arrived at Hartledon a few minutes before the dinner-hour,
found Mr. Elster was yet in his dressing-room, and went there to him.

The news, the cool, scornful anger of the Rector, the keen question--"Was
he mad?" burst upon the unhappy Val like a clap of thunder. He was
standing in his shirt-sleeves, ready to go down, all but his coat and
waistcoat, his hair-brushes in the uplifted hands. Hands and brushes had
been arrested midway in the shock. The calm clerical man; all the more
terrible then because of his calmness; standing there with his cold
stinging words, and his unhappy culprit facing him, conscious of his
heinous sins--the worst sin of all: that of being found out.

"Others have done so much before me, sir, and have not made the less good
men," spoke Val, in his desperation.

Dr. Ashton could not help admiring the man, as he stood there in his
physical beauty. In spite of his inward anger, his condemnation, his
disappointment--and they were all very great--the good looks of Percival
Elster struck him forcibly with a sort of annoyance: why should these men
be so outwardly fair, so inwardly frail? Those good looks ha