"I'm too much in their secrets, by Jove!" said poor Wodehouse, in his
beard. "I _do_ know their secrets, though they talk so big. It's not
any consideration for me. It's to save themselves, by Jove, that's
what it is!" cried the indignant drudge, of whom his superior deigned
to take no notice. As for Mr Wentworth, he rose from his seat in a
state of suppressed indignation, which could not express itself merely
in words.

"May I ask what share I am expected to play in the drama?" he asked,
pushing his chair aside in his excitement. The elder brother turned
instinctively, and once more slid his feet to the ground. They looked
at each other for a moment; the Curate, pale with a passion which he
could not conceal, had something in his eyes which brought shame even
to Jack Wentworth's face.

"You can betray him if you like," he said, sulkily. "I have
no--particular interest in the matter; but in that case he had
better make the best of his time and get away. You hear?" said the
master-spirit, making a sign to Wodehouse. He had roused himself up, and
looked now like a feline creature preparing for a spring--his eyes were
cast down, but under the eyelids he followed his brother's movements
with vigilant observation. "If you like, you can betray him," he
repeated, slowly, understanding, as bad men so often do, the
generosities of the nature to which his own was so much opposed.

And perhaps there was an undue degree of exasperation in the indignant
feelings which moved Mr Wentworth. He kicked off his dusty boots with
an indecorum quite unusual to him, and hunted up his slippers out of
the adjoining room with perhaps an unnecessary amount of noise and
haste. Then he went and looked out of the window into the serene
summer darkness and the dewy garden, getting a little fresh air upon
his heated face. Last of all he came back, peremptory and decided. "I
shall not betray him," said the Perpetual Curate; "but I will have no
further schemes concocted nor villany carried on in my house. If I
consent to shield him, and, if possible, save him from the law, it is
neither for his sake--nor yours," said the indignant young man. "I
suppose it is no use saying anything about your life; but both of you
have fathers very like to die of this--"

"My dear fellow," said Jack Wentworth, "we have gone through that
phase ages ago. Don't be so much after date. I have brought down my
father's grey hairs, &c., a hundred times; and, I daresay, so h