ost-obit_. Wodehouse seems to have brought his
ancestor down at the first shot almost; but then there's no entail in
his case, and the old fellow may have made a will. I beg your pardon;
you don't like this sort of talk. I forgot you were a clergyman. I
rather like this town of yours, do you know. Sweet situation, and good
for the health, I should say. I'll take your advice, I think, about
the--how did you call it?--Black Boar. Unless, indeed, some charitable
family would take me in," said the elder brother, with a glance from
under his eyelids. His real meaning did not in the least degree
suggest itself to the Curate, who was thinking more of what was past
than of what was to come.

"You seem to take a great interest in Wodehouse?" said Mr Wentworth.

"Yes; and so do you," said Jack, with a keen glance of curiosity--"I
can't tell why. My interest in him is easily explained. If the affair
came to a trial, it might involve other people who are of retiring
dispositions and dislike publicity. I don't mind saying," continued
the heir of the Wentworths, laying down his knife and fork, and
looking across at his brother with smiling candour, "that I might
myself be brought before the world in a way which would wound my
modesty; so it must not be permitted to go any further, you perceive.
The partner has got a warrant out, but has not put it into execution
as yet. That's why I sent for you. You are the only man, so far as I
can see, that can be of any use."

"I don't know what you mean," said the Curate, hastily, "nor what
connection you can possibly have with Wodehouse; perhaps it is better
not to inquire. I mean to do my best for him, independent of you."

"Do," said Jack Wentworth, with a slight yawn; "it is much better not to
inquire. A clergyman runs the risk of hearing things that may shock him
when he enters into worldly business; but the position of mediator is
thoroughly professional. Now for the Black Boar. I'll send for my traps
when I get settled," he said, rising in his languid way. He had made a
very good breakfast, and he was not at all disposed to make himself
uncomfortable by quarrelling with his brother. Besides, he had a new
idea in his mind. So he gave the Curate another little good-humoured
nod, and disappeared into the sleeping-room, from which he emerged a few
minutes after with a coat replacing the dressing-gown, ready to go out.
"I daresay I shall see you again before I leave Carlingford," he said,