meannesses of yours. By Jove!
the fellow ought to have been a shopkeeper, and as honest as--Diogenes,"
said Jack. He stood looking at his wretched associate with the
overwhelming impertinence of a perfectly well-bred man, no way
concealing the contemptuous inspection with which his cool eyes
travelled over the disconcerted figure from top to toe, seeing and
exaggerating all its tremors and clumsy guiltiness. The chances are, had
Jack Wentworth been in Wodehouse's place, he would have been master of
the position as much as now. He was not shocked nor indignant like his
brothers. He was simply contemptuous, disdainful, not so much of the
wickedness as of the clumsy and shabby fashion in which it had been
accomplished. As for the offender, who had been defiant in his sulky
fashion up to this moment, his courage oozed out at his finger-ends
under Jack Wentworth's eye.

"I am my own master," he stammered, "nowadays. I aint to be dictated
to--and I shan't be, by Jove! As for Jack Wentworth, he's well known
to be neither more nor less--"

"Than what, Mr Wodehouse?" said the serene and splendid Jack. "Don't
interest yourself on my account, Frank. This is my business at
present. If you have any prayer-meetings in hand, we can spare
you--and don't forget our respectable friend in your supplications.
Favour us with your definition of Jack Wentworth, Mr Wodehouse. He is
neither more nor less--?"

"By Jove! I aint going to stand it," cried Wodehouse; "if a fellow's
to be driven mad, and insulted, and have his money won from him, and
made game of--not to say tossed about as I've been among 'em, and made
a drudge of, and set to do the dirty work," said the unfortunate
subordinate, with a touch of pathos in his hoarse voice;--"I don't
mean to say I've been what I ought; but, by Jove! to be put upon as
I've been, and knocked about; and at the last they haven't the pluck
to stand by a fellow, by Jove!" muttered Mr Wodehouse's unlucky heir.
What further exasperation his smiling superior intended to heap upon
him nobody could tell; for just as Jack Wentworth was about to speak,
and just as Wodehouse had again faced towards him, half-cowed,
half-resisting, Gerald, who had been looking on in silence, came
forward out of the shadow. He had seen all and heard all, from that
moral deathbed of his, where no personal cares could again disturb
him; and though he had resigned his office, he could not belie his
nature. He came in by instinct to