in your family."

"Do nothing of the sort! Say nothing to Regina or to any living
creature. Wait till I get well again--and leave me to deal with it. I am
the proper person to take it in hand. Don't you see that for yourself?
And, look here! there may be questions asked at the inquest. Some
impudent scoundrel on the jury may want to pry into what doesn't concern
him. The moment you're back in London, get a lawyer to represent us--the
sharpest fellow that can be had for money. Tell him to stop all prying
questions. Who the girl is, and what made that cursed young Socialist
Goldenheart take her upstairs with him--all that sort of thing has
nothing to do with the manner in which my wife met her death. You
understand? I look to you, Melton, to see yourself that this is done.
The less said at the infernal inquest, the better. In my position, it's
an exposure that my enemies will make the most of, as it is. I'm too ill
to go into the thing any further. No: I don't want Regina. Go to her in
the sitting room, and tell the courier to get you something to eat and
drink. And, I say! For God's sake don't be late for the Boulogne train
tomorrow morning."

Left by himself, he gave full vent to his fury; he cursed Amelius with
oaths that are not to be written.

He had burnt the letter which Mrs. Farnaby had written to him, on
leaving him forever; but he had not burnt out of his memory the words
which that letter contained. With his wife's language vividly present to
his mind, he could arrive at but one conclusion, after what Mr. Melton
had told him. Amelius was concerned in the discovery of his deserted
daughter; Amelius had taken the girl to her dying mother's bedside. With
his idiotic Socialist notions, he would be perfectly capable of owning
the truth, if inquiries were made. The unblemished reputation which John
Farnaby had built up by the self-seeking hypocrisy of a lifetime was
at the mercy of a visionary young fool, who believed that rich men were
created for the benefit of the poor, and who proposed to regenerate
society by reviving the obsolete morality of the Primitive Christians.
Was it possible for him to come to terms with such a person as this?
There was not an inch of common ground on which they could meet. He
dropped back on his pillow in despair, and lay for a while frowning and
biting his nails. Suddenly he sat up again in the bed, and wiped his
moist forehead, and heaved a heavy breath of relief. Had his illness