ef, hurried reply; it said:--

"I saw Madame de Florac last night at her daughter's reception, and she
gave me my dear uncle's messages. Yes, the news is true which you have
heard from Madame de Florac, and in Bryanstone Square. I did not like
to write it to you, because I know one whom I regard as a brother (and
a great, great deal better), and to whom I know it will give pain. He
knows that I have done my duty, and why I have acted as I have done. God
bless him and his dear father!

"What is this about a letter which I never answered? Grandmamma knows
nothing about a letter. Mamma has enclosed to me that which you wrote
to her, but there has been no letter from T. N. to his sincere and
affectionate E. N.

"Rue de Rivoli. Friday."

This was too much, and the cup of Thomas Newcome's wrath overflowed.
Barnes had lied about Ethel's visit to London: Barnes had lied in saying
that he delivered the message with which his uncle charged him: Barnes
had lied about the letter which he had received, and never sent. With
these accusations firmly proven in his mind against his nephew, the
Colonel went down to confront that sinner.

Wherever he should find Barnes, Thomas Newcome was determined to tell
him his mind. Should they meet on the steps of a church, on the flags of
'Change, or in the newspaper-room at Bays's, at evening-paper time, when
men most do congregate, Thomas the Colonel was determined upon exposing
and chastising his father's grandson. With Ethel's letter in his
pocket, he took his way into the City, penetrated into the unsuspecting
back-parlour of Hobson's bank, and was disappointed at first at only
finding his half-brother Hobson there engaged over his newspaper. The
Colonel signified his wish to see Sir Barnes Newcome. "Sir Barnes was
not come in yet. You've heard about the marriage," says Hobson. "Great
news for the Barnes's, ain't it? The head of the house is as proud as
a peacock about it. Said he was going out to Samuels, the diamond
merchants; going to make his sister some uncommon fine present. Jolly to
be uncle to a marquis, ain't it, Colonel? I'll have nothing under a
duke for my girls. I say, I know whose nose is out of joint. But young
fellows get over these things, and Clive won't die this time, I dare
say."

While Hobson Newcome made these satiric and facetious remarks, his
half-brother paced up and down the glass parlour, scowling over the
panes into the bank where the busy young clerks sate