"The servants--the small debts--this house--is there enough for them?"
asked Stafford, after a pause.
Mr. Chaffinch waved his hand.
"No need to trouble about that, my lord. There will be sufficient at
the bank to pay such small claims. Your lordship will keep the house
on?"
Stafford looked up with a sudden energy. "No," he said; "not a moment
longer than is necessary. I shall return to my old rooms."
"There is no occasion," began Mr. Chaffinch. "I need scarcely say that
the bank will honour your lordship's cheques for any amount."
"Please get rid of this house as soon as possible," said Stafford. He
rose as he spoke. "You will remain to lunch?"
They murmured a negative, and Stafford begging to be excused, left the
room, signing to Howard to follow him. He did not mean it, but his
manner, in the abstraction of his grief was as lordly as if he had
inherited an earldom of five centuries. When they had got back to the
little darkened room in which he had sat since his father's death,
Stafford turned to Howard: "At what time and place is this meeting to-morrow, Howard?" he asked.
"At Gloucester House, Broad Street. Four."
Stafford nodded, and was lost in thought for a moment or two, then he
said: "Howard, will you send my horses to Tattersall's? And the yacht to the
agents, for sale? There is nothing else, I think. I used to have some
diamond studs and rings, but I've lost them. I was always careless.
Great Heaven! When I think of the money I have spent, money that I
would give my life for now!"
"But, my dear old chap, a hundred thousand pounds! Four thousand a
year--it's not too much for a man in your position, but there's no need
to sell your horses."
Stafford laid his hand on Howard's shoulder and looked into his eyes
and laughed strangely; then his hands dropped and he turned away with a
sigh.
"Leave me now, Howard," he said, "I want to think--to think."
He sank into a chair, when Howard had gone, and tried to think of his
future; but it was only the past that rose to his mind; and it was not
altogether of his father that he thought, but of--Ida. In his sacrifice
of himself, he had sacrificed her. And Fate had punished him for his
forced treachery. He sat with his head in his hands, for hours,
recalling those eyes, and yes, kissed her sweet lips. God, what a
bankrupt he was! His father, his sweetheart, his wealth--all had been
taken from him.