He had not expected a large sum of money--had certainly not expected the Hurst; and but for the words spoken by the dying man, he would not have expected anything at all, after having offended him in the matter of the money-lenders and the post-obit. But most assuredly the squire had intimated that there would be something--something, however small.
And now he was told that there was nothing, that his name was not even mentioned.
Apart from any mercenary consideration, Jack was cut up and disappointed; if there had been a simple mourning ring, a few of the old guns out of the armory--anything as a token of the old man's forgiveness, he would have been satisfied; but nothing, not one word.
Then, again, he could not understand it, near his end as he was when he spoke to him. The squire was as sane and clear-headed as he had been at any time of his life, or at least so it seemed to Jack; and he certainly had given him to understand that he had left him some portion of his immense wealth.
It was another link in the chain of mysteries which had seemed to coil around Jack since he started from London.
Slowly and thoughtfully he made his way back to the "Bush," and began to pack up the small portmanteau which had been sent from town.
Hurst Leigh was no place for him; every minute he remained in it seemed intolerable to him. He would go straight back to town by the next train.
Suddenly a thought struck him, and he paused in his task of packing the portmanteau, an operation which he reduced to its simplest by thrusting in anything that came first and jamming it down tight with his fist; he stopped and looked up with a red flush on his handsome face. Why shouldn't he go to Warden Forest on his way back?
In a moment, the idea thrilled him with the delight of anticipation, the next, a shade came over his brow. Why shouldn't he? Rather, why _should_ he? What was the use of his going? If he had no business there before, he had less excuse now. He was next door to a beggar--and----
Realizing for the first time the blow that had been dealt him by the squire's neglect, he continued at the jamming process, jumped and kicked at the portmanteau till it consented to be locked, and then went down to the bar and called for his bill.