He drained his glass like the brave old boy that he was; and when his eyes had done streaming, and he had finished gasping and choking, bade Susan hurry away the signs of the dreadful deed before her mistress should catch her.
“And now tell me your plans, George. Which road to Harley Street, eh?”
Then George poured into those kindly old ears all the tragic story--the girl he was going to marry; the practice he was going to buy; the wrecker who had wrecked his fair ships ere ever he had put to sea.
There were in the Professor's nature no sympathies that enabled him even to comprehend miserliness in any degree. Made aware of the taint in Mr. Marrapit, he became red and furious in his abhorrence of it. With snorts and fumes he punctuated the recital; when it closed, burst out: “Why, but it is yours! the money is yours. It is misappropriation.”
“Well, he must be made to give it you.” George laughed grimly. “I say that, too. But how?”
“I've been to Somerset house and seen my mother's will.”
“Legally, then--we'll get it out of him by law.”
“I've thought of that,” George said. “I don't think it is possible. Look, the passage runs like this. I have it word for word. 'To my brother Christopher Marrapit 4000 pounds, and I desire him to educate in the medical profession my son George.' Not even 'with which I desire him,' you see. I don't think there's any legal way of getting the money I want--the five hundred.”
For full ten minutes Professor Wyvern made no answer. He stared in the fire, and every now and again one of his little chuckles set his bent old shoulders bobbing. Upon a longer chuckle they waggled for a space; then he turned to George. “Not legally; well, then, what about illegally, George?”
“A very bad notion has come into my head,” the Professor continued. “I ought to be ashamed of it, but I am not. I think it would be very funny. I think your uncle would deserve it. I am sure it would be very funny, and I think it would be proper and justifiable.”
The Professor's old shoulders bobbed about again. “No, I will not tell you,” he said. “I will not be a party to it; because if my wife found out she would send me to bed and keep me there. But I will tell you a little story, George. If it sets up a train of action that you like to follow--well, I think it will be very funny. Only, don't tell me.”