“Confound your Kleptomania,” gasped out my Lord, turning on the Doctor so fiercely that he started as if he were shot; “can’t you call a spade a spade, man? It’s a clear case of robbery, and my only son is the thief! And he made another suffer for his crime! There, let me sit down--I feel faint;” and, so saying, the old lord let the desk fall from his hands, and would himself have fallen to the ground if I had not stepped forward and guided him to a sofa. It was a dreadful sight, Manwaring; the old father with his face buried in his hands, sobbing aloud, and the son with his green eyes moving furtively here and there, looking like some trapped beast of prey. After what seemed a long interval, my Lord looked up, and then I was shocked to observe that he looked years older than when we entered the room--quite old, I thought, and broken--but presently he spoke with a firm, though feeble voice: “Dr. Massenger, there is much to be done; I think Mr. Wilmot ought at once to be informed of the discovery of his stolen property, and if you think fit to hand that cowering thief yonder over to the detectives who are in the house, I shall not say one word to save him, and if he leaves you now, he will be at your or Mr. Wilmot’s disposal. I, too, must write at once to the poor father of this unfortunate young man, whom you expelled from your house upon evidence upon which I would not have hung a dog.” [You should only have seen how Massenger winced when my Lord said this!] “I think the least you can do is to start and go yourself to Mr. Manwaring. There are other things, too, to do and settle; the case of this wretched girl will have to be investigated and considered, so I must ask you to put me up for the night. I can occupy this room,” continued my Lord, as he glanced around him sadly, “if you allow the thief to depart; the carriage which brought me here must take him away from an honest household” (here he indicated his son by a movement of his hand); “I would not have him pollute it with his presence a moment more than is needful, and pray remember he will be forthcoming when he is wanted.” “My Lord, I’m sure we shall be gratified and honoured and delighted,” cried Mrs. Massenger (who must have been listening at the door), as she bustled into the room; “that is, if your Lordship will excuse such poor accommodation as we can offer. I am sure I am extremely sorry for what has occurred, but I am sure your Lordship will excuse me if I am glad to recover my diamonds, which were a legacy from my Aunt, Miss Trickleback--one of the Tricklebacks of Stockport; one must think of one’s family relics, mustn’t one, my Lord? and I hope, my Lord, you will use your Lordship’s influence to get back the two diamonds which that brazen huzzy----”