Mr. Henry laid his hat and gloves on the table, rubbed his handkerchief across his damp brow: it was strange how a very little exertion would put him into a heat now: and led the way to his parlour. "I wish I could tell you, Sir Simon," he answered, with a smile. "I would have told your nephew had I been able." "Can you assure me that there is nobody staying in the house?" What was Mr. Henry to answer? To say There is not, would have been untrue: to say There is, might bring somebody trouble. "Let me tell you why I ask," cried Sir Simon, who was by far too open-minded a man to succeed in any matter that required craft. "A friend of mine, at present in this neighbourhood, has an idea that he is being looked after for a debt he owes: he got to hear, by hook or by crook, that some rather suspicious-looking stranger had been seen talking to you, might even be in this house; he thinks it may be his creditor, and seems to be pretty near out of his senses with fright. That's just the truth." "I wish with all my heart I had got a debtor in this part of the world," cried the voice of a strange head, putting itself in at the door: and the interruption was so unexpected that Sir Simon backed a few paces in surprise. "Why, Tom!" he exclaimed. "Is it you?" "Yes, it's me," answered Tom Brabazon; forgetting his grammar. "Excuse my having listened. I am not afraid of you, Sir Simon, but what are you asking questions about me for?" "It was not about you I was asking. Is _this_ the friend Raymond saw you speaking to?" continued Sir Simon, turning to Mr. Henry. "Yes it is. You perceive it was not my own secret." "Tell your friend, Sir Simon, that I've more need to run away from him than he from me," interposed Tom Brabazon. "Here I am; under a deuced cloud; tormenting Mother Butter out of her daily wits, frightening my sister at odd and even hours, worrying Mr. Henry to fiddle-strings. They are getting up a scheme of emigration for me, Emma, and the doctor, but funds run scarce with him just now, and he thinks I'm in Whitecross Street. The safest place going, he says, for me. It won't do to tell him I'm here." "I'll contribute to the emigration, Tom," cried Sir Simon, his benevolent eyes glistening. "I'll try and make things straighter for you with the doctor. Mr. Henry has been keeping your secret, I see." "In first-rate style, too! He has done all sorts of things for me: home with my temper when I've invaded his room at night; gone to and fro with messages for Emma; bought my smoke for me, for old Butter said she'd not, and stands to it. What a droll man that friend of yours must be, to be afraid of _me!_" "But, you see, Tom, we thought it was somebody else," returned Sir Simon, who really understood less than ever his brother-in-law's anxiety. But the relief to that gentleman would no doubt be very great.