They were remarkably quiet and uncommunicative at the old Lamb Inn, which had the honour of harbouring them; but evidently the fresh air had loosened their tongues. For a clergyman and his son their style of conversation was, to say the least of it, peculiar. ‘We must do it to-night, Boss,’ said the elder; ‘soon after dusk. The swag’s all in jewels, and a grab’ll collar the lot.’ ‘Right ye are, Josh,’ answered the young gentleman. ‘But I hope Jim’s give us the right tip.’ ‘Trust Jim,’ said the Rev. gentleman; ‘he’s put up three jobs for me in cribs where he’s been, and I’ve always been able to put my hand on the swag jes’ as if I’d put it out for myself. There’s only the old man to tackle.’ ‘No wierlence, I’ope, Josh, eh?—nothink as’ud disgrace the cloth?’ The Rev. gentleman laughed. ‘Wierlence? No. Don’t you be afeard, young un. This is only kid’s play, or I shouldn’t have brought you. The old cove ain’t likely to show fight—we shan’t give him the chance; and the servants’ll all be out of the way.’ ‘Right,’ answered the young gentleman, glancing admiringly at his elegant suit. ‘I likes to do the thing like a gent, and wierlance is so doosid low nowadays.’ Perhaps if the landlord of the Lamb Inn had overheard this strange conversation between his highly respectable guests he would not have welcomed them back from their stroll with quite such a pleasant smile. CHAPTER XXVIII. SQUIRE HERITAGE MAKES A WILL. Old Squire Heritage had aged very rapidly after the abrupt departure of his son from the hall. Of a naturally gloomy and austere disposition, and strongly biased towards the cold and uncompromising religious views which a large section of the English people have had transmitted to them through many generations from the old Puritans, the squire believed the blow which had fallen upon him was dealt by a Divine hand. He had, in his unsympathetic way, been very proud of his son George. The harshness that the young man so bitterly resented was only the result of a mistaken idea of parental duty. When his son showed a taste not only for the frivolities but also for what the squire considered the vices of the age, he felt that stern repression was necessary. In the old days of parental despotism he would have flung his son into prison; in the enlightened times which forbade the head of a family to declare his domestic circle in a state of siege and proclaim military law, he contented himself by reprimanding the prodigal, treating him with icy displeasure, and eventually renouncing all ties of kinship with him. By an ordinarily constituted father George’s misdeeds would have been treated as youthful follies, and though the parental anger might have been fierce when the parental pocket was touched, it is probable far less drastic remedies would have been considered necessary.