Mr. Thompson wiped his forehead, as Brutus might have done after passing judgment on the scion of his house. “These papers,” he went on, fluttering Ripton’s precious lucubrations in a waving judicial hand, “I shall retain. The day will come when he will regard them with shame. And it shall be his penance, his punishment, to do so! Stop!” he cried, as Ripton was noiselessly shutting his desk, “have you more of them, sir; of a similar description? Rout them out! Let us know you at your worst. What have you there—in that corner?” Ripton was understood to say he devoted that corner to old briefs on important cases. Mr. Thompson thrust his trembling fingers among the old briefs, and turned over the volume Sir Austin had observed, but without much remarking it, for his suspicions had not risen to print. “A Manual of Heraldry?” the baronet politely, and it may be ironically, inquired, before it could well escape. “I like it very much,” said Ripton, clutching the book in dreadful torment. “Allow me to see that you have our arms and crest correct.” The baronet proffered a hand for the book. “A Griffin between two Wheatsheaves,” cried Ripton, still clutching it nervously. Mr. Thompson, without any notion of what he was doing, drew the book from Ripton’s hold; whereupon the two seniors laid their grey heads together over the title-page. It set forth in attractive characters beside a coloured frontispiece, which embodied the promise displayed there, the entrancing adventures of Miss Random, a strange young lady. Had there been a Black Hole within the area of those law regions to consign Ripton to there and then, or an Iron Rod handy to mortify his sinful flesh, Mr. Thompson would have used them. As it was, he contented himself by looking Black Holes and Iron Rods at the detected youth, who sat on his perch insensible to what might happen next, collapsed. Mr. Thompson cast the wicked creature down with a “Pah!” He, however, took her up again, and strode away with her. Sir Austin gave Ripton a forefinger, and kindly touched his head, saying, “Good-bye, boy! At some future date Richard will be happy to see you at Raynham.” Undoubtedly this was a great triumph to the System! CHAPTER XVII The conversation between solicitor and client was resumed. “Is it possible,” quoth Mr. Thompson, the moment he had ushered his client into his private room, “that you will consent, Sir Austin, to see him and receive him again?” “Certainly,” the baronet replied. “Why not? This by no means astonishes me. When there is no longer danger to my son he will be welcome as he was before. He is a schoolboy. I knew it. I expected it. The results of your principle, Thompson!”