Upon this, Georgie, perceiving the distress of his old protector, set up a terrible howl, and declared that he would never leave him.
"Mr. Maldon," said Robert Audley, with a tone which was half-mournful, half-compassionate, "when I looked at my position last night, I did not believe that I could ever come to think it more painful than I thought it then. I can only say--God have mercy upon us all. I feel it my duty to take the child away, but I shall take him straight from your house to the best school in Southampton; and I give you my honor that I will extort nothing from his innocent simplicity which can in any manner--I mean," he said, breaking off abruptly, "I mean this. I will not seek to come one step nearer the secret through him. I--I am not a detective officer, and I do not think the most accomplished detective would like to get his information from a child."
The old man did not answer; he sat with his face shaded by his hand, and with his extinguished pipe between the listless fingers of the other.
"Take the boy away, Mrs. Plowson," he said, after a pause; "take him away and put his things on. He is going with Mr. Audley."
"Which I do say that it's not kind of the gentleman to take his poor grandpa's pet away," Mrs. Plowson exclaimed, suddenly, with respectful indignation.
"Hush, Mrs. Plowson," the old man answered, piteously; "Mr. Audley is the best judge. I--I haven't many years to live; I sha'n't trouble anybody long."
The tears oozed slowly through the dirty fingers with which he shaded his blood-shot eyes, as he said this.
"God knows, I never injured your friend, sir," he said, by-and-by, when Mrs. Plowson and Georgey had returned, "nor even wished him any ill. He was a good son-in-law to me--better than many a son. I never did him any wilful wrong, sir. I--I spent his money, perhaps, but I am sorry for it--I am very sorry for it now. But I don't believe he is dead--no, sir; no, I don't believe it!" exclaimed the old man, dropping his hand from his eyes, and looking with new energy at Robert Audley. "I--I don't believe it, sir! How--how should he be dead?"
Robert did not answer this eager questioning. He shook his head mournfully, and, walking to the little window, looked out across a row of straggling geraniums at the dreary patch of waste ground on which the children were at play.
Mrs. Plowson returned with little Georgey muffled in a coat and comforter, and Robert took the boy's hand.