At last Pitcher and the cheese were gone, and young Scarborough produced
his cigars. "I want to smoke directly I've done eating," he said.
"Drinking goes with smoking as well as it does with eating, so there
need be no stop for that. Now, tell me, Annesley, what is it that you
think about Mountjoy?"
There was an abruptness in the question which for the moment struck
Harry dumb. How was he to say what he thought about Mountjoy
Scarborough, even though he should have no feeling to prevent him from
expressing the truth? He knew, or thought that he knew, Mountjoy
Scarborough to be a thorough blackguard; one whom no sense of honesty
kept from spending money, and who was now a party to robbing his
creditors without the slightest compunction,--for it was in Harry's mind
that Mountjoy and his father were in league together to save the
property by rescuing it from the hands of the Jews. He would have
thought the same as to the old squire,--only that the old squire had not
interfered with him in reference to Florence Mountjoy.
And then there was present to his mind the brutal attack which had been
made on himself in the street. According to his views Mountjoy
Scarborough was certainly a blackguard; but he did not feel inclined
quite to say so to the brother, nor was he perfectly certain as to his
host's honesty.
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