"Listen to what my father has to say," cried young Peter. "You will see that we both wish to be friendly." His face was partly hidden; nevertheless I saw the curious light shining from his eyes. He was undersized, this young Peter, just as his father was. A foxy expression was on his face, and his mouth betrayed his nature. He was cunning and sensual. His was not unlike a monkey's face. His forehead receded, his lips were thick, his ears large. "Roger Trevanion, my lad, there is no reason why you should have to leave your old home. Nay, there is no reason why you should not be better off than you have been. That is why I got this paper from Edward Prideaux." Old Peter spoke slowly, looking at me from the corner of his eyes. "You want me to do something," I said after a minute's silence. "Ah, Roger," laughed the old man, "how quickly you jump at conclusions." "It will not do, Peter Trevisa," I cried. "You have Trevanion. Well, make the most of it. I[Pg 20] shall not be sorry to be away from the county. The thought that everything has really belonged to you has hung like a millstone around my neck. I am not going to fetch and carry for you." [Pg 20] "But if you had the deeds back. If I burnt this paper. If the estate were unencumbered. What then?" "You know it will not be. Trust you to give up your pound of flesh." "You do me an injustice," replied old Peter, with a semblance of righteous indignation. "What right have you to say this? Have I been hard on you. Have I dunned you for your money." "No; but you have lost no opportunity of letting me know that the place belongs to you." "That was natural, very natural. I wanted to put a check on your extravagance." I laughed in his face, for I knew this to be a lie. "Roger Trevanion," cried young Peter, "my father is a merciful man. He has your welfare at heart. He is old too. Is it manly to mock old age." "Let there be an end of this," I cried. "I begin to see why you have brought me here. I knew you had some deep-laid plans or I would not have
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