ht to see him."

Christopher did not offer to move.

"You shan't see him till you tell me what brings you here, Nevil," he
said firmly.

The other shook his head. "That's a bad argument, Christopher.
However, I'll pretend it's effectual. There's a man at Leamington who
has some records he considers priceless, but which I think are frauds.
I thought if I came up to-day I could travel down with you
to-morrow."

It sounded plausible--too plausible when Christopher considered the
difficulty it was to rouse Nevil even to go to London. There might be
a man in Leamington, but he didn't believe Nevil had come to see him.

"You are growing very energetic, Nevil," he said slowly, "all this
trouble over some fraudulent records."

"They might be genuine, and really important," Nevil suggested
cautiously.

"At all events I was not returning till Saturday, and Mr. Masters
wants me to stay till Monday now, and go to London with him then."

Nevil crossed and uncrossed his long legs, gazing abstractedly at a
modern picture of mediaeval warfare.

"Those helmets are fifteen years too late for that battle," he
volunteered, "and the pikes are German, not French. What a rotten
picture. Don't you think you could come back with me? I hate
travelling alone. I always believe I shall get mislaid and be taken to
the Lost Property Office. Porters are so careless."

He did not look round, but continued to examine the details of the
offending picture.

Christopher leant over his chair and put his hands on Nevil's
shoulders.

"Nevil, I can't stand any more. Tell me why I am to come back."

The other looked up at him with a rueful little smile, singularly like
his father's.

"You were not always so dense, Christopher. I hoped you wouldn't ask
questions that are too difficult to answer. To begin with, neither my
father nor Aymer know I've come. They think I'm in town. You see,
Caesar misses you, though he wouldn't have you think so for the world,
in case it added to your natural conceit, but it makes him--cross,
yes, rather particularly cross and that upsets the house. I can't
write at all, so I thought you had better come back. The fact is," he
added with a burst of confidence, "I've promised an article on the
Masterpieces of Freedom for August. I seldom promise, but I like to
keep my word if I do, and it's impossible to write now. If you're
enjoying yourself it's horribly selfish--but you see the importance of
it, don't you?"

"Y