h care in the Rue de la Paix. His hair was brushed
until it shone with the proper amount of polish, his nails were
perfectly manicured, even his cigarette came from the dealer whose
wares were the caprice of the moment. That his complexion was pallid
and that underneath his eyes were faint blue lines, which were
certainly not the hall-marks of robust health, disturbed him not at
all. These things were correct. Health was by no means a desideratum in
the set to which he was striving to belong. He looked through his
eyeglass at his brother and groaned.

"Really, Andrew," he said calmly, but with an undernote of anger
trembling in his tone, "I am surprised to see you like this! You might,
I think, have had a little more consideration. Can't you realize what a
sight you are, and what a mess you're making!"

Andrew took off his cap and shook it, so that a little shower of salt
water splashed on to the polished floor.

"Never mind, Cecil," he said good-humouredly. "You've all the
deportment that's necessary in this family. And salt water doesn't
stain. These boards have been washed with it many a time."

The young man's face lost none of his irritation.

"But what on earth have you been doing?" he exclaimed. "Where have you
been to get in a state like that?"

Andrew's face was suddenly overcast. It did not please him to think of
those last few hours.

"I had to go out to bring a mad woman home," he said. "Kate Caynsard
was out in her catboat a day like this. It was suicide if I hadn't
reached her in time."

"You--did reach her in time?" the young man asked quickly.

Andrew turned to face the questioner, and the eyes of the brothers met.
Again the differences between them seemed to be suddenly and
marvellously accentuated. Andrew's cheeks, bronzed and hardened with a
life spent wholly out of doors, were glistening still with the salt
water which dripped down from his hair and hung in sparkling globules
from his beard. Cecil was paler than ever; there was something almost
furtive in that swift insistent look. Perhaps he recognized something
of what was in the other's mind. At any rate the good-nature left his
manner--his tone took to itself a sterner note.

"I came back," he said grimly. "I should not have come back alone. She
was hard to save, too," he added, after a moment's pause.

"She is mad," Cecil muttered. "A queer lot, all the Caynsards."

"She is as sane as you or I," his brother answered. "She does rash