undertaken the voyage at the suggestion of some new doctor whose advice
he had sought, and he had been so ill during the six weeks' voyage
that, so far, he had never been able to summon sufficient pluck to
start home again.

Jimmy had roared with laughter when he heard; he could so well imagine
his brother's disgust and fear. As a matter of fact, it suited Jimmy
very well that the head of the family should be so far removed from
him. He hated supervision; he liked to feel that he had got a free
hand; that he need not go in fear of running up against Horatio
Ferdinand at every street corner.

He read his brother's closely written pages now with a long-suffering
air. Jimmy hated writing letters, and he hated receiving them; most
things bored him in these days; he had been drifting for so long, and
under Cynthia Farrow's tuition he would very likely have finally
drifted altogether into a slack, nothing-to-do man about town, very
little good to himself or anyone else.

Horatio Ferdinand wrote:--

DEAR JAMES,-- (He hated abbreviations; he would never allow people to
call him "Horace"; his writing was cramped and formal like himself.) I
have heard a rather disquieting rumour about you from a mutual friend,
and shall be glad if you will kindly write to me upon receipt of this
letter and inform me if there is any truth in the allegation that you
are constantly seen in the company of a certain actress. I hardly
think this can be so, as you well know my dislike of the stage and
anything appertaining thereto. My health is greatly improved by my
visit here, and all being well I shall probably risk making the return
voyage after Christmas. Upon second consideration, I shall be glad if
you will cable your reply to me, as the mail takes six weeks, as you
know.--Your affectionate brother.

Jimmy crushed the letter in his hand.

"Damned old idiot!" he said under his breath. He got up, and began
striding about the room angrily. The tassels of his dressing-gown
swung wildly at each agitated step; the big carpet slippers he wore
flapped ungracefully.

"Confounded old fathead."

Jimmy was flushed, and his eyes sparkled. He ran his fingers through
his hair, making it stand on end. After a few strides he felt better.
He went back to the armchair and took up his brother's letter once more.

After a moment he laughed, rather a sore laugh, as if something in the
stilted wording of the letter hurt him.

What would he