n to know that Mr. Shafto himself paid everything
monthly--which is more than we can say for his wife; even her bridge
losses"; here she halted on the brink of scandal.

After hesitating for a second, Mrs. Billing continued:

"Well, it appears, from what my husband can gather, that Mr. Shafto
trusted all his money and investments to a man who had managed his
affairs for years, and in whom he had the most absolute confidence; he
just drew his income regularly, lived his quiet life, and never
troubled his head about business. It seems that for a considerable
time this agent had been speculating with his clients' capital, and
paying them the interest to the day. He staved off the reckoning by
every possible device, and when he could no longer hide his wickedness,
when liabilities poured in, and proceedings were instituted, he shot
himself! Not much comfort in that for the families he has beggared. I
believe he had a splendid establishment at Hampstead; greenhouses,
pictures, motor-cars, and entertained like a prince. He squandered the
handsome fortune that was left to Mr. Shafto, and all that Mr. Shafto
could be sure of, about a hundred and fifty pounds a year, belongs to
Douglas."

"Oh, my dear, never mind the money, but do tell us about poor Mr.
Shafto," urged Jane. "What was the cause of his death? Suicide? This
morning I thought I heard a shot!"

"No, no, no--heart failure," hastily interposed Mrs. Billing. "He was
always troubled with a rickety heart, and on several occasions my
husband attended him for rather dangerous fainting attacks; no doubt
that was partly the reason why he lived so quietly, just taken up with
his books, his garden, and, when he was at home, his boy. It appears
that when Mr. Shafto heard of the smash, he went straight up to London,
interviewed a lawyer, and learnt the worst. He returned in the
afternoon, very tired and excited, broke the news to his wife, and had
a serious fainting attack. My husband was sent for, but he found Mr.
Shafto sinking. He died at midnight. He himself had wired for
Douglas, who arrived just in time for the end. Poor boy! He feels it
terribly."

"Yes," assented Miss Mitty, "Douglas and his father were such friends.
The loss of money will make a sad difference to him. There will be no
going into the Army now, no more hunting and cricket; he will have to
take a clerkship. Did you see him?"

"Yes. He and my Freddy are great pals, so I know him pre