him. Now and then Pawson, who was
watching him intently, heard him strangle a rebellious sigh, as if
some old memory were troubling him. His hand dropped and with a quick
movement he faced his companion again.

"I have been away a long time, Mr. Pawson," he said in a thoughtful
tone. "For three months--four now--I have had no letters from anybody.
It was my fault partly, but let that go. I want you to answer some
questions, and I want you to tell me the truth--all the truth. I haven't
any use for any other kind of man--do you understand? Is my mother
alive?"

"Yes."

"And Alec? Is he all right?"

Pawson nodded.

"And my uncle? Is he ruined?--so badly ruined that he is suffering? Tell
me." There was a peculiar pathos in his tone--so much so that Pawson,
who had been standing, settled into a chair beside him that his answers
might, if possible, be the more intimate and sympathetic.

"I'm afraid he is. The only hope is the postponement in some way of the
foreclosure of the mortgage on this house until times get better. It
wouldn't bring its face value to-day."

Harry caught his breath: "My God!--you don't tell me so! Poor Uncle
George--so fine and splendid--so good to everybody, and he has come to
this! And about this mortgage--who owns it?"

"Mr. Gorsuch, I understand, owns it now: he bought it of the Tyson
estate."

"You mean John Gorsuch--my father's man of business?"

"Yes."

"And was there nothing left?--no money coming in from anywhere?"

Pawson shook his head: "We collected all that some time ago--it came
from some old ground rents."

"And how has he lived since?" He wanted to hear it all; he could help
better if he knew how far down the ladder to begin.

"From hand to mouth, really." And then there followed his own and
Gadgem's efforts to keep the wolf from the door; the sale of the guns,
saddles, and furniture; the wrench over the Castullux cup--and what
a godsend it was that Kirk got such a good price for it--down to the
parting with the last article that either or both of them could sell or
pawn, including his four splendid setters.

As the sad story fell from the attorney's sympathetic lips Harry would
now and then cover his face with his hands in the effort to hide the
tears. He knew that the ruin was now complete. He knew, too, that he had
been the cause of it. Then his thoughts reverted to the old regime and
its comforts: those which his uncle had shared with him so generously.

"And w