."

Mordaunt watched him through his cigarette smoke for a few seconds in
silence, until in fact with a slight movement of impatience Rupert
turned.

"I'm no good at fencing," he said, rather irritably. "You want Kellerton
Old Park, Chris tells me. Have you seen it?"

"No."

"Then"--he sat back with a laugh that sounded rather forced--"that ends
it," he declared. "The place has gone to rack and ruin. You can't walk up
the avenue for the thistles. They are shoulder high. And as for the
house, it's not much more than a rubbish-heap. It would cost more than
it's worth to make it habitable. We have been trying to get rid of the
place ever since my father's death, but it's no manner of use. People get
let in by the agent's description and go and see it, but they all come
away shuddering. You'll do the same."

"I shall certainly go and see it," Mordaunt said. "Perhaps I shall
persuade Chris to motor down with me some day. But in any case, if you
are selling--I'm buying."

Rupert jumped up suddenly. "I won't take you seriously till you've seen
it," he declared.

"Oh yes, you will," Mordaunt returned imperturbably. "Because, you see, I
am serious. But we haven't come to business yet. I want to know what
price you are asking for this ancestral dwelling of yours."

"We would take almost anything," Rupert said.

He had begun to fidget about the room with a restlessness that was
feverish. Mordaunt remained in his easy-chair, calmly smoking, obviously
awaiting the information for which he had asked.

"Almost anything," Rupert repeated, halting at the table to drink some
coffee.

The hand that held the cup was not over-steady. Mordaunt's eyes rested
upon it thoughtfully.

"I should like to know," he said, after a moment.

Rupert gulped his coffee and looked down at him. "Murchison said ten
thousand when my father died," he said. "He would probably begin by
saying ten now, but he would end by taking five."

"Murchison is your solicitor?"

"And trustee up to a year ago."

"I see." Mordaunt reached for his own coffee. "And you? You think ten
thousand would be a fair price?"

Rupert broke again into his uneasy laugh. "I think it would be an
infernal swindle," he said.

"I will talk it over with Mr. Murchison," Mordaunt said quietly. "I only
wanted to be sure that you were quite willing to sell before doing so."

Rupert took a turn up the room. He looked thoroughly ill-at-ease. Coming
back, he halted by the mante