overy of this one might be to his ward, it
might be best that he should know it now, instead of hovering
indefinitely in profitless mystery.

It was, therefore, with some sense of relief that, half-way home, he
perceived Dr Brandram in the road ahead. The doctor was, in fact,
bound for Maxfield.

"By the way, doctor," said the tutor, determined to take the bull by the
horns, and glaring at his friend rather fiercely through his eye-glass,
"we were talking about you just now. Roger has been telling me about an
elder brother of his who died long ago and thinks some record of the
death should be made on the vault. I think so too."

"I was saying," said Roger, "my father never cared to talk about it; so,
except that he died abroad, and that his name was the same as mine, I
really don't know much about him. Did you know him?"

The doctor looked uncomfortable, and not altogether grateful to Mr
Armstrong for landing him in this dilemma.

"Don't you think," said he, ignoring the last question, "as the Squire
did not put up an inscription, it would be better to leave the tomb as
it is?"

"I don't see that," said the boy. "Of course I should say where he
really did die. Where was that, by the way?"

"I really did not hear. Abroad, I understood your father to say."

"Was he delicate, then, that he had to go away? How old was he,
doctor?"

"Upon my word, he was so seldom at home, and, when he was, I saw so
little of him, that my memory is very hazy about him altogether. He
can't have been more than a boy of fifteen or sixteen, I should say. By
the way, Roger, how does the new cob do?"

"Middling. He's rather lumpy to ride. I shall get mother to swop him
for a horse, if she can. I say, doctor, what was he like?"

"Who?--The cob? Oh, your brother! I fancy he was a fine young fellow,
but not particularly good-looking."

"At all like me?"

"Not at all, I should say. But really, as I say, I can recall very
little about him."

The doctor uttered this in a tone which conveyed so broad a hint that he
did not relish the subject, that Roger, decidedly mystified, desisted
from further inquiries.

"What on earth," said the former to Mr Armstrong, when at last they had
reached Maxfield and the boy had left them, "what on earth has put all
this into his head?"

"I cannot tell you. I rather hoped you would tell him all you knew; it
would come better from you. If I know anything of Roger, he will find
it out