eased imagining of some hysterical phantom. Do _you_ believe that
such a thing as Lagune exists? I must own to the gravest doubts. But
happily his banker is of a more credulous type than I.... Of all that
Lagune will tell you soon enough."

Lewisham read no more. "I suppose he thought himself clever when he
wrote that rot," said Lewisham bitterly, throwing the sheets forcibly
athwart the table. "The simple fact is, he's stolen, or forged, or
something--and bolted."

There was a pause. "What will become of Mother?" said Ethel.

Lewisham looked at Mother and thought for a moment. Then he glanced
at Ethel.

"We're all in the same boat," said Lewisham.

"I don't want to give any trouble to a single human being," said
Mrs. Chaffery.

"I think you might get a man his tea, Ethel," said Lewisham, sitting
down suddenly; "anyhow." He drummed on the table with his fingers. "I
have to get to Walham Green by a quarter to seven."

"We're all in the same boat," he repeated after an interval, and
continued drumming. He was chiefly occupied by the curious fact that
they were all in the same boat. What an extraordinary faculty he had
for acquiring responsibility! He looked up suddenly and caught
Mrs. Chaffery's tearful eye directed to Ethel and full of distressful
interrogation, and his perplexity was suddenly changed to pity. "It's
all right, Mother," he said. "I'm not going to be unreasonable. I'll
stand by you."

"Ah!" said Mrs. Chaffery. "As if I didn't know!" and Ethel came and
kissed him.

He seemed in imminent danger of universal embraces.

"I wish you'd let me have my tea," he said. And while he had his tea
he asked Mrs. Chaffery questions and tried to get the new situation
into focus.

But even at ten o'clock, when he was returning hot and jaded from
Walham Green, he was still trying to get the situation into
focus. There were vague ends and blank walls of interrogation in the
matter, that perplexed him.

He knew that his supper would be only the prelude to an interminable
"talking over," and indeed he did not get to bed until nearly two. By
that time a course of action was already agreed upon. Mrs. Chaffery
was tied to the house in Clapham by a long lease, and thither they
must go. The ground floor and first floor were let unfurnished, and
the rent of these practically paid the rent of the house. The
Chafferys occupied basement and second floor. There was a bedroom on
the second floor, formerly let to the first