unless--unless you cut out such people
as Celeste La Rue and others that you train with. I'm tired of paying
bills for your inane extravagances and parties. I can curtail your
income and what's more, I will unless you change."

"Cut me off?" The younger Cavendish's voice took on an incredulous
note.

The other nodded. "Just that," he said. "You've reached the limit."

For a moment the dissipated youth surveyed his cousin, then an angry
flush mounted into his pasty face.

"You--you--" he stuttered, "--you go to hell."

Without another word the elderly Cavendish summoned the waiter, paid
the bill, and walked toward the door. John stared after him, a smile
of derision on his face. He had heard Cavendish threaten before.

"Your cousin seemed peeved," suggested Miss La Rue.

"It's his nature," explained John. "Got sore because I asked him for a
mere hundred and threatened to cut off my income unless I quit you two."

"You told him where to go," Miss La Rue said, laughing. "I heard you,
but I don't suppose he'll go--he doesn't look like that kind."

"Anyhow, I told him," laughed John; then producing a large bill, cried:
"Drink up, people, they're on me--and goody-goody cousin Fred."

When Frederick Cavendish reached the street and the fresh night air
raced through his lungs he came to a sudden realisation and then a
resolution. The realisation was that since further pleading would
avail nothing with John Cavendish, he needed a lesson. The resolution
was to give it to him. Both strengthened his previous half-hearted
desire to meet Westcott, into determination.

He turned the matter over in his mind as he walked along until
reflection was ended by the doors of the College Club which appeared
abruptly and took him in their swinging circle. He went immediately to
the writing-room, laid aside his things and sat down. The first thing
to do, he decided, was to obtain an attorney and consult him regarding
the proper steps. For no other reason than that they had met
occasionally in the corridor he thought of Patrick Enright, a heavy-set
man with a loud voice and given to wearing expensive clothes.

Calling a page boy, he asked that Enright be located if possible.
During the ensuing wait he outlined on a scrap of paper what he
proposed doing. Fifteen minutes passed before Enright, suave and
apparently young except for growing baldness, appeared.

"I take it you are Mr. Cavendish," he said, advancing, "a