It's a bad look
out for Brian. He's a ruined man."

"Not from a pecuniary point of view. The property goes to him."

"Yes, but he hasn't the strength to put up with the slights and the
scandal which will go with it. He has the pluck, but not the physique.
It's men like him that go out of their minds, or commit suicide, or die
of heart-break--which you doctors call by some other name, of
course--when the world's against them. He'll never stand it. Mark my
words--Brian Luttrell won't be to the fore this time next year."

"Where will he be, Colquhoun? Come, come, Brian's a fellow with brains.
He won't do anything rash."

"He'll be in his grave," said the lawyer, gloomily.

"Hell be enjoying himself in the metropolis," said the doctor. "He'll
have a fine house and a pretty wife, and he'll laugh in our faces if we
hint at your prophecies, Colquhoun. I should have had no respect at all
for Brian Luttrell if he threw away his own life because he had
accidentally taken that of another man."

"We shall see," said the lawyer.

CHAPTER VI.

MOTHER AND SON.

Early on the following morning Brian received a message from his mother.
It was the first communication that she had vouchsafed to him since the
day of her eldest son's death. "Would he come to her dressing-room at
eleven o'clock? She wished to consult him upon special business." Brian
sent word that he would be with her at that hour, and then fell into
anxious meditation as he sat at breakfast, with Hugo at the other end of
the table.

"Don't go far away from the house, Hugo," he said at last, as he rose to
leave the room. "I may want you in the course of the morning."

Hugo looked up at him without answering. The lad had been studying a
newspaper, with his head supported by his left hand, while his right
played with his coffee cup or the morsels of food upon his plate. He did
not seem to have much appetite. His great, dark eyes looked larger than
usual, and were ringed with purple shadow; his lips were tremulous. "It
was wonderful," as people said, "to see how that poor young fellow felt
his cousin's death."

Perhaps Brian thought so too, for he added, very gently--though when did
he not speak gently?--

"There is nothing wrong. I only want to make some arrangements with you
for your future. Think a little about it before I speak to you."

And then he went out of the room, and Hugo was left to his meditations,
which were not of the most agreeable cha