He had read all sorts of things in the Sunday papers and
elsewhere about the constant strain to which captains of industry are
subjected, a strain which sooner or later is only too apt to make
the victim go all blooey, and it seemed to him that Mr. Brewster
was beginning to find the going a trifle too tough for his stamina.
Undeniably he was behaving in an odd manner, and Archie, though
no physician, was aware that, when the American business-man, that
restless, ever-active human machine, starts behaving in an odd manner,
the next thing you know is that two strong men, one attached to each
arm, are hurrying him into the cab bound for Bloomingdale.

He did not confide his misgivings to Lucille, not wishing to cause her
anxiety. He hunted up Reggie van Tuyl at the club, and sought advice
from him.

"I say, Reggie, old thing--present company excepted--have there been any
loonies in your family?"

Reggie stirred in the slumber which always gripped him in the early
afternoon.

"Loonies?" he mumbled, sleepily. "Rather! My uncle Edgar thought he was
twins."

"Twins, eh?"

"Yes. Silly idea! I mean, you'd have thought one of my uncle Edgar would
have been enough for any man."

"How did the thing start?" asked Archie.

"Start? Well, the first thing we noticed was when he began wanting two
of everything. Had to set two places for him at dinner and so on. Always
wanted two seats at the theatre. Ran into money, I can tell you."

"He didn't behave rummily up till then? I mean to say, wasn't sort of
jumpy and all that?"

"Not that I remember. Why?"

Archie's tone became grave.

"Well, I'll tell you, old man, though I don't want it to go any farther,
that I'm a bit worried about my jolly old father-in-law. I believe he's
about to go in off the deep-end. I think he's cracking under the strain.
Dashed weird his behaviour has been the last few days."

"Such as?" murmured Mr. van Tuyl.

"Well, the other morning I happened to be in his suite--incidentally he
wouldn't go above ten dollars, and I wanted twenty-five-and he suddenly
picked up a whacking big paper-weight and bunged it for all he was
worth."

"At you?"

"Not at me. That was the rummy part of it. At a mosquito on the wall, he
said. Well, I mean to say, do chappies bung paper-weights at mosquitoes?
I mean, is it done?"

"Smash anything?"

"Curiously enough, no. But he only just missed a rather decent picture
which Lucille had given him for his birthday. An