een through. But your desertion of my mother and me was
a brutality. What you call your creed of life sounds to me hideous.
You and I are far apart, and so far as I am concerned, God grant that we
may remain so."

For the first time Lord Arranmore smiled. He poured out with steady
hand yet another glass of wine, and he nodded towards the door.

"I am obliged to you," he said, "for your candour. I have met with
enough hypocrisy in life to be able to appreciate it. Be so good as to
humour my whim--and to leave me alone."

Brooks rose from his seat, hesitated for a single moment, and left the
room. Lord Arranmore leaned back in his high-backed chair and looked
round at the empty places. The cigarette burned out between his
fingers, his wine remained untasted. The evening's entertainment was
over.

PART II

CHAPTER I

LORD ARRANMORE'S AMUSEMENTS

"The domestic virtues," Lord Arranmore said softly to himself, "being
denied to me, the question remains how to pass one's time."

He rose wearily from his seat, and walking to the window looked out upon
St. James's Square. A soft rain hung about the lamp-posts, the
pavements were thick with umbrellas. He returned to his chair with a
shrug of the shoulders.

"The only elucidation from outside seems to be a change of climate," he
mused. "I should prefer to think of something more original. In the
meantime I will write to that misguided young man in Medchester."

He drew paper and pen towards him and began to write. Even his
handwriting seemed a part of the man--cold, shapely, and deliberate.

"My DEAR BROOKS,

"I have been made acquainted through Mr. Ascough with your desire to
leave the new firm of Morrison and Brooks, and while I congratulate you
very much upon the fact itself, I regret equally the course of reasoning
which I presume led to your decision. You will probably have heard from
Mr. Ascough by this time on a matter of business. You are, by birth,
Lord Kingston of Ross, and the possessor of the Kingston income, which
amounts to a little over two thousand a year. Please remember that
this comes to you not through any grace or favour of mine, but by your
own unalienable right as the eldest son of the Marquis of Arranmore.
I cannot give it to you. I cannot withhold it from you. If you refuse
to take it the amount must accumulate for your heirs, or in due time
find its way to the Crown. Leave the tithe alone by all means, if you
like, but do not carry qu