sehold. The youngest boy let himself go
to such an extent during his next term that it had to be his last as far
as that particular establishment was concerned. The elder boys
propounded a theory that their mother might be wandering somewhere
abroad, and searched for her assiduously, chiefly, it must be admitted,
in a class of Montmartre resort where it was extremely improbable that
she would be found."

"And all this while couldn't your uncle get hold of the least clue?"

"As a matter of fact he had received some information, though of course I
did not know of it at the time. He got a message one day telling him
that his wife had been kidnapped and smuggled out of the country; she was
said to be hidden away, in one of the islands off the coast of Norway I
think it was, in comfortable surroundings and well cared for. And with
the information came a demand for money; a lump sum of 2000 pounds was to
be paid yearly. Failing this she would be immediately restored to her
family."

The Journalist was silent for a moment, and them began to laugh quietly.

"It was certainly an inverted form of holding to ransom," he said.

"If you had known my aunt," said the Wine Merchant, "you would have
wondered that they didn't put the figure higher."

"I realise the temptation. Did your uncle succumb to it?"

"Well, you see, he had to think of others as well as himself. For the
family to have gone back into the Crispina thraldom after having tasted
the delights of liberty would have been a tragedy, and there were even
wider considerations to be taken into account. Since his bereavement he
had unconsciously taken up a far bolder and more initiatory line in
public affairs, and his popularity and influence had increased
correspondingly. From being merely a strong man in the political world
he began to be spoken of as _the_ strong man. All this he knew would be
jeopardised if he once more dropped into the social position of the
husband of Mrs. Umberleigh. He was a rich man, and the 2000 pounds a
year, though not exactly a fleabite, did not seem an extravagant price to
pay for the boarding-out of Crispina. Of course, he had severe qualms of
conscience about the arrangement. Later on, when he took me into his
confidence, he told me that in paying the ransom, or hush-money as I
should have called it, he was partly influenced by the fear that if he
refused it the kidnappers might have vented their rage and disappointment
on th