stories about
Indian adventures, and that a short time before he went away, having
heard that he had been unmercifully beaten by the schoolmaster at
Reigate for some trifling fault, he had gone down to the town, and had
so battered the man that the school had to be closed for a fortnight.
They had always kept up a correspondence. When he received the news of
his father's death George had written to him, begging him to go down to
Reigate, and to manage the estate for him.

"Of course," he said, "you will draw its income as long as you are
there. I mayn't be back for another twenty years; one gets rich out here
fast, what with plunder and presents and one thing and another, and it
is no use to have money accumulating at home, so just live on the place
as if it were your own, until I come home to turn you out."

John had declined the offer.

"I am very well where I am," he wrote, "and the care of the estate would
be a horrible worry to me; besides, I have just married, and if I ever
have any children they would be brought up beyond their station. I
have done what I can for you. I have seen the family lawyers, who have
engaged a man who has been steward to Sir John Hieover, and looked after
the estate during his son's minority. But the young blade, on coming of
age, set to work to make ducks and drakes of the property, and Newman
could not bear to see the estate going to the Jews, so, as luck would
have it, he resigned a month ago, and has been appointed steward at
Reigate. Of course, if you don't like the arrangement you must write and
say so. It will be a year before I get your answer, and he has only been
engaged for certain for that time; it must lie with you as to permanent
arrangement."

So Newman had taken charge of the Reigate estate, and had continued
to manage it ever since, although George had written home in great
displeasure at his offer being refused.

Inside the Manor the bustle of preparations was going on; the spare
room, which had not been used for many years, was being turned out, and
a great fire lighted to air it. John Thorndyke had sent a letter by the
returning messenger to a friend in town, begging him to go at once to
Leadenhall Street and send down a supply of Indian condiments for his
brother's use, and had then betaken himself to the garden to think the
matter over. The next day a post chaise arrived, bringing the invalid
and his colored servant, whose complexion and Indian garb struck the