use to-night.
As for me, I am off to the post-office, and thence to the High Street
about the dead body. The police ought to know, you see, and they ought
to know through John; and I can tell them some rigmarole about my
brother being a man of a highly nervous organisation, and the rest of
it. And then; I'll tell you what, John--did you notice the name upon the
cab?"

John gave the name of the driver, which, as I have not been able to
commend the vehicle, I here suppress.

"Well," resumed Alexander, "I'll call round at their place before I come
back, and pay your shot for you. In that way, before breakfast-time,
you'll be as good as new."

John murmured inarticulate thanks. To see his brother thus energetic in
his service moved him beyond expression; if he could not utter what he
felt, he showed it legibly in his face; and Alexander read it there, and
liked it the better in that dumb delivery.

"But there's one thing," said the latter, "cablegrams are dear; and I
daresay you remember enough of the governor to guess the state of my
finances."

"The trouble is," said John, "that all my stamps are in that beastly
house."

"All your what?" asked Alexander.

"Stamps--money," explained John. "It's an American expression; I'm
afraid I contracted one or two."

"I have some," said Flora. "I have a pound-note upstairs."

"My dear Flora," returned Alexander, "a pound-note won't see us very
far; and besides, this is my father's business, and I shall be very much
surprised if it isn't my father who pays for it."

"I would not apply to him yet; I do not think that can be wise,"
objected Flora.

"You have a very imperfect idea of my resources, and none at all of my
effrontery," replied Alexander. "Please observe."

He put John from his way, chose a stout knife among the supper things,
and with surprising quickness broke into his father's drawer.

"There's nothing easier when you come to try," he observed, pocketing
the money.

"I wish you had not done that," said Flora. "You will never hear the
last of it."

"O, I don't know," returned the young man; "the governor is human, after
all. And now, John, let me see your famous pass-key. Get into bed, and
don't move for any one till I come back. They won't mind you not
answering when they knock; I generally don't myself."

CHAPTER IX

IN WHICH MR. NICHOLSON CONCEDES THE PRINCIPLE OF AN ALLOWANCE

In spite of the horrors of the day and the tea-drinking of the