be trusted to relieve Benjulia's suspense. With that purpose in view,
the doctor had written to Mrs. Gallilee.

Before he laid down his pen, he looked once more at Mr. Morphew's
letter, and paused thoughtfully over one line: "I am writing to your
brother Lemuel by this mail."

The information of which he was in search might be in _that_ letter.
If Mrs. Gallilee's correspondence with her son failed to enlighten him,
here was another chance of making the desired discovery. Surely the wise
course to take would be to write to Lemuel as well.

His one motive for hesitating was dislike of his younger
brother--dislike so inveterate that he even recoiled from communicating
with Lemuel through the post.

There had never been any sympathy between them; but indifference had
only matured into downright enmity, on the doctor's part, a year since.
Accident (the result of his own absence of mind, while he was perplexed
by an unsuccessful experiment) had placed Lemuel in possession of his
hideous secret. The one person in the world who knew how he was really
occupied in the laboratory, was his brother.

Here was the true motive of the bitterly contemptuous tone in which
Benjulia had spoken to Ovid of his nearest relation. Lemuel's character
was certainly deserving of severe judgment, in some of its aspects. In
his hours of employment (as clerk in the office of a London publisher)
he steadily and punctually performed the duties entrusted to him. In his
hours of freedom, his sensual instincts got the better of him; and his
jealous wife had her reasons for complaint. Among his friends, he was
the subject of a wide diversity of opinion. Some of them agreed with his
brother in thinking him little better than a fool. Others suspected
him of possessing natural abilities, but of being too lazy, perhaps too
cunning, to exert them. In the office he allowed himself to be called
"a mere machine"--and escaped the overwork which fell to the share of
quicker men. When his wife and her relations declared him to be a mere
animal, he never contradicted them--and so gained the reputation of a
person on whom reprimand was thrown away. Under the protection of this
unenviable character, he sometimes said severe things with an air
of perfect simplicity. When the furious doctor discovered him in the
laboratory, and said, "I'll be the death of you, if you tell any living
creature what I am doing!"--Lemuel answered, with a stare of stupid
astonishment, "Ma