"My dear Rupert," it began, "a horrible thing has happened, and I shall
be off to-night. I have learned that I am not your brother at all, but
that I was fraudulently put in that position. I have been writing this
afternoon to father and mother. Oh! Rupert, to think that it is the last
time I can call them so. They will tell you the whole business. I am
writing this by the light of the lamp in the passage, and you will all
be up in a few minutes, so I have no time to say more. I shall post the
other letter to-night. Good-bye, Rupert! Good-bye, dear old fellow! We
have been happy together, haven't we? and I hope you will always be so.
Perhaps some day when I have made myself a name--for I have no right to
call myself Clinton, and I won't call myself by my real name--I may see
you again. I have taken the note, but I know that you won't grudge it
me."

Rupert read the letter through two or three times, then ran down as he
was, in his night-shirt and trousers, and passed in to the master's part
of the private house. "Robert," he said to the man-servant whom he met
in the passage, "is Mr. River-Smith dressed yet?"

"He is not finished dressing yet, Master Clinton; at least he has not
come out of his room. But I expect he is pretty near dressed."

"Will you ask him to come out to me at once, please?" Rupert said. "It
is a most serious business, or you may be sure I should not ask."

The man asked no questions, for he saw by Rupert's face that this must
be something quite out of the ordinary way. "Just step into this room
and I will fetch him," he said.

In a minute the master came in. "What is it, Clinton,--nothing serious
the matter, I hope?"

"Yes, sir, I am afraid it is something very serious. My brother was not
well yesterday evening. He said that he had a frightful headache, but he
thought it would be all right in the morning, and he went and lay down
on his bed. I thought that he was strange in his manner when I went in
to say good-night to him; and when I went in this morning, sir, the bed
hadn't been slept in and he was gone, and he has left me this note, and
it is evident, as you will see, that he is altogether off his head. You
see, he fancies that he is not my brother."

The master had listened with the gravest concern, and now glanced
hastily through the letter.

"'Tis strange indeed," he said. "There is no possibility, of course,
that there is anything in this idea of his?"

"No, sir, of course not. Ho