to them, and that they
were often up at Fettercairn." Some such words Cedric would say when he
saw his sisters.

What a blessing term had begun and he was back at Oxford! He was safe
from the Jacobis there. They would be in town probably; and then the
fancy came into his head that he would find that out for himself before
he went home. His evening hours always hung heavily on his hands, and a
walk more or less would not hurt him, That was the best of living with
Bohemians. No one questioned his movements, or took it amiss if he were
an hour or two late for meals.

He knew where the Jacobis lived--Cedric had told him--at 12 Gresham
Gardens; so he went on to Queen's Road by train.

It was quite dark by that time, but he would just pass by the house and
see if it were lighted up. His curiosity to know if they were there
rather surprised himself. When he came in sight of No. 12 the door
opened, and, unwilling to be seen, he stole into the portico of the
next house, which was dark and uninhabited, and waited there for a
moment.

He could hear Saul Jacobi's voice distinctly, smooth and unctuous as
usual, and Leah's deep, flute-like tones chiming in. Somebody, a young
man he guessed, was answering her. "You will not be late on Monday. I
always like to be in good time for a new piece."

"That is so like a woman," interrupted her brother in a jeering voice.
"Don't attend to her, old fellow; we have seats in the stalls, and you
can please yourself."

"You bet, I always do that!" was the answer, in a slightly nasal tone.
"Ta-ta, Jacobi;" and then a muscular, active-looking young man ran down
the steps. Malcolm had just a glimpse of a lean brown face and
deeply-set eyes, and then the door closed.

"Another string to the Jacobi bow," he thought as he followed him
slowly. "I wonder how many he has." And then, as he walked back to the
station, he made up his mind that as soon as possible he would run down
to Oxford and have a talk with Cedric. "I think I could manage it on
Friday or Saturday," he thought. "I should soon find out for myself if
those people have done him any mischief."

Malcolm felt his conscience easier when he had planned this. Mrs.
Godfrey had really made him very anxious about the boy. That evening he
was less self-centred; the conversation had roused him; it gave him a
dreary sort of satisfaction to know that there was still something that
he could do for her.

He ate his supper with something of his o