and his bigger trouble
that put him in gaol were very much on a par. He always had an
unconventional way of getting what he wanted. It was no use talking to
him; he simply doesn't see what you mean. I--I wonder what he's going to
do next."

"He might pay a visit over here," I said tentatively. Mr. Carville gave
me a quick glance.

"I shouldn't like that at all," he said, shaking his head. "You see ...
I might be away ... I shouldn't like it at all."

He was obviously disturbed, and I felt that the suggestion had been
unwise. Obviously it would not do to tell him that his brother knew
where he was.

"So far," he remarked presently, "my little boys don't know anything
about their uncle. I've no wish that they should. I want them to grow up
in this country without any connection with Europe at all. Any debt they
owe to Europe can be paid later. My brother couldn't help them at all.
And Rosa----"

Mr. Carville stood up to go. The cover for _Payne's Monthly_ caught his
eye and he nodded approvingly.

"That's clever," he said. "I wish sometimes I'd gone in for doing
things, like you. As you said, a man's mind rusts, gets seized, if it
isn't working. I did think of doing something with a few papers I've got
in my berth on the _Raritan_, but--I don't know."

"Why not let me have a look at them?" I said. "I might act as a sort of
an agent for you, unpaid of course----"

"Much obliged," said Mr. Carville placidly, "but I don't know as you
need bother. I threw a book over the side once."

"A manuscript!" I said, aghast. He nodded, looking at his boots. "I
thought a lot of it once; called it _Dreams on a Sea-Weed Bed_, and got
a funny faced little girl in Nagasaki to type it for me. But one voyage,
when I'd been reading a book called _New Grub Street_, I got sick of the
whole thing and dumped it in the Java Sea, half way between Sourabaja
and Singapore."

"I can't approve of that, Mr. Carville," I said, standing up and
confronting him. "A foolish thing to do!"

"How's that? It might just as well be twenty fathoms deep in the Java
Sea as twenty volumes deep in the British Museum? Eh! It was mine."

"Oh yes, yes; but it's hardly fair to deprive the world of it."

"Humph! I guess the world won't sweat, sir. It would be a good thing if
a lot of modern stuff was dumped. Some of the authors too, by your
leave!"

"I quite agree," I said. We had been to see Brieux' _Damaged Goods_ in
New York a week or so before, and we