tone. "You shall have your money
if you'll be quiet and come away with me. Come to my house and I'll
explain things to you. You've not seen Rosalind for a long time, have
you? Come in and talk things over."

"Oh, you want to trap me, do you?" said Francis, sullenly. "No, I'll not
come to your house. Go in and fetch the money out to me, or I'll make
you repent it."

Oliver was almost at his wit's end.

"All right," he said, soothingly. "I will fetch it. I can give you a
cheque, you know. But don't you want a little loose change to go on
with? Take these."

He held out a handful of gold and silver. Francis looked at it with
covetous eyes for a minute or two, then thrust his brother's hand aside
with a jerk which almost sent the coins into the road.

"I want justice, not charity," he said. "I want the money you promised
me."

Oliver shrugged his shoulders, and slowly returned the money to his
pocket.

"I am more than ever convinced that you are either mad or drunk, my
boy," he said. "You should never refuse ten pounds when you can get it,
and it's not a thing that I should fancy you have often done before.
However, as you choose."

He walked onward, and Francis walked, heavily and unsteadily, at his
side, muttering to himself as he went. Oliver glanced curiously at him
from time to time.

"I wonder what _has_ happened to him," he said to himself. "It's not
safe to question, but I _should_ like to know. Is it drink? or is it
brain disease? One thing or the other it must be. He does not look as if
he would live to spend the two thousand pounds--if ever he gets it. I
wonder if I could contrive to stave off the payment----"

And then he fell into a gloomy calculation of ways and means,
possibilities and chances, which lasted until the house in Russell
Square was reached. Here the brothers paused, and Oliver looked keenly
into his companion's face, noting that a somewhat remarkable change had
passed over it. Instead of being flushed and swollen, as if from
drinking, it had become very pale. His eyes seemed on the point of
closing, and he wavered unsteadily in his walk. Oliver had to put out
his hand to save him from falling, and to help him to the steps, where
he collapsed into a sitting posture, with his head against the railings.
He seemed to be stupefied, if not asleep.

"Dead drunk," said Oliver to himself. "The danger's over for to-night,
at any rate. Now, what shall I do with him? I can't get him into the