have just arrived. There was one for you, I
think."

He handed it to me, and I tore it open as I stepped on to the
pavement. It was written from Feltham Court, Norfolk, and dated the
previous day.

My Dear Austen,

I send you a hurried line in case you should be thinking of coming
down here. I have decided to come up to London for a few weeks,
and have lent the Court to Lady Mary, with the exception of the
shooting, which is reserved for you. If you are in town, do look
me up at Claridge's.

Ever yours,

Ralph.

I was on the point of having the cab unloaded and reconsidering my
plans. Suddenly, however, like an inspiration there flashed into my
mind the thought that it would not, perhaps, be such a very bad thing
if, under the circumstances, I kept my altered plans to myself. So I
stuffed the letter into my pocket and stepped into the four-wheeler.

"You understand, Ashley?" I said. "Send everything on to Feltham
Court,--cards, letters, or anything."

"Perfectly, sir," the man answered. "I hope you will have a pleasant
time, sir."

"Tell the cabman Liverpool Street," I ordered, and got in.

We rolled out of the courtyard, and I drove all the way to Liverpool
Street as though to catch my train. Arrived there, however, I
deposited my luggage in the cloak-room and drove back to Claridge's in
a hansom. I found that my brother was installed in a suite of rooms
there, and his servant, who came into the sitting-room to me at once,
told me that he believed they were up for at least a month.

"His Lordship has nearly finished dressing, sir," he added. "He will
be in, in a few minutes."

I took up the morning paper, but found nothing of interest there. Then
my brother came in, leaning heavily on two sticks, and moving
slowly. He was not more than ten years older than I was, but the shock
of his accident and subsequent sufferings had aged him terribly. His
hair had gone prematurely gray, and his face was deeply lined. I
stepped forward and took him by the hand.

"My dear Ralph," I said, "this is really first-class. The last time I
saw you, you scarcely expected to be out of your bath-chair in six
months."

"I am getting on, Austen," he answered, "thanks! I am getting on. I
will sit in that easy-chair for a few minutes. Thanks! Then we will
have some breakfast."

"I was starting for Feltham this morning," I told him, "when I got
your letter."

"When did you get back from Pari