y his ward a visit.

"Well, my boy, how are you? Better, I hope."

"Oh, yes," said Roger, coughing; "it's only a cold in my head. I'll
soon be all right. I'm awfully sorry to desert the girls and Tom, tell
them."

"Nothing I can do for you, is there?"

"Thanks very much. I'm all right. I shall get to sleep pretty soon.
Good night, Cousin Edward."

"Good night, dear boy. Another time you must take better care of
yourself. Remember your life is precious to us all."

With these affectionate words Captain Oliphant left the room, candle in
hand. As he passed his daughter's boudoir he looked in. It was empty.
The young ladies had long since taken refuge in their bedroom. All the
house, in fact, except Captain Oliphant, had done the same.

That gentleman, as he passed another door which stood half open, could
not resist a friendly impulse to peep in. It was a snug room, with a
piano in one corner, and foils, boxing gloves, Oxford prints, and other
tokens of a bachelor proprietorship displayed on the walls. The table
was littered with classical exercises, music scores, and letters. A
college boating-jacket hung behind the door, and one or two prize-
goblets decorated the mantelpiece.

Captain Oliphant displayed a genial interest in everything. He read the
inscriptions on the goblets, glanced casually through the papers, read
the addresses on a few of the letters, and generally took stock of the
apartment. Of course, like an honourable gentleman, he disturbed
nothing, and presently, distressed by a sudden fit of coughing from the
direction of his ward's room, he hastily stepped out into the lobby
again and made his way back to the library.

Before he went to bed this methodical person committed three several
matters to paper. In his memorandum-book he wrote the name of a certain
college at Oxford, and a date, corresponding, oddly enough, to the name
and date on one of the goblets in Mr Armstrong's room.

That done, he scrawled a post card to Dr Brandram, requesting him to
call and see Roger, whose cough was still a little troublesome.

After that, he pulled out of his pocket and read with a somewhat pained
expression a letter he had received the day before by the Indian mail.
It was gather long, but the passage which pained Captain Oliphant
particularly ran thus:--

"The trouble about the mess accounts is not blown over yet. I have
done what I can for you. I hope you will make it unnecessary f