what I say. You may
make your mind quite easy on that score. I shall probably return to
India as soon as I am in funds. Except for the one reason I have named,
I don't want to see Maxfield again--I've had enough of it. Nor do I see
any advantage in meeting you, so I give no address. But any letters
addressed to the G.P.O. I shall receive.

"Your brother,--

"Roger Ingleton."

This letter dispelled any lingering doubt, or perhaps hope, in Roger's
mind that he was on a wrong scent. The writer, in protesting his
inability to give any proof of his identity, had mentioned the two very
circumstances which the old Squire had referred to in his posthumous
letter. He had admitted that he had gone to the bad in London in
company with a youth named Fastnet. The news of his death had reached
England from abroad. Besides, the reckless, devil-may-care tone of the
epistle more than ever convinced the younger brother that this was no
fraudulent claimant, but the honest growl of an outcast who little
guessed what his name was worth to him. Otherwise, why should he keep
out of the way?

Captain Oliphant came to his room while these reflections were occupying
his mind. He was too much preoccupied by the unpleasant contents of his
own letter to notice the trouble of his ward.

"Roger," said he, "business calls me away from town for a day or two. I
am sorry to interrupt our pleasant time together, but I hope it will not
be long. Make yourself comfortable here, and take care of yourself."

"Are you going to Maxfield?" inquired Roger.

"No. But an old comrade I find is in trouble and wants my advice. It
is a call I can hardly turn a deaf ear to."

Had Roger guessed that the friend on whom so much devotion was to be
expended was Mr Robert Ratman, he would have displayed a good deal more
curiosity than he did as to his guardian's business. As it was, he was
not sorry to be left thus to his own devices.

"You know your way to the club by this time," said the captain. "Make
yourself at home there--and keep out of mischief."

That evening Roger went somewhat nervously to his guardian's club.
Since last night he had grown to detest the place and the company. But
just now it was the one place where he might expect to hear something of
his lost brother.

His new friends greeted him boisterously--and, relieved of the restraint
of his guardian's presence, made more than usually merry in his honour.

They chaffed him a