of a wretch, hounded to death, who escaped his pursuers after
all, and preferred to die by his own hand rather than that of his
brother. Good-bye till then.

"Your brother,--

"Roger Ingleton.

"_P.S_.--The Post Office know me, or my messenger, as `Richard
Redfern.' No doubt you will show this letter to your tutor, who
should have no difficulty in using the information I am obliged to
give as to my whereabouts to run me down."

The flush on Roger's face had died down into pallor by the time he
reached the end of this savage yet dismal letter. Till he came to the
postscript he had reckoned on demanding Armstrong's advice as to its
contents. Now, somehow, his hands seemed tied. Here was a man,
claiming to be his brother, practically placing his life in his hands.
Whether the story were true or false, the writer had calculated astutely
on the quixotic temper of his correspondent. The appeal, insultingly as
it was made, was one which Roger Ingleton, minor, could not resist.

"I have had a letter from Ratman," said he when the two friends were
alone together.

"I am not surprised," said the tutor. "He wants money, of course?"

"I can't show you the letter, simply because it contains a vague clue as
to his whereabouts, which you would feel bound to follow up."

"I undoubtedly should," said Mr Armstrong. "Shall not you?"

"No. He gives it in confidence, in the hope I shall send him money. I
don't intend to do that, but it would hardly be fair to use this letter
against him."

"He is Captain Oliphant's murderer."

"He denies it, and once more calls himself my brother."

The tutor shrugged his shoulders.

"As you please. Burn the letter. It probably does not tell more than
the police know already."

Roger dismally obeyed. Had he felt sure that this man was his brother,
he would have, at all risk and in spite of all, tried to help him. Even
so, to help him with one hand would mean to ruin him with the other. If
he found him, it would be to hand him over to the police. If he
procured his escape, it would be to oust him irrevocably from his
inheritance.

There seemed nothing for it but to do nothing and wait.

In other quarters the policy of inaction found little favour. Mr
Headland called up the same evening at Maxfield and demanded an
interview with the tutor.

"Wal, young man," said he, "I calculate those two hundred-pound notes of
mine didn't travel so far astray after all.