s anything, and that's a big mistake. It makes
life hard sometimes. I suppose I'm getting a bit old, and I feel things.
The doctor says I must be careful."

Jimmy glanced at him keenly; although his mind was full of his own
troubles, it had struck him that Joseph looked far from well. "Is there
anything special the matter?" he asked.

Joseph nodded. "Heart," he answered briefly. "Well, I'm glad I've seen
you. Don't say anything about it to Ida. I think I'll go up now, I'm
feeling a little tired. Good night, Jimmy. Give her a chance to go
straight, and then try to forget her."

It was the following afternoon, when Jimmy got back to the club after
having seen Lalage off at the station, that he found a note from May
awaiting him.

"You will be shocked to hear," May wrote, "that Joseph was discovered
dead in bed this morning. The doctor says it was heart disease. I need
hardly say that Ida is terribly upset."

Two or three days later, Jimmy learnt that his brother-in-law had left
him a thousand pounds.

CHAPTER XXIII

Dr. Gregg pulled up his trap and hailed the man who was stalking along
on the other side of the road.

"Are you going my way, Grierson? Can I give you a lift? Right. Whoa,
mare, stand still. It's some time since I saw you, Grierson. Been away?"

Jimmy, who was already climbing into the dog-cart, did not answer until
the question was repeated, then, "Yes," he said rather unwillingly.
"I've been over to Paris for two or three days."

The doctor drew his ragged-looking grey eyebrows down until they formed
almost a straight line. "The old game," he growled.

The young man was staring away over the hedge at the sweep of country
beyond, and replied without looking round. "Yes, as you say, the old
game--the inevitable game, if you like that better. The only difference
being that it was liqueur brandy this time instead of whisky."

"Silly fool." The doctor was not noted for his gentle speech. "Silly
fool, you know what I told you, that it means death in your case, with
perhaps a spell of lunacy first--that is, if you're not really a lunatic
already. You had better get some other medical man to attend you next
time." He slashed at an overhanging bough with his frayed old whip, and
apparently the action relieved him, for he went on in a very different
voice, "How's the book getting on? Is it published yet?"

"It's coming out next week," Jimmy answered. "I got an advance copy
to-day. They've bound