ietly, looking straight into the
Captain's eyes.

"That's for me to decide, Doctor."

"Tut, tut! it was decided the moment you were born."

"I think," Mr. Finch interposed, "it is time I gave Captain Runacles
some necessary information about the boy's inheritance."

It was close upon four o'clock when the little blue door which, until
that morning, had remained shut for over four years was opened a
second time and Captain Runacles stepped through into Captain
Barker's domain. His wig was carefully brushed and he carried a
gold-headed cane. Whatever emotion he may have felt was concealed by
the upright carriage and solemn pace proper to a visit of state.

Captain Barker, who stood at the lower end of the garden and stooped
over his beloved tulips, started at the sound of footsteps, looked
round, and hastily plucking his wig from the handle of a spade that
stood upright in the mould by his elbow, arranged it upon his bald
scalp and awaited the other's advance.

The pair did not shake hands.

"I have come to speak with you about--er--Tristram." The name stuck
in Captain Jeremy's throat.

"The boy strayed into your premises to-day. I know it. If you are
aggrieved by such a trifle--"

"I am not. If you doubt the sufficiency of my excuse for calling
upon you, let me say at once that I come as the boy's guardian."

"Upon my word--"

"As his legal guardian."

"Bah! This is too much! Do you conceive yourself to be jesting?"

"Have you ever known me to jest?"

"Not wilfully."

"Not, at any rate, upon parchment. Be so good as to run your eye
over this."

The little man took the copy of Silvanus Tellworthy's will and
fumbled it between his fingers.

"Is this some dirty trick of lawyer's work?"

"It is."

"Do you really wish me to read it?"

"Unless you prefer me to explain."

"I do--vastly."

"Very well, then."

And Captain Runacles proceeded to explain the will in a hard,
methodical voice, nodding his head whenever he reached a point of
importance at the parchment which rustled between Captain Barker's
fingers. For a while this rustle sounded like the whisper of a
gathering storm.

"It follows from this," concluded Captain Runacles, "that I am
responsible for the child's upbringing. Can you carry the reasoning
a step farther?"

The little man looked up. The wrath had clean died out of his
puckered face; and in place of it there showed a blank despair,
mingled with loathing and unspe