s book and looked at her in some surprise.

"George Rattar? What do you know about him?"

"I see the announcement of his death. 'Son of the late John Simon
Rattar' he's called."

"That's Silent Simon's brother!" exclaimed Sir Reginald. "Where did he
die?"

"In New York, it says."

Sir Reginald turned to his wife.

"We can hardly send our sympathies to Simon on this bereavement!"

"No," she said significantly. "I suppose congratulations would be more
appropriate."

The baronet took the paper from Cicely and studied it himself.

"Died about a fortnight ago, I see," he observed. "I wonder whether
Simon put this announcement in himself, or whether brother George
arranged it in his will? It would be quite like the fellow to have this
posthumous wipe at Simon. George had a certain sense of humour--which
Simon lacks. And there was certainly no love lost between them!"

"Why should it annoy Mr. Rattar?" asked Cicely.

"Because brother George was not a member of his family he would care to
be reminded of. Though on the other hand, Simon is as hard as whinstone
and has as much sentiment as this teapot, and he may have put the notice
in himself simply to show the world he was rid of the fellow."

"What was George Rattar then?" enquired Cicely.

"He was once Simon Rattar's partner, wasn't he, Reginald?" said Lady
Cromarty. "And then he swindled him, didn't he?"

"Swindled several other people as well," said Sir Reginald, "myself
included. However, the thing was hushed up, and brother George
disappeared. Then he took to forgery on his own account and among other
people's signatures he imitated with remarkable success was Simon's.
This let old Simon in for it again and there was no hushing it up a
second time. Simon gave evidence against him without mercy, and since
then George has been his Majesty's guest for a number of years. So if
you meet Mr. Simon Rattar, Cicely, you'd better not tell him how sorry
you are to hear of poor George's decease!"

"I wish I could remember him more distinctly," said Lady Cromarty. "I'm
afraid I always mix him up with our friend Mr. Simon."

"It's little wonder," her husband replied. "They were twins. George was
the one with a moustache; one knew them apart by that. Extraordinary
thing, it has always seemed to me, that their natures should have been
so different."

"Perhaps," suggested Cicely compassionately, with her serious air, "it
was only that George was tempted."

Sir Regin