"Well, apparently Johnnie is a bit close. Most of these successful writers are, of course," said number one with the nod of an expert.
"Of course," agreed his companion, with an air of equally profound comprehension.
"And took advantage of his position as the fellow with money to lord it over the rest of his family. There's another brother—an awful clever beggar—James, I think his name is—a real first-class scientist, original research man and all that, who's spent the whole of his fortune on some great discovery or other. Well, will you believe it, but the other day when he was absolutely starving, Johnnie Touchwood offered to lend him some trifling sum if he would break the entail."
"I didn't know the Touchwoods were landed proprietors. I always understood the father was a dentist," said number two.
"Oh, no, no. Very old family. Wonderful old house down in Devonshire or Dorset—I wish I could remember just where it is. Anyway, it seems that the eldest brother clung on to this like anything. Of course, he would."
"Of course," number two agreed.
"But Johnnie, who's hard as flint, insisted on breaking the entail in his own favor, and now I hear he's practically turned the whole family into the street, including James' boy, who in the ordinary course of events would have inherited."
"Did Eleanor Cartright tell your friend this?" asked number two.
"Oh no, I've heard that from lots of people. It seems that old Mrs. Touchwood died of grief over the way Johnnie carried on. It's really a very grim story when you hear the details; unfortunately, I can't remember all of them. My memory's getting awfully bad nowadays."
Number two muttered an expression of sympathy, and the other continued: