What harm had I done Mr. Marx, and why should he seek to injure me? It seemed improbable, almost ridiculous. So in the end a certain sense of fairness induced me to respect his postscript, and I said nothing to Mr. Ravenor about his secretary’s warning.

My interview with him was a very short one indeed. He led the way into the study in which I had first seen him and, closing the door, turned round and faced me upon the hearthrug. The room was dimly lit, but where he stood the fast-dying fire cast a faint glow around his tall, straight figure, and showed me a face cold and resolute as marble, but not unkind.

“Philip Morton,” he said slowly, “it has occurred to me that in wishing you to go to Lincolnshire, I may have been influenced to a certain extent by selfish considerations. If you have the slightest preference for a public school——”

I knew instinctively whence that idea had come and I interrupted him.

“Nothing should induce me to go anywhere else but to Dr. Randall’s!” I exclaimed firmly.

“In that case,” he continued, “I wish you to leave tomorrow. You will be ready?”

I assented at once.

“I, too, am leaving here—it may be for a very long while,” he went on. “In two months’ time I hope to start for Persia, and between now and then my movements will be uncertain. I cannot settle down here. It is useless.”

A great weariness shone out of his dark blue eyes and he stifled a sigh. Some thought or memory coloured with regret had flashed across his mind; but what it was I could not tell.

“You remember your mother’s letter to you and her dying request?” he continued, in a changed tone. “I cannot explain it now, although I must remind you of it. This packet”—and he passed me a large, sealed envelope—“contains a chequebook, the address of the lawyer who will manage your affairs, and a letter which you will not open unless you have certain news and proof of my death. You will find that you are, comparatively speaking, rich. How this comes about I cannot tell you now, and you must remember your mother’s dying injunction not to seek to find out until the time comes, when you will know everything. At present, I can only assure you that the money is yours by right, that it is not a gift, and that no one else has any claim to it. That is all I can say upon the subject. Are you satisfied?”