‘Something to do with it,’ repeated Arthur, in a distressed tone of voice. ‘Oh, Henry! how can you say such a thing! But you felt it deeply, I am sure. Anyone could see that from your altered appearance. But, my dear brother, there is such a thing, you know, as giving way too much to our feelings. You have lost two of your dearest friends, but you have your wife and children left. You must think of them, Henry, and also a little of me, of whom you are the last surviving relative. For all our sakes, dear old chap, try and rouse yourself from this morbid condition. A little amusement and gaiety will do you good. Hannah should have urged you to go out again before this. But, now that I have come home, I mean to persuade you to it, for my own sake as well as yours. Will you?’
‘Of course I will,’ replied Henry, sitting upright in his chair, and trying to look as if there were nothing the matter with him; ‘we will go out together, Arthur, and have some larks as we used to do. I’m as fit as a fiddle. It’s only Hannah who will have it I’m ill. Women are such coddles. But, now you are come, it will be all right. Let’s make a night of it. Where shall we go? Tivoli first, and a little supper at Gatti’s afterwards. Will that suit you, Artie? By Jove! the very sight of you has done me good.’
‘I’d rather go to the theatre to-night, Henry. I shouldn’t like to leave my little woman at home by herself, the first evening she spends in England. We will do the music-halls afterwards. What do you say to this? Come straight to Haxells’ from the office, and dine with us. I will wire for Hannah to join us, and we’ll make a party to the Lyceum in the evening. I can go now and secure a box. Will you do it, Henry? Do say yes!’
‘Of course I’ll do it, Arthur. What has my wife been telling you—that I’m not able to go to theatres and places of that sort? It’s lies, I tell you—all lies. I’m as fit as they’re made. All right, Bloxam. I’ll attend to you in a minute.’
‘I’d better go now, Henry, and leave you to your work,’ said Captain Hindes, with a perplexed face, ‘you’ll get on better without me. Don’t forget. Haxells’ at five, and we’ll dine there, and spend the evening at the theatre. And I’ll telegraph to your wife at once that she may make no engagement for to-night. Good-bye for the present, dear old fellow. I’m awfully glad to have met you again Hal. Good-bye till this evening.’
But though he had said he was awfully glad, Captain Hindes looked awfully sad as he took his way back to the hotel to tell his wife of his interview with his brother. He fulfilled his engagements, secured a box at the theatre, sent Hannah an invitation by wire, and ordered a good dinner to be ready for the party at six.
But Hannah came, and the dinner came, yet there was no appearance of Henry Hindes. After some delay, Arthur volunteered to go back to the City and see if he had yet left the office. On reaching it, he was told that the ‘governor’ had been gone some time, and the clerk, who carried his papers to the hansom, had heard him distinctly give the order to drive to Hampstead, so the only thing his brother could do, was to jump into another hansom and follow him there. He expected to find Henry had mistaken the time of meeting, or had returned home to dress for the theatre, which, he had told him, was unnecessary. The man who opened the door of The Old Hall looked so surprised to see him, that Arthur’s first inquiry was,—
‘Has not your master returned?’
‘Yes, sir, he has been home the best part of an hour.’
‘Where is he?’