"Well, it's my uncle."
"You've lost?"
"Yes; and he's got his pockets full of hundred-pound bank-notes—and he's no more fit to be trusted with them than a child."
"What a delightful uncle!"
"Don't laugh; it's serious."
"He's not mad, is he?"
"No, that's the worst of it. He's got one of these beastly new diseases—I don't know what it is, but as far as I can make out it's as if he'd got young again without remembering what he is."
"How interesting!"
"Yes, you would find him very interesting if you had anything to do with him; but, seriously, something has to be done. There's the family name and there's his business." He explained the case of Simon as well as he could.