"True, as far as I am concerned," replied French. "I do not know about you. But to go on. The boy has got a fiendish temper and, on slight provocation, he is into a fight like a demon."
"With you?" said Brown.
"Oh, come," said French, "you know better than that. No, he gets with those Galicians, and then there is a row. The other week, now—well—" French was finding it difficult to get on.
"I heard about it," said Brown; "they told me the boy was half drunk, and you more." Brown's tone was not encouraging.
"You've hit it, Brown, and that's the sort of thing that makes me anxious. The boy is getting into bad ways, and I thought you might take him in hand. I cannot help him much in these matters, and you can."
French's arguments had all deserted him.
"Look here," he said at length desperately, "here is a letter which I got a few days ago. I want you to read that last page. It will show you my difficulty. It is from my sister-in-law, and, of course, her position is quite preposterous; but you know a woman finds it difficult to understand some things in a man's life. You know what I mean, but read. I think you know who she is. It was she who sent Kalman out here to save him from going wrong. God save the mark!"
Brown took the letter and read it carefully, read it a second time, and then said simply:
"That seems straight enough. That woman sees her way through things. But what's the trouble?"
"Well, of course, it is quite absurd."