Frank reflected.
"I think it's in that tobacco-jar just behind your head," he said. "No, it isn't; it's in the pouch on the floor. I know I associated it somehow with smoking. And, by the way, give me a cigarette."
Jack tossed him his case, opened the pouch, took out the letter, and read it slowly through again.
"Merefield Court,
"near Harrogate.
"May 28th, Thursday.
"I am ashamed of you, sir. When you first told me of your intention, I warned you what would happen if you persisted, and I repeat it now. Since you have deliberately chosen, in spite of all that I have said, to go your own way, and to become a Papist, I will have no more to do with you. From this moment you cease to be my son. You shall not, while I live, darken my doors again, or sleep under my roof. I say nothing of what you have had from me in the past—your education and all the rest. And, since I do not wish to be unduly hard upon you, you can keep the remainder of your allowance up to July and the furniture of your rooms. But, after that, not one penny shall you have from me. You can go to your priests and get them to support you.
"I am only thankful that your poor mother has been spared this blow.
"T."
Jack made a small murmurous sound as he finished. Frank chuckled aloud.
"Pitches it in all right, doesn't he?" he observed dispassionately.
"If it had been my governor—" began Jack slowly.