"Several days passed and we began to get anxious. My mother telegraphed the Head and the railway company. No good. Now it's all very well for well-meaning people to say tell the police,' but when you are up against a private disgrace, you think pretty hard before you walk into a police station. My brother was fifteen and big for his age. Why, he might disguise himself anyhow. The week-end came before we made up our minds that the police would have to be notified. I went to Scotland Yard on the Saturday afternoon with a reward and description. I don't pretend that I felt very anxious about him. He had never sought either my friendship or my protection, and we looked at life from totally different angles. To me there was something common and dirty about an intrigue with a school-slavey. My brother, I thought, should have been above that sort of thing. But he wasn't and he never has been. With him a woman is just a woman. He raises his hand and they come running, and apologizing if they're late. So after I had been to Scotland Yard, I stayed down West, went to a theatre and looked in at _El Vino_ for a glass of port afterwards. _El Vino_ in those days had a curious reputation, quite different from the Continental or the Leicester Lounge. No one would ever suggest you were a loose fish because you drank a dock-glass in _El Vino_, though there were women there every night. Just as I was lifting the glass some one gave me a slap on the back. It was my young brother. "'Hullo, Charley!' he says. 'Fancy _you_ here.' "'What are _you_ doing here?' I asked him. I realized he was as tall as I was. 'Why aren't you at home?' "'I'm coming home with you, Charley boy,' he says, looking round at the girls. 'All the old talent here, you see!' "I own frankly I was disgusted. I was so disgusted I never went into that place again. We got the 12.20 at King's Cross and it was a quarter past one in the morning before we arrived at our house. Here was a nice state of things; the elder son finding his fifteen-year-old brother in _El Vino_, and coming home with the milk. That was my brother's way all along. He made everything I do seem a black sin. I left him to tell his own story and turned in. "The next morning he went on the carpet. My mother gave him a pretty hot talking to. She told him he was a disgrace to the name of Carville, that he'd begun bad and would go to worse. She asked him how she was ever to get him into a position if he left school like that and for such a reason. He took out a cigarette-case and helped himself. 'No need to worry, mater,' says he, 'I've got a position already.' "And so he had! He'd gone into the city and got a position in a big wholesale house as a clerk. Ask me how he did it and all I can say is 'Personality.' He could do anything with anybody. There he was, fifteen, with a guinea a week to start. And I was twenty-two and only getting a few shillings more.