Then it had got about already! Usk was literally unable to muster up the necessary courage to go and look at the paper, and as he quitted the House he felt guiltily that the members he met turned to look at him, and that the policemen who had the advantage of knowing him by sight were reaping a golden harvest for pointing him out to eager and ignorant questioners. He wanted to see what the ‘Chronograph’ said about him, and to know how it had gained its information, but it seemed much too barefaced a proceeding to walk into a shop and buy a copy. He would go home, and send his servant out to get one. But when he reached his lodgings he found that this was unnecessary. In the arm-chair in his sitting-room sat his father, with a copy of the delinquent journal in his hand. “Well, Usk,” said Lord Caerleon, “good morning. May I ask whether this is true?” and he held out the paper, which was folded in such a way as to exhibit the headlines to the best advantage. “I don’t know what they say there,” returned Usk, “but it’s true that Drakovics invited me last night to become King of Thracia. He said he came to England on purpose.” “Ah!” said Lord Caerleon, meditatively. “Seen Cyril this morning?” “No,” said Usk, surprised by the sudden question. “Well, I have, and I can tell you what he is doing now. He is going about with my authority contradicting this report, and talking big about libel actions against the ‘Daily Chronograph.’” “That strikes one as rather premature, doesn’t it?” said Usk, and his father knew by his tone that he was not pleased. “It has got that appearance,” he said quickly, “but these things spread so fast, and it had to be stopped before it brought you into trouble. Look here, Usk, I want you to give this thing up, and I’ll tell you my reasons.” “Yes, sir?” and Usk prepared himself to listen. “Well, the first is that I’m an old man, and I can’t do without you. My father’s elder brother, your great-uncle, went off to fight for Greece, as you know, and never came back. I can’t give you up for that sort of thing at my age. Is that enough for you, Usk?” “Certainly, if you put it in that way.” Lord Caerleon’s eyes glistened, but he went on gruffly enough. “My second reason is that you are not the man for it. Oh, I know that you would look the part all right, and do your utmost to make the thing a success, but there’s more worldly wisdom in Cyril’s little finger than in your whole body. If the fools had only thought of offering the crown to him, he would be at the head of a Balkan Confederacy in a month, but you---- The fact is, Usk, you are too English--you don’t know when you’re beaten. Instead of taking a licking quietly, you are up again as soon as you come to, and fighting with all the breath knocked out of you. As for Cyril, he will have made it up with the other chap after the first round, and started ahead to choose his own ground, ready for another fight when it’s necessary, and that time Cyril will win.”