When Lord Chickney’s thoughts had once started in any direction it was difficult to turn them aside. No doubt that concealed and repudiated deafness helped his natural perplexity of mind. Truth comes to some of us as a still small voice, but Lord Chickney needed shouting and prods. And Douglas did not get to him until he was finishing lunch. Moreover, it was the weakness of Captain Douglas to talk in jerky fragments and undertones, rather than clearly and fully in the American fashion. “Tell me all about it, my boy,” said Lord Chickney. “Tell me all about it. Don’t apologize for your clothes. I understand. Motor bicycle and just come up. But have you had any lunch, Eric?” “Alan, uncle,—not Eric. My brother is Eric.” “Well, I called him Alan. Tell me all about it. Tell me what has happened. What are you thinking of doing? Just put the positions before me. To tell you the truth I’ve been worrying over this business for some time.” “Didn’t know you’d heard of it, uncle. He can’t have talked about it already. Anyhow,—you see all the awkwardness of the situation. They say the old chap’s a thundering spiteful old devil when he’s roused—and there’s no doubt he was roused.... Tremendously....” Lord Chickney was not listening very attentively. Indeed he was also talking. “Not clear to me there was another man in it,” he was saying. “That makes it more complicated, my boy, makes the row acuter. Old fellow, eh? Who?” They came to a pause at the same moment. “You speak so indistinctly,” complained Lord Chickney. “_Who_ did you say?” “I thought you understood. Lord Moggeridge.” “Lord—! Lord Moggeridge! My dear Boy! But how?” “I thought you understood, uncle.” “He doesn’t want to marry her! Tut! Never! Why, the man must be sixty if he’s a day....” Captain Douglas regarded his distinguished uncle for a moment with distressed eyes. Then he came nearer, raised his voice and spoke more deliberately. “I don’t know whether you quite understand, uncle. I am talking about this affair at Shonts last week-end.” “My dear boy, there’s no need for you to shout. If only you don’t mumble and clip your words—and turn head over heels with your ideas. Just tell me about it plainly. Who is Shonts? One of those Liberal peers? I seem to have heard the name....” “Shonts, uncle, is the house the Laxtons have; you know,—Lucy.” “Little Lucy! I remember her. Curls all down her back. Married the milkman. But how does _she_ come in, Alan? The story’s getting—complicated. But that’s the worst of these infernal affairs,—they always do get complicated. Tangled skeins— “‘Oh what a tangled web we weave, When first we venture to deceive.’ “And now, like a sensible man, you want to get out of it.” Captain Douglas was bright pink with the effort to control himself and keep perfectly plain and straightforward. His hair had become like tow and little beads of perspiration stood upon his forehead.