“Sit down, young man, sit down”, said the doctor, very pompously, and waiving further discussion. “I am not—I mean to say you are taller than when I first—ah, yes, manipulated you”. As the doctor warmed to his subject, he grew more and more professional, and perhaps less gentlemanly, until his good feelings came into play, for his heart, after all, was right. All the terms which he used shall not be repeated, because of their being so medical. Only this, that he said at last, after a long inspection— “Sir, this confirms to a nicety my metrostigmatic theory”. “Dr. Hutton, I know not what you mean, neither do I wish to know”. Cradock put on his neckerchief anyhow, and walked to his chair by the mantelpiece, although no fire was burning. The medical man said nothing, but gravely looked out of the window. Presently the young gentleman felt that he was not acting hospitably. “Excuse me, sir, if I have seemed rude; but you do not know how these things——I mean, when I think of my mother. Let me ring for some sherry and sandwiches; you have had no lunch”. “Ring for some brandy, my boy; and give me a cheroot. Fine property! Look at the sweep of the land—and to think of losing it all”! Instead of ringing, Cradock went and fetched the cognac himself, and took down a glass from a cupboard. “Two glasses, my dear boy, two”. “No, sir; I never touch it”. “Then take it now, for the first time. Here, let me feel your pulse”. “Once for all, I beg you to tell me what is all this mystery? Do you think I am a child”? “Fill your pipe again, while I light a cigar”. Cradock did as he was told, although with trembling hands. Rufus Hutton went for a wine–glass, filled it with brandy, and pushed it across, then gulped down half a tumblerful; but Cradock did not taste his. “Now, my boy, can you bear some very bad news indeed”? “Anything better than this suspense. I have heard some bad news lately, which has seasoned me for anything”. He referred to Amy Rosedew. “It is this. You are not your fatherʼs heir; you are only the younger son”. “Is that all”? “All! Isnʼt that enough? Good God! What more would you have?—you donʼt deserve brandy”. “My father will be glad, and so will Clayton, and—perhaps one other. But I donʼt mean to say that I am”. “I should rather fancy not. But you take it most philosophically”! Dr. Hutton gazed at the poor young fellow in surprise and admiration, trying vainly to make him out. Then he reached over to Cradockʼs elbow, took his glass of cognac, and swallowed it. “This has upset me, my boy, more than you. How miserable I felt about it! But perhaps you place no faith in the assertion I have made”? “Indeed, it has quite amazed me; and I have had no time to think of it. My head seems spinning round. Please to say no more just for a minute or two, unless you find it uncomfortable”. He leaned back in his chair, and tried to think, but could not.