“_To L. Pym, The Pinewood_, “_Near F——, Surrey_. “_Am detained by important business. Will return as soon as possible. Keep all letters, and do not see visitors._ _Roderick Pym._” “To his wife, presumably,” thought Hugh, as he left his patient to the day nurse, who was fresh from her night’s rest; and as he thought this he sneered: “Younger than her lord and master; very much under his thumb, too, evidently. Married him for his money, of course! The original of the portrait in the locket, doubtless. Fancy the jealous prudence of the old fox! Wouldn’t write ‘Lady Pym,’ only put ‘L.’ I wondered why he hesitated so long before yielding up the name. Poor old fellow! A young wife, with that mischievous face! Why didn’t the housekeeper mention her?” Hugh went about his day’s work strangely dissatisfied, and had never felt more annoyed with anyone in his life than with the Sister of the accident ward when she told Dr. Fairlight that he had kindly remained all night by Sir Roderick’s bedside. CHAPTER II. AN INITIAL LETTER. Sir Roderick decidedly improved on acquaintance. During the next two days his health promised to return. He declined the offer of a private ward. “I like to watch what goes on,” he said to Hugh. “Of course there is a good deal to see that is painful. But I may not have such an opportunity of realising certain conditions of human nature again.” Then he descanted upon the different cases, upon the various characteristics of the maimed and injured men who were either inmates, or who were brought in, upon the method and patient quietude of the nurses, &c. “You are a practised observer,” said Hugh. Upon which they began a conversation that partially showed Hugh there was a bond of sympathy between them. Both were dissatisfied with life generally, and with certain matters particularly. Both were prompted to study deeply, and ponder much on the great problems which have puzzled philosophers from Thales to Schopenhauer; and although Sir Roderick was a materialist and pessimist, and Hugh had taken refuge in a high ideal optimism which was to a certain extent original, they met on the common ground of mental disquietude. Seen thus, Sir Roderick seemed another man. Weak though he still was, his eyes sparkled, his face was brightened by an almost youthful animation. Hugh was about to end the interview, fearing overfatigue for his patient, when Sir Roderick stopped short. His countenance changed. His brother, Mr. Edmund Pym, came into the ward with the secretary of the hospital. Edmund Pym was a short, wizened little man, with pinched features and blinking eyes, scant white hair and smooth shaven face. Greater opposites in personal appearance than these two brothers could hardly be.