By twelve o’clock he had not put in an appearance, and I concluded that he had forgotten me. I waited till one, and was just about to ask for my bill and ride away when he appeared. He gave me a swift glance as if to satisfy himself that the favourable opinion he had formed of me the evening before was correct. Apparently the verdict was favourable, for he insisted on my going with him. I pleaded my attire; but he would hear of no excuse. “Well, perhaps you ought to know who I am.” “You’re not a criminal, I suppose?” “Not exactly, but I’m a cousin of yours.” He looked at me blankly. “A cousin?” “Yes, we had a mutual great-great-grandfather—George Gascoyne. My name is Israel Gascoyne Rank. My mother was a Gascoyne. My father was a commercial traveller.” “Oh, I say, that doesn’t matter.” “I didn’t suppose it would, but all the same it’s just as well you should know.” He talked gaily enough as we went along. I watched him keenly, and every now and then I noticed a shadow cross his face. I could make a fair guess at the cause of it. He was wondering how he should tell his sister that the offspring of a mésalliance in the family was her guest. He would no doubt have liked to ask me to say nothing about it, but was too well bred to do so. His chance came, however, when I informed him that I was in his uncle’s office. He turned and looked at me in amazement. “I say, there’s plenty of time—let’s go down this path. It’s a longer way round, but I want to talk to you. It’s all a bit sudden and interesting, isn’t it?” We turned down a side path where the white loose sand was strewn with pine needles. “You know,” said young Gascoyne, “my father and my uncle Gascoyne were not on speaking terms.” “I gathered as much,” I remarked. “When my cousin committed suicide I wanted to write and say how sorry I was, but my sister said she thought that it would look as if we were after his money, so I didn’t.” I began to wonder if perhaps the desire to throw a very poor relation in the teeth of this independent young couple might not have had something to do with the action of Mr. Gascoyne in taking me into his business. “My sister has curious ideas. She thinks that if a Gascoyne went into business he should have changed his name.” “There are heaps of stockbrokers of first-rate family.” “Oh, I don’t agree with her in the least. I think it’s all rot, and I should rather have liked to be taken up by Uncle Gascoyne, but once my sister gets an idea into her head you can’t move her.” “Perhaps she may not care about entertaining me.” “Oh, she’ll be civil.” “I’ll go back if you like,” I said. “I shan’t be offended. You could not know who I was.” He stood still and thought deeply. “No,” he said, shortly, “come on, you’ll oblige me by doing so. It’s beastly rude of me to have hesitated. I like you, cousin Israel. You are quite different from anyone I have ever met.”