I couldn't tell him; I didn't know. Fifty of the hardest problems in Euclid were nothing to this. Tod sat down in his shirt-sleeves. "Get one of the Pells to let you have the money, Tod. A loan of twenty or thirty pounds can be nothing to them." "It's no good, Johnny. Gusty is cleaned out. As to Fabian, he never has any spare cash, what with one expensive habit and another. Oh, I shall win it back again: perhaps to-morrow. Luck must turn." Tod said no more. But what particularly struck me was this: that, to win money from a guest in that way, and he a young fellow not of age, whose pocket-money they knew to be limited, was not at all consistent with the idea of their being "gentlemen." The next evening we were in a well-known billiard-room. Fabian Pell, Crayton, and Tod were at pool. It had been a levee day, or something of that sort, and Fabian was in full regimentals. Tod was losing, as usual. He was no match for those practised players. "I wish you would get me a glass of water, Johnny," he said. So I got it. In turning back after taking the glass from his hand, who should I see on the high bench against the wall, sitting just where I had been sitting a minute before, but my guardian and trustee, Mr. Brandon. _Could_ it be he? Old Brandon in London! and in a billiard-room. "It is never you, sir! Here!" "Yes, it is I, Johnny Ludlow," he said in his squeaky voice. "As to being here, I suppose I have as much right to be here as you have: perhaps rather more. I should like to ask what brings you here." "I came in with those three," I said, pointing towards the board. He screwed up his little eyes, and looked. "Who are they?" he asked. "Who's the fellow in scarlet?" For he did not happen to know these two younger Pells by sight. "That's Fabian Pell, sir. The one standing with his hands in his pockets, near Joseph Todhetley, is the Honourable Mr. Crayton." "Who's the Honourable Mr. Crayton?" "I think his father is the Earl of Lackland." "Oh, ah; one of Lackland's sons, is he? There's six or eight sons, of them, Johnny Ludlow, and not a silver coin amongst the lot. Lackland never had much, but what little it was he lost at horse-racing. The sons live by their wits, I've heard: lords' sons have not much work in them. The Honourable Mr. Crayton, eh! Your two friends had better take care of themselves." The thought of how Tod had "taken care" of himself flashed into my mind. I wouldn't have old Brandon know it for the world. "I posted a letter to you to-day, sir. I did not know you were from home." "What was it about?" "Nothing particular, sir. Only I had not written since we were in London." "How long are you going to stay here, Johnny Ludlow?" "About another week, I suppose." "I mean _here_. In this disreputable room." "Disreputable, sir!" "Yes, Johnny Ludlow, disreputable. Disreputable for all young men, especially for a very young one like you. I wonder what your father would have said to it!"