He pointed to the place where the packet lay. "You are forgetting the papers," he reminded me. His tone almost compelled the answer, "To be sure!" But I had made up my mind, and I answered instead, "Not at all. They are quite safe, thank you!" "But you don't--I beg your pardon----" He opened his eyes very wide as he spoke, as if some new light were beginning to shine upon his mind and he could scarcely believe its revelations. "You don't mean that you are going to take those papers away with you?" "Certainly." "My dear sir!" he remonstrated earnestly. "This is preposterous. Pray forgive me the reminder, but those papers, as my father gave you to understand, are private papers, which he supposed himself to be handing to my brother George." "Just so!" was all I said. And I took a step towards the door. "You mean to take them?" he asked seriously. "I do; unless you can explain the part I have played this evening. And also make it clear to me that you have a right to the possession of the papers." "Confound it! If I must do so to-night, I must!" he said reluctantly. "I trust to your honour, sir, to keep the explanation secret." I bowed, and he went on: "My elder brother and I are in business together. Lately we have had losses which have crippled us so severely that a day or two ago we decided to disclose them to Sir Charles and ask his help. George did so yesterday by letter, giving certain notes of our liabilities. You ask why he did not make such a statement by word of mouth? Because he had to go to Liverpool at a moment's notice to make a last effort to arrange the matter. As for me," with a curious grimace, "my father would as soon discuss business with his dog! Sooner!" "Well?" I said. He had paused, and was nicking the blossoms off the geraniums in the fireplace with his pocket-handkerchief, looking moodily at his work the while. I cannot remember noticing the handkerchief, yet I can see it now. It had a red border, and was heavily scented with white rose. "Well?" "Well," he continued, with a visible effort, "my father has been ailing, and this morning his doctor made him see Bristowe. He is an authority on heart-disease, as you know; and his opinion is," he added in a lower voice and with some emotion, "that even a slight shock may prove fatal." I began to feel hot and uncomfortable. What was I to think? The packet was becoming as lead in my pocket.