"Where's he getting it from?" she demanded. "He must be getting it from somewhere." "I expect he's made it. He's rather clever, you know." "But he can't have made money like that." "People do, sometimes." "Not honestly,--you know what I mean, Arthur!" This was an earthquaking phrase to come from a mother's lips. "And yet," said Mr. Prohack, "everything Charlie did used to be right for you." "But he's carrying on just like an adventurer! I've read in reports of trials about people carrying on just like that. A fortnight ago he hadn't got fifty pounds cash in the world, and now he's living like a millionaire at the Grand Babylon Hotel! Arthur, what are you going to do about it? Couldn't you go and see him to-night?" "Now listen to me," Mr. Prohack began in a new tone, taking her hands. "Supposing I did go and see him to-night, what could I say to him?" "Well, you're his father." "And you're his mother. What did _you_ say to him?" "Oh! I didn't say anything. I only said I should have been very glad if he could have arranged to sleep at home as usual, and he said he was sorry he couldn't because he was so busy." "You didn't tell him he was carrying on like an adventurer?" "Arthur! How could I?" "But you'd like _me_ to tell him something of the sort. All that I can say, you could say--and that is, enquire in a friendly way what he has done, is doing, and hopes to do." "But--" "Yes, my innocent creature. You may well pause." He caressed her, and she tried to continue in unhappiness, but could not. "You pause because there is nothing to say." "You're his father at any rate," she burst out triumphantly.