"As usual," said Inspector Robson, gravely. "He's a gentlemanly young fellow." "Yes." "Been to France and Germany, and to good schools for education." "Did he tell you that himself?" "Florence told us." "Dear little Florence!" Such wistful tenderness and regret in his voice! "Aunt Rob thinks all the world of him," said Inspector Robson, his voice also charged with tenderness and regret. "I know she does." Inspector Robson stepped to Dick's side, and laid his hand caressingly on the young man's shoulder. "Dick! Dick!" "No nonsense of that sort, uncle," said Dick, gently shaking himself free. "I've been going to ask you once or twice whether you put any other name to Reginald." "Now you mention it, Dick, I never have." "Has Aunt Rob, or Florence?" "Not that I'm aware of. We've always called him Mr. Reginald. It's not a bad name, Dick." "Not at all a bad name, but most people have two. Good night, uncle." "Good night, Dick, if you _must_ go." Other words were struggling to his lips, but before he could utter them Dick was off. "It never struck me before," mused Inspector Robson, sadly. "Can that be the reason----" He did not say the reason of what, and his cogitation ended with, "Poor Dick! I hope not--I hope not!" CHAPTER XI. DICK REMINGTON REVIEWS THE PAST. Dick Remington also mused as he made his way through the white mist. His thoughts, put into words, ran in this wise: "Come, old man, let us review the past, and see how we stand. If I'm not mistaken Aunt Rob has hit the nail straight on the head, and Uncle Rob made a clumsy blow at it. But my secret is mine, and I will guard it jealously. "Dear little Florence! My chum, my comrade, almost from the day of her birth. Boys aren't generally fond of babies, but I was of her from the first; and when as a child she promised to be my wife when she grew up I did not think of it as a thistledown promise that time would lightly blow away. At that age we do not think; our hearts, our souls, are like a prism which leaps into light and colour when light and colour shine upon it. Had I been wiser I might have believed that a more enduring flower than thistledown would grow up in its place, a flower that would bloom and shed its sweetness and fragrance upon me through all the years to come. Thank God I was not wiser, for we were very happy then. It was only when graver responsibilities forced themselves upon me that I knew, as I know now, that she and she alone could bring happiness into my life. Fate willed it otherwise. It can never be. "Would it have been otherwise had I myself been different from what I am, been firmer of purpose, had won respect and esteem for sterling qualities that are not in my nature? Who can tell? We are the sport of circumstance, and drift, and drift, and drift--as I have drifted. You are quite right, Aunt Rob. Your nephew, Dick Remington, has no stability--but he can keep his secret.