“Nothing,” said Inez. “What do you mean? Tell me quickly please.” “Hasn’t he told you that his doctor has reported badly on his heart?” “No, not a word. Is it—is he dangerously ill?” “Not immediately, no. But he will have to take great care. Surely he must have told you he was giving up a lot of his work?” “Yes, he did,” replied Inez. “But he said it was because he thought he’d earned a little peace and quiet.” “I see. So you really know nothing. I suppose I’m betraying a confidence, but you’ve got to know now. His heart is in a really bad condition—I don’t know the technical terms, but it is a case of disease. His doctor has told him definitely that he must avoid all strain or undue excitement. Now what do you think he’s done? He’s promised, or practically promised, some ridiculous school friend to go into a gimcrack business with him that will bother him and upset him and do more harm than all the safe, well-oiled work he’s giving up.” Hessel proceeded to outline the conversation he had had with Sir Garth that afternoon. Inez listened with close attention, occasionally asking a question that showed the clearness of her intellect. Ryland remained silent, but there was a look of uneasiness on his face that first puzzled and then comforted Inez. In spite of all the hard things that he said about their father, she felt that her brother really loved him and that this look of anxiety revealed the true state of his feelings. “That’s all serious enough,” continued Hessel. “But something that happened this afternoon makes it worse. He had a shock—a motor-bicycle nearly knocked him over—and he had a bad heart attack. I tried to make him come straight home but he wouldn’t—he was as obstinate as a mule—said he must go to a Hospital Board meeting, though he’d come home afterwards. He ought to be back at any time; I wanted to see you first. Take care of him, Inez,—and you too, Ryland. Don’t let him worry; we simply can’t spare him. Above all stop this madcap Lorne scheme.” He stopped and looked questioningly at Inez, who nodded. “We’ll take care of him, Uncle Leo,” she said. “Don’t you worry. Won’t we, Ry?” But Ryland was sitting with a very white face, glaring at his toes. “What is it, Ry?” asked Inez, slipping on to the sofa beside him and putting her arm round his neck. “Don’t get upset, old man. He’ll be all right if we take care of him.” Ryland shook himself and looked at her strangely. “I’m afraid I . . . I wrote to him last night . . . It’ll upset him if he reads it now . . . I wonder if I can get hold of the letter. . . .” But once more Golpin, like a figure of fate, appeared in the doorway. “Sir Garth wishes to see you in his study, Mr. Ryland.” Ryland rose to his feet and walked slowly to the door. Inez rose as if to follow him, but stopped. “Ry,” she said, her hand making a slight movement as if of appeal. “Be careful.” Her brother glanced over his shoulder.