“Oh, I’ll be careful right enough,” he answered. “I can’t answer for the old man. This means a flogging,” he added, with a feeble attempt at humour. The door closed behind him and Inez turned to Hessel. “I can’t stop them,” she said. “They’re both as obstinate as pigs. I do wish they got on better.” “I told your father today that I thought he was hard on Ryland,” said Hessel, “but I suppose he is rather trying in some ways.” “Oh, he’s rather a young ass, of course. Stage doors, night-clubs, and that kind of thing. As a matter of fact he is really rather keen on the stage himself, apart from its inhabitants; he’s a jolly good actor. I sometimes wish he’d take it up as a profession; good hard work is what he wants more than anything else. He’s perfectly sound really you know; he’s not a rotter.” “I’m sure he isn’t, my dear,” said Hessel, patting Inez on the shoulder. “And he’s a lucky young man to have a sister like you to fight his battles. Well, I must be going; I ran away early from school to come and talk to you and I must go and do some overtime now to make up for it. Besides, I don’t want your father to catch me here telling tales.” When he had gone, Inez sat for a few minutes in gloomy silence, then jumped up, shook herself and turned on the loud-speaker. A jazz-band was playing ‘When father turned the baby upside down’ and Inez danced a few steps to its lilting tune. Suddenly, through stutter of drums and moan of saxophones, Inez heard the front door close with a crash. She stopped for a moment, as if hesitating what to do, then flew to the window and flung it open. Twenty yards down the street she saw the retreating figure of her brother. “Ry,” she called. “Ry, come back.” But Ryland, if he heard, took no notice; she saw him hail a taxi, jump into it and drive away. For a moment she hung out of the window, watching till the cab whisked round a corner out of sight; then turned forlornly back into the room. “_So father kissed his baby on its other little cheek_ . . .” yelled the jazz soloist. Inez picked up a book and hurled it at the loud-speaker. “Oh, shut up, you filthy fool,” she cried. The instrument crashed to the floor and was still; Inez flung herself on the sofa and buried her face in her arms. CHAPTER III The Victory Finance Company The morning after Sir Garth’s confession to Hessel, the cause of it, Major-General Sir Hunter Lorne, K.C.B., D.S.O., stepped from his car outside Ald House in Fenchurch Street, greeted the hall-porter cheerfully, refused the lift (“must keep young, you know, Canting”) and climbed briskly up to the offices of the Victory Finance Company on the fourth floor.