“Enough said--enough said.” Leonard looked round the room. There were only three or four men present: they sat singly, each with a magazine in his hand: they preserved the attitude of those who read critically, but there was a _je-ne-sais-quoi_ about them which suggested that they had heard the words of this delightful guest. Indeed, he spoke loud enough for all to hear. It is not every day that one can hear in a respectable club revelations about putting somebody’s name on the front and on the back of a document vaguely described as “you know what.” “Enough said,” Leonard repeated impatiently. “My dear fellow, you interrupt. I am going to set the whole thing right, if you’ll let me.” “I don’t want to hear it.” “It isn’t what you want to hear; it’s what you’ve got to hear,” said uncle Fred impressively and earnestly. He had taken, even for him, a little more than was good for him: it made him obstinate: it also made his speech uncertain as to loudness and control: he carried off these defects with increased earnestness. “Character, Leonard, character is involved; and self-respect; also forgiveness. I am not come home to bear malice, as will be shown by my testamentary dispositions when Abraham calls me to his bosom----” “Oh! But really----” “Really--you shall hear! (Boy, why the devil do you keep me waiting for another whisky and soda?) Look here, Leonard. There was a money-lender in it----” “Never mind the money-lender----” “I must mind him. Man! he was in it. I quite forget at this moment where old Cent. per Cent. got in. But he was there--oh yes! he was there. He always was there in those days either for Chris or for me. Devil of a fellow, Chris! Now, then. The money-lending Worm--or Crocodile--wanted to be paid. He was always wanting to be paid. Either it was Chris or it was me. Let me think----” “Does it matter?” “Truth, sir, and character always matter. What the money-lender said I forget at this moment. I dare say Chris knows; it was more his affair than mine. It amounted to this----” He drained his glass again, and forgot what he had intended to say. “When the fellow was gone, ‘Chris,’ I said, ‘here’s a pretty hole you’re in.’ I am certain that he was in the hole, and not me, because what was done, you know, was intended to pull him out of the hole. So it must have been Chris, and not me. It is necessary,” he added with dignity, “to make this revolution--revelation. It is due to self-respect. My brother Chris, then, you understand, was in the hole. (Boy, I’ll take another whisky and soda.) I want you to understand exactly what happened.” Leonard groaned. “Of course, when it came to sticking a name on a paper, and that paper a cheque----” “For the Lord’s sake, man, stop!” Leonard whispered. “I knew and told him that the world, which is a harsh world and never makes allowance, would call the thing by a bad name. Which happened. But who could foresee that they would tack that name on to me?”