"Of course there is," I replied, for though the new order of things as to house decoration and so on was in its earliest infancy, on that very account perhaps its crudities were already frequently visible and jarring. "I love a room which you _feel_ has been the same for more than one generation. Whose corner is that?" I went on, as I perceived a neat, not ugly, but very business-like writing-table with chair to match, in a nook facing the book-shelves, and near one of the windows. "Yours?" "No," Rupert replied. "That is where Clarence writes when he has to bring work home, as sometimes happens. Mother doesn't approve of our sitting up in our own rooms. She never has allowed it--she's afraid of our falling asleep and setting fire to the house, though I don't see that the risk isn't pretty much the same downstairs as well as upstairs." "Oh, I don't know that," I said; "it would take a good deal to make _these_ burn," and I touched the thick woollen draperies of the window as I spoke. Half unconsciously I had moved a little nearer to the writing-table, and the postmark of a large bluish-coloured envelope caught my eyes, which, as I have said, are, or at least were, in those days very quick. It was that of "Millflowers." I felt myself blush, though I am quite sure Rupert did not notice it; indeed the room was too dusky for him to have done so, and a feeling of annoyance went through me. "I seem fated to do mean things," I thought. "Eavesdropping, and now reading what I have no right to see," though, after all, the word I had noticed did no more than confirm what I was already instinctively convinced of--that the Paynes were the legal advisers of the Grimsthorpe family. I turned back quickly towards the fireplace. "How hard your brother must work," I said, as I settled myself in the roomy chair. "Yes," Rupert replied--by this time he was arranging a sheaf or two of papers on the small table--"yes, he does, lately especially, for father's partner died some months ago, which has given Clarence more to do, but better position too, of course." "Oh, indeed," I replied, while I added to myself, "No doubt, then, he _now_ knows the Grey affairs and secrets, so far as Mr Grey allows them to be known. For I remember Rupert telling me that _two_ were in the mysterious family's confidence, and that in time to come it might fall to his share to be one of the two." "He has some variety in his work, though," I went on. "At least he seems to travel a good deal." "Now and then it happens so," said Rupert. "This winter he has had some long journeys--some old clients of ours--not able to travel up to town. And I fancy he is rather worried--a member of the family is very ill just now." My heart went down. "It must be that poor Caryll," I thought, with melancholy misgiving. "Why, it seems nearly as bad as being a doctor," I said, with assumed carelessness.