It was by no means the first time the young man had noticed that Stormont always seemed to know a good deal about everybody who was of any importance in the world. According to what Gloria had let drop, he knew that Lydon’s father had been a man of considerable wealth. He rather wondered where this information was procured. Stormont of course knew a great many people about Effington, but so much gossip of the big world would hardly filter there. He had never heard him speak of numerous acquaintances in London, and so far as Leonard knew, he did not belong to any London club, a circumstance which in a man of his apparent wealth seemed rather peculiar. “A very remarkable family, the Clandons,” repeated the genial, rubicund man. “Remarkable in this respect, that for some generations they have transmitted to their descendants a very high order of intelligence. They have never produced any first-class brains, it is true. They have never boasted a Prime Minister, a great general, a distinguished lawyer, but several of them have filled second and third-rate posts with some distinction. This poor chap who killed himself after trying to murder the girl, for example. I don’t suppose he would have been a Stratford de Redcliffe, or a von Bieberstein, but he would no doubt have developed into a quite respectable diplomatist of the average order.” It hurt Lydon to hear him speak of his old friend in such a slighting manner. But Hugh had certainly taken no pains to conceal his dislike of “the aggressive profiteer,” and Stormont was human. The next words startled him greatly. “Well, as I told you, I know some things about the Clandon family, one a fact not at all generally known. By the light of that knowledge, your friend’s act can be accounted for. There was insanity on both sides, the mother’s and the father’s.” “You astound me,” cried Lydon in genuine amazement. “I never had a suspicion of this. But then how should I have? Even if Hugh was acquainted with the fact, which it is more than likely he was, he would scarcely reveal it even to his best friend.” “Quite so,” assented Stormont. “Men don’t speak of these painful things as a rule. But you can rest assured that what I have told you is quite true. The uncle of the present holder of the title, Hugh Craig’s father, a man of good fortune, endowed with all the blessings of life, cut his throat in his bath one morning without any apparent reason or motive; this man’s sister, Lord Clandon’s aunt, died a raving lunatic. On the mother’s side, Lady Clandon has a younger brother who has been in a private asylum for the last twenty-five years. It is not generally known outside the family. My sources of information happened to be rather exclusive. So you see the taint suddenly developed in this poor chap as soon as he got an overpowering shock.”