The blind man's ear recognized the tone now. "I wish you boys would agree better," he said wearily. "Gerald, go to bed. I would as soon play chess with an idiot from Earlswood. Generally you can play the game, if you are good for nothing else; but since your brother came in, you have not made a move which anyone not an imbecile would make. Go to bed, boy! go to bed!" I had stepped to the table while he was speaking. One of the glasses was full. I lifted it, with seeming unconcern, to my nose. There was whisky in it as well as water. Then _had_ Gerald mixed for me? At any rate, I put the tumbler aside, and helped myself afresh. When I set the glass down empty, my mind was made up. "Gerald does not seem inclined to move, sir, so I will," I said quietly. "I will call in the morning and discuss that matter, if it will suit you. But to-night I feel inclined to get to bed early." "Quite right, my boy. I would ask you to take a bed here instead of turning out, but I suppose that Laura will be expecting you. Come in any time tomorrow morning. Shall Barnes call a cab for you?" "I think I will walk," I answered, shaking the proffered hand. "By the way, sir," I added, "have you heard who is the new Home Secretary?" "Yes, Henry Matthews," he replied. "Gerald told me. He had heard it at the club." "It is to be hoped that he will have no womanish scruples about capital punishment," I said, as if I were incidentally considering the appointment. And with that last shot at Mr. Gerald--he turned green, I thought, a color which does not go well with a black mustache--I walked out of the room, so peaceful, so cozy, so softly lighted as it looked, I remember, and downstairs. I hoped that I had paralyzed the young fellow, and might leave the house without molestation. But, as I gained the foot of the stairs, he tapped me on the shoulder. I saw, then, looking at him, that I had mistaken my man. Every trace of the sullen defiance which had marked his manner throughout the interview upstairs was gone. His face was still pale, but it wore a gentle smile as we confronted one another under the hall lamp. "I have not the pleasure of knowing you, but let me thank you for your help," he said in a low voice, yet with a kind of frank spontaneity. "Barnes' idea of bringing you in was a splendid one, and I am immensely obliged to you." [Illustration: "YOU ARE FORGETTING THE PAPERS," HE REMINDED ME.] "Don't mention it," I answered stiffly, proceeding with my preparations for going out as if he had not been there, although I must confess that this complete change in him exercised my mind no little. "I feel so sure that we may rely upon your discretion," he went on, ignoring my tone, "that I need say nothing about that. Of course, we owe you an explanation, but as your cold is really yours and not my brother's, you will not mind if I read you the riddle to-morrow instead of keeping you from your bed to-night?"