'Mr Ford, the boy's father, who struck me as a man of great ability, a typical American merchant prince, was singularly frank with me about his domestic affairs as they concerned his son. I cannot recall his exact words, but the gist of what he said was that, until now, Mrs Ford had had sole charge of the boy's upbringing, and--Mr Ford was singularly outspoken--was too indulgent, in fact--ah--spoilt him. Indeed--you will, of course, respect my confidence--that was the real reason for the divorce which--ah--has unhappily come about. Mr Ford regards this school as in a measure--shall I say?--an antidote. He wishes there to be no lack of wholesome discipline. So that I shall expect you, Mr Burns, to check firmly, though, of course, kindly, such habits of his as--ah--cigarette-smoking. On our journey down he smoked incessantly. I found it impossible--without physical violence--to induce him to stop. But, of course, now that he is actually at the school, and subject to the discipline of the school ...' 'Exactly,' I said. 'That was all I wished to say. Perhaps it would be as well if you saw him now, Mr Burns. You will find him in the study.' He drifted away, and I went to the study to introduce myself. A cloud of tobacco-smoke rising above the back of an easy-chair greeted me as I opened the door. Moving into the room, I perceived a pair of boots resting on the grate. I stepped to the light, and the remainder of the Little Nugget came into view. He was lying almost at full length in the chair, his eyes fixed in dreamy abstraction upon the ceiling. As I came towards him, he drew at the cigarette between his fingers, glanced at me, looked away again, and expelled another mouthful of smoke. He was not interested in me. Perhaps this indifference piqued me, and I saw him with prejudiced eyes. At any rate, he seemed to me a singularly unprepossessing youth. That portrait had flattered him. He had a stout body and a round, unwholesome face. His eyes were dull, and his mouth dropped discontentedly. He had the air of one who is surfeited with life. I am disposed to imagine, as Mr Abney would have said, that my manner in addressing him was brisker and more incisive than Mr Abney's own. I was irritated by his supercilious detachment. 'Throw away that cigarette,' I said. To my amazement, he did, promptly. I was beginning to wonder whether I had not been too abrupt--he gave me a curious sensation of being a man of my own age--when he produced a silver case from his pocket and opened it. I saw that the cigarette in the fender was a stump. I took the case from his hand and threw it on to a table. For the first time he seemed really to notice my existence. 'You've got a hell of a nerve,' he said. He was certainly exhibiting his various gifts in rapid order, This, I took it, was what Mr Abney had called 'expressing himself in a curious manner'. 'And don't swear,' I said. We eyed each other narrowly for the space of some seconds.