'On that point, as matters stand, I can, of course, say nothing. But since I've always understood that you were a smart man, Foster, I take it that the man who took you in must have got up early. How much has gone besides that twenty thousand?' 'Nothing. You will find everything in perfect order. The estate was never in a more flourishing condition. And there is a very large sum standing to your lordship's credit.' 'In cash?' 'In investments which are as good as cash.' 'I like your end better than your beginning.' 'May I ask where, all this time, your lordship has been?' 'You may.' 'Your absence has been the cause of great anxiety. Where has your lordship been?' 'Foster, do you remember that I never did like answering questions?' 'I have a clear recollection of that trait in your lordship's character.' 'I've got it still--that trait. I said you might ask, and you have asked; so that's over and done with. What's the next business on the paper?' We talked figures. Very pleasant figures they were--from my point of view. I learnt more from Mr. Stephen Foster about things I wanted to learn than I should have thought would have been possible in such a very few minutes. It never seemed to enter his head for a single instant that he was being had a second time. His one desire apparently was to rid himself of the consequences of his original blunder as completely as he possibly could. He wanted me, in short, to still give him credit for shrewdness, even though on one occasion he had lacked discretion. And I gave it him. Not ungrudgingly; for that, I felt, would have been to display an undue willingness to overlook his error. But I allowed him to think, by degrees, that his observations were carrying conviction to my mind, and that I perceived that, after all, he was not such a fool as I had at first supposed. While we were still talking some one came into the room with a rush. It was Lord Reginald--with his hat on his head. I guess he was in too much of a flurry to have thought of removing it. 'What is this I hear? Foster! Who is this?' He spoke with a bit of a splutter, as though his words tumbled over each other, he was in such a hurry to get them out. 'Lord Reginald, this is your brother--the Marquis of Twickenham.' I rather fancy Foster gave me the whole of my title because it was like a slap in the face to the young gentleman at the door. There was no love lost between the pair. My affectionate relative frowned till his eyebrows met at the top of his nose. 'Twickenham!' I wasn't uneasy, and I wasn't flurried. Though this was an odd way of meeting--and greeting--one's brother. It was plain he'd rather I'd kept away. So I just turned in my chair, and I looked at him; this time up and down; and I did a drawl. 'This Reggie? 'Pon my word, how you have grown!' He came forward to the table, leaning against it with both hands, and bending over it to stare. 'Are you--are you--Foster, are you sure this is my brother?'