“A serpents tooth, to have a thankless child. I dislike being interrupted. Matthew, Roderick has gone to the Jews. The bills have fallen due. They won't renew, and if they are not paid, they'll put him in prison. I cannot have my son in prison.” “Get him out, then,” replied Matthew. “I can't do more for him than I do. I promised, years ago, that what Sylvester had, Roderick should have, and, by Heaven! I've kept my promise. I can't do more. You can't draw blood from a stone.” “As if any one ever wanted to. Proverbs are foolish. I never make use of proverbs. I think you must take up those bills.” “And if I don't?” Usher shrugged his shoulders and, sitting down again, refilled his glass and held it up to the light. Matthew stood on the hearth-rug, his hands behind him, and regarded him impassively. “I gave you Roderick's quarterly allowance only a short while ago. What has he done with it?” “I do not know,” said Usher, impressively, turning his dull venerable face towards him. “He has nearly ruined me already.” “Have you brought his letters with you?” “I burned his letters. It is imprudent to keep compromising letters. But I have made out a statement of affairs.” Usher took from his pocket a double sheet of foolscap, smoothed it out and examined it deliberately, then handed it to Matthew. The latter glanced through the statement. His lips quivered for a moment. “This is practically fraud,” he said. “A magistrate might commit on it, a jury find a verdict of guilty, and then--” “His dear mother's memory,” said Usher, wagging his head solemnly. Matthew involuntarily clenched the paper tight in his hand. “Damn you!” he said. Then he repeated it. “Damn you!” But Usher stretched out a deprecating hand and spoke in tones of gentle reproach. “You must be calm, my dear friend. I am always calm. I have never said a word in all my life that I have had cause to regret. Not even this morning, when Olivia with great carelessness destroyed a new book-plate. And it was a very valuable book-plate. It belonged to Hugh, the first Earl of Lawford, of Edward III.'s creation.” “Are you aware that your own son is in danger of penal servitude?” asked Matthew, sharply. “Why, of course. Is not that my reason for coming to you? I put the matter into your hands, as lawyer and friend and second father to my erring boy, and I am content. Yes, I am content, for I have trust in you. Shall we go up now and join the ladies?” Matthew bit the end off another cigar and lighted it. Then, as if his guest had made the most natural and relevant proposal in the world, he said with a courtesy not devoid of grimness,--“My sister is not feeling very well this evening, and the young folks might be happier alone together, so perhaps we'll not go upstairs. And as this affair of Roderick's will give me some thinking, you'll excuse me if I leave you shortly.”