He became seedy and slipshod, with hollow eyes, and clothes that hung loosely upon his diminishing frame. Alf resented his presence and appearance as a personal injury. "Does it to spite me, it's my belief," he told his mother furiously. "Always at the _Star_ corner lookin like a scare-crow and askin for pity. A fair disgrace on the family. Of course all the folks want to know why I don't help him. What's the good of helping him? He's the sort the more you help the less he'll help himself. Help him downhill, as Reverend Spink says." The thing became a scandal locally, and Anne Caspar shared something of the feeling of her younger son. If Ern must starve, why do it at her door? Happily her husband was, as always, blind to what was going on beneath his nose; and so long as he was not disturbed Anne could stifle any pangs of conscience that might trouble her. Alf, on the other hand, had no pangs to stifle: for to the hardness of the egoist he added the mercilessness of the degenerate. His mental attitude towards the weak was that of the lower animals towards the wounded of their kind. He wanted them out of the way. Indeed, but for his ever-present sense of the Man in Blue at the corner of the street he would have dealt with Ernie, dragging a broken wing, as the maimed rook is dealt with by its mates. He eased himself, however, and took characteristic revenge on his brother for the spiritual wrongs that the needy can inflict upon the prosperous by direct action. At a meeting of the Church of England Men's Society in Old Town, he asked in laboured words and with obvious emotion for the prayers of those present for "a dear one who had gone astrye"; squeezing his eyes and contorting his features in a fashion that led certain ladies of the congregation of St. Michael to whisper among themselves that Mr. Caspar was a very earnest young man. Even in the C.E.M.S. Alf had few friends and some enemies; and Ernie heard from one of these--whom a sense of duty had compelled to speak--what had passed at the meeting in the Church-room. Ernie accordingly stopped his brother in the street next day. He looked white and dangerous. Alf knew that look and halted. His heart, too, brought up with a jolt, and then began to patter furiously. "What's all this, then?" began Ernie, breathing heavily through his nose. "What's what?" "At the Men's Society last night. Can't do nothing to help your brother...." Alf held up a deprecatory hand. "You don't know what you're talkin about, Ernest," he said solemnly. "I'm doin more for you nor what you know." Ernie came closer. There was in his eyes a surprising flash and glitter as of steel suddenly unsheathed; and he was kneading his hands. Ern's "punch" had been famous in certain circles in Old Town long before he went into the Army.