This confession reached René at the same time as a letter from his brother George conveying the same news. The attorney in Edinburgh had written to say he had no reply from Mr. René Fourmy, and to ask for information as to his whereabouts. "This," said George, "has been a bit of a shock to us. We'd counted on something from the old lady. However, it makes a difference to you. If you feel inclined to come up and see us I'll be glad to have you. I suppose you'll give up the street-slogging. The old man has been in London. Did you see him?" René announced his intention of going to Thrigsby. His mind was going back and back over his life in the attempt to understand it. If he could see George and his mother, he felt and hoped that he might be able to follow up the threads placed in his hands by his chance encounter with his father. A day or two later saw him arriving at the Albert Station with his arm in a sling. George was there to meet him. "Hullo, old sport," he said, "been in the wars?" René told the lie invented by Kilner for the doctor. "By Jove," said George, "you have been roughing it. I'll tell that to the youngsters in our office when they get dotty about Canada and the Wild West. Wild West of London, eh?" and he chuckled at his own joke. "Elsie's quite excited," he said, as they boarded the Hog Lane tram. "And mother?" asked René. "Well. Hum. You'll find a difference in the mother." René was struck by many changes. New warehouses, new rows of shops, some attempt to bring distinction into the architecture of the city, though, for the most part, nothing but ostentation was attained. They passed the university. There were new buildings there, more like an insurance office than ever. Streets that he remembered as respectable and prosperous had become slums swarming with grimy children. A great piece had been taken out of Potter's Park for the building of a hideous art gallery. The trams now passed down Hog Lane West, with the result that most of the houses had apartment cards in their fanlights. George had moved from The Nest into 168. He could get a larger house for the same rent. His house was exactly the same as their old home. It gave René a depressing idea that nothing had changed. George was fatter: Elsie thinner. They had four children. George was in the same office, and, as he said, had flung away ambition: too many children to take risks, and after all there was nothing in the small firm now. The one or two connections you depended on might go bust any day. It needed enormous capital to stand the fluctuations of prices. He had got a rise by pretending to go and was quite content. He played bowls in the summer and bridge in the winter. And Elsie? What with the house and the mother she had plenty to do, plenty to do.