fiendish father had discovered an awfully effective line of attack.
"Well, well," said Mr. Kirby, "that 's not business. Of course, I shouldn't have troubled you as I have about other people's business. But about Greystones, Mr. McAuley, the trouble is—of course, I do not blame you, but you will see you are legally responsible—well, the trouble is that after you left the place—painting, weren't you, I think?—we found the studio in—well, in an odd condition; and, you see," he went on, shifting his position, and still conversational, "between you and me, the owner of the house is a little—why, almost a little odd." Mr. Kirby smiled as he proceeded. "It 's not my business to talk about one client to another," he said, "but you 'll understand me. Fact is, it really sounds too ridiculous, and I did what I could to stop him; but you will understand why I telephoned. He said he 'd summons you to-morrow. He says it 's twenty-one pounds."
Jimmy heard not a word. He was thinking of vastly more important things.
Mr. Kirby continued—
"Of course, I would have paid and communicated with you afterwards, Mr.
