"Mind, you've got to stay abroad."

"For ever?"

"You must give me your word you won't come back for two years certain, and after that you lose your allowance if you land in Great Britain or Ireland."

"Including the Channel Islands?"

"Including them."

"I see your game," smiled Heriot. "But I give you my word. Poor Jean, poor Frank--"

"You're not even to write to them," interrupted Andrew.

Mr. Walkingshaw stroked his chin meditatively.

"I agree to that," he said. "Any more conditions?"

The smile that prevailed in his discomfited parent's eye perturbed the junior partner. He warily scanned all possible loopholes.

"You're not to communicate with Madge Dunbar."

"G.o.d forbid!" said Heriot fervently.

"Nor my aunt."

"Bless her, poor soul; no fears of that."

"I think that's all," said Andrew reluctantly.

So long as those eyes continued to look at him like that, he desired to pile condition on condition. But the overwhelming advantages of being enc.u.mbered with no imagination occasionally--very occasionally--have compensating drawbacks. He could imagine nothing else to be guarded against.

"Then I'd better pack and be off."

"You had," said Andrew.

Just as he was leaving the room, Heriot turned and asked--

"You've heard of changelings?"

Andrew stared.

"Do you not mind hearing of goblins that get put into cradles instead of the real babies? That accounts for you. Thank the Lord, I need never again claim the discredit of begetting you!"

CHAPTER VIII

A luggage-laden cab clattered over the granite cubes and pa.s.sed out of the ring of tall mansions and the shadow of the stately trees within the garden. The career of Heriot Walkingshaw, W.S., was ended, and shocked respectability could lower again her up-rolled eyes and see nothing more outrageous than a prowling cat. May her troubles always end as happily!

Undoubtedly, had the full facts been there and then made public, a statue of the junior partner (completely clad) would have adorned that decorous garden.

But his modest reticence was remarkable. He stood in the somber hall listening intently to make sure that the cab really did ascend the steep street towards the station, when his ally, after peering over the banisters, ran downstairs to meet him. He was just heaving a deep sigh of relief.

"Did some one go away in a cab?" she asked.

He looked at her sharply.

"Quite possibly."

In her eyes gleamed a sudden hint of suspicion.

"Was it Heriot?"

He took his time before answering very deliberately--

"It was."

"Where is he going?"

Again he paused. As every moment took his father farther from them, so every moment was precious.

"Can you not guess?"

"What!" she cried. "You're actually putting him into an asylum?"

"It's the best place for him."

She seized his arm.

"Did you give him the alternative?"

With a chaste movement he withdrew the arm.

"I gave him an alternative, certainly."

Her black eyes seemed to pierce into his brain. He disliked being looked at like that exceedingly.

"_Our_ alternative?"

"Our?" he questioned.

"The alternative we discussed last night?"

"We discussed a good many things."

She kept following him up till his back was nearly against the front door.

"Did you offer him the alternative of keeping his promise to me?"