T1IE ROAD TO LIBERTY. 
161 
into the boy’s sitting-room one morning, to 
find him red-eyed and weary, looking dis- 
tastefully at his breakfast. 
“ Look, young fellow/ 7 he said, “ I have had 
enough. So have you. Do you under- 
stand ? I am going to take you back to 
England.” 
The boy stared at him. 
“ Are you mad ? ” he asked. “ What’s the 
use of going back to England in March, just 
when we are getting into the swing of things 
here, too ? ” 
“ The good of it for you is that you’ll get 
back to your work,” Londe answered, curtly. 
“ How do you suppose you’re going to pass 
your exams, if you waste your time like this ? 
What do you suppose you’re going to do 
with your life if you commence at twenty 
years old to live the life of a profligate ? ” 
Arthur Maddison set down the cup of coffee 
which he had been trying to drink and gazed 
at the speaker blankly. 
“ Well, I’m hanged ! ” he exclaimed. 
“ What’s come to you, Londe ? Why, it 
was you who first of all suggested coming out 
here ! ” 
“ And I was a fool to do it,” Londe retorted, 
coldly. “ They were right, all of them, when 
they advised you not to come with me — right 
when they called me an adventurer. I don’t 
get much out of it. I have lived free and done 
you for a few hundreds. I’ve had enough of it. 
It’s a disgusting life, anyway. Back we go 
to England to-day.” 
“ You’re mad ! ” the boy declared. “ I am 
not going. I’ve got a dinner-party to-night.” 
“ We go to-day,” Londe repeated, firmly, 
“ and don’t you forget it.” 
u Do you think you’re going to bully me?” 
the boy began. 
“ I don’t know what you call bullying,” 
Londe replied, “ but I shall wring your neck 
if you don’t come. Your man has begun to 
pack already. I’ve got seats on the Luxe for 
three o’clock, and I’ve wired your mother.” 
The boy collapsed. 
Londe left him at his mother’s house in 
Grosvenor Square two days later, and drove 
the next day into the City. He called upon a 
firm of old-fashioned lawyers, and was at once 
received by the principal of the firm. The 
greeting, however, between the two men was 
mutually cold. The lawyer looked question- 
ingly at his visitor’s grey tweed suit and 
Homburg hat. 
“ We wrote you four days ago, Mr. Londe,” 
he said, “ to acquaint you with the news we 
had just received from America.” 
“ My wife ? ” 
“ She has been dangerously ill,” the lawyer 
replied. “ The habits of her life, I regret to 
say, are unchanged. It is necessary that she 
remains under restraint.” 
“ Is there any money left at all besides the 
four hundred pounds a year that goes to her ? ” 
Londe asked. 
The lawyer sighed. 
“ It is always money,” he said, grimly. 
“ There is the Priory still.” 
“ I won’t sell it,” Londe declared. 
“ Then there is nothing else worth men- 
tioning.” 
“ If you were to sell everything else that 
belongs to me,” Londe inquired, “ how should 
I stand ? ” 
“ You might have a thousand pounds.” 
“ Then I’ll take it,” Londe declared. “ I 
am going to emigrate.” 
For a moment the grim lines in the lawyer’s 
face relaxed. 
“ As an old friend of your father, Mr. 
Londe,” he said, “ it would give me great 
pleasure if I thought you were tired of the 
life you are reputed to live.” 
<( Iam heartily sick of it,” Londe assured 
him. 
“ Then I will do my best to straighten out 
your affairs,” the lawyer promised. “ It will 
take a month. Shall you remain in town ? ” 
“ I expect so,” Londe answered. “ You 
know my address. I will call here a month 
to-day.” 
Londe spent three restless weeks. The 
sight of the City was hateful to him. The 
clubs, where he was received coldly, the 
shadier resorts which he had been wont to 
patronize, were like nightmares to him. He 
turned his back suddenly upon them all, 
left London at two -twenty, and late in the 
afternoon of the following day arrived at 
Hyeres. He took a room at the hotel and 
wandered restlessly into the Casino. There 
was a variety entertainment going on in the 
theatre, which he watched for half an hour 
with ever-increasing weariness. Then a 
juggler came on and began the tricks of his 
profession. Londe leaned forward. The girl 
who stood at the table, assisting him, had 
turned her face to the house. He watched 
her with a little start. Something in the shy 
grace of her movements, the queer, half- 
frightened smile, seemed to have let loose 
memories which were tugging at his heart- 
strings. He got up with a little exclamation 
and left the place. To divert himself he 
strolled down to the gambling saloon and 
threw his francs recklessly away at boule. 
