“Oh!  She wouldn’t!” said Charlie.  “She’s like that.  She’s the strangest mixture of reserve and rashness you ever saw.”

“No, she isn’t.  Because they’re all the strangest mixture—­except of course your esteemed mother, who we all agree is perfect.  Anything else I can do for you to-night?”

“You might tell me how you did find out about the church-clock.”

“With pleasure.  The explanation will surprise you.  I found out because in my old-world way I’m jolly clever.  And that’s all there is to it.”

“Good night, dad.  Thanks very much.”

After Charlie had gone, Mr. Prohack said to himself:  “That boy’s getting on.  I can remember the time when he would have come snorting in here full of his grievance, and been very sarcastic when I offered him money he didn’t want.  What a change!  Oh, yes, he’s getting on all right.  He’ll come through.”

And Mr. Prohack was suddenly much fonder of the boy and more inclined to see in him the possibility of genius.  But he was aware of apprehension as to the relations forming between his son and Mimi.  That girl appeared to be establishing an empire over the great youthful prodigy of finance.  Was this desirable?...  No, that was not the question.  The question was:  Would Eve regard it as desirable?  He could never explain to his wife how deeply he had been touched by Mimi’s mad solicitude for the slumber of Charlie’s father.  And even if he could have explained Eve would never have consented to understand.

CHAPTER XXI

EVE’S MARTYRDOM

I

After a magnificent night’s sleep, so magnificent indeed that he felt as if he had never until that moment really grasped the full significance of the word “sleep,” Mr. Prohack rang the bell for his morning tea.  Of late he had given orders that he must not under any circumstances be called, for it had been vouchsafed to him that in spite of a multitude of trained servants there were still things that he could do for himself better than anybody else could do for him, and among them was the act of waking up Mr. Prohack.  He knew that he was in a very good humour, capable of miracles, and he therefore determined that he would seize the opportunity to find the human side of Mr. Brool and make a friend of him.  But the tea-tray was brought in by Mrs. Prohack, who was completely and severely dressed.  She put down the tray and kissed her husband not as usual, but rather in the manner of a Roman matron, and Mr. Prohack divined that something had happened.

“I hope Brool hasn’t dropped down dead,” said he, realising the foolishness of his facetiousness as he spoke.

Eve seemed to be pained.

“Have you slept better?” she asked, solicitous.

“I have slept so well that there’s probably something wrong with me,” said he.  “Heavy sleep is a symptom of several dangerous diseases.”