Rupert glanced at him sideways.  “Hullo!” he said softly.  “Beginning to size us up, are you?”

“I’m beginning to think”—­Mordaunt spoke with force—­“that your sense of honour is as much a minus quantity as your wealth.”

“Honour!” Rupert looked up in genuine astonishment.

“Yes, honour,” Mordaunt repeated grimly.  “Do you call it honourable to run up debts that you have no possibility of paying?”

Rupert turned crimson.  “Look here!  I’m not going to stay here to be insulted,” he said hotly.  “I haven’t asked for your help, and I’m damned if I’d take it if you offered it—­after that.”

He was on his feet with the words, but Mordaunt remained seated.  “You can do as you like,” he said quietly.  “If you choose to take offence, that is your affair.  I helped you before because I knew you were hard up and I was sorry for you.  But there is no occasion for you to be hard up now.  And I am not sorry for you this time.  I think you deserve to be kicked.”

“You be damned!” said Rupert fiercely.

Mordaunt’s brows went up.  He looked full into the boy’s heated face, and though he said no word Rupert turned slowly white under the look.  In the dead silence that followed he stood as tense as though he expected a blow.  Yet Mordaunt made no movement, spoke no word.

It was Rupert who broke the silence finally, broke it hurriedly, stammeringly, as though it had become unbearable.  “All right, old chap.  I didn’t mean quite that.  But you—­you shouldn’t badger me.  I’m not used to it.”

“Sit down,” Mordaunt said.

He obeyed awkwardly, and to cover his discomfiture took up his glass to drink.  But before it reached his lips Mordaunt spoke again.

“Rupert!”

He started a little, and again the liquid splashed over.

“Put that down!” Mordaunt said.

Again dumbly he obeyed.

Mordaunt leaned forward and drew the glass out of his reach.  “It has never been my intention to badger you,” he said.  “But I reserve to myself the privilege of telling you the truth.  That is the fourth drink I have seen you mix this afternoon.”

“I’m perfectly sober,” Rupert asserted quickly.

“Yes, I know.  But you are not as cool as you might be.”  Very keenly Mordaunt’s eyes surveyed him, but they were not without a hint of kindness notwithstanding.  “I mustn’t call you a young fool, I suppose,” he said, “but really you are not overwise.  Now, what about these affairs of yours?  Shall we go into them now or after tea?”

Rupert shrugged his shoulders sullenly.  “I don’t know that I care to go into them at all.”

The kindliness went out of Mordaunt’s eyes and a certain steeliness took its place.  “As you like,” he said.  “Only let it be clearly understood that I will have no borrowing from Chris. I have forbidden her to lend money to any one of you.  If you want it, you must come direct to me.”