“He’s a scoundrel!” said the General, with sudden vehemence.

“He is, sir!”

“I will go and see Norman.  I see by the papers he is in some trouble.”

“I fear he is, sir.  His bank has been declining.”

“Perhaps you can help him?” His face lit up.  “You remember, he once wrote you—­a long time ago?”

“I remember; I have repaid that,” said Keith, quickly.  “He has treated me very badly.”  He gave a brief account of the trouble between them.

The old General leant back and looked at his son intently.  His face was very grave and showed that he was reflecting deeply.

“Gordon,” he said presently, “the Devil is standing very close to you.  A real misunderstanding should always be cleared up.  You must go to him.”

“What do you mean, sir?” asked his son, in some confusion.

“You are at the parting of the ways.  A gentleman cannot hesitate.  Such a debt never can be paid by a gentleman,” he said calmly.  “You must help him, even if you cannot restore the old place.  Elphinstone has gone for a debt before.”  He rose as if there was nothing more to be said.  “Well, I will go and wait for you at your rooms.”  He walked out.

Keith sat and reflected.  How different he was from his father!  How different from what he had been years ago!  Then he had had an affection for the old home and all that it represented.  He had worked with the idea of winning it back some day.  It had been an inspiration to him.  But now it was wealth that he had begun to seek.

It came to him clearly how much he had changed.  The process all lay before him.  It had grown with his success, and had kept pace with it in an almost steady ratio since he had set success before him as a goal.  He was angry with himself to find that he was thinking now of success merely as Wealth.  Once he had thought of Honor and Achievement, even of Duty.  He remembered when he had not hesitated to descend into what appeared the very jaws of death, because it seemed to him his duty.  He wondered if he would do the same now.

He felt that this was a practical view which he was now taking of life.  He was now a practical man; yes, practical like old Kestrel, said his better self.  He felt that he was not as much of a gentleman as he used to be.  He was further from his father; further from what Norman was.  This again brought Norman to his mind.  If the rumors which he had heard were true, Norman was now in a tight place.

As his father had said, perhaps he might be able to help him.  But why should he do it?  If Norman had helped him in the past, had he not already paid him back?  And had not Norman treated him badly of late without the least cause—­met his advances with a rebuff?  No; he would show him that he was not to be treated so.  He still had a small account in Norman’s bank, which he had not drawn out because he had not wished to let Norman see that he thought enough of his coldness to make any change; but he would put his money now into old Creamer’s bank.  After looking at his drafts again, he unlocked his door and went out on the street.