“I am afraid that I am a little dense,” Brooks remarked.

“I will not embarrass you with any explanation,” Lord Arranmore remarked.  “But all the same I am going to surprise you.  Do you know that I am very much interested in your experiment?”

Brooks raised his eyebrows.

“Indeed!”

“Yes, I am very much interested,” Lord Arranmore repeated.  “I should like you to understand that my views as to charity and charitable matters remain absolutely unaltered.  But at the same time I am anxious that you should test your schemes properly and unhampered by any pressure from outside.  You are all the sooner likely to grow out of conceit with them.  Therefore let me offer you a word of advice.  Publish your accounts, and sue Lavvy for a thousand pounds.”

Brooks was silent for a moment.

“My own idea,” he said, slowly, “was to take no notice of these attacks.  The offices where the financial part of our concern is managed are open to our subscribers at any time, and the books are there for their inspection.  It is only at the branches where we do not admit visitors.”

“You must remember,” Lord Arranmore said, “that these attacks have been growing steadily during the last few months.  It is, of course, no concern of mine, but if they are left unanswered surely your funds must suffer.”

“There have been no signs of it up to the present,” Brooks answered.  “We have large sums of money come in every day.”

“This worst attack,” Lord Arranmore remarked, “only appeared in this week’s Verity.  It is bound to have some effect.”

Brooks shrugged his shoulders.

“I do not fear it,” he answered, calmly.  “As a matter of fact, however, I am going to form a council to take the management of the financial organization.  It is getting too large a thing for me with all my other work.  Is there anything else you wished to say to me?”

The eyes of the two men met for a moment both unflinchingly.  Perhaps they were each searching for something they could not find.

“There is nothing else.  Don’t let me detain you.”

Brooks, who was the leaving guest, stepped quietly away, and Lord Arranmore calmly outstayed all the other callers.

“Your manners,” Lady Caroom told him, as the last of her guests departed, “are simply hoydenish.  Who told you that you might sit out all my visitors in this bare-faced way?”

“You, dear lady, or rather your manner,” he answered, imperturbably.  “It seemed to me that you were saying all the time, ’Do not desert me!  Do not desert me!’ And so I sat tight.”

“An imagination like yours,” she declared, “is positively unhealthy.  Arranmore, what an idiot you are.

“Well?”

“Oh, you know all about it—­and one hears!  Are you tired of your life?”

“Very, very tired of it!” he answered.  “Isn’t everybody?”

“Of course not.  Neither are you really.  It is only a mood.  Some day you will succeed in what you seem trying so hard to do, and then you will be sorry—­and perhaps some others!”