“You can’t wonder that I am fond of him, can you?” said my host, as we left the room, “especially when you consider that I have had the rearing of him.  It was no joke bringing him over from the centre of South America; but here he is safe and sound—­and, as I have said, far the most perfect specimen in Europe.  The people at the Zoo are dying to have him, but I really can’t part with him.  Now, I think that I have inflicted my hobby upon you long enough, so we cannot do better than follow Tommy’s example, and go to our lunch.”

My South American relative was so engrossed by his grounds and their curious occupants, that I hardly gave him credit at first for having any interests outside them.  That he had some, and pressing ones, was soon borne in upon me by the number of telegrams which he received.  They arrived at all hours, and were always opened by him with the utmost eagerness and anxiety upon his face.  Sometimes I imagined that it must be the Turf, and sometimes the Stock Exchange, but certainly he had some very urgent business going forwards which was not transacted upon the Downs of Suffolk.  During the six days of my visit he had never fewer than three or four telegrams a day, and sometimes as many as seven or eight.

I had occupied these six days so well, that by the end of them I had succeeded in getting upon the most cordial terms with my cousin.  Every night we had sat up late in the billiard-room, he telling me the most extraordinary stories of his adventures in America—­stories so desperate and reckless, that I could hardly associate them with the brown little, chubby man before me.  In return, I ventured upon some of my own reminiscences of London life, which interested him so much, that he vowed he would come up to Grosvenor Mansions and stay with me.  He was anxious to see the faster side of city life, and certainly, though I say it, he could not have chosen a more competent guide.  It was not until the last day of my visit that I ventured to approach that which was on my mind.  I told him frankly about my pecuniary difficulties and my impending ruin, and I asked his advice—­though I hoped for something more solid.  He listened attentively, puffing hard at his cigar.

“But surely,” said he, “you are the heir of our relative, Lord Southerton?”

“I have every reason to believe so, but he would never make me any allowance.”

“No, no, I have heard of his miserly ways.  My poor Marshall, your position has been a very hard one.  By the way, have you heard any news of Lord Southerton’s health lately?”

“He has always been in a critical condition ever since my childhood.”

“Exactly—­a creaking hinge, if ever there was one.  Your inheritance may be a long way off.  Dear me, how awkwardly situated you are!”

“I had some hopes, sir, that you, knowing all the facts, might be inclined to advance——­”

“Don’t say another word, my dear boy,” he cried, with the utmost cordiality; “we shall talk it over tonight, and I give you my word that whatever is in my power shall be done.”