And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about
fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather,
my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as
a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an
exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in
Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through
Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India,
and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling
stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss,
Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his
idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came
of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I
am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as
Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not
pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had
the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is
not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her
spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert,
anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a
dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he
really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are
irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear
Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear
uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to
know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the
Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am
the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away
like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to
understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that
probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not
know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our
anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to
_know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of
thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we
should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment
and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper
without hope! * * * * *

To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the
whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a
letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to
him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when
he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only
gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to
every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we
shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which
is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS,
                                                      _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR,

    I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter
    from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by
    the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He
    further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de
    Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in
    London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the
    late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his
    instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised,
    and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on
    being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by
    cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of
    London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to
    postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of
    the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office
    on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir,
                                                         Yours faithfully,
                                                     EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ.,
                                                                 HUMCROFT,
                                                                    SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD,
                                                            _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as
    arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr.
Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this
Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say
anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She
_did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been
red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of
the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure
person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear
the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to
be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience
when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some
time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and
down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to
town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She
would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her
separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would
not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any
time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind,
for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour
before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and
a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very
creditable connection to look at, I thought!