What jolly days they were! It's a pity they are all dead."
They went through the French window into the drawing-room, and found that Lady Tintagel had already gone upstairs. Archie stood by Jessie, shifting from one foot to the other, in evident impatience at her lingering.
"Well, you'll be wanting to go to bed," he said. "I daresay you'll go in and have a talk with my mother. And, do you know, my father's waiting for me; I think I'll join him. I shall soon come upstairs, I expect. I feel rather like writing to-night."
"I'm glad you're going on with that," she said. "That's something left, isn't it? The house isn't quite empty, Archie."
He laughed.
"No, I can trace my name in the dust on the window-panes," he said. "But I'll go to my father. Good-night, Jessie."
Lord Tintagel, rather unusually, was deep in the evening paper when Archie entered. Archie noticed, with some surprise, that his glass still stood untouched on the tray.
"Rather nasty news," he said, not looking up. "Give me my drink, Archie, there's a good fellow. Plenty of ice and not much soda."
"And what's the news?" asked Archie.
"Well, it looks as if there might really be trouble brewing. Servia has appealed to Russia against the Austrian ultimatum. I wonder if Germany can really be at the bottom of it all. And the city takes a gloomy view of it. All Russian securities are heavily down."
"Does that affect you?" asked Archie, bringing him his drink.
"Yes, I've got a big account open in them. I
