"Let's see the letter again," said Jack at last. "Where is it?"

Frank reflected.

"I think it's in that tobacco-jar just behind your head," he said. "No,
it isn't; it's in the pouch on the floor. I know I associated it somehow
with smoking. And, by the way, give me a cigarette."

Jack tossed him his case, opened the pouch, took out the letter, and
read it slowly through again.

"Merefield Court,
"near Harrogate.
"May 28th, _Thursday_.

"I am ashamed of you, sir. When you first told me of your
intention, I warned you what would happen if you persisted, and
I repeat it now. Since you have deliberately chosen, in spite
of all that I have said, to go your own way, and to become a
Papist, I will have no more to do with you. From this moment
you cease to be my son. You shall not, while I live, darken my
doors again, or sleep under my roof. I say nothing of what you
have had from me in the past--your education and all the rest.
And, since I do not wish to be unduly hard upon you, you can
keep the remainder of your allowance up to July and the
furniture of your rooms. But, after that, not one penny shall
you have from me. You can go to your priests and get them to
support you.