What's Bred in the Bone

ng-room under the gabled roofs of Staple Inn, Holborn. It was as cosy a nook as any to be

Clifford could that moment have been transported from her gloomy prison in the Lavington tunnel to that cosy room at Staple Inn, Holborn, she would have started with surprise to find the young man who sat in the arm-chair was to all

handsomeness of a man of the world. His forehead was high; his lips were thin; his nose inclined toward the Roman pattern; his black moustache was carefully curled and twisted at th

t. James's Gazette for you, but forgot to give you it; I was so full of this new piece of mine. Been an accident this morning, I see, on the Gre

ith a graceful air of inborn courtesy to his younger companion. Everythin

s hands without attaching much importance

, a segment of the roof of the tunnel collapsed, under pressure of the dislocated rock on top, and bore down with enormous weight upon the carriages beneath it. The engine, tender, and four front waggons escaped unhurt; but the

e, and then took up the dog-eared "Bradshaw" that lay close by upon the little oak wr

town, you know-I heard from him on Saturday-and the bit he's now working at's in Chetwood Forest. He couldn't get lodgings at Chetwood itself, so he's put up for the present at th

went on, unconcerned. "I thought most likely Cyril wouldn't be t

hout being a sentimentalist-that one relation means a good deal in life to him. And Cyril and I are more to one another, of course, than most ordinary brothers." He bit his thumb. "Still, I can't imagine how he could possibly be there," he went on, glancing a

haps a little oftener than was quite inevitable. "You Warings are so absolute. I never knew any such fellows in my life as you are. You

with another, for the whole last fortnight. And it's a tooth that never ached with either of us before-this one, you see"-he lifted his lip with his forefinger-"the second on the lef

in his chair, with his violin in his lap; t

nterfoil to some other man's cheque! Just fancy being bound to do, and think, and speak, and wish as he does! Just fancy having to get a toothache, in the very sam

telegraph form he was already fillin

racters, as everybody else does, upon our father and mother and our remoter progenitors. Only being twins, and twins cast in very much the same sort of mould,

patience. The first was from Cyril. He tore it open in haste, and skimmed it through rapidly. Montague Nevitt meanwhile sat languid in his chair, s

tist. One of my teeth is troublesome; I suppose you've had the same; the second on the left from the one we've lost; been aching a fortnight. I want it stopped. But to-morrow I really CAN'T leave work. I've got well into the swing of s

eyes, and then remarked once more, without even looking up, "The same tooth lost, he says? You both had

on his holiday in the Orkneys. We both got toothache in the self-same tooth on the self-same night; and we both lay awake for hours in misery. Early in the morning we each of us got up-five hundred miles away from one another, remember-and as soon as we were dressed I wen

he said at last, after close reflection, "where such sympathy as that exists between two brothers, if Cy

in hand, looked down at his compani

nothing in the least mystical in the kind of sympathy that exists between Cyril and myself. It's all purely physical. We're very like one another. B

Nevitt suggested, with a gracefully appro

ike a clock wound up to strike certain hours. Accidents may happen, events may intervene, the clock may get smashed, and all may be prevented. But, bar accidents, it'll strike all right, under ordinary circumstances, when the hour arrives for it. Well, Cyril and I, as I always say, are like two clocks wound up at the same ti