matics and astronomy. Wanted to stick a telescope through the attic roof, but the Mater drew the line. He's an unhealthy beggar, too. I tell him he doesn't get enough fresh air, but you see his attitude toward me. Thinks I'm weak-minded because I play golf."
"What were the spells you spoke about?" asked Vance. "Your brother looks as if he might be epileptic."
"Oh, no; nothing like that; though I've seen him have convulsive seizures when he got in a specially violent tantrum. He gets excited easily and flies off the handle. Von Blon says it's hyperneurasthenia—whatever that is. He goes ghastly pale when he's worked up, and has a kind of trembling fit. Says things he's sorry for afterward. Nothing serious, though. What he needs is exercise—a year on a ranch roughing it, without his infernal books and compasses and T-squares."
"I suppose he's more or less a favorite with your mother." (Vance's remark recalled a curious similarity of temperament betwen the two I had felt vaguely as Rex talked.)
"More or less." Chester nodded ponderously. "He's the pet in so far as the Mater's capable of petting any one but herself. Anyway, she's never ragged Rex as much as the rest of us."
Again Vance went to the great window above the East River, and stood looking out. Suddenly he turned.
"By the by, Mr. Greene, did you find your revolver?" His tone had changed; his ruminative mood had gone.
Chester gave a start, and cast a swift glance at Heath, who had now become attentive.
