Part 55 (2/2)

He read it with a careless smile and tossed it over to Scott. ”Here is magnanimity,” he commented. ”Shall we accept the coals of fire?”

Scott read with all gravity and laid it down. ”If you want my opinion, I should say 'No,'” he said.

”Why would you say No?” There was a lazy challenge in the question, a provocative gleam in Sir Eustace's blue eyes.

Scott smiled a little. ”For one thing I shouldn't enjoy the coals of fire. For another, I shouldn't care to be at too close quarters with the beautiful Miss de Vigne again, if I had your very highly susceptible temperament. And for a third, I believe Isabel would prefer to stay at Great Mallowes.”

”You're mighty clever, my son, aren't you?” said Eustace with a supercilious twist of the lips. ”But--as it chances--not one of those excellent reasons appeals to me.”

”Very well then,” said Scott, with the utmost patience. ”It is up to you to accept.”

”Why should Isabel prefer Great Mallowes?” demanded Sir Eustace. ”She knows the de Vignes. It is far better for her to see people, and there is more comfort in a private house than in a hotel.”

”Quite so,” said Scott. ”I am sure she will fall in with your wishes in this respect, whatever they are. Will you write to Colonel de Vigne, or shall I?”

”You can--and accept,” returned Sir Eustace imperially.

Scott took a sheet of paper without further words.

His brother leaned back in his chair, his black brows slightly drawn, and contemplated him as he did it.

”By the way, Scott,” he said, after a moment, ”Dinah's staying here need not make any difference to you in any way. She can't expect to have you at her beck and call as she had in Switzerland. You must make that clear to her.”

”Very well, old chap.” Scott spoke without raising his head. ”You're going to meet her at the station, I suppose?”

”Almost immediately, yes.” Eustace got up with a movement of suppressed impatience. ”We shall have tea in Isabel's room. You needn't turn up.

I'll tell them to send yours in here.”

”Oh, don't trouble! I'm going to turn up,” very calmly Scott made rejoinder. He had already begun to write; his hand moved steadily across the sheet.

Sir Eustace's frown deepened. ”You won't catch the post with those letters if you do.”

Scott looked up at last, and his eyes were as steady as his hand had been. ”That's my business, old chap,” he said quietly. ”Don't you worry yourself about that!”

There was a hint of ferocity about Sir Eustace as he met that steadfast look. He stood motionless for a moment or two, then flung round on his heel. Scott returned to his work with the composure characteristic of him, and almost immediately the banging of the door told of his brother's departure.

Then for a second his hand paused; he pa.s.sed the other across his eyes with the old gesture of weariness, and a short, hard sigh came from him ere he bent again to his task.

Sir Eustace strode across the hall with the frown still drawing his brows. An open car was waiting at the door, but ere he went to it he turned aside and knocked peremptorily at another door.

He opened without waiting for a reply and entered a long, low-ceiled room through which the rays of the afternoon sun were pouring. Isabel, lying on a couch between fire and window, turned her head towards him.

”Haven't you started yet? Surely it is getting very late,” she said in her low, rather monotonous voice.

He came to her. ”I prefer starting a bit late,” he said. ”You will have tea ready when we return?”

<script>