The Knave of Diamonds Part 12

Sir Giles neither looked at him nor spoke. He continued to glare heavily into s.p.a.ce.

Dimsdale paused beside him. "A messenger has just come from Baronmead in their motor, Sir Giles," he said, speaking very distinctly. "Her ladys.h.i.+p has had a fall, and has been taken there. Mr. Errol begs that you will go back in the motor, as her ladys.h.i.+p's condition is considered serious."

He stopped. Sir Giles said nothing whatever.

"The messenger is waiting, Sir Giles."

Still no response of any sort.

Dimsdale waited a moment, then very respectfully he bent and touched his master's shoulder.

"Sir Giles!"

Sir Giles turned slowly at last, with immense effort it seemed. He glowered at Dimsdale for a s.p.a.ce. Then, "Bring some brandy and water," he said, "hot!"

"But the messenger, Sir Giles!"

"What?" Sir Giles glared a moment longer, then as anger came uppermost, the smouldering furnace leapt into sudden seething flame. "Tell him to go to the devil!" he thundered. "And when you've done that, bring me some brandy and water--hot!"

As Dimsdale departed upon his double errand he dropped back into his former position, staring dully before him, under scowling brows.

When Dimsdale returned he was sunk in the chair asleep.

CHAPTER IX

THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE

"Hullo, Lucas! Can I come in?"

Nap Errol stood outside his brother's door, an impatient frown on his face, his hand already fidgeting at the handle.

"Come in, old chap," drawled back a kindly voice.

He entered with an abruptness that seemed to denote agitation.

The room was large and brilliantly lighted. In an easy chair by the fire the eldest Errol was reclining, while his valet, a huge man with the features of an American Indian half-breed and fiery red hair, put the finis.h.i.+ng touches to his evening dress.

Nap approached the fire with his usual noiseless tread despite the fact that he was still in riding boots.

"Be quick, Hudson!" he said. "We don't want you."

Hudson rolled a nervous eye at him and became clumsily hasty.

"Take your time," his master said quietly. "Nap, my friend, hadn't you better dress?"

Nap stopped before the fire and pushed it with his foot. "I am not going to dine," he said.

Lucas Errol said no more. He lay still in his chair with his head back and eyes half-closed, a pa.s.sive, pathetic figure with the shoulders of a strong man and the weak, shrunken limbs of a cripple. His face was quite smooth. It might have belonged to a boy of seventeen save for the eyes, which were deeply sunken and possessed the shrewd, quizzical intelligence of age.

He lay quite motionless as though he were accustomed to remain for hours in one position. Hudson the valet tended him with the reverence of a slave. Nap fell to pacing soundlessly to and fro, awaiting the man's exit with what patience he could muster.

"You can go now, Tawny," the elder Errol drawled at last. "I will ring when I want you. Now, Boney, what is it? I wish you would sit down."

There was no impatience in the words, but his brows were slightly drawn as he uttered them,

Nap, turning swiftly, noted the fact. "You are not so well to-night?"

"Sit down," his brother repeated gently. "How is Lady Carfax?"

Nap sat down with some reluctance. He looked as if he would have preferred to prowl.

"She is still unconscious, and likely to remain so. The doctor thinks very seriously of her."

"Her husband has been informed?"

"Her husband," said Nap from between his teeth, "has been informed, and he declines to come to her. That's the sort of brute he is."

Lucas Errol made no comment, and after a moment Nap continued:

"It is just as well perhaps. I hear he is never sober after a day's sport. And I believe she hates the sight of him if the truth were told--and small wonder!"

There was unrestrained savagery in the last words. Lucas turned his head and looked at him thoughtfully.

"You know her rather well?" he said.

"Yes." Nap's eyes, glowing redly, met his with a gleam of defiance.

"You have known her for long?" The question was perfectly quiet, uttered in the tired voice habitual to this man who had been an invalid for almost the whole of his manhood.

Yet Nap frowned as he heard it. "I don't know," he said curtly. "I don't estimate friends.h.i.+ps by time."

Lucas said no more, but he continued to look at his brother with unvarying steadiness till at length, as if goaded thereto, Nap spoke again.

"We are friends," he said, "no more, no less. You all think me a blackguard, I know. It's my speciality, isn't it?" He spoke with exceeding bitterness. "But in this case you are wrong. I repeat--we are friends."

He said it aggressively; his tone was almost a challenge, but the elder Errol did not appear to notice.

"I have never thought you a blackguard, Boney," he said quietly.

Nap's thin lips smiled cynically. "You have never said it."

"I have never thought it." There was no contradicting the calm a.s.sertion.

It was not the way of the world to contradict Lucas Errol. "And I know you better than a good many," he said.

Nap stirred restlessly and was silent.