ng."

"Why wasn't I told of that?" Lucas opened his eyes with the question and
looked directly at his brother's worried countenance.

"My dear fellow, you were too sick to be bothered. Besides, you were
taking morphia. He saw to that."

Lucas closed his eyes again without comment, A long pause ensued before
he spoke again.

Then: "Bertie," he said, "go down to the garage and leave word that as
soon as Nap returns I want to speak to him."

"He won't return," said Bertie, with conviction.

"I think he will. It is even possible that he has returned already. In
any case, go and tell them. Ah, Tawny, what is it?"

The valet came to his master's side. His hideous features wore an
expression that made them almost benign. The dumb devotion of an animal
looked out of his eyes.

"A note, sir, from the Manor."

"Who brought it?" asked Lucas.

"A groom, sir."

"Waiting for an answer?"

"Yes, sir."

Lucas opened the note. It was from Anne.

He read a few lines, then glanced at Bertie. "It's all right, Bertie. Go
and give that message, will you? Say it's important--an urgent matter of
business."

Bertie departed, and Lucas's eyes returned to the sheet he held.

Tawny Hudson stood motionless beside him, and several silent seconds
ticked away. His master spoke at length.

"Pen and paper, Tawny. Yes, that's right. Now put your arm behind the
pillows and give me a hoist. Slowly now, slowly!"

And then, as the man supported him, very slowly and unsteadily he traced
a few words.

"Don't worry. All's well.--Lucas."

Abruptly the pen fell from his fingers; his head dropped back. His face
was drawn and ghastly as he uttered a few gasping whispers. "Tawny, give
me something--quick! This pain is--killing me!"

The man lowered him again, and took a bottle from a side-table. As he
measured some drops into a glass the only sound in the room was his
master's agonised breathing.

Yet he knew without turning that someone had entered, and he betrayed no
surprise when Nap's hand suddenly whisked the glass from his hold and
held it to the panting lips.

CHAPTER XIV

THE IRRESISTIBLE

The first words Lucas uttered when utterance became possible to him were,
"No morphia!"

Nap was deftly drawing away the pillows to ease his position. "All right,
old fellow," he made answer. "But you know you can't sit up when you are
like this. What possessed you to try?"

"Business," murmured Lucas. "Don't go again, Boney. I