boy has been trying to
get me drunk long enough. Show him to his bedroom, and bring me my cloak
and pistols."

Brutus lifted one of the candlesticks, grinned at me, and nodded.

"A very good night to you, Henry," said my father tranquilly.

I bowed to him with courtesy which perhaps was intuitive.

"Be sure," I told him, "to keep your door locked, father."

"Pray do not worry," he replied. "I have thought out each phase of
my visit here too long for anything untoward to happen. Until
morning, Henry."

"I am not worrying," I rejoined. "Merely warning you--pardon my
incivility, father--but I might grow tired watching you be a bad example.
Did you consider that in your plans?"

My father yawned, and placed his feet nearer the coals.

"That is better," he said, "much better, my son. Now you are speaking
like a gentleman. I had begun to fear for you. It has seemed to me you
were almost narrow-minded. Never be that. Nothing is more annoying."

I drew myself up to my full height.

"Sir--" I began.

He slapped his hand on the table with an exclamation of disgust.

"And now you spoil it! Now you begin to rant and become heroic. I know
what you're going to say. You cannot see a woman bullied--what? Well, by
heaven, you can, and you will see it. You cannot stand an act of
treachery? Come, come, my son, you have better blood in you than to pose
as a low actor. All around us, every day, these things are happening.
Meet them like a man, and do not tell me what is obvious."

I felt my nails bite into my palms.

"Your pardon, father," I said. "I shall behave better in the future."

He glanced at me narrowly for a moment.

"I believe," he said, "we begin to understand. A very good night to you,
Henry. And Henry--"

A change in his tone made me spin about on my heel.

"I am going to pay you a compliment. Pray do not be overcome. I have
decided to consider you in my plans, my son, as a possible disturbing
factor. Brutus, you will take his pistols from his saddle bags."

In silence Brutus conducted me into the cold hall and up the winding
staircase, where his candle made the shadows of the newel posts dance
against the wainscot. I paused a moment at the landing to look back, but
I could see nothing in the dark pit of the hall below us. Was it possible
I could remember it alight with candles, whose flames made soft halos on
the polished floor? Brutus touched my shoulder, and the brusque grasp of
his hand turned me a