finished he asked me these questions again and again. He thrashed the
whole story over, all but the essential part. He leaned back in his
chair and stared at the ceiling. Henderson in want? To think of his
brother in want and he so willing to share with him the fruits of his
enormous prosperity. Henderson going afoot to Tibet? What a man he
was! That was just the kind of thing he would do--some wild chase like
that. And the South Seas? How I should like to hear him tell about
them, David! He will come back--he has promised--in two years. He
will fail. Poor old Hendry always fails, but it will be good to have
him--he in that chair, I in this--and to hear him talk of it all.

So always was the essential fact missed. I was angry with Rufus
Blight. I wanted to shake him, to shout into his ear, to drive into
his dull brain the real purpose of my story. But I held my temper and
reverted to the fight with quiet but meaning emphasis.

"Hendry was always a handy man with his fists, David," said Rufus
Blight. "In his younger days he was hard to arouse, but get him angry
and he was the devil himself. He wasn't afraid of anything. It was
just like him to start alone to Lhasa--just like him, David."

I had begun to suspect that Rufus Blight was not so obtuse as I judged
him, but was passing over that part of my story which had to do with
Talcott, because he really liked Talcott and was inclined to lighten
the shadow which his conduct that night had thrown on his exemplary
character. I had told him all. I had repeated the exact words which
the Professor had given me as the cause of the assault, and now in his
brother's mind they were lost in a rapt interest in his adventures. If
with design, then my mission had been futile, and it was wisdom to
retreat. If without design, I could not bring myself to the role of a
prosecutor, and to argue was to tread on dangerous ground. I had done
what I believed right. I had kept my promise. So I rose to go. I
must have given Rufus Blight a strange look as I held out my hand. I
was furious at him for his obtuseness or his cunning, and I must have
shown it, for he returned my gaze with a puzzled stare. Then a gleam
of light filtered into that brain, so competent to deal with
steel-works, so hopelessly dull on other matters.

"David," he said, "you have delayed a long time in telling me this.
Now, why?"

I answered him, speaking no longer in cold, business-like tones.