end of the passage, his fingers
fumbling at the latch when suddenly he remembered that he had no candle.
There was no candle to be had! The only one available downstairs was the
one Dick had taken into the dining-room. He could not go upstairs again
to get another. He had no matches wherewith to explore the kitchen. He
stood struck motionless by this fresh problem.

But Dicky was doubtless asleep or he must have heard those creaking
stairs! Then there was still a chance. He might creep into the room and
take the candle without waking him. He was gaining confidence by the
prolonged silence. Dicky must certainly be fast asleep.

With considerably greater steadiness than he had yet achieved he returned
to the open door and peeped stealthily in.

Yes, Dick was there. He had flung himself down at the table on which he
had set the candle, and he was lying across it with his head on his arms.
Asleep of course! That could be the only explanation of such an attitude.
Yet Robin in the act of advancing, stopped in sudden doubt with a scared
backward movement, his eyes upon one of Dick's hands that was clenched
convulsively and quivering as if he were in pain. It certainly did not
look like the hand of a man asleep.

The next moment Robin's ungainly form had knocked against the door-handle
and Dick was sitting upright looking at him. His face was grey, he looked
unutterably tired, his mouth had the stark grimness of the man who
endures, asking nothing of Fate.

"Hullo, boy!" he said. "Why aren't you in bed?" Then seeing Robin's
unmistakably hang-dog air, "Oh, I forgot! Go on upstairs! I'm coming."

Robin turned about like a kicked dog. But the driving force stopped him
on the threshold. He stood a second or two, then turned again with a
species of sullen courage.

"May I have the candle?" he said, not looking at Dick.

"What for?" said Dick. "Haven't you got one upstairs?"

Robin stood a moment or two debating with himself, then made a second
movement to go. "All right. I'll fetch it."

"Wait a minute!" Dick's voice compelled. "What do you want a candle down
here for?"

Robin backed against the door-post with a kind of heavy defiance. "Want
to get something--out of the kitchen," he muttered.

"What do you want to get?" said Dick.

Robin was silent, stubbornly, insistently silent, the fingers of one hand
working with agitated activity.

"Robin!"

It was the voice of authority. He had to respond to it. He made a
lu