xactly how deeply the
iron had pierced. But that some sort of wound had been inflicted he could
not doubt. It might be merely a superficial one, but he feared that it
was something more than that. There was a queer, intangible species of
mockery in Piers' attitude, as though he set the whole world at defiance.

And yet he did not look like a man who had been stunned by an unexpected,
sledge-hammer blow of Fate. He was keenly, fiercely alive to his
surroundings. He seemed to be gibing rather at a blow that had glanced
aside. Uneasily Crowther wondered.

It was he who finally suggested a move. It was growing late.

"So it is!" said Piers. "You ought to be turning in if you really mean to
make an early start."

He stood still in the hall and held out his hand. "Good-night, old chap!
I'm not going up at present."

"You'd better," said Crowther.

"No, I can't. I couldn't possibly turn in yet." He thrust his hand upon
Crowther. "Good-night! I shall see you in the morning."

Crowther took the hand. The hall was deserted. They stood together under
a swinging lamp, and by its flaring light Crowther sought to read his
companion's face.

For a moment or two Piers refused to meet his look, then with sudden
stubbornness he raised his eyes and stared back. They shone as black and
hard as ebony.

"Good-night!" he said again.

Crowther's level brows were slightly drawn. His hand, square and strong,
closed upon Piers' and held it.

For a few seconds he did not speak; then: "I don't know that I feel like
turning in yet either, sonny," he said deliberately.

Piers made a swift movement of impatience. His eyes seemed to grow
brighter, more grimly hard.

"I'm afraid I must ask you to excuse me in any case," he said. "I'm going
up to see if my grandfather has all he wants."

It was defiantly spoken. He turned with the words, almost wresting his
hand free, and strode away towards the lift.

Reaching it, some sense of compunction seemed to touch him for he looked
back over his shoulder with an abrupt gesture of farewell.

Crowther made no answering sign. He stood gravely watching. But, as
the lift shot upwards, he turned aside and began squarely to ascend
the stairs.

When Piers came out of his room ten minutes later with a coat over his
arm he came face to face with him in the corridor. There was a certain
grimness apparent about Crowther also by that time. He offered no
explanation of his presence, although quite obviou