Piers drank in silence, Crowther steadily watching.

“You would have to be back by March,” he said presently.

“What?” said Piers.

It was like a protest, the involuntary startled outcry of the patient under the probe.  Crowther’s hand grasped his more closely.  “I’ll go with you on that understanding, Piers,” he said.  “You’ll be wanted then.”

Piers groaned.  “If it hadn’t been for—­that,” he said, “I’d have ended the whole business with a bullet before now.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” said Crowther quietly.  “You don’t know yourself, boy, when you talk like that.  You’ve given up Parliament for the present?”

“For good,” said Piers.  He paused, as if bracing himself for a great effort.  “I went to Colonel Rose yesterday and told him I must withdraw.  He had heard the rumours of course, but he advised me to hold on.  I told him—­I told him—­” Piers stopped and swallowed hard, then forced himself on,—­“I told him there was truth in it, and then—­he let me go.”

There fell a painful silence, broken by Crowther.  “How did this rumour get about?”

“Oh, that was at Ina Rose’s wedding.”  Piers’ words came more freely now, as if the obstruction were passed.  “A cousin of Guyes’, the bridegroom, was there.  He came from Queensland, had been present that night when I fought and killed Denys, and he recognized me.  Then—­he got tight and told everybody who would listen.  It was rotten luck, but it had to happen.”  He paused momentarily; then:  “I wasn’t enjoying myself, Crowther, before it happened,” he said.

“I saw that, sonny.”  Crowther’s arm pressed his shoulder in sympathy.  It was characteristic of the man to display understanding rather than pity.  He stood ever on the same level with his friends, however low that level might be.

Again Piers looked at him as if puzzled by his attitude.  “You’ve done me a lot of good,” he said abruptly.  “You’ve made me see myself as you don’t see me, dear old fellow, and never would.  Well, I’m going.  Thanks awfully!”

He made as if he would rise, but Crowther restrained him.  “No, lad.  I’m not parting with you for to-night.  We’ll send round for your traps.  I’ll put you up.”

“What?  No, no, you can’t!  I shall be all right.  Don’t worry about me!”

Piers began to make impulsive resistance, but Crowther’s hold only tightened.

“I’m not parting with you to-night,” he reiterated firmly.  “And look here, boy!  You’ve come to me for help, and, to the best of my ability, I’ll help you.  But first,—­are you sure you are justified in leaving home?  Are you sure you are not wanted?”

“Wanted!  I!” Piers looked at him from under eye-lids that quivered a little.  “Yes,” he said, after a moment, with a deliberation that sounded tragically final.  “I am quite sure of that, Crowther.”

Crowther asked no more.  He patted Piers’ shoulder gently and rose.