“Not yet, dear fellow.  I’m wanting you myself.”

“You!” The thin lips began to smile.  “That’s real magnanimous of you.  But—­thanks all the same—­I’m not taking any.  You have the mater and Bertie and Anne Carfax to bolster you up.  I guess I’m not essential.”

“And I guess you can do more for me than any one of them,” Lucas made quiet reply.  “P’r’aps you’ll think me a selfish brute to say so, but I need you badly.  You’re like a stimulating drug to me.  You pick me up when I’m down.  There is no one can help me in the same way.”

“You wouldn’t get Capper to say ‘Amen’ to that,” remarked Nap.

“Capper is no oracle out of his own sphere.  Besides,” there was almost a note of pleading in Lucas’s voice, “I know what I want better than he can tell me.”

“True, very true!” Nap was smiling somewhat grimly.  “And doubtless your wish is law.  But it doesn’t follow that you always desire what is best for yourself.  Hadn’t you better consult the queen before you admit the wasp to the hive?”

“You’re too fond of talking in parables, my son,” protested Lucas, frowning slightly.  “My intelligence won’t stretch to it.”

“We’ll try another,” said Nap imperturbably.  “Do you think Anne Carfax would thank you for asking me to pull in the same boat?  Do you think she would second that request?  Because, if so, I beg to differ.”

He looked his brother full in the face as he said it, without the flicker of an eyelid.  Lucas’s frown deepened.  He lay in silence.

After a moment Nap went on.  “She may be ready to put up with it for your sake.  There’s nothing some women won’t do for a man they care for, and I take it she has your welfare next her heart.  But it’s rather much to ask of her.  You wouldn’t want to run the risk of frightening her away.”

Lucas was watching him gravely, his brows still drawn.  “Boney,” he said slowly at length, “I’d give a good deal to see into your soul.”

Nap smiled with a faint return of cynicism.  “Who’s talking in parables now?  Afraid I can’t show you what I haven’t got.”

Lucas passed the rejoinder by.  “What makes you conclude that I am more to her than—­any other man?”

“Circumstances,” said Nap.

“What circumstances?”

“Finding her installed here as one of the family for one.  Finding you pulling off the biggest deal of your life for another.  And other signs—­crowds of them—­that I can’t explain but that I can’t fail to notice when I’ve got my nose to the trail.  You needn’t be shy about it.  I’m just as pleased as you are.”

But Lucas’s face did not clear.  There followed a very decided pause.  Then, with an effort, very earnestly, he spoke.

“Nap, I don’t believe you’ll lie to me when I tell you that I’d rather die than be deceived.  I know you cared for her once.”

“I care for most women,” said Nap indifferently.  “What of that?  It’s the way I’m made, and I must say they don’t most of ’em seem to mind.”