Silence followed the words.  Lucas had closed his eyes, and there was nothing in his face to indicate the trend of his thoughts.

Nap sat with his face to the fire, and stared unblinkingly into the red depths.  There was no repose in his attitude, only the tension of suppressed activity.

Softly at length his brother’s voice came through the silence.  “Why not dine, dear fellow, while you are waiting?  You will do no good to anyone by starving yourself.”

Nap looked round.  “In Heaven’s name, don’t talk to me of eating!” he said savagely.  “You don’t know what I’ve been through.”  Again he paused to control himself, then added in a lower tone, “I thought she was dead, you know.”

“It was you who picked her up?” Lucas asked.

“Yes.  There was no one else near.”  He spoke with feverish rapidity, as though he found speaking a relief.  “It was the old chalk-pit.  You know the place—­or p’r’aps you don’t.  It’s a ten-foot drop.  The brute went clean over, and he must have rolled on her or kicked her getting up.”  He drew a sharp breath between his teeth.  “When I found her she was lying all crumpled up.  I thought her back was broken at first.”

A sudden shudder assailed him.  He repressed it fiercely.

“And then, you know, it was foggy.  I couldn’t leave her.  I was afraid of losing my bearings.  And so I just had to wait—­Heaven knows how long—­till one of the keepers heard me shouting, and went for help.  And all that time—­all that time—­I didn’t know whether she was alive or dead.”

His voice sank to a hard whisper.  He got up and vigorously poked the fire.

Lucas Errol endured the clatter for several seconds in silence:  then, “Boney,” he said, “since you are feeling energetic, you might lend me a hand.”

Nap laid down the poker instantly.  “I am sorry, old fellow.  I forgot.  Let me ring for Hudson.”

“Can’t you help me yourself?” Lucas asked.

Nap hesitated for a second; then stooped in silence to give the required assistance.  Lucas Errol, with a set face, accepted it, but once on his feet he quitted Nap’s support and leaned upon the mantelpiece to wipe his forehead.

“I knew I should hurt you,” Nap said uneasily.

The millionaire forced a smile that was twisted in spite of him.  “Never mind me!” he said.  “It is your affairs that trouble me just now, not my own.  And, Boney, if you don’t have a meal soon, you’ll be making a big fool of yourself and everyone will know it.”

The very gentleness of his speech seemed to make the words the more emphatic.  Nap raised no further protest.

“Go and have it right now,” his brother said.

“And—­in case I don’t see you again—­goodnight!”

He held out his hand, still leaning against the mantelpiece.  His eyes, blue and very steady, looked straight into Nap’s.  So for a second or two he held him while Nap, tight-lipped, uncompromising, looked straight back.