“Very good, sir,” said Holmes, without enthusiasm.  He never liked to retire before his master.

Mordaunt rose with a faint touch of impatience.  He expected to see Max, and wondered that the news of his arrival in town had reached him so quickly.  But it was Rupert who entered, and turned to satisfy himself that the door was shut before he advanced to greet his brother-in-law.

Mordaunt stood by the window and watched the precaution with a certain grim curiosity.  He fancied he could guess the reason of this midnight visitation, but as the boy came towards him and halted in the full light he saw that he was mistaken.  There was no indignant questioning visible on Rupert’s face.  It looked only grey and haggard and desperate.

“Look here,” he said, speaking jerkily, as if it were only by a series of tense efforts that he spoke at all.  “I’ve come to tell you something.  I don’t know how you’ll take it.  And I may as well admit—­that I’m horribly afraid.  Do you mind if I have a drink—­just to help me through?”

Mordaunt closed the window, and came quietly forward.  Just for a moment he fancied that Rupert had already fortified himself in the manner indicated for the ordeal of meeting him, and then again he realized that he was mistaken.  The eyes that looked into his were perfectly sane, but they held an almost childlike appeal that made his heart contract suddenly.  He bit his lip savagely.  Why on earth couldn’t the fellow have left him alone for this one night at least?

He forced himself to be temperate, but there was no warmth in his tone as he said, “I’ve no objection to your having a drink if you want it.  I suppose you’ve got into a scrape again, and want me to help you out?”

“No, it’s not that—­at least, not in the sense you mean.”

Hurriedly Rupert made answer.  He looked for a moment at the glasses on the table, but he did not attempt to help himself.  Suddenly he shivered.

“Ye gods!  What an infernal night!  I had to walk ever so far before I found a taxi.  I came up by the evening train—­couldn’t get off duty sooner.  I thought you would be off to Dover before I got here.  And I—­and I—­” He broke off blankly and became silent, as if he had forgotten what he had meant to say.

Mordaunt leaned over the table, and mixed a drink with the utmost steadiness.  “Sit down,” he said.  “And now drink this, and pull yourself together.  There’s nothing to be in a funk about, so take your time.”

He spoke with authority, but his manner had the aloofness of one not greatly interested in the matter in hand.  He resented the boy’s intrusion, that was all.

Rupert accepted his hospitality in silence.  This obvious lack of interest increased his difficulties tenfold.

Mordaunt went back to his chair by the window, and relighted his pipe.  He knew he was being cold-blooded, but he felt absolutely incapable of kindling any warmth.  There seemed to be no warmth left in him.