Alice shrugged her shoulders.

‘Then he’ll give up the estate, according to father.’

’Desmond would give it back to him, if there’s anything left of it, or if he wants it.’

‘Margaret!’

’You think I don’t care about the family—­that there should always be a Mannering of Mannering?  Yes, I do care, but there are so many other things now to care about,’ added Mrs. Strang slowly.

‘Who’s making me late now?’ said Alice, looking at her watch.

Margaret took the hint and departed.

* * * * *

That same evening, in the September dusk, a dog-cart arrived at the
Hall, bringing Major Mannering and a Gladstone bag.

Pamela and Desmond rushed out to meet him.  Their elder sisters were dressing for dinner, and the Squire was in the library with Elizabeth.  The twins dragged the newcomer into their own den, and shut the door upon him.  There Desmond gave him a breathless survey of the situation, while Pamela sat on a stool at his feet, and put in explanatory words at intervals.  Their father’s extraordinary preparations for waging war against the County Committee; his violence on the subject of the Chicksands; Beryl’s despairing letters to Pamela; a letter from Arthur Chicksands to Desmond,—­all these various items were poured out on the newcomer, with an eagerness and heat which showed the extreme interest which the twins took in the situation.

Meanwhile Aubrey Mannering sat listening almost in silence.  He was a delicately built, distinguished-looking man, who carried a large scar on his forehead, and had lost a finger of the left hand.  The ribbons on his breast showed that he was both an M.C. and a D.S.O.—­distinctions won at the second battle of Ypres and on the Somme.  While the twins talked, his eyes travelled from one to the other, attentive, but curiously aloof.

He was saying to himself that Pamela was extremely pretty, and Desmond a splendid fellow.  Then—­in a moment—­while he looked at his young brother, a vision, insistent, terrible, passed ghost-like between him and the boy.  Again and again he tried to shake it off, and again and again it interposed.

‘Oh, Aubrey, what will you do?’ said Pamela despairingly, leaning her head against her brother’s knee.

Her voice recalled him.  He laid his hand upon her beautiful hair.

’Well, dear, there’s only one thing, of course, for me to do—­to stick to Beryl and let father do his worst.’

‘Hurrah!’ said Desmond.  ’That’s all right.  And of course you know, Aubrey, that if father tries any hankey-pankey with the estate, and leaves it to me, I shall give it back to you next day.’

Aubrey smiled.  ’Father’ll live another twenty years, old man.  Will there be any England then, or any law, or any estates to leave?’

The twins looked at him in amazement.  Again he recovered himself quickly.