David luckily grasped his friend’s intention.  Such information as he possessed must wait until they were alone.  “How d’ye do, Bob?” he said, frankly holding out his hand.  “Why have you left us alone all those years, to turn up at last in this queer way?”

The young man’s kind greeting, his manly attitude, had an unlooked-for effect.

Robert ignored the proffered hand.  He reached for his hat.

“I feel like a beastly interloper,” he growled huskily.  “Accept my apologies, Margaret, and you, Miss Layton.  I will call in the morning.  Mr. Brett, if you still hold to your offer, I will await you at the lodge, or any other place you care to name.”

With blazing eyes, and mouth firmly set, he endeavoured to reach the open window.  Brett barred his way.

“Sit down, man,” he said sternly.  “Why are you such a fool as to resist the kindness offered to you?  I tried to make matters easy for you.  Now I must speak plainly.  You are weak with hunger.”

He had seen what the others had missed.  The colour in Robert’s face was due to exposure, but he was otherwise drawn and haggard.  His clothes were shabby.  He had walked from Stowmarket because he could not afford to hire any means of conveyance.

The abject confession compelled by Brett’s words was too much for him.  He again collapsed into a chair and covered his face with his hands.

CHAPTER XVI

THE COUSINS

Brett was the only person present who kept his senses.  Margaret was too shocked, the lovers too amazed, to speak coherently.

“Mr. Hume-Frazer has allowed himself to become run down,” said the barrister, with the nonchalance of one who discussed the prospects of to-morrow’s weather.  “What he needs at the moment is some soup and a few biscuits.  You, Mrs. Capella, might procure these without bringing the servants here, especially if Miss Layton were to help you.”

Without a word, the two ladies quitted the room.

Robert looked up.

“You ring like good metal,” he said to the barrister.  “Is there any liquor in the dining-room?  I feel a trifle hollow about the belt.  A drink would do me good.”

“Not until you have eaten something first,” was the firm answer.  “Are you so hard up that you could not buy food?”

“Well, the fact is, I have been on my beam ends during the past week.  To-day I pawned a silver watch, but unfortunately returned to my lodgings, where my landlady made such a fiendish row about the bill that I gave her every penny.  Then I pawned my overcoat, raising the exact fare to Stowmarket.  I could not even pay for a ’bus from Gower Street to Liverpool Street.  All I have eaten to-day was a humble breakfast at 8.30 a.m., and I suppose the sun and the journey wore me out.  Still, you must be jolly sharp to see what was the matter.  I thought I kept my end up pretty well.”