take any sacrifices," he said. "I may be a selfish brute, but I'm not
quite such a swine as that. You care for her."

"Which fact is beside the point," said Max. His fingers suddenly
answered Noel's grip with the strength of a restraining force. "If there
is any sacrifice anywhere," he said, "it's not offered to you, so make
your mind easy on that head. As I said before, she won't have me at any
price. If she would, I shouldn't be here now. You see," again his mouth
twisted, "I'm not so ultra-generous myself. But I don't see why we
should both be losers, especially as you had half won her before I came
along. So go ahead and good luck to you!"

He disengaged his hand and lightly slapped Noel's shoulder as a
preliminary to taking his departure. But Noel, with a swift return to
boyhood, caught him by the arms. "I don't know what to say to you, old
chap," he said, quick feeling in the words. "You've made me feel like a
murderer."

"My dear chap, what rot!"

"No, it's not rot! I've hated you like the devil. I'm beastly
ashamed--beastly sorry. I'll do anything to atone--anything under the
sun. Give me something to do for you, Max, old boy! I can't stand myself
if you go like this."

He spoke impulsively enough, but there was more than mere impulse in his
speech. Hot-headed repentance it might be, but it was the real thing.

Max stood still, faintly smiling. "My dear lad, there's nothing you can
do for me that you won't do twice as well for yourself," he said. "I'm
glad you care for her, and I'm not sorry you hated me for getting in
your way. You might let me know when it's time to congratulate. That's
all I can think of at the present moment--except, yes, one thing!"

"What?" said Noel.

Max's face hardened somewhat. "That fellow Hunt-Goring," he said. "He's
the chap I told you of. Keep clear of him!"

Noel stiffened. "I should like to kill him," he said.

"Yes, but you can't. He's more than a match for you. He once had some
hold over Olga--something very slight. I never bothered to find out
what. But she has broken away and he is an enemy in consequence. Watch
out for him, but don't fall foul of him! He won't worry you for long. He
is taking opium enough to kill an ox every day of his life."

"Is he though? Well, no one will weep for him."

"Unless it's Mrs. Musgrave," observed Max drily.

"She doesn't like the bounder," declared Noel with conviction. "Look
here; sit down again! I've seen nothing of you yet."