little more assiduously? I see from the local paper that you are
still playing at two handicap. Now with your physique, I should have
thought you would have been a scratch player long before now."

"I play cricket, sir," the boy reminded him, a little impatiently, "and,
after all, there are other things in the world besides games."

Mr. Fentolin's long finger shot suddenly out. He was leaning a little
from his chair. His expression of gentle immobility had passed away. His
face was stern, almost stony.

"You have spoken the truth, Gerald," he said. "There are other things in
the world besides games. There is the real, the tragical side of
life, the duties one takes up, the obligations of honour. You have not
forgotten, young man, the burden you carry?"

The boy was paler, but he had drawn himself to his full height.

"I have not forgotten, sir," he answered bitterly. "Do I show any signs
of forgetting? Haven't I done your bidding year by year? Aren't I here
now to do it?"

"Then do it!" Mr. Fentolin retorted sharply. "When I am ready for you
to leave here, you shall leave. Until then, you are mine. Remember that.
Ah! this is Doctor Sarson who comes, I believe. That must mean that it
is five o'clock. Come in, Doctor. I am not engaged. You see, I am alone
with my dear niece and nephew. We have been having a little pleasant
conversation."

Doctor Sarson bowed to Esther, who scarcely glanced at him. He remained
in the background, quietly waiting.

"A very delightful little conversation," Mr. Fentolin concluded. "I have
been congratulating my nephew, Doctor, upon his wisdom in preferring the
quiet country life down here to the wearisome routine of a profession.
He escapes the embarrassing choice of a career by preferring to
devote his life to my comfort. I shall not forget it. I shall not be
ungrateful. I may have my faults, but I am not ungrateful. Run away
now, both of you. Dear children you are, but one wearies, you know, of
everything. I am going out. You see, the twilight is coming. The tide is
changing. I am going down to meet the sea."

His little carriage moved towards the door. The brother and sister
passed out. Esther led Gerald into the great dining-room, and from
there, through the open windows, out on to the terrace. She gripped his
shoulder and pointed down to the Tower.

"Something," she whispered in his ear, "is going to happen there."

CHAPTER XI

The little station at which Hamel alighte