one the less
afraid.

CHAPTER V

THE LOOKER-ON

"I think that it should be remembered that he is young," said Bertrand,
"also that he has been punished enough severely already."

He leaned back in an easy-chair with a cigarette which he had suffered to
go out between his fingers, and watched Mordaunt pacing up and down.

Mordaunt made no pretence of smoking. He walked to and fro with his hands
behind him, his brows drawn in thought, his mouth very grim.

"My good fellow, he will have forgotten all that by to-morrow," he said,
with a faint, hard smile. "I know these Wyndhams."

"I also," said Bertrand quietly.

Mordaunt glanced at him. "Well?"

The Frenchman hesitated momentarily. "I think," he said, "that you will
find them more easy to lead than to drive."

Mordaunt's frown deepened. "They are all so hopelessly lawless, so
utterly unprincipled. As for lying, this boy at least thinks nothing of
it."

"Ah, that is detestable, that!" Bertrand said. "But he would not lie to
you unless you made him afraid, _hein_?"

"He lies whenever it suits his purpose," Mordaunt said. "He would have
lied about the speed of the motor if I would have listened to him. But it
is his disobedience I am dealing with now. If I don't give that boy the
sound thrashing he deserves for defying my orders, he will never obey me
again."

Bertrand's eyes, very bright and vigilant, opened a little. "But
Christine!" he said.

"Yes, I know." Mordaunt came to a sudden halt. "Chris also must learn
that when I say a thing I mean it," he said.

"Without doubt," the Frenchman conceded gravely. "But that is not all
that you want. And surely it would be better to be a little lenient to
her brother than to alienate her confidence from yourself."

He spoke impressively, so impressively that Mordaunt turned and looked at
him with close attention. Several seconds passed before, very quietly, he
spoke.

"What makes you say this to me, Bertrand?"

"Because you are my friend," Bertrand answered.

"And you think my wife is afraid of me?"

Bertrand's eyes met his with the utmost directness. "I think that she
might very easily become afraid."

Mordaunt looked at him for several seconds longer, then deliberately
pulled up a chair, and sat facing him.

"In Heaven's name, Bertrand, why?" he said.

Bertrand made a quick gesture, almost as if he would have checked the
question, but when it was uttered he sat in silence.

"You can't tell