nd mixed a drink with the utmost
steadiness. "Sit down," he said. "And now drink this, and pull yourself
together. There's nothing to be in a funk about, so take your time."

He spoke with authority, but his manner had the aloofness of one not
greatly interested in the matter in hand. He resented the boy's
intrusion, that was all.

Rupert accepted his hospitality in silence. This obvious lack of interest
increased his difficulties tenfold.

Mordaunt went back to his chair by the window, and relighted his pipe. He
knew he was being cold-blooded, but he felt absolutely incapable of
kindling any warmth. There seemed to be no warmth left in him.

Rupert gulped down his drink, and buried his face in his hands. He felt
that the thing he had come to do was beyond his power to accomplish. He
could not make his confession to a stone image. And yet he could not go,
leaving it unmade.

In the long pause that followed it almost seemed as if Mordaunt had
forgotten his presence in the room. The minutes ticked away, and he made
no sign.

At last, desperately, Rupert lifted his head. "Trevor!"

Mordaunt looked at him. Then, struck possibly by the misery of the boy's
attitude, he laid down his pipe and turned towards him.

"Well, what is it?"

Vehemently Rupert made answer. "For pity's sake, don't freeze me up like
this, man! I--I--oh, can't you give me a lead?" he broke off desperately.

"You see, I don't know in the least what you have come to say," Mordaunt
pointed out. "If it has anything to do with--recent events"--he spoke
with great distinctness--"I can only advise you to leave it alone, since
no remonstrance from you will make the smallest difference."

"But it hasn't," groaned Rupert. "At least, of course, it's in connection
with that. But I've come to try and tell you the truth--something you
don't know and never will know if I don't tell you. And--Heaven help
me!--I'm such a cur--I don't know how to get through with it."

That reached Mordaunt, stirring him to activity almost against his will.
He found himself unable to look on unmoved at his young brother-in-law's
distress. He left his chair and moved back to the table.

"I don't know what you've got to be afraid of," he said, with a touch of
kindliness in his tone that deprived it of its remoteness. "I'm not
feeling particularly formidable. What have you been doing?"

Rupert groaned again and covered his face. "You'll be furious enough
directly. But it's not