th looked so exceedingly miserable that Radowitz, surveying them
with mollified astonishment, suddenly went into a fit of hysterical
laughter. The others watched him in alarm.

"Do sit down, you fellows!--and don't bother!" said Radowitz, as soon as
he could speak. "I gave it to you both as hard as I could in my speech.
And you hit back. We're quits. Shake hands."

And he held out his left hand, which each of them gingerly shook. Then
they both sat down, extremely embarrassed, and not knowing what to say
or do next, except that Meyrick again enquired as to Fanning's opinion.

"Let's have some swell down," said Meyrick urgently. "We could get him
in a jiffy."

But Radowitz impatiently dismissed the subject. Sorell, he said, had
gone to see Fanning, and it would be all right. At the same time it was
evident through the disjointed conversation which followed that he was
suffering great pain. He was alternately flushed and deadly pale, and
could not occasionally restrain a groan which scared his two companions.
At last they got up to go, to the relief of all three.

Meyrick said awkwardly:

"Falloden's awfully sorry too. He would have come with us--but he
thought perhaps you wouldn't want him."

"No, I don't want him!" said Radowitz vehemently. "That's another
business altogether."

Meyrick hummed and hawed, fidgeting from one foot to the other.

"It was I started the beastly thing," he said at last. "It wasn't
Falloden at all."

"He could have stopped it," said Radowitz shortly. "And you can't deny
he led it. There's a long score between him and me. Well, never mind, I
shan't say anything. And nobody else need. Good-bye."

A slight ghostly smile appeared in the lad's charming eyes as he raised
them to the pair, again holding out his free hand. They went away
feeling, as Meyrick put it, "pretty beastly."

* * * * *

By the afternoon various things had happened. Falloden, who had not got
to bed till six, woke towards noon from a heavy sleep in his Beaumont
Street "diggings," and recollecting in a flash all that had happened,
sprang up and opened his sitting-room door. Meyrick was sitting on the
sofa, fidgeting with a newspaper.

"Well, how is he?"

Meyrick reported that the latest news from Marmion was that Sorell and
Fanning between them had decided to take Radowitz up to town that
afternoon--for the opinion of Sir Horley Wood, the great surgeon.

"Have you seen Sorell?"