ng the fact, he
did not understand Piers. He had expected a strenuous opposition to his
scheme. He had been prepared to do battle with the boy. But Piers had
refused the conflict. What was the fellow's game, he asked himself? Why
this prompt compliance with his wishes? He was not to be deceived into
the belief that he wanted to go. The attraction was too great for that.
Unless indeed--he looked across at the bent black head in sudden
doubt--was it possible that the boy had met with a check in the least
likely direction of all? Could it be that the woman's plans did not
include him after all?

No! No! That was out of the question. He knew women. A hard laugh rose to
his lips. If she had put a check upon Piers' advances it was not with the
ultimate purpose of stopping him. She knew what she was about too well
for that, confound her!

He stared at Piers who had wheeled suddenly from the fire at the sound of
the laugh. "Well?" he said irritably. "Well? What's the matter now?"

The eyes that countered his were hard, with just a hint of defiance. "You
laughed, sir," said Piers curtly.

"Well, what of it?" threw back Sir Beverley. "You're deuced suspicious. I
wasn't laughing at you."

"I know that," said Piers. He spoke deliberately, as one choosing his
words. His face was stern. "I don't want to know the joke if it's
private. But I should like to know how long you want to be away."

"How long? How the devil can I tell?" growled Sir Beverley. "Till I've
had enough of it, I suppose."

"Does it depend on that only?" said Piers.

Sir Beverley pushed back his chair with fierce impatience. "Oh, leave me
alone, boy, do! I'll let you know when it's time to come home again."

Piers came towards him. He halted with the light from the lamp full on
his resolute face. "If you are going to wait on Tudor's convenience," he
said, "you'll wait--longer than I shall."

"What the devil do you mean?" thundered Sir Beverley.

But again Piers turned aside from open conflict. He put a quiet hand
through his grandfather's arm.

"Come along, sir! We'll smoke in the hall," he said. "I think you
understand me. If you don't--" he paused and smiled his sudden, winning
smile into the old man's wrathful eyes--"I'll explain more fully when the
time comes."

"Confound you, Piers!" was Sir Beverley's only answer.

Yet he left the room with the boy's arm linked in his. And the woman's
face on the wall smiled behind them--the smile of a witch, m