he harness; he
had worn it for a fortnight and he could bear it no longer. Bethel was
right; he would follow the same path and find his soul by losing it in
the eyes of the world. But after all, there was Robin. He had not
given it a fair trial, and it was only cowardice that had spoken to him.

The clock struck half-past three and he went upstairs to see his
father. The old man seldom left his bed now. He grew weaker every day
and the end could not be far away. He had no longer any desire to
live, and awaited with serene confidence the instant of departure,
being firmly convinced that Death was too good a gentleman to treat a
Trojan scurvily, and that, whatever the next world might contain, he
would at least be assured of the respect and deference that the present
world had shown him. His mind dwelt continually on his early days,
and, even when there was no one present to listen, he repeated
anecdotes and reminiscences for the benefit of the world at large. His
face seemed to have dwindled considerably, but his eyes were always
alive--twinkling over the bedclothes like lights in a dark room. His
mouth never moved, only his hand, claw-like and yellow as parchment,
clutched the bedclothes and sometimes waved feebly in the air to
emphasise his meaning. He had grown strangely intolerant of Clare, and
although he submitted to her offices as usual, did so reluctantly and
with no good grace; she had served him faithfully and diligently for
twenty years and this was her reward. She said nothing, but she laid
it to Harry's charge.

Sir Jeremy's eyes twinkled when he saw his son. "Hey, Harry, my
boy--all of 'em out, aren't they? Devilish good thing--no one to worry
us. Just give the pillows a punch and pull that table nearer--that's
right. Just pull that blind up--I can't see the sea."

The room had changed its character within the last week. It was a
place of silences and noiseless tread, and the scent of flowers mingled
with the intangible odour of medicine. A great fire burnt in the open
fireplace, and heavy curtains had been hung over the door to prevent
draughts.

Harry moved silently about the room, flung up the blind to let in the
sun, propped up the pillows, and then sat down by the bed.

"You're looking better, father," he said; "you'll soon be up again."

"The devil I will," said Sir Jeremy. "No, it's not for me. I'm here
for a month or two, and then I'm off. I've had my day, and a damned
goo