aos. The order was so utterly
unexpected. There were at least a million things he wished to point out,
but the only one on which his brain would focus was the fact that if
these men saw Nicholas, they would no longer imagine him to be dead. And
yet that fact was so obvious, it was evident it must have occurred to
Nicholas's own mind.

"Don't try to think," remarked Nicholas grimly, "merely obey orders."

The words pricked, restoring Jessop's balance. He drew himself to rigid
attention, the mask suddenly resumed.

"Very good, sir," and Jessop left the room.

"What the blue blazes!" he muttered, as he returned, almost stumbling,
towards the pantry.

The expression had belonged to the youthful Nicholas. Jessop borrowed it
only at moments of the severest stress. It was borrowed now.

CHAPTER XXXVI

AN OLD MAN TELLS HIS STORY

Antony did not in the least understand Jessop's request to follow him to
the library, when he returned from his midday meal. He imagined that
there was some job which required doing, and that Jessop was regarding
him in the light of a handy man. Anyhow Antony followed him
good-humouredly enough, and not without a certain degree of curiosity.
The big, silent house had always exercised an odd fascination over him,
and he had more than once had a strong desire to set foot within its
walls. He experienced an almost unconscious excitement in complying with
the order.

He followed Jessop up the steps, and through the big door. Facing him
were wide shallow oak stairs, uncovered and polished. Great Turkish rugs
lay on the hall floor; two huge palms in big Oriental pots stood at
either side of the stairs; hunting crops and antlers adorned the walls.
Jessop opened a door on the right. Almost before Antony had realized what
was happening, the butler had withdrawn and closed the door behind him.

Antony half turned in amazement towards the door.

"Ahem!"

With a start Antony turned back into the room. It was not empty, as he
had imagined it to be. A white-haired, black-eyed man was sitting in a
big oak chair, his colourless hands resting on the arms.

"Well?" said the man.

Memory surged over Antony in a flood. Alteration there unquestionably was
in the crippled form before him, but the black piercing eyes were
unchanged. The suddenness of his surprise made his brain reel. He put out
his hand towards the back of a chair to steady himself.

"So you know me, Antony Gray," came the mocking