Tom had sat upon the bed, swinging one leg and sucking his walking-stick with sufficient unconcern, until the visit had attained this stage. Seeing his sister ready to depart, he got up, rather hurriedly, and put in a word.

“Just wait a moment, Loo! Before we go, I should like to speak to him a moment. Something comes into my head. If you’ll step out on the stairs, Blackpool, I’ll mention it. Never mind a light, man!” Tom was remarkably impatient of his moving towards the cupboard, to get one. “It don’t want a light.”

Stephen followed him out, and Tom closed the room door, and held the lock in his hand.

“I say!” he whispered. “I think I can do you a good turn. Don’t ask me what it is, because it may not come to anything. But there’s no harm in my trying.”

His breath fell like a flame of fire on Stephen’s ear, it was so hot.