Richard turned his head. His eyes, filled now with a species of dull pain, looked full into Warburton’s.

“Oh?” he said. “Then you⁠ ⁠… ?”

“Nor I, sir. I have pledged my word to his lordship. I would not speak all these years for your father’s sake⁠—now it is for his.” He choked.

“You⁠ ⁠… are fond of John?” Still the apathetic, weary voice.

“Fond of him⁠—? Good God, Master Dick, I love him!”

“And I,” said Richard, very low.

He received no reply, and looked up.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Once, sir, I was certain of it. Now⁠—!” he shrugged.

“Yet ’tis true, Warburton. I would give all in my power to undo that night’s work.”