“There’s one thing you could do for me, Alford – hurry along that marriage. Fix it for next month if you can. Leslie is just a foolish girl, she is trying to put off the inevitable, but that’s natural, isn’t it? Can’t you buck up Harry–”

Dick Alford looked at him steadily.

“The matter must be left entirely to Leslie,” he said, and there was something very definite and final in those words.

They came out of the library together; Leslie, waiting, a little fearful, saw the smile on her brother’s face and breathed a sigh of thankfulness.

“You’re not going?” Dick was reaching for his cap.

“I have to get back to the house,” he said, and, seeing her look of disappointment, he stood irresolutely.

“Come along in and play mah-jong. I am in a mah-jong mood,” said Arthur, almost jovially.

If there was one thing that Dick could not endure that night it was to sit vis-à-vis with Arthur Gine. He would like to have stayed with the girl, but for the moment her brother seemed an inevitable third. And he was terribly informative. Arthur was in his most expansive mood.

“Here is something that will interest you!”

He pointed to the wall. Hanging against a dark wooden shield was an iron dagger – black and sinister, the handle worn smooth, the long blade notched and jagged. Dick had seen it before.

“That should be at your place, Alford. The veritable dagger of the veritable Black Abbot’s slayer – Hubert of Redruth! Look at his arms on the hilt.”

“I have seen it,” said Dick shortly. “Put on your coat and come for a walk, Leslie,” he suggested, and the obliging Arthur, who would have been agreeable to any scheme he propounded, seconded the suggestion.

18

The night was cool and dark. There was a full moon, visible at intervals through the drift of the clouds. Leslie slipped her arm through his as they walked down the dark avenue towards the road.

“Did you quarrel?” she asked.

“N-no, we didn’t quarrel,” said Dick. “There was a little plain speaking, but I think it cleared the air, and, after all, that was what I came for. He is dismissing Gilder tomorrow.”

She was silent at this, and did not speak again until they were on the road.

“Is that wise?” she asked. “I’m a little afraid of the man. I feel he would be a very bad enemy.”

She heard his soft laugh and felt reassured.

“He’s that all right,” said Dick; “the worst enemy any man could have, I should imagine. But an enemy is only dangerous in ratio to his hurting power. I don’t think Mr Gilder will hurt anybody.”

“Not Arthur?” she asked. “Not Arthur, and certainly not you.”

She squeezed his arm in hers. “You’d be a wonderful brother,” she said.

“I am,” he said curtly, and she smiled in the darkness.