‘Did you quarrel?’ Theo asked, the crease deepening.
‘It takes two to make a quarrel.’
‘Evasion, Gervase! Was he –’ He broke off, for a quick footstep was heard approaching the library across the Great Hall beyond it, and in another instant Martin had entered the room.
He was looking tired, and pale, his face rather set, and his expressive eyes sombre. He checked on the threshold when he saw his cousin, and ejaculated: ‘Oh – ! You here!’
‘Do you wish to speak to Gervase? I am just off to bed.’
‘It doesn’t signify. I have no doubt you know the whole!’ He glanced at St Erth, and then lowered his eyes. ‘I only wished to say – I was in a rage!’
‘Yes, I know,’ the Earl replied quietly.
Another fleeting glance was cast up at him. ‘I think I said – I don’t know: I do say things, in a rage, which – which I don’t mean!’
‘I did not regard it, and you need not either.’
Martin seemed to force his rigid mouth to smile. ‘No. Well – mighty good of you to take it so! Of course I know it was not your fault. Good-night!’
He went quickly away, and for a full minute there was silence in the library. The Earl snuffed a guttering candle, and said: ‘Do you mean to return to Stanyon when you have done all your business at Evesleigh, Theo, or do you go on immediately to Studham?’
‘I believe I may postpone my journey,’ Theo said slowly.
/> ‘Indeed! May I know why?’
Theo looked frowningly at him. ‘It might be best if I were to remain at Stanyon – for the present.’
‘Oh, are you at that again? I have told you already that I don’t need a watch-dog, my dear fellow!’
‘And still I should prefer to remain!’
‘Why? when you have heard Martin make me an apology?’
Theo met the deep blue eyes full. ‘In all the years I have known Martin,’ he said deliberately, ‘I have never heard him utter an apology, or even acknowledge a fault!’
‘My regenerating influence!’ said Gervase flippantly.
‘I should be happy to think so.’
‘But you don’t?’
‘No,’ Theo said. ‘I don’t!’
‘Nevertheless, Theo, you will oblige me by going to Evesleigh tomorrow, as you have planned to do.’
‘Very well. But I wish this business of Ulverston’s had not been disclosed!’ Theo said.
The breakfast-party on the following morning was attended, inevitably, by a certain measure of constraint. It was the first time Martin and the Viscount had met since their encounter at Whissenhurst, and even Mr Clowne seemed to be conscious of the tension. His nervous platitudes filled the gap between the exchange of cool greetings between these two and the entrance of the Earl, who made his appearance in a coat of such exquisite cut that the Viscount exclaimed at it, demanding to be told the name of the tailor who had made it. ‘Not Scott!’ he said.
‘No, Weston,’ responded the Earl. ‘Martin, what’s this I hear of kestrels in the West Wood?’
He could have said nothing that would have made Martin more certainly forget, for the moment, his injuries. The dark eyes lit; Martin replied: ‘So Pleasley says! He swears there is a pair, and believes they may be nesting in one of the old magpies’ nests. I know the place.’
‘Too early in the year, isn’t it?’ asked the Viscount.
‘I have known them to start breeding as early as March,’ Martin said. ‘It is not usual, I own, but it is very possible.’ He turned his head to address his brother. ‘I have said I’ll ride to Roxmere this morning, to look at some likely young ’uns, but I mean to take a gun out this afternoon, and try for them.’
‘It is sad that the kestrel, or, as I like to call it, the windhover, should be so destructive,’ said Mr Clowne. ‘To see them hovering above, as though suspended, is a pretty sight.’