chastisement of his cousin, lost the beauty and animation that had
clothed it a minute before; now it grew leaden and hard, the good died
away from it altogether, and, instead of a young god bright with
vengeance, there was nothing but a sullen youth with dull and
frightened eyes. To his son, as to most people who came under his
influence, "Devil" Caresfoot was a grave reality.

Presently the picture in the doorway opened its mouth and spoke in a
singularly measured, gentle voice.

"You will forgive me, Philip, for interrupting your _tete-a-tete_, but
may I ask what is the meaning of this?"

Philip returned no answer.

"Since your cousin is not in a communicative mood, George, perhaps you
will inform me why you are lying on your face and groaning in that
unpleasant and aggressive manner?"

George lifted his blood-stained face from the stones, and, looking at
his uncle, groaned louder than ever.

"May I ask you, Philip, if George has fallen down and hurt himself, or
if there has been an--an--altercation between you?"

Here George himself got up and, before Philip could make any reply,
addressed himself to his uncle.

"Sir," he said, "I will answer for Philip; there _has_ been an
altercation, and he in the scuffle knocked me down, and I confess,"