"Return it to Colonel Arran with Mr. Berkley's
undying--compliments," he said, and went blindly out into the April
night, but his senses were swimming as though he were drunk.


Behind him the door of the house of Arran clanged.

Larraway stood stealthily peering through the side-lights; then
tiptoed toward the hallway and entered the dining-room with velvet
tread.

"Port or brandy, sir?" he whispered at Colonel Arran's elbow.

The Colonel shook his head.

"Nothing more. Take that box to my study."

Later, seated at his study table before the open box, he heard
Larraway knock; and he quietly laid away the miniature of Berkley's
mother which had been lying in his steady palm for hours.

"Well?"

"Pardon. Mr. Berkley's key, with Mr. Berkley's compliments, sir."
And he laid it upon the table by the box.

"Thank you. That will be all."

"Thank _you_, sir. Good night, sir."