"Not strong, eh? You don't look it. The dice had better have sent
me away, and kept you here. I never felt in better condition in
my life." He paused and added, with his eye on Frank and with a
strong emphasis on the words: "We men of Kent are made of tough
material."

Frank advanced a step on his side, with a new interest in Richard
Wardour.

"You come from Kent?" he said.

"Yes. From East Kent." He waited a little once more, and looked
hard at Frank. "Do you know that part of the country?" he asked.

"I ought to know something about East Kent," Frank answered.
"Some dear friends of mine once lived there."

"Friends of yours?" Wardour repeated. "One of the county
families, I suppose?"

As he put the question, he abruptly looked over his shoulder. He
was standing between Crayford and Frank. Crayford, taking no part
in the conversation, had been watching him, and listening to him
more and more attentively as that conversation went on. Within
the last moment or two Wardour had become instinctively conscious
of this. He resented Crayford's conduct with needless
irritability.

"Why are you staring at me?" he asked.