"Yes, sir."

"Take Mr. Amber's coat and boots and bring him my dressing-gown and
slippers."

"Yes, sir."

"And a hot toddy and something to eat--and be quick about it."

"Very good, sir."

Rutton's body-servant moved noiselessly to Amber's side, deftly helping
him remove his shooting-jacket, whereon snow had caked in thin and
brittle sheets. His eyes, grey and shallow, flickered recognition and
softened, but he did not speak in anticipation of Amber's kindly
"Good-evening, Doggott." To which he responded quietly: "Good-evening,
Mr. Amber. It's a pleasure to see you again. I trust you are well."

"Quite, thank you. And you?"

"I'm very fit, thank you sir."

"And"--Amber sat down again, Doggott kneeling at his feet to unlace and
remove his heavy pigskin hunting-boots--"and your brother?"

For a moment the man did not answer. His head was lowered so that his
features were invisible, but a dull, warm flush overspread his cheeks.

"And your brother, Doggott?"