"I understand," said Anne gravely, but even as she spoke she was asking herself what possible motive had prompted this explanation.

He jerked up his head and she caught the glint of his fiery eyes for an instant. "You--care for Lucas, Lady Carfax?" he said.

Her heart gave a sudden throb that hurt her intolerably. For a moment she could not speak.

Then, "Yes," she said. "I love him."

Nap was pulling mechanically at the rag he held. It began to tear between his hands. She watched him ripping it to shreds.

Suddenly he seemed to realise what he was doing, and tossed it from him.

He looked her straight in the eyes.

"Have you fixed the date for your coronation?" he asked.

Her eyes fell instantly. "Will you tell me what you mean?" she said.

"Is my meaning obscure?"

She compelled herself to answer him steadily. "If you mean our marriage, it will not take place for some time, possibly not this year."

"Why not?" said Nap. "Are you a slave to etiquette?"

The thing sounded preposterous on his lips. She faintly smiled. "The decision does not lie with me."

"Ah!" he said shrewdly. "The privilege of kings! You will still be a queen before you are thirty. And your first act will be to expel the court jester--if he waits to be expelled."

She saw his grim smile for an instant, and knew that he was playing his old fencing game with her, but at the same time she knew that there was no antagonism behind his point. How the knowledge came to her she could not have said, but she realised afterwards that it was at that moment that she began to perceive that the devil had gone out of Nap Errol. The conviction was slow in growing, but it was then that it first took root; it was then that her fear of the man began to die away.

She raised her eyes. "Why should I do that, Nap?"

He made her a deep bow. "Because I have been unfortunate enough to incur your displeasure."

There was a moment of silence, then, in obedience to that instinct to which in rare moments she yielded herself and which never played her false, Anne held out her hand to him. "I forgive you," she said.

He started. He evidently had not expected that from her. Perhaps he had not wanted it. Later she wondered. But he showed no awkwardness of indecision. Only once had she ever seen him at a loss, and of that once she would never voluntarily think again.

He took her hand upon his sleeve and bent over it. She thought he was going to kiss it, and a sharp dread went through her. But he only touched it for a single instant with his forehead.

"For Luke's sake?" he said, not looking at her.

"For your own," she made answer, almost as if she could not help herself.

"Because?" he questioned.

"Because I know you love him," she said. "Because I know that you will be loyal to him."

"Though I may be false to you?" he said.

She bent her head. "I am only a woman. I am afraid your experience of women has not taught you to respect them."

He picked up the gun again and fell to work upon it. "My experience of one woman at least," he said, "has taught me--something different, something I am not likely to forget."

It was the end of the interview. In silence Anne turned to go. He wheeled round and opened the door for her, but he did not look at her again, nor she at him. When the door closed between them she felt as if a great silence had fallen in her life.

CHAPTER XI

SOMETHING GREAT

On the day succeeding Nap's return Dot went to tea at Baronmead. She was a very constant visitor there. Lucas always enjoyed her bright presence and welcomed her with warmth. But Dot was not feeling very bright that day. She looked preoccupied, almost worried.

She found that Mrs. Errol and Anne had gone out, and, as her custom was when she found the house deserted, she went straight to her brother-in-law's room.

Tawny Hudson answered her knock at the outer door, and she was struck by the lowering look the great half-breed wore. His expression was positively villainous, and sharp as a pin-p.r.i.c.k there darted through her the memory of her first visit to Baronmead, and the hatred of Nap Errol she had that day seen revealed in the man's eyes. She had never given the matter a thought since. To-day it awoke to life, stirring within her a vague apprehension.

"How is your master, Tawny?" she asked.

"He is not so well, madam," said Tawny Hudson, but he opened the door wide notwithstanding, inviting her to enter.

She went in. The room adjoined that in which Lucas lay, and Hudson was always there when not actually in attendance upon his master, except in his off hours, which were as few as Lucas would permit.

"May I see him?" said Dot. "Or would he rather not be disturbed?"

Hudson stepped to the closed door and listened, his great red head bent almost to the keyhole.

After a few moments he stood up and softly turned the handle. He made a brief sign to her and pa.s.sed noiselessly into the room.

Dot remained where she was. She heard Lucas accost him at once, and caught the murmur of the man's low-spoken reply. And then in a moment Hudson came back to her.

"Will you go in, madam?" he said, in his careful English that always made her think of an animal that had been taught to speak.

She went in, treading lightly, relieved to leave the man's heavy scowling visage behind her.

"Come right in," said Lucas hospitably. "It's real good of you to come and see me like this."

She took his outstretched hand, looking at him anxiously. She saw that he had not slept for many hours. Though he smiled at her, there was a grey look about his lips that made her wonder if he were in pain.

"Sit down," he said gently. "It's nothing. Only another bad night. I can't expect to sleep soundly always."

"How disappointing!" Dot murmured.

"Not surprising though. I had an exciting day yesterday. You heard of Nap's return?"

"Yes." There was a very decided cloud upon Dot's face. "I saw him."

"Well?" said Lucas.