"If you'll forgive me having butted in again. I'll go up to my room. I'm pretty shaky, you see. I just wanted to know what time breakfast is to be, and if I can borrow one of your brother's razors in the morning."
"Breakfast is at seven o'clock," answered Claire. "That's a barbarously early hour, I suppose for a New Yorker like you. But down here from six to ten is the glorious part of the day. Besides, we're farmers you know. Don't bother to try to wake so early, please. I'll have your breakfast sent up to you. Good night."
"I'll look in on you before I go to bed," called Milo after him as he started up the stairs for the second time. "And I'll see that shaving things are left in your bathroom. Good night."
Hade said nothing, but continued to pierce the unbidden guest with those gimlet-like smiling black eyes of his. His face was expressionless. Gavin returned to the upper hall and walked with needless heaviness toward the room assigned to him. Reaching its door he opened and then shut it loudly, himself remaining in the hallway. Scarce had the door slammed when he heard from below Rodney Hade's voice raised in the sharp question:
"What does this mean? You've dared to—?"
"What the blazes else could I do?" blustered Milo—though under the bluster ran a thread of placating timidity. "He saved my life, didn't he? I was tackled by—"
"For one thing," suggested Hade, "you could have hit a little harder with the wrench. If a blow is worth hitting at all it's worth hitting to kill. You have the strength of an elephant, and the nerve of a sheep."
"Rodney!" protested Claire, indignantly. "He—"
"I've seen his face somewhere," went on Hade unheeding. "I could swear to that. I can't place it yet. But I shall. Meantime get rid of him. And now I'll hear about this attack on you …. Come out on the veranda. This hall reeks of iodine and liniment and all such stuff. It smells like a hospital ward. Come outside."
Despite the unvarying sweet smoothness of his diction, he spoke as if giving orders to a servant. But apparently neither of the two Standishes resented his dictation. For Brice could hear them follow Hade out of the house. And from the veranda presently came the booming murmur of Standish's voice in a recital of some kind.