“Really? I should be sorry if it was so bad as that.”
Trent gazed at him sullenly.
“Can’t you see that everything you do is bad for me? Somehow or other you seem bent on wrecking my career as well as your own. First bankruptcy, then that marriage; now, I suppose, divorce—and this disgraceful outrage on the top of everything else.”
Alistair was surprisingly meek.
“Yes, I dare say you feel it is rather rough on you; but, after all, no one can blame you for my misdeeds.”
“But they do—they must. You don’t suppose I could remain Home Secretary with my own brother doing time in one of the prisons under my control. You just called me your enemy; I should like to know what you are to me.”
“I could tell you that, if I thought you would understand,” the other said in low tones.
“What have I done, what has our mother done, that you should make no effort to spare us all this disgrace?” Trent demanded warmly.
“Ah! what have you done? Have you ever considered me?” returned Alistair.
“Considered you? We have done nothing else. We have always been trying to save you, but you have never let us.”