"I want to be alone to-day," he said dryly. "Tell them to send me up some tea in the afternoon. I'll go to my room now—I shan't want any dinner."
"I want to be alone to-day," the old man reiterated tonelessly, "and to be left alone."
"Very well, sir."
Lord Radclyffe walked slowly toward the staircase. Luke—his heart torn with anxiety and sorrow—saw how heavy was the old man's step, how listless his movements. The younger man's instinct drew him instantly to the side of the elder. He placed an affectionate hand on his uncle's shoulder.
"Uncle Rad," he said appealingly, "can't I do anything for you?"
Lord Radclyffe turned and for a moment his eyes softened as they rested on the face he loved so well. His wrinkled hand sought the firm, young one which lingered on his shoulder. But he did not take it, only put it gently aside, then said quietly:
"No, my boy, there's nothing you can do, except to leave me alone."
Then he went up stairs and shut himself up in his own room, and Luke saw him no more that day.