“And Duke with it, perhaps—eh?”
His expression changed to one most fulsomely fawning.
“Renny,” he said, “you can’t mean to treat me, your own brother, like this? Let’s have confidence in one another and combine.” He gave a little embarrassed laugh. “I know where the treasure’s hid, I tell you. S’posing we share it and——”
He stopped abruptly, with an alarmed look. Something in my face must have forewarned him, for he walked unsteadily to the door, glancing fearfully at me. Passing the brandy bottle on his way, he seized it with sudden defiance.
“I’ll have this, anyhow,” he murmured. “You won’t object to my taking that much away.”
Hugging it to his breast under his coat, he went from the room. I followed him down the stairs; saw him out of the house; shut the door on him. Then I listened for his shuffling footstep going up the yard and away before I would acknowledge to myself that he had been got rid of at a price small under the circumstances.
I remained at my post for full assurance of his departure for many minutes after he had left, and when at last I stole up to my father’s room I found the old man fallen into a doze. Seen through the wan twilight how broken and decaying and feeble he seemed!
I sat by him till he stirred and woke. His eyes opened upon me with a pleased look at finding me beside him, and he put out a thin rugged hand and took mine into it.
“I’ve been asleep,” he said. “I dreamed a bad son of mine came back and terrified the old man. It was a dream, wasn’t it, Renny?”
“Only a dream, dad. Jason isn’t here.”