“Gino!”
He stopped for a moment; then he came nearer. Philip stood his ground.
“You are to do what you like with me, Gino. Your son is dead, Gino. He died in my arms, remember. It does not excuse me; but he did die in my arms.”
The left hand came forward, slowly this time. It hovered before Philip like an insect. Then it descended and gripped him by his broken elbow.
Philip struck out with all the strength of his other arm. Gino fell to the blow without a cry or a word.
“You brute!” exclaimed the Englishman. “Kill me if you like! But just you leave my broken arm alone.”
Then he was seized with remorse, and knelt beside his adversary and tried to revive him. He managed to raise him up, and propped his body against his own. He passed his arm round him. Again he was filled with pity and tenderness. He awaited the revival without fear, sure that both of them were safe at last.
Gino recovered suddenly. His lips moved. For one blessed moment it seemed that he was going to speak. But he scrambled up in silence, remembering everything, and he made not towards Philip, but towards the lamp.
“Do what you like; but think first—”
The lamp was tossed across the room, out through the loggia. It broke against one of the trees below. Philip began to cry out in the dark.