"I met Tapilow face to face at a little French café," I told him. "They tell me that he will recover, but he is maimed and scarred for life."
My brother showed no excitement—scarcely, even, any interest in my information. His face, however, had darkened.
"I am glad that you did not kill him outright," he said. "Tell me, are you likely to get into any trouble for this?"
"No!" I assured him. "The affair happened in a very dubious sort of place. I don't think I shall hear anything more about it unless from Tapilow himself."
Ralph nodded.
"We will close the chapter," he said.
"You have no news—"
"None!" he interrupted me, shortly. "We will close the chapter."
So I spoke to him no more on his own affairs. His servant brought in the letters and papers, poked the fire, and announced that breakfast was ready.
"You will have something, Austen?" he asked.