His tone was constrained and almost cold as he said, "How are you now, my boy?" At the same time extending his hand in a formal fashion.
"Much better, thank you, sir," Gus replied, timidly grasping the outstretched hand.
"That is well," said the colonel. Then observing an eager, wistful look in Gus' eyes, he said, turning to his daughter, "Have you told him, Edith?"
"Yes, father."
The colonel made no rejoinder. He seated himself in such a position that Gus could only see his side face, and sat gazing into the fire.
Thinking they would get on better alone, Mrs. Durrant quitted the room.
But still the colonel sat silently gazing into the fire, and Gus, as he watched him, grew nervously anxious for him to speak. At last, when Gus felt his endurance strained to the utmost, the colonel broke the silence.
"Gus," he said, "they tell me you saved the life of Philip Darnell."
This remark seemed to require no reply, and Gus was silent, waiting for more.
"It is a strange thing," continued the colonel after a pause, speaking in a low, bitter tone. "You could not know it, but that man was your father's worst enemy. He was the cause of your father's ruin. I had long suspected him of playing a double part, but I did not learn the truth till a few years ago, when I learned it from one of your father's former companions, who, unknown to Philip Darnell, had been in the whole secret. He was dying when he told me how Darnell had enticed and ensnared my son into the crime for which he was afterwards the first to denounce him. Yes, he revealed to me the whole conspiracy. I could confront Darnell with it, but what would be the good? He has done nothing that the law can punish, and it is all too late as far as your father is concerned. Would to God it were possible to undo the errors of the past!"