With his usual quietness of demeanour, he crossed the vestibule, and looked into the smoking-room. Sir Eustace was not there either, and he was closing the door again when the man himself came up the passage behind him, and clapped a careless hand on his shoulder.
"Are you looking for me, most doughty knight?" he asked.
Scott turned so sharply that the hand fell. "Yes, I am looking for you," he said, and his voice was unusually curt. "Come outside a minute, will you? I want to speak to you."
"I am not going outside," Sir Eustace said, with exasperating coolness.
"If you want to talk, you can come in here and smoke with me."
"I must be alone with you," Scott said briefly. "There are two or three men in there."
His brother gave him a look of amused curiosity. "Do you want to do something violent then? There's plenty of room for a quiet talk in there without disturbing or being disturbed by anyone."
But Scott stood his ground. "I must see you alone for a minute," he said stubbornly. "You can come to my room, or I will come to yours,—whichever you like."
Sir Eustace shrugged his shoulders. "You are damned persistent. I don't know that I am specially anxious to hear what you have to say. In any case it can keep till the morning. I can't be bothered now."
Scott's hand grasped his arm. A queer gleam shone in his pale eyes.
"Man," he said, "I think you had better hear me now."
Eustace looked down at him, half-sneering, half-impressed. "What a mule you are, Stumpy! Come along then if you must! But you had better mind how you go. I'm in no mood for trifling."