Sir Eustace was out of the train before anyone else. He met his brother with the impetuosity of one who cannot stop for greeting.
"Ah, Stumpy! I'm not too late?"
There was strain upon his face also as he flung the question, and in an instant Scott's look had changed. He grasped the outflung hand.
"No, no, old fellow! It's all right. She is looking forward to seeing you."
Sir Eustace drew a sharp breath. His dark face relaxed a little. "I've had a hell of a time," he said.
"My dear chap, I'm sorry," impulsively Scott made answer. "I'd have met you at the junction, only it was difficult to get away for so long. Do you mind walking up? They'll see to fetching your traps along presently."
"Oh, all right. Yes, let us walk by all means!" Eustace expanded his chest, and breathed again, deeply. He put his hand on Scott's shoulder as they passed through the barrier. "What's the matter with you, my lad?" he said.
Scott glanced up at him—a swift, surprised glance. "With me? Nothing. I am—as usual."
Eustace's hawk-eyes scanned him closely. "I've never seen you look worse," he said.
Scott raised his shoulder slightly under his hand, and said nothing. The first involuntary kindliness of greeting passed wholly away, as if it had not been.