Capper tugged at his beard with restless fingers and ground his heel into the turf.
"If you consider Nap an obstacle—why don't you speak to him?" Anne asked in her quiet voice.
Capper shrugged his shoulders. "He hates me—and small wonder! I've told him the brutal truth too often."
Anne passed the matter by. "And Lucas does not wish to undergo the operation?"
"That's just the infernal part of it!" burst forth Capper. "He would undergo it to-morrow if he didn't consider himself indispensable to these young whelps. But that isn't all. Lady Carfax, he wants help. He wants someone strong to stand by. I believe you could do it—if you would. You are the sort of woman that men turn to in trouble. I've been watching you. I know."
Again very faintly Anne smiled, with more of patience than amusement.
"Dr. Capper, has Lucas been telling you about me?"
Capper thrust out a hand. "Yes."
"You know how I am situated?" she questioned.
"I do." There was no sympathy in Capper's voice or face; only in the grasp of his hand.
"And you think I could be of use to him?"