"Tawny!" said the voice again—the voice of his enemy, curt and imperious. "Go and find Mr. Bertie, and tell him he is wanted."
Through the closed door the magic reached the frenzied man. He remained motionless for a few seconds, but the order was not repeated. At the end of the interval the magic had done its work. He turned and slunk away.
A minute later Bertie, very pale and stern, presented himself at the closed door.
"What is it, Nap?"
Contemptuously clear came the answer. "Nothing here. Stay where you are, that's all, and keep that all-fired fool Hudson from spoiling his master's chances."
Bertie turned to look at the man who had come up behind him, and in turning saw the door-handle at his feet.
He pointed to it. "Your doing?"
Hudson shrank under the accusing blue eyes so like his master's. He began to whimper like a beaten dog.
Bertie picked up the knob. "Poor devil!" he muttered; and then aloud:
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Do you call this a man's game?"
Tawny cringed in abject misery. He was completely subdued. With the smallest encouragement he would have grovelled at Bertie's feet.