"You," he said, "you?"
"We, Dick, Stara and I. We've run all the way here. Oh, don't stand staring there, but let us in," and Hector pressed forward.
"Damn you! Never!" began Richard, but Hector was past, easily thrusting the other, a man with twice his strength, aside, and was standing in the hall, his hand on the staircase rails.
"Take me to her," he said, "or I'll go alone."
Richard stared at him for a moment, measuring Hector's strength with his. "A weak creature," he thought; "he took me unawares just now; that was all. I could kill him easily enough, and, God knows, I've prayed for the chance; but yet, now that it's come, I can't—not with her lying dead above.
"Follow me," he said, and led the way to a small room, called by courtesy a study, but used by its master indiscriminately for the keeping of guns, fishing-tackle, and seeds.
"Untidy as ever, Dick, I see. Look, Stara, the same old mess."
Selbourne wheeled round, his grey eyes searching the other's face.
"Do you wish me to believe you mad," he said curtly, "is that your coward's refuge?"
Hector stared vacantly. "Mad, mad!" he repeated, "you may be, I'm not. Mad, what do you mean?" a look of anger appearing in his eyes.