“The truth for the first time,” said Sir Francis. Then bitterly: “And I thought you were both gentlemen! Leave the room.”
“It was Phil who proposed it all, papa,” cried Courtenay appealingly.
“Ah, you sneak!” cried Philip. “I didn’t, sir. I was as bad as he was, I suppose, and I thought it good fun, but I shouldn’t have told all those lies if he hadn’t made me. There, they were all lies! Now you can punish me if you like.”
“Leave the room!” said Sir Francis again; and he stood pointing to the door as the brothers went out, looking miserably crestfallen.
Then the door closed, and the silence was broken by a sharp cry, a scuffle, the sound of blows, and a fall, accompanied by the smashing of some vessel on the stone floor.
Sir Francis strode out into the hall, and there was a hubbub of voices, and I heard Philip cry passionately:
“Yes; I did hit him. He began on me, and I’ll do it again—a coward!”
Then there was a low murmur for a few minutes, and Sir Francis came back into the library and stood by the table, with the light shining on his great silver moustache; and I thought what a fine, handsome, fierce old fellow he looked as he stood frowning there for quite a minute without speaking. Then, turning to Mr Solomon, he said quickly:
“I beg your pardon, Brownsmith. I was excited and irritable to-night, and said what I am sorry for now.”
“Then don’t say any more, Sir Francis,” replied Mr Solomon quietly. “I’ve been your servant—”