"Abroad? God! don't let me lose him again!" He sank into a chair, his head in his arms.
"Tut! I implore you, Mr. Carstares! Do not despair yet. We have no proof that he has left the country. I daresay we shall find him almost at once. Chadber thinks it likely he will visit the inn again ere long. Calm yourself, Master Dick!" He walked up to the man and laid a hand on one heaving shoulder. "We shall find him, never fear! But do not—I know 'twould grieve him to see you so upset, Master Dick—pray, do not—!"
"If I could only make amends!" groaned Richard.
"Well, sir, are you not about to? He would not wish you to distress yourself like this! He was so fond of you! Pray, pray do not!"
Carstares rose unsteadily and walked to the window. "I crave your pardon, Mr. Warburton—you must excuse me—I have been—living in hell—this last week."
Warburton came over to his side.
"Master Dick—I—you know I have never cared for you-as—well—as—"
"You cared for him."
"Er—yes, sir, exactly!—and of late years I may, perhaps, have been hard. I would desire to—er—apologise for any unjust—er—thoughts I may have harboured against you. I—I—possibly, I never quite understood. That is all, sir."
He blew his nose rather violently, and then his hand found Richard's.