“It is Martin,” said the Earl, turning, so that he faced the room, his back against the wall.
“Martin! But, my dear Gervase, he would never — ”
Theo broke off, silenced by a lifted finger. Martin’s voice could be heard in the hall, fiercely interrogating Allenby.
“How rash! how witless of him!” sighed the Earl.
Hasty footsteps were crossing the hall; the door burst open, and Martin came impetuously into the room, and slammed the door shut again with one careless, backward thrust of his hand.
“Don’t move, Martin!” said the Earl warningly.
“St. Erth! Don’t you see? — don’t you understand?” Martin cried. “It’s not me you need beware of!”
“Yes, I do understand,” Gervase said. “Better than you, it seems! You young fool, what if a shot were to be fired in this room, and Allenby ran in to find me dead, and you struggling with Theo? Do you think anyone would believe that it was Theo and not you who had shot me?”
“Are you mad?” Theo demanded harshly.
“No, I am neither mad nor fevered. See if he carries a pistol, Martin, if you please!”