Otto was horrified by the sudden condensation of the amorphous suspicions afloat in his brain. Could it be possible that he had ousted a rival? Certainly, Gerard’s fury seemed in excess of the injury to which he owned. For the first time, in the elder brother’s heart also, dislike and distrust joined hands.
“Just so,” said the Freule van Borck, across his irritable uncertainty. She nodded to the others provokingly, and walked out upon the terrace. Otto followed her.
“Aunt Louisa,” he began, “I think you are mistaken.”
“Yes, Otto,” she answered. “Of course you do now. But you didn’t when I first spoke, you see. Let me give you a bit of advice. Eh?”
“Well?” The young man’s voice was not inviting.
“Don’t go back to Java with your wife, as I dare say you want to do. Stop here and fight it out. Ursula’ll fight it out. I don’t give twopence for a married woman who can’t live in the same house with her former lover. Of course they were lovers. I’ve seen it these half a dozen years. Never mind. She was too good for Gerard. There!” She smiled a complimentary smile to her brawny nephew; she liked his brownness and bigness, and straight, square strength.
Otto crept away.
“To-morrow I shall speak about going away,” he said to himself. “To-morrow, not to-night. The Dominé must listen to reason. The shadow of Cain lies between Gerard and me.”