Rex colored. Syd looked so very serious, and now, as he stood there in the full glare of daylight, the signs of suffering on his face were plainly apparent.
“Syd, you are ill?” exclaimed Rex, forgetting about what he had been saying. “You ought to be at home at once.”
“Never mind about me, Reggie. Tell me what you were just telling Scott.”
“I didn’t think it was any harm. A good many people in Marley know it now. I was telling him about—about Mr. Tyler’s will.”
“What about it?” Sydney’s eyes were looking steadily, unsmilingly down into his brother’s as he put the question.
Rex was really frightened now. He had never seen Sydney look just like this before.
“I told him about leaving his money to us on account of what Roy had done,” he faltered. “I didn’t—”
Sydney’s eyes closed; he started to reel backwards and would have fallen had not Scott sprung forward and caught him.
“Help me ease him down in the chair, Rex,” he called out.
Scarcely knowing what he was doing, Reginald took hold of his brother’s other arm and between them the two boys got him down gently into a chair that stood near the window.