Hamish made no reply to this. He was busy with his papers.
"Will you go, Hamish?"
"To Helstonleigh? Certainly not. There is not the slightest necessity for it. I am quite certain that Mr. Galloway holds no clue that he has not imparted."
"Then if nobody goes down, I will go," said Roland, his eyes lighting with earnestness, his cheeks flushing. "I never thought to show myself in Helstonleigh again until fortune had altered with me; but I'd despise myself if I could let my own feelings of shame stand in old Arthur's light."
"Don't do anything of the kind," advised Hamish. "Believe me, Roland, it is altogether an ideal notion you have taken up. Your impulsive nature deceives you."
"I shall go, Hamish. I am not obliged to carry your consent with me."
"I should not give it," said Hamish, slightly laughing, but speaking in an unmistakably firm accent.
He was interrupted by a hacking cough. As Roland watched him, waiting until it should cease, watched the hectic colour it left behind it, a sudden recollection came over him of one who used to cough in much the same way before he died.
"I say, old fellow, you've caught cold," he said.
"No, I think not."