He did not answer me except with his eyes—those eyes which could say so much.
My anger was still hot within me. My inborn sense of fairness deeply resented this conviction on less than even circumstantial evidence; and, at the back of all that, I,—as well as he, as well as Harry,—was a Brammerton, with a Brammerton's temperament.
"Do you mean this, father?" I asked.
"Go!" he reiterated. "I have nothing more to say to such an unnatural son, such an unnatural brother as you are."
I bowed, pulled my jacket together with a shrug and buttoned it up. After all,—what mattered it? I was in the right and I knew it.
"All right, father! Some day, I know you will be sorry."
I turned on my heel and left the armoury.
The servants were clustering at the end of the corridor, with frightened eyes and pale faces. They opened up and shuffled uneasily as I passed through.
"William," I said to the butler, "you had better go in there. You may be needed."
"Yes, sir! yes, sir!" he answered, and hurried to obey.