Dr. Cairn turned to his table, tapping at the blotting-pad with the tube of a stethoscope.
"I regret your attitude towards young Ferrara, Rob."
His son started.
"Regret it! I don't understand. Why, you, yourself brought about an open rupture on the night of Sir Michael's death."
"Nevertheless, I am sorry. You know, since you were present, that Sir Michael has left his niece—to my care—"
"Thank God for that!"
"I am glad, too, although there are many difficulties. But, furthermore, he enjoined me to—"
"Keep an eye on Antony! Yes, yes—but, heavens! he didn't know him for what he is!"
Dr. Cairn turned to him again.
"He did not; by a divine mercy, he never knew—what we know. But"—his clear eyes were raised to his son's—"the charge is none the less sacred, boy!"