Bertie's face fell. "Why not? I'm in dead earnest. I want to marry her,
just as soon as she will have me."

"Quite so," drawled Nap, from the depths of the lounge behind him. "And
she, I doubt not, wants to marry you--even sooner, if possible."

He had come up in his noiseless fashion unobserved. Attired in evening
dress, slim, sleek, well-groomed, he lay at full length and gazed up at
the two brothers, a malicious glitter in his eyes. He held an unlighted
cigarette between his fingers.

"Pray don't let me interrupt, Lucas," he said airily, ignoring Bertie's
sharp exclamation, which was not of a pacific nature. "I always enjoy
seeing you trying to teach the pride of the Errols not to make a fool of
himself. It's a gigantic undertaking, isn't it? Let me know if you
require any assistance."

He placed the cigarette between his lips and felt for some matches.

"I am going to turn my attention to you now," Lucas rejoined in his tired
voice. "Bertie, old chap, go and dress, will you? You can come to my room
afterwards."

"Bring me one of those spills first," said Nap.

Bertie stood rigid. He was white to the lips with the effort to control
himself. Nap, outstretched, supple as a tiger, lay and watched him
unwaveringly.