The speaker entered to arrange his photographic apparatus, of which, in truth, he was getting weary; and De Stancy smoked on the terrace till Dare should be ready. While he waited his sister looked out upon him from an upper casement, having caught sight of him as she came from Paula in the telegraph-room. ‘Well, Lottie, what news this morning?’ he said gaily. ‘Nothing of importance. We are quite well.’.... She added with hesitation, ‘There is one piece of news; Mr. Havill--but perhaps you have heard it in Markton?’ ‘Nothing.’ ‘Mr. Havill has resigned his appointment as architect to the castle.’ ‘What?--who has it, then?’ ‘Mr. Somerset.’ ‘Appointed?’ ‘Yes--by telegraph.’ ‘When is he coming?’ said De Stancy in consternation. ‘About the tenth, we think.’ Charlotte was concerned to see her brother’s face, and withdrew from the window that he might not question her further. De Stancy went into the hall, and on to the gallery, where Dare was standing as still as a caryatid. ‘I have heard every word,’ said Dare. ‘Well, what does it mean? Has that fool Havill done it on purpose to annoy me? What conceivable reason can the man have for throwing up an appointment he has worked so hard for, at the moment he has got it, and in the time of his greatest need?’ Dare guessed, for he had seen a little way into Havill’s soul during the brief period of their confederacy. But he was very far from saying what he guessed. Yet he unconsciously revealed by other words the nocturnal shades in his character which had made that confederacy possible. ‘Somerset coming after all!’ he replied. ‘By God! that little six-barrelled friend of mine, and a good resolution, and he would never arrive!’ ‘What!’ said Captain De Stancy, paling with horror as he gathered the other’s sinister meaning. Dare instantly recollected himself. ‘One is tempted to say anything at such a moment,’ he replied hastily. ‘Since he is to come, let him come, for me,’ continued De Stancy, with reactionary distinctness, and still gazing gravely into the young man’s face. ‘The battle shall be fairly fought out. Fair play, even to a rival--remember that, boy.... Why are you here?--unnaturally concerning yourself with the passions of a man of my age, as if you were the parent, and I the son? Would to heaven, Willy, you had done as I wished you to do, and led the life of a steady, thoughtful young man! Instead of meddling here, you should now have been in some studio, college, or professional man’s chambers, engaged in a useful pursuit which might have made one proud to own you. But you were so precocious and headstrong; and this is what you have come to: you promise to be worthless!’