They laid him on a sofa there, covering the face with a rug, and presently, after the key was turned, and Colin had taken it from the lock, he saw the doctor to the door. In his admirable way he had conveyed the impression of being terribly shocked and keeping a firm hand on himself. “You can rest assured, Lord Yardley,” said the doctor, “that you did all that could be done. You acted with great wisdom in not moving him, and in sending at once for me. I wish I could have been of any use. Put your mind quite at rest about that. You’ll sleep I hope?” Colin raised soft swimming eyes. “I feel as if I should,” he said. “Now it is all over I feel most awfully tired. Good night, Dr. Martin. Ever so many thanks.” Colin bolted and barred the door, switched off the lights in the hall and went upstairs. Passing Dennis’s door, he saw that it still stood ajar, and a line of brightness was rectangled round it. He pushed it quietly open, expecting to see that Dennis had again fallen asleep while waiting for him to come and say good night. This time, however, the boy was wide-awake. “Oh, Father, what an age you’ve been,” he said. “What have you been doing?” It was as if some shutter had been snapped down in Colin’s mind. Behind it lay all that had happened in this last hour, bright and vivid as in some decked shop window but now cut off from view. “Dennis, you little wretch,” he said. “You ought to have been asleep long ago.” Dennis laughed. “Oh don’t be silly,” he said. “You didn’t think I was going to sleep without saying good night to you on my last night, did you? Come and sit down for two minutes.” Dennis wriggled away to the middle of the bed, leaving room for his father to sit on the edge of it, and put up his knees to form a back for him. “I expected you to be snoring,” said Colin. “I never snore!” said the indignant Dennis. “As for being asleep, I didn’t want to go to sleep.... Finished your jobs?” “Pretty well. I can leave the rest till morning.” Dennis sniffed, wrinkling up his nose like a young terrier. “Where have you been?” he said. “Your coat smells of Roman Catholic churches.” “Rot, my dear. Cigarettes.” “But it isn’t rot. Well, never mind. I say, Father, we have had a ripping holiday. And to-day’s been the best of all. And it’s ever so much nicer here than in London. I love Stanier.” “That’s a family affliction,” said Colin. “I wonder what you’ll do with it, when I’m dead and you get it.” “Oh, shut up. As if I should care about it without you.” “Dennis, what compliments!” said Colin. * * * * *