"I admit that," Scott answered shortly. "Moreover, she is fully capable of taking care of herself. But Miss Bathurst is not. She is a mere child in many ways, but she takes things hard. If you are merely amusing yourself at her expense--" He stopped. "Well?" Sir Eustace threw the question with sudden anger. His great, lounging figure stiffened. A blue flame shot up in his eyes. Scott stood silent for a moment or two; then with a great effort he unclenched his hands and came forward. "I am not going to believe that of you unless you tell me it is so," he said. Sir Eustace reached out an unexpected hand without rising, and took him by the shoulder. "You may be small of stature, Stumpy," he said, "but you're the biggest fool I know. You're making mountains out of molehills, and you'll get yourself into trouble if you're not careful." Scott looked at him. "Do you imagine I'm afraid of you, I wonder?" he said, a faint tremor of irony in his quiet voice. Sir Eustace's hold tightened. His mouth was hard. "I imagine that I could make things highly unpleasant for you if you provoked me too far," he said. "And let me warn you, you have gone quite far enough in a matter in which you have no concern whatever. I never have stood any interference from you and I never will. Let that be understood--once for all!" He met Scott's look with eyes of smouldering wrath. There was more than warning in his hold; it conveyed menace. Yet Scott, very pale, supremely dignified, made no motion to retreat. "You have not answered me yet," he said. "I must have an answer." Sir Eustace's brows met in a thick and threatening line. "You will have very much more than you bargain for if you persist," he said. "Meaning that I am to draw my own conclusions?" Scott asked, unmoved. The smouldering fire suddenly blazed into flame. He pulled Scott to him with the movement of a giant, and bent him irresistibly downwards. "I will show you what I mean," he said. Scott made a swift, instinctive effort to free himself, but the next instant he was passive. Only as the relentless hands forced him lower he spoke, his voice quick and breathless. "You can hammer me to your heart's content, but you'll get nothing out of it. That sort of thing simply doesn't count--with me." Sir Eustace held him in a vice-like grip. "Are you going to take it lying down then?" he questioned grimly. "I'm not going to fight you certainly." Scott's voice had a faint quiver of humour in it, as though he jested at his own expense. "Not--that is--in a physical sense. If you choose to resort to brute force, that's your affair. And I fancy you'll be sorry afterwards. But it will make no actual difference to me." He broke off, breathing short and hard, like a man who struggles against odds yet with no thought of yielding.