And with that he calmly seated himself by his brother's side with the air of a man with ample leisure at his disposal. As the door closed he spoke. "Hadn't you better have a smoke?" "No. I must talk first. I wish you would sit where I can see you." Nap pulled his chair round at once and sat in the full glare of the noonday sun. "Is that enough lime-light for you? Now, what ails the great chief? Does he think his brother will run away while he sleeps?" There was a hint of tenderness underlying the banter in his voice. He stooped with the words and picked up a letter that lay on the floor. "This yours?" Lucas's half-extended hand fell. "And you may read it," he said. "Many thanks! I don't read women's letters unless they chance to be addressed to me--no, not even if they concern me very nearly." Nap's teeth gleamed for a moment. "I'm afraid you must play off your own bat, my worthy brother, though if you take my advice you'll postpone it. You're about used up, and I'm deuced thirsty. It's not a peaceful combination." Again, despite the nonchalance of his speech, it was not without a certain gentleness. He laid the letter on the bed within reach of his brother's hand. "I won't leave the premises till you have had your turn," he said. "I guess that's a fair offer anyway. Now curl up and rest." But Lucas negatived the suggestion instantly though very quietly. "I'll take my turn now if you've no objection. That ranch in Arizona, Boney, is beginning to worry me some. I want you to take it in hand. It's a little job peculiarly suited to your abilities." Nap jerked up his head with an odd gesture, not solely indicative of surprise. "What do you know of my abilities?" "More than most." Very steadily Lucas made answer. "I depend on you in a fashion you little dream of, and I guess you won't fail me." Nap's jaw slowly hardened. "I'm not very likely to disappoint you," he observed, "more especially as I have no intention of removing to Arizona at present." "No?" "No." "Not if I make a point of it?" Lucas spoke heavily, as if the effort of speech were great. His hand had clenched upon Anne's letter. Nap leaned forward without replying, the sunlight still shining upon his face, and looked at him attentively. "Yes," Lucas said very wearily. "It has come to that. I can't have you here disturbing the public peace. I won't have my own brother arraigned as a murderer. Nor will I have Anne Carfax pilloried by you for all England to throw mud at. I've stood a good deal from you, Boney, but I'm damned if I'm going to stand this." "The only question is, Can you prevent it?" said Nap, without the faintest change of countenance. "I am going to prevent it." "If you can." "I am going to prevent it," Lucas repeated. "Before we go any further, give me that shooter of yours." Nap hesitated for a single instant, then, with a gesture openly contemptuous, he took the revolver from his pocket and tossed it on to the bed.