"I guess you do," Nap said, with the ghost of a smile, "better even than I know myself. You know just how little I am to be trusted." "I trust you, Boney, absolutely, implicitly, from the bottom of my soul." The words left Lucas Errol's lips with something of the solemnity of an oath. He held out a quiet hand. "Now let me sleep," he said. Nap rose. He stood for a moment in silence, holding the friendly hand, as if he wished to speak, but could not. Then suddenly he bent. "Good-night, dear chap!" he said in a whisper, and with the words he stooped and kissed the lined forehead of the man who trusted him.... Half an hour later the door of the adjoining room opened noiselessly and Tawny Hudson peered in. One brother was sleeping, the quiet, refreshing sleep of a mind at rest. The other sat watching by his side with fixed inscrutable eyes. The latter did not stir, though in some indefinable way he made Tawny Hudson know that he was aware of his presence, and did not desire his closer proximity. Obedient to the unspoken command, the man did not come beyond the threshold; but he stood there for many seconds, glowering with the eyes of a monstrous, malignant baboon. When at length he retired he left the door ajar, and a very curious smile flickered across Nap's face. But still he did not turn his head. CHAPTER XIV AT THE GATE OF DEATH The second time that Tawny Hudson was driven from his master's side was on a day of splendid spring--English April at its best. Till the very last moment he lingered, and it was Lucas himself with his final "Go, Tawny!" who sent him from the room. They would not even let him wait, as Nap was waiting, till the anaesthetic had done its work. Black hatred gripped the man's heart as he crept away. What was Nap anyway that he should be thus honoured? The cloud that had attended his coming had made a deep impression upon Hudson. He had watched the lines upon his master's face till he knew them by heart. He knew when anxiety kept the weary eyes from closing. He knew when the effort of the mind was more than the body could endure. Of Lucas's pleasure at his brother's return he raised no question, but that it would have been infinitely better for him had Nap remained away he was firmly convinced. And he knew with the sure intuition that unceasing vigilance had developed in him that Capper thought the same. Capper resented as he did the intrusion of the black sheep of the family. But Capper was obviously powerless--even Capper, who so ruthlessly expelled him from his master's presence, had proved impotent when it came to removing Nap.