“I’ve studied your family tree with care, as you should know, my lord; and a map of Egypt”--he tapped the parchment before him--“goes well with it. And see, my lord, Egypt concerns you too. Lord Eglington is there, and ‘tis time he was returning-ay, ‘tis time.” There was a baleful look in Soolsby’s eyes. Whatever he might think, whatever considerations might arise at other times, a sinister feeling came upon him when Eglington was with him. “And, my lord,” he went on, “I’d be glad to know that you’ve sent for him, and told him the truth.” “Have you?” Eglington flicked the ash from his cigar, speaking coolly. Soolsby looked at him with his honest blue eyes aflame, and answered deliberately: “I was not for taking your place, my lord. ‘Twas my duty to tell you, but the rest was between you and the Earl of Eglington.” “That was thoughtful of you, Soolsby. And Miss Claridge?” “I told you that night, my lord, that only her father and myself knew; and what was then is now.” A look of relief stole across Eglington’s face. “Of course--of course. These things need a lot of thought, Soolsby. One must act with care--no haste, no flurry, no mistakes.” “I would not wait too long, my lord, or be too careful.” There was menace in the tone. “But if you go at things blind, you’re likely to hurt where you don’t mean to hurt. When you’re mowing in a field by a school-house, you must look out for the children asleep in the grass. Sometimes the longest way round is the shortest way home.” “Do you mean to do it or not, my lord? I’ve left it to you as a gentleman.” “It’s going to upset more than you think, Soolsby. Suppose he, out there in Egypt”--he pointed again to the map--“doesn’t thank me for the information. Suppose he says no, and--” “Right’s right. Give him the chance, my lord. How can you know, unless you tell him the truth?” “Do you like living, Soolsby?” “Do you want to kill me, my lord?” There was a dark look in Eglington’s face. “But answer me, do you want to live?” “I want to live long enough to see the Earl of Eglington in his own house.” “Well, I’ve made that possible. The other night when you were telling me your little story, you were near sending yourself into eternity--as near as I am knocking this ash off my cigar.” His little finger almost touched the ash. “Your hand was as near touching a wire charged with death. I saw it. It would have been better for me if you had gone; but I shut off the electricity. Suppose I hadn’t, could I have been blamed? It would have been an accident. Providence did not intervene; I did. You owe me something, Soolsby.”