In a quiet hotel, high up on the cliffs, the doctor occupied a light and airy sitting-room, delightfully peaceful and cheerful and bright. Through the expansive windows could be seen the calm waters of the bay, with little wavelets breaking on the crescent of yellow sand, and the tall white column of the lighthouse shooting up from the reddish-hued rocks of the promontory. Montrose, after early greetings had taken place, noted none of these things, but flung himself into the nearest chair, feeling unaccountably weary. Eberstein, who had welcomed his young friend in his usual sincere and kindly manner, looked at him keenly, as he observed the boy's wilted appearance. "You seem to be tired," he remarked gently. "Well, I am," admitted Montrose, with a perplexed expression. "I don't know why I should be, as I slept all right last night and came here in a comfortable motor-car." "Whom did you come with?" "A fellow called Hardwick, who is an artist. A really capital chap, who is a first-rate friend. He got the car from some one he knows and gave me a lift." "Is he ill?" asked Eberstein, after a pause. "Strange you should ask that. He isn't ill, and he isn't well; that is, he suffers from a weak heart--not enough vitality. He is seeing a doctor." "I understand." "You understand what?" Montrose stared. "Why you look tired. In quite an unconscious way, this Hardwick has been drawing the vitality out of you." "Can that be done?" "Oh, yes! The weaker body frequently replenishes its life forces from any stronger body that is at hand. You have heard it said how old age eats up youth. That is a great truth." "David and Abishag," murmured Montrose wearily. Then he opened his eyes with an astonished look. "I am growing stronger." Eberstein smiled in an understanding manner. "I am giving you strength, and strength you will need very shortly, I assure you." "You said in London that trouble was coming. But so far everything is all right. Enistor is an extremely pleasant man, who quite approves of my marriage with Alice. We get on capitally together." "Was your first impression of him pleasant?" "No! I disliked him no end when we first met. But as there was no reason for me to do so I grew to like him." "Ah!" said the doctor with a world of meaning, "second thoughts are not always best. Have you met the man who wanted to marry Alice?" "Narvaez? Yes! He's a beast. I shall never get over my dislike for him." "You must not dislike him or any one," corrected Eberstein softly. "Pity Narvaez and pity Enistor, but be on your guard against both." "What can they do?" asked Montrose, with the disdainful confidence of youth. "Enistor can do nothing alone. Directed by Narvaez he can do much. And he will," concluded the doctor with emphasis. "Does the trouble you predicted come from that quarter?" "Yes!" "Well, it is two against two. Alice and I can fight her father and Narvaez."