Speed rose next morning with a sense of his dangers and responsibilities. He had sat up late the night before, thinking things over to the accompaniment of much whisky and soda. Therefore, his head was heavy and his eyes were dull as he crept down late to breakfast. He was inclined to take the gloomiest view of the situation; the cheerfulness of Mr. George Dashwood irritated him.

Whatever Dashwood's faults were, he did not number dissipation of that degrading kind amongst them. He looked cheerful enough as he sat before the open window reading the paper and smoking an after-breakfast cigarette. He greeted Speed heartily.

"Why do you smoke here?" the latter growled. "You know I can't stand the smell of tobacco before I've had my breakfast. Go outside and finish it."

"All right, my dear fellow," Dashwood said politely. There was something almost cringing in his manner. "Sorry to annoy you. Fine morning."

The speaker appeared anxious to please. He wanted to ignore the unpleasant feeling that Speed despised him. There was little chance now of burning incense on the altar of family pride; Speed took care of that. He was at no pains to conceal the fact that he regarded Dashwood as a pensioner, dependent upon his bounty, and to be treated accordingly. Dashwood had fallen a long way indeed when he accepted the hospitality of his supplanter.

"What a confounded nuisance that old beggar is," he muttered, heedless of the fact that Slight stood by the sideboard. "I shall have to get rid of him altogether. If he had the spirit of a man he would not stay here. And they talk of the pride of the Dashwoods. Slight, why aren't there any curried eggs and some devilled kidneys? Am I always to be telling you about it? What a fine thing it is to be a pampered, lazy lout of a man-servant. What are you gaping at?"

"The eggs are under the silver cover, sir," Slight replied. "The kidneys are here over the spirit lamp, sir. The rest of your remarks are unnecessary, sir."

"Oh, are they? Did you behave in this insolent way in Sir Ralph's time?"

"Sir Ralph was a gentleman, sir. He knew how to speak to his dependents."

"Oh, did he?" Speed roared, "I suppose I don't. If I like to swear at my confounded flunkeys I'll do it. They can take it out in extra wages. If this kind of thing goes on we shall part, Slight."

"Very good, sir," Slight responded. "You have only to say the word. You may be interested to hear that only last night I had great difficulty in preventing the whole of the servants from resigning in a body."

Speed had no more to say. He was half afraid of a quarrel to the end with Slight. The latter knew too much. The studied insolence that underlay his respectful manner proved that. He moved about the room now with the air of a man who is depriving himself of the decencies of life. He poured out the coffee in a lordly way, as if under protest. Speed made advances towards conciliation.

"Mr. Mayfield is coming down tonight," he said, "he will dine here and probably stay till tomorrow. Tell the housekeeper this. Mr. Darnley will dine here also. I should like the cook to be sure of something extra. I can leave you to see to the wines."

"Mr. Darnley dining here, sir?" Slight asked with a rising inflection of voice. "Coming here tonight to meet that--I mean, Mr. Mayfield?"

"Well, why not? Any objection to make, Slight? Any little alteration to suit you? You have only to mention it."

Slight muttered a hasty apology. He had come very near to betraying himself. As he looked into Speed's bloodshot eyes he saw something there that filled his heart with a sudden fear. For the old man knew everything; there was not a single move in the game with which he was not acquainted.

But Speed had forgotten all about Slight and his little slip. A small liqueur and a cigarette put him on good terms with himself once more. It was a beautiful day, too, with a soft breeze and brilliant sunshine. Across the park the deer were moving in a dappled line; the fine old gardens were looking their very best. As Speed paced up and down the terrace one gardener and another touched their hats to him. It filled him with a feeling of pleasure--flattered self-importance. It was worth the risk to be the head of a place like this, to feel that it was all his own. And only two years before he had been the slave of the pen, the toady of a sweating employer.

Speed felt that he could never give it up again. In his heart he was a murderer, so far as Ralph Darnley was concerned. He had read somewhere............