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Sometimes I think you could be a young gentleman; then at others . . . no, no; because there is an earthiness about you that attaches you to people.'Joseph turned his head now as the door opened and was thankful to see Bright corning back, and when Bright said to him, 'You had better go down and get your breakfast now, Carter,' he immediately left the room.

653But outside in the corridor he did not hurry towards the gallery and the stairs but, turning about, he went to the top end of the corridor where the closet was.It was a large room holding three cornpartments and in each was a toilet pail and also a long shelf attached to the wall on which stood a basin and jug, and underneath it a rack on which were hung two towels. In the room itself there was a large dressing table on which were a number of toiletries, together with a silver-backed hand mirror and a number of brushes.

There was a long padded stool in front of the dressing table and on this he sat down and, leaning forward, rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands for a moment as he allowed his mind to roam over what had taken place during the last half hour. He did not at first try to recollect what had passed between the father and son in that room, although he knew it was of great significance, but his mind dwelt on the strange request from the old man. What had been in that case? And he had been so secretive about it. If he had taken anything out of it, where could he hope to hide it? His bed was stripped as

654many as three times in the day. Perhaps they were papers, a late will or something, though surely that would be at his solicitor's. Oh! He rose to his feet, went out and down the stairs.Minnie was coming from the drawingroom, carrying a scuttleful of ashes in one hand and a basket holding hearth brushes in the other. She paused and, looking at him, she said, This all used to be done, had to be done, afore seven in the mornin's, but what can you expect in this mad house? They went at it again, didn't they?'When he held out his hand to take a heavy pail from her, she said, It's all right, lad, but ta all the same;' then added as she walked on, 'What was it all about?'He was tactful in saying, *I was in the corridor at the time with Mr Bright.'He pushed open the kitchen door for her and as she passed through she nodded at him, saying, 'He'll kill the missis one of these days; she'll have another heart attack, you'll see.' Then lowering her voice as she went up the kitchen, she added, 'That's if Miss Henrietta doesn't do for him afore that.

By! lad, you haven't seen anything yet. As cook says,

655she's like a tiger going for an elephant. Like the picture in one of the old books up in the nursery.' She had reached the table and as she put the bucket down she looked across at cook and said, 'You remember that picture, don't you, cook, about the tiger and the elephant? And the next picture showed you where the tiger was hanging on to the elephant's throat?''Yes'-cook nodded at her-'but what about it?''I was only saying to Carter here, if he ever sees Miss Henrietta in action she'd be like that.''God forbid! Oh, aye, God forbid! Because if that happened again it would be the finish of her.' Then turning to Joseph, she added, 'Your breakfast'll be kizzened up to cork, lad. You're late.''I'm not very hungry.''You're never very hungry. I've never seen anybody at your age eat less.' She had gone to the oven and taken out a covered plate. 'Anyway, the egg'll be as tough as the top of your boots; the bacon, though, an' the bread should be all right. Come on, lad.'Joseph sat at the corner of the table and 656ate most of what his mother would have termed a kizzened-up disgrace.The rest of the day was comparatively quiet. In the afternoon the mistress brought her daughter into the bedroom, and they sat close together near the head of the bed and there was little ensuing talk, and certainly no suggestion of playing whist today; at least Joseph did not hear of it, for Bright had ordered him into the dressing-room and he himself had followed and closed the door.The dressing-room was as large as an ordinary bedroom. Along two walls were wardrobes reaching almost to the ceiling, and also mahogany tallboys, the drawers of which Joseph soon discovered were amazingly full of different sets of underwear, all neatly arranged. Each tallboy also had a pull-out flap or table on which could be arranged cufflinks, studs, garters and such like accoutrements that were necessary for the dressing of a gentleman.A long table in the middle of the room was used for pressing clothes. At one end of this was a smaller table on which stood a spirit stove and, resting on top of it, a flatiron. The window at the far end of the room 657overlooked the drive, and Bright was standing near it now, saying to Joseph as he pointed to a drawer to the side of him: 'I'll have you clear that. It's full of shirts. A lot of them haven't been used for years; they'll be stained, likely, with age. I'll have to see the mistress about them; they could be given away. Then I think we'll bring some more sheets up from the linen cupboard.' He suddenly turned and glanced at the window; then going close to it, he looked down, saying under his breath, 'Pheasants. He's been enjoying himself.'Joseph, standing to his side now, could see the rider nearing the yard, and there were a number of birds hanging from his saddle. Bright glanced at him: 'I wonder what it's like to be ostracized,' he said. The hunt's got too hot for him. At times I have felt I could be sorry for him, but only at times, and then the time was short. You know, from boy to man he was selfish, and I found him out to be a liar even as a child. The servants were blamed for things they never did. There was only one period during which he seemed to be different, and that was when he was courting the mistress. Then of a sud-L

658den that ended. We had an old coachman here, and he always said Mr Lionel was a sprig of his grandfather, who had been a rake.'Bright sighed, and was about to turn away but swung back to Joseph and, his finger wagging in his admonitory manner, he said, 'Your ears were as open as mine this morning and you'll be asking yourself questions about what you heard. Now I advise you to forget that episode and don't repeat any of it.''Why?''Why?' Bright drew himself upwards now and actually bristled as he repeated again, 'Why? Because, young man, it's none of your business.''How do you know it isn't?'Bright's eyes widened. He poked his head forward; then his face screwed up, and now he was peering at Joseph, and the words came from under his breath, saying, 'Who are you, anyway? I've always had my doubts about you. Do you mean mischief? You are not the usual type who does work like this. I've known it from the beginning. Now I ask

659you, why have you come here? Who are you?'Joseph stared back at him for a moment. 'I am Joseph Carter,' he said. *I told you, and I came here because I wanted a job, a different kind of job. Perhaps just to see how the other half lived, as the saying goes.'Bright stepped back from him, his face still holding a look of puzzled enquiry. But then he drew in a long deep breath and, pointing to the drawer again, said,

'Well, get on with it;' then he went out of the room but not into the bedroom.Joseph did not immediately get on with it, as bidden, but returned to the window and looked down on to the drive. He could picture the man on the horse, a gun slung across his shoulder, the pheasants hanging from the pommel. Then, as if the thought had probed him with a sharp instrument, he turned and looked towards the closed bedroom door. That case. His gaze swung back to the bottom drawer from where he had taken the case ... a gun case? A pistol case? A revolver case? He recalled seeing something like it in a magic lantern slide dealing with a pirate story. But a gun.

660Where could he hide a gun? That was an impossibility. He made a movement towards the drawer; then stopped. What excuse could he give to Bright should he come upon him handling that case? Bright would certainly know all about its presence there. He looked towards the door again. Should he play safe and tell Bright? No, no; he had promised. But what he must do was get his hands underneath that feather tick, because if there was any place for a gun it would be there, and that would be the only place.

He couldn't, though, do anything until tomorrow. But what if he meant to use it tonight?

8Tomorrow was here, and he put his hand under the feather tick and groped, but could find nothing. He even, supposedly by accident, pulled the bolster away and was rewarded for his stupidity by a reprimand from Bright and a growl from the master, saying, 'Do you both intend to keep me stuck up here like a wooden dolly?'So another day passed; and more days passed, and he had to come to the conclusion that the old man couldn't have taken anything out of that case. Then there came a Friday, a certain Friday, when he found out differently.It had been raining for the past twentyfour hours. Part of the drive was flooded; it was impossible to work in the garden, even in the greenhouses; and so Henrietta had, for 662the past two days, been confined almost entirely to her room, which was situated next to her mother's bedroom.She stood now looking through the bleared window pane in the direction of the garden, which she couldn't make out through the slanting, wind-driven rain, and after a while, sighing, she turned once more to the easy chair that was set close to a small fireplace, in which a fire dully glowed. She was wearing a shawl over her woollen dress and she pulled it tightly around her neck as she sat down; then she took up a book from a table to the side of her and idly flicked the pages, because she knew the story by heart. It was about a princess who was so sensitive that she could detect a pea while lying on top of a number of mattresses, and it ended that because of her sensitivity she was chosen to be the wife of the prince, and so lived happily ever after . , . What could happy ever after mean when one wasn't happy now?What was happy? What did happy mean? The feeling that she had when sitting near her mama? or when she was digging in the garden? Oh, yes, yes, when she was digging 663in the garden, not just picking out seedlings but actually digging. Her hands now left the book and took on the position of holding a spade, and when she dug it to the side of her, she told herself, yes, when she was holding the spade, pushing it into the ground, pushing, pushing hard . . . Yes, hard. Again she made the movements with her hands as if digging.Her grandfather was nice, but he was very old.

When would she be old?She liked whist. And that young man. Yes, yes; he was kind. She liked his eyes.

He was kind, and his hand was gentle. Yes, she liked him.But she didn't like . . . Her thoughts stopped suddenly and she put her hands to her head and rocked from side to side now. There were noises in there. Why were there always noises in there? When she thought of her father they grew louder, screeching, screaming. She hated him. Her hands came from her head now and she was digging once more to the side of her, thrusting the spade into the imaginary ground.Abruptly she rose to her feet. She felt ill, not nice, when she thought of him. He was

664bad. He was going to send her away from her mama. He always said that . . . His mouth was big and wide when he said he would lock her up. When had he first said he would lock her up? From the day he called her by her new name: not Henrietta but idiot.Idiot!She didn't like that, the way his lips stretched when they said idiot. It was bad. Was she bad?Oh, she would have to walk. She could not go into her mama, for her mama was resting. She was very tired again. She would go and look at the pictures in the gallery. No. No. Better not, not that way. No, she would go along the corridor to her grandpapa's room and they would play cribbage. But if he was too tired as well, the young man would play with her. They would be quiet and sit in the far corner; they had done that the other day.She pulled the shawl around her, opened the door, went into the corridor, then turned and closed the door quietly. But she had taken only two steps when, at the far end, coming out of her grandpapa's room, was the man.

665Her first instinct was to run back into the room; but then the noise in her head became louder, so loud that it seemed to affect her eyes and for a moment the man seemed to be blotted from her sight. Then she was moving forward; and he, too, was moving.She did not hug the wall as she sometimes did, but she forced her jangling body to walk up the middle. When he was within touching distance, his arm came out bent from the elbow and, the hand, horizontal and stiff, caught her across the chin; then, with a great cry erupting from the exploding noises in her head, she sprang. Her hands went for his face, her nails clawing so deeply into it that he staggered back, one fist beating her while the other gripped a wrist. But it was as he was dragging her hand from his that her teeth dug deep into his thumb.The corridor was full of screams from them both, for no matter what he did he could not rid himself of her clawing hands until, at last, other hands came on her, and as Bright pulled her away, Joseph thrust the man back against the wall, only to receive a punch in the chest that sent him reeling and, in his turn, he almost knocked the mistress

666over. It was her hands that steadied him before she rushed to her daughter to help Bright guide the flailing body along the corridor and into the master's bedroom.Joseph was left with the man, and for a moment they stood glaring at each other; but seeing that the man was about to make for the bedroom, Joseph ran ahead of him.Bright and the mistress were trying to control the writhing girl, while the old man had pulled himself up from the pillows and was yelling, 'In the name of God! What's this now!' only to become silent when there appeared in the doorway the bloodstained figure of his son.Lionel Filmore walked slowly up to his father's bed, while his hand kept wiping away the blood that was running down his face, spilling over his mouth and dripping from his chin. Halfway up the side of the bed he stopped and looked towards Joseph, who was now standing near the head of the bed, and the look said, Get out of my way! and so fearsome did the man appear that Joseph stepped back towards the wardrobe.Now father and son were gazing at each other, and it was Lionel who spoke first.

667'She's sane, you said? Look!* He drew his hand first down one blood-covered cheek then down the other, and again he said, 'Look!' and held up his thumb from where the blood was running down into the cuff of his shirt. 'What do you say to this, Father . . . she's sane? If I wanted final proof I've got it. Before, her attacks were mere flea bites to this. Now I'm not going to do a thing to myself, not even to put a handkerchief to my face, but I'm going to ride in and present myself to Doctor Leadman and his disbelieving associate, and, Father, you can do what the hell you like about the other business. But you will not stop me in this, because I'll have her in a strait-jacket if it's the last thing I do.' He looked across the bed now to where his daughter was still writhing, but it was on his wife his eyes came to rest as he ended, 'And it's a great pity her mother couldn't accompany her.*'Don't do this, Lionel.' The old man's voice was quiet. 'I beg of you, don't do this.''Father,'-Lionel's voice, too, was low'if you could go on your gouty knees to me, it wouldn't make the slightest difference. I've stood all I'm going to stand, I was going to