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He then turned to Joseph and asked him: 'What did he actually do with the whip?''Just what she said, sir.

He gave the impression he was hitting out at someone.'William nodded slowly now, and lifting his head from the pillow he looked at Bright and muttered, 'If that starts again, we're in 637for trouble, and it can't go on, can it, Bright?'It was some little time before Bright said, 'No, sir, not indefinitely.''As you say, not indefinitely.' And William Filmore turned to his granddaughter and said brightly, 'We will play cribbage.'But the young girl shook her head.'Yes, we shall. I ... I want to be entertained, and Carter there'-he thumbed towards Joseph-'he can't play cribbage. Says he plays whist.

That's an idea . . . Have you ever played whist, Bright?''No, sir; I haven't played whist.''Well, you're never too old to learn. Bring a table round here and . . .''Do you think it wise, sir?''Bright-' And there followed a silence before the old man said, 'We've been together for a long time, but can you tell me when I've done anything that you would consider wise?' and his tone rising quite sharply, and as if he would brook no further denial, he said, 'Bring a table round;' then looked at his granddaughter and explained: 'We . . . play . . . whist. A new . . . card . . . game. Carter, here'-again 638he thumbed towards Joseph-'he's . . . he's . . . going ... to show us, at least you and Bright here.' . .

.The dream stage was back again, for here he was sitting pressed close to the side of a four-poster bed and the man who didn't know he was his grandfather was propped up above him. Next to him sat his half-sister, and the manservant, seated on a high dressing-table stool, was sitting next to her, and as he dealt the cards he had a great desire to laugh. But it wouldn't have been ordinary laughter, it would have been touching on hysteria, for he knew he would have laughed like some women laugh before they burst out crying. The only person missing from this scene, he thought, was Mrs Hanratty. She should be seated on the bed. Although there would be no place for her in the four-handed game, she would have been chatting away, homilies tripping from her tongue.The dream deepened when, showing the girl sitting next to him how to arrange the cards into suits in her hand, their faces had come close when her eyes had looked into his while she smiled, and there had come into his being a feeling such as he had never 639experienced before, not even when he first realized he loved Amy, not as a playmate, not as a pal, not as a boy, but as a man, and just as he had thought then he could do nothing about it, so he could do nothing about this either, could he? this feeling of kinship, this feeling that he belonged and that someone belonged to him.But of a sudden there also entered into him the knowledge from where they had both sprung; and the beauty of that moment, and the tie, faded.'You look tired, lad.' 'I am tired, Mrs Hanratty.'

'Finding it too hard down there, are you?* 'No, not really, because it isn't hard work, it's just the constant trotting up and down stairs all day.''What have you actually got to do?' So as he worked his way through a large meat pudding, which she termed a potpie, he gave her a rough outline of his duties, and at the end she said, 'Well, it strikes me it needs two of you or three of you on that job. And what you should have had before you had your dinner was a hot wash down. It wouldfe 640help you to get the smell out of your nose. Anyway, I'll see to it the morrow night.''Oh, don't trouble yourself, Mrs Hanratty.''No trouble at all, lad, no trouble at all. How long d'you think you'll stay there, anyway?''I don't know. Perhaps till the old man dies. Bright says the doctor gave him six months to live and that was a year ago. One of his legs is in a dreadful state and he has lost the use of both of them.''Is he paralyzed?''I don't really know. He can use his upper body quite well.''What are the others really like?''Oh, the mistress seems very nice, reserved, but very nice.''And her daughter?''Well, she's a beautiful girl, really beautiful, but afflicted in a way. Yet, she's sensible.''Sensible but afflicted.''Oh yes, she's perfectly all right in her mind. It's because of her deafness that she cannot speak properly.'' Tis said roundabout that she fights like a wild beast at times.'

641Yes, he could imagine she would, and with reason. Yes, with reason. He now had a vivid mental picture of the man on the horse whipping an imaginary object which the girl knew wasn't imaginary at all.

But what he had to acknowledge was that if that girl was his half-sister and the old bedridden man his grandfather, then that man who, given the chance, would have wielded that whip on his daughter, was his father.

As Joseph made his way from Mrs Hanratty's along the darkening road in the mornings and returned there along the darkening road at night, the period with the kind old woman and the sound sleep in the feather tick was but a slight interlude away from the house; in fact, once he entered it it was as if he had never left it.The cook, eyes still blinking from sleep, would push a mug of strong tea towards him, and Katie and Minnie, usually in the same manner, would say, 'By! it's a snifter out there.' At times Ron and Jimmy would be in the kitchen, each with a mug of tea, and they would nod at him as if he had passed through just a moment ago.Then there was Mr Bright. On this morning he greeted him with, The master's had a

643bad night, with a great deal of pain. I was about to send for the doctor at one stage, but he's easier now. So, be gentle when you're handling him,' only immediately to excuse any insinuation in his words that Joseph had been rough in his handling by adding, 'But I must admit you are less rough than some others have been.'After donning the white overall which since the first day he had been given to wear, he went into the bedroom and, approaching the bed, he said, 'Good-morning, sir,''Oh, Carter . . . what kind

... of a morning ... is it?''It's very fresh, sir, nippy.''Well . . . soon be into November.' There was a long pause now and then he said, 'She enjoyed the game yesterday,''I am pleased, sir,''She's . . . she's very quick . . . don't you think?''Yes, indeed, sir, she's very quick to learn,''No ... no dead hay ... in the ... loft, eh?'Joseph smiled, then said, 'No, sir; no dead hay in the loft.*And then the routine began: the changingJL

644of the bed, the washing of the face and upper body, the shaving of the bristles. Bright did this on his own, gently lifting one piece of jowled flesh after the other, the razor gliding smoothly over it, and this always brought a look of admiration from Joseph.Then followed breakfast: first, the master's to be brought up and given help to eat it, which business, more than any other in the day, seemed to annoy him.

Then Bright would go downstairs for his first meal, and when he returned at nine o'clock, Joseph would be allowed to go for his.But this morning it was almost half-past nine when he left the room, and immediately his step slowed as he saw, approaching from the other end of the corridor . . . the man.He was dressed in his riding habit, but without his hat. His figure was tall and straight; there was only a slight bulge to his stomach, and his thick fair hair was a little grizzled above the ears. His face looked red, as if in a continual flush, and the skin below the eyes was puffed. Yet, altogether he presented a very handsome man.They were almost abreast when Lionel suddenly stopped and, his eyes narrowing, 645he stared at the young man, first into his face, then over the length of him, before his gaze once more rested on his face. His head then moved slightly back and to the side and the action was one of inquiry, as were the words, 'Who are you?'What could he say to this? 'I am your son?' Yet he did not want to claim kinship with this man.'My name is Joseph Carter.'The tone bore no deference, and this wasn't lost on Lionel Filmore, for now he cried, 'Say sir, when you address me! Do you understand?''Yes, I understand.''Don't you dare use that tone to me, you insolent pup. Where do you come from?''That's my business.' He had backed a step from the man now, and Lionel Filmore's voice was at its loudest as he cried, 'Your business, indeed! Well, it won't be your business much longer in this house.' And now at the top of his voice he yelled, 'Bright! Bright!'When the bedroom door opened and Bright appeared in the corridor Lionel.

646Filmore marched towards him, commanding, 'Get rid of that man!''What, sir?''You heard what I said, get rid of him! He's insolent.' He turned and glanced back at the figure who was still standing in the corridor and glaring at him now. Then he cried, 'Why do you take such scum on?' and leaving Bright to do his supposed duty, he marched into his father's bedroom.Immediately, Bright hurried towards Joseph and gripped his arm and as he shook it he said, 'Take no notice.' Now they were both made to turn and look back towards the open door for the old man was yelling, 'This is still my house! I shall engage whom I like and if there is any dismissing to be done, I will do it.''The fellow was insolent, I tell you. His tone, his manner, everything about him; he refused to address me correctly.''Oh. Oh, did he? And what would you call correctly, Lionel, eh? Address you correctly? I know how I would address you. I know what I would say if-' There was a gasping for breath here; then the voice, still loud, went on, 'As I said, I know what I would say

647if I were addressing you correctly. You understand me, man? You understand rne? Anyway, why the honour of this visit so early in the morning?'There was a pause before Lionel Filmore's voice came, saying, 'I want to impress some sense into you.5'Oh, is that it? Is that it?''You know what I mean, sir.

You have got to sell the rest of the bottom land. We're in straits.'There was the sound of a weird throaty laugh in the old man's voice coming to them now: 'In straits?' he was saying sarcastically. 'Dear, dear!

we're in straits and you have just found that out, when you've spent your time sitting on your backside, or hopping from one inferior post to another for years, and you tell me we're in straits. Get out! Now I say to you, get out!''You've got to come to reason, Father. Look, I hate to put pressure on you but I hold the trump card and you know what it is. I'll have her encased.'A longer silence ensued; then the old man's voice, lower now, came to them, saying, 'You try that. You make a final bid for 648that, Lionel, and it'll be the last bid you'll make, I promise you. You should know me: it is I who hold the trump card. And then there is Douglas; he holds a bigger trump even than I do. Have you forgotten that? Do you think that if I can be pushed off tomorrow you'll be safe? You're a fool. There's always Douglas. And the hate that you have for so many of us is nothing compared to the hate he has for you.''Huh!' Lionel's voice, too, was low now. That doesn't frighten me. You could do nothing now, either of you. Have you ever thought that I could turn the tables on him? Yes; just think of it. He put up such a good act it was too good to be true. Think of that, Father. And I would, too, I'd fight him to my last breath.'Joseph and Bright were standing close together staring now towards the far door, and when Lionel Filmore stormed out into the corridor, whatever they expected, it wasn't that he would pass them without a glance.Now Bright was hurrying back into the room with Joseph behind him. The old man was lying back on his pillows, his head deep in them. Bright just glanced at him, then 649hurried to the table and, pouring out a measure of brown liquid from a bottle into a glass, he carried it to the bed, raised his master's head, put the glass to his lips and tipped it up. Then he stood by the bed waiting. It was some minutes before the old man's breath became easy and he could say to Bright,

'Where . . . where is your mistress?''I ... I think she's still in her room, sir.''Well, go to her, explain . . .

You heard, didn't you?''Yes, sir.''Well, tell her . . . keep the child close. Tell her ... he means business.''Yes, sir.'Bright moved back from the bed, made a pretence of placing the glass on the table and called Joseph to him; then under his breath, he said, 'Stay with him. Sit ... sit by the bed. I won't be a minute or so.'Joseph hadn't been seated for more than a minute when the old man, turning his head towards him, said, 'Carter.''Yes, sir?''Go into the dressing-room . . . bottom 650drawer under . . , under riding togs . . long box, fetch it. Quick!*Joseph went quickly. He pulled open the drawer, pushed aside the riding suits that had probably not been worn for a good many years, and disclosed a long mahogany box. He whipped it up and was back to the bed within seconds; then was surprised when the old man said, 'Go . , . go into the dressing-room. I'll , f . I'll call you.*William Filmore made an effort to sit up and his bony fingers fumbled at the two catches on the box, and when he lifted the lid it was to disclose two revolvers. Without hesitation he took one out, looked to ascertain if it was loaded, then released the safety catch. Lifting his arm above his head, he wedged the pistol into a deep fold of the heavy brocade curtain where it was drawn together with a thick, silk rope-like cord that was looped over a brass hook protruding from the wall, its ends weighed down with two heavily braided and lead-weighted tassels.Now, pressing his head well back into the pillows, he held it there for a moment; then again lifting a hand, he adjusted a fold of the

651curtain so that it covered the dark object. Now he closed the lid of the case, calling as he did so,

'Carter! Carter!'When Joseph appeared he thrust the case at him, saying, Tut it back quick! Don't look at it. Do you hear? Don't look at it. Quick! Quick!' And as Joseph hurried into the dressing-room the voice followed him, saying, 'Then come back here.'Hurriedly now, Joseph thrust the box into the place from where he had taken it, pushed the drawer closed, then almost at a run he returned to the room and to the old man's side. Immediately the old man grabbed at his hand and quietly and huskily said, 'Don't say a word to Bright. Understand?''Yes, sir.''Not a word.''I understand, sir.'The old man let go of Joseph's hand, lay back on his pillows and closed his eyes for a moment. Then, his voice still low, he said, 'What do you think was in that case?''I have no idea, sir.'The eyes were open again staring at 'Is that the truth?''That is the truth, sir.'

652'No idea at all?''Well'-Joseph was flustered for a moment; then he said what he had at first actually thought, 'I imagined, sir, that it might be a bottle; then I realized the case wasn't quite deep enough.''A bottle?' A sound now like a laugh came from the old man's throat before he added, 'If that had been a bottle it would never have survived all this long in that drawer ... in spite of Bright. Carter.''Yes, sir?''I ... I am not sure of you . . . you worry me ... I don't know why. I ... I thought perhaps ... it ... could be because you are so different from the other types that Bright brought in to help. But . . . but I'm not sure.