Littimer sat down and laughed with pure enjoyment.
"And where is the other partridge?" he asked, presently.
Christabel seemed to hesitate for a moment, her sense of humour of the situation had departed. Her hand shook as she turned the key in the door.
"I am afraid you are going to have an unpleasant surprise," Henson said.
Littimer glanced keenly at the speaker. All the laughter died out of his eyes; his face grew set and stern as Frank Littimer emerged into the light.
"And what are you doing here?" he asked, hoarsely. "What do you expect to gain by taking part in a fool's trick like this? Did I not tell you never to show your face here again?"
The young man said nothing. He stood there looking down, dogged, quiet, like one tongue-tied. Littimer thundered out his question again. He crossed over, laying his hands on his son's shoulders and shaking him as a terrier might shake a rat.
"Did you come for anything?" he demanded. "Did you expect any mercy from--"
Frank Littimer shook off his grasp gently. He looked up for the first time.
"I expected nothing," he said. "I--I did not come of my own free will. I am silent now for the sake of myself and others. But the time may come--God knows it has been long delayed. For the present, I am bound in honour to hold my tongue."
He flashed one little glance at Henson, a long, angry glance. Littimer looked from one to the other in hesitation for a moment. The hard lines between his brows softened.
"Perhaps I am wrong," he muttered. "Perhaps there has been a mistake somewhere. And if ever I find out I have--pshaw, I am talking like a sentimental schoolgirl. Have I not had evidence strong as proof of Holy Writ that ... Get out of my sight, your presence angers me. Go, and never let me see you again. Reginald, you were a fool to bring that boy here to-night. See him off the premises and fasten the door again."
"Surely," Christabel interfered, "surely at this time of the night--"
"You should be in bed," Littimer said, tartly. "My dear young lady, if you and I are to remain friends I must ask you to mind your own business. It is a dreadfully difficult thing for a woman to do, but you must try. You understand?"
Christabel was evidently putting a strong constraint on her tongue, for she merely bowed and said nothing. She had her own good reasons for the diplomacy of silence. Henson and Frank Littimer were disappearing in the direction of the staircase.