Tryon looked once, then kept his eyes to his boots. He would have given much to have fled, and, in truth, he had no stomach for his job. It seemed to him uncommonly like hitting at some wounded creature already smitten to death. But it was not for himself he was fighting. It was for Gay's sweet, upright soul, and the happiness of a man too good to be thrown to the vultures of a woman's greed and cruelty. That thought hardened his heart for the task he had in hand.
Marice came to the point at once. It seemed that, with her beauty, she had lost or discarded the habit of subtle attack.
"What does Sir Charles think of his chances?"
It was Tryon who had to have recourse to subtlety. Juggling with his brother's professional name was a risky business, and he did not mean to get on to dangerous ground.
"He can't tell yet--he was afraid to be certain, tonight--is going to have another go at them tomorrow. But----"
"But?" She leaned forward eagerly. "There is not much hope?"
There was no mistaking her face and voice. It was as he had guessed; _she did not want Druro to recover_. Tryon had no further qualms.
"_I_ am not going to give up hope, anyway," he said, with that air of dogged intent which is often founded on hopelessness. She gave a little sigh and sat back among her cushions, like a woman who has taken a refreshing drink.
"Dear Druro, it is very sad for him!" said she complacently, and presently added, "but I shall always see that he is taken care of."
Something in Tryon shuddered, but outwardly he gave no sign, only looked at her commiseratingly.
"It is that we are thinking of--Guthrie and I. Are you strong enough physically and well-enough off financially to undertake such a burden?" She regarded him piercingly, a startled look in her eyes. "Doubtless you are a rich women--and, of course, no one could doubt your generosity. Still, a blind man without means of his own----"
"_What?_" She fired the word at him like a pistol-shot.
"He does not know," said Tryon softly. "We are keeping it dark for some days yet. The two shocks together might----" He paused.
"What--_what_?" she panted at him, like a runner at the end of his last lap.
"The mine is no good. They are dropping back into it every penny they ever made, and the reef has pinched out. Guthrie told me this tonight on his oath." The woman gave a long, sighing breath and lay back painfully in her chair. But Tryon had a cruel streak in him. He would not let her rest. "He is a ruined man, and may be a blind man, but, thank God, he has you to lean on!"