"Can you bear to speak to me?” muttered Richard, with face averted.
“Gad, Dick, don’t be ridiculous!” He grasped the unwilling hand. “You would have done the same for me!”
Andrew pressed forward.
“Well, I can see no use in raking up old scores! After all, what does it matter? Its buried and finished. Here’s my hand on it, Dick! Lord! I couldn’t turn my back on the man I’ve lived on for years!” He laughed irrepressibly, and wrung Richard’s hand.
My lord’s eyes were on O’Hara, pleading. Reluctantly the Irishman came forward.
“’Tis only fair to tell you, Richard, that I can’t see eye to eye with Andrew, here. However, I’m not denying that I think a good deal better of ye now than I did—seven years ago.”
Richard looked up eagerly.
“You never believed him guilty?”
O’Hara laughed.
"Hardly!”
“You knew ’twas I?”
“I had me suspicions, of course.”
“I wish—oh, how I wish you had voiced them!”
O’Hara raised his eyebrows, and there fell a little silence. His Grace of Andover broke it, coming forward in his inimitable way. He looked round the room at each member of the company.
“One, two, three—four, five———” he counted. “Andrew, tell them to lay covers for five in the dining-room.”
“Aren’t you staying?” asked his brother, surprised.
“I have supped,” replied Tracy coolly.
For a moment O’Hara’s mouth twitched, and then he burst out laughing. Everyone looked at him inquiringly.
