Sir Beverley suffered the action with no further protest than a frown.  “You weren’t so mighty anxious when I first suggested it,” he grumbled.

Piers laughed.  “Can’t a man change his mind?  I’m keen enough now.”

“What do you want to go for?” Sir Beverley looked at him suspiciously.

But Piers’ frank return of his look told him nothing.  “I love the South as you know,” he said.

“Damn it, yes!” said Sir Beverley irritably.  He could never endure any mention of the Southern blood in Piers.

“And—­” Piers’ brown fingers grew suddenly tight upon the bony hand he had drawn over his shoulder—­“I like going away with you.”

“Oh, stow it, Piers!” growled Sir Beverley.

“The truth, sir!” protested Piers, with eyes that suddenly danced.  “It does me good to be with you.  It keeps me young.”

“Young!” ejaculated Sir Beverley.  “You—­infant!”

Piers broke into a laugh.  He looked a mere boy when he gave himself up to merriment.  “And it’ll do you good too,” he said, “to get away from that beastly doctor who is always hanging around.  I long to give him the boot whenever I see him.”

“You don’t like each other, eh?” Sir Beverley’s smile was sardonic.

“We loathe and detest each other,” said Piers.  All the boyishness went out of his face with the words; he looked suddenly grim, and in that moment the likeness between them was very marked.  “I presume this change of air scheme was his suggestion,” he said abruptly.

“And if it was?” said Sir Beverley.

Piers threw back his head and laughed again through clenched teeth.  “For which piece of consideration he has my sincere gratitude,” he said.  He pressed his grandfather’s hand again and rose.  “So it’s to be Monte Carlo, is it?  Well, the sooner the better for me.  I’ll tell Victor to look up the trains.  We can’t get away to-morrow or the next day.  But we ought to be able to manage the day after.”

He strolled across to the fire, and stood there with his back to the room, whistling below his breath.

Sir Beverley regarded him frowningly.  There was no denying the fact, he did not understand Piers.  He had expected a strenuous opposition to his scheme.  He had been prepared to do battle with the boy.  But Piers had refused the conflict.  What was the fellow’s game, he asked himself?  Why this prompt compliance with his wishes?  He was not to be deceived into the belief that he wanted to go.  The attraction was too great for that.  Unless indeed—­he looked across at the bent black head in sudden doubt—­was it possible that the boy had met with a check in the least likely direction of all?  Could it be that the woman’s plans did not include him after all?

No!  No!  That was out of the question.  He knew women.  A hard laugh rose to his lips.  If she had put a check upon Piers’ advances it was not with the ultimate purpose of stopping him.  She knew what she was about too well for that, confound her!