“Well, what is it?” Eustace demanded.

“Just this.”  Very steadily Scott made answer.  “I want to know how far this matter has gone between you and Miss Bathurst.  I want to know—­what you are going to do.”

“My intentions, eh?” Eustace’s sneer became very pronounced as he put the question.  He pulled forward a chair and sat down with an arrogant air as though to bring himself thus to Scott’s level.

Scott’s eyes gleamed again momentarily at the action, but he stood like a rock.  “Yes, your intentions,” he said briefly.

Sir Eustace’s black brows went up, he looked him up and down.  “Can you give me any reason at all why I should hold myself answerable to you?” he asked.

Scott’s hands clenched as he stood.  “I can,” he said.  “I regard Miss Bathurst as very peculiarly our charge—­under our protection.  We are both in a great measure responsible for her, though possibly—­” he hesitated slightly—­“my responsibility is greater than yours, in so far as I take it more seriously.  I do not think that either of us is in a position to make love to her under existing circumstances.  But that, I admit, is merely a matter of opinion.  Most emphatically neither of us has the right to trifle with her.  I want to know—­and I must know—­are you trifling with her, as you have trifled with Miss de Vigne for the past fortnight?  Or are you in earnest?  Which?”

He spoke sternly, as one delivering an ultimatum.  His eyes, steel-bright and unwavering, were fixed upon his brother’s face.

Sir Eustace made a sharp gesture, as of one who flings off some stinging insect.  “It is not particularly good form on your part to bring another lady’s name into the discussion,” he said.  “At least you have no responsibilities so far as Miss de Vigne is concerned.”

“I admit that,” Scott answered shortly.  “Moreover, she is fully capable of taking care of herself.  But Miss Bathurst is not.  She is a mere child in many ways, but she takes things hard.  If you are merely amusing yourself at her expense—­” He stopped.

“Well?” Sir Eustace threw the question with sudden anger.  His great, lounging figure stiffened.  A blue flame shot up in his eyes.

Scott stood silent for a moment or two; then with a great effort he unclenched his hands and came forward.  “I am not going to believe that of you unless you tell me it is so,” he said.

Sir Eustace reached out an unexpected hand without rising, and took him by the shoulder.  “You may be small of stature, Stumpy,” he said, “but you’re the biggest fool I know.  You’re making mountains out of molehills, and you’ll get yourself into trouble if you’re not careful.”

Scott looked at him.  “Do you imagine I’m afraid of you, I wonder?” he said, a faint tremor of irony in his quiet voice.

Sir Eustace’s hold tightened.  His mouth was hard.  “I imagine that I could make things highly unpleasant for you if you provoked me too far,” he said.  “And let me warn you, you have gone quite far enough in a matter in which you have no concern whatever.  I never have stood any interference from you and I never will.  Let that be understood—­once for all!”