Sir Stephen closed the door after him, then went back to the
smoking-room and stood looking down at Falconer, who leant back in his
chair with his cigar in his mouth and eyed Sir Stephen under
half-closed lids with an expression which had something of mastery and
power in it.

Sir Stephen bit at the end of his moustache, his thick black brows
lowered, as if he scarcely knew how to begin the "chat," and Falconer
waited without any offer of assistance. At last Sir Stephen said: "You asked me outside just now, Falconer, if it was to be 'friend or
foe?' I'm thinking the question ought to have come from me."

"Yes," assented Falconer, his eyes growing still narrower. "Yes, I
suppose it ought."

"Would your answer have been the same as mine--'friends'?" asked Sir
Stephen in a low voice.

Falconer was silent for a moment, then he said: "It oughtn't to have been. If ever a man had cause to regard another as
an enemy, I've had cause to regard you as one, Orme!"

Sir Stephen flushed, then went pale again.

"There is no use in raking up the past," he muttered.

"Oh, I've no need to rake it up; it's here right enough, without
raking," retorted Falconer, and he touched his breast with his thick
forefinger. "I'm not likely to forget the trick you played me; not
likely to forget the man who turned on me and robbed me--"