Dr. Cairn laid his hand upon his son's shoulder, fixing his eyes upon him steadily.
"Nothing in this house can injure Myra," he replied quietly; "for Good is higher than Evil. For the present we can only go."
Antony Ferrara stood aside, as the two walked out of the library.
Dr. Bruce Cairn swung around in his chair, lifting his heavy eyebrows interrogatively, as his son, Robert, entered the consulting-room. Half-Moon Street was bathed in almost tropical sunlight, but already the celebrated physician had sent those out from his house to whom the sky was overcast, whom the sun would gladden no more, and a group of anxious-eyed sufferers yet awaited his scrutiny in an adjoining room.
"Hullo, Rob! Do you wish to see me professionally?"
Robert Cairn seated himself upon a corner of the big table, shaking his head slowly.
"No, thanks sir; I'm fit enough; but I thought you might like to know about the will--"
"I do know. Since I was largely interested, Jermyn attended on my behalf; an urgent case detained me. He rang up earlier this morning."
"Oh, I see. Then perhaps I'm wasting your time; but it was a surprise--quite a pleasant one--to find that Sir Michael had provided for Myra--Miss Duquesne."
"What led you to suppose that he had _not_ provided for his niece? She is an orphan, and he was her guardian."
"Of course, he should have done so; but I was not alone in my belief that during the--peculiar state of mind--which preceded his death, he had altered his will--"
"Yes. I know _you_ were afraid of it, sir! But as it turns out they inherit equal shares, and the house goes to Myra. Mr. Antony Ferrara"--he accentuated the name--"quite failed to conceal his chagrin."
"Rather. He was there in person, wearing one of his beastly fur coats--a fur coat, with the thermometer at Africa!--lined with civet-cat, of all abominations!"
Dr. Cairn turned to his table, tapping at the blotting-pad with the tube of a stethoscope.
"I regret your attitude towards young Ferrara, Rob."
"Regret it! I don't understand. Why, you, yourself brought about an open rupture on the night of Sir Michael's death."
"Nevertheless, I am sorry. You know, since you were present, that Sir Michael has left his niece--to my care--"