CHAPTER IX.
THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE "Hullo, Lucas! Can I come in ?" Nap Errol stood outside his brother's door, an impatient frown on his face, his hand already fidgeting at the handle.
"Come in, old chap," drawled back a kindly voice.
He entered with an abruptness that seemed to denote agitation.
The room was large and brilliantly lighted.

In an easy chair by the fire the eldest Errol was reclining, while his valet, a huge man with the features of an American Indian half-breed and fiery red hair, put the finishing touches to his evening dress.
Nap approached the fire with his usual noiseless tread despite the fact that he was still in riding boots.
"Be quick, Hudson!" he said.

"We don't want you." Hudson rolled a nervous eye at him and became clumsily hasty.
"Take your time," his master said quietly.

"Nap, my friend, hadn't you better dress ?" Nap stopped before the fire and pushed it with his foot.

"I am not going to dine," he said.
Lucas Errol said no more.