He was white to the lips with the effort to control himself.

Nap, outstretched, supple as a tiger, lay and watched him unwaveringly.
"Go, Bertie!" Lucas said very quietly.
He took a spill himself from the mantelpiece, and tried to hold it to the blaze.

But he stooped with difficulty, and sharply Bertie reached forward and took it from him.
"I will," he said briefly, and lighting the spill, carried it to Nap, at ease on the sofa.
With a faint smile Nap awaited him.

He did not offer to take the burning spill, and Bertie held it in sullen silence to the end of his cigarette.
His hand was not very steady, and after a moment Nap took his wrist.
The cigarette glowed, and Nap looked up.

"It's a pity you're too big to thrash, Bertie," he said coolly, and with a sudden movement doubled the flaming paper back upon the fingers that held it.
Bertie's yell was more of rage than pain.