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Rh "Help yourself," said Peterson. "My daughter is never down as early as this."

"Rarely conscious before eleven—what!" murmured Hugh. "Deuced wise of her. May I press you to a kidney?" He returned politely towards his host, and paused in dismay. "Good heavens! Mr. Peterson, is your neck hurting you?"

"It is," answered Peterson grimly.

"A nuisance, having a stiff neck. Makes everyone laugh, and one gets no sympathy. Bad thing—laughter…At times, anyway." He sat down and commenced to eat his breakfast.

"Curiosity is a great deal worse, Captain Drummond. It was touch and go whether I killed you last night."

The two men were staring at one another steadily.

"I think I might say the same," returned Drummond.

"Yes and no," said Peterson. "From the moment you left the bottom of the stairs, I had your life in the palm of my hand. Had I chosen to take it, my young friend, I should not have had this stiff neck."

Hugh returned to his breakfast unconcernedly.

"Granted, laddie, granted. But had I not been of such a kindly and forbearing nature, you wouldn't have had it, either." He looked at Peterson critically. "I'm inclined to think it's a great pity I didn't break your neck, while I was about it." Hugh sighed, and drank some coffee. "I see that I shall have to do it some day, and probably Lakington's as well…By the way, how is our Henry? I trust his jaw is not unduly inconveniencing him."