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With this thought he was also uncomfortable. Something said to him: 'Get out of this. Leave the house, the town. Don't come back. You're not such a bad fellow. You were safe five minutes ago. Be safe again.'

But of course he liked risks. . . . He liked risks. The two brothers stood facing one another. They had never been friends, and Stephen, being ten years older, had always had his way. But now. The ten years were gone, didn't count. Stephen was thin and worn. He didn't look well. He mightn't live so very long.

They moved upstairs.

The room that Stephen showed him had an old canopy bed with faded crimson hangings. On the wall was a text, with painted flowers: 'Thou God seest me.' The wash-stand, two chairs, a wardrobe were shabby and it was very cold.

'You won't forget about the fire,' Michael said.

'No, no. It may not burn very well at first. There hasn't been a fire for some time in here. I'll tell Elizabeth.'

Michael put the bag on the floor.

'Well. . . . That's good. I'm glad we've come to an arrangement. Look here, I'll pay you in advance for the first week.' He took out the money. 'Here's a pound. I'll give you the five shillings to-morrow when I get change.'