Then he leaned against it, facing his brother again.

He was deathly pale, with great dark stains under his eyes; his ungloved right hand was pressed to his side, and the fingers of it were all smeared with blood that was still oozing and dripping from between them.

Over his yellow doublet on the right side there was a spreading dark stain whose nature did not intrigue Sir Oliver a moment.
"My God!" he cried, and ran to his brother.

"What's happened, Lal?
Who has done this ?" "Peter Godolphin," came the answer from lips that writhed in a curious smile.
Never a word said Sir Oliver, but he set his teeth and clenched his hands until the nails cut into his palms.

Then he put an arm about this lad he loved above all save one in the whole world, and with anguish in his mind he supported him forward to the fire.