Sabatini Rafael - The Lion's Skin

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Title: The Lion's Skin

Author: Rafael Sabatini

Release Date: December 23, 2008 [EBoo

#2702]

Last Updated: January 9, 2013

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOO

THE LION'S SKIN ***



Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenber

Volunteer, and David Widger

THE LION'S

SKIN



By Rafael Sabatini

CONTENTS

THE LION'S SKIN

CHAPTER I. THE FANATIC

CHAPTER II. AT THE "ADAM



AND EVE"

CHAPTER III. THE WITNESS

CHAPTER IV. Mr. GREEN

CHAPTER V. MOONSHINE

CHAPTER VI. HORTENSIA'S

RETURN

CHAPTER VII. FATHER AND

SON

CHAPTER VIII. TEMPTATION

CHAPTER IX. THE

CHAMPION



CHAPTER X. SPURS TO THE

RELUCTANT

CHAPTER XI. THE ASSAULT- AT-ARMS

CHAPTER XII. SUNSHINE

AND SHADOW

CHAPTER XIII. THE

FORLORN HOPE

CHAPTER XIV. LADY

OSTERMORE

CHAPTER XV. LOVE AND

RAGE

CHAPTER XVI. MR. GREEN



EXECUTES HIS WARRANT

CHAPTER XVII. AMID THE

GRAVES

CHAPTER XVIII. THE GHOST

OF THE PAST

CHAPTER XIX. THE END OF

LORD OSTERMORE

CHAPTER XX. Mr. CARYLL'S

IDENTITY

CHAPTER XXI. THE LION'S

SKIN

CHAPTER XXII. THE

HUNTERS



CHAPTER XXIII. THE LION

THE LION'SSKIN



CHAPTER I. THE

FANATIC

Mr. Caryll, lately from Rome, stood b

he window, looking out over thrainswept, steaming quays to Notre Dam

on the island yonder. Overhead rolled and

crackled the artillery of an Apri

hunderstorm, and Mr. Caryll, looking ou

upon Paris in her shroud of rain, under he

pall of thundercloud, felt himself a

harmony with Nature. Over his heart, toohe gloom of storm was lowering, just a

n his heart it was still little more tha

April time.

Behind him, in that chamber furnishe



n dark oak and leather of a reign or tw

ago, sat Sir Richard Everard at a vas

writing-table all a-litter with books an

papers; and Sir Richard watched hiadoptive son with fierce, melanchol

eyes, watched him until he grew impatien

of this pause.

"Well?" demanded the old barone

harshly. "Will you undertake it, Justin

now that the chance has come?" And h

added: "You'll never hesitate if you arehe man I have sought to make you."

Mr. Caryll turned slowly. "It is because

am the man that you—that God and yo

—have made me that I do hesitate."His voice was quiet and pleasantl

modulated, and he spoke English with th

faintest slur—perceptible, perhaps, onl



o the keenest ear—of a French accent. To

ears less keen it would merely seem tha

he articulated with a precision so singula

as to verge on pedantry.The light falling full upon his profil

revealed the rather singular countenanc

hat was his own. It was not in an

remarkable beauty that its distinction lay

for by the canons of beauty that prevail i

was not beautiful. The features wer

rregular and inclined to harshness, thnose was too abruptly arched, the chin to

ong and square, the complexion to

pallid. Yet a certain dignity haunted tha

youthful face, of such a quality as to stampt upon the memory of the merest passer

by. The mouth was difficult to read and

full of contradictions; the lips were ful

and red, and you would declare them th



ips of a sensualist but for the line of stern

almost grim, determination in which the

met; and yet, somewhere behind tha

grimness, there appeared to lurk haunting whimsicality; a smile seeme

ever to impend, but whether sweet o

bitter none could have told until it broke

The eyes were as remarkable; wide-seand slow-moving, as becomes the eyes o

an observant man, they were of an almos

greenish color, and so level in thei

ordinary glance as to seem imbued with a

uncanny penetration. His hair—he dare

o wear his own, and clubbed it in a broa

ribbon of watered silk—was almost of thhue of bronze, with here and there a glin

of gold, and as luxuriant as any wig.

For the rest, he was scarcely above th

middle height, of an almost frail but ver



graceful slenderness, and very gracefu

oo, in all his movements. In dress he wa

supremely elegant, with the elegance o

France, that in England would baccounted foppishness. He wore a suit o

dark blue cloth, with white satin lining

hat were revealed when he moved; it wa

heavily laced with gold, and a ramifor pattern broidered in gold thread ran up th

sides of his silk stockings of a paler blue

Jewels gleamed in the Brussels at hi

hroat, and there were diamond buckles o

his lacquered, red-heeled shoes.

Sir Richard considered him wit

anxiety and some chagrin. "Justin!" hcried, a world of reproach in his voice

"What can you need to ponder?"

"Whatever it may be," said Mr. Caryll



"it will be better that I ponder it now tha

after I have pledged myself."

"But what is it? What?" demanded th

baronet.

"I am marvelling, for one thing, that yo

should have waited thirty years."

Sir Richard's fingers stirred the paperbefore him in an idle, absent manner. Into

his brooding eyes there leapt the glitter t

be seen in the eyes of the fevered of bod

or of mind."Vengeance," said he slowly, "is a dish

best relished when 'tis eaten cold." H

paused an instant; then continued: "I migh

have crossed to England at the time, an

slain him. Should that have satisfied me

What is death but peace and rest?"

"There is a hell, we are told," Mr



Caryll reminded him.

"Ay," was the answer, "we are told. Bu

dursn't risk its being false wher

Ostermore is concerned. So I preferred twait until I could brew him such a cup o

bitterness as no man ever drank ere h

was glad to die." In a quieter

retrospective voice he continued: "Ha

we prevailed in the '15, I might hav

found a way to punish him that had bee

worthy of the crime that calls for it. Wedid not prevail. Moreover, I was taken

and transported.

"What think you, Justin, gave m

courage to endure the rigors of thplantations, cunning and energy to escap

after five such years of it as had assuredl

killed a stronger man less strong o



purpose? What but the task that wa

awaiting me? It imported that I should liv

and be free to call a reckoning in full wit

my Lord Ostermore before I go to my owaccount.

"Opportunity has gone lame upon thi

ourney. But it has arrived at last. Unles

—" He paused, his voice sank from th

high note of exaltation to which it ha

soared; it became charged with dread, a

did the fierce eyes with which he rakehis companion's face. "Unless you prov

false to the duty that awaits you. And tha

'll not believe! You are your mother's

son, Justin.""And my father's, too," answered Justi

n a thick voice; "and the Earl o

Ostermore is that same father."



"The more sweetly shall your mother b

avenged," cried the other, and again hi

eyes blazed with that unhealthy, fanatica

ight. "What fitter than the hand of thapoor lady's son to pull your father down i

ruins?" He laughed short and fiercely. "I

seldom chances in this world that justic

s done so nicely."

"You hate him very deeply," said Mr

Caryll pensively, and the look in his eye

betrayed the trend of his thoughts; thewere of pity—but of pity at the futility o

such strong emotions.

"As deeply as I loved your mother

Justin." The sharp, rugged features of thaseared old face seemed of a sudde

ransfigured and softened. The wild eye

ost some of their glitter in a look o



wistfulness, as he pondered a moment th

one sweet memory in a wasted life, a lif

wrecked over thirty years ago—wrecke

wantonly by that same Ostermore of whohey spoke, who had been his friend.

A groan broke from his lips. He too

his head in his hands, and, elbows on th

able, he sat very still a moment

reviewing as in a flash the events of thirt

and more years ago, when he and Viscoun

Rotherby—as Ostermore was then—habeen young men at the St. Germain's Cour

of James II.

It was on an excursion into Normand

hat they had met Mademoiselle dMaligny, the daughter of an impoverished

gentleman of the chetive noblesse of tha

province. Both had loved her. She had



preferred—as women will—the outwar

handsomeness of Viscount Rotherby to th

sounder heart and brain that were Dic

Everard's. As bold and dominant as anruffler of them all where men and peril

were concerned, young Everard wa

imid, bashful and without assertivenes

with women. He had withdrawn from thcontest ere it was well lost, leaving a

easy victory to his friend.

And how had that friend used it? Mosfoully, as you shall learn.

Leaving Rotherby in Normandy

Everard had returned to Paris. The affair

of his king gave him cause to cross at onco Ireland. For three years he abode there

working secretly in his master's interes

o little purpose be it confessed. At th



end of that time he returned to Paris

Rotherby was gone. It appeared that hi

father, Lord Ostermore, had prevailed

upon Bentinck to use his influence witWilliam on the errant youth's behalf

Rotherby had been pardoned his loyalty t

he fallen dynasty. A deserter in every

sense, he had abandoned the fortunes oKing James—which in Everard's eye

was bad enough—and he had abandone

he sweet lady he had fetched out o

ormandy six months before his going, o

whom it seemed that in his lordly way h

was grown tired.

From the beginning it would appeahey were ill-matched. It was her beaut

had made appeal to him, even as hi

beauty had enamoured her. Elementals had

brought about their union; and when thes



elementals shrank with habit, a

elementals will, they found themselve

without a tie of sympathy or commo

nterest to link them each to the other. Shwas by nature blythe; a thing of sunshine

flowers and music, who craved a ver

poet for her lover; and by "a poet" I mea

not your mere rhymer. He was downrighstolid and stupid under his fine exterior

he worst type of Briton, without th

saving grace of a Briton's honor. And so

she had wearied him, who saw in her n

more than a sweet loveliness that ha

cloyed him presently. And when the

chance was offered him by Bentinck anhis father, he took it and went his ways

and this sweet flower that he had plucke

from its Normandy garden to adorn hi

for a brief summer's day was left to wilt



discarded.

The tale that greeted Everard on hi

return from Ireland was that, broken

hearted, she had died—crushed neath heoad of shame. For it was said that ther

had been no marriage.

The rumor of her death had gonabroad, and it had been carried to Englan

and my Lord Rotherby by a cousin of her

—the last living Maligny—who crosse

he channel to demand of that stoligentleman satisfaction for the dishonor pu

upon his house. All the satisfaction th

poor fellow got was a foot or so of stee

hrough the lungs, of which he died; anhere, may it have seemed to Rotherby, th

matter ended.

But Everard remained—Everard, wh



had loved her with a great and almos

sacred love; Everard, who swore blac

ruin for my Lord Rotherby—the rumor o

which may also have been carried to hiordship and stimulated his activities i

having Everard hunted down after th

Braemar fiasco of 1715.

But before that came to pass Everar

had discovered that the rumor of her deat

was false—put about, no doubt, out of fea

of that same cousin who had made himselchampion and avenger of her honor

Everard sought her out, and found he

perishing of want in an attic in the Cou

des Miracles some four months later—eight months after Rotherby's desertion.

In that sordid, wind-swept chamber o

Paris' most abandoned haunt, a son ha



been born to Antoinette de Maligny two

days before Everard had come upon her

Both were dying; both had assuredly die

within the week but that he came so timelo her aid. And that aid he rendered lik

he noble-hearted gentleman he was. H

had contrived to save his fortune from th

wreck of James' kingship, and this wasafely invested in France, in Holland an

elsewhere abroad. With a portion of it h

repurchased the chateau and estates o

Maligny, which on the death o

Antoinette's father had been seized upo

by creditors.

Thither he sent her and her child—Rotherby's child—making that nobl

domain a christening-gift to the boy, fo

whom he had stood sponsor at the fon

And he did his work of love in th



background. He was the god in th

machine; no more. No single opportunit

of thanking him did he afford her. H

effaced himself that she might not see thsorrow she occasioned him, lest it shoul

ncrease her own.

For two years she dwelt at Maligny i

such peace as the broken-hearted ma

know, the little of life that was left he

rradiated by Everard's noble friendship

He wrote to her from time to time, nowfrom Italy, now from Holland. But h

never came to visit her. A delicacy, which

may or may not have been false, restraine

him. And she, respecting whanstinctively she knew to be his feelings

never bade him come to her. In thei

etters they never spoke of Rotherby; no

once did his name pass between them; i



was as if he had never lived or neve

crossed their lives. Meanwhile sh

weakened and faded day by day, despit

all the care with which she wasurrounded. That winter of cold and wan

n the Cour des Miracles had sown it

seeds, and Death was sharpening hi

scythe against the harvest.

When the end was come she sen

urgently for Everard. He came at once i

answer to her summons; but he came toate. She died the evening before h

arrived. But she had left a letter, writte

days before, against the chance of his no

reaching her before the end. That letter, iher fine French hand, was before hi

now.

"I will not try to thank you, deares



friend," she wrote. "For the thing that yo

have done, what payment is there in poo

hanks? Oh, Everard, Everard! Had it bu

pleased God to have helped me to a wisechoice when it was mine to choose!" sh

cried to him from that letter, and poo

Everard deemed that the thin ray of joy he

words sent through his anguished soul wapayment more than enough for the littl

hat he had done. "God's will be done!

she continued. "It is His will. He know

why it is best so, though we discern it not

But there is the boy; there is Justin.

bequeath him to you who already hav

done so much for him. Love him a littlfor my sake; cherish and rear him as you

own, and make of him such a gentleman a

are you. His father does not so much a

know of his existence. That, too, is bes



so, for I would not have him claim m

boy. Never let him learn that Justin exists

unless it be to punish him by th

knowledge for his cruel desertion of me."Choking, the writing blurred by tear

hat he accounted no disgrace to his youn

manhood, Everard had sworn in that hou

hat Justin should be as a son to him. H

would do her will, and he set upon it

more definite meaning than she intended

Rotherby should remain in ignorance ohis son's existence until such season a

should make the knowledge a very anguis

o him. He would rear Justin in bitte

hatred of the foul villain who had been hifather; and with the boy's help, when th

ime should be ripe, he would lay my Lor

Rotherby in ruins. Thus should my lord'

sin come to find him out.



This Everard had sworn, and this h

had done. He had told Justin the stor

almost as soon as Justin was of an age t

understand it. He had repeated it at verfrequent intervals, and as the lad grew

Everard watched in him—fostering it b

every means in his power—the growth o

his execration for the author of his daysand of his reverence for the sweet

departed saint that had been his mother.

For the rest, he had lavished Justinobly for his mother's sake. Th

repurchased estates of Maligny, with thei

handsome rent roll, remained Justin's own

administered by Sir Richard during thad's minority and vastly enriched by th

care of that administration. He had sent th

ad to Oxford, and afterwards—the mor

horoughly to complete his education—o



a two years' tour of Europe; and on hi

return, a grown and cultured man, he ha

attached him to the court in Rome of th

Pretender, whose agent he was himself iParis.

He had done his duty by the boy as h

understood his duty, always with that gri

purpose of revenge for his horizon. And

he result had been a stranger compoun

han even Everard knew, for all that h

knew the lad exceedingly well. For he hascarcely reckoned sufficiently upo

Justin's mixed nationality and th

circumstance that in soul and mind he wa

entirely his mother's child, with nothing—or an imperceptible little—of his father

As his mother's nature had been, so wa

Justin's—joyous. But Everard's training o

him had suppressed all inborn vivacity



The mirth and diablerie that were hi

birthright had been overlaid with Britis

phlegm, until in their stead, and throug

he blend, a certain sardonic humor hadeveloped, an ironical attitude toward al

hings whether sacred or profane. This ha

been helped on by culture, and—in a stil

greater measure—by the odd training iworldliness which he had from Everard

His illusions were shattered ere he had cu

his wisdom teeth, thanks to the tutelage o

Sir Richard, who in giving him the ugl

story of his own existence, taught him th

misanthropical lesson that all men ar

knaves, all women fools. He developedas a consequence, that sardonic outloo

upon the world. He sought to take vos no

vobis for his motto, affected to a spectato

n the theatre of Life, with the obviou



result that he became the greatest actor o

hem all.

So we find him even now, his mai

emotion pity for Sir Richard, who sasilent for some moments, reviewing tha

hirty-year dead past, until the tear

scalded his old eyes. The baronet made

queer noise in his throat, somethin

between a snarl and a sob, and he flun

himself suddenly back in his chair.

Justin sat down, a becoming gravity ihis countenance. "Tell me all," he begged

his adoptive father. "Tell me how matters

stand precisely—how you propose to act.

"With all my heart," the baroneassented. "Lord Ostermore, having turne

his coat once for profit, is ready now t

urn it again for the same end. From th



nformation that reaches me from England

t would appear that in the rage o

speculation that has been toward i

London, his lordship has suffered heavilyHow heavily I am not prepared to say. Bu

heavily enough, I dare swear, to hav

caused this offer to return to his king; fo

he looks, no doubt, to sell his services at price that will help him mend th

wreckage of his fortunes. A week ago a

gentleman who goes between his majesty'

court at Rome and his friends here in Pari

brought me word from his majesty tha

Ostermore had signified to him hi

willingness to rejoin the Stuart cause."Together with that information, thi

messenger brought me letters from hi

majesty to several of his friends, which

was to send to England by a safe hand a



he first opportunity. Now, amongst these

etters—delivered to me unsealed—is on

o my Lord Ostermore, making him certai

advantageous proposals which he is suro accept if his circumstances be a

crippled as I am given to understand

Atterbury and his friends, it seems, hav

already tampered with my lord's loyalty tDutch George to some purpose, and ther

s little doubt but that this letter"—and h

apped a document before him—"will d

what else is to be done.

"But, since these letters were left wit

me, come you with his majesty's fres

njunctions that I am to suppress them ancross to England at once myself, to prevai

upon Atterbury and his associates to

abandon the undertaking."



Mr. Caryll nodded. "Because, as I hav

old you," said he, "King James in Rom

has received positive information that i

London the plot is already suspected, littlhough Atterbury may dream it. But wha

has this to do with my Lord Ostermore?"

"This," said Everard slowly, leanin

across toward Justin, and laying a han

upon his sleeve. "I am to counsel th

Bishop to stay his hand against a mor

favorable opportunity. There is no reasowhy you should not do the very opposit

with Ostermore."

Mr. Caryll knit his brows, his eye

ntent upon the other's face; but he said nword.

"It is," urged Everard, "an opportunit

such as there may never be another. We



destroy Ostermore. By a turn of the han

we bring him to the gallows." He chuckle

over the word with a joy almos

diabolical."But how—how do we destroy him?

quoth Justin, who suspected yet dared no

encourage his suspicions.

"How? Do you ask how? Is't not plain?

snapped Sir Richard, and what he avoide

putting into words, his eloquent glanc

made clear to his companion.Mr. Caryll rose a thought quickly, a

faint flush stirring in his cheeks, and h

hrew off Everard's grasp with a gestur

hat was almost of repugnance. "You meanhat I am to enmesh him...."

Sir Richard smiled grimly. "As hi

majesty's accredited agent," he explained



"I will equip you with papers. Word shal

go ahead of you to Ostermore by a saf

hand to bid him look for the coming of

messenger bearing his own family nameo more than that; nothing that can betra

us; yet enough to whet his lordship'

appetite. You shall be the ambassador to

bear him the tempting offers from the kingYou will obtain his answers—accepting

Those you will deliver to me, and I shal

do the trifle that may still be needed to se

he rope about his neck."

A little while there was silence

Outside, the rain, driven by gusts, smot

he window as with a scourge. Thhunder was grumbling in the distanc

now. Mr. Caryll resumed his chair. He sa

very thoughtful, but with no emotio

showing in his face. British stolidity wa



n the ascendant with him then. He felt tha

he had the need of it.

"It is... ugly," he said at last slowly.

"It is God's own will," was the ho

answer, and Sir Richard smote the table.

"Has God taken you into Hi

confidence?" wondered Mr. Caryll."I know that God is justice."

"Yet is it not written that 'vengeance i

His own'?"

"Aye, but He needs human instrument

o execute it. Such instruments are we

Can you—Oh, can you hesitate?"

Mr. Caryll clenched his hands hard"Do it," he answered through set teeth

"Do it! I shall approve it when 'tis done

But find other hands for the work, Si



Richard. He is my father."

Sir Richard remained cool. "That is th

argument I employ for insisting upon th

ask being yours," he replied. Then, in blaze of passion, he—who had schoole

his adoptive son so ably in self-control—

marshalled once more his arguments. "It i

your duty to your mother to forget that h

s your father. Think of him only as th

man who wronged your mother; the man t

whom her ruined life, her early death ardue—her murderer and worse. Conside

hat. Your father, you say!" He mocked

almost. "Your father! In what is he you

father? You have never seen him; he doenot know that you exist, that you eve

existed. Is that to be a father? Father, you

say! A word, a name—no more than that;

name that gives rise to a sentiment, and



sentiment is to stand between you and you

clear duty; a sentiment is to set

protecting shield over the man who kille

your mother!"I think I shall despise you, Justin, i

you fail me in this. I have lived for it," h

ran on tempestuously. "I have reared yo

for it, and you shall not fail me!"

Then his voice dropped again, and i

quieter tones

"You hate the very name of John CaryllEarl of Ostermore," said he, "as mus

every decent man who knows the truth o

what the life of that satyr holds. If I hav

suffered you to bear his name, it is to thend that it should remind you daily tha

you have no right to it, that you have n

right to any name."



When he said that he thrust his finge

consciously into a raw wound. He saw

Justin wince, and with pitiless cunning h

continued to prod that tender place until hhad aggravated the smart of it into a ver

agony.

"That is what you owe your father; tha

s the full extent of what lies between yo

—that you are of those at whom the worl

s given to sneer and point scorn's read

finger.""None has ever dared," said Mr. Caryl

"Because none has ever known. We

have kept the secret well. You display no

coat of arms that no bar sinister may bdisplayed. But the time may come whe

he secret must out. You might, fo

nstance, think of marrying a lady o



quality, a lady of your own supposed

station. What shall you tell her o

yourself? That you have no name to offe

her; that the name you bear is yours bassumption only? Ah! That brings hom

your own wrongs to you, Justin! Conside

hem; have them ever present in you

mind, together with your mother's blighteife, that you may not shrink when the hou

strikes to punish the evildoer."

He flung himself back in his chaiagain, and watched the younger man wit

brooding eye. Mr. Caryll was plainl

moved. He had paled a little, and he sa

now with brows contracted and set teeth.Sir Richard pushed back his chair an

rose, recapitulating. "He is your mother'

destroyer," he said, with a sad sternness



"Is the ruin of that fair life to g

unpunished? Is it, Justin?"

Mr. Caryll's Gallic spirit burst abruptl

hrough its British glaze. He crushed fisnto palm, and swore: "No, by God! I

shall not, Sir Richard!"

Sir Richard held out his hands, anhere was a fierce joy in his gloomy eye

at last. "You'll cross to England with me

Justin?"

But Mr. Caryll's soul fell once mornto travail. "Wait!" he cried. "Ah, wait!

His level glance met Sir Richard's i

earnestness and entreaty. "Answer me th

ruth upon your soul and conscience: Dyou in your heart believe that it is what m

mother would have had me do?"

There was an instant's pause. The



Everard, the fanatic of vengeance, the ma

whose mind upon that one subject wa

become unsound with excess of brooding

answered with conviction: "As I have soul to be saved, Justin, I do believe it

More—I know it. Here!" Trembling hand

ook up the old letter from the table an

proffered it to Justin. "Here is her owmessage to you. Read it again."

And what time the young man's eye

rested upon that fine, pointed writing, SiRichard recited aloud the words he knew

by heart, the words that had been ringin

n his ears since that day when he had see

her lowered to rest: "'Never let him learhat Justin exists unless it be to punish hi

by the knowledge for his cruel desertio

of me.' It is your mother's voice speakin

o you from the grave," the fanati



pursued, and so infected Justin at last wit

something of his fanaticism.

The green eyes flashed uncannily, th

white young face grew cruelly sardonic"You believe it?" he asked, and the

eagerness that now invested his voic

showed how it really was with him.

"As I have a soul to be saved," Si

Richard repeated.

"Then gladly will I set my hand to it.

Fire stirred through Justin now, a fire orighteous passion. "An idea—no mor

han an idea—daunted me. You have

shown me that. I cross to England wit

you, Sir Richard, and let my LorOstermore look to himself, for my name—

who have no right to any name—m

name is judgment!"



The exaltation fell from him a

suddenly as it had mounted. He droppe

nto a chair, thoughtful again and slightl

ashamed of his sudden outburst.Sir Richard Everard watched with a

eye of gloomy joy the man whom he ha

been at such pains to school in self

control.

Overhead there was a sudden crackle o

hunder, sharp and staccato as a peal o

demoniac laughter.



CHAPTER II. AT THE

"ADAM AND EVE"

Mr. Caryll, alighted from his travelin

chaise in the yard of the "Adam and Eve,at Maidstone, on a sunny afternoon i

May. Landed at Dover the night before, h

had parted company with Sir Richar

Everard that morning. His adoptive fathe

had turned aside toward Rochester, to

discharge his king's business with plottin

Bishop Atterbury, what time Justin was topush on toward town as King James

ambassador to the Earl of Ostermore

who, advised of his coming, wa

expecting him.



Here at Maidstone it was Mr. Caryll'

ntent to dine, resuming his journey in th

cool of the evening, when he hoped to ge

at least as far as Farnborough ere he sleptLandlady, chamberlain, ostler and

posse of underlings hastened to giv

welcome to so fine a gentleman, and

private room above-stairs was placed a

his disposal. Before ascending, however

Mr. Caryll sauntered into the bar for

whetting glass to give him an appetite, anfurther for the purpose of bespeaking i

detail his dinner with the hostess. It wa

one of his traits that he gave the greates

attention to detail, and held that the mawho left the ordering of his edibles to hi

servants was no better than an animal wh

saw no more than nourishment in food

or was the matter one to be settle



summarily; it asked thought and time. S

he sipped his Hock, listening to th

andlady's proposals, and amending the

where necessary with suggestions of hiown, and what time he was so engaged

here ambled into the inn yard a sturdy co

bearing a sturdy little man in snuff-colore

clothes that had seen some wear.

The newcomer threw his reins to th

stable-boy—a person of all th

mportance necessary to receive sndifferent a guest. He got down nimbl

from his horse, produced an enormou

handkerchief of many colors, and remove

his three-cornered hat that he might thbetter mop his brow and youthful, almos

cherubic face. What time he did so, a pai

of bright little blue eyes were very bus

with Mr. Caryll's carriage, from whic



Leduc, Mr. Caryll's valet, was in the ac

of removing a portmantle. His mobil

mouth fell into lines of satisfaction.

Still mopping himself, he entered thnn, and, guided by the drone of voices

sauntered into the bar. At sight of Mr

Caryll leaning there, his little eye

beamed an instant, as do the eyes of on

who espies a friend, or—apter figure—th

eyes of the hunter when they sight th

quarry.He advanced to the bar, bowing to Mr

Caryll with an air almost apologetic, an

o the landlady with an air scarcely les

so, as he asked for a nipperkin of ale twash the dust of the road from his throat

The hostess called a drawer to serve him

and departed herself upon the momentou



business of Mr. Caryll's dinner.

"A warm day, sir," said the chubby

man.

Mr. Caryll agreed with him politely

and finished his glass, the other sippin

meanwhile at his ale.

"A fine brew, sir," said he. "Aprodigious fine brew! With all respect

sir, your honor should try a whet of ou

English ale."

Mr. Caryll, setting down his glassooked languidly at the man. "Why do yo

exclude me, sir, from the nation of thi

beverage?" he inquired.

The chubby man's face expresse

astonishment. "Ye're English, sir! Ecod!

had thought ye French!"

"It is an honor, sir, that you should have



hought me anything."

The other abased himself. "'Twas an

unwarrantable presumption, Codso! whic

hope your honor'll pardon." Then hsmiled again, his little eyes twinklin

humorously. "An ye would try the ale,

dare swear your honor would forgive me

know ale, ecod! I am a brewer myself

Green is my name, sir—Tom Green—you

very obedient servant, sir." And he drank

as if pledging that same service hprofessed.

Mr. Caryll observed him calmly and

hought indifferently. "Ye're determined to

honor me," said he. "I am your debtor foyour reflections upon whetting glasses; bu

ale, sir, is a beverage I don't affect, no

shall while there are vines in France."



"Ah!" sighed Mr. Green rapturously

"'Tis a great country, France; is it not

sir?"

"'Tis not the general opinion here apresent. But I make no doubt that i

deserves your praise."

"And Paris, now," persisted Mr. Green"They tell me 'tis a great city; a marvel o

h' ages. There be those, ecod! that sa

London's but a kennel to't."

"Be there so?" quoth Mr. Carylndifferently.

"Ye don't agree with them, belike?

asked Mr. Green, with eagerness.

"Pooh! Men will say anything," Mr

Caryll replied, and added pointedly: "Me

will talk, ye see."

"Not always," was the retort in a sl



one. "I've known men to be prodigiou

short when they had aught to hide."

"Have ye so? Ye seem to have had a

wide experience." And Mr. Carylsauntered out, humming a French ai

hrough closed lips.

Mr. Green looked after him withardened eyes. He turned to the drawe

who stood by. "He's mighty close," said

he. "Mighty close!"

"Ye're not perhaps quite the companyhe cares for," the drawer suggested

candidly.

Mr. Green looked at him. "Very like,

he snapped. "How long does he sta

here?"

"Ye lost a rare chance of finding ou

when ye let him go without inquiring,



said the drawer.

Mr. Green's face lost some of it

chubbiness. "When d'ye look to marry th

andlady?" was his next question.

The man stared. "Cod!" said he. "Marr

he—Are ye daft?"

Mr. Green affected surprise. "I'mistook, it seems. Ye misled me by you

pertness. Get me another nipperkin."

Meanwhile Mr. Caryll had taken hi

way above stairs to the room set apart fohim. He dined to his satisfaction, an

hereafter, his shapely, silk-clad leg

hrown over a second chair, his waistcoa

all unbuttoned, for the day was of a

almost midsummer warmth—he sa

mightily at his ease, a decanter of sherry a

his elbow, a pipe in one hand and a boo



of Mr. Gay's poems in the other. But the

ease went no further than the body, a

witnessed the circumstances that his pip

was cold, the decanter tolerably full, anMr. Gay's pleasant rhymes and quain

conceits of fancy all unheeded. The light

mercurial spirit which he had from natur

and his unfortunate mother, and which hhad retained in spite of the stern trainin

he had received at his adoptive father'

hands, was heavy-fettered now.

The mild fatigue of his journey throug

he heat of the day had led him to loo

forward to a voluptuous hour of indolenc

following upon dinner, with pipe andbook and glass. The hour was come, th

elements were there, but since he coul

not abandon himself to their dominion th

voluptuousness was wanting. The tas



before him haunted him with anticipator

remorse. It hung upon his spirit like a sic

man's dream. It obtruded itself upon hi

constant thought, and the more hpondered it the more did he sicken at wha

ay before him.

Wrought upon by Everard's fanaticis

hat day in Paris some three weeks ago

nfected for the time being by something o

his adoptive father's fever, he had set hi

hands to the task in a glow of passionatexaltation. But with the hour, th

exaltation went, and reaction started in hi

soul. And yet draw back he dared not; too

ong and sedulously had Everard trainehis spirit to look upon the avenging of hi

mother as a duty. Believing that it was hi

duty, he thirsted on the one hand to fulfil

t, whilst, on the other, he recoiled i



horror at the thought that the man upo

whom he was to wreak that vengeanc

was his father—albeit a father whom h

did not know, who had never seen himwho was not so much as aware of hi

existence.

He sought forgetfulness in Mr. Gay. He

had the delicate-minded man's inheren

aste for verse, a quick ear for the melod

of words, the aesthete's love of beauty i

phrase as of beauty in all else; and culturhad quickened his perceptions, develope

his capacity for appreciation. For the tent

ime he called Leduc to light his pipe; and

hat done, he set his eye to the page oncmore. But it was like harnessing a bulloc

o a cart; unmindful of the way it went an

over what it travelled, his eye amble

heavily along the lines, and when he cam



o turn the page he realized with a star

hat he had no impression of what he ha

read upon it.

In sheer disgust he tossed the booaside, and kicking away the second chair

rose lythely. He crossed to the window

and stood there gazing out at nothing, no

conscious of the incense that came to hi

from garden, from orchard, and fro

meadow.

It needed a clatter of hoofs and a clouof dust approaching from the north to draw

his mind from its obsessing thoughts. H

watched the yellow body of the coach as i

came furiously onward, its four horsestretched to the gallop, postillion lusty o

ungs and whip, and the great trail of dus

eft behind it spreading to right and lef



over the flowering hedge-rows to los

tself above the gold-flecke

meadowland. On it came, to draw u

here, at the very entrance to Maidstone, ahe sign of the "Adam and Eve."

Mr. Caryll, leaning on the sill of hi

window, looked down with interest to se

what manner of travellers were these tha

went at so red-hot a pace. From th

rumble a lackey swung himself to th

rough cobbles of the yard. From within thnn came again landlady and chamberlain

and from the stable ostler and boy

obsequious all and of no interest to Mr

Caryll.Then the door of the coach was opened

he steps were let down, and ther

emerged—his hand upon the shoulder o



he servant—a very ferret of a man i

black, with a parson's bands an

neckcloth, a coal-black full-bottomed wig

and under this a white face, rather drawand haggard, and thin lips perpetuall

agrin to flaunt two rows of yellow teet

disproportionately large. After him, and

he more remarkable by contrast, came all, black-faced fellow, very brave i

buff-colored cloth, with a fortune in lac

at wrist and throat, and a heavil

powdered tie-wig.

Lackey, chamberlain and parso

attended his alighting, and then he joine

heir ranks to attend in his turn—hat undearm—the last of these odd travellers.

The interest grew. Mr. Caryll felt tha

he climax was about to be presented, an



he leaned farther forward that he migh

obtain a better view of the awaite

personage. In the silence he caught a rustl

of silk. A flowered petticoat appeared—as much of it as may be seen from the kne

downwards—and from beneath this th

daintiest foot conceivable was seen t

grope an instant for the step. Anothesecond and the rest of her emerged.

Mr. Caryll observed—and be it know

hat he had the very shrewdest eye for woman, as became one of the race fro

which on his mother's side he sprang—

hat she was middling tall, chastel

slender, having, as he judged from hehigh waist, a fine, clean length of limb

All this he observed and approved, an

prayed for a glimpse of the face which he

silken hood obscured and screened fro



his desiring gaze. She raised it at tha

moment—raised it in a timid, frightene

fashion, as one who looks fearfully abou

o see that she is not remarked—and MrCaryll had a glimpse of an oval face, pal

with a warm pallor—like the pallor of th

peach, he thought, and touched, like th

peach, with a faint hint of pink in eithecheek. A pair of eyes, large, brown, and

gentle as a saint's, met his, and Mr. Caryl

realized that she was beautiful and that i

might be good to look into those eyes a

closer quarters.

Seeing him, a faint exclamation escape

her, and she turned away in sudden hasto enter the inn. The fine gentleman looke

up and scowled; the parson looked up an

rembled; the ostler and his boy looked u

and grinned. Then all swept forward an



were screened by the porch from th

wondering eyes of Mr. Caryll.

He turned from the window with a sigh

and stepped back to the table for thinder-box, that for the eleventh time h

might relight his pipe. He sat down, blew

a cloud of smoke to the ceiling, an

considered. His nature triumphed now

over his recent preoccupation; the matte

of the moment, which concerned him not a

all, engrossed him beyond any othematter of his life. He was intrigued t

know in what relation one to the othe

stood the three so oddly assorte

ravellers he had seen arrive. Hbethought him that, after all, the od

assortment arose from the presence of th

parson; and he wondered what the plagu

should any Christian—and seemingly



gentleman at that—be doing travellin

with a parson. Then there was the wil

speed at which they had come.

The matter absorbed and vexed him. fear he was inquisitive by nature. Ther

came a moment when he went so far as t

consider making his way below to pursu

his investigations in situ. It would hav

been at great cost to his dignity, and thi

he was destined to be spared.

A knock fell upon his door, and theandlady came in. She was genial, buxo

and apple-faced, as becomes a landlady.

"There is a gentleman below—" sh

was beginning, when Mr. Carylnterrupted her.

"I would rather that you told me of th

ady," said



"La, sir!" she cried, displaying ivor

eeth, her eyes cast upwards, hand

upraised in gentle, mirthful protest. "La

sir! But I come from the lady, too."He looked at her. "A good

ambassador," said he, "should begin wit

he best news; not add it as a

afterthought. But proceed, I beg. You give

me hope, mistress."

"They send their compliments, an

would be prodigiously obliged if you wao give yourself the trouble of steppin

below."

"Of stepping below?" he inquired, hea

on one side, solemn eyes upon the hostess"Would it be impertinent to inquire wha

hey may want with me?"

"I think they want you for a witness



sir."

"For a witness? Am I to testify to th

ady's perfection of face and shape, to th

heaven that sits in her eyes, to the miraclshe calls her ankle? Are these and othe

hings besides of the same kind what I a

required to witness? If so, they could no

have sent for one more qualified. I am a

expert, ma'am."

"Oh, sir, nay!" she laughed. "'Tis a

marriage they need you for."Mr. Caryll opened his queer eyes

ittle wider. "Soho!" said he. "The parso

s explained." Then he fell thoughtful, hi

one lost its note of flippancy. "Thigentleman who sends his compliments

does he send his name?"

"He does not, sir; but I overheard it."



"Confide in me," Mr. Caryll invited her

"He is a great gentleman," she prepare

him.

"No matter. I love great gentlemen."

"They call him Lord Rotherby."

At that sudden and utterly unexpecte

mention of his half-brother's name—hiunknown half-brother—Mr. Caryll cam

o his feet with an alacrity which a mor

shrewd observer would have set down t

some cause other than mere respect for viscount. The hostess was shrewd, but no

shrewd enough, and if Mr. Caryll'

expression changed for an instant, i

resumed its habitual half-scornful calm s

swiftly that it would have needed eyes o

an exceptional quickness to have read it.

"Enough!" he said. "Who could deny hi



ordship?"

"Shall I tell them you are coming?" sh

nquired, her hand already upon the door.

"A moment," he begged, detaining her

"'Tis a runaway marriage this, eh?"

Her full-hearted smile beamed on hi

again; she was a very woman, with a tastfor the romantic, loving love. "What else

sir?" she laughed.

"And why, mistress," he inquired, eyin

her, his fingers plucking at his nether lip"do they desire my testimony?"

"His lordship's own man will stan

witness, for one; but they'll need another,she explained, her voice reflectin

astonishment at his question.

"True. But why do they need me?" h

pressed her. "Heard you no reason give



why they should prefer me to you

chamberlain, your ostler or your drawer?

She knit her brows and shrugge

mpatient shoulders. Here was a deal opother about a trifling affair. "His lordshi

saw you as he entered, sir, and inquired o

me who you might be."

"His lordship flatters me by thi

nterest. My looks pleased him, let u

hope. And you answered him—what?"

"That your honor is a gentleman newlcrossed from France."

"You are well-informed, mistress," sai

Mr. Caryll, a thought tartly, for if hi

speech was tainted with a French accent i

was in so slight a degree as surely to b

mperceptible to the vulgar.

"Your clothes, sir," the landlady



explained, and he bethought him, then, tha

he greater elegance and refinement of hi

French apparel must indeed proclaim hi

origin to one who had so many occasionof seeing travelers from Gaul. That migh

even account for Mr. Green's attempts to

alk to him of France. His mind returned t

he matter of the bridal pair below.

"You told him that, eh?" said he. "And

what said his lordship then?"

"He turned to the parson. 'The very mafor us, Jenkins,' says he."

"And the parson—this Jenkins—wha

answer did he make?"

"'Excellently thought,' he says

grinning."

"Hum! And you yourself, mistress, wha

nference did you draw?"



"Inference, sir?"

"Aye, inference, ma'am. Did you no

gather that this was not only a runawa

match, but a clandestine one? My lord cadepend upon the discretion of his servant

no doubt; for other witness he woul

prefer some passer-by, some stranger who

will go his ways to-morrow, and not b

ike to be heard of again."

"Lard, sir!" cried the landlady, her eye

wide with astonishment.Mr. Caryll smiled enigmatically. "'Ti

so, I assure ye, ma'am. My Lord Rotherb

s of a family singularly cautious in th

unions it contracts. In entering matrimonhe prefers, no doubt, to leave a back doo

open for quiet retreat should he repent hi

ater."



"Your honor has his lordship'

acquaintance, then?" quoth the landlady.

"It is a misfortune from which Heave

has hitherto preserved me, but which thdevil, it seems, now thrusts upon me. I

will, nevertheless, interest me to see hi

at close quarters. Come, ma'am."

As they were going out, Mr. Caryl

checked suddenly. "Why, what's o'clock?

said he.

She stared, so abruptly came thquestion. "Past four, sir," she answered.

He uttered a short laugh. "Decidedly,

said he, "his lordship must be viewed a

closer quarters." And he led the wa

downstairs.

In the passage he waited for her t

come up with him. "You had bes



announce me by name," he suggested. "It i

Caryll."

She nodded, and, going forward, threw

open a door, inviting him to enter.

"Mr. Caryll," she announced, obedien

o his injunction, and as he went in sh

closed the door behind him.From the group of three that had bee

sitting about the polished walnut table, th

all gentleman in buff and silver ros

swiftly, and advanced to the newcomerwhat time Mr. Caryll made a rapid

observation of this brother whom he wa

meeting under circumstances so odd an

by a chance so peculiar.

He beheld a man of twenty-five, o

perhaps a little more, tall and well made

f already inclining to heaviness, with



swarthy face, full-lipped, big-nosed

black-eyed, an obstinate chin, and

deplorable brow. At sight, by instinct, he

disliked his brother. He wonderedvaguely was Lord Rotherby in appearanc

at all like their common father; but beyon

hat he gave little thought to the tie tha

bound them. Indeed, he has placed it uporecord that, saving in such moments o

high stress as followed in their late

connection, he never could remember tha

hey were the sons of the same parent.

"I thought," was Rotherby's greeting,

note almost of irritation in his voice, "tha

he woman said you were from France."It was an odd welcome, but its oddnes

at the moment went unheeded. His swif

scrutiny of his brother over, Mr. Caryll'



glance passed on to become riveted upo

he face of the lady at the table's head. I

addition to the beauties which from abov

he had descried, he now perceived thaher mouth was sensitive and kindly, he

whole expression one of gentl

wistfulness, exceeding sweet t

contemplate. What did she in this galleyhe wondered; and he has confessed tha

ust as at sight he had disliked his brother

so from that hour—from the very instant o

his eyes' alighting on her there—he love

he lady whom his brother was to wed

felt a surpassing need of her, conceived

hat in the meeting of their eyes their versouls had met, so that it was to him as i

he had known her since he had know

anything. Meanwhile there was hi

ordship's question to be answered. H



answered it mechanically, his eyes upo

he lady, and she returning the gaze o

hose queer, greenish eyes with

sweetness that gave place to no confusion"I am from France, sir."

"But not French?" his lordshi

continued.Mr. Caryll fetched his eyes from th

ady's to meet Lord Rotherby's. "Mor

han half French," he replied, the Frenc

aint in his accent growing slightly morpronounced. "It was but an accident tha

my father was an Englishman."

Rotherby laughed softly, a though

contemptuously. Foreigners were thing

which in his untraveled, unlettere

gnorance he despised. The differenc

between a Frenchman and a South Se



slander was a thing never quit

appreciated by his lordship. Some subtl

difference he had no doubt existed; but fo

him it was enough to know that both werforeigners; therefore, it logicall

followed, both were kin.

"Your words, sir, might be oddly

nterpreted. 'Pon honor, they might!" said

he, and laughed softly again with singula

nsolence.

"If they have amused your lordship I ahappy," said Mr. Caryll in such a tone tha

Rotherby looked to see whether he wa

being roasted. "You wanted me, I think.

beg that you'll not thank me for havindescended. It was an honor."

It occurred to Rotherby that this was

veiled reproof for the ill manners of th



omission. Again he looked sharply at thi

man who was scanning him with suc

nterest, but he detected in the calm, high

bred face nothing to suggest that anmockery was intended. Belatedly he fel

o doing the very thing that Mr. Caryll had

begged him to leave undone: he fell t

hanking him. As for Mr. Caryll himselfnot even the queer position into which h

had been thrust could repress hi

characteristics. What time his lordshi

hanked him, he looked about him at th

other occupants of the room, and foun

hat, besides the parson, sitting pale an

wide-eyed at the table, there was presenn the background his lordship's man—

quiet fellow, quietly garbed in gray, with

a shrewd face and shrewd, shifty eyes

Mr. Caryll saw, and registered, for future



use, the reflection that eyes that ar

overshrewd are seldom wont to look ou

of honest heads.

"You are desired," his lordshipnformed him, "to be witness to

marriage."

"So much the landlady had made knowo me."

"It is not, I trust, a task that wil

occasion you any scruples."

"None. On the contrary, it is thabsence of the marriage might do that.

The smooth, easy tone so masked the inne

meaning of the answer that his lordship

scarce attended to the words.

"Then we had best get on. We are in

haste."

"'Tis the characteristic rashness of fol



about to enter wedlock," said Mr. Caryll

as he approached the table with hi

ordship, his eyes as he spoke turning ful

upon the bride.My lord laughed, musically enough, bu

overloud for a man of brains or breeding

"Marry in haste, eh?" quoth he.

"You are penetration itself," Mr. Caryl

praised him.

"'Twill take a shrewd rogue to bette

me," his lordship agreed."Yet an honest man might worst you

One never knows. But the lady's patienc

s being taxed."

It was as well he added that, for hi

ordship had turned with intent to ask hi

what he meant.

"Aye! Come, Jenkins. Get on with you



patter. Gaskell," he called to his man

"stand forward here." Then he took hi

place beside the lady, who had risen, and

stood pale, with eyes cast down and—aMr. Caryll alone saw—the faintest quive

at the corners of her lips. This served t

ncrease Mr. Caryll's alread

considerable cogitations.

The parson faced them, fumbling at hi

book, Mr. Caryll's eyes watching him wit

hat cold, level glance of theirs. Thparson looked up, met that uncanny gaze

displayed his teeth in a grin of terror, fel

o trembling, and dropped the book in hi

confusion. Mr. Caryll, smilinsardonically, stooped to restore it him.

There followed a fresh pause. Mr

Jenkins, having lost his place, seemed a



some pains to find it again—amazing

ndeed, in one whose profession shoul

have rendered him so familiar with it

pages.Mr. Caryll continued to watch him, i

silence, and—as an observer might hav

hought, as, indeed, Gaskell did think

hough he said nothing at the time—wit

wicked relish.



CHAPTER III. THE

WITNESS

At last the page was found again by Mr

Jenkins. Having found it, he hesitated stila moment, then cleared his throat, and i

he manner of one hurling himself forwar

upon a desperate venture, he began t

read.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered her

n the sight of God," he read, and on in

nasal, whining voice, which not only wahe very voice you would have expecte

from such a man, but in accordance, too

with sound clerical convention. The brida

pair stood before him, the groom with



slight flush on his cheeks and a brigh

glitter in his black eyes, which were no

nice to see; the bride with bowed hea

and bosom heaving as in response tnward tumult.

The cleric came to the end of hi

exordium, paused a moment, and whethe

because he gathered confidence, whethe

because he realized the impressiv

character of the fresh matter upon whic

he entered, he proceeded now in a firmermore sonorous voice: "I require an

charge you both as ye will answer on th

dreadful day of judgment."

"Ye've forgot something," Mr. Carylnterrupted blandly.

His lordship swung round with a

mpatient gesture and an impatient snor



he lady, too, looked up suddenly, whils

Mr. Jenkins seemed to fall into an utte

panic.

"Wha—what?" he stammered. "Whahave I forgot?"

"To read the directions, I think."

His lordship scowled darkly upon MrCaryll, who heeded him not at all, bu

watched the lady sideways.

Mr. Jenkins turned first scarlet, the

paler than he had been before, and bent hieyes to the book to read in a slightl

puzzled voice the italicized words abov

he period he had embarked upon. "An

also speaking unto the persons that shal

be married, he shall say:" he read, an

ooked up inquiry, his faintly-colored

prominent eyes endeavoring to sustain Mr



Caryll's steady glance, but failin

miserably.

"'Tis farther back," Mr. Caryll informed

him in answer to that mute question; anas the fellow moistened his thumb to tur

back the pages, Mr. Caryll saved him th

rouble. "It says, I think, that the ma

should be on your right hand and th

woman on your left. Ye seem to have

reversed matters, Mr. Jenkins. Bu

perhaps ye're left-handed.""Stab me!" was Mr. Jenkins' mos

uncanonical comment. "I vow I am over

flustered. Your lordship is so impatien

with me. This gentleman is right. But that was so flustered. Will you not chang

places with his lordship, ma'am?"

They changed places, after the viscoun



had thanked Mr. Caryll shortly and cursed

he parson with circumstance and fervor

t was well done on his lordship's part

but the lady did not seem convinced by iHer face looked whiter, and her eyes had

an alarmed, half-suspicious expression.

"We must begin again," said Mr

Jenkins. And he began again.

Mr. Caryll listened and watched, and h

began to enjoy himself exceedingly. H

had not reckoned upon so rich aentertainment when he had consented t

come down to witness this odd ceremony

His sense of humor conquered every othe

consideration, and the circumstance thaLord Rotherby was his brother, i

remembered at all, served but to add

spice to the situation.



Out of sheer deviltry he waited unti

Mr. Jenkins had labored for a second tim

hrough the opening periods. Again h

allowed him to get as far as "I charge anrequire you both-," before again h

nterrupted him.

"There is something else ye've forgot,

said he in that sweet, quiet voice of his.

This was too much for Rotherby

"Damn you!" he swore, turning a livi

face upon Mr. Caryll, and failed toobserve that at the sound of that harsh oat

and at the sight of his furious face, the lad

recoiled from him, the suspicion lately i

her face turning first to conviction anhen to absolute horror.

"I do not think you are civil," said Mr

Caryll critically. "It was in your interest



hat I spoke."

"Then I'll thank you, in my interests, t

hold your tongue!" his lordship stormed.

"In that case," said Mr. Caryll, "I mus

still speak in the interests of the lady

Since you've desired me to be a witness

'll do my duty by you both and see yoproperly wed."

"Now, what the devil may you mean by

hat?" demanded his lordship, betrayin

himself more and more at every word.Mr. Jenkins, in a spasm of terror, sough

o pour oil upon these waters. "My lord,

he bleated, teeth and eyeballs protrudin

from his pallid face. "My lord! Perhap

he gentleman is right. Perhaps—Perhap

—" He gulped, and turned to Mr. Caryll

"What is't ye think we have forgot now?



he asked.

"The time of day," Mr. Caryll replied

and watched the puzzled look that cam

nto both their faces.

"Do ye deal in riddles with us?" quot

his lordship. "What have we to do wit

he time of day?""Best ask the parson," suggested Mr

Caryll.

Rotherby swung round again to Jenkins

Jenkins spread his hands in mutbewilderment and distress. Mr. Caryl

aughed silently.

"I'll not be married! I'll not bmarried!"

It was the lady who spoke, and thos

odd words were the first that Mr. Caryl

heard from her lips. They made a



excellent impression upon him, bearin

witness to her good sense and judgment—

although belatedly aroused—an

nforming him, although the pitch wastrained just now; that the rich contralto o

her voice was full of music. He was

udge of voices, as of much else besides.

"Hoity-toity!" quoth his lordship

between petulance and simulate

amusement. "What's all the pother

Hortensia, dear—""I'll not be married!" she repeate

firmly, her wide brown eyes meeting hi

n absolute defiance, head thrown back

face pale but fearless."I don't believe," ventured Mr. Caryll

"that you could be if you desired i

Leastways not here and now and by this.



And he jerked a contemptuous thum

sideways at Mr. Jenkins, toward whom h

had turned his shoulder. "Perhaps yo

have realized it for yourself."A shudder ran through her; colo

flooded into her face and out again

eaving it paler than before; yet sh

maintained a brave front that moved Mr

Caryll profoundly to an even greate

admiration of her.

Rotherby, his great jaw set, his handclenched and eyes blazing, stoo

rresolute between her and Mr. Caryll

Jenkins, in sheer terror, now sank limpl

o a chair, whilst Gaskell looked on—perfect servant—as immovable outwardl

and unconcerned as if he had been a piec

of furniture. Then his lordship turne



again to Caryll.

"You take a deal upon yourself, sir,

said he menacingly.

"A deal of what?" wondered Mr. Caryl

blandly.

The question nonplussed Rotherby. H

swore ferociously. "By God!" he fumed"I'll have you make good you

nsinuations. You shall disabuse this

ady's mind. You shall—damn you!—o

'll compel you!"Mr. Caryll smiled very engagingly. The

matter was speeding excellently—

comedy the like of which he did no

remember to have played a part in sinc

his student days at Oxford, ten years an

more ago.

"I had thought," said he, "that th



woman who summoned me to be a witnes

of this—this—ah wedding"—there was

whole volume of criticism in his utteranc

of the word—"was the landlady of thAdam and Eve.' I begin to think that sh

was this lady's good angel; Fate, clothed

for once, matronly and benign." Then h

dropped the easy, bantering manner with suddenness that was startling. Gallic fir

blazed up through British training. "Let u

speak plainly, my Lord Rotherby. Thi

marriage is no marriage. It is a mocker

and a villainy. And that scoundrel—

worthy servant of his master—is n

parson; no, not so much as a hedge-parsos he. Madame," he proceeded, turnin

now to the frightened lady, "you have bee

grossly abused by these villains."

"Sir!" blazed Rotherby at last, breakin



n upon his denunciation, hand clapped t

sword. "Do ye dare use such words t

me?"

Mr. Jenkins got to his feet, in a slowfoolish fashion. He put out a hand to sta

his lordship. The lady, in the background

ooked on with wide eyes, ver

breathless, one hand to her bosom as if t

control its heave.

Mr. Caryll proceeded, undismayed, to

make good his accusation. He hadropped back into his slightly listless ai

of thinly veiled persiflage, and h

appeared to address the lady, to explai

he situation to her, rather than to justifhe charge he had made.

"A blind man could have perceived

from the rustling of his prayer book whe



he fumbled at it, that the contents wer

strange to him. And observe the volume,

he continued, picking it up and flaunting i

aloft. "Fire-new; not a thumbmaranywhere; purchased expressly for thi

foul venture. Is there aught else so clea

and fresh about the scurvy thief?"

"You shall moderate your tones, sir—

began his lordship in a snarl.

"He sets you each on the wrong side o

him," continued Mr. Caryll, almperturbable, "lacking even the sense t

read the directions which the boo

contains, and he has no thought for th

circumstance that the time of day iuncanonical. Is more needed, madame?"

"So much was not needed," said she

"though I am your debtor, sir."



Her voice was marvelously steady, ice

cold with scorn, a royal anger increasin

he glory of her eyes.

Rotherby's hand fell away from hisword. He realized that bluster was no

he most convenient weapon here. H

addressed Mr. Caryll very haughtily. "Yo

are from France, sir, and something ma

be excused you. But not quite all. You

have used expressions that are not to b

offered to a person of my quality. I feayou scarcely apprehend it."

"As well, no doubt, as those who avoi

you, sir," answered Mr. Caryll, with coo

contempt, his dislike of the man and of thbusiness in which he had found hi

engaged mounting above every othe

consideration.



His lordship frowned inquiry. "And

who may those be?"

"Most decent folk, I should conceive, i

his be an example of your ways."

"By God, sir! You are a thought too

pert. We'll mend that presently. I will firs

convince you of your error, and youHortensia."

"It will be interesting," said Mr. Caryll

and meant it.

Rotherby turned from him, keeping ight rein upon his anger; and so muc

restraint in so tempestuous a man wa

ittle short of wonderful. "Hortensia," h

said, "this is fool's talk. What object coul

seek to serve?" She drew back anothe

step, contempt and loathing in her face

"This man," he continued, flinging a han



oward Jenkins, and checked upon th

word. He swung round upon the fellow

"Have you fooled me, knave?" he bawled

"Is it true what this man says of you—thaye're no parson at all?"

Jenkins quailed and shriveled. Her

was a move for which he was al

unprepared, and knew not how to play t

t. On the bridegroom's part it wa

excellently acted; yet it came too late to b

convincing."You'll have the license in your pocket

no doubt, my lord," put in Mr. Caryll. "I

will help to convince the lady of th

honesty of your intentions. It will showher that ye were abused by this thief fo

he sake of the guinea ye were to pay him.

That was checkmate, and Lor



Rotherby realized it. There remained hi

nothing but violence, and in violence h

was exceedingly at home—being

member of the Hell Fire Club and havinserved in the Bold Bucks under his Grac

of Wharton.

"You damned, infernal marplot! You

blasted meddler!" he swore, and som

other things besides, froth on his lips, th

veins of his brow congested. "What affai

was this of yours?""I thought you desired me for

witness," Mr. Caryll reminded him.

"I did, let me perish!" said Rotherby

"And I wish to the devil I had bit mongue out first."

"The loss to eloquence had bee

rreparable," sighed Mr. Caryll, his eye



upon a beam of the ceiling.

Rotherby stared and choked. "Is ther

no sense in you, you gibbering parrot?" h

nquired. "What are you—an actor or fool?"

"A gentleman, I hope," said Mr. Caryl

urbanely. "What are you?""I'll learn you," said his lordship, an

plucked at his sword.

"I see," said Mr. Caryll in the sam

quiet voice that thinly veiled his inwaraughter—"a bully!"

With more oaths, my lord heaved

himself forward. Mr. Caryll was withouweapons. He had left his sword above

stairs, not deeming that he would b

needing it at a wedding. He never move

hand or foot as Rotherby bore down upo



him, but his greenish eyes grew keen an

very watchful. He began to wonder had h

ndulged his amusement overlong, an

mperceptibly he adjusted his balance foa spring.

Rotherby stretched out to lunge, murde

n his inflamed eyes. "I'll silence you, yo

—"

There was a swift rustle behind him

His hand—drawn back to thrust—wa

suddenly caught, and ere he realized it thsword was wrenched from fingers tha

held it lightly, unprepared for this.

"You dog!" said the lady's voice

strident now with anger and disdain. Shhad his sword.

He faced about with a horrible oath

Mr. Caryll conceived that he wa



becoming a thought disgusting.

Hoofs and wheels ground on th

cobbles of the yard and came to a hal

outside, but went unheeded in thexcitement of the moment. Rotherby stoo

facing her, she facing him, the sword in

her hand and a look in her eyes tha

promised she would use it upon him di

he urge her.

A moment thus—of utter, breathles

silence. Then, as if her passion mounteand swept all aside, she raised the sword

and using it as a whip, she lashed hi

with it until at the third blow it rebounde

o the table and was snapped. Instinctivelhis lordship had put up his hands to sav

his face, and across one of them a red lin

grew and grew and oozed forth bloo



which spread to envelop it.

Gaskell advanced with a sharp cry o

concern. But Rotherby waved him back

and the gesture shook blood from his hanike raindrops. His face was livid; hi

eyes were upon the woman he had gone s

near betraying with a look that none migh

read. Jenkins swayed, sickly, against th

able, whilst Mr. Caryll observed all wit

a critical eye and came to the conclusio

hat she must have loved this villain.The hilt and stump of sword clattered i

he fireplace, whither she hurled it. A

moment she caught her face in her hands

and a sob shook her almost fiercely. Theshe came past his lordship, across th

room to Mr. Caryll, Rotherby making no

shift to detain her.



"Take me away, sir! Take me away,"

she begged him.

Mr. Caryll's gloomy face lightened

suddenly. "Your servant, ma'am," said heand made her a bow. "I think you are very

well advised," he added cheerfully an

offered her his arm. She took it, an

moved a step or two toward the door. I

opened at that moment, and a burly

elderly man came in heavily.

The lady halted, a cry escaped her—cry of pain almost—and she fell t

weeping there and then. Mr. Caryll wa

very mystified.

The newcomer paused at the sight thamet him, considered it with a dull blu

eye, and, for all that he looked stupid, i

seemed he had wit enough to take in th



situation.

"So!" said he, with heavy mockery. "

might have spared myself the trouble o

coming after you. For it seems that she hafound you out in time, you villain!"

Rotherby turned sharply at that voice

He fell back a step, his brow seeming tgrow blacker than it had been. "Father!

he exclaimed; but there was little that wa

filial in the accent.

Mr. Caryll staggered and recoveredhimself. It had been indeed a staggerin

shock; for here, of course, was his ow

father, too.



CHAPTER IV. Mr.

GREEN

There was a quick patter of feet, th

rustle of a hooped petticoat, and the ladwas in the arms of my Lord Ostermore.

"Forgive me, my lord!" she was crying

"Oh, forgive me! I was a little fool, and have been punished enough already!"

To Mr. Caryll this was a surprising

development. The earl, whose arm

seemed to have opened readily enough treceive her, was patting her soothingl

upon the shoulder. "Pish! What's this

What's this?" he grumbled; yet his voice



Mr. Caryll noticed, was if anything kindly

but it must be confessed that it was a dull

gruff voice, seldom indicating any shad

of emotion, unless—as sometimehappened—it was raised in anger. He wa

frowning now upon his son over the girl'

head, his bushy, grizzled brow

contracted.

Mr. Caryll observed—and with wha

nterest you should well imagine—tha

Lord Ostermore was still in a general waa handsome man. Of a good height, bu

slightly excessive bulk, he had a face tha

still retained a fair shape. Short-necked

florid and plethoric, he had the air of thman who seldom makes a long illness a

he end. His eyes were very blue, and th

ids were puffed and heavy, whilst th

mouth, Mr. Caryll remarked in a critical



detached spirit, was stupid rather tha

sensuous. He made his survey swiftly, and

he result left him wondering.

Meanwhile the earl was addressing hison, whose hand was being bandaged b

Gaskell. There was little variety in hi

nvective. "You villain!" he bawled a

him. "You damned villain!" Then he

patted the girl's head. "You found the

scoundrel out before you married him,

said he. "I am glad on't; glad on't!""'Tis such a reversing of the usual orde

of things that it calls for wonder," said

Mr. Caryll.

"Eh?" quoth his lordship. "Who thdevil are you? One of his friends?"

"Your lordship overwhelms me," said

Mr. Caryll gravely, making a bow. He



observed the bewilderment in Ostermore'

eyes, and began to realize at that earl

stage of their acquaintance that to spea

ronically to the Earl of Ostermore wanot to speak at all.

It was Hortensia—a very tearfu

Hortensia now who explained. "Thi

gentleman saved me, my lord," she said.

"Saved you?" quoth he dully. "How did

he come to save you?"

"He discovered the parson," shexplained.

The earl looked more and mor

bewildered. "Just so," said Mr. Caryll. "I

was my privilege to discover that th

parson is no parson."

"The parson is no parson?" echoed hi

ordship, scowling more and more. "The



what the devil is the parson?"

Hortensia freed herself from hi

protecting arms. "He is a villain," sh

said, "who was hired by my LorRotherby to come here and pretend to be

parson." Her eyes flamed, her cheek

were scarlet. "God help me for a fool, m

ord, to have put my faith in that man! Oh!

she choked. "The shame—the burnin

shame of it! I would I had a brother t

punish him!"Lord Ostermore was crimson, too, wit

ndignation. Mr. Caryll was relieved to

see that he was capable of so muc

emotion. "Did I not warn you against himHortensia?" said he. "Could you not hav

rusted that I knew him—I, his father, to

my everlasting shame?" Then he swun



upon Rotherby. "You dog!" he began, and

here—being a man of little invention—

words failed him, and wrath alon

remained, very intense, but entirelnarticulate.

Rotherby moved forward till h

reached the table, then stood leaning upo

t, scowling at the company from under hi

black brows. "'Tis your lordship alone i

o blame for this," he informed his father

with a vain pretence at composure."I am to blame!" gurgled his lordship

veins swelling at his brow. "I am to blam

hat you should have carried her off thus

And—by God!—had you meant to marrher honestly and fittingly, I might find it i

my heart to forgive you. But to practic

such villainy! To attempt to put this fou



rick upon the child!"

Mr. Caryll thought for an instant o

another child whose child he was, and

passion of angry mockery at thforgetfulness of age welled up from th

bitter soul of him. Outwardly he remaine

a very mirror for placidity.

"Your lordship had threatened to

disinherit me if I married her," said

Rotherby.

"'Twas to save her from you,Ostermore explained, entirel

unnecessarily. "And you thought to—to—

By God! sir, I marvel you have th

courage to confront me. I marvel!"

"Take me away, my lord," Hortensia

begged him, touching his arm.

"Aye, we were best away," said the



earl, drawing her to him. Then he flung

hand out at Rotherby in a gesture o

repudiation, of anathema. "But 'tis not th

end on't for you, you knave! What hreatened, I will perform. I'll disinheri

you. Not a penny of mine shall come t

you. Ye shall starve for aught I care

starve, and—and—the world be well riof a villain. I—I disown you. Ye're no son

of mine. I'll take oath ye're no son o

mine!"

Mr. Caryll thought that, on the contrary

Rotherby was very much his father's son

and he added to his observations upo

human nature the reflection that sinners aroddly blessed with short memories. H

was entirely dispassionate again by now.

As for Rotherby, he received hi



father's anger with a scornful smile and

curling lip. "You'll disinherit me?" quoth

he in mockery. "And of what, pray? I

report speaks true, you'll be needing tnherit something yourself to bear yo

hrough your present straitness." H

shrugged and produced his snuff-box wit

an offensive simulation of nonchalance"Ye cannot cut the entail," he reminded hi

almost apoplectic sire, and took snuf

delicately, sauntering windowwards.

"Cut the entail? The entail?" cried th

earl, and laughed in a manner that seeme

o bode no good. "Have you ever trouble

o ascertain what it amounts to? You foolt wouldn't keep you in—in—in snuff!"

Lord Rotherby halted in his stride, half

urned and looked at his father over hi



shoulder. The sneering mask was wiped

from his face, which became blank. "M

ord—" he began.

The earl waved a silencing hand, anurned with dignity to Hortensia.

"Come, child," said he. Then h

remembered something. "Gad!" hexclaimed. "I had forgot the parson. I'l

have him gaoled! I'll have him hanged i

he law will help me. Come forth, man!"

Ignoring the invitation, Mr. Jenkinscuttled, ratlike, across the room, mounte

he window-seat, and was gone in a flas

hrough the open window. He dropped

plump upon Mr. Green, who wacrouching underneath. The pair rolle

over together in the mould of a flowerbed

hen Mr. Green clutched Mr. Jenkins, and



Mr. Jenkins squealed like a trapped

rabbit. Mr. Green thrust his fist carefully

nto the mockparson's mouth.

"Sh! You blubbering fool!" he snappedn his ear. "My business is not with you

Lie still!"

Within the room all stood at gazefollowing the sudden flight of Mr. Jenkins

Then Lord Ostermore made as if t

approach the winnow, but Hortensi

restrained him."Let the wretch go," she said. "Th

blame is not his. What is he but my lord'

ool?" And her eyes scorched Rotherb

with such a glance of scorn as must havkilled any but a shameless man. The

urning to the demurely observan

gentleman who had done her such goo



service, "Mr. Caryll" she said, "I want to

hank you. I want my lord, here, to than

you."

Mr. Caryll bowed to her. "I beg that yowill not think of it," said he. "It is I wh

will remain in your debt."

"Is your name Caryll, sir?" quoth thearl. He had a trick of fastening upon th

nconsequent, though that was scarcely th

case now.

"That, my lord, is my name. I believe have the honor of sharing it with you

ordship."

"Ye'll belong to some younger branch

of the family," the earl supposed.

"Like enough—some outlying branch,

answered the imperturbable Caryll—

est which only himself could appreciate



and that bitterly.

"And how came you into this?"

Rotherby sneered audibly—in self

mockery, no doubt, as he came to reflec

hat it was he, himself, had had hi

fetched.

"They needed another witness," saiMr. Caryll, "and hearing there was at th

nn a gentleman newly crossed fro

France, his lordship no doubt opined tha

a traveller, here to-day and gone for goodomorrow, would be just the witness tha

he needed for the business he proposed

That circumstance aroused my suspicions

and—"

But the earl, as usual, seemed to hav

fastened upon the minor point, althoug

again it was not so. "You are newly



crossed from France?" said he. "Ay, and

your name is the same as mine. 'Twa

what I was advised."

Mr. Caryll flashed a sidelong glance aRotherby, who had turned to stare at hi

father, and in his heart he cursed th

stupidity of my Lord Ostermore. If thi

proposed to be a member of a conspiracy

Heaven help that same conspiracy!

"Were you, by any chance, going to

seek me in town, Mr. Caryll?"Mr. Caryll suppressed a desire to

augh. Here was a way to deal with Stat

secrets. "I, my lord?" he inquired, with a

assumed air of surprise.

The earl looked at him, and from him t

Rotherby, bethought himself, and started

so overtly that Rotherby's eyes grew



narrow, the lines of his mouth tightened

"Nay, of course not; of course not," h

blustered clumsily.

But Rotherby laughed aloud. "Nowwhat a plague is all this mystery?" h

nquired.

"Mystery?" quoth my lord. "Whamystery should there be?"

"'Tis what I would fain be informed,

he answered in a voice that showed h

meant to gain the information. Hsauntered forward towards Caryll, his ey

playing mockingly over this gentlema

from France. "Now, sir," said he, "whose

messenger may you be, eh? What's all thi—"

"Rotherby!" the earl interrupted in

voice intended to be compelling. "Com



away, Mr. Caryll," he added quickly. "I'l

not have any gentleman who has show

himself a friend to my ward, here

affronted by that rascal. Come away, sir!""Not so fast! Not so fast, ecod!"

It was another voice that broke in upo

hem. Rotherby started round. Gaskell, ihe shadows of the cowled fireplac

umped in sheer alarm. All stared at th

window whence the voice proceeded.

They beheld a plump, chubby-faceittle man, astride the sill, a pisto

displayed with ostentation in his hand.

Mr. Caryll was the only one with th

presence of mind to welcome him. "Ha!

said he, smiling engagingly. "My littl

friend, the brewer of ale."

"Let no one leave this room," said Mr



Green with a great dignity. Then, wit

rather less dignity, he whistled shrill

hrough his fingers, and got down lightl

nto the room."Sir," blustered the earl, "this is a

ntrusion; an impertinence. What do yo

want?"

"The papers this gentleman carries,

said Mr. Green, indicating Caryll with th

hand that held the pistol. The earl looke

alarmed, which was foolish in himhought Mr. Caryll. Rotherby covered hi

mouth with his hand, after the fashion o

one who masks a smile.

"Ye're rightly served for meddling,said he with relish.

"Out with them," the chubby ma

demanded. "Ye'll gain nothing by



resistance. So don't be obstinate, now."

"I could be nothing so discourteous,

said Mr. Caryll. "Would it be prying on

my part to inquire what may be younterest in my papers?"

His serenity lessened the earl'

anxieties, but bewildered him; and it toohe edge off the malicious pleasure whic

Rotherby was beginning to experience.

"I am obeying the orders of my Lor

Carteret, the Secretary of State," said MrGreen. "I was to watch for a gentlema

from France with letters for my Lor

Ostermore. He had a messenger a wee

ago to tell him to look for such a visitorHe took the messenger, if you must know

and—well, we induced him to tell us wha

was the message he had carried. There i



so much mystery in all this that my Lor

Carteret desires more knowledge on th

subject. I think you are the gentleman I a

ooking for."Mr. Caryll looked him over with a

amused eye, and laughed. "It distresse

me," said he, "to see so much good though

wasted."

Mr. Green was abashed a moment. Bu

he recovered quickly; no doubt he had me

he cool type before. "Come, come!" saihe. "No blustering. Out with your papers

my fine fellow."

The door opened, and a couple of me

came in; over their shoulders, ere the dooclosed again, Mr. Caryll had a glimpse o

he landlady's rosy face, alarm in he

glance. The newcomers were dirty rogues



ipstaves, recognizable at a glance. One o

hem wore a ragged bob-wig—the cast

off, no doubt, of some gentleman'

gentleman, fished out of the sixpenny tun Rosemary Lane; it was ill-fitting, an

wisps of the fellow's own unkempt hai

hung out in places. The other wore no wi

at all; his yellow thatch fell in streakfrom under his shabby hat, which he ha

he ill-manners to retain until Lor

Ostermore knocked it from his head with

blow of his cane. Both were fierily bottle

nosed, and neither appeared to hav

shaved for a week or so.

"Now," quoth Mr. Green, "will youhand them over of your own accord, o

must I have you searched?" And a wave o

he hand towards the advancin

myrmidons indicated the searchers.



"You go too far, sir," blustered the earl

"Ay, surely," put in Mr. Caryll. "You

are mad to think a gentleman is to submi

o being searched by any knave that comeo him with a cock-and-bull tale about th

Secretary of State."

Mr. Green leered again, and produced paper. "There," said he, "is my Lord

Carteret's warrant, signed and sealed."

Mr. Caryll glanced over it with

disdainful eye. "It is in blank," said he."Just so," agreed Mr. Green. "Cart

blanche, as you say over the water. If yo

nsist," he offered obligingly, "I'll fill i

your name before we proceed."

Mr. Caryll shrugged his shoulders. "I

might be well," said he, "if you are t

search me at all."



Mr. Green advanced to the table. Th

writing implements provided for th

wedding were still there. He took up

pen, scrawled a name across the blankdusted it with sand, and presented it agai

o Mr. Caryll. The latter nodded.

"I'll not trouble you to search me," sai

he. "I would as soon not have thes

noblemen of yours for my valets." H

hrust his hands into the pockets of his fin

coat, and brought forth several papersThese he proffered to Mr. Green, who

ook them between satisfaction an

amazement. Ostermore stared, too stricke

for words at this meek surrender; and welwas it for Mr. Caryll that he was so

stricken, for had he spoken he ha

assuredly betrayed himself.



Hortensia, Mr. Caryll observed

watched his cowardly yielding with a

eye of stern contempt. Rotherby looked o

with a dark face that betrayed nothing.Meanwhile Mr. Green was runnin

hrough the papers, and as fast as he ra

hrough them he permitted himself certai

comments that passed for humor with hi

followers. There could be no doubt that i

his own social stratum Mr. Green mus

have been accounted something of a wag."Ha! What's this? A bill! A bill for

snuff! My Lord Carteret'll snuff you, sir

He'll tobacco you, ecod! He'll smoke yo

first, and snuff you afterwards." He flunhe bill aside. "Phew!" he whistled

"Verses! 'To Theocritus upon sailing for

Albion.' That's mighty choice! D'ye writ



verses, sir?"

"Heyday! 'Tis an occupation to which

have succumbed in moments of weakness

crave your indulgence, Mr. Green."

Mr. Green perceived that here was

weak attempt at irony, and went on wit

his investigations. He came to the last ohe papers Mr. Caryll had handed him

glanced at it, swore coarsely, and droppe

t.

"D'ye think ye can bubble me?'" hcried, red in the face.

Lord Ostermore heaved a sigh of relief

he hard look had faded from Hortensia'

eyes.

"What is't ye mean, giving me thi

rubbish?"

"I offer you my excuses for the content



of my pockets," said Mr. Caryll. "Ye see

did not expect to be honored by you

nquisition. Had I but known—"

Mr. Green struck an attitude. "Nowattend to me, sir! I am a servant of Hi

Majesty's Government."

"His Majesty's Government cannot bsufficiently congratulated," said Mr

Caryll, the irrepressible.

Mr. Green banged the table. "Are y

rallying me, ecod!""You have upset the ink," Mr. Caryl

pointed out to him.

"Damn the ink!" swore the spy. "Anddamn you for a Tom o' Bedlam! I ask you

again—what d'ye mean, giving me thi

rubbish?"

"You asked me to turn out my pockets."



"I asked you for the letter ye hav

brought Lord Ostermore."

"I am sorry," said Mr. Caryll, and eyed

he other sympathetically. "I am sorry todisappoint you. But, then, you assumed to

much when you assumed that I had such

etter. I have obliged you to the fulles

extent in my power. I do not think you

show a becoming gratitude."

Mr. Green eyed him blankly a moment

hen exploded. "Ecod, sir! You are cool.""It is a condition we do not appear t

share."

"D'ye say ye've brought his lordship n

etter from France?" thundered the spy

"What else ha' ye come to England for?"

"To study manners, sir," said Mr

Caryll, bowing.



That was the last drop in the cup of Mr

Green's endurance. He waved his me

owards the gentleman from France. "Fin

t," he bade them shortly.Mr. Caryll drew himself up with a grea

dignity, and waved the bailiffs back, hi

white face set, an unpleasant glimmer i

his eyes. "A moment!" he cried. "You

have no authority to go to such extremes.

make no objection to being searched; bu

every objection to being soiled, and I'lnot have the fingers of these scavenger

about my person."

"And you are right, egad!" cried Lor

Ostermore, advancing. "Harkee, you dirtspy, this is no way to deal with gentlemen

Be off, now, and take your carrion-crow

with you, or I'll have my grooms in wit



heir whips to you."

"To me?" roared Green. "I represent the

Secretary of State."

"Ye'll represent a side of raw venison

f you tarry here," the earl promised him

"D'ye dare look me in the eye? D'ye dare

ye rogue? D'ye know who I am? And donwag that pistol, my fine fellow! Be off

now! Away with you!"

Mr. Green looked his name. Th

rosiness was all departed from his cheekshe quivered with suppressed wrath. "If

go—giving way to constraint—what shal

you say to my Lord Carteret?" he asked.

"What concern may that be of yours

sirrah?''

"It will be some concern of yours, m

ord."



Mr. Caryll interposed. "The knave i

right," said he. "It were to implicate you

ordship. It were to give color to his sill

suspicions. Let him make his search. Bube so good as to summon my valet. H

shall hand you my garments that you ma

do your will upon them. But unless yo

ustify yourself by finding the letter yoare seeking, you shall have to reckon wit

he consequences of discomposing

gentleman for nothing. Now, sir! Is it

bargain?" Mr. Green looked him over, and

f he was shaken by the calm assurance o

Mr. Caryll's tone and manner, he

concealed it very effectively. "We'll makeno bargains," said he. "I have my duty t

do." He signed to one of the bailiffs

"Fetch the gentleman's servant," said he.

"So be it," said Mr. Caryll. "But yo



ake too much upon yourself, sir. Your

duty, I think, would have been to arrest m

and carry me to Lord Carteret's, there t

be searched if his lordship considered inecessary."

"I have no cause to arrest you until

find it," Mr. Green snapped impatiently.

"Your logic is faultless."

"I am following my Lord Carteret'

orders to the letter. I am to effect no arres

until I have positive evidence.""Yet you are detaining me. What doe

his amount to but an arrest?"

Mr. Green disdained to answer. Leducentered, and Mr. Caryll turned to Lord

Ostermore.

"There is no reason why I should detai

your lordship," said he, "and thes



operations—The lady—" He waved a

expressive hand, bent an expressive ey

upon the earl.

Lord Ostermore seemed to waver. Hwas not—he had never been—a man t

hink for others. But Hortensia cut i

before he could reply.

"We will wait," she said. "Since you

are travelling to town, I am sure hi

ordship will be glad of your company

sir."Mr. Caryll looked deep into those grea

brown eyes, and bowed his thanks. "If i

will not discompose your lordship—"

"No, no," said Ostermore, gruff o

voice and manner. "We will wait. I shal

be honored, sir, if you will journey wit

us afterwards."



Mr. Caryll bowed again, and went to

hold the door for them, Mr. Green's eye

keenly alert for an attempt at evasion. Bu

here was none. When his lordship and hiward had departed, Mr. Caryll turned to

Rotherby, who had taken a chair, his man

Gaskell behind him. He looked from th

viscount to Mr. Green.

"Do we require this gentleman?" h

asked the spy.

A smile broke over Rotherby's swaface. "By your leave, sir, I'll remain to se

fair play. You may find me useful, Mr

Green. I have no cause to wish thi

marplot well," he explained.Mr. Caryll turned his back upon him

ook off his coat and waistcoat. He sa

down while Mr. Green spread th



garments upon the table, emptied out th

pockets, turned down the cuffs, ripped u

he satin linings. He did it in

consummate fashion, very thoroughly. Yethough he parted the linings from the cloth

he did so in such a manner as to leave th

garments easily repairable.

Mr. Caryll watched him with interes

and appreciation, and what time h

watched he was wondering might it not b

better straightway to place the spy ipossession of the letter, and thus destro

himself and Lord Ostermore, at the sam

ime—and have done with the task o

which he was come to England. It seemealmost an easy way out of the affair. Hi

betrayal of the earl would be less ugly i

he, himself, were to share th

consequences of that betrayal.



Then he checked his thoughts. Wha

manner of mood was this? Besides, hi

nclination was all to become bette

acquainted with this odd family upowhich he had stumbled in so extraordinar

a manner. Down in his heart of hearts h

had a feeling that the thing he was come t

do would never be done—leastways, noby him. It was in vain that he might attemp

o steel himself to the task. It repelled him

t went not with a nature such as his.

He thought of Everard, afire with th

dea of vengence and to such an extent tha

he had succeeded in infecting Justi

himself with a spark of it. He thought ohim with pity almost; pity that a ma

should obsess his life by such a phantas

as this same vengeance must have been t

him. Was it worth while? Was anything



worth while, he wondered.

Lord Rotherby approached the table

and took up the garments upon which Mr

Green had finished. He turned them oveand supplemented Mr. Green's search.

"Ye're welcome to all that ye can find,

sneered Mr. Green, and turned to MrCaryll. "Let us have your shoes, sir."

Mr. Caryll removed his shoes, i

silence, and Mr. Green proceeded to

examine them in a manner that provokeMr. Caryll's profound admiration. H

separated the lining from the Spanis

eather, and probed slowly and carefull

n the space between. He examined thheels very closely, going over to th

window for the purpose. That done, h

dropped them.



"Your breeches now," said he

aconically.

Meanwhile Leduc had taken up the coat

and with a needle and thread wherewithe had equipped himself he wa

ndustriously restoring the stitches that Mr

Green had taken out.

Mr. Caryll surrendered his breeches

His fine Holland shirt went next, hi

stockings and what other trifles he wore

until he stood as naked as Adam beforhe fall. Yet all in vain.

His garments were restored to him, on

by one, and one by one, with Leduc's aid

he resumed them. Mr. Green was lookincrestfallen.

"Are you satisfied?" inquired Mr

Caryll pleasantly, his good tempe



nexhaustible.

The spy looked at him with a mood

eye, plucking thoughtfully at his lip wit

humb and forefinger. Then he brightenedsuddenly. "There's your man," said he

flashing a quick eye upon Leduc, wh

ooked up with a quiet smile.

"True," said Mr. Caryll, "and there's my

portmantle above-stairs, and my saddle o

my horse in the stables. It is eve

possible, for aught you know, that thermay be a hollow tooth or two in my head

Pray let your search be thorough."

Mr. Green considered him again. "I

you had it, it would be upon your person."

"Yet consider," Mr. Caryll begged him

holding out his foot that Leduc might pu

on his shoe again, "I might have suppose



hat you would suppose that, and dispose

accordingly. You had better investigate to

he bitter end."

Mr. Green's small eyes continued toscrutinize Leduc at intervals. The vale

was a silent, serious-faced fellow. "I'l

search your servant, leastways," the sp

announced.

"By all means. Leduc, I beg that yo

will place yourself at this interestin

gentleman's disposal."What time Mr. Caryll, unaided now

completed the resumption of his garments

Leduc, silent and expressionless

submitted to being searched.

"You will observe, Leduc," said Mr

Caryll, "that we have not come to thi

country in vain. We are undergoing



experiences that would be interesting i

hey were not quite so dull, amusing i

hey entailed less discomfort to ourselves

Assuredly, it was worth while to cross toEngland to study manners. And there ar

sights for you that you will never see i

France. You would not, for instance, had

you not come hither, have had aopportunity of observing a member of th

noblesse seconding and assisting a tipstaf

n the discharge of his duty. And doing i

ust as a hog wallows in foulness—for th

ove of it.

"The gentlemen in your country, Leduc

are too fastidious to enjoy life as it shoulbe enjoyed; they are too prone to adhere t

he amusements of their class. You have

here an opportunity of perceiving how

deeply they are mistaken, what relish ma



ie in setting one's rank on one side, i

forgetting at times that by an accident—

sheer, incredible accident, I assure you

Leduc—one may have been born to gentleman's estate."

Rotherby had drawn himself up, hi

dark face crimsoning.

"D'ye talk at me, sir?" he demanded

"D'ye dare discuss me with your lackey?"

"But why not, since you search me wit

my tipstaff! If you can perceive difference, you are too subtle for me, sir."

Rotherby advanced a step; the

checked. He inherited mental sluggishnes

from his father. "You are insolent!" he

charged Caryll. "You insult me."

"Indeed! Ha! I am working miracles."

Rotherby governed his anger by a



effort. "There was enough between u

without this," said he.

"There could not be too much betwee

us—too much space, I mean."

The viscount looked at him furiously. "

shall discuss this further with you," sai

he. "The present is not the time nor placeBut I shall know where to look for you."

"Leduc, I am sure, will always b

pleased to see you. He, too, is studyin

manners."Rotherby ignored the insult. "We shal

see, then, whether you can do anythin

more than talk."

"I hope that your lordship, too, i

master of other accomplishments. As

alker, I do not find you very gifted. Bu

perhaps Leduc will be less exigent than I.



"Bah!" his lordship flung at him, an

went out, cursing him profusely, Gaskel

following at his master's heels.



CHAPTER V.

MOONSHINE

My Lord Ostermore, though puzzled

entertained no tormenting anxiety on thscore of the search to which Mr. Caryl

was to be submitted. He assured himsel

from that gentleman's confident, eas

manner—being a man who always drew

from things the inference that was obviou

—that either he carried no such letter a

my lord expected, or else he had sdisposed of it as to baffle search.

So, for the moment, he dismissed th

subject from his mind. With Hortensia h

entered the parlor across the stone-flagge



passage, to which the landlady ushere

hem, and turned whole-heartedly to th

matter of his ward's elopement with hi

son."Hortensia," said he, when they wer

alone. "You have been foolish; very

foolish." He had a trick of repeatin

himself, conceiving, no doubt, that th

commonplace achieves distinction b

repetition.

Hortensia sat in an arm-chair by thwindow, and sighed, looking out over th

downs. "Do I not know it?" she cried, an

he eyes which were averted from hi

ordship were charred with tears—tearof hot anger, shame and mortification

"God help all women!" she added bitterly

after a moment, as many another woma



under similar and worse circumstance

has cried before and since.

A more feeling man might hav

conceived that this was a moment iwhich to leave her to herself and her ow

houghts, and in that it is possible that

more feeling man had been mistaken

Ostermore, stolid and unimaginative, bu

not altogether without sympathy for hi

ward, of whom he was reasonably fond—

as fond, no doubt, as it was his capacity tbe for any other than himself—approache

her and set a plump hand upon the back o

her chair.

"What was it drove you to this?"She turned upon him almost fiercely

"My Lady Ostermore," she answered him

His lordship frowned, and his eye



shifted uneasily from her face. In his hear

he disliked his wife excessively, disliked

her because she was the one person in th

world who governed him, who rodrough-shod over his feelings and desires

because, perhaps, she was the mother o

his unfeeling, detestable son. She may no

have been the only person living tdespise Lord Ostermore; but she wa

certainly the only one with the courage t

manifest her contempt, and that in n

circumscribed terms. And yet, dislikin

her as he did, returning with interest he

contempt of him, he veiled it, and wa

oyal to his termagant, never sufferinhimself to utter a complaint of her t

others, never suffering others to censur

her within his hearing. This loyalty ma

have had its roots in pride—indeed, n



other soil can be assigned to them—

pride that would allow no strangers to pr

nto the sore places of his being. H

frowned now to hear Hortensia's angrmention of her ladyship's name; and if hi

blue eyes moved uneasily under hi

beetling brows, it was because th

situation irked him. How should he stanas judge between Mistress Winthrop—

owards whom, as we have seen, he had

kindness—and his wife, whom he hated

yet towards whom he would not b

disloyal?

He wished the subject dropped, since

did he ask the obvious question—in whamy Lady Ostermore could have been th

cause of Hortensia's flight—he woul

provoke, he knew, a storm of censure fro

his wife. Therefore he fell silent.



Hortensia, however, felt that she had

said too much not to say more.

"Her ladyship has never failed to mak

me feel my position—my—my poverty,she pursued. "There is no slight he

adyship has not put upon me, until no

even your servants use me with the respec

hat is due to my father's daughter. And my

father," she added, with a reproachfu

glance, "was your friend, my lord."

He shifted uncomfortably on his feetdeploring now the question with which h

had fired the train of feminine complain

"Pish, pish!" he deprecated, "'tis fancy

child—pure fancy!""So her Ladyship would say, did yo

ax her with it. Yet your lordship knows

am not fanciful in other things. Should I



hen, be fanciful in this?"

"But what has her ladyship ever done

child?" he demanded, thinking thus t

baffle her—since he was acquainted withe subtlety of her ladyship's methods.

"A thousand things," replied Hortensi

hotly, "and yet not one upon which I mafasten. 'Tis thus she works: by words

half-words, looks, sneers, shrugs, an

sometimes foul abuse entirel

disproportionate to the little cause I maunwittingly have given."

"Her ladyship is a little hot," the ear

admitted, "but a good heart; 'tis a

excellent heart, Hortensia."

"For hating-ay, my lord."

"Nay, plague on't! That's womanish i

you. 'Pon honor it is! Womanish!"



"What else would you have a woman

Mannish and raffish, like my Lad

Ostermore?"

"I'll not listen to you," he said. "Ye'renot just, Hortensia. Ye're heated; heated

'll not listen to you. Besides, when all i

said, what reasons be these for the foll

ye've committed?"

"Reasons?" she echoed scornfully

"Reasons and to spare! Her ladyship ha

made my life so hard, has so shamed ancrushed me, put such indignities upon me

hat existence grew unbearable under you

roof. It could not continue, my lord," sh

pursued, rising under the sway of hendignation. "It could not continue. I a

not of the stuff that goes to making martyrs

am weak, and—and—as your lordshi



has said—womanish."

"Indeed, you talk a deal," said hi

ordship peevishly. But she did not heed

he sarcasm.

"Lord Rotherby," she continued

"offered me the means to escape. He urge

me to elope with him. His reason was thayou would never consent to our marriage

but that if we took the matter into ou

hands, and were married first, we migh

depend upon your sanction afterwardshat you had too great a kindness for me t

withhold your pardon. I was weak, m

ord—womanish," (she threw the word a

him again) "and it happened—God helpme for a fool!—that I thought I loved Lor

Rotherby. And so—and so—"

She sat down again, weakly, miserably



averting her face that she might hide he

ears. He was touched, and he even wen

so far as to show something of hi

sympathy. He approached her again, andaid a benign hand lightly upon he

shoulder.

"But—but—in that case—Oh, th

damned villain!—why this mock-parson?

"Does your lordship not perceive? Mus

die of shame? Do you not see?"

"See? No!" He was thoughtful a secondhen repeated, "No!"

"I understood," she informed him,

smile—a cruelly bitter smile—lifting an

steadying the corner of her latel

quivering lip, "when he alluded to you

ordship's straitened circumstances. H

has no disinheritance to fear because h



has no inheritance to look for beyond th

entail, of which you cannot disinherit him

My Lord Rotherby sets a high value upo

himself. He may—I do not know—he mahave been in love with me—though not a

know love, which is all sacrifice, al

self-denial. But by his lights he may hav

cared for me; he must have done, by hiights. Had I been a lady of fortune, not

doubt but he would have made me hi

wife; as it was, he must aim at a mor

profitable marriage, and meanwhile, t

gratify his love for me—base as it was—

he would—he would—O God! I canno

say it. You understand, my lord."My lord swore strenuously. "There is

punishment for such a crime as this."

"Ay, my lord—and a way to avoid



punishment for a gentleman in your son'

position, even did I flaunt my shame i

some vain endeavor to have justice—

hing he knew I never could have done."My lord swore again. "He shall b

punished," he declared emphatically.

"No doubt. God will see to that," shsaid, a world of faith in her quiverin

voice.

My lord's eyes expressed his doubt o

divine intervention. He preferred to speafor himself. "I'll disown the dog. He shal

not enter my house again. You shall not be

reminded of what has happened here

Gad! You were shrewd to have smokedhis motives so!" he cried in a burst o

admiration for her insight. "Gad, child

Shouldst have been a lawyer! A lawyer!"



"If it had not been for Mr. Caryll—" sh

began, but to what else she said he lent n

ear, being suddenly brought back to hi

fears at the mention of that gentleman'name.

"Mr. Caryll! Save us! What is keepin

him?" he cried. "Can they—can they—"

The door opened, and Mr. Caryl

walked in, ushered by the hostess. Bot

urned to confront him, Hortensia's eye

swollen from her weeping."Well?" quoth his lordship. "Did they

find nothing?"

Mr. Caryll advanced with the easy

graceful carriage that was one of his mai

charms, his clothes so skilfully restore

by Leduc that none could have guessed th

severity of the examination they ha



undergone.

"Since I am here, and alone, you

ordship may conclude such to be the case

Mr. Green is preparing for departure. Hs very abject; very chap-fallen. I a

almost sorry for Mr. Green. I am by natur

sympathetic. I have promised to make m

complaint to my Lord Carteret. And so,

rust there is an end to a tiresome matter."

"But then, sir?" quoth his lordship. "Bu

hen—are you the bearer of no letter?"Mr. Caryll shot a swift glance over hi

shoulder at the door. He deliberatel

winked at the earl. "Did your lordship

expect letters?" he inquired. "That wascarcely reason enough to suppose me

courier. There is some mistake,

magine."



Between the wink and the words hi

ordship was bewildered.

Mr. Caryll turned to the lady, bowing

Then he waved a hand over the downs. "Afine view," said he airily, and she stared

at him. "I shall treasure sweet memorie

of Maidstone." Her stare grew stonier

Did he mean the landscape or some othe

matter? His tone was difficult to read—

feature peculiar to his tone.

"Not so shall I, sir," she made answer"I shall never think of it other than wit

burning cheeks—unless it be wit

gratitude to your shrewdness which save

me.""No more, I beg. It is a matter painful t

you to dwell on. Let me exhort you t

forget it. I have already done so."



"That is a sweet courtesy in you."

"I am compounded of sweet courtesy,

he informed her modestly.

His lordship spoke of departure

renewing his offer to carry Mr. Caryll to

own in his chaise. Meanwhile, Mr. Caryl

was behaving curiously. He was tiptoeinowards the door, along the wall, wher

he was out of line with the keyhole. H

reached it suddenly, and abruptly pulled i

open. There was a squeal, and Mr. Greerolled forward into the room. Mr. Caryl

kicked him out again before he could rise

and called Leduc to throw him outside

And that was the last they saw of MrGreen at Maidstone.

They set out soon afterwards, Mr

Caryll travelling in his lordship's chaise



and Leduc following in his master's.

It was an hour or so after candle

ighting time when they reached Croydon

he country lying all white under a fulmoon that sailed in a clear, calm sky. Hi

ordship swore that he would go no farthe

hat night. The travelling fatigued him

ndeed, for the last few miles of th

ourney he had been dozing in his corne

of the carriage, conversation having lon

since been abandoned as too great aeffort on so bad a road, which shook an

olted them beyond endurance. Hi

ordship's chaise was of an old-fashione

pattern, and the springs far from whamight have been desired or expected in

nobleman's conveyance.

They alighted at the "Bells." Hi



ordship bespoke supper, invited Mr

Caryll to join them, and, what time th

meal was preparing, went into a nois

doze in the parlor's best chair.Mistress Winthrop sauntered out into

he garden. The calm and fragrance of th

night invited her. Alone with her thoughts

she paced the lawn a while, until he

solitude was disturbed by the advent o

Mr. Caryll. He, too, had need to think, and

he had come out into the peace of the nigho indulge his need. Seeing her, he mad

as if to withdraw again; but she perceive

him, and called him to her side. He wen

most readily. Yet when he stood beforeher in an attitude of courteous deference

she was at a loss what she should say t

him, or, rather, what words she should

employ. At last, with a half-laugh o



nervousness, "I am by nature ver

nquisitive, sir," she prefaced.

"I had already judged you to be a

exceptional woman," Mr. Carylcommented softly.

She mused an instant. "Are you neve

serious?" she asked him."Is it worth while?" he counter

questioned, and, whether intent o

accident, he let her see something o

himself. "Is it even amusing—to bserious?"

"Is there in life nothing bu

amusement?"

"Oh, yes—but nothing so vital. I spea

with knowledge. The gift of laughter ha

been my salvation."

"From what, sir?"



"Ah—who shall say that? My histor

and my rearing have been such that had

bowed before them, I had become th

most gloomy, melancholy man that stephis gloomy, melancholy world. By now

might have found existence insupportable

and so—who knows? I might have set

erm to it. But I had the wisdom to prefeaughter. Humanity is a delectabl

spectacle if we but have the gift t

observe it in a dispassionate spirit. Such

gift have I cultivated. The squirming of th

human worm is interesting to observe, an

he practice of observing it has thi

advantage, that while we observe it wforget to squirm ourselves."

"The bitterness of your words belie

heir purport."



He shrugged and smiled. "But prove

my contention. That I might explai

myself, you made me for a momen

serious, set me squirming in my turn."She moved a little, and he fell into step

beside her. A little while there wa

silence.

Presently—"You find me, no doubt, a

amusing as any other of your huma

worms," said she.

"God forbid!" he answered soberly.She laughed. "You make an exception i

my case, then. That is a subtle flattery!"

"Have I not said that I had judged you tbe an exceptional woman?"

"Exceptionally foolish, not a doubt."

"Exceptionally beautiful; exceptionall



admirable," he corrected.

"A clumsy compliment, devoid of wit!"

"When we grow truthful, it may b

forgiven us if we fall short of wit."

"That were an argument in favor o

avoiding truth."

"Were it necessary," said he. "For truths seldom so intrusive as to need avoiding

But we are straying. There was a scor

upon which you were inquisitive, yo

said; from which I take it that you soughknowledge at my hands. Pray seek it; I a

a well, of knowledge."

"I desired to know—Nay, but I havasked you already. I desired to know did

you deem me a very pitiful little fool?"

They had reached the privet hedge, an

urned. They paused now before resumin



heir walk. He paused, also, befor

replying. Then:

"I should judge you wise in mos

hings," he answered slowly, critically"But in the matter to which I owe th

blessing of having served you, I do no

hink you wise. Did you—do you lov

Lord Rotherby?"

"What if so?"

"After what you have learned, I shoul

account you still less wise.""You are impertinent, sir," she

reproved him.

"Nay, most pertinent. Did you not asme to sit in judgment upon this matter

And unless you confess to me, how am I t

absolve you?"

"I did not crave your absolution. You



ake too much upon yourself."

"So said Lord Rotherby. You seem to

have something in common when all i

said."

She bit her lip in chagrin. They paced i

silence to the lawn's end, and turne

again. Then: "You treat me like a fool,she reproved him.

"How is that possible, when, already

hink I love you."

She started from him, and stared at hifor a long moment. "You insult me!" she

cried angrily, conceiving that sh

understood his mind. "Do you think tha

because I may have committed a folly

have forfeited all claim to be respected—

hat I am a subject for insolent speeches?"

"You are illogical," said Mr. Caryll, th



mperturbable. "I have told you that I lov

you. Should I insult the woman I have sai

love?"

"You love me?" She looked at him, heface very white in the white moonligh

her lips parted, a kindling anger in he

eyes. "Are you mad?"

"I a'n't sure. There have been moment

when I have almost feared it. This is no

one of them."

"You wish me to think you serious?She laughed a thought stridently in he

ndignation. "I have known you just fou

hours," said she.

"Precisely the time I think I have love

you."

"You think?" she echoed scornfully

"Oh, you make that reservation! You are



not quite sure?"

"Can we be sure of anything?" h

deprecated.

"Of some things," she answered icily

"And I am sure of one—that I a

beginning to understand you."

"I envy you. Since that is so, help me—of your charity!—to understand myself."

"Then understand yourself for a

mpudent, fleering coxcomb," she flung a

him, and turned to leave him.

"That is not explanation," said Mr

Caryll thoughtfully. "It is mere abuse."

"What else do you deserve?" she askehim over her shoulder. "That you should

have dared!" she withered him.

"To love you quite so suddenly?" he



nquired, and misquoted: "'Whoever love

at all, that loved not at first sight?

Hortensia!"

"You have not the right to my namesir."

"Yet I offer you the right to mine," he

answered, with humble reproach."You shall be punished," she promised

him, and in high dudgeon left him.

"Punished? Oh, cruel! Can you then b

— "'Unsoft to him who's smooth t

thee?

Tigers and bears, I've heard som

say,

For proffered love will lov

repay."'

But she was gone. He looked up at th

moon, and took it into his confidence t



reproach it. "'Twas your white face

beglamored me," he told it aloud. "See

how execrable a beginning I've made, and

herefore, how excellent!" And haughed, but entirely without mirth.

He remained pacing in the moonlight

very thoughtful, and, for once, it seemed

not at all amused. His life appeared to b

angling itself beyond unravelling, and hi

vaunted habit of laughter scarce served a

present to show him the way out.



CHAPTER VI.

HORTENSIA'S

RETURN

Mr. Caryll needs explaining as h

walks there in the moonlight; that is, if w

are at all to understand him—a matter b

no means easy, considering that he haconfessed he did not understand himself

Did ever man make a sincere declaratio

of sudden passion as flippantly as he ha

done, or in terms-better calculated talienate the regard he sought to win? Di

ever man choose his time with les

discrimination, or his words with les



discretion? Assuredly not. To suppose tha

Mr. Caryll was unaware of this, would b

o suppose him a fool, and that he mos

certainly was not.His mood was extremely complex; it

analysis, I fear, may baffle us. It must hav

seemed to you—as it certainly seemed t

Mistress Winthrop—that he made a moc

of her; that in truth he was the impudent

fleering coxcomb she pronounced him

and nothing more. Not so. Mock he moscertainly did; but his mockery was al

aimed to strike himself on the recoil—

himself and the sentiments which ha

sprung to being in his soul, and to whic—nameless as he was, pledged as he wa

o a task that would most likely involv

his ruin—he conceived that he had n

right. He gave expression to his feelings



yet chose for them the expression bes

calculated to render them barren of al

consequence where Mistress Winthrop

was concerned. Where another woulhave hidden those emotions, Mr. Caryl

elected to flaunt them half-derisively, tha

Hortensia might trample them under foo

n sheer disgust.

It was, perhaps, the knowledge that di

he wait, and come to her as an hones

devout lover, he must in honesty tell heall there was to know of his odd histor

and of his bastardy, and thus set up

between them a barrier insurmountable

Better, he may have thought, to make frohe outset a mockery of a passion fo

which there could be no hope. And so

under that mocking, impertinent exterior,

hope you catch some glimpse of the rea



suffering man—the man who boasted tha

he had the gift of laughter.

He continued a while to pace the dew

awn after she had left him, and a deedespondency descended upon the spirit o

his man who accounted seriousness

folly. Hitherto his rancor against his fathe

had been a theoretical rancor, a thin

educated into him by Everard, an

accepted by him as we accept

proposition in Euclid that is proved to usn its way it had been a make-believ

rancor, a rancor on principle, for he had

been made to see that unless he wa

nflamed by it, he was not worthy to be himother's son. Tonight had changed all this

o longer was his grievance sentimenta

heoretical or abstract. It was suddenl

become real and very bitter. It was no



onger a question of the wrong done hi

mother thirty years ago; it became th

question of a wrong done himself i

casting him nameless upon the world, hing of scorn to cruel, unjust humanity

Could Mistress Winthrop have guessed

he bitter self-derision with which he had

n apparent levity, offered her his nameshe might have felt some pity for him wh

had no pity for himself.

And so, to-night he felt—as once for moment Everard had made him feel—tha

he had a very real wrong of his own t

avenge upon his father; and the task befor

him lost much of the repugnance that it haheld for him hitherto.

All this because four hours ago he ha

ooked into the brown depths of Mistres



Winthrop's eyes. He sighed, and

declaimed a line of Congreve's:

"'Woman is a fair image in a pool; who

eaps at it is sunk.'"

The landlord came to bid him in t

supper. He excused himself. Sent hi

ordship word that he was over-tired, anwent off to bed.

They met at breakfast, at an early hou

upon the morrow, Mistress Winthrop coo

and distant; his lordship grumpy and muteMr. Caryll airy and talkative as was hi

habit. They set out soon afterwards. Bu

matters were nowise improved. Hi

ordship dozed in a corner of the carriagewhile Mistress Winthrop found mor

nterest in the flowering hedgerows than i

Mr. Caryll, ignored him when he talked



and did not answer him when he se

questions; till, in the end, he, too, lapse

nto silence, and as a solatium for hi

soreness assured himself by lengthywordless arguments that matters were bes

so.

They entered the outlying parts o

London some two hours later, and it stil

wanted an hour or so to noon when th

chaise brought up inside the railing

before the earl's house in Lincoln's InFields.

There came a rush of footmen, a bustl

of service, amid which they alighted an

entered the splendid residence that wapart of the little that remained Lor

Ostermore from the wreck his fortunes ha

suffered on the shoals of the South Sea.



Mr. Caryll paused a moment to dismis

Leduc to the address in Old Palace Yard

where he had hired a lodging. That done

he followed his lordship and Hortensiwithin doors.

From the inner hall a footman ushere

him across an ante-chamber to a room o

he right, which proved to be the library

and was his lordship's habitual retreat. I

was a spacious, pillared chamber, ver

richly panelled in damask silk, and verrichly furnished, having long Frenc

windows that opened on a terrace abov

he garden.

As they entered there came a swifrustle of petticoats at their heels, and Mr

Caryll stood aside, bowing, to giv

passage to a tall lady who swept by wit



no more regard for him than had he bee

one of the house's lackeys. She was, h

observed, of middle-age, lean an

aquiline-featured, with an exaggeratechin, that ended squarely as boot. He

sallow cheeks were raddled to a hecti

color, a monstrous head-dress—like tha

of some horse in a lord mayor's show—coiffed her, and her dress was a mixtur

of extravagance and incongruity, th

petticoat absurdly hooped.

She swept into the room like

battleship into action, and let fly her firs

broadside at Mistress Winthrop from th

hreshold."Codso!" she shrilled. "You have come

back! And for what have you come back

Am I to live in the same house with you



you shameless madam—that have no mor

hought for your reputation than a slut in

smock-race?"

Hortensia raised indignant eyes froout of a face that was very pale. Her lip

were tightly pressed—in resolution

hought Mr. Caryll, who was ver

observant of her—not to answer he

adyship; for Mr. Caryll had little doubt a

o the identity of this dragon.

"My love—my dear—" began hiordship, advancing a step, his tone a ver

salve. Then, seeking to create a diversion

he waved a hand towards Mr. Caryll. "Le

me present—""Did I speak to you?" she turned t

bombard him. "Have you not done har

enough? Had you been aught but a fool—



had you respected me as a husband shoul

—you had left well alone and let her g

her ways."

"There was my duty to her father, to saaught of—"

"And what of your duty to me?" sh

blazed, her eyes puckering mosmalignantly. She reminded Mr. Caryll o

nothing so much as a vulture. "Had y

forgotten that? Have ye no thought fo

decency—no respect for your wife?"Her strident voice was echoing throug

he house and drawing a little crowd o

gaping servants to the hall. To spare

Mistress Winthrop, Mr. Caryll took iupon himself to close the door. Th

countess turned at the sound.

"Who is this?" she asked, measuring th



elegant figure with an evil eye. And Mr

Caryll felt it in his bones that she had don

him the honor to dislike him at sight.

"It is a gentleman who—who—" Hiordship thought it better, apparently, no

o explain the exact circumstances unde

which he had met the gentleman. H

shifted ground. "I was about to presen

him, my love. It is Mr. Caryll—Mr. Justin

Caryll. This, sir, is my Lady Ostermore."

Mr. Caryll made her a profound bowHer ladyship retorted with a sniff.

"Is it a kinsman of yours, my lord?" an

he contempt of the question was lade

with a suggestion that smote Mr. Carylhard. What she implied in wanto

offensive mockery was no more than h

alone present knew to be the exact an



hideous truth.

"Some remote kinsman, I make n

doubt," the earl explained. "Unti

yesterday I had not the honor of hiacquaintance. Mr. Caryll is from France."

"Ye'll be a Jacobite, no doubt, then,

were her first, uncompromising words the guest.

Mr. Caryll made her another bow. "If

were, I should make no secret of it wit

your ladyship," he answered with tharritating suavity in which he clothed hi

most obvious sarcasms.

Her ladyship opened her eyes a littl

wider. Here was a tone she was unused

o. "And what may your business with hi

ordship be?"

"His lordship's business, I think,



answered Mr. Caryll in a tone of suc

exquisite politeness and deference that th

words seemed purged of all thei

rudeness."Will you answer me so, sir?" sh

demanded, nevertheless, her voic

quivering.

"My love!" interpolated his lordshi

hurriedly, his florid face aflush. "We are

vastly indebted to Mr. Caryll, as you shal

earn. It was he who saved Hortensia.""Saved the drab, did he? And fro

what, pray?"

"Madam!" It was Hortensia who spoke

She had risen, pale with anger, and sh

made appeal now to her guardian. "M

ord, I'll not remain to be so spoken of

Suffer me to go. That her ladyship shoul



so speak of me to my face—and to

stranger!"

"Stranger!" crowed her ladyship. "Lard

And what d'ye suppose will happen? Aryou so nice about a stranger hearing what

may have to say of you—you that will b

he talk of the whole lewd town for thi

fine escapade? And what'll the town sa

of you?"

"My love!" his lordship sought again t

soothe her. "Sylvia, let me implore you! Aittle moderation! A little charity

Hortensia has been foolish. She confesse

so much, herself. Yet, when all is said, 'ti

not she is to blame.""Am I?"

"My love! Was it suggested?"

"I marvel it was not. Indeed, I marvel



Oh, Hortensia is not to blame, the sweet

pure dove! What is she, then?"

"To be pitied, ma'am," said hi

ordship, stirred to sudden anger, "that shshould have lent an ear to you

disreputable son."

"My son? My son?" cried her ladyshipher voice more and more strident, her fac

flushing till the rouge upon it was put t

shame, revealed in all its unnatura

hideousness. "And is he not your son, mord?"

"There are moments," he answere

hardily, "when I find it difficult to

believe."

It was much for him to say, and to he

adyship, of all people. It was pur

mutiny. She gasped for air; pumped he



brain for words. Meantime, his lordshi

continued with an eloquence entirel

unusual in him and prompted entirely b

his strong feelings in the matter of his son"He is a disgrace to his name! He alway

has been. When a boy, he was a liar and

hief, and had he had his deserts he ha

been lodged in Newgate long ago—oworse. Now that he's a man, he's a

abandoned profligate, a brawler,

drunkard, a rakehell. So much I have lon

known him for; but to-day he has show

himself for something even worse. I ha

hought that my ward, at least, had bee

sacred from his villainy. That is the lasdrop. I'll not condone it. Damn me! I can

condone it. I'll disown him. He shall no

set foot in house of mine again. Let hi

keep the company of his Grace of Wharto



and his other abandoned friends of th

Hell Fire Club; he keeps not mine. H

keeps not mine, I say!"

Her ladyship swallowed hard. Frored that she had been, she was now ashe

under her rouge. "And, is this wanto

baggage to keep mine? Is she to disgrace

household that has grown too nice t

contain your son?"

"My lord! Oh, my lord, give me leav

o go," Hortensia entreated."Ay, go," sneered her ladyship. "Go

You had best go—back to him. What fo

did ye leave him? Did ye dream ther

could be aught to return to?"

Hortensia turned to her guardian agai

appealingly. But her ladyship bore dow

upon her, incensed by this ignoring; sh



caught the girl's wrist in her claw-lik

hand. "Answer me, you drab! What for di

you return? What is to be done with yo

now that y' are soiled goods? Where shalwe find a husband for you?"

"I do not want a husband, madam,

answered Hortensia.

"Will ye lead apes in hell, then? Bah

Tis not what ye want, my fine madam; 'ti

what we can get you; and where shall w

find you a husband now?"Her eye fell upon Mr. Caryll, standin

by one of the windows, a look of profoun

disgust overplaying the usually immobil

face. "Perhaps the gentleman from Franc—the gentleman who saved you," sh

sneered, "will propose to take the office."

"With all my heart, ma'am," Mr. Caryl



startled them and himself by answering

Then, perceiving that he had spoken to

much upon impulse—given utterance t

what was passing in his mind—"I bumention it to show your ladyship how

mistaken are your conclusions," he added

The countess loosed her hold o

Hortensia's wrist in her amazement, an

ooked the gentleman from France up an

down in a mighty scornful manner

"Codso!" she swore, "I may take it, thenhat your saving her—as ye call it—wa

no accident."

"Indeed it was, ma'am—and a mos

fortunate accident for your son.""For my son? As how?"

"It saved him from hanging, ma'am,

Mr. Caryll informed her, and gave he



something other than the baiting o

Hortensia to occupy her mind.

"Hang?" she gasped. "Are you speakin

of Lord Rotherby?"

"Ay, of Lord Rotherby—and not a word

more than is true," put in the earl. "Do yo

know—but you do not—the extent of youprecious son's villainy? At Maidstone

where I overtook them—at the Adam and

Eve—he had a make-believe parson, an

he was luring this poor child into a mockmarriage."

Her ladyship stared. "Mock-marriage?

she echoed. "Marriage? La!" And agai

she vented her unpleasant laugh. "Did shnsist on that, the prude? Y' amaze me!"

"Surely, my love, you do not apprehend

Had Lord Rotherby's parson not bee



detected and unmasked by Mr. Caryll

here—"

"Would you ha' me believe she did no

know the fellow was no parson?"

"Oh!" cried Hortensia. "Your ladyship

has a very wicked soul. May God forgiv

you!""And who is to forgive you?" snappe

he countess.

"I need no forgiveness, for I have don

no wrong. A folly, I confess to. I was mado have heeded such a villain."

Her ladyship gathered forces for a fres

assault. But Mr. Caryll anticipated it. Iwas no doubt a great impertinence in him

but he saw Hortensia's urgent need, and h

felt, moreover, that not even Lord

Ostermore would resent his crossin



swords a moment with her ladyship.

"You would do well, ma'am, to

remember," said he, in his singularl

precise voice, "that Lord Rotherby evenow—and as things have fallen out—is b

no means quit of all danger."

She looked at this smooth gentlemanand his words burned themselves into he

brain. She quivered with mingling fea

and anger.

"Wha'—what is't ye mean?" quoth she."That even at this hour, if the matte

were put about, his lordship might b

brought to account for it, and it might far

very ill with him. The law of Englan

deals heavily with an offense such as Lor

Rotherby's, and the attempt at a mock

marriage, of which there is no lack o



evidence, would so aggravate the crime o

abduction, if he were informed against

hat it might go very hard with him."

Her jaw fell. She caught more than aadmonition in his words. It almost seeme

o her that he was threatening.

"Who—who is to inform?" she askepoint-blank, her tone a challenge; and ye

he odd change in it from its recen

aggressiveness was almost ludicrous.

"Ah—who?" said Mr. Caryll, raisinhis eyes and fetching a sigh. "It woul

appear that a messenger from th

Secretary of State—on another matter—

was at the Adam and Eve at the time withwo of his catchpolls, and he was

witness of the whole affair. Then again,

and he waved a hand doorwards



"servants are servants. I make no doub

hey are listening, and your ladyship'

voice has scarce been controlled. You can

never say when a servant may cease to ba servant, and become an active enemy."

"Damn the servants!" she swore

dismissing them from consideration. "Wh

s this messenger of the secretary's? Wh

s he?"

"He was named Green. 'Tis all I know.

"And where may he be found?""I cannot say."

She turned to Lord Ostermore. "Wher

s Rotherby?" she inquired. She was hought breathless.

"I do not know," said he, in a voice tha

signified how little he cared.



"He must be found. This fellow'

silence must be bought. I'll not have m

son disgraced, and gaoled, perhaps. H

must be found."Her alarm was very real now. Sh

moved towards the door, then paused, and

urned again. "Meantime, let your lordshi

consider what dispositions you are t

make for this wretched girl who is th

cause of all this garboil."

And she swept out, slamming the dooviolently after her.



CHAPTER VII.

FATHER AND SON

Mr. Caryll stayed to dine at Stretto

House. Although they had journeyed bufrom Croydon that morning, he woul

have preferred to have gone first to hi

odging to have made—fastidious as h

was—a suitable change in his appare

But the urgency that his task dictate

caused him to waive the point.

He had a half-hour or so to himself aftehe stormy scene with her ladyship, i

which he had played again—though in

esser degree—the part of savior t

Mistress Winthrop, a matter for which th



ady had rewarded him, ere withdrawing

with a friendly smile, which caused him t

hink her disposed to forgive him hi

yesternight's folly.In that half-hour he gave himself agai

very seriously to the contemplation of hi

position. He had no illusions on the scor

of Lord Ostermore, and he rated his fathe

no higher than he deserved. But he wa

ust and shrewd in his judgment, and h

was forced to confess that he had founhis father of his vastly different from th

man he had been led to expect. He ha

ooked to find a debauched old rake,

vile creature steeped in vice anwickedness. Instead, he found a weak

easy-natured, commonplace fellow

whose worst sin seemed to be th

selfishness that is usually inseparabl



from those other characteristics. I

Ostermore was not a man of the type tha

nspires strong affection, neither was he o

he type that provokes strong dislike. Hicolorless nature left one indifferent to him

Mr. Caryll, somewhat to his dismay

found himself inclined to extend the ma

some sympathy; caught himself upon th

verge of pitying him for being burdene

with so very unfilial a son and so ver

cursed a wife. It was one of his cherishebeliefs that the evil that men do has a tric

of finding them out in this life, and here

he believed, as shrew-ridden husband an

despised father, the Earl of Ostermorwas being made to expiate that sin of hi

early years.

Another of Mr. Caryll's philosophie



was that, when all is said, man is little o

a free agent. His viciousness or sanctity i

emperamental; and not the man, but hi

nature—which is not self-imbued—musbear the responsibility of a man's deeds

be they good or bad.

In the abstract such beliefs are wel

enough; they are excellent standards b

which to judge where other sufferers tha

ourselves are concerned. But when w

ourselves are touched, they are discounteby the measure in which a man's deeds o

misdeeds may affect us. And although to

an extent this might be the case now wit

Mr. Caryll, yet, in spite of it, he foundhimself excusing his father on the score o

he man's weakness and stupidity, until h

caught himself up with the reflection tha

his was a disloyalty to Everard, to hi



raining, and to his mother. And yet—he

reverted—in such a man as Ostermore

sheer stupidity, a lack of imagination, o

nsight into things as they really are, a lacof feeling that would disable him fro

appreciating the extent of any wrong h

did, seemed to Mr. Caryll to b

extenuating circumstances.

He conceived that he was amazingl

dispassionate in his judgment, and h

wondered was he right or wrong so to beThen the thought of his task arose in hi

mind, and it bathed him in a sweat o

horror. Over in France he had allowed

himself to be persuaded, and had pledgehimself to do this thing. Everard, th

relentless, unforgiving fanatic o

vengeance, had—as we have seen—

rained him to believe that the avenging o



his mother's wrongs was the only thin

hat could justify his own existence

Besides, it had all seemed remote then

and easy as remote things are apt to seemBut now—now that he had met in the fles

his man who was his father—hi

hesitation was turned to very horror. I

was not that he did not conceive, in spitof his odd ideas upon temperament and it

responsibilities, that his mother's' wrong

cried out for vengeance, and that th

avenging of them would be a righteous

fitting deed; but it was that he conceive

hat his own was not the hand to do th

work of the executioner upon one who—after all—was still his own father. It wa

hideously unnatural.

He sat in the library, awaiting hi

ordship and the announcement of dinner



There was a book before him; but his eye

were upon the window, the smooth lawn

beyond, all drenched in summer sunshine

and his thoughts were introspective. Hooked into his shuddering soul, and saw

hat he could not—that he would not—d

he thing which he was come to do. H

would await the coming of Everard, to telhim so. There would be a storm to face, h

knew. But sooner that than carry this vil

hing through. It was vile—most damnabl

vile—he now opined.

The decision taken, he rose and crosse

o the window. His mind had been i

ravail; his soul had known the pangs oabor. But now that this strong resolve had

been brought forth, an ease and peac

were his that seemed to prove to him how

right he was, how wrong must aught els



have been.

Lord Ostermore came in. He announce

hat they would be dining alone together

"Her ladyship," he explained, "has gonforth in person to seek Lord Rotherby. Sh

believes that she knows where to find hi

—in some disreputable haunt, no doub

whither her ladyship would have bee

better advised to have sent a servant. Bu

women are wayward cattle—wayward

headstrong cattle! Have you not founhem so, Mr. Caryll?"

"I have found that the opinion i

common to most husbands," said Mr

Caryll, then added a question touchinMistress Winthrop, and wondered would

she not be joining them at table.

"The poor child keeps her chamber,



said the earl. "She is overwrought—

overwrought! I am afraid her ladyship—

He broke off abruptly, and coughed. "Sh

s overwrought," he repeated iconclusion. "So that we dine alone."

And alone they dined. Ostermore

despite the havoc suffered by his fortunes

kept an excellent table and a clever cook

and Mr. Caryll was glad to discover in hi

sire this one commendable trait.

The conversation was desultorhroughout the repast; but when the clot

was raised and the table cleared of all bu

he dishes of fruit and the decanters o

Oporto, Canary and Madeira, there came moment of expansion.

Mr. Caryll was leaning back in hi

chair, fingering the stem of his wine-glass



watching the play of sunlight through th

ruddy amber of the wine, and considerin

he extraordinarily odd position of a ma

sitting at table, by the merest chancealmost, with a father who was not awar

hat he had begotten him. A question from

his lordship came to stir him partiall

from the reverie into which he wabeginning to lapse.

"Do you look to make a long sojourn i

England, Mr. Caryll?""It will depend," was the vague an

half-unconscious answer, "upon th

success of the matter I am come t

ransact."There ensued a brief pause, durin

which Mr. Caryll fell again into hi

abstraction.



"Where do you dwell when in France

sir?" inquired my lord, as if to make polit

conversation.

Mr. Caryll lulled by his musings intocarelessness, answered truthfully, "A

Maligny, in Normandy."

The next moment there was a tinkle obreaking glass, and Mr. Caryll realized

his indiscretion and turned cold.

Lord Ostermore, who had been in th

act of raising his glass, fetched it dowagain so suddenly that the stem broke i

his fingers, and the mahogany was floode

with the liquor. A servant hastened

forward, and set a fresh glass for hiordship. That done, Ostermore signed t

he man to withdraw. The fellow went

closing the door, and leaving those two



alone.

The pause had been sufficient to enabl

Mr. Caryll to recover, and for all that hi

pulses throbbed more quickly than theihabit, outwardly he maintained his lazil

ndifferent pose, as if entirely unconsciou

hat what he had said had occasioned hi

father the least disturbance.

"You—you dwelt at Maligny?" said hi

ordship, the usual high color all vanishe

from his face. And again: "You dwelt aMaligny, and—and—your name i

Caryll."

Mr. Caryll looked up quickly, as i

suddenly aware that his lordship waexpressing surprise. "Why, yes," said he

"What is there odd in that?"

"How does it happen that you come t



ive there? Are you at all connected with

he family of Maligny? On your mother'

side, perhaps?"

Mr. Caryll took up his wine-glass. "ake it," said he easily, "that there wa

some such family at some time. But it i

clear it must have fallen upon evil days.

He sipped at his wine. "There are non

eft now," he explained, as he set down

his glass. "The last of them died,

believe, in England." His eyes turned fulupon the earl, but their glance seeme

entirely idle. "It was in consequence o

hat that my father was enabled t

purchase the estate."Mr. Caryll accounted it no lie that h

suppressed the fact that the father to who

he referred was but his father by adoption



Relief spread instantly upon Lor

Ostermore's countenance. Clearly, he saw

here was pure coincidence, and nothin

more. Indeed, what else should there havbeen? What was it that he had feared? H

did not know. Still he accounted it an odd

matter, and said so.

"What is odd?" inquired Mr. Caryll

"Does it happen that your lordship wa

acquainted at any time with that vanishe

family?""I was, sir—slightly acquainted—a

one time with one or two of its members

Tis that that is odd. You see, sir, my

name, too, happens to be Caryll.""True—yet I see nothing so oddl

coincident in the matter, particularly i

your acquaintance with these Maligny



was but slight."

"Indeed, you are right. You are right

There is no such great coincidence, whe

all is said. The name reminded me of a—folly of my youth. 'Twas that that made

mpression."

"A folly?" quoth Mr. Caryll, hieyebrows raised.

"Ay, a folly—a folly that went nea

undoing me, for had it come to my father'

ears, he had broke me without mercy. Hwas a hard man, my father; a puritan in hi

deas."

"A greater than your lordship?

nquired Mr. Caryll blandly, masking the

rage that seethed in him.

His lordship laughed. "Ye're a wag

Mr. Caryll—a damned wag!" The



reverting to the matter that was uppermos

n his mind. "'Tis a fact, though—'po

honor. My father would ha' broke me

Luckily she died.""Who died?" asked Mr. Caryll, with

show of interest.

"The girl. Did I not tell you there was girl? 'Twas she was the folly—Antoinette

de Maligny. But she died—mos

opportunely, egad! 'Twas a very damned

mercy that she did. It—cut the—the—whad'ye call it—knot?"

"The Gordian knot?" suggested Mr

Caryll.

"Ay—the Gordian knot. Had she lived

and had my father smoked the affair—

Gad! he would ha' broke me; he woul

so!" he repeated, and emptied his glass.



Mr. Caryll, white to the lips, sat ver

still a moment. Then he did a curiou

hing; did it with a curious suddenness. H

ook a knife from the table, and hacked ofhe lowest button from his coat. This h

pushed across the board to his father.

"To turn to other matters," said he

"there is the letter you were expectin

from abroad."

"Eh? What?" Lord Ostermore took u

he button. It was of silk, interwoven witgold thread. He turned it over in hi

fingers, looking at it with a heavy eye, an

hen at his guest. "Eh? Letter?" h

muttered, puzzled."If your lordship will cut that open, yo

will see what his majesty has to propose.

He mentioned the king in a voice charge



with suggestion, so that no doubt coul

inger on the score of the king he meant.

"Gad!" cried his lordship. "Gad! 'Twa

hus ye bubbled Mr. Green? Shrewd, omy soul. And you are the messenger

hen?"

"I am the messenger," answered MrCaryll coldly.

"And why did you not say so before?"

For the fraction of a second Mr. Caryl

hesitated. Then: "Because I did not judghat the time was come," said he.



CHAPTER VIII.

TEMPTATION

His lordship ripped away the sil

covering of the button with a penknife, andisembowelled it of a small packet, whic

consisted of a sheet of fine and ver

closely-folded and tightly-compresse

paper. This he spread, cast an eye over

and then looked up at his companion, wh

was watching him with simulate

ndolence.His lordship had paled a little, an

here was about the lines of his mouth

ook of preternatural gravity. He looked

furtively towards the door, his heav



eyebrows lowering.

"I think," he said, "that we shall b

more snug in the library. Will you bear me

company, Mr. Caryll?"

Mr. Caryll rose instantly. The ear

folded the letter, and turned to go. Hi

companion paused to pick up thfragments of the button and slip them int

his pocket. He performed the office with

smile on his lips that was half pity, hal

contempt. It did not seem to him that therwould be the least need to betray Lor

Ostermore once his lordship was wedde

o the Stuart faction. He would not fail t

betray himself through some act ohoughtless stupidity such as this.

In the library—the door, and that of th

ante-room beyond it, carefully closed—



his lordship unlocked a secretaire o

walnut, very handsomely inlaid, and

drawing up a chair, he sat down to th

perusal of the king's letter. When he hadread it through, he remained lost in though

a while. At length he looked up and acros

owards Mr. Caryll, who was standing b

one of the windows.

"You are no doubt a confidential agent

sir," said he. "And you will be fully awar

of the contents of this letter that you havbrought me."

"Fully, my lord," answered Mr. Caryll

"and I venture to hope that his majesty'

promises will overcome any hesitatiohat you may feel."

"His majesty's promises?" said my lor

houghtfully. "His majesty may never hav



a chance of fulfilling them."

"Very true, sir. But who gambles mus

set a stake upon the board. Your lordship

has been something of a gamester alreadyand—or so I gather—with little profit

Here is a chance to play another game tha

may mend the evil fortunes of the last."

The earl scanned him in surprise. "You

are excellent well informed," said he

between surprise and irony.

"My trade demands it. Knowledge imy buckler."

His lordship nodded slowly, and fel

very thoughtful, the letter before him, hi

eyes wandering ever and anon to co

again some portion of it. "It is a game i

which I stake my head," he muttere

presently.



"Has your lordship anything else t

stake?" inquired Mr. Caryll.

The earl looked at him again with

gloomy eye, and sighed, but said nothingMr. Caryll resumed. "It is for you

ordship to declare," he said quite coolly

"whether his majesty has covered you

stake. If you think not, it is even possibl

hat he may be induced to improve hi

offer. Though if you think not, for my own

part I consider that you set too high value on that same head of yours."

Touched in his vanity, Ostermore

ooked up at him with a sudden frown

"You take a bold tone, sir," said he, "avery bold tone!"

"Boldness is the attribute next t

knowledge most essential to my calling,



Mr. Caryll reminded him.

His lordship's eye fell before the other'

cold glance, and again he lapsed int

houghtfulness, his cheek now upon hihand. Suddenly he looked up again. "Tel

me," said he. "Who else is in this thing

Men say that Atterbury is not abov

suspicion. Is it—"

Mr. Caryll bent forward to tap th

king's letter with a rigid forefinger. "Whe

your lordship tells me that you are reado concert upon embarking your fortunes i

his bottom, you shall find me disposed

perhaps, to answer questions concernin

others. Meanwhile, our concern is wityourself."

"Dons and the devil!" swore hi

ordship angrily. "Is this a way to speak to



me?" He scowled at the agent. "Tell me

my fine fellow, what would happen if

were to lay this letter you have brought m

before the nearest justice?""I cannot say for sure," answered Mr

Caryll quietly, "but it is very probable i

would help your lordship to the gallows

For if you will give yourself the trouble o

reading it again—and more carefully—

you will see that it make

acknowledgment of the offer of serviceyou wrote his majesty a month or so ago."

His lordship's eyes dropped to the lette

again. He caught his breath in sudden fear

"Were I your lordship, I should leavehe nearest justice to enjoy his dinner i

peace," said Mr. Caryll, smiling.

His lordship laughed in a sickl



manner. He felt foolish—a rare conditio

n him, as in most fools. "Well, well,

said he gruffly. "The matter need

reflection. It needs reflection."Behind them the door opene

noiselessly, and her ladyship appeared i

cloak and wimple. She paused there

unperceived by either, arrested by th

words she had caught, and waiting in th

hope of hearing more.

"I must sleep on't, at least," his lordshipwas continuing. "'Tis too grave a matter to

be determined thus in haste."

A faint sound caught the keen ears o

Mr. Caryll. He turned with a leisurelineshat bore witness to his miraculous self

control. Perceiving the countess, h

bowed, and casually put his lordship o



his guard.

"Ah!" said he. "Here is her ladyship

returned."

Lord Ostermore gasped audibly an

swung round in an alarm than whic

nothing could have betrayed him mor

effectively. "My—my love!" he criedstammering, and by his wild haste t

conceal the letter that he held, drew he

attention to it.

Mr. Caryll stepped between them, hiback to his lordship, that he might act as

screen under cover of which to dispos

safely of that dangerous document. But h

was too late. Her ladyship's quick eyehad flashed to it, and if the distanc

precluded the possibility of he

discovering anything that might be writte



upon it, she, nevertheless, could see th

curious nature of the paper, which was o

he flimsiest tissue of a sort extremel

uncommon."What is't ye hide?" said she, as sh

came forward. "Why, we are very close

surely! What mischief is't ye hatch, m

ord?"'

"Mis—mischief, my love?" He smile

propitiatingly—hating her more than eve

n that moment. He had stuffed the lettento an inner pocket of his coat, and bu

hat she had another matter to concern he

at the moment she would not have allowe

he question she had asked to be so puaside. But this other matter upon her min

ouched her very closely.

"Devil take it, whatever it may be



Rotherby is here."

"Rotherby?" His demeanor changed

from conciliating it was of a sudde

ransformed to indignant. "What makes hhere?" he demanded. "Did I not forbid hi

my house?"

"I brought him," she answerepregnantly.

But for once he was not to be put down

"Then you may take him hence again," sai

he. "I'll not have him under my roof—under the same roof with that poor chil

he used so infamously. I'll not suffer it!"

The Gorgon cannot have looked mor

coldly wicked than her ladyship just then

"Have a care, my lord!" she muttere

hreateningly. "Oh, have a care, I do

beseech you. I am not so to be crossed!"



"Nor am I, ma'am," he rejoined, an

hen, before more could be said, Mr

Caryll stepped forward to remind them o

his presence—which they seemed to stann danger of forgetting.

"I fear that I intrude, my lord," said he

and bowed in leave-taking. "I shall wai

upon your lordship later. Your mos

devoted. Ma'am, your very humbl

servant." And he bowed himself out.

In the ante-room he came upon LorRotherby, striding to and fro, his brow al

furrowed with care. At sight of Mr

Caryll, the viscount's scowl grew blacker

"Oons and the devil!" he cried. "Whamake you here?"

"That," said Mr. Caryll pleasantly, "i

he very question your father is asking he



adyship concerning yourself. You

servant, sir." And airy, graceful, smiling

hat damnable close smile of his, he wa

gone, leaving Rotherby very hot anangry.

Outside Mr. Caryll hailed a chair, and

had himself carried to his lodging in Ol

Palace Yard, where Leduc awaited him

As his bearers swung briskly along, Mr

Caryll sat back and gave himself up t

hought.Lord Ostermore interested him vastly

For a moment that day the earl ha

aroused his anger, as you may have judged

from the sudden resolve upon which hhad acted when he delivered him tha

etter, thus embarking at the eleventh hou

upon a task which he had alread



determined to abandon. He knew not now

whether to rejoice or deplore that he ha

acted upon that angry impulse. He knew

not, indeed, whether to pity or despise thiman who was swayed by no such hig

motives as must have affected most o

hose who were faithful to the exile

James. Those motives—motives ochivalry and romanticism in most cases—

Lord Ostermore would have despised i

he could have understood them; for he wa

a man of the type that despises all thing

hat are not essentially practical, whos

results are not immediately obvious

Being all but ruined by his associatiowith the South Sea Company, he wa

willing for the sake of profit to turn traito

o the king de facto, even as thirty year

ago, actuated by similar motives, he ha



urned traitor to the king de jure.

What was one to make of such a man

wondered Mr. Caryll. If he were equippe

with wit enough to apprehend the basenesof his conduct, he would be easil

understood and it would be easy t

despise him. But Mr. Caryll perceived

hat he was dealing with one who neve

probed into the deeps of anything—

himself and his own conduct least of all—

and that a deplorable lack of perceptionof understanding almost, deprived hi

ordship of the power to feel as most me

feel, to judge as most men judge. And

hence was it that Mr. Caryll thought him subject for pity rather than contempt. Eve

n that other thirty-year-old matter that s

closely touched Mr. Caryll, the latter wa

sure that the same pitiful shortcoming



might be urged in the man's excuse.

Meanwhile, behind him at Stretto

House, Mr. Caryll had left a scene o

strife between Lady Ostermore and heson on one side and Lord Ostermore o

he other. Weak and vacillating as he was

n most things, it seemed that the ear

could be strong in his dislike of his son

and firm in his determination not t

condone the infamy of his behavio

oward Hortensia Winthrop."The fault is yours," Rotherby sought t

excuse himself again—employing the ol

argument, and in an angry, contemptuou

one that was entirely unfilial. "I'd hamarried the girl in earnest, but for you

hreats to disinherit me."

"You fool!" his father stormed at him



"did you suppose that if I should disinheri

you for marrying her, I should be likely to

do less for your luring her into a moc

marriage? I've done with you! Go youways for a damned profligate—a scanda

o the very name of gentleman. I've don

with you!"

And to that the earl adhered in spite o

all that Rotherby and his mother coul

urge. He stamped out of the library with

final command to his son to quit his housand never disgrace it again by hi

presence. Rotherby looked ruefully at hi

mother.

"He means it,"' said he. "He neveoved me. He was never a father to me."

"Were you ever greatly a son to him?

asked her ladyship.



"As much as he would ha' me be," h

answered, his black face very sullen. "Oh

sdeath! I am damnably used by him." H

paced the chamber, storming. "All thigarboil about nothing!", he complained

"Was he never young himself? And when

all is said, there's no harm done. The girl'

been fetched home again."

"Pshaw! Ye're a fool, Rotherby—a

fool, and there's an end on't," said hi

mother. "I sometimes wonder which is thgreater fool—you or your father. And ye

he can marvel that you are his son. Wha

do ye think would have happened if yo

had had your way with that bread-andbutter miss? It had been matter enough t

hang you."

"Pooh!" said the viscount, dropping int



a chair and staring sullenly at the carpe

Then sullenly he added: "His lordship

would have been glad on't—so some on

would have been pleased. As it is—""As it is, ye'd better find the man Gree

who was at Maidstone, and stop his mout

with guineas. He is aware of wha

passed."

"Bah! Green was there on othe

business." And he told her of th

suspicions the messenger entertaineagainst Mr. Caryll.

It set her ladyship thinking. "Why," sh

said presently, "'twill be that!"

"'Twill be what, ma'am?" asked

Rotherby, looking up.

"Why, this fellow Caryll must ha

bubbled the messenger in spite of th



search he may have made. I found th

popinjay here with your father, the pair a

hick as thieves—and your father with

paper in his hand as fine as a cobwebSdeath! I'll be sworn he's a damne

Jacobite."

Rotherby was on his feet in an instant

He remembered suddenly all that he ha

overheard at Maidstone. "Oho!" h

crowed. "What cause have ye to thin

hat?""Cause? Why, what I have seen

Besides, I feel it in my bones. My ever

nstinct tells me 'tis so."

"If you should prove right! Oh, if yoshould prove right! Death! I'd find a wa

o settle the score of that pert fellow fro

France, and to dictate terms to hi



ordship at the same time."

Her ladyship stared at him. "Ye're an

unnatural hound, Rotherby. Would ye

betray your own father?"

"Betray him? No! But I'll set a term t

his plotting. Egad! Has he not lost enoug

n the South Sea Bubble, without sinkinhe little that is left in some wild-goos

Jacobite plot?"

"How shall it matter to you, since he'

sworn to disinherit you?""How, madam?" Rotherby laughed

cunningly. "I'll prevent the one and th

other—and pay off Mr. Caryll at the sam

ime. Three birds with one stone, let m

perish!" He reached for his hat. "I mus

find this fellow Green."

"What will you do?" she asked, a sligh



anxiety trembling in her voice.

"Stir up his suspicions of Caryll. He'l

be ready enough to act after hi

discomfiture at Maidstone. I'll warranhe's smarting under it. If once we can fin

cause to lay Caryll by the heels, the fear o

he consequences should bring hi

ordship to his senses. 'Twill be my turn

hen."

"But you'll do nothing that—that wil

hurt your father?" she enjoined him, hehand upon his shoulder.

"Trust me," he laughed, and added

cynically: "It would hardly sort with m

nterests to involve him. It will serve mbest to frighten him into reason and

sense of his paternal duty."



CHAPTER IX. THE

CHAMPION

Mr. Caryll was well and handsomel

housed, as became the man of fashion, ihe lodging he had taken in Old Palac

Yard. Knowing him from abroad, it wa

not impossible that the government—

fearful of sedition since the disturbanc

caused by the South Sea distress, an

aware of an undercurrent of Jacobitism—

might for a time, at least, keep an eye upohim. It behooved him, therefore, to appea

neither more nor less than a lounger,

gentleman of pleasure who had come t

London in quest of diversion. To suppor



his appearance, Mr. Caryll had sought ou

some friends of his in town. There wer

Stapleton and Collis, who had been a

Oxford with him, and with whom he haever since maintained a correspondenc

and a friendship. He sought them out o

he very evening of his arrival—after hi

nterview with Lord Ostermore. He hahe satisfaction of being handsomel

welcomed by them, and was plunge

under their guidance into the gaieties tha

he town afforded liberally for people o

quality.

Mr. Caryll was—as I hope you hav

gathered—an agreeable fellow, very freemoreover, with the contents of his well

equipped purse; and so you may conceiv

hat the town showed him a very friendly

cordial countenance. He fell into th



habits of the men whose company h

frequented; his days were as idle as theirs

and spent at the parade, the Ring, the play

he coffeehouse and the ordinary.But under the gay exterior he affecte

he carried a spirit of most vile unrest. Th

anger which had prompted his impulse t

execute, after all, the business on which h

was come, and to deliver his father th

etter that was to work his ruin, was al

spent. He had cooled, and cool it was idlfor him to tell himself that Lor

Ostermore, by his heartless allusion to th

crime of his early years, had prove

himself worthy of nothing but the pit MrCaryll had been sent to dig for him. Ther

were moments when he sought to compe

himself so to think, to steel himself agains

all other considerations. But it was idle



The reflection that the task before him wa

unnatural came ever to revolt him. To gain

ease, the most that he could do—and h

had the faculty of it developed in preternatural degree—was to put th

business from him for the time, endeavo

o forget it. And he had another matter to

consider and to plague him—the matter oHortensia Winthrop. He thought of her

great deal more than was good for hi

peace of mind, for all that he pretended t

a gladness that things were as they were

Each morning that he lounged at th

parade in St. James's Park, each evenin

hat he visited the Ring, it was in the hopof catching some glimpse of her among th

fashionable women that went abroad t

see and to be seen. And on the third

morning after his arrival the thing h



hoped for came to pass.

It had happened that my lady ha

ordered her carriage that morning, dresse

herself with the habitual splendor, whicbut set off the shortcomings of her lea

and angular person, egregiously coiffed

pulvilled and topknotted, and she had sen

a message amounting to a command t

Mistress Winthrop that she should drive i

he park with her.

Poor Hortensia, whose one desire wao hide her face from the town'

uncharitable sight just then, fearing

ndeed, that Rumor's unscrupulous tongu

would be as busy about her reputation aher ladyship had represented, attempted t

assert herself by refusing to obey th

command. It was in vain. Her ladyship



dispensed with ambassadors, and went i

person to convey her orders to he

husband's ward, and to enforce them.

"What's this I am told?" quoth she, ashe sailed into Hortensia's room. "Do m

wishes count for nothing, that you send m

pert answers by my woman?"

Hortensia rose. She had been sitting b

he window, a book in her lap. "Not so

ndeed, madam. Not pert, I trust. I am non

so well, and I fear the sun.""'Tis little wonder," laughed he

adyship; "and I'm glad on't, for it show

ye have a conscience somewhere. But 'ti

no matter for that. I am tender for youreputation, mistress, and I'll not have yo

shunning daylight like the guilty thing y

know yourself to be."



"'Tis false, madam," said Hortensia

with indignation. "Your ladyship knows i

o be false."

"Harkee, ninny, if you'd have the towbelieve it false, you'll show yourself—

show that ye have no cause for shame, n

cause to hide you from the eyes of hones

folk. Come, girl; bid your woman get you

hood and tippet. The carriage stays fo

us."

To Hortensia her ladyship's seemedafter all, a good argument. Did she hide

what must the town think but that i

confirmed the talk that she made no doub

was going round already. Better to goforth and brave it, and surely it shoul

disarm the backbiters if she showe

herself in the park with Lord Rotherby'



own mother.

It never occurred to her that thi

seeming tenderness for her reputatio

might be but wanton cruelty on headyship's part; a gratifying of her splee

against the girl by setting her in the pillor

of public sight to the end that she shoul

experience the insult of superciliou

glances and lips that smile with a

ostentation of furtiveness; a desire to pu

down her pride and break the spirit whicmy lady accounted insolent and stubborn.

Suspecting naught of this, sh

consented, and drove out with he

adyship as she was desired to do. Buunderstanding of her ladyship's crue

motives, and repentance of her ow

acquiescence, were not long in following



Soon—very soon—she realized tha

anything would have been better than th

ordeal she was forced to undergo.

It was a warm, sunny morning, and thpark was crowded with fashionabl

oungers. Lady Ostermore left her carriag

at the gates, and entered the enclosure o

foot, accompanied by Hortensia an

followed at a respectful distance by

footman. Her arrival proved something o

a sensation. Hats were swept off to headyship, sly glances flashed at he

companion, who went pale, but apparentl

serene, eyes looking straight before her

and there was an obvious concealing osmiles at first, which later grew to be al

unconcealed, and, later still, becam

supplemented by remarks that all migh

hear, remarks which did not escape—a



hey were meant not to escape—he

adyship and Mistress Winthrop.

"Madam," murmured the girl, in he

agony of shame, "we were not welladvised to come. Will not your ladyship

urn back?"

Her ladyship displayed a vinegarsmile, and looked at her companion ove

he top of her slowly moving fan. "Why

s't not pleasant here?" quoth she. "'Twil

be more agreeable under the trees yonderThe sun will not reach you there, child."

"'Tis not the sun I mind, madam," said

Hortensia, but received no answer

Perforce she must pace on beside headyship.

Lord Rotherby came by, arm in ar

with his friend, the Duke of Wharton. I



was a one-sided friendship. Lor

Rotherby was but one of the many of hi

ype who furnished a court, a valetaille, t

he gay, dissolute, handsome, witty dukewho might have been great had he no

preferred his vices to his worthier parts.

As they went by, Lord Rotherby bared

his head and bowed, as did hi

companion. Her ladyship smiled upo

him, but Hortensia's eyes looked rigidl

ahead, her face a stone. She heard higrace's insolent laugh as they passed on

she heard his voice—nowise subdued, fo

he was a man who loved to let the worl

hear what he might have to say."Gad! Rotherby, the wind has changed

Your Dulcinea flies with you o

Wednesday, and has ne'er a glance for you



o' Saturday! I' faith! ye deserve no better

Art a clumsy gallant to have bee

overtaken, and the maid's in the right on

o resent your clumsiness."Rotherby's reply was lost in a splutte

of laughter from a group of sycophant

who had overheard his grace's criticis

and were but too ready to laugh at augh

his grace might deign to utter. Her cheek

burned; it was by an effort that sh

suppressed the tears that anger waforcing to her eyes.

The duke, 'twas plain, had set th

fashion. Emulators were not wanting

Stray words she caught; by instinct washe conscious of the oglings, the flutterin

of fans from the women, the flashing o

quizzing-glasses from the men. And



everywhere was there a suppressed laugh

a stifled exclamation of surprise at he

appearance in public—yet not so stifle

but that it reached her, as it was intendedhat it should.

In the shadow of a great elm, aroun

which there was a seat, a little group ha

gathered, of which the centre was th

sometime toast of the town and queen o

many Wells, the Lady Mary Deller, stil

beautiful and still unwed—as is so oftehe way of reigning toasts—but alread

past her pristine freshness, already leanin

upon the support of art to maintain th

endowments she had had from nature. Shwas accounted witty by the witless, an

by some others.

Of the group that paid its court to he



and her companions—two gigglin

cousins in their first season were Mr

Caryll and his friends, Sir Harry Colli

and Mr. Edward Stapleton, the former owhom—he was the lady's brother-in-law

—had just presented him. Mr. Caryll wa

dressed with even more than his ordinar

magnificence. He was in dove-colorecloth, his coat very richly laced with gold

his waistcoat—of white brocade wit

eweled buttons, the flower-patter

outlined in finest gold thread—descende

midway to his knees, whilst the ruffles a

his wrists and the Steinkirk at his throa

were of the finest point. He cut a figure osupremest elegance, as he stood there, hi

chestnut head slightly bowed in deferenc

as my Lady Mary spoke, his hat tucke

under his arm, his right hand outstretche



beside him to rest upon the gold head o

his clouded-amber cane.

To the general he was a stranger still in

own, and of the sort that draws the eyand provokes inquiry. Lady Mary, the only

goal of whose shallow existence was th

attention of the sterner sex, who loved t

break hearts as a child breaks toys, for th

fun of seeing how they look when broke

—and who, because of that, ha

succeeded in breaking far fewer than shfondly imagined—looked up into his fac

with the "most perditiously alluring" eye

n England—so Mr. Craske, the poet, who

stood at her elbow now, had describedhem in the dedicatory sonnet of his las

book of poems. (Wherefore, in parenthesi

be it observed, she had rewarded hi

with twenty guineas, as he had calculate



hat she would.)

There was a sudden stir in the group

Mr. Craske had caught sight of Lady

Ostermore and Mistress Winthrop, and hfell to giggling, a flimsy handkerchief t

his painted lips. "Oh, 'Sbud!" he bleated

"Let me die! The audaciousness of th

creature! And behold me the port and

glance of her! Cold as a vestal, let m

perish!"

Lady Mary turned with the others took in the direction he was pointing—

pointing openly, with no thought o

dissembling.

Mr. Caryll's eyes fell upon MistresWinthrop, and his glance was oddl

perceptive. He observed those matters o

which Mr. Craske had seemed to mak



sardonic comment: the erect stiffness o

her carriage, the eyes that looked neithe

o right nor left, and the pallor of her face

He observed, too, the complacent air witwhich her ladyship advanced beside he

husband's ward, her fan moving languidly

her head nodding to her acquaintance, a

n supreme unconcern of the stir hecoming had effected.

Mr. Caryll had been dull indeed

knowing what he knew, had he nounderstood to the full the humiliation t

which Mistress Hortensia was being o

purpose set submitted.

And just then Rotherby, who had turnedwith Wharton and another now, came b

hem again. This time he halted, and hi

companions with him, for just a moment



o address his mother. She turned; ther

was an exchange of greetings, in whic

Mistress Hortensia standing rigid as ston

—took no part. A silence fell aboutquizzing-glasses went up; all eyes wer

focussed upon the group. Then Rotherb

and his friends resumed their way.

"The dog!" said Mr. Caryll, betwee

his teeth, but went unheard by any, for i

hat moment Dorothy Deller—the younge

of the Lady Mary's cousins—gavexpression to the generous and as ye

unsullied little heart that was her own.

"Oh, 'tis shameful!" she cried. "Wil

you not go speak with her, Molly?"The Lady Mary stiffened. She looked a

he company about her with an apologeti

smile. "I beg that ye'll not heed the child,



said she. "'Tis not that she is withou

morals—but without knowledge. A

nnocent little fool; no worse."

"'Tis bad enough, I vow," laughed anold beau, who sought fame as a man of

cynical turn of humor.

"But fortunately rare," said Mr. Caryldryly. "Like charity, almost unknown in

his Babylon."

His tone was not quite nice, althoug

perhaps the Lady Mary was the only ono perceive the note of challenge in it. Bu

Mr. Craske, the poet, diverted attention to

himself by a prolonged, maliciou

chuckle. Rotherby was just moving awafrom his mother at that moment.

"They've never a word for each othe

o-day!" he cried. "Oh, 'Sbud! not so muc



as the mercy of a glance will the lad

afford him." And he burst into the ballad

of King Francis:

"Souvent femme varie,Bien, fol est qui s'

fie!"

and laughed his prodigious delight a

he aptness of his quotation.Mr. Caryll put up his gold-rimmed

quizzing-glass, and directed through tha

powerful weapon of offence an eye o

supreme displeasure upon the singer. Hcould not contain his rage, yet from hi

anguid tone none would have suspecte

t. "Sir," said he, "ye've a singula

unpleasant voice."

Mr. Craske, thrown out of countenanc

by so much directness, could only stare

he same did the others, though some few



ittered, for Mr. Craske, when all wa

said, was held in no great esteem by th

discriminant.

Mr. Caryll lowered his glass. "I'vheard it said by the uncharitable that y

were a lackey before ye became

plagiarist. 'Tis a rumor I shall contradic

n future; 'tis plainly a lie, for your voic

betrays you to have been a chairman."

"Sir—sir—" spluttered the poetaster

crimson with anger and mortification. "Ihis—is this—seemly—betwee

gentlemen?"

"Between gentlemen it would not b

seemly," Mr. Caryll agreed.

Mr. Craske, quivering, yet controllin

himself, bowed stiffly. "I have too muc

respect for myself—" he gasped.



"Ye'll be singular in that, no doubt,

said Mr. Caryll, and turned his shoulde

upon him.

Again Mr. Craske appeared to make aeffort at self-control; again he bowed. "

know—I hope—what is due to the Lad

Mary Deller, to—to answer you as—a

befits. But you shall hear from me, sir

You shall hear from me."

He bowed a third time—a bow tha

ook in the entire company—and withdrewn high dudgeon and with a great show o

dignity. A pause ensued, and then the Lady

Mary reproved Mr. Caryll.

"Oh, 'twas cruel in you, sir," she cried"Poor Mr. Craske! And to dub him

plagiarist! 'Twas the unkindest cut of all!"

"Truth, madam, is never kind."



"Oh, fie! You make bad worse!" she

cried.

"He'll put you in the pillory of his vers

for this," laughed Collis. "Ye'll be mosscurvily lampooned for't."

"Poor Mr. Craske!" sighed the Lad

Mary again."Poor, indeed; but not in the sense to

deserve pity. An upstart impostor such a

hat to soil a lady with his criticism!"

Lady Mary's brows went up. "You use singular severity, sir," she opined, "and

hink it unwise in you to grow so hot in th

defence of a reputation whose owner ha

so little care for it herself."

Mr. Caryll looked at her out of his leve

gray-green eyes; a hot answer quivered o

his tongue, an answer that had crushed he



venom for some time and had probabl

eft him with a quarrel on his hands. Ye

his smile, as he considered her, was ver

sweet, so sweet that her ladyshipguessing nothing of the bitterness it wa

used to cover, went as near a smirk as i

was possible for one so elegant. He was

she judged, another victim ripe fommolation on the altar of he

goddessship. And Mr. Caryll, who had

aken her measure very thoroughly, seein

something of how her thoughts wer

running, bethought him of a sweete

vengeance.

"Lady Mary," he cried, a soft reproacn his voice, "I have been sore mistook i

you if you are one to be guided by th

rabble." And he waved a hand toward th

modish throng.



She knit her fine brows, bewildered.

"Ah!" he cried, interpreting her glanc

o suit his ends, "perish the thought

ndeed! I knew that I could not be wrong. knew that one so peerless in all else mus

be peerless, too, in her opinions; judgin

for herself, and standing firm upon he

udgment in disdain of meaner souls—

mere sheep to follow their bell-wether."

She opened her mouth to speak, but sai

nothing, being too intrigued by this suddeand most sweet flattery. Her mere beaut

had oft been praised, and in terms tha

glowed like fire. But what was tha

compared with this fine appreciation oher less obvious mental parts—and tha

from one who had seen the world?

Mr. Caryll was bending over her



"What a chance is here," he wa

murmuring, "to mark your lofty detachmen

—to show how utter is your indifferenc

o what the common herd may think.""As—as how?" she asked, blinking u

at him.

The others stood at gaze, scarce yesuspecting the drift of so much talk.

"There is a poor lady yonder, of whos

fair name a bubble is being blown an

pricked. I dare swear there's not a womahere durst speak to her. Yet what a chance

for one that dared! How fine a triump

would be hers!" He sighed. "Heigho!

almost wish I were a woman, that I mighmake that triumph mine and mark m

superiority to these painted dolls that hav

neither wit nor courage."



The Lady Mary rose, a faint color in he

cheeks, a sparkle in her fine eyes. A grea

oy flashed into Mr. Caryll's in quic

response; a joy in her—she thought witready vanity—and a heightenin

admiration.

"Will you make it yours, as it should b

—as it must ever be—to lead and not t

follow?" he cried, flattering incredibilit

rembling in his voice.

"And why not, sir?" she demanded, nowhoroughly aroused.

"Why not, indeed—since you are you?

quoth he. "It is what I had hoped in you

and yet—and yet what I had almost feareo hope."

She frowned upon him now, so

excellently had he done his work. "Wh



should you have feared that?"

"Alas! I am a man of little faith—

unworthy, indeed, your good opinion sinc

entertained a doubt. It was a blasphemy.

She smiled again. "You acknowledge

your faults with such a grace," said she

"that we must needs forgive them. Andnow to show you how much you nee

forgiveness. Come, children," she bad

her cousins—for whose innocence she ha

made apology but a moment back. "Youarm, Harry," she begged her brother-in

aw.

Sir Harry obeyed her readily, bu

without eagerness. In his heart he cursehis friend Caryll for having set her on t

his.

Mr. Caryll himself hung upon her othe



side, his eyes toward Lady Ostermore an

Hortensia, who, whilst being observed b

all, were being approached by few; an

hese few confined themselves to aexchange of greetings with her ladyship

which constituted a worse offence t

Mistress Winthrop than had they stayed

away.

Suddenly, as if drawn by his arden

gaze, Hortensia's eyes moved at last fro

heir forward fixity. Her glance met MrCaryll's across the intervening space

nstantly he swept off his hat, and bowe

profoundly. The action drew attention to

himself. All eyes were focussed upon himand between many a pair there was

frown for one who should dare thus to ru

counter to the general attitude.



But there was more to follow. The Lad

Mary accepted Mr. Caryll's salutation o

Hortensia as a signal. She led the wa

promptly, and the little band swepforward, straight for its goal, raked by th

volleys from a thousand eyes, under whic

he Lady Mary already began to giggl

excitedly.

Thus they reached the countess, th

countess standing very rigid in he

amazement, to receive them."I hope I see your ladyship well," sai

Lady Mary.

"I hope your ladyship does," answere

he countess tartly.

Mistress Winthrop's eyes wer

owered; her cheeks were scarlet. He

distress was plain, born of her doubt o



he Lady Mary's purpose, and suspense a

o what might follow.

"I have not the honor of your ward'

acquaintance, Lady Ostermore," said LadMary, whilst the men were bowing, and

her cousins curtseying to the countess an

her companion collectively.

The countess gasped, recovered, an

eyed the speaker without any sign o

affection. "My husband's ward, ma'am,

she corrected, in a voice that seemed tdiscourage further mention of Hortensia.

"'Tis but a distinction," put in Mr

Caryll suggestively.

"Indeed, yes. Will not your ladyship

present me?" The countess' malevolen

eyes turned a moment upon Mr. Caryll

smiling demurely at Lady Mary's elbow



n his face—as well as in the four word

he had uttered—she saw that here wa

work of his, and he gained nothing in he

favor by it. Meanwhile there were ngrounds—other than such as must hav

been wantonly offensive to the Lady Mary

and so not to be dreamed of—upon whic

o refuse her request. The countess braceherself, and with an ill grace performe

he brief ceremony of presentation.

Mistress Winthrop looked up an instanthen down again; it was a piteous, almos

a pleading glance.

Lady Mary, leaving the countess to Si

Harry Stapleton, Caryll and the othersmoved to Hortensia's side for a momen

she was at loss what to say, and took

refuge in a commonplace.



"I have long desired the pleasure o

your acquaintance," said she.

"I am honored, madam," replie

Hortensia, with downcast eyes. Theifting them with almost disconcertin

suddenness. "Your ladyship has chosen an

odd season in which to gratify this desir

with which you honor me."

Lady Mary laughed, as much at th

remark as for the benefit of those whos

eyes were upon her. She knew therwould not be wanting many who woul

condemn her; but these should be fa

outnumbered by those who would be los

n admiration of her daring, that she coulso fly in the face of public opinion; an

she was grateful to Mr. Caryll for havin

suggested to her a course of suc



distinction.

"I could have chosen no better season,

she replied, "to mark my scorn of evi

ongues and backbiters."

Color stained Hortensia's cheek again

gratitude glowed in her eyes. "You are

very noble, madam," she answered witflattering earnestness.

"La!" said the Lady Mary. "Is nobility

hen, so easily achieved?" And thereafte

hey talked of inconsequent trifles, untiMr. Caryll moved towards them, and Lady

Mary turned aside to speak to th

countess.

At Mr. Caryll's approach Hortensia'

eyes had been lowered again, and sh

made no offer to address him as he stoo

before her now, hat under arm, leanin



easily upon his amber cane.

"Oh, heart of stone!" said he at last

"Am I not yet forgiven?"

She misread his meaning—perhap

already the suspicion she now voiced ha

been in her mind. She looked up at hi

sharply. "Was it—was it you who fetchedhe Lady Mary to me?" she inquired.

"Lo!" said he. "You have a voice! Now

Heaven be praised! I was fearing it wa

ost for me—that you had made somawful vow never again to rejoice my ear

with the music of it."

"You have not answered my question,

she reminded him.

"Nor you mine," said he. "I asked yo

am I not yet forgiven."

"Forgiven what?"



"For being born an impudent, fleerin

coxcomb—twas that you called me,

hink."

She flushed deeply. "If you would wiforgiveness, you should not remind me o

he offence," she answered low.

"Nay," he rejoined, "that is to confoundforgiveness with forgetfulness. I want yo

o forgive and yet to remember."

"That were to condone."

"What else? 'Tis nothing less wilsatisfy me."

"You expect too much," she answered

with a touch that was almost of sternness.He shrugged and smiled whimsically

"It is my way," he said apologetically

"Nature has made me expectant, and life

whilst showing me the folly of it, has no



yet cured me."

She looked at him, and repeated he

earlier question. "Was it at your bidding

hat Lady Mary came to speak with me?"

"Fie!" he cried. "What insinuations d

you make against her?"

"Insinuations?""What else? That she should do thing

at my bidding!"

She smiled understanding. "You have a

alent, sir, for crooked answers."

"'Tis to conceal the rectitude of m

behavior."

"It fails of its object, then," said she"for it deludes no one." She paused an

aughed at his look of assumed blankness

"I am deeply beholden to you," sh



whispered quickly, breathing at onc

gratitude and confusion.

"Though I don't descry the cause," sai

he, "'twill be something to comfort me."

More he might have added then, for th

mad mood was upon him, awakened b

hose soft brown eyes of hers. But in thamoment the others of that little part

crowded upon them to take their leave o

Mistress Winthrop.

Mr. Caryll felt satisfied that enough hadbeen done to curb the slander concernin

Hortensia. But he was not long in learnin

how profound was his mistake. On ever

side he continued to hear her discussedand in such terms as made his ears tingl

and his hands itch to be at work in he

defence; for, with smirks and sneers and



nnuendoes, her escapade with Lor

Rotherby continued to furnish a topic fo

he town as her ladyship had sworn i

would. Yet by what right could he espousher cause with any one of her defamer

without bringing her fair name into stil

more odious notoriety?

And meanwhile he knew that he wa

under strict surveillance from Mr. Green

knew that he was watched wherever h

went; and nothing but his confidence thano evidence could be produced agains

him allowed him to remain, as he did, al

unconcerned of this.

Leduc had more than once seen MrGreen about Old Palace Yard, besides a

couple of his underlings, one or the othe

of whom was never absent from the place



no doubt with intent to observe who cam

and went at Mr. Caryll's. Once, indeed

during the absence of master and servan

Mr. Caryll's lodging was broken into, andon Leduc's return he found a confusio

which told him how thoroughly the plac

had been ransacked.

If Mr. Caryll had had anything to hide

his would have given him the hint to tak

his precautions; but as he had nothing tha

was in the least degree in incriminatinghe went his ways in supremest unconcer

of the vigilance exerted over him. H

used, however, a greater discretion in th

resorts he frequented. And if upooccasion he visited such Tory meeting

places as the Bell Tavern in King Stree

or the Cocoa-Tree in Pall Mall, he wa

still more often to be found at White's, tha



ultra-Whig resort.

It was at this latter house, one evenin

hree or four days after his meeting wit

Hortensia in the park, that the chance waafforded him at last of vindicating he

honor in a manner that need not add to th

scandal that was already abroad, no

serve to couple his name with hers unduly

And it was Lord Rotherby himself wh

afforded him the opportunity.

The thing fell out in this wise: MrCaryll was at cards with Harry Collis an

Stapleton and Major Gascoigne, in a roo

above-stairs. There were at least a doze

others present, some also at play, othermerely lounging. Of the latter was hi

Grace of Wharton. He was a slender

graceful gentleman, whose face, if slightl



effeminate and markedly dissipated, wa

nevertheless of considerable beauty. H

was very splendid in a suit of gree

camlett and silver lace, and he wore flaxen periwig without powder.

He was awaiting Rotherby, with who

—as he told the company—he was for

frolic at Drury Lane, where a ridotto wa

following the play. He spoke, as usual, i

a loud voice that all might hear, and hi

alk was loose and heavily salted abecame the talk of a rake of his exalte

rank. It was chiefly concerned with airin

his bitter grievance against Mrs

Girdlebank, of the Theatre Royal, owhom he announced himself "devilishl

enamoured."

He inveighed against her that she shoul



have the gross vulgarity to love he

husband, and against her husband that h

should have the audacity to play th

watchdog over her, and bark and growl ahe duke's approach.

"A plague on all husbands, say I,

ended the worthy president of the Bol

Bucks.

"Nay, now, but I'm a husband myself

gad!" protested Mr. Sidney, who wa

quite the most delicate, mincing man ofashion about town, and one of tha

valetaille that hovered about his Grace o

Wharton's heels.

"'Tis no matter in your case," said thduke, with that contempt he used toward

his followers. "Your wife's too ugly to be

ooked at." And Mr. Sidney's fresh protes



was drowned in the roar of laughter tha

went up to applaud that brutal frankness

Mr. Caryll turned to the fop, who

happened to be standing at his elbow."Never repine, man," said he. "In th

company you keep, such a wife makes fo

peace of mind. To have that is to have

much."

Wharton resumed his railings at th

Girdlebanks, and was still at them whe

Rotherby came in."At last, Charles!" the duke hailed him

rising. "Another minute, and I had gon

without you."

But Rotherby scarce looked at him, an

answered with unwonted shortness. Hi

eyes had discovered Mr. Caryll. It was th

first time he had run against him since tha



day, over a week ago, at Stretton House

and at sight of him now all Rotherby'

spleen was moved. He stood and stared

his dark eyes narrowing, his cheekflushing slightly under their tan. Wharton

who had approached him, observing hi

sudden halt, his sudden look o

concentration, asked him shortly whamight ail him.

"I have seen someone I did not expec

o find in a resort of gentlemen," saiRotherby, his eyes ever on Mr. Caryll

who—engrossed in his game—was al

unconscious of his lordship's advent.

Wharton followed the direction of hicompanion's gaze, and giving now

attention himself to Mr. Caryll, he fell to

appraising his genteel appearance



negligent of the insinuation in wha

Rotherby had said.

"'Sdeath!" swore the duke. "'Tis a ma

of taste—a travelled gentleman by his airBehold me the grace of that shoulder-knot

Charles, and the set of that most admirabl

coat. Fifty guineas wouldn't buy hi

Steinkirk. Who is this beau?"

"I'll present him to your grace," sai

Rotherby shortly. He had pretentions a

being a beau himself; but his grace—supreme arbiter in such matters—ha

never yet remarked it.

They moved across the room, greeting

passing as they went. At their approachMr. Caryll looked up. Rotherby made hi

a leg with an excessive show o

deference, arguing irony. "'Tis an



unlooked-for pleasure to meet you here

sir," said he in a tone that drew th

attention of all present.

"No pleasures are so sweet as thunexpected," answered Mr. Caryll, wit

casual amiability, and since he perceived

at once the errand upon which Lor

Rotherby was come to him, he went half

way to meet him. "Has your lordship bee

contracting any marriages of late?" h

nquired.The viscount smiled icily. "You have

quick wits, sir," said he, "which is as i

should be in one who lives by them."

"Let your lordship be thankful that sucs not your own case," returned Mr

Caryll, with imperturbable good humor

and sent a titter round the room.



"A hit! A shrewd hit, 'pon honor!" cried

Wharton, tapping his snuff-box. "I vow t

Gad, Ye're undone, Charles. Ye'd better

play at repartee with Gascoigne, thereYe're more of a weight."

"Your grace," cried Rotherby

suppressing at great cost his passion, "'ti

not to be borne that a fellow of thi

condition should sit among men o

quality." And with that he swung round

and addressed the company in genera"Gentlemen, do you know who this fellow

s? He has the effrontery to take my name

and call himself Caryll."

Mr. Caryll looked a moment at hibrother in the silence that followed. Then

as in a flash, he saw his chance o

vindicating Mistress Winthrop, and h



seized it.

"And do you know, gentlemen, who thi

fellow is?" he inquired, with an air of sl

amusement. "He is—Nay, you shall judgfor yourselves. You shall hear the story o

how we met; it is the story of hi

abduction of a lady whose name need no

be mentioned; the story of his dastardl

attempt to cozen her into a mock

marriage."

"Mock—mock-marriage?" cried thduke and a dozen others with him, some i

surprise, but most in an unbelief that wa

already faintly tinged with horror—whic

argued ill for my Lord Rotherby when thstory should be told.

"You damned rogue—" began hi

ordship, and would have flung himsel



upon Caryll, but that Collis and Stapleton

and Wharton himself, put forth hands t

stay him by main force.

Others, too, had risen. But Mr. Carylsat quietly in his chair, idly fingering th

cards before him, and smiling gently

between amusement and irony. He wa

much mistaken if he did not make Lor

Rotherby bitterly regret the initiative h

had taken in their quarrel.

"Gently, my lord," the duke admonishedhe viscount. "This—this gentleman ha

said that which touches your honor. H

shall say more. He shall make good hi

words, or eat them. But the matter cannorest thus."

"It shall not, by God!" swore Rotherby

purple now. "It shall not. I'll kill him lik



a dog for what he has said."

"But before I die, gentlemen," said Mr

Caryll, "it were well that you should hav

he full story of that sorry adventure froan eye-witness."

"An eye-witness? Were ye present?

cried two or three in a breath."I desire to lay before you all the stor

of how we met my lord there and I. It is s

closely enmeshed with the story of tha

abduction and mock-marriage that the ons scarce to be distinguished from th

other."

Rotherby writhed to shake off thos

who held him.

"Will ye listen to this fellow?" h

roared. "He's a spy, I tell you—a Jacobit

spy!" He was beside himself with ange



and apprehension, and he never paused t

weigh the words he uttered. It was wit

him a question of stopping his accuser'

mouth with whatever mud came under hihands. "He has no right here. It is not to b

borne. I know not by what means he ha

hrust himself among you, but—"

"That is a knowledge I can afford you

ordship," came Stapleton's steady voic

o interrupt the speaker. "Mr. Caryll i

here by my invitation.""And by mine and Gascoigne's here,

added Sir Harry Collis, "and I wil

answer for his quality to any man wh

doubts it."Rotherby glared at Mr. Caryll'

sponsors, struck dumb by this sudden an

unexpected refutation of the charge he ha



eveled.

Wharton, who had stepped aside, kni

his brows and flashed his quizzing-glas

—through sheer force of habit—upoLord Rotherby. Then:

"You'll pardon me, Harry," said he

"but you'll see, I hope, that the question inot impertinent; that I put it to the end tha

we may clearly know with whom we hav

o deal and what consideration to exten

him, what credit to attach to thcommunication he is to make us touchin

my lord here. Under what circumstance

did you become acquainted with Mr

Caryll?""I have known him these twelve years,

answered Collis promptly; "so ha

Stapleton, so has Gascoigne, so have



dozen other gentlemen who could b

produced, and who, like ourselves, wer

at Oxford with him. For myself an

Stapleton, I can say that our acquaintanc—indeed, I should say our friendship—

with Mr. Caryll has been continuous sinc

hen, and that we have visited him o

several occasions at his estate of Malignn Normandy. That he habitually inhabit

he country of his birth is the reason wh

Mr. Caryll has not hitherto had th

advantage of your grace's acquaintance

eed I say more to efface the fals

statement made by my Lord Rotherby?"

"False? Do you dare give me the liesir?" roared Rotherby.

But the duke soothed him. Under hi

profligate exterior his Grace of Wharto



concealed—indeed, wasted—a deal o

shrewdness, ability and inherent strength

"One thing at a time, my lord," said th

president of the Bold Bucks. "Let us atteno the matter of Mr. Caryll."

"Dons and the devil! Does your grac

ake sides with him?"

"I take no sides. But I owe it to mysel

—we all owe it to ourselves—that thi

matter should be cleared."

Rotherby leered at him, his lirembling with anger. "Does the presiden

of the Bold Bucks pretend to administrat

a court of honor?" he sneered heavily.

"Your lordship will gain little by this,

Wharton admonished him, so coldly tha

Rotherby belatedly came to some portio

of his senses again. The duke turned t



Caryll. "Mr. Caryll," said he, "Sir Harry

has given you very handsome credentials

which would seem to prove you worth

he hospitality of White's. You havehowever, permitted yourself certai

expressions concerning his lordship here

which we cannot allow to remain wher

you have left them. You must retract, siror make them good." His gravity, and th

preciseness of his diction now, sorted

most oddly with his foppish airs.

Mr. Caryll closed his snuff-box with

snap. A hush fell instantly upon the

company, which by now was all crowdin

about the little table at which sat MrCaryll and his three friends. A footman

who entered at the moment to snuff th

candles and see what the gentlemen migh

be requiring, was dismissed the room



When the door had closed, Mr. Caryl

began to speak.

One more attempt was made b

Rotherby to interfere, but this attempt wadisposed of by Wharton, who ha

constituted himself entirely master of th

proceedings.

"If you will not allow Mr. Caryll to

speak, we shall infer that you fear what h

may have to say; you will compel us t

hear him in your absence, and I cannohink that you would prefer that, my lord."

My lord fell silent. He was breathin

heavily, and his face was pale, his eye

angry beyond words, what time MrCaryll, in amiable, musical voice, with it

precise and at moments slightly foreig

enunciation, unfolded the shameful stor



of the affair at the "Adam and Eve," a

Maidstone. He told a plain

straightforward tale, making little attemp

o reproduce any of its color, giving hiaudience purely and simply the facts tha

had taken place. He told how he himsel

had been chosen as a witness when m

ord had heard that there was a travellefrom France in the house, and showe

how that slight circumstance had firs

awakened his suspicions of foul play. H

provoked some amusement when he deal

with his detection and exposure of th

sham parson. But in the main he was hear

with a stern and ominous attention—ominous for Lord Rotherby.

Rakes these men admittedly were wit

but few exceptions. No ordinary tale o

gallantry could have shocked them, o



provoked them to aught but

contemptuous mirth at the expense of th

victim, male or female. They would hav

hought little the worse of a man forunning off with the wife, say, of one o

his acquaintance; they would have though

nothing of his running off with a sister or

daughter—so long as it was not of theiown. All these were fair game, and if th

husband, father or brother could no

protect the wife, sister or daughter tha

was his, the more shame to him. Bu

hough they might be fair game, the gam

had its rules—anomalous as it may seem

These rules Lord Rotherby—if the talMr. Caryll told was true—had violated

He had practiced a cheat, the mor

dastardly because the poor lady who ha

so narrowly escaped being his victim ha



nether father nor brother to avenge her

And in every eye that was upon him Lor

Rotherby might have read, had he had th

wit to do so, the very sternescondemnation.

"A pretty story, as I've a soul!" was hi

grace's comment, when Mr. Caryll had

done. "A pretty story, my Lord Rotherby.

have a stomach for strong meat myself

But—odds my life!—this is to

nauseous!"Rotherby glared at him. "'Slife! you

grace is grown very nice on a sudden!" h

sneered. "The president of the Bol

Bucks, the master of the Hell Fire Club, imost oddly squeamish where th

diversions of another are concerned."

"Diversions?" said his grace, hi



eyebrows raised until they all bu

vanished under the golden curls of hi

peruke. "Diversions? Ha! I observe tha

you make no attempt to deny the storyYou admit it, then?"

There was a stir in the group, a drawin

back from his lordship. He observed i

rembling between chagrin and rage

"What's here?" he cried, and laughe

contemptuously. "Oh, ah! You'll follow

where his grace leads you! Ye'vefollowed him so long in lewdness tha

now yell follow him in conversion! But a

for you, sir," and he swung fiercely upon

Caryll, "you and your precious story—will you maintain it sword in hand?"

"I can do better," answered Mr. Caryll

"if any doubts my word."



"As how?"

"I can prove it categorically, b

witnesses."

"Well said, Caryll," Stapleton

approved him.

"And if I say that you lie—you and you

witnesses?""'T is you will be liar," said Mr. Caryll

"Besides, it is a little late for that," cu

n the duke.

"Your grace," cried Rotherby, "is thi

affair yours?"

"No, I thank Heaven!" said his grace

and sat down.

Rotherby scowled at the man who unti

en minutes ago had been his friend an

boon companion, and there was more o



contempt than anger in his eyes. He turne

again to Mr. Caryll, who was watchin

him with a gleam of amusement—tha

nfernally irritating amusement of his—ihis gray-green eyes.

"Well?" he demanded foolishly, "have

you naught to say?"

"I had thought," returned Mr. Caryll

"that I had said enough." And the duk

aughed aloud.

Rotherby's lip was curled. "Ha! Youdon't think, now, that you may have said

oo much?"

Mr. Caryll stifled a yawn. "Do you?" h

nquired blandly.

"Ay, by God! Too much for a gentleman

o leave unpunished."

"Possibly. But what gentleman i



concerned in this?"

"I am!" thundered Rotherby.

"I see. And how do you conceive tha

you answer the description?"

Rotherby swore at him with grea

choice and variety. "You shall learn," he

promised him. "My friends shall wait oyou to-night."

"I wonder who will carry hi

message?" ventured Collis to the ceiling

Rotherby turned on him, fierce as a rat. "Is a matter you may discover to your cost

Sir Harry," he snarled.

"I think," put in his grace veranguidly, "that you are troubling th

harmony that is wont to reign here."

His lordship stood still a moment

Then, quite suddenly, he snatched up



candlestick to hurl at Mr. Caryll. But h

had it wrenched from his hands ere h

could launch it.

He stood a moment, discomfitedglowering upon his brother. "My friend

shall wait on you to-night," he repeated.

"You said so before," Mr. Carylreplied wearily. "I shall endeavor to mak

hem welcome."

His lordship nodded stupidly, and

strode to the door. His departure waobserved in silence. On every face h

read his sentence. These men—rake

hough they were, professedly—woul

own him no more for their associate; anwhat these men thought to-night not

gentleman in town but would be thinkin

he same tomorrow. He had the stupidit



o lay it all to the score of Mr. Caryll, no

perceiving that he had brought it upo

himself by his own aggressiveness. H

paused, his hand upon the doorknob, anurned to loose a last shaft at them.

"As for you others, that follow you

bell-wether there," and he indicated hi

grace, whose shoulder was towards him

"this matter ends not here."

And with that general threat he passe

out, and that snug room at White's knewhim no more.

Major Gascoigne was gathering up th

cards that had been flung down when firs

he storm arose. Mr. Caryll bent to assishim. And the last voice Lord Rotherb

heard as he departed was Mr. Caryll's

and the words it uttered were: "Come



ed; the deal is with you."

His lordship swore through his teeth

and went downstairs heavily.



CHAPTER X. SPURS

TO THE

RELUCTANT

Before Mr. Caryll left White's—whic

he did at a comparatively early hour, tha

he might be at home to receive Lor

Rotherby's friends—not a man present buhad offered him his services in the affai

he had upon his hands. Wharton, indeed

was not to be denied for one; and for th

other Mr. Caryll desired Gascoigne to dohim the honor of representing him.

It was a fine, dry night, and feeling th

need for exercise, Mr. Caryll set out to



walk the short distance from St. James'

Street to his lodging, with a link-boy

preceding him, for only attendant. Arrived

home, he was met by Leduc with thnformation that Sir Richard Everard wa

awaiting him. He went in, and the nex

moment he was in the arms of his adoptiv

father.

Greetings and minor courtesie

disposed of, Sir Richard came straight t

he affair which he had at heart. "WellHow speeds the matter?"

Mr. Caryll's face became overcast. H

sat down, a thought wearily.

"So far as Lord Ostermore iconcerned, it speeds—as you would wis

t. So far as I am concerned"—he pause

and sighed—"I would that it sped not a



all, or that I was out of it."

Sir Richard looked at him wit

searching eyes. "How?" he asked. "Wha

would you have me understand?"

"That in spite of all that has been sai

between us, in spite of all the argument

you have employed, and with which oncefor a little while, you convinced me, thi

ask is loathsome to me in the last degree

Ostermore is my father, and I can't forge

t.""And your mother?" Sir Richard's ton

was sad, rather than indignant; it spoke o

a bitter disappointment, not at the events

but at this man whom he loved with all father's love.

"It were idle to go over it all again.

know everything that you would—that yo



could—say. I have said it all to mysel

again and again, in a vain endeavor t

steel myself to the business to which yo

plighted me. Had Ostermore beedifferent, perhaps it had been easier.

cannot say. As it is, I see in him a

weakling, a man of inferior intellect, wh

does not judge things as you and I judghem, whose life cannot have been guide

by the rules that serve for men of stronge

purpose."

"You find excuses for him? For hi

deed?" cried Sir Richard, and his voic

was full of horror now; he stared askanc

at his adoptive son."No, no! Oh, I don't know. On my sou

and conscience, I don't know!" cried Mr

Caryll, like one in pain. He rose an



moved restlessly about the room. "No," h

pursued more calmly, "I don't excuse him

blame him—more bitterly than you ca

hink; perhaps more bitterly even than dyou, for I have had a look into his min

and see the exact place held there by m

mother's memory. I can judge and

condemn him; but I can't execute him; can't betray him. I don't think I could do i

even if he were not my father."

He paused, and leaning his hands upohe table at which Sir Richard sat, h

faced him, and spoke in a voice of earnes

pleading. "Sir Richard, this was not th

ask to give me; or, if you had planned togive it me, you should have reared m

differently; you should not have sought t

make of me a gentleman. You have

brought me up to principles of honor, and



you ask me now to outrage them, to cas

hem off, and to become a very Judas. Is

wonderful I should rebel?"

They were hurtful words to Sir Richar—the poor fanatic whose mind was al

unsound on this one point, who had live

n contemplation of his vengeance as

fasting monk lives through Lent i

contemplation of the Easter plenty. Th

ines of sorrow deepened in his face.

"Justin," he said slowly, "you forget onhing. Honor is to be used with men o

honor; but he who allows his honor t

stand a barrier between himself and th

man who has wronged him by dishonor, ino better than a fool. You speak o

yourself; you think of yourself. And wha

of me, Justin? The things you say o



yourself apply in a like degree—nay, eve

more—to me."

"Ah, but you are not his son. Oh

believe me, I speak not hastily or lightly. have been torn this way and that in thes

past days, until at moments the burden ha

been heavier than I could bear. Once, for

ittle while, I thought I could do all an

more than you expect of me—the momen

ndeed, in which I took the first step, an

delivered him the letter. But it was moment of wild heat. I cooled, an

reflection followed, and since then

because so much was done, I have no

known an instant's peace of mind; I havendeavored to forget the position in whic

am placed; but I have failed. I canno

And if I go through with this thing, I shal

not know another hour in life that is no



poisoned by remorse."

"Remorse?" echoed Sir Richard

between consternation and anger

"Remorse?" He laughed bitterly. "Whaails thee, boy? Do you pretend that Lor

Ostermore should go unpunished? Do yo

go so far as that?"

"Not so. He has made others suffer, and

t is just—as we understand justice—tha

he should suffer in his turn. Though, whe

all is said, he is but a poor egotist, todull-witted to understand the full vilenes

of his sin. He is suffering, as it is—curse

n his son; for 'the father of a fool hath n

oy.' He hates this son of his, and his sodespises him. His wife is a shrew,

ermagant, who embitters every hour of hi

existence. Thus he drags out his life



unloving and unloved, a thing to evok

pity."

"Pity?" cried Sir Richard in a voice o

hunder. "Pity? Ha! As I've a soul, Justinhe shall be more pitiful yet ere I hav

done with him."

"Be it so, then. But—if you love me—find some other hand to do the work."

"If I love you, Justin?" echoed the other

and his voice softened, his eyes looke

reproachfully upon his adoptive child"Needs there an 'if' to that? Are you not al

have—my son, indeed?"

He held out his hands, and Justin too

hem affectionately and pressed them i

his own.

"You'll put these weak notions from

your mind, Justin, and prove worthy th



noble lady who was your mother?"

Mr. Caryll moved aside again, hangin

his head, his face pale and troubled

Where Everard's arguments must fail, hiown affection for Everard was like t

conquer him. It was very weak in him, h

old himself; but then his love for Everar

was strong, and he would fain spar

Everard the pain he knew he must b

occasioning him. Still he did battle, hi

repugnance up in arms."I would you could see the matter as

see it," he sighed. "This man grown old

and reaping in his old age the fruits of th

egotism he has sown. I do not believe than all the world there is a single sou

would weep his lordship's death—if w

except, perhaps, Mistress Winthrop."



"And do you pity him for that?" quot

Sir Richard coldly. "What right has he to

expect aught else? Who sows for himself

reaps for himself. I marvel, indeed, thahere should be even one to bewail him—

o spare him a kind thought."

"And even there," mused Mr. Caryll, "i

s perhaps gratitude rather than affectio

hat inspires the kindness."

"Who is Mistress Winthrop?"

"His ward. As sweet a lady, I think, as have ever seen," said Mr. Caryll

ncautious enthusiasm assailing him. Si

Richard's eyes narrowed.

"You have some acquaintance with

her?" he suggested.

Very briefly Mr. Caryll sketched for the

second time that evening th



circumstances of his first meeting wit

Rotherby.

Sir Richard nodded sardonically

"Hum! He is his father's son, not a doubof that. 'Twill be a most worthy successo

o my Lord Ostermore. But the lady? Tel

me of the lady. How comes she linked

with them?"

"I scarce know, save from the scrap

hat I have heard. Her father, it would

seem, was Ostermore's friend, and, dyinghe appointed Ostermore her guardian. He

fortune, I take it, is very slender

evertheless, Ostermore, whatever h

may have done by other people, appearn this case to have discharged his trus

with zeal and with affection. But, indeed

who could have done other where tha



sweet lady was concerned? You should

see her, Sir Richard!" He was pacing th

room now as he spoke, and as he spoke h

warmed to his subject more and more"She is middling tall, of a most daint

slenderness, dark-haired, with a so swee

and saintly beauty of face that it must b

seen to be believed. And eyes—Lord! thglory of her eyes! They are eyes tha

would lead a man into hell and make hi

believe it heaven,

"'Love doth to her eyes repair

To help him of his blindness.'

Sir Richard watched him, displeasur

growing in his face. "So!" he said at last

"Is that the reason?"

"The reason of what?" quoth Mr

Caryll, recalled from his sweet rapture.

"The reason of these fresh qualms o



yours. The reason of all this sympathy fo

Ostermore; this unwillingness to perfor

he sacred duty that is yours."

"Nay—on my soul, you do me wrong!cried Mr. Caryll indignantly. "If aught had

been needed to spur me on, it had been m

meeting with this lady. It needed that to

make me realize to the bitter full th

wrong my Lord Ostermore has done me i

getting me; to make me realize that I am

man without a name to offer any woman."But Sir Richard, watching him intently

shook his head and fetched a sigh o

sorrow and disdain. "Pshaw, Justin! How

we befool ourselves! You think it is noso; you try to think it is not so; but to me i

s very plain. A woman has arisen in you

ife, and this woman, seen but once o



wice, unknown a week or so ago, suffice

o eclipse the memory of your mother an

urns your aim in life—the avenging of he

bitter wrongs—to water. Oh, JustinJustin! I had thought you stronger."

"Your conclusions are all wrong.

swear they are wrong!"

Sir Richard considered him sombrely

"Are you sure—quite, quite sure?"

Mr. Caryll's eyes fell, as the doubt now

entered his mind for the first time that imight be indeed as Sir Richard wa

suggesting. He was not quite sure.

"Prove it to me, Justin," Everar

pleaded. "Prove it by abandoning thi

weakness where my Lord Ostermore i

concerned. Remember only the wrong h

has done. You are the incarnation of tha



wrong, and by your hand must he b

destroyed." He rose, and caught th

younger man's hands again in his own

forced Mr. Caryll to confront him. "Hshall know when the time comes whos

hand it was that pulled him down; he shal

know the Nemesis that has lain in wait fo

him these thirty years to smite him at thend. And he shall taste hell in this world

before he goes to it in the next. It is God'

own justice, boy! Will you be false to th

duty that lies before you? Will you forge

your mother and her sufferings becaus

you have looked into the eyes of this girl

who—""No, no! Say no more!" cried Mr

Caryll, his voice trembling.

"You will do it," said Sir Richard



between question and assertion.

"If Heaven lends me strength o

purpose. But it asks much," was th

gloomy answer. "I am to see LordOstermore to-morrow to obtain hi

answer to King James' letter."

Sir Richard's eyes gleamed. Hreleased the other's hands, and turne

slowly to his chair again. "It is well," h

said slowly. "The thing asks dispatch, o

else some of his majesty's real friendmay be involved."

He proceeded to explain his words. "

have talked in vain with Atterbury. He

will not abandon the enterprise even aKing James' commands. He urges that hi

majesty can have no conception of how

he matter is advanced; that he has bee



aboring like Hercules, and that the part

s being swelled by men of weight an

substance every day; that it is too late t

go back, and that he will go forward withe king's consent or without it. Should h

or his agents approach Ostermore, in th

meantime, it will be too late for us to tak

such measures as we have concerted. Foo deliver up Ostermore then would entai

he betrayal of others, which is not to b

dreamt of. So you'll use dispatch."

"If I do the thing at all, it shall be don

o-morrow," answered Mr. Caryll.

"If at all?" cried Sir Richard, frownin

again. "If at all?"Caryll turned to him. He crossed to th

able, and leaning across it, until his fac

was quite close to his adoptive father's



"Sir Richard," he begged, "let us say n

more to-night. My will is all to do th

hing. It is my—my instincts that rebel.

hink that the day will be carried by mwill. I shall strive to that end, believe me

But let us say no more now."

Sir Richard, looking deep into Mr

Caryll's eyes, was touched by somethin

hat he saw. "My poor Justin!" he said

gently. Then, checking the sympathy a

swiftly as it rose: "So be it, then," he saibriskly. "You'll come to me to-morrow

after you have seen his lordship?"

"Will you not remain here?"

"You have not the room. Besides, SiRichard Everard—is too well known for

Jacobite to be observed sharing you

odging. I have no right at all in England



and there is always the chance of my bein

discovered. I would not pull you dow

with me. I am lodged at the corner o

Maiden Lane, next door to the sign oGolden Flitch. Come to me there to

morrow after you have seen Lor

Ostermore." He hesitated a moment. H

was impelled to recapitulate hinjunctions; but he forbore. He put out hi

hand abruptly. "Good-night, Justin."

Justin took the hand and pressed it. Thdoor opened, and Leduc entered.

"Captain Mainwaring and Mr. Falgat

are here, sir, and would speak with you,

he announced.Mr. Caryll knit his brows a moment

His acquaintance with both men was o

he slightest, and it was only upo



reflection that he bethought him the

would, no doubt, be come in the matter o

his affair with Rotherby, which in th

stress of his interview with Sir Richarhad been quite forgotten. He nodded.

"Wait upon Sir Richard to the door

Leduc," he bade his man. "Then introduc

hese gentlemen."

Sir Richard had drawn back a step. "

rust neither of these gentlemen know

me," he said. "I would not be seen here bany that did. It might compromise you."

But Mr. Caryll belittled Sir Richard'

fears. "Pooh! 'Tis very unlike," said he

whereupon Sir Richard, seeing no help fot, went out quickly, Leduc in attendance.

Lord Rotherby's friends in the ante

room paid little heed to him as he passe



briskly through. Surveillance came rathe

from an entirely unsuspected quarter. A

he left the house and crossed the square,

figure detached itself from the shadow ohe wall, and set out to follow. It hung i

his rear through the filthy, labyrinthin

streets which Sir Richard took to Charin

Cross, followed him along the Strand anup Bedford Street, and took note of th

house he entered at the corner of Maide

Lane.



CHAPTER XI. THE

ASSAULT-AT-ARMS

The meeting was appointed by my Lor

Rotherby for seven o'clock next morninn Lincoln's Inn Fields. It is true tha

Lincoln's Inn Fields at an early hour of th

day was accounted a convenient spot fo

he transaction of such business as this

yet, considering that it was in th

mmediate neighborhood of Stretto

House, overlooked, indeed, by thwindows of that mansion, it is not easy t

rid the mind of a suspicion that Rotherb

appointed that place of purpose set, an

with intent to mark his contempt an



defiance of his father, with whom h

supposed Mr. Caryll to be in some league

Accompanied by the Duke of Wharto

and Major Gascoigne, Mr. Caryll enteredhe enclosure promptly as seven wa

striking from St. Clement Danes. They ha

come in a coach, which they had left i

waiting at the corner of Portugal Row.

As they penetrated beyond the belt o

rees they found that they were the first i

he field, and his grace proceeded with thmajor to inspect the ground, so that tim

might be saved against the coming of th

other party.

Mr. Caryll stood apart, breathing thfreshness of the sunlit morning, bu

supremely indifferent to its glory. He wa

gloomy and preoccupied. He had slept il



hat night after his interview with Si

Richard, tormented by the odious choic

hat lay before him of either breaking wit

he adoptive father to whom he oweobedience and affection, or betraying hi

natural father whom he had every reaso

o hate, yet who remained his father. H

had been able to arrive at no solutionDuty seemed to point one way; instinct th

other. Down in his heart he felt that when

he moment came it would be the behest

of instinct that he would obey, and, in

obeying them, play false to Sir Richar

and to the memory of his mother. It wa

he only course that went with honor; anyet it was a course that must lead to

break with the one friend he had in th

world—the one man who stood to him fo

family and kin.



And now, as if that were not enough to

plague him, there was this quarrel wit

Rotherby which he had upon his hands

That, too, he had been considering durinhe wakeful hours of that summer nigh

Had he reflected he must have seen that n

other result could have followed hi

narrative at White's last night; and yet iwas a case in which reflection would no

have stayed him. Hortensia Winthrop'

fair name was to be cleansed of the smirc

hat had been cast upon it, and Justin wa

he only man in whose power it had lain t

do it. More than that—if more wer

needed—it was Rotherby himself, by hiaggressiveness, who had thrust Mr. Caryl

nto a position which almost made i

necessary for him to explain himself; an

hat he could scarcely have done by an



other than the means which he ha

adopted. Under ordinary circumstance

he matter would have troubled him not a

all; this meeting with such a man aRotherby would not have robbed him of

moment's sleep. But there came th

reflection—belatedly—that Rotherby wa

his brother, his father's son; and hexperienced just the same degree o

repugnance at the prospect of crossin

swords with him as he did at the prospec

of betraying Lord Ostermore. Sir Richar

would force upon him a parricide's task

Fate a fratricide's. Truly, he thought, i

was an enviable position, his.Pacing the turf, on which the dew stil

gleamed and sparkled diamond-like, h

pondered his course, and wondered now

at the last moment, was there no way t



avert this meeting. Could not the matter b

arranged? He was stirred out of hi

musings by Gascoigne's voice, raised t

curse the tardiness of Lord Rotherby."'Slife! Where does the fellow tarry

Was he so drunk last night that he's not ye

slept himself sober?"

"The streets are astir," put in Wharton

helping himself to snuff. And, indeed, th

cries of the morning hawkers reache

hem now from the four sides of thsquare. "If his lordship does not com

soon, I doubt if we may stay for him. We

shall have half the town for spectators."

"Who are these?" quoth Gascoignestepping aside and craning his neck to ge

a better view. "Ah! Here they come." And

he indicated a group of three that had tha



moment passed the palings.

Gascoigne and Wharton went to mee

he newcomers. Lord Rotherby wa

attended by Mainwaring, a militia captai—a great, burly, scarred bully of a man—

and a Mr. Falgate, an extravagant youn

buck of his acquaintance. An odder pair o

sponsors he could not have found had h

been at pains to choose them so.

"Adso!" swore Mr. Falgate, in hi

shrill, affected voice. "I vow 'tis a mosungenteel hour, this, for men of quality to

be abroad. I had my beauty sleep brok

nto to be here in time. Lard! I shall b

dozing all day for't!" He took off his haand delicately mopped his brow with

square of lace he called a handkerchief.

"Shall we come to business



gentlemen?" quoth Mainwaring gruffly.

"With all my heart," answered Wharton

"It is growing late."

"Late! La, my dears!" clucked Mr

Falgate in horror. "Has your grace no

been to bed yet?"

"To save time," said Gascoigne, "wehave made an inspection of the ground

and we think that under the trees yonder i

a spot not to be bettered."

Mainwaring flashed a critical anexperienced eye over the place. "The su

s—So?" he said, looking up. "Yes; i

should serve well enough, I—"

"It will not serve at all," crie

Rotherby, who stood a pace or two apart

"A little to the right, there, the turf i

better."



"But there is no protection," put in th

duke. "You will be under observation

from that side of the square, includin

Stretton House.""What odds?" quoth Rotherby. "Do

care who overlooks us?" And he laughed

unpleasantly. "Or is your grace ashamed

of being seen in your friend's company?"

Wharton looked him steadily in the fac

a moment, then turned to his lordship'

seconds. "If Mr. Caryll is of the sammind as his lordship, we had best get t

work at once," he said; and bowing t

hem, withdrew with Gascoigne.

"See to the swords, Mainwaring," saiRotherby shortly. "Here, Fanny!" This to

Falgate, whose name was Francis, an

who delighted in the feminine diminutiv



which his intimates used toward him

"Come help me with my clothes."

"I vow to Gad," protested Mr. Falgate

advancing to the task. "I make but andifferent valet, my dear."

Mr. Caryll stood thoughtful a momen

when Rotherby's wishes had been madknown to him. The odd irony of th

situation—the key to which he was th

only one to hold—was borne in upon him

He fetched a sigh of utter weariness."I have," said he, "the greates

repugnance to meeting his lordship."

"'Tis little wonder," returned his grace

contemptuously. "But since 'tis forced

upon you, I hope you'll give him the lesso

n manners that he needs."

"Is it—is it unavoidable?" quoth Mr



Caryll.

"Unavoidable?" Wharton looked at hi

n stern wonder.

Gascoigne, too, swung round to stare

"Unavoidable? What can you mean

Caryll?"

"I mean is the matter not to be arrangen any way? Must the duel take place?"

His Grace of Wharton stroked his chi

contemplatively, his eye ironical, his lip

curling never so slightly. "Why," said heat length, "you may beg my Lor

Rotherby's pardon for having given hi

he lie. You may retract, and brand

yourself a liar and your version of th

Maidstone affair a silly invention whic

ye have not the courage to maintain. You

may do that, Mr. Caryll. For my own sake



et me add, I hope you will not do it."

"I am not thinking of your grace at all,

said Mr. Caryll, slightly piqued by th

one the other took with him. "But trelieve your mind of such doubts as I se

you entertain, I can assure you that it is ou

of no motives of weakness that I boggle a

his combat. Though I confess that I am n

ferrailleur, and that I abhor the duel as

means of settling a difference just as

abhor all things that are stupid annsensate, yet I am not the man to shirk a

encounter where an encounter is force

upon me. But in this affair—" he paused

hen ended—"there is more than meetyour grace's eye, or, indeed, anyone's."

He was so calm, so master of himself

hat Wharton perceived how groundles



must have been his first notion. Whateve

might be Mr. Caryll's motives, it wa

plain from his most perfect composure tha

hey were not motives of fear. His grace'half-contemptuous smile was dissipated.

"This is mere trifling, Mr. Caryll," h

reminded his principal, "and time i

speeding. Your withdrawal now would

not only be damaging to yourself; it woul

be damaging to the lady of whose fai

name you have made yourself thchampion. You must see that it is too late

for doubts on the score of this meeting."

"Ay—by God!" swore Gascoigne hotly

"What a pox ails you, Caryll?"Mr. Caryll took off his hat and flung i

on the ground behind him. "We must go

on, then," said he. "Gascoigne, see to th



swords with his lordship's friend there."

With a relieved look, the major wen

forward to make the final preparations

whilst Mr. Caryll, attended by Whartonrapidly divested himself of coat an

waistcoat, then kicked off his light shoes

and stood ready, a slight, lithe, gracefu

figure in white Holland shirt and pearl

colored small clothes.

A moment later the adversaries wer

face to face—Rotherby, divested of hiwig and with a kerchief bound about hi

close-cropped head, all a tremblin

eagerness; Mr. Caryll with a reluctanc

ightly masked by a dangerous composureThere was a perfunctory salute—a mer

presenting of arms—and the blades swep

round in a half-circle to their first meeting



But Rotherby, without so much a

allowing his steel to touch his opponent's

as the laws of courtesy demanded, swirle

t away again into the higher lines anunged. It was almost like a foul attempt t

ake his adversary unawares an

unprepared, and for a second it looked a

f it must succeed. It must have succeedebut for the miraculous quickness of Mr

Caryll. Swinging round on the ball of hi

right foot, lightly and gracefully as

dancing master, and with no sign of hast

or fear in his amazing speed, he let th

other's hard-driven blade glance past him

o meet nothing but the empty air.As a result, by the very force of th

stroke, Rotherby found himself over

reached and carried beyond his point o

aim; while Mr. Caryll's sideward



movement brought him not only nearer hi

opponent, but entirely within his guard.

It was seen by them all, and by non

with such panic as Rotherby himself, thatas a consequence of his quasi-foul stroke

he viscount was thrown entirely at th

mercy of his opponent thus at the ver

outset of the encounter, before their blade

had so much as touched each other. A

straightening of the arm on the part of Mr

Caryll, and the engagement would havbeen at an end.

Mr. Caryll, however, did not straighten

his arm. He was observed to smile as h

broke ground and waited for his lordshio recover.

Falgate turned pale. Mainwaring swor

softly under his breath, in fear for hi



principal; Gascoigne did the same i

vexation at the opportunity Mr. Caryll had

so wantonly wasted. Wharton looked o

with tight-pressed lips, and wondered.Rotherby recovered, and for a momen

he two men stood apart, seeming to fee

each other with their eyes befor

resuming. Then his lordship renewed th

attack with vigor.

Mr. Caryll parried lightly and closely

plying a beautiful weapon in the besmanner of the French school, an

opposing to the ponderous force of hi

antagonist a delicate frustrating science

Rotherby, a fine swordsman in his waysoon saw that here was need for all hi

skill, and he exerted it. But the prodigiou

rapidity of his blade broke as upon



cuirass against the other's light

mpenetrable guard.

His lordship broke ground, breathe

heavily, and sweated under the glare ohe morning sun, cursing this swordsma

who, so cool and deliberate, husbande

his strength and scarcely seemed to move

yet by sheer skill and address more tha

neutralized his lordship's advantages o

greater strength and length of reach.

"You cursed French dog!" swore theviscount presently, between his teeth, and

as he spoke he made a ringing parade

feinted, beat the ground with his foot t

draw off the other's attention, and went iagain with a full-length lunge. "Parry that

you damned maitre-d'armes" he roared.

Mr. Caryll answered nothing; h



parried; parried again; delivered a ripost

whenever the opportunity offered, o

whenever his lordship grew too pressing

and it became expedient to drive hiback; but never once did he stretch out t

unge in his turn. The seconds were so los

n wonder at the beauty of this close pla

of his that they paid no heed to what waaking place in the square about them

They never observed the openin

windows and the spectators gathering a

hem—as Wharton had feared. Amongs

hese, had either of the combatants looke

up, he would have seen his own father o

he balcony of Stretton House. A momenhe earl stood there, Lady Ostermore at hi

side; then he vanished into the hous

again, to reappear almost at once in th

street, with a couple of footmen hurryin



after him.

Meanwhile the combat went on. Onc

Lord Rotherby had attempted to fall bac

for a respite, realizing that he wawinded. But Mr. Caryll denied him this

attacking now for the first time, and th

rapidity of his play was such tha

Rotherby opined—the end to be at hand

appreciated to the full his peril. In a las

desperate effort, gathering up what shred

of strength remained him, he repulsed MrCaryll by a vigorous counter attack. H

saw an opening, feinted to enlarge it, an

drove in quickly, throwing his last ounc

of strength into the effort. This time icould not be said to have been parried

Something else happened. His blade

coming foible on forte against Mr

Caryll's, was suddenly enveloped. It wa



as if a tentacle had been thrust out to seiz

t. For the barest fraction of a second wa

t held so by Mr. Caryll's sword; then

easily but irresistibly, it was lifted out oRotherby's hand, and dropped on the turf

half-yard or so from his lordship'

stockinged feet.

A cold sweat of terror broke upon him

He caught his breath with a half

shuddering sob of fear, his eyes dilatin

wildly—for Mr. Caryll's point wacoming straight as an arrow at his throat

On it came and on, until it was withi

perhaps three inches of the flesh.

There it was suddenly arrested, and foa long moment it was held there poised

death itself, menacing and imminent. And

Lord Rotherby, not daring to move, rooted



where he stood, looked with fascinate

eyes along that shimmering blade into tw

gleaming eyes behind it that seemed t

watch him with a solemnity that was grio the point of mockery.

Time and the world stood still, or wer

annihilated in that moment for the ma

who waited.

High in the blue overhead a lark wa

pouring out its song; but his lordship hear

t not. He heard nothing, he was consciouof nothing but that gleaming sword an

hose gleaming eyes behind it.

Then a voice—the voice of hi

antagonist—broke the silence. "Is morneeded?" it asked, and without waiting fo

a reply, Mr. Caryll lowered his blade and

drew himself upright. "Let this suffice," h



said. "To take your life would be to

deprive you of the means of profiting b

his lesson."

It seemed to Rotherby as if he werawaking from a trance. The worl

resumed its way. He breathed again, and

straightened himself, too, from th

arrested attitude of his last lunge. Rag

welled up from his black soul; a crimso

flood swept into his pallid cheeks; hi

eyes rolled and blazed with the fury of thmad.

Mr. Caryll moved away. In that quie

voice of his: "Take up your sword," he

said to the vanquished, over his shoulder.Wharton and Gascoigne moved toward

him, without words to express th

amazement that still held Rotherby glare



an instant longer without moving. Then

doing as Mr. Caryll had bidden him, h

stooped to recover his blade. A momen

he held it, looking after his departinadversary; then with swift, silent stealt

he sprang to follow. His fell intent wa

written on his face.

Falgate gasped—a helpless fool—

while Mainwaring hurled himself forwar

o prevent the thing he saw impended. Too

ate. Even as he flung out his hands tgrapple with his lordship, Rotherby's ar

drove straight before him and sent hi

sword through the undefended back of Mr

Caryll.All that Mr. Caryll realized at first wa

hat he had been struck a blow betwee

he shoulder blades; and then, ere he coul



urn to inquire into the cause, he wa

amazed to see some three inches of stee

come through his shirt in front. The nex

nstant an exquisite, burning, searing paiwent through and through him as the blad

was being withdrawn. He coughed an

swayed, then hurtled sideways into th

arms of Major Gascoigne. His senseswam. The turf heaved and rolled as if a

earthquake moved it; the houses frontin

he square and the trees immediatel

before him leaped and danced as i

suddenly launched into grotesqu

animation, while about him swirled

wild, incoherent noise of voices, risinand falling, now loud, now silent, an

reaching him through a murmuring hu

hat surged about his ears until it shut ou

all else and consciousness deserted him.



Around him, meanwhile, a wild scen

was toward.

His Grace of Wharton had wrenche

away the sword from Rotherby, andmastered by an effort his own impulse t

use it upon the murderer. Captai

Mainwaring—Rotherby's own second,

man of quick, fierce passions—utterl

unable to control himself, fell upon hi

ordship and beat him to the ground wit

his hands, cursing him and heaping abusupon him with every blow; whilst delicat

Mr. Falgate, in the background, sick to th

point of faintness, stood dabbing his lip

with his handkerchief and swearing that hwould rot before he allowed himself agai

o be dragged into an affair of honor.

"Ye damned cutthroat!" swore the



militia captain, standing over the man h

had felled. "D'ye know what'll be th

fruits of this? Ye'll swing at Tyburn like

he dirty thief y' are. God help me! I'd giva hundred guineas sooner than be mixed i

his filthy business."

"'Tis no matter for that now," said the

duke, touching him on the shoulder an

drawing him away from his lordship. "Ge

up, Rotherby."

Heavily, mechanically, Rotherby got tohis feet. Now that the fit of rage was over

he was himself all stricken at the thing h

had done. He looked at the limp figure o

he turf, huddled against the knee of MajoGascoigne; looked at the white face, th

closed eyes and the stain of blood oozin

farther and farther across the Hollan



shirt, and, as white himself as the stricke

man, he shuddered and his mouth wa

drawn wide with horror.

But pitiful though he looked, he inspireno pity in the Duke of Wharton, wh

considered him with an eye o

unspeakable severity. "If Mr. Caryll dies,

said he coldly, "I shall see to it that yo

hang, my lord. I'll not rest until I bring yo

o the gallows."

And then, before more could be saidhere came a sound of running steps an

abored breathing, and his grace swor

softly to himself as he beheld no other tha

Lord Ostermore advancing rapidly, all ouof breath and apoplectic of face, a coupl

of footmen pressing close upon his heels

and, behind these, a score of sightseer



who had followed them.

"What's here?" cried the earl, withou

glancing at his son. "Is he dead? Is h

dead?"

Gascoigne, who was busil

endeavoring to stanch the bleeding

answered without looking up: "It is iGod's hands. I think he is very like to die.

Ostermore swung round upon Rotherby

He had paled suddenly, and his mout

rembled. He raised his clenched handand it seemed that he was about to strik

his son; then he let it fall again. "You

villain!" he panted, breathless fro

running and from rage. "I saw it! I saw iall. It was murder, and, as God's my life

f Mr. Caryll dies, I shall see to it that you

hang—I, your own father."



Thus assailed on every side, some o

he cowering, shrinking manner left th

viscount. His antagonism to his fathe

spurred him to a prouder carriage. Hshrugged indifferently. "So be it," he said

"I have been told that already. I don

greatly care."

Mainwaring, who had been stoopin

over Mr. Caryll, and who had perhap

more knowledge of wounds than an

present, shook his head ominously."'Twould be dangerous to move him

far," said he. "'Twill increase the

hemorrhage."

"My men shall carry him across tStretton House," said Lord Ostermore

"Lend a hand here, you gaping oafs."

The footmen advanced. The crowd



which was growing rapidly and wa

watching almost in silence, awed, presse

as close as it dared upon these gentlemen

Mainwaring procured a couple of cloakand improvised a stretcher with them. O

his he took one corner himself, Gascoign

another, and the footmen the remainin

wo. Thus, as gently as might be, they borhe wounded man from the enclosure

hrough the crowd that had by now

assembled in the street, and over th

hreshold of Stretton House.

A groom had been dispatched for

doctor, and his Grace of Wharton had

compelled Rotherby to accompany thento his father's house, sternly threatenin

o hand him over to a constable at once i

he refused.



Within the cool hall of Stretton Hous

hey were met by her ladyship an

Mistress Winthrop, both pale, but the eye

of each wearing a vastly differenexpression.

"What's this?" demanded her ladyship

as they trooped in. "Why do you bring hi

here?"

"Because, madam," answere

Ostermore in a voice as hard as iron, "i

mports to save his life; for if he diesyour son dies as surely—and on th

scaffold."

Her ladyship staggered and flung a han

o her breast. But her recovery was almosmmediate. "'Twas a duel—" she began

stoutly.

"'Twas murder," his lordship corrected



nterrupting—"murder, as any of thes

gentlemen can and will bear witness

Rotherby ran Mr. Caryll through the bac

after Mr. Caryll had spared his life.""'Tis a lie!" screamed her ladyship, he

ips ashen. She turned to Rotherby, who

stood there in shirt and breeches an

shoeless, as he had fought. "Why don't yo

say that it is a lie?" she demanded.

Rotherby endeavored to master himself

"Madam," he said, "here is no place foyou."

"But is it true? Is it true what is bein

said?"

He half-turned from her, with

despairing movement, and caught th

sharp hiss of her indrawn breath. Then sh

swept past him to the side of the wounde



man, who had been laid on a settle. "Wha

s his hurt?" she inquired wildly, lookin

about her. But no one spoke. Tragedy—

more far than the tragedy of that man'possible death—was in the air, and struc

hem all silent. "Will no one answer me?

she insisted. "Is it mortal? Is it?"

His Grace of Wharton turned to he

with an unusual gravity in his blue eyes

"We hope not, ma'am," he said. "But it i

as God wills."Her limbs seemed to fail her, and sh

sank down on her knees beside the settle

"We must save him," she muttered

fearfully. "We must save his life. Where ihe doctor? He won't die! Oh, he must no

die!"

They stood grouped about, looking o



n silence, Rotherby in the background

Behind him again, on the topmost of th

hree steps that led up into the inner hal

stood Mistress Winthrop, white of face, wild horror in the eyes she riveted upo

he wounded and unconscious man. Sh

realized that he was like to die. There wa

an infinite pity in her soul—and, maybesomething more. Her impulse was to go t

him; her every instinct urged her. But he

reason held her back.

Then, as she looked, she saw with

feeling almost of terror that his eyes wer

suddenly wide open.

"Wha—what?" came in feeble accentfrom his lips.

There was a stir about him.

"Never move, Justin," said Gascoigne



who stood by his head. "You are hurt. Lie

still. The doctor has been summoned."

"Ah!" It was a sigh. The wounded ma

closed his eyes a moment, then re-openehem. "I remember. I remember," he said

feebly. "It is—it is grave?" he inquired. "I

went right through me. I remember!" H

surveyed himself. "There's been a deal o

blood lost. I am like to die, I take it."

"Nay, sir, we hope not—we hope not!

t was the countess who spoke.A wry smile twisted his lips. "Your

adyship is very good," said he. "I had no

hought you quite so much my well

wisher. I—I have done you a wrongmadam." He paused for breath, and it wa

not plain whether he spoke in sincerity o

n sarcasm. Then with a startlin



suddenness he broke into a soft laugh an

o those risen, who could not think wha

had occasioned it, it sounded mor

dreadful than any plaint he could havuttered.

He had bethought him that there was n

onger the need for him to come to

decision in the matter that had brought hi

o England, and his laugh was almost o

relief. The riddle he could never hav

solved for himself in a manner that had noshattered his future peace of mind, wa

solved and well solved if this were death

"Where—where is Rotherby?" h

nquired presently.There was a stir, and men drew back

eaving an open lane to the place wher

Rotherby stood. Mr. Caryll saw him, and



smiled, and his smile held no tinge o

mockery. "You are the best friend I eve

had, Rotherby," he startled all by saying

"Let him approach," he begged.Rotherby came forward like one wh

walks in his sleep. "I am sorry," he said

hickly, "cursed sorry."

"There's scarce the need," said Mr

Caryll. "Lift me up, Tom," he begged

Gascoigne. "There's scarce the need. You

have cleared up something that waplaguing me, my lord. I am your debtor fo

—for that. It disposes of something I coul

never have disposed of had I lived." H

urned to the Duke of Wharton. "It was aaccident," he said significantly. "You al

saw that it was an accident."

A denial rang out. "It was no accident!



cried Lord Ostermore, and swore an oath

"We all saw what it was."

"I'faith, then, your eyes deceived you. I

was an accident, I say—and who shoulknow better than I?" He was smiling i

hat whimsical enigmatic way of his

Smiling still he sank back int

Gascoigne's arms.

"You are talking too much," said the

Major.

"What odds? I am not like to talk muconger."

The door opened to admit a gentlema

n black, wearing a grizzle wig an

carrying a gold-headed cane. Men move

aside to allow him to approach Mr

Caryll. The latter, not noticing him, had

met at last the gaze of Hortensia's eyes. H



continued to smile, but his smile was now

changed to wistfulness under that pitifu

regard of hers.

"It is better so," he was saying. "Betteso!"

His glance was upon her, and sh

understood what none other thersuspected—that those words were for he

alone.

He closed his eyes and swooned again

as the doctor stooped to remove themporary bandages from his wound.

Hortensia, a sob beating in her throat

urned and fled to her own room.



CHAPTER XII.

SUNSHINE AND

SHADOW

Mr. Caryll was almost happy

He reclined on a long chair, supported

by pillows cunningly set for him by th

deft hands of Leduc, and took his ease an

ndulged his day-dreams in Lor

Ostermore's garden. He sat within thcool, fragrant shade of a privet arbor

nterlaced with flowering lilac an

aburnum, and he looked out upon the lon

sweep of emerald lawn and the little patc



of ornamental water where the water

ilies gaped their ivory chalices to th

morning sun.

He looked thinner, paler and more fraihan was his habit, which is no

wonderful, considering that he had bee

four weeks abed while his wound wa

mending. He was dressed, again by th

hands of the incomparable Leduc, in

deshabille of some artistry. A dark-blue

dressing-gown of flowered satin fell opeat the waist; disclosing sky-blue breeche

and pearl-colored stockings, elegant shoe

of Spanish leather with red heels an

diamond buckles. His chestnut hair habeen dressed with as great care as thoug

he were attending a levee, and Leduc ha

nsisted upon placing a small round patc

under his left eye, that it might—sai



Leduc—impart vivacity to a countenanc

hat looked over-wan from his lon

confinement.

He reclined there, and, as I have saidwas almost happy.

The creature of sunshine that wa

himself at heart, had broken through thheavy clouds that had been obscuring him

An oppressive burden was lifted from hi

mind and conscience. That sword-thrus

hrough the back a month ago had beeguided, he opined, by the hand of

befriending Providence; for although h

had, as you see, survived it, it had non

he less solved for him that hatefuproblem he could never have solved fo

himself, that problem whose solution,—n

matter which alternative he had adopted—



must have brought him untold miser

afterwards.

As it was, during the weeks that he ha

ain helpless, his life attached to him bbut the merest thread, the chance o

betraying Lord Ostermore was gone, no

—the circumstances being such as the

were—could Sir Richard Everard blam

him that he had let it pass.

Thus he knew peace; knew it as onl

hose know it who have sustained unresand can appreciate relief from it.

Nature had made him a voluptuary, and

reclining there in an ease which th

anguor born of his long illness renderehe more delicious, inhaling the tepi

summer air that came to him laden with

most sweet attar from the flowering rose



garden, he realized that with all its care

ife may be sweet to live in youth and i

he month of June.

He sighed, and smiled pensively at thwater-lilies; nor was his happines

entirely and solely the essence of hi

material ease. This was his third mornin

out of doors, and on each of the tw

mornings that were gone Hortensia ha

borne him company, coming with th

charitable intent of lightening his tediuby reading to him, but remaining to tal

nstead.

The most perfect friendliness ha

prevailed between them; a camaraderiwhich Mr. Caryll had been careful not to

dispel by any return to such speeches a

hose which had originally offended bu



which seemed now mercifully forgotten.

He was awaiting her, and hi

expectancy heightened for him the glory o

he morning, increased the meed ohappiness that was his. But there wa

more besides. Leduc, who stood slightl

behind him, fussily, busy about a littl

able on which were books and cordials

flowers and comfits, a pipe and

obacco-jar, had just informed him for th

first time that during the more dangerouperiod of his illness Mistress Winthrop

had watched by his bedside for man

hours together upon many occasions, an

once—on the day after he had beewounded, and while his fever was at it

height—Leduc, entering suddenly an

quietly, had surprised her in tears.



All this was most sweet news to Mr

Caryll. He found that between himself an

his half-brother there lay an even deepe

debt than he had at first supposed, analready acknowledged. In the deliciou

contemplation of Hortensia in tears besid

him stricken all but to the point of death

he forgot entirely his erstwhile scruplehat being nameless he had no name t

offer her. In imagination he conjured up

he scene. It made, he found, a very prett

picture. He would smoke upon it.

"Leduc, if you were to fill me a pipe o

Spanish—"

"Monsieur has smoked one pipalready," Leduc reminded him.

"You are inconsequent, Leduc. It is a

sign of advancing age. Repress it. Th



pipe!" And he flicked impatient fingers.

"Monsieur is forgetting that the docto

—"

"The devil take the doctor," said Mr

Caryll with finality.

"Parfaitement!" answered the smoot

Leduc. "Over the bridge we laugh at thsaint. Now that we are cured, the devi

ake the doctor by all means."

A ripple of laughter came to applaud

Leduc's excursion into irony. The arbohad another, narrower entrance, on th

eft. Hortensia had approached this, al

unheard on the soft turf, and stood ther

now, a heavenly apparition in whit

flimsy garments, head slightly a-tilt, eye

mocking, lips laughing, a heavy curl of he

dark hair falling caressingly into th



hollow where white neck sprang fro

whiter shoulder.

"You make too rapid a recovery, sir,"

said she.

"It comes of learning how well I hav

been nursed," he answered, making shift t

rise, and he laughed inwardly to see thred flush of confusion spread over th

milk-white skin, the reproachful shaft he

eyes let loose upon Leduc.

She came forward swiftly to check hirising; but he was already on his feet

proud of his return to strength, vain t

display it. "Nay," she reproved him. "I

you are so headstrong, I shall leave you."

"If you do, ma'am. I vow here, as I am,

hope, a gentleman, that I shall go home to

day, and on foot."



"You would kill yourself," she told him

"I might kill myself for less, and yet b

ustified."

She looked her despair of him. "Wha

must I do to make you reasonable?"

"Set me the example by bein

reasonable yourself, and let there be nmore of this wild talk of leaving me th

very moment you are come. Leduc, a chai

for Mistress Winthrop!" he commanded

as though chairs abounded in a gardenook. But Leduc, the diplomat, ha

effaced himself.

She laughed at his grand air, and

herself, drew forward the stool that ha

been Leduc's, and sat down. Satisfied, Mr

Caryll made her a bow, and seated

himself sideways on his long chair, so tha



he faced her. She begged that he would

dispose himself more comfortably; but h

scorned the very notion.

"Unaided I walked here from thhouse," he informed her with a boastfu

air. "I had need to begin to feel my fee

again. You are pampering me here, and to

pamper an invalid is bad; it keeps him a

nvalid. Now I am an invalid no longer."

"But the doctor—" she began.

"The doctor, ma'am, is disposed oalready," he assured her. "Very definitely

disposed of. Ask Leduc. He will tell you.

"Not a doubt of that," she answered

"Leduc talks too much."

"You have a spite against him for the

nformation he gave me on the score o

how and by whom I was nursed. So hav



. Because he did not tell me before, an

because when he told me he would not tel

me enough. He has no eyes, this Leduc. H

s a dolt, who only sees the half of whahappens, and only remembers the half o

what he has seen."

"I am sure of it," said she.

He looked surprised an instant. Then h

aughed. "I am glad that we agree."

"But you have yet to learn the cause

Had this Leduc used his eyes or his ears tbetter purpose, he had been able to tel

you something of the extent to which I a

n your debt."

"Ah?" said he, mystified. Then: "Th

news will be none the less welcome fro

your lips, ma'am," said he. "Is it that yo

are interested in the ravings of delirium



and welcomed the opportunity o

observing them at first hand? I hope

raved engagingly, if so be that I did rave

Would it, perchance, be of a lady that alked in my fevered wanderings?—of

ady pale as a lenten rose, with soft brow

eyes, and lips that—"

"Your guesses are all wild," she

checked him. "My debt is of a more rea

kind. It concerns my—my reputation."

"Fan me, ye winds!" he ejaculated."Those fine ladies and gentlemen of th

own had made my name a by-word," sh

explained in a low, tense voice, he

eyelids lowered. "My foolishness irunning off with my Lord Rotherby—that

might at all cost escape the tyranny of m

Lady Ostermore" (Mr. Caryll's eyelid



flickered suddenly at that explanation

—"had made me a butt and a jest and a

object for slander. You remember

yourself, sir, the sneers and oglings, thstarings and simperings in the park tha

day when you made your first attempt t

champion my cause, inducing the Lad

Mary Deller to come and speak to me."

"Nay, nay—think of these things no

more. Gnats will sting; 'tis in their nature

admit 'tis very vexing at the time; but isoon wears off if the flesh they have stun

be healthy. So think no more on't."

"But you do not know what follows

Her ladyship insisted that I should drivwith her a week after your hurt, when th

doctor first proclaimed you out of danger

and while the town was still all agog wit



he affair. No doubt her ladyship though

o put a fresh and greater humiliation upo

me; you would not be present to blunt th

edge of the insult of those creaturesglances. She carried me to Vauxhall

where a fuller scope might be given to th

pursuit of my shame and mortification

nstead, what think you happened?"

"Her ladyship, I trust, wa

disappointed."

"The word is too poor to describe hecondition. She broke a fan, beat her blac

boy and dismissed a footman, that sh

might vent some of the spleen it moved i

her. Never was such respect, never suchomage shown to any woman as wa

shown to me that evening. We were all bu

mobbed by the very people who ha



earlier slighted me.

"'Twas all so mysterious that I mus

seek the explanation of it. And I had it, a

ength, from his Grace of Wharton, whwas at my side for most of the time w

walked in the gardens. I asked him frankl

o what was this change owing. And h

old me, sir."

She looked at him as though no mor

need be said. But his brows were knit

"He told you, ma'am?" he questioned. "Hold you what?"

"What you had done at White's. How t

all present and to my Lord Rotherby's ow

face you had related the true story of whabefell at Maidstone—how I had gon

hither, an innocent, foolish maid, to b

married to a villain, whom, like the sill



child I was, I thought I loved; how tha

villain, taking advantage of my innocenc

and ignorance, intended to hoodwink m

with a mock-marriage."That was the story that was on ever

ip; it had gone round the town like fire

and it says much for the town that wha

between that and the foul business of th

duel, my Lord Rotherby was receiving o

every hand the condemnation he deserves

while for me there was once more—anwith heavy interest for the lapse from it—

he respect which my indiscretion ha

forfeited, and which would hav

continued to be denied me but for younoble championing of my cause.

"That, sir, is the extent to which. I am in

your debt. Do you think it small? It is s



great that I have no words in which t

attempt to express my thanks."

Mr. Caryll looked at her a moment wit

eyes that were very bright. Then he broknto a soft laugh that had a note of slyness

"In my time," said he, "I have seen man

attempts to change an inconvenient topicSome have been artful; others artless

others utterly clumsy. But this, I think, i

he clumsiest of them all. Mistres

Winthrop, 'tis not worthy in you."She looked puzzled, intrigued by hi

mood.

"Mistress Winthrop," he resumed, wit

an entire change of voice. "To speak o

his trifle is but a subterfuge of yours t

prevent me from expressing my deep

gratitude for your care of me."



"Indeed, no—" she began.

"Indeed, yes," said he. "How can thi

compare with what you have done for me

For I have learnt how greatly it is to youyourself, that I owe my recovery—th

saving of my life."

"Ah, but that is not true. It—""Let me think so, whether it be true o

not," he implored her, eyes betwee

enderness and whimsicality intent upo

her face. "Let me believe it, for the beliehas brought me happiness—the greates

happiness, I think, that I have ever known

can know but one greater, and that—"

He broke off suddenly, and sh

observed that the hand he had stretche

out trembled a moment ere it was abruptl

owered again. It was as a man who ha



reached forth to grasp something that h

craves, and checked his desire upon

sudden thought.

She felt oddly stirred, despite herselfand oddly constrained. It may have been t

disguise this that she half turned to th

able, saying: "You were about to smoke

when I came." And she took up his pip

and tobacco—jar to offer them.

"Ah, but since you've come, I would no

dream," he said.She looked at him. The complet

change of topic permitted it. "If I desire

you so to do?" she inquired, and added: "

ove the fragrance of it."

He raised his brows. "Fragrance?

quoth he. "My Lady Ostermore has anothe

word for it." He took the pipe and jar fro



her. "'Tis no humoring, this, of a man you

magine sick—no silly chivalry of yours?

he questioned doubtfully. "Did I think that

'd never smoke another pipe again."She shook her head, and laughed at hi

solemnity. "I love the fragrance," sh

repeated.

"Ah! Why, then, I'll pleasure you," said

he, with the air of one conferring favors

and filled his pipe. Presently he spok

again in a musing tone. "In a week or so, shall be well enough to travel."

"'Tis your intent to travel?" sh

nquired.

He set down the jar, and reached for th

inderbox. "It is time I was returnin

home," he explained.

"Ah, yes. Your home is in France."



"At Maligny; the sweetest nook i

ormandy. 'Twas my mother's birthplace

and 'twas there she died."

"You have felt the loss of her, I make ndoubt."

"That might have been the case if I ha

known her," answered he. "But as it is, never did. I was but two years old—she

herself, but twenty—when she died."

He pulled at his pipe in silence

moment or two, his face overcast anhoughtful. A shallower woman would

have broken in with expressions of regret

Hortensia offered him the nobler sympath

of silence. Moreover, she had felt from hione that there was more to come; tha

what he had said was but the preface t

some story that he desired her to b



acquainted with. And presently, as she

expected, he continued.

"She died, Mistress Winthrop, of

broken heart. My father had abandoneher two years and more before she died

n those years of repining—ay, and worse

of actual want—her health was broken s

hat, poor soul, she died."

"O pitiful!" cried Hortensia, pain in he

face.

"Pitiful, indeed—the more pitiful thaher death was a source of some sligh

happiness to those who loved her; the onl

happiness they could have in her was t

know that she was at rest."

"And—and your father?"

"I am coming to him. My mother had

friend—a very noble, lofty-minde



gentleman who had loved her with a grea

and honest love before the profligate wh

was my father came forward as a suitor

Recognizing in the latter—as he thought ihis honest heart—a man in better case t

make her happy, this gentleman I speak o

went his ways. He came upon he

afterwards, broken and abandoned, and hgathered up the poor shards of he

shattered life, and sought with tender bu

unavailing hands to piece them togethe

again. And when she died he vowed to

stand my friend and to make up to me fo

he want I had of parents. 'Tis by hi

bounty that to-day I am lord of Malignhat was for generations the property o

my mother's people. 'Tis by his bounty and

oving care that I am what I am, and no

what so easily I might have become ha



he seed sown by my father been allowe

o put out shoots."

He paused, as if bethinking himself, an

ooked at her with a wistful, inquirinsmile. "But why plague you," he cried

"with this poor tale of yesterday that wil

be forgot to-morrow?"

"Nay—ah, nay," she begged, and put ou

a hand in impulsive sympathy to touch hi

own, so transparent now in its emaciation

"Tell me; tell me!"His smile softened. He sighed gentl

and continued. "This gentleman wh

adopted me lived for one single purpose

with one single aim in view—to avengmy mother, whom he had loved, upon th

man whom she had loved and who had s

ll repaid her. He reared me for tha



purpose, as much, I think, as out of an

other feeling. Thirty years have sped, an

still the hand of the avenger has not falle

upon my father. It should have fallen month ago; but I was weak; I hesitated

and then this sword-thrust put me out of al

case of doing what I had crossed fro

France to do."

She looked at him with something o

horror in her face. "Were you—were you

o have been the instrument?" shnquired. "Were you to have avenged thi

hing upon your own father?"

He nodded slowly. "'Twas to that end

hat I was reared," he answered, and puaside his pipe, which had gone out. "Th

spirit of revenge was educated into m

until I came to look upon revenge as th



best and holiest of emotions; until

believed that if I failed to wreak it I mus

be a craven and a dastard. All this seemed

so until the moment came to set my hand the task. And then—" He shrugged.

"And then?" she questioned.

"I couldn't. The full horror of it bursupon me. I saw the thing in its true an

hideous proportions, and it revolted me."

"It must have been so," she approve

him."I told my foster-father; but I met wit

neither sympathy nor understanding. H

renewed his old-time arguments, an

again he seemed to prove to me that did

fail I should be false to my duty and to m

mother's memory—a weakling, a thing o

shame."



"The monster! Oh, the monster! He is a

evil man for all that you have said of him.

"Not so. There is no nobler gentlema

n all the world. I who know him, knowhat. It is through the very nobility of it tha

his warp has come into his nature. Sane i

all things else, he is—I see it now,

understand it at last—insane on this on

subject. Much brooding has made him ma

upon this matter—a fanatic whose gospe

s Vengeance, and, like all fanatics, he iharsh and intolerant when resisted on th

point of his fanaticism. This is something

have come to realize in these past days

when I lay with naught else to do buponder.

"In all things else he sees as deep an

clear as any man; in this his vision i



distorted. He has looked at nothing els

for thirty years; can you wonder that hi

sight is blurred?"

"He is to be pitied then," she said"deeply to be pitied."

"True. And because I pitied him

because I valued his regard-howevemistaken he might be—above all else,

was hesitating again—this time betwee

my duty to myself and my duty to him.

was so hesitating—though I scarce cadoubt which had prevailed in the end—

when came this sword-thrust so ver

opportunely to put me out of case of doin

one thing or the other.""But now that you are well again?" sh

asked.

"Now that I am well again—I than



Heaven that it will be too late. Th

opportunity that was ours is lost. His—m

father should now be beyond our power."

There ensued a spell of silence. He sawith eyes averted from her face—thos

eyes which she had never known othe

han whimsical and mocking, now full o

gloom and pain—riveted upon the glare o

sunshine on the pond out yonder. A grea

sympathy welled up from her heart for thi

man whom she was still far frounderstanding, and who, nevertheless—

because of it, perhaps, for there is muc

fascination in that which puzzles—wa

already growing very dear to her. Thstory he had told her drew her infinitel

closer to him, softening her heart for hi

even more perhaps than it had alread

been softened when she had seen him—a



she had thought—upon the point of dying

A wonder flitted through her mind as to

why he had told her; then another questio

surged. She gave it tongue."You have told me so much, Mr

Caryll," she said, "that I am emboldene

o ask something more." His eyes invite

her to put her question. "Your—you

father? Was he related to Lord

Ostermore?"

Not a muscle of his face moved. "Whhat?" he asked.

"Because your name is Caryll," sai

she.

"My name?" he laughed softly an

bitterly. "My name?" He reached for a

ebony cane that stood beside his chair. "

had thought you understood." He heave



himself to his feet, and she forgot t

caution him against exertion. "I have n

right to any name," he told her. "My fathe

was a man too full of worldly affairs think of trifles. And so it befell that befor

he went his ways he forgot to marry th

poor lady who was my mother. I migh

ake what name I chose. I chose CarylBut you will understand, Mistres

Winthrop," and he looked her fully in th

face, attempting in vain to dissemble th

agony in his eyes—he who a little whil

ago had been almost happy—"that if eve

t should happen that I should come t

ove a woman who is worthy of beinoved, I who am nameless have no nam

o offer her."

Revelation illumined her mind as in

flash. She looked at him.



"Was—was that what you meant, tha

day we thought you dying, when you sai

o me—for it was to me you spoke, to m

alone—that it was better so?"He inclined his head. "That is what

meant," he answered.

Her lids drooped; her cheeks were verwhite, and he remarked the swift, agitate

surge of her bosom, the fingers that wer

plucking at one another in her lap. Withou

ooking up, she spoke again. "If you hahe love to offer, what would the res

matter? What is a name that it shoul

weigh so much?"

"Heyday!" He sighed, and smiled verwistfully. "You are young, child. In time

you will understand what place the worl

assigns to such men as I. It is a place



could ask no woman to share. Such as

am, could I speak of love to any woman?"

"Yet you spoke of love once to me," she

reminded him, scarcely above her breathand stabbed him with the recollection.

"In an hour of moonshine, an hour o

madness, when I was a reckless fool thamust give tongue to every impulse. You

reproved me then in just the terms my cas

deserved. Hortensia," he bent toward

her, leaning on his cane, "'tis very sweeand merciful in you to recall it withou

reproach. Recall it no more, save to thin

with scorn of the fleering coxcomb wh

was so lost to the respect that is due to ssweet a lady. I have told you so much o

myself to-day that you may."

"Decidedly," came a shrill, ironica



voice from the arbor's entrance, "I ma

congratulate you, sir, upon the prodigiou

strides of your recovery."

Mr. Caryll straightened himself frohis stooping posture, turned and mad

Lady Ostermore a bow, his whole manne

changed again to that which was habitua

o him. "And no less decidedly, my lady,

said he with a tight-lipped smile, "may

congratulate your ladyship's son upon tha

happy circumstance, which is—as I havearned—so greatly due to the steps you

adyship took—for which I shall be eve

grateful—to ensure that I should be mad

whole again."



CHAPTER XIII. THE

FORLORN HOPE

Her ladyship stood a moment, leanin

upon her cane, her head thrown back, hehin lip curling, and her eyes playing ove

Mr. Caryll with a look of dislike that sh

made no attempt to dissemble.

Mr. Caryll found the situation redolen

with comedy. He had a quick eye for such

matters; so quick an eye that he deplore

on the present occasion her ladyship'entire lack of a sense of humor. But fo

hat lamentable shortcoming, she migh

have enjoyed with him the grotesquenes

of her having—she, who disliked him s



exceedingly—toiled and anguished

robbed herself of sleep, and hoped an

prayed with more fervor, perhaps, tha

she had ever yet hoped and prayed foanything, that his life might be spared.

Her glance shifted presently from hi

o Hortensia, who had risen and wh

stood in deep confusion at having been s

found by her ladyship, and in deep

agitation still arising from the things h

had said and from those which he habeen hindered from adding by the comin

of the countess.

The explanations that had bee

nterrupted might never be renewed; shfelt they never would be; he woul

account that he had said enough; since h

was determined to ask for nothing. And



unless the matter were broached again

what chance had she of combatting hi

foolish scruples; for foolish she accounte

hem; they were of no weight with herunless, indeed, to heighten the war

feeling that already she had conceived fo

him.

Her ladyship moved forward a step o

wo, her fan going gently to and fro

stirring the barbs of the white plume tha

formed part of her tall head-dress."What were you doing here, child?" sh

nquired, very coldly.

Mistress Winthrop looked up—

sudden, almost scared glance it was.

"I, madam? Why—I was walking in th

garden, and seeing Mr. Caryll here, I cam

o ask him how he did; to offer to read t



him if he would have me."

"And the Maidstone matter not yet col

n its grave!" commented her ladyshi

sourly. "As I'm a woman, it is monstrous should be inflicted with the care of yo

hat have no care for yourself."

Hortensia bit her lip, controlling herselbravely, a spot of red in either cheek. Mr

Caryll came promptly to her rescue.

"Your ladyship must confess tha

Mistress Winthrop has assisted nobly ihe care of me, and so, has placed you

adyship in her debt."

"In my debt?" shrilled the countess

eyebrows aloft, head-dress nodding. "An

what of yours?"

"In my clumsy way, ma'am, I hav

already attempted to convey my thanks t



her. It might be graceful in your ladyship

o follow my example."

Mentally Mr. Caryll observed that it i

unwise to rouge so heavily as did LadOstermore when prone to anger and t

paling under it. The false color looks s

very false on such occasions.

Her ladyship struck the ground with he

cane. "For what have I to thank her, sir

Will you tell me that, you who seem so

very well informed.""Why, for her part in saving your son'

ife, ma'am, if you must have it. Heave

knows," he continued in his characteristic

half-bantering manner, under which it waso difficult to catch a glimpse of his rea

feelings, "I am not one to throw service

done in the face of folk, but here hav



Mistress Winthrop and I been doing ou

best for your son in this matter; she by s

diligently nursing me; I by responding t

her nursing—and your ladyship's—and sorecovering from my wound. I do not thin

hat your ladyship shows us a becomin

gratitude. It is but natural that we fellow

workers in your ladyship's and LorRotherby's interests, should have a wor

o say to each other on the score of thos

abors which have made us colleagues."

Her ladyship measured him with

malignant eye. "Are you quite mad, sir?

she asked him.

He shrugged and smiled. "It has beealleged against me on occasion. But I thin

t was pure spite." Then he waved hi

hand towards the long seat that stood a



he back of the arbor. "Will your ladyship

not sit? You will forgive that I urge it in

my own interest. They tell me that it is no

good for me to stand too long just yet."It was his hope that she would depart

ot so. "I cry you mercy!" said she acidly

and rustled to the bench. "Be seated

pray." She continued to watch them wit

her baleful glance. "We have heard fine

hings from you, sir, of what you have bot

done for my Lord Rotherby," she gibedmocking him with the spirit of his half

est. "Shall I tell you more precisely wha

tis he owes you?"

"Can there be more?" quoth Mr. Caryllsmiling so amiably that he must hav

disarmed a Gorgon.

Her ladyship ignored him. "He owes i



o you both that you have estranged hi

from his father, set up a breach betwee

hem that is never like to be healed. 'Ti

what he owes you.""Does he not owe it, rather, to hi

abandoned ways?" asked Hortensia, in

calm, clear voice, bravely giving back he

adyship look for look.

"Abandoned ways?" screamed th

countess. "Is't you that speak of abandone

ways, ye shameless baggage? Faith, ymay be some judge of them. Ye fooled hi

nto running off with you. 'Twas that began

all this. Just as with your airs and simpers

and prettily-played innocences you foolehis other, here, into being you

champion."

"Madam, you insult me!" Hortensia wa



on her feet, eyes flashing, cheeks aflame.

"I am witness to that," said Lor

Ostermore, coming in through the side

entrance.

Mr. Caryll was the only one who had

seen him approach. The earl's face tha

had wont to be so florid, was now paland careworn, and he seemed to have los

flesh during the past month. He turned t

her ladyship.

"Out on you!" he said testily, "to chidhe poor child so!"

"Poor child!" sneered her ladyship

eyes raised to heaven to invoke it

estimony to this absurdity. "Poor child."

"Let there be an end to it, madam," h

said with attempted sternness. "It is unjus

and unreasonable in you."



"If it were that—which it is not—i

would be but following the example tha

you set me. What are you but unreasonabl

and unjust—to treat your son as you arreating him?"

His lordship crimsoned. On the subjec

of his son he could be angry in earnest

even with her ladyship, as already w

have seen.

"I have no son," he declared, "there is

ewd, drunken, bullying profligate whbears my name, and who will be Lor

Ostermore some day. I can't strip him o

hat. But I'll strip him of all else that'

mine, God helping me. I beg, my lady, thayou'll let me hear no more of this, I beg it

Lord Rotherby leaves my house to-day—

now that Mr. Caryll is restored to health



ndeed, he has stayed longer than wa

necessary. He leaves to-day. He has my

orders, and my servants have orders to se

hat he obeys them. I do not wish to sehim again—never. Let him go, and let hi

be thankful—and be your ladyshi

hankful, too, since it seems you must hav

a kindness for him in spite of all he hadone to disgrace and discredit us—that h

goes not by way of Holborn Hill an

Tyburn."

She looked at him, very white fro

suppressed fury. "I do believe you had

been glad had it been so."

"Nay," he answered, "I had been sorrfor Mr. Caryll's sake."

"And for his own?"

"Pshaw!"



"Are you a father?" she wondere

contemptuously.

"To my eternal shame, ma'am!" he flung

back at her. He seemed, indeed, a changedman in more than body since Mr. Caryll'

duel with Lord Rotherby. "No more

ma'am—no more!" he cried, seemin

suddenly to remember the presence of Mr

Caryll, who sat languidly drawing figure

on the ground with the ferrule of his cane

He turned to ask the convalescent how hdid. Her ladyship rose to withdraw, and a

hat moment Leduc made his appearanc

with a salver, on which was a bowl o

soup, a flask of Hock, and a letter. Settinhis down in such a manner that the lette

was immediately under his master's eyes

he further proceeded to draw Mr. Caryll'

attention to it. It was addressed in Si



Richard Everard's hand. Mr. Caryll too

t, and slipped it into his pocket. He

adyship's eyebrows went up.

"Will you not read your letter, MrCaryll?" she invited him, with a

amazingly sudden change to amiability.

"It will keep, ma'am, to while away ahour that is less pleasantly engaged." And

he took the napkin Leduc was proffering.

"You pay your correspondent a poo

compliment," said she."My correspondent is not one to loo

for them or need them," he answere

ightly, and dipped his spoon in the broth.

"Is she not?" quoth her ladyship.

Mr. Caryll laughed. "So feminine!" said

he. "Ha, ha! So very feminine—to assum

he sex so readily."



"'Tis an easy assumption when th

superscription is writ in a woman's hand.

Mr. Caryll, the picture of amiability

smiled between spoonfuls. "Youadyship's eyes preserve not only thei

beauty but a keenness beyond belief."

"How could you have seen it from thadistance, Sylvia?" inquired his practica

ordship.

"Then again," said her ladyship

gnoring both remarks, "there is thassiduity of this fair writer since Mr

Caryll has been in case to receive letters

Five billets in six days! Deny it if you can

Mr. Caryll."

Her playfulness, so ill-assumed, sa

more awkwardly upon her than her usua

and more overt malice towards him.



"To what end should I deny it?" he

replied, and added in his most ingratiatin

manner another of his two-edge

compliments. "Your ladyship is the modechatelaine. No happening in you

household can escape your knowledge

His lordship is greatly to be envied."

"Yet, you see," she cried, appealing to

her husband, and even to Hortensia, wh

sat apart, scarce heeding this trivial matte

of which so much was being made, "yosee that he evades the point, avoids

direct answer to the question that i

raised."

"Since your ladyship perceives it, iwere more merciful to spare my inventio

he labor of fashioning further subterfuges

am a sick man still, and my wits are fa



from brisk." He took up the glass of win

Leduc had poured for him.

The countess looked at him agai

hrough narrowing eyelids, the playfulnesall vanished. "You do yourself injustice

sir, as I am a woman. Your wits wan

nothing more in briskness." She rose, an

ooked down upon him engrossed in hi

broth. "For a dissembler, sir," she

pronounced upon him acidly, "I think i

would be difficult to meet your match."He dropped his spoon into the bow

with a clatter. He looked up, the ver

picture of amazement and consternation.

"A dissembler, I?" quoth he in earnesprotest; then laughed and quoted, adapting

"'Tis not my talent to conceal m

thoughts

Or carry smiles and sunshine in m



face

Should discontent sit heavy at m

heart."

She looked him over, pursing her lips

"I've often thought you might have been player," said she contemptuously.

"I'faith," he laughed, "I'd sooner pla

han toil.""Ay; but you make a toil of play, sir."

"Compassionate me, ma'am," h

mplored in the best of humors. "I am but

sick man. Your ladyship's too keen fo

me."

She moved across to the exit withou

answering him. "Come, child," she said tHortensia. "We are tiring Mr. Caryll,

fear. Let us leave him to his letter, ere i

sets his pocket afire."

Hortensia rose. Loath though she migh



be to depart, there was no reason sh

could urge for lingering.

"Is not your lordship coming?" said she

"Of course he is," her ladyshi

commanded. "I need to speak with you ye

concerning Rotherby," she informed him.

"Hem!" His lordship coughed. Plainlhe was not at his ease. "I will follow

soon. Do not stay for me. I have a word t

say to Mr. Caryll."

"Will it not keep? What can you have tosay to him that is so pressing?"

"But a word—no more."

"Why, then, we'll stay for you," said headyship, and threw him into confusion

hopeless dissembler that he was.

"Nay, nay! I beg that you will not."



Her ladyship's brows went up; her eye

narrowed again, and a frown cam

between them. "You are mighty

mysterious," said she, looking from one the other of the men, and bethinking he

hat it was not the first time she had foun

hem so; bethinking her, too—jumping

woman-like, to rash conclusions—that ihis mystery that linked them might lie th

rue secret of her husband's aversion to hi

son and of his oath a month ago to see tha

same son hang if Mr. Caryll succumbed to

he wound he had taken. With som

women, to suspect a thing is to believ

hat thing. Her ladyship was of these. Shset too high value upon her acumen, upo

he keenness of her instincts.

And if aught were needed to cement he

present suspicions, Mr. Caryll himsel



afforded that cement, by seeming to betra

he same eagerness to be alone with hi

ordship that his lordship was betraying t

be alone with him; though, in truth, he nmore than desired to lend assistance to th

earl out of curiosity to learn what it wa

his lordship might have to say.

"Indeed," said he, "if you could give hi

ordship leave, ma'am, for a few moments

should myself be glad on't."

"Come, Hortensia," said her ladyshishortly, and swept out, Mistress Winthrop

following.

In silence they crossed the law

ogether. Once only ere they reached thhouse, her ladyship looked back. "I woul

knew what they are plotting," she sai

hrough her teeth.



"Plotting?" echoed Hortensia.

"Ay—plotting, simpleton. I said

plotting. I mind me 'tis not the first time

have seen them so mysterious together. Ibegan on the day that first Mr. Caryll se

foot at Stretton House. There's a deal o

mystery about that man—too much fo

honesty. And then these letters touching

which he is so close—one a day—and hi

French lackey always at hand to pounc

upon them the moment they arrive. wonder what's at bottom on't! I wonder

And I'd give these ears to know," sh

snapped in conclusion as they wen

ndoors.In the arbor, meanwhile, his lordship

had taken the rustic seat her ladyship ha

vacated. He sat down heavily, like a ma



who is weary in body and in mind, like

man who is bearing a load too heavy fo

his shoulders. Mr. Caryll, watching him

observed all this."A glass of Hock?" he suggested

waving his hand towards the flask. "Le

me play host to you out of the contents o

your own cellar."

His lordship's eye brightened at th

suggestion, which confirmed th

mpression Mr. Caryll had formed that alwas far from well with his lordship

Leduc brimmed a glass, and handed it t

my lord, who emptied it at a draught. Mr

Caryll waved an impatient hand. "Awaywith you, Leduc. Go watch the goldfish i

he pond. I'll call you if I need you."

After Leduc had departed a silence fel



between them, and endured som

moments. His lordship was leanin

forward, elbows on knees, his face i

shadow. At length he sat back, and lookedat his companion across the littl

ntervening space.

"I have hesitated to speak to you before

Mr. Caryll, upon the matter that you know

of, lest your recovery should not be so fa

advanced that you might bear the strai

and fatigue of conversing upon seriouopics. I trust that that cause is now so fa

removed that I may put aside m

scruples."

"Assuredly—I am glad to say—thanko the great care you have had of me her

at Stretton House."

"There is no debt between us on tha



score," answered his lordship shortly

brusquely almost. "Well, then—" H

checked, and looked about him. "We migh

be approached without hearing any one,he said.

Mr. Caryll smiled, and shook his head

"I am not wont to neglect such details," h

observed. "The eyes of Argus were not so

vigilant as my Leduc's; and he understand

hat we are private. He will give u

warning should any attempt to approachBe assured of that, and believe, therefore

hat we are more snug here than we shoul

be even in your lordship's closet."

"That being so, sir—hem! You arereceiving letters daily. Do they concer

he business of King James?"

"In a measure; or, rather, they are from



one concerned in it."

Ostermore's eyes were on the groun

again. There fell a pause, Mr. Caryl

frowning slightly and full of curiosity as twhat might be coming.

"How soon, think you," asked hi

ordship presently, "you will be in case toravel?"

"In a week, I hope," was the reply.

"Good." The earl nodded thoughtfully

"That may be in time. I pray it may be. 'Tinow the best that we can do. You'll bear a

etter for me to the king?"

Mr. Caryll passed a hand across hichin, his face very grave. "Your answer to

he letter that I brought you?"

"My answer. My acceptance of hi

majesty's proposals."



"Ha!" Mr. Caryll seemed to b

breathing hard.

"Your letters, sir—the letters that you

have been receiving will have told youperhaps, something of how his majesty'

affairs are speeding here?"

"Very little; and from that little I feahat they speed none too well. I woul

counsel your lordship," he continue

slowly—he was thinking as he went—"t

wait a while before you burn your boatsFrom what I gather, matters are in the ai

ust now."

The earl made a gesture, brusque an

mpatient. "Your information is very scanthen," said he.

Mr. Caryll looked askance at him.

"Pho, sir! While you have been abed,



have been up and doing; up and doing

Matters are being pushed forward rapidly

have seen Atterbury. He knows my mind

There lately came an agent from the kingt seems, to enjoin the bishop to abando

his conspiracy, telling him that the tim

was not yet ripe. Atterbury scorns to ac

upon that order. He will work in the king'nterests against the king's own command

even."

"Then, 'tis possible he may work to hiown undoing," said Mr. Caryll, to who

his was, after all, no news.

"Nay, nay; you have been sick; you do

not know how things have sped in this pasmonth. Atterbury holds, and he is right,

dare swear—he holds that never wil

here be such another opportunity. Th



finances of the country are still in chaos

n spite of all Walpole's efforts and fine

promises. The South Sea bubble ha

sapped the confidence in the governmenof all men of weight. The very Whig

hemselves are shaken. 'Tis to King James

England begins to look for salvation fro

his topsy-turveydom. The tide runstrongly in our favor. Strongly, sir! If we

stay for the ebb, we may stay for good; fo

here may never be another flow withi

our lifetime."

"Your lordship is grown strangely ho

upon this question," said Caryll, very ful

of wonder.As he understood Ostermore, the ear

was scarcely the sentimentalist to giv

way to such a passion of loyalty for



weaker side. Yet his lordship had spoken

not with the cold calm of the practical ma

who seeks advantage, but with all th

fervor of the enthusiast."Such is my interest," answered hi

ordship. "Even as the fortunes of th

country are beggared by the South Se

Company, so are my own; even as th

country must look to King James for it

salvation, so must I. At best 'tis but

forlorn hope, I confess; yet 'tis the onlhope I see."

Mr. Caryll looked at him, smiled to

himself, and nodded. So! All this fire and

enthusiasm was about the mending of hipersonal fortunes—the grubbing of riche

for himself. Well, well! It was good

matter wasted on a paltry cause. But i



sorted excellently with what Mr. Caryl

knew of the nature of this father of his. I

never could transcend the practical; ther

was no imagination to carry it beyonhose narrow sordid confines, and Mr

Caryll had been a fool to have suppose

hat any other springs were pushing here

Egotism, egotism, egotism! Its name, hhought, was surely Ostermore. And again

as once before, under the lik

circumstances, he found more pity tha

scorn awaking in his heart. The whol

wasted, sterile life that lay behind thi

man; the unhappy, loveless home tha

stood about him now in his declininyears were the fruits he had garnered fro

hat consuming love of self with which th

gods had cursed him.

The only ray to illumine the blac



desert of Ostermore's existence was th

affection of his ward, Hortensia Winthrop

because in that one instance he had sun

his egotism a little, sparing a crumb opity—for once in his life—for the child'

orphanhood. Had Ostermore been othe

han the man he was, his existence mus

have proved a burden beyond his strengtht was so barren of good deeds, so steril

of affection. Yet encrusted as he was in

hat egotism of his—like the limpet in it

shell—my lord perceived nothing of this

suffered nothing of it, understandin

nothing. He was all-sufficient to himself

Giving nothing, he looked for nothing, ansought his happiness—without knowin

he quest vain—in what he had. The fea

of losing this had now in his declinin

years cast, at length, a shadow upon hi



existence.

Mr. Caryll looked at him almos

sorrowfully. Then he put by his thoughts

and broke the silence. "All this I haunderstood when first I sought you out,

said he. "Yet your lordship did not seem

o realize it quite so keenly. Is it tha

Atterbury and his friends—?"

"No, no," Ostermore broke in

"Look'ee! I will be frank—quite frank an

open with you, Mr. Caryll. Things werbad when first you came to me. Yet not so

bad that I was driven to a choice of evils

had lost heavily. But enough remained to

bear me through my time, though Rotherbmight have found little enough left after

had gone. While that was so, I hesitated t

ake a risk. I am an old man. It had bee



different had I been young with ambition

hat craved satisfying. I am an old man

and I desired peace and my comforts

Deeming these assured, I paused ere risked their loss against the stake which i

King James's name you set upon the board

But it happens to-day that these ar

assured no longer," he ended, his voicbreaking almost, his eyes haggard. "The

are assured no longer."

"You mean?" inquired Caryll."I mean that I am confronted by th

danger of beggary, ruin, shame, and th

sponging-house, at best."

Mr. Caryll was stirred out of his calm"My lord!" he cried. "How is thi

possible? What can have come to pass?"

The earl was silent for a long while. I



was as if he pondered how he shoul

answer, or whether he should answer a

all. At last, in a low voice, a faint ting

reddening his face, his eyes averted, hexplained. It shamed him so to do, ye

must he satisfy that craving of weak mind

o unburden, to seek relief in confession

"Mine is the case of Craggs, the secretarof state," he said. "And Craggs, you'l

remember, shot himself."

"My God," said Mr. Caryll, and openedwide his eyes. "Did you-?" He paused, no

knowing what euphemism to supply for th

hing his lordship must have done.

His lordship looked up, sneering almosn self-derision. "I did," he answered. "To

ell you all—I accepted twenty thousan

pounds' worth of South Sea stock when th



company was first formed, for which I di

not pay other than by lending the schem

he support of my name at a time whe

such support was needed. I was of thministry, then, you will remember."

Mr. Caryll considered him again, and

wondered a moment at the confession, til

he understood by intuition that the matte

and its consequences were so deepl

preying upon the man's mind that he coul

not refrain from giving vent to his fears."And now you know," his lordship

added, "why my hopes are all in Kin

James. Ruin stares me in the face. Rui

and shame. This forlorn Stuart hope is thonly hope remaining me. Therefore, am

eager to embrace it. I have made all plai

o you. You should understand now."



"Yet not quite all. You did this thing

But the inspection of the company's book

s past. The danger of discovery, at least

s averted. Or is it that your conscienccompels you to make restitution?"

His lordship stared and gaped. "Do yo

suppose me mad?" he inquired, quit

seriously. "Pho! Others were overlooked

at the time. We did not all go the way o

Craggs and Aislabie and their fellow

sufferers. Stanhope was assaileafterward, though he was innocent. Tha

filthy fellow, the Duke of Wharton, fro

being an empty fop turned himself on

sudden into a Crown attorney to prosecuthe peculators. It was an easy road to fam

for him, and the fool had a gift o

eloquence. Stanhope's death is on hi

conscience—or would be if he had one



That was six months ago. When h

discovered his error in the case o

Stanhope and saw the fatal consequence

t had, he ceased his dirty lawyer's workBut he had good grounds upon which t

suspect others as highly placed a

Stanhope, and had he followed hi

suspicions he might have turned them intcertainties and discovered evidence. As i

was, he let the matter lie, content with th

execution he had done, and the esteem int

which he had so suddenly hoisted himsel

—the damned profligate!"

Mr. Caryll let pass, as typical, th

udicrous want of logic in Ostermore'strictures of his Grace of Wharton, and th

application by him to the duke o

opprobrious terms that were no whit les

applicable to himself.



"Then, that being so, what cause fo

hese alarms some six months later?"

"Because," answered his lordship in

sudden burst of passion that brought him this feet, empurpled his face and swelle

he veins of his forehead, "because I a

cursed with the filthiest fellow in Englan

for my son."

He said it with the air of one wh

hrows a flood of light where darkness ha

been hitherto, who supplies the key thamust resolve at a turn a whole situation

But Mr. Caryll blinked foolishly.

"My wits are very dull, I fear," said he

"I still cannot understand."

"Then I'll make it all clear to you," sai

his lordship.

Leduc appeared at the arbor entrance.



"What now?" asked Mr. Caryll.

"Her ladyship is approaching, sir,

answered Leduc the vigilant.



CHAPTER XIV.

LADY OSTERMORE

Lord Ostermore and Mr. Caryll looked

across the lawn towards the house, bufailed to see any sign of her ladyship'

approach.

Mr. Caryll raised questioning eyes tohis servant's stolid face, and in tha

moment caught the faintest rustle of

gown behind the arbor. He half-turned to

my lord, and nodded slightly in thdirection of the sound, a smile twisting hi

ips. With a gesture he dismissed Leduc

who returned to the neighborhood of th

pond.



His lordship frowned, angered by th

nterruption. Then: "If your ladyship wil

come inside," said he, "you will hea

better and with greater comfort.""Not to speak of dignity," said Mr

Caryll.

The stiff gown rustled again, this timwithout stealth. The countess appeared, n

whit abashed. Mr. Caryll rose politely.

"You sit with spies to guard you

approaches," said she."As a precaution against spies," was hi

ordship's curt answer.

She measured him with a cool eye"What is't ye hide?" she asked him.

"My shame," he answered readily. The

after a moment's pause, he rose an

offered her his seat. "Since you have thrus



yourself in where you were not bidden

you may hear and welcome, ma'am," sai

he. "It may help you to understand wha

you term my injustice to my son.""Are these matters wherewith t

mportune a stranger—a guest?"

"I am proposing to say in your presencwhat I was about to say in your absence,

said he, without answering her question

"Be seated, ma'am."

She sniffed, closed her fan with clatter, and sat down. Mr. Caryll resumed

his long chair, and his lordship took th

stool.

"I am told," the latter resume

presently, recapitulating in part for he

adyship's better understanding, "that hi

Grace of Wharton is intending to reope



he South Sea scandal, as soon as he ca

find evidence that I was one of those wh

profited by the company's charter."

"Profited?" she echoed, between scorand bitter amusement. "Profited, did y

say? I think your dotage is surely upon yo

—you that have sunk nigh all your fortun

and all that you had with me in thi

hieving venture—d'ye talk of profits?"

"At the commencement I did profit, a

did many others. Had I been content witmy gains, had I been less of a trusting fool

t had been well. I was dazzled, maybe, b

he glare of so much gold. I needed more

and so I lost all. That is evil enough. Buhere is worse. I may be called upon t

make restitution of what I had from th

company without paying for it—I ma



give all that's left me and barely cover th

amount, and I may starve and be damne

hereafter."

Her ladyship's face was ghastly. Horrostared from her pale eyes. She had known

from the beginning, of that twenty thousan

pounds' worth of stock, and she had had—

with his lordship—her anxious moment

when the disclosures were being made si

months ago that had brought the Craggses

Aislabie and a half-dozen others to shamand ruin.

His lordship looked at her a momen

"And if this shipwreck comes, as it now

hreatens," he continued, "it is my son shall have to thank for't."

She found voice to ask: "How so?

courage to put the question scornfully. "I



t not rather Rotherby you have to than

hat the disclosures did not come si

months ago? What was it saved you bu

he friendship his Grace of Wharton hafor Charles?"

"Why, then," stormed his lordship, "did

he not see to't that he preserved tha

friendship? It but needed a behavior of a

much decency and honor as Wharto

exacts in his associates—and the Lor

knows how much that is!" he sneered. "At is, he has gone even lower than tha

abandoned scourer; so low that even thi

rakehell duke must become his enemy fo

his own credit's sake. He attempts mockmarriages with ladies of quality; and h

attempts murder by stabbing through th

back a gentleman who has spared hi

worthless life. Not even the president o



he Hell Fire Club can countenance thes

hings, strong stomach though he have fo

villainy. It is something to have contrived

o come so low that even his Grace oWharton must turn upon him, and swea

his ruin. And so that he may ruin him, hi

grace is determined to ruin me. Now yo

understand, madam—and you, MrCaryll."

Mr. Caryll understood. He understood

even more than his lordship meant him tunderstand; more than his lordshi

understood, himself. So, too, did he

adyship, if we may judge from the repl

she made him."You fool," she railed. "You vain

blind, selfish fool! To blame Rotherby fo

his. Rather should Rotherby, blame yo



hat by your damned dishonesty have set

weapon against him in his enemy's hands.

"Madam!" he roared, empurpling, an

coming heavily to his feet. "Do you knowwho I am?"

"Ay—and what you are, which i

something you will never know. GodWas there ever so self-centered a fool?

Compassionate me, Heaven!" She rose

oo, and turned to Mr. Caryll. "You, sir,"

she said to him, "you have been draggento this, I know not why."

She broke off suddenly, looking at him

her eyes a pair of gimlets now fo

penetration. "Why have you been draggento it?" she demanded. "What is here?

demand to know. What help does my lord

expect from you that he tells you this



Does he—" She paused an instant,

cunning smile breaking over her wrinkled

painted face. "Does he propose to sel

himself to the king over the water, and aryou a secret agent come to do the buying

s that the answer to this riddle?"

Mr. Caryll, imperturbable outwardly

but very ill at ease within, smiled an

waved the delicate hand that appeare

hrough the heavy ruffle at his wrist

"Madam, indeed—ah—your ladyship goevery fast. You leap so at conclusions fo

which no grounds can exist. His lordship

s so overwrought—as well he may be

alas!—that he cares not before whom hspeaks. Is it not plainly so?"

She smiled very sourly. "You are a ver

master of evasion, sir. But your evasio



gives me the answer that I lack—that an

his lordship's face. I drew my bow at

venture; yet look, sir, and tell me, has m

quarrel missed its mark?"And, indeed, the sudden fear an

consternation written on my lord's fac

was so plain that all might read it. He wa

—as Mr. Caryll had remarked on the firs

occasion that they met—the wors

dissembler that ever set hand to

conspiracy. He betrayed himself at everstep, if not positively, by incautiou

words, why then by the utter lack o

control he had upon his countenance.

He made now a wild attempt to bluster"Lies! Lies!" he protested. "You

adyship's a-dreaming. Should I be makin

bad worse by plotting at my time of life



Should I? What can King James avail me

ndeed?"

"'Tis what I will ask Rotherby to help

me to discover," she informed him.

"Rotherby?" he cried. "Would you tel

hat villain what you suspect? Would you

arm him with another weapon for mundoing?"

"Ha!" said she. "You admit so much

hen?" And she laughed disdainfully. Then

with a sudden sternness, a sudden nobilitalmost in the motherhood which she pu

forward—"Rotherby is my son," she said

"and I'll not have my son the victim o

your follies as well as of your injusticeWe may curb the one and the other yet, my

ord."

And she swept out, fan going briskly i



one hand, her long ebony cane swinging a

briskly in the other.

"O God!" groaned Ostermore, and sa

down heavily.

Mr. Caryll helped himself copiously to

snuff. "I think," said he, his voice so coo

hat it had an almost soothing influence, "hink your lordship has now anothe

reason why you should go no further i

his matter."

"But if I do not—what other hopes hav? Damn me! I'm a ruined man either way.

"Nay, nay," Mr. Caryll reminded him

"Assuming even that you are correctl

nformed, and that his Grace of Wharton i

determined to move against you, it is no

o be depended that he will succeed i

collecting such evidence as he must need



At this date much of the evidence that ma

once have been available will have bee

dissipated. You are rash to despair so

soon.""There is that," his lordship admitte

houghtfully, a little hopefully, even; "ther

s that." And with the resilience of hi

nature—of men who form opinions o

slight grounds, and, therefore, are ready t

change them upon grounds as slight—"

faith! I may have been running to meet mrouble. 'Tis but a rumor, after all, tha

Wharton is for mischief, and—as you sa

—as like as not there'll be no evidence b

now. There was little enough at the time."Still, I'll make doubly sure. My lette

o King James can do no harm. We'll talk

of it again, when you are in case t



ravel."

It passed through Mr. Caryll's mind a

he moment that Lady Ostermore and he

son might between them brew sucmischief as might seriously hinder hi

from travelling, and he was very near th

ruth. For already her ladyship wa

closeted with Rotherby in her boudoir.

The viscount was dressed fo

ravelling, intent upon withdrawing to th

country, for he was well-informed alreadof the feeling of the town concerning him

and had no mind to brave the slights an

cold-shoulderings that would await hi

did he penetrate to any of the haunts opeople of quality and fashion. He stoo

before his mother now, a tall, lank figure

his black face very gloomy, his sensua



ips thrust forward in a sullen pout. She, i

a gilt arm-chair before her toilet-table

was telling him the story of what ha

passed, his father's fear of ruin andisgrace. He swore between his teet

when he heard that the danger threatene

from the Duke of Wharton.

"And your father's destitution means ou

destitution—yours and mine; for hi

gambling schemes have consumed m

portion long since."He laughed and shrugged. "I marvel

should concern myself," said he. "Wha

can it avail me to save the rags that ar

eft him of his fortune? He's sworn I shalnever touch a penny that he may di

possessed of."

"But there's the entail," she reminde



him. "If restitution is demanded, th

Crown will not respect it. 'Twill be

another sop to throw the whining curs tha

were crippled by the bubble, and whhreaten to disturb the country if they ar

not appeased. If Wharton carries out thi

exposure, we're beggars—utter beggars

hat may ask an alms to quiet hunger."

"'Tis Wharton's present hate of me,

said he thoughtfully, and swore. "Th

damned puppy! He'd make a sacrifice ome upon the altar of respectability, just a

he made a sacrifice of the South Se

bubblers. What else was the stinkin

rakehell seeking but to put himself righagain in the eyes of a town that wa

nauseated with him and his excesses? Th

self-seeking toad that makes virtue hi

profession—the virtue of others—an



profligacy his recreation!" He smote fis

nto palm. "There's a way to silence him."

"Ah?" she looked up quickly, hopefully

"A foot or so of steel," Rotherby

explained, and struck the hilt of his sword

"I might pick a quarrel with him. 'Twould

not be difficult. Come upon him unawaressay, and strike him. That should force

fight."

"Tusk, fool! He's all empanoplied i

virtue where you are concerned. He'd ushe matter of your affair with Caryll as

reason not to meet you, whatever yo

might do, and he'd set his grooms t

punish any indignity you might put upohim."

"He durst not."

"Pooh! The town would all approv



him in it since your running Caryll throug

he back. What a fool you were, Charles."

He turned away, hanging his head, ful

conscious, and with no little bitterness, ohow great had been his folly.

"Salvation may lie for you in the sam

source that has brought you to the presenpass—this man Caryll," said the countes

presently. "I suspect him more than ever o

being a Jacobite agent."

"I know him to be such.""You know it?"

"All but; and Green is assured of i

oo." He proceeded to tell her what hknew. "Ever since Green met Caryll a

Maidstone has he suspected him, yet bu

hat I kept him to the task he would hav

abandoned it. He's in my pay now as muc



as in Lord Carteret's, and if he can ru

Caryll to earth he receives his wages fro

both sides."

"Well—well? What has he discovered?Anything?"

"A little. This Caryll frequented

regularly the house of one Everard, whcame to town a week after Caryll's ow

arrival. This Everard—Sir Richar

Everard is known to be a Jacobite. He i

he Pretender's Paris agent. They woulhave laid him by the heels before, but tha

by precipitancy they feared to ruin thei

chances of discovering the business tha

may have brought him over. They argiving him rope at present. Meanwhile, b

my cursed folly, Caryll's visits to hi

were interrupted. But there has bee



correspondence between them."

"I know," said her ladyship. "A lette

was delivered him just now. I tried to

smoke him concerning it. But he's toastute."

"Astute or not," replied her son, "onc

he leaves Stretton House it should not bong ere he betrays himself and gives u

cause to lay him by the heels. But how

will that help us?"

"Do you ask how? Why, if there is plot, and we can discover it, we migh

make terms with the secretary of state t

avoid any disclosure Wharton may inten

concerning the South Sea matter."

"But that would be to discover m

father for a Jacobite! What advantag

should we derive from that? 'Twould be



as bad as t'other matter."

"Let me die, but ye're a slow-witte

clod, Charles. D'ye think we can find n

way to disclose the plot and Mr. Caryll—and Everard, too, if you choose—withou

ncluding your father? My lord is timidl

cautious, and you may depend he'll no

have put himself in their hands to an

extent just yet."

The viscount paced the chamber slowl

n long strides, head bent in thought, handclasped behind him. "It will nee

consideration," said he. "But it may serve

and I can count upon Green. He i

satisfied that Caryll befooled him aMaidstone, and that he kept the papers h

carried despite the thoroughness o

Green's investigations. Moreover, he wa



handled with some roughness by Caryl

For that and the other matter he ask

redress—thirsts for it. He's a very willin

ool, as I have found.""Then see that you use him adroitly t

your work," said his mother. "Best no

eave town at present, Charles."

"Why, no," said he. "I'll find me

odging somewhere at hand, since my fon

sire is determined I shall pollute no longe

he sacrosanctity of his dwelling. Perhapwhen I have pulled him out of thi

quicksand, he will deign to mitigate th

bitterness of his feelings for me. Though

faith, I find life endurable without thaffection he should have consecrated t

me."

"Ay," she said, looking up at him. "You



are his son; too much his son, I fear. 'Ti

why he dislikes you so intensely. He see

n you the faults to which he is blind i

himself.""Sweet mother!" said his lordship

bowing.

She scowled at him. She could deal irony herself—and loved to—but sh

detested to have it dealt to her.

He bowed again; gained the door, and

would have passed out but that shdetained him.

"'Tis a pity, on some scores, to dispose

so utterly of this Caryll," she said. "Th

pestilent coxcomb has his uses, and hi

uses, like adversity's, are sweet."

He paused to question her with hi

eyes.



"He might have made a husband fo

Hortensia, and rid me of the company o

hat white-faced changeling."

"Might he so?" quoth the viscount, facand voice, expressionless.

"They were made for each other," he

adyship opined."Were they so?"

"Ay—were they. And faith they've

discovered it. I would you had seen th

urtles in the arbor an hour ago, when surprised them."

His lordship attempted a smile, bu

achieved nothing more than a wry face ana change of color. His mother's eyes

observing these signs, grew on a sudde

startled.

"Why, fool," quoth she, "do you hold



here still? Art not yet cured of that folly?

"What folly, ma'am?"

"This folly that already has cost you s

much. 'Sdeath! As I'm a woman, if you'd

so much feeling for the girl, I marvel y

did not marry her honestly and in earnes

when the chance was yours."The pallor of his face increased. H

clenched his hands. "I marvel myself that

did not," he answered passionately—an

went out, slamming the door after him, aneaving her ladyship agape and angry.



CHAPTER XV. LOVE

AND RAGE

Lord Rotherby, descending from tha

nterview with his mother, espiedHortensia crossing the hall below

Forgetting his dignity, he quickened hi

movements, and took the remainder of th

stairs two at a stride. But, then, hi

ordship was excited and angry, and

considerations of dignity did not obtai

with him at the time. For that matter, theseldom did.

"Hortensia! Hortensia!" he called t

her, and at his call she paused.



Not once during the month that was pas

—and during which he had, for the mos

part, kept his room, to all intents

prisoner—had she exchanged so much aa word with him. Thus, not seeing him

she had been able, to an extent, to exclud

him from her thoughts, which, naturall

enough, were reluctant to entertain him foheir guest.

Her calm, as she paused now i

acquiescence to his bidding, was such that almost surprised herself. She had love

him once—or thought so, a little mont

ago—and at a single blow he had slai

hat love. Now love so slain has a trick oresurrecting in the guise of hate; and so

she had thought at first had been the cas

with her. But this moment proved to he

now that her love was dead, indeed, sinc



of her erstwhile affection not even a recoi

o hate remained. Dislike she may hav

felt; but it was that cold dislike that breed

a deadly indifference, and seeks no activexpression, asking no more than th

avoidance of its object.

Her calm, reflected in her face of

beauty almost spiritual, in every stead

ine of her slight, graceful figure, gave hi

pause a moment, and his hot glance fel

abashed before the chill indifference thamet him from those brown eyes.

A man of deeper sensibilities, of keene

perceptions, would have bowed and gon

his way. But then a man of deepesensibilities would never have sought thi

nterview that the viscount was now

seeking. Therefore, it was but natural tha



he should recover swiftly from hi

momentary halt, and step aside to throw

open the door of a little room on the righ

of the hall. Bowing slightly, he invited heo enter.

"Grant me a moment ere I go

Hortensia," he said, between comman

and exhortation.

She stood cogitating him an instan

with no outward sign of what might b

passing in her mind; then she slightlnclined her head, and went forward as h

bade her.

It was a sunny room, gay with ligh

color and dainty furnishings, having lonwindow-doors that opened to the garden

An Aubusson carpet of palest green, wit

a festoon pattern of pink roses, covere



wo-thirds of the blocked, polished floor

The empanelled walls were white, wit

here a gilt mirror, flanked on either sid

by a girandole in ormolu. A spinet stoodopen in mid-chamber, and upon it wer

sheets of music, a few books and a bow

of emerald-green ware, charged now wit

roses, whose fragrance lay heavy on thair. There were two or three small table

of very dainty, fragile make, and the chair

were in delicately-tinted tapestr

llustrating the fables of La Fontaine.

It was an apartment looked upon b

Hortensia as her own withdrawing-room

set apart for her own use, and as that thhousehold—her very ladyship included—

had ever recognized it.

His lordship closed the door with care



Hortensia took her seat upon the long stoo

hat stood at the spinet, her back to th

nstrument, and with hands idle in her lap

—the same cold reserve upon hecountenance-she awaited hi

communication.

He advanced until he was close besid

her, and stood leaning an elbow on th

corner of the spinet, a long and no

ungraceful figure, with the black curls o

his full-bottomed wig falling about hiswarthy, big-featured face.

"I have but my farewells to make

Hortensia," said he. "I am leaving Stretto

House, to-day, at last.""I am glad," said she, in a formal, leve

voice, "that things should have fallen ou

so as to leave you free to go your ways."



"You are glad," he answered, frowning

slightly, and leaning farther towards her

"Ay, and why are you glad? Why? You ar

glad for Mr. Caryll's sake. Do you dent?"

She looked up at him quite calm an

fearlessly. "I am glad for your own sake

oo."

His dark brooding eyes looked deep

nto hers, which did not falter under hi

nsistent gaze. "Am I to believe you?" hnquired.

"Why not? I do not wish your death."

"Not my death—but my absence?" h

sneered. "You wish for that, do you not

You would prefer me gone? My room i

better than my company just now? 'Ti

what you think, eh?"



"I have not thought of it at all," sh

answered him with a pitiless frankness.

He laughed, soft and wickedly. "Is it so

very hopeless, then? You have not thoughof it at all by which you mean that yo

have not thought of me at all."

"Is't not best so? You have given me nocause to think of you to your advantage.

am therefore kind to exclude you from m

houghts."

"Kind?" he mocked her. "You think ikind to put me from your mind—I wh

ove you, Hortensia!"

She rose upon the instant, her cheek

warming faintly. "My lord," said she, "

hink there is no more to be said betwee

us."

"Ah, but there is," he cried. "A dea



more yet." And he left his place by th

spinet to come and stand immediatel

before her, barring her passage to th

door. "Not only to say farewell was it thadesired to speak with you alone here.

His voice softened amazingly. "I wan

your pardon ere I go. I want you to say tha

you forgive me the vile thing I would havdone, Hortensia." Contrition quivered i

his lowered voice. He bent a knee to her

and held out his hand. "I will not rise unti

you speak my pardon, child."

"Why, if that be all, I pardon you very

readily," she answered, still betraying no

emotion.He frowned. "Too readily!" he cried

"Too readily for sincerity. I will not take

t so."



"Indeed, my lord, for a penitent, you ar

very difficult to please. I pardon you wit

all my heart."

"You are sincere?" he cried, and sougho take her hands; but she whipped the

away and behind her. "You bear me no ill

will?"

She considered him now with a calm

critical gaze, before which he was force

o lower his bold eyes. "Why should

bear you an ill-will?" she asked him."For the thing I did—the thing I sough

o do."

"I wonder do you know all that yo

did?" she asked him, musingly. "Shall

ell you, my lord? You cured me of a folly

had been blind, and you made me see.

had foolishly thought to escape one evi



and you made me realize that I wa

rushing into a worse. You saved me from

myself. You may have made me suffe

hen; but it was a healing hurt you dealme. And should I bear you an ill-will fo

hat?"

He had risen from his knee. He stoo

apart, pondering her from under ben

brows with eyes that were full of angr

fire.

"I do not think," she ended, "that therneeds more between us. I have understoo

you, sir, since that day at Maidstone—

hink we were strangers until then; an

perhaps now you may begin to understanme. Fare you well, my lord."

She made shift to go, but he barred he

passage now in earnest, his hand



clenched beside him in witness of th

violence he did himself to keep the

here. "Not yet," he said, in a deep

concentrated voice. "Not yet. I did you wrong, I know. And what you say—crue

as it is—is no more than I deserve. But

desire to make amends. I love you

Hortensia, and desire to make amends."

She smiled wistfully. "'Tis overlate to

alk of that."

"Why?" he demanded fiercely, andcaught her arms, holding her there befor

him. "Why is it overlate?"

"Suffer me to go," she commanded

rather than begged, and made to freherself of his grasp.

"I want you to be my wife, Hortensia—

my wedded wife."



She looked at him, and laughed; a col

augh, disdainful, yet not bitter. "You

wanted that before, my lord; yet yo

neglected the opportunity my folly gavyou. I thank you—you, after God—for tha

same neglect."

"Ah, do not say that!" he begged, a ver

suppliant again. "Do not say that! Child,

ove you. Do you understand?"

"Who could fail to understand, after th

abundant proof you have afforded me oyour sincerity and your devotion?"

"Do you rally me?" he demanded

etting through a flash of the anger that wa

mounting in him. "Am I so poor a thinhat you whet your little wit upon me?"

"My lord, you are paining me. What ca

you look to gain by this? Suffer me to go."



A moment yet he stood, holding he

wrists and looking down into her eye

with a mixture of pleading and ferocity i

his. Then he made a sound in his throatand caught her bodily to him; his arms

aced about her, held her bound and

crushed against him. His dark, flushe

face hovered above her own.

Fear took her at last. It mounted an

grew to horror. "Let me go, my lord," sh

besought him, her voice trembling. "Ohet me go!"

"I love you, Hortensia! I need you!" h

cried, as if wrung by pain, and then ho

upon her brow and cheeks and lips hikisses fell, and shame turned her to fir

from head to foot as she fought helplessl

within his crushing grasp.



"You dog!" she panted, and writhing

harder, wrenched free a hand and arm

Blindly she beat upwards into that evi

satyr's face. "You beast! You toad! Youcoward!"

They fell apart, each panting; sh

eaning faint against the spinet, her boso

galloping; he muttering oaths decent an

other—for in the upward thrusting of he

ittle hand one of its fingers had prodde

at an eye, and the pain of it—which hacaused him to relax his hold of her—

stripped what little veneer remained upo

he man's true nature.

"Will you go?" she asked him furiouslyoutraged by the vileness of his ravings

"Will you go, or must I summon help?"

He stood looking at her, straightenin



his wig, which had become disarranged i

he struggle, and forcing himself to a

outward calm. "So," he said. "You scorn

me? You will not marry me? You realisehe chance, eh? And why? Why?"

"I suppose it is because I am blind t

he honor of the alliance," she controlle

herself to answer him. "Will you go?"

He did not move. "Yet you loved me

once—"

"'Tis a lie!" she blazed. "I thought I did—to my undying shame. No more tha

hat, my lord—as I've a soul to be saved."

"You loved Me," he insisted. "And you

would love me still but for this damne

Caryll—this French coxcomb, who ha

crawled into your regard like the slimy

creeping thing he is."



"It sorts well with your ways, my lord

hat you could say these things behind hi

back. You are practiced at stabbing men

behind."The gibe, with all the hurtful, stingin

quality that only truth possesses, struck hi

anger from him, leaving him limp an

pale. Then he recovered.

"Do you know who he is—what he is?

he asked. "I will tell you. He's a spy—

damned Jacobite spy, whom a word frome will hang."

Her eyes lashed him with her scorn. "

were a fool did I believe you," was he

contemptuous answer.

"Ask him," he said, and laughed. H

urned and strode to the door. Paused

here, sardonic, looking back. "I shall b



quits with you, ma'am. Quits! I'll hang thi

pretty turtle of yours at Tyburn. Tell him

so from me."

He wrenched the door open, and wenout on that, leaving her cold and sick wit

dread.

Was it but an idle threat to terrorizeher? Was it but that? Her impulse was to

seek Mr. Caryll upon the instant that sh

might ask him and allay her fears. Bu

what right had she? Upon what groundcould she set a question upon so secret

matter? She conceived him raising hi

brows in that supercilious way of his, an

ooking her over from head to toe ahough seeking a clue to the nature of thi

quaint thing that asked him questions. Sh

pictured his smile and the jest with whic



he would set aside her inquiry. Sh

magined, indeed, just what she believe

would happen did she ask him; which wa

precisely what would not have happenedmagining thus, she held her peace, an

nursed her secret dread. And on th

following day, his weakness so fa

overcome as to leave him no excuse tinger at Stretton House, Mr. Caryll too

his departure and returned to his lodgin

n Old Palace Yard.

One more treasonable interview had h

with Lord Ostermore in the library ere h

departed. His lordship it was wh

reopened again the question, to repeamuch of what he had said in the arbor o

he previous day, and Mr. Caryll replied

with much the same arguments in favor o

procrastination that he had alread



employed.

"Wait, at least," he begged, "until I have

been abroad a day or two, and felt fo

myself how the wind Is setting."

"'Tis a prodigiously dangerou

document," he declared. "I scarce see th

need for so much detail.""How can it set but one way?"

"'Tis a question I shall be in better cas

o answer when I have had an opportunit

of judging. Meanwhile, be assured I shalnot sail for France without advising you

Time enough then to give me your lette

should you still be of the same mind."

"Be it so," said the earl. "When all i

said, the letter will be safer here

meantime, than in your pocket." And h

apped the secretaire. "But see what I hav



writ his majesty, and tell me should I alte

aught."

He took out a drawer on the right—too

t out bodily—then introduced his hannto the opening, running it along the inne

side of the desk until, no doubt, he touche

a spring; for suddenly a small trap wa

opened. From this cavity he fished out tw

documents—one the flimsy tissue o

which King James' later was penned; th

other on heavier material LorOstermore's reply. He spread the latte

before him, and handed it to Mr. Caryll

who ran an eye over it.

It was indited with stupidcharacteristic incaution; concealment wa

never once resorted to; everywher

expressions of the frankest wer



employed, and every line breathed the ful

measure of his lordship's treason an

betrays the existence of a plot.

Mr. Caryll returned it. His countenancwas grave.

"I desire his majesty to know how

whole-heartedly I belong to him.""'Twere best destroyed, I think. You

can write another when the time comes t

dispatch it."

But Ostermore was never one to taksensible advice. "Pooh! 'Twill be safe in

here. 'Tis a secret known to none." H

dropped it, together with King James

etter, back into the recess, snapped dow

he trap, and replaced the drawer

Whereupon Mr. Caryll took his leave

promising to advise his lordship o



whatever he might glean, and so departe

from Stretton House.

My Lord Rotherby, meanwhile, wa

very diligent in the business upon whiche was intent. He had received in hi

nterview with Hortensia an added spur t

such action as might be scatheful to Mr

Caryll. His lordship was lodged i

Portugal Row, within a stone's throw o

his father's house, and there, on that sam

evening of his moving thither, he had MrGreen to see him, desiring news.

Mr. Green had little to impart, bu

strong hope of much to be garnere

presently. His little eyes twinkling, hichubby face suffused in smiles, as thoug

t were an excellent jest to be huntin

knowledge that should hang a man, the sp



assured Lord Rotherby that there was littl

doubt Mr. Caryll could be implicated a

soon as he was about again.

"And that's the reason—after youordship's own express wishes—why s

far I have let Sir Richard Everard be. I

may come to trouble for me with my Lor

Carteret should it be smoked that I hav

been silent on the matters within m

knowledge. But—"

"Oh, a plague on that!" said hiordship. "You'll be well paid for you

services when you've rendered them. And

meanwhile, I understand that not anothe

soul in London—that is, on the side of thgovernment—is aware of Sir Richard'

presence in town. So where is you

danger?"



"True," said Mr. Green, plump hand

caressing plumper chin. "Had it not bee

so, I should have been forced to apply t

he secretary for a warrant before this.""Then you'll wait," said his lordship

"and you'll act as I may direct you. It wil

be to your credit in the end. Wait unti

Caryll has enmeshed himself by frequen

visits to Sir Richard's. Then get you

warrant—when I give the word—an

execute it one fine night when Carylhappens to be closeted with Everard

Whether we can get further evidenc

against him or not, that circumstance of hi

being found with the Pretender's agenshould go some way towards hanging him

The rest we must supply."

Mr. Green smiled seraphically. "Ecod



'd give my ears to have the slipper

fellow safe. Codso! I would. He bubble

me at Maidstone, and I limped a fortnigh

from the kick he gave me.""He shall do a little more kicking—

with both feet," said his lordship wit

unction.



CHAPTER XVI. MR.

GREEN EXECUTES

HIS WARRANT

Five days later, Mr. Caryll—whose

recovery had so far progressed that h

might now be said to be his own ma

again—came briskly up from CharinCross one evening at dusk, to the house a

he corner of Maiden Lane where Si

Richard Everard was lodged. H

observed three or four fellows lounginabout the corner of Chandos street an

Bedford street, but it did not occur to hi

hat from that point they could comman



Sir Richard's door—nor that such coul

be their object—until, as he swun

sharply round the corner, he hurtled

violently into a man who was moving ihe opposite direction without lookin

whither he was going. The man steppe

quickly aside with a murmured word o

apology, to give Mr. Caryll the wall thahe might pass on. But Mr. Caryll paused.

"Ah, Mr. Green!" said he ver

pleasantly. "How d'ye? Have ye beesearching folk of late?"

Mr. Green endeavored to dissemble hi

startled expression in a grin that reveale

his white teeth. "Ye can't forgive me thablunder, Mr. Caryll," said he.

Mr. Caryll smiled fondly upon him

"From your manner I take it that on you



side you practice a more Christian virtue

t is plain that you forgive me the sequel."

Mr. Green shrugged and spread hi

hands. "You were in the right, sir; youwere in the right," he explained. "Thos

are the risks a man of my calling must run

must suffer for my blunders."

Mr. Caryll continued to smile. But tha

he light was failing, the spy might hav

observed a certain hardening in the line

of his mouth. "Here is a very humblmood," said he. "It is like the crouc

before the spring. In whom do you desig

o plant your claws?—yours and you

friends yonder." And he pointed with hicane across the street towards th

oungers he had observed.

"My friends?" quoth Mr. Green, in



voice of disgust. "Nay, your honor! No

friends of mine, ecod! Indeed, no!"

"No? I am at fault, then. Yet they look

as if they might be bumbailiffs. 'Tis thkind ye herd with, is't not? Give you good

even, Mr. Green." And he went on, coo

and unconcerned, and turned in through th

narrow doorway by the glover's shop t

mount the stairs to Sir Richard's lodging.

Mr. Green stood still to watch him go

Then he swore through his teeth, anbeckoned one of those whos

acquaintance he had disclaimed.

"'Tis like him, ecod! to have gone in in

spite of seeing me and you! He's coolDamned cool! But he'll be cooler ye

codso!" Then, briskly questioning hi

satellite: "Is Sir Richard within, Jerry?"



"Ay," answered Jerry—a rough

heavily-built tatterdemalion. "He's bee

here these two hours."

"'Tis our chance to nab 'em both, thenour last chance, maybe. The game is up

That fine gentleman has smoked it." H

was angry beyond measure. Their plan

were far from ripe, and yet to delay longe

now that their vigilance was detected was

perhaps, to allow Sir Richard to sli

hrough their fingers, as well as the other"Have ye your barkers?" he asked harshly

Jerry tapped a heavily bulging pocket

and winked. Mr. Green thrust his three

cornered hat a-cock over one eye, anwith his hands behind the tails of his coat

stood pondering. "Ay, pox on't!" he

grumbled. "It must be done to-night.



dursn't delay longer. We'll give the

gentlemen time to settle comfortably; the

up we go to make things merry for 'em.

And he beckoned the others across.Meanwhile Mr. Caryll had gone up

with considerable misgivings. The las

etter he had received from Sir Richard—

hat day at Stretton House—had been t

apprise him that his adoptive father wa

on the point of leaving town but that h

would be returned within the week. Thbusiness that had taken him had been agai

concerned with Atterbury the obstinate

Upon another vain endeavor to dissuad

he bishop from a scheme his king did noapprove had Sir Richard journeyed t

Rochester. He had had his pains fo

nothing. Atterbury had kept him there

entertaining him, and seeking in his turn t



engulf the agent in the business that wa

oward—business which was ultimately t

suck down Atterbury and his associates

Sir Richard, however, was very firm. Andwhen at last he left Rochester to return t

own and his adoptive son, a coolnes

marked the parting of those two adherent

of the Stuart dynasty.

Returned to London—whence hi

absence had been marked with alarm b

Mr. Green—Sir Richard had sent message to Mr. Caryll, and the latter mad

haste to answer it in person.

His adoptive father received him wit

open arms, and such a joy in his face, suca light in his old eyes as should hav

gladdened his visitor, yet only served

sadden him the more. He sighed as Si



Richard thrust him back that he might loo

at him.

"Ye're pale, boy," he said, "and ye look

hinner." And with that he fell to revilinghe deed that was the cause of this

Rotherby and the whole brood o

Ostermore.

"Let be," said Mr. Caryll, as h

dropped into a chair. "Rotherby i

undergoing his punishment. The tow

ooks on him as a cut-throat who hanarrowly escaped the gallows. I marve

hat he tarries here. An I were he, I thin

'd travel for a year or two."

"What weakness made you spare hiwhen ye had him at the point of you

sword?"

"That which made me regret that I ha



him there; the reflection that he is m

brother."

Sir Richard looked at him in som

surprise. "I thought you of sterner stuffJustin," he said presently, and sighed

passing a long white hand across his bon

brow. "I thought I had reared you to a fine

strength. But there! What of Ostermor

himself?"

"What of him?"

"Have you not talked again with him ohe matter of going over to King James?"

"To what end, since the chance is lost?

His betrayal now would involve th

betrayal of Atterbury and the others—fo

he has been in touch with them."

"Has he though? The bishop said naugh

of this."



"I have it from my lord himself—and

know the man. Were he taken they'd wring

out of him whatever happened to be i

him. He has no discretion. Indeed, he's bua clod, too stupid even to be aware of hi

own stupidity."

"Then what is to be done?" inquired Si

Richard, frowning.

"We'd best get home to France again."

"And leave matters thus?" H

considered a moment, and shook his headsmiling bitterly. "Could that content you

Justin? Could you go as you have come—

aking no more than you brought; leavin

hat man as you found him? Could you?"

Mr. Caryll looked at the baronet, and

wondered for a moment whether he shoul

persevere in the rule of his life and dea



quite frankly with him, telling hi

precisely what he felt. Then he realize

hat he would not be understood. He coul

not combat the fanaticism that was SiRichard's in this matter. If he told him th

ruth; how he loathed the task; how h

rejoiced that circumstances had now put i

beyond his reach—all he would achievwould be to wound Sir Richard in hi

enderest place and to no purpose.

"It is not a matter of what I would," hanswered slowly, wearily almost. "It is

matter of what I must. Here in England i

no more to be done. Moreover, there'

danger for you in lingering, or I'm mucmistaken else."

"Danger of what?" asked Sir Richard

with indifference.



"You are being spied upon."

"Pho! I am accustomed to it. I have bee

spied upon all my life."

"Like enough. But this time the spies ar

messengers from the secretary of state.

caught a glimpse of them lurking abou

your doorway—three or four at least—and as I entered I all but fell over a Mr

Green—a most pertinacious gentlema

with whom I have already som

acquaintance. He is the very man whsearched me at Maidstone; he has kept hi

eye upon me ever since, which has no

roubled me. But that he should keep a

eye on you means that your identity isuspected, and if that be so—well, th

sooner we are out of England the bette

for your health."



Sir Richard shook his head calmly. Th

fine-featured, lean old face showed n

sign of uneasiness. "A fig for all that!

said he. "I go not thus—empty-handed as came. After all these years of waiting."

A knock fell upon the door, and Si

Richard's man entered. His face wa

white, his eyes startled.

"Sir Richard," he announced, his voic

owered portentously, "there are som

men here who insist upon seeing you."Mr. Caryll wheeled in his chair

"Surely they did not ask for him by name?

he inquired in the same low key employe

by the valet.

The man nodded in silence. Mr. Caryl

swore through his teeth. Sir Richard rose.

"I am occupied at present," he said in



calm voice. "I can receive nobody. Desir

o know their business. If it imports, bi

hem come again to-morrow."

"It is over-urgent for that, Sir RicharEverard," came the soft voice of Mr

Green, who thrust himself suddenl

forward past the servant. Other figure

were seen moving behind him in the ante

room.

"Sir," cried Sir Richard angrily. "Thi

s a most insolent intrusion. Bentley, showhis fellow the door."

Bentley set a hand on Mr. Green'

shoulder. Mr. Green nimbly twisted out o

t, and produced a paper. "I have here warrant for your apprehension, Si

Richard, from my Lord Carteret, th

secretary of state."



Mr. Caryll advanced menacingly upo

he tipstaff. Mr. Green stepped back, and

fell into a defensive attitude, balancing

short but formidable-looking lifepreserver.

"Keep your distance, sir, or 'twill b

he worse for you," he threatened. "Hi!" h

called. "Jerry! Beattie!"

Jerry, Beattie, and two other ruffian

crowded to the doorway, but advanced

ittle beyond the threshold. Mr. Carylurned to Sir Richard. But Mr. Green wa

he first to speak.

"Sir Richard," said he, "you'll see tha

we are but instruments of the law. Igrieves me profoundly to have you for ou

object. But ye'll see that 'tis no affair o

ours, who have but to do the duty tha



we're ordered. Ye'll not give these poo

fellows trouble, I trust. Ye'll surrende

quietly."

Sir Richard's answer was to pull open drawer in the writing-table, by which h

was standing, and whip out a pistol.

What exactly he may have intended, hwas never allowed to announce. A

explosion shook the room, coming fro

he doorway, upon which Mr. Caryll had

urned his shoulder; there was a spurt oflame, and Sir Richard collapsed forwar

onto the table, and slithered thence to th

ground.

Jerry, taking fright at the sight of thpistol Sir Richard had produced, ha

forestalled what he supposed to be th

baronet's intentions by firing instantl



upon him, with this disastrous result.

Confusion ensued. Mr. Caryll, with no

more thought for the tipstaves than he ha

for the smoke in his eyes or the stench opowder in his nostrils, sped to Si

Richard. In a passion of grief and anxiety

he raised his adoptive father, aided by

Bentley, what time Mr. Green was abusin

Jerry, and Jerry was urging in exculpation

how he had acted purely in Mr. Green'

nterest, fearing that Sir Richard mighhave been on the point of shooting him.

The spy went forward to Mr. Caryll. "

am most profoundly sorry—" he began.

"Take your sorrow to hell," snarled MrCaryll, his face livid, his eyes blazin

uncannily. "I believe ye've murdered him.

"Ecod! the fool shall smart for't if Si



Richard dies," grumbled Mr. Green.

"What's that to me? You may hang the

muckworm, and what shall that profit an

one? Will it restore me Sir Richard's lifeSend one of your ruffians for a doctor

man. And bid him hasten."

Mr. Green obeyed with alacrity. Aparfrom his regrets at this happening for it

own sake, it would suit his interests not a

all that Sir Richard should perish thus

Meanwhile, with the help of the valewho was blubbering like a child—for h

had been with Sir Richard for over te

years, and was attached to him as a dog t

ts master—they opened the woundeman's sodden waistcoat and shirt, an

reached the hurt, which was on the righ

side of the breast.



Between them they lifted him up gently

Mr. Green would have lent a hand, but

snarl from Mr. Caryll drove him back i

sheer terror, and alone those two bore thbaronet into the next room and laid him o

his bed. Here they did the little that the

could; propping him up and stemming th

bleeding, what time they waited througwhat seemed a century for the doctor'

coming, Mr. Caryll mad—stark mad fo

he time—with grief and rage.

The physician arrived at last—a smal

bird-like man under a great gray periwig

with pointed features and little eyes tha

beamed brightly behind horn-rimmespectacles.

In the ante-room he was met by Mr

Green, who in in a few words told hi



what had happened. Then the docto

entered the bedchamber alone, an

deposing hat and cane, went forward t

make his examination.Mr. Caryll and Bentley stood aside to

give place to him. He stooped, felt th

pulse, examined the lips of the wound

estimating the locality and direction of th

bullet, and his mouth made a cluckin

sound as of deprecation.

"Very deplorable, very deplorable!" hemuttered. "So hale a man, too, despite hi

years. Very deplorable!" He looked up

"A Jacobite, ye say he is, sir?"

"Will he live?" inquired Mr. Carylshortly, by way of recalling the man o

medicine to the fact that politics was no

he business on which he had bee



summoned.

The doctor pursed his lips, and looke

at Mr. Caryll over the top of hi

spectacles. "He will live—"

"Thank God!" breathed Mr. Caryll.

"—perhaps an hour," the docto

concluded, and never knew how near waMr. Caryll to striking him. He turned agai

o his patient, producing a probe. "Very

deplorable!" Mr. Caryll heard hi

muttering, parrot-like.A pause ensued, and a silence broke

only by occasional cluckings from th

ittle doctor, and Mr. Caryll stood by, a

prey to an anguish more poignant than h

had ever known. At last there was a groa

from the wounded man. Mr. Caryll started

forward.



Sir Richard's eyes were open, and h

was looking about him at the doctor, th

valet, and, lastly, at his adopted son. H

smiled faintly at the latter. Then the doctoouched Mr. Caryll's sleeve, and drew hi

aside.

"I cannot reach the bullet," he said. "Bu

tis no matter for that." He shook his hea

solemnly. "The lung has been pierced. A

ittle time now, and—I can do nothin

more."Mr. Caryll nodded in silence, his fac

drawn with pain. With a gesture h

dismissed the doctor, who went out wit

Bentley.When the valet returned, Mr. Caryl

was on his knees beside the bed, Si

Richard's hand in his, and Sir Richar



was speaking in a feeble, hoarse voice—

gasping and coughing at intervals.

"Don't—don't grieve, Justin," he wa

saying. "I am an old man. My time mushave been very near. I—I am glad that it i

hus. It is much better than if they ha

aken me. They'd ha' shown me no mercy

Tis swifter thus, and—and easier."

Silently Justin wrung the hand he held.

"You'll miss me a little, Justin," the old

man resumed presently. "We have beengood friends, lad—good friends for thirt

years."

"Father!" Justin cried, a sob in hi

voice.

Sir Richard smiled. "I would I wer

your father in more than name, Justin. Has

been a good son to me—no son coul



have been more than you."

Bentley drew nigh with a long glas

containing a cordial the doctor ha

advised. Sir Richard drank avidly, andsighed content when he returned the glass

"How long yet, Justin?" he inquired.

"Not long, father," was the gloomanswer.

"It is well. I am content. I am happy

Justin. Believe me, I am happy. What ha

my life been? Dissipated in the pursuit oa phantom." He spoke musingly, criticall

calm, as one who already upon the brin

of dissolution takes already but a

mpersonal interest in the course he harun in life.

Judging so, his judgment was cleare

han it had yet been; it grew sane, and wa



freed at last from the hackles o

fanaticism; and there was something tha

he saw in its true proportions. He sighe

heavily."This is a judgment upon me," he sai

presently. He turned his great eyes ful

upon Justin, and their dance was infinitel

wistful. "Do you remember, Justin, tha

night at your lodging—that first night o

which we talked here in London of th

hing you were come to do—the thing twhich I urged you? Do you recall how yo

upbraided me for having set you a task tha

was unworthy and revolting?"

"I remember," answered Justin, with anward shudder, fearful of what migh

follow.

"Oh, you were right, Justin; right, and



was entirely wrong—wickedly wrong.

should have left vengeance to God. He i

wreaking it. Ostermore's whole life ha

been a punishment; his end will be punishment. I understand it now. We do no

wrong in life, Justin, for which in thi

same life payment is not exacted

Ostermore has been paying. I should havbeen content with that. After all, he is you

father in the flesh, and it was not for yo

o raise your hand against him. 'Tis wha

you have felt, and I am glad you shoul

have felt it, for it proves your worthiness

Can you forgive me?"

"Nay, nay, father! Speak not oforgiveness."

"I have sore need of it."

"Ah, but not from me; not from me



What is there I should forgive? There is

debt between us I had hoped to repa

some day when you were grown truly old

had looked to tend you in your old ageo be the comfort of it, and the support tha

you were to my infancy."

"It had been sweet, Justin," sighed Si

Richard, smiling upon his adopted son

and putting forth an unsteady hand t

stroke the white, drawn face. "It had bee

sweet. It is sweet to hear that you sproposed."

A shudder convulsed him. He sank bac

coughing, and there was froth and bloo

on his lips. Reverently Justin wiped themand signed for the cordial to Bentley, who

stood, numbed, in the background.

"It is the end," said Sir Richard feebly



"God has been good to me beyond m

deserts, and this is a crowning mercy

Consider, Justin, it might have been th

gibbet and a crowd—instead of this snubed, and you and Bentley here—just tw

good friends."

Bentley, losing all self-control at thi

mention of himself, sank weeping to hi

knees. Sir Richard put out a hand, an

ouched his head.

"You will serve Mr. Caryll, BentleyYou'll find him a good master if you are a

good a servant to him as you have been t

me."

Then suddenly he made the quicmovement of one who bethinks himself o

something. He waved Bentley away.

"There is a case in the drawer yonder,



he said, when the servant was beyon

earshot. "It contains papers that concer

you—certificates of your birth and of you

mothers death. I brought them with me aproofs of your identity, against the tim

when the hour of vengeance upo

Ostermore should strike. They twill serv

no purpose now. Burn them. They are besdestroyed."

Mr. Caryll nodded understanding, and

on Sir Richard's part there followeanother fight for breath, another attack o

coughing, during which Bentle

nstinctively approached again.

When the paroxysm was past, SiRichard turned once more to Justin, wh

was holding him in his arms, upright, t

ease his breathing. "Be good to Bentley,



he murmured, his voice very faint an

exhausted now. "You are my heir, Justin

All that I have—I set all in order ere I lef

Paris. It—it is growing dark. You have nosnuffed the candles, Bentley. They ar

burning very low."

Suddenly he started forward, held as h

was in Justin's arms. He half-raised hi

arms, holding out his hands toward th

foot of the bed. His eyes dilated; th

expression of his livid face grew firssurprised, then joyous—beatific

"Antoinette!" he cried in a loud voice

"Antoi—"

And thus, abruptly, but in greahappiness, he passed.



CHAPTER XVII.

AMID THE GRAVES

What time Sir Richard had been dyin

n the inner room, Mr. Green and two ohis acolytes had improved the occasion b

making a thorough search in Sir Richard'

writing-table and a thorough investigatio

of every scrap of paper found there. Fro

which you will understand how much Mr

Green was a gentleman who set busines

above every other consideration.The man who had shot Sir Richard ha

been ordered by Mr. Green to take himsel

off, and had been urged to go down on hi

knees, for once in a way, and pray Heaven



hat his rashness might not bring him to th

gallows as he so richly deserved.

His fourth myrmidon Mr. Green had

dispatched with a note to my LorRotherby, and it was entirely upon th

answer he should receive that it mus

depend whether he proceeded or not

forthwith, to the apprehension of Mr

Caryll. Meanwhile the search went o

amain, and was extended presently to th

very bedroom where the dead Sir Richaray. Every nook and cranny wa

ransacked; the very mattress under th

dead man was removed, and investigated

and even Mr. Caryll and Bentley had tosubmit to being searched. But it all prove

fruitless. Not a line of treasonable matte

was to be found anywhere. To the

certificates upon Mr. Caryll the searche



made the mistake of paying but little hee

n view of their nature.

But if there were no proofs of plots an

reasonable dealings, there was, at leastabundant proof of Sir Richard's identity

and Mr. Green appropriated these agains

any awkward inquiries touching th

manner in which the baronet had met hi

death.

Of such inquiries, however, there wer

none. It was formally sworn to LorCarteret by Green and his men that th

secretary's messenger, Jerry—the fellow

owned no surname—had shot Sir Richar

n self-defence, when Sir Richard haproduced firearms upon being arrested o

a charge of high treason, for which the

held the secretary's own warrant.



At first Lord Carteret considered it

housand pities that they should not hav

contrived matters better so as to take Si

Richard alive; but upon reflection he wacareful not to exaggerate to himself th

oss occasioned by his death, for Si

Richard, after all, was a notoriousl

stubborn man, not in the least likely thave made any avowals worth having. S

hat his trial, whilst probably resultin

sterile of such results as the governmen

could desire, would have given publicit

o the matter of a plot that was hatching

and such publicity at a time of so muc

unrest was the last thing the governmendesired. Where Jacobitism wa

concerned, Lord Carteret had the wis

discretion to proceed with the extremes

caution. Publicity might serve to fan th



smouldering embers into a blaze, wherea

t was his cunning aim quietly to stifl

hem as he came upon them.

So, upon the whole, he was by nmeans sure but that Jerry had done th

state the best possible service i

disposing thus summarily of that notoriou

Jacobite agent, Sir Richard Everard. And

his lordship saw to it that there was n

nquiry and that nothing further was hear

of the matter.As for Lord Rotherby, had the affai

ranspired twenty-four hours earlier, h

would certainly have returned Mr. Gree

a message to effect the arrest of MrCaryll upon suspicion. But as it chanced

he had that very afternoon received a visi

from his mother, who came in grea



excitement to inform him that she ha

forced from Lord Ostermore a

acknowledgment that he was plotting wit

Mr. Caryll to go over to King James.So, before they could move furthe

against Mr. Caryll, it behooved them to

ascertain precisely to what extent Lor

Ostermore might not be incriminated, a

otherwise the arrest of Caryll might lea

o exposures that would ruin the earl mor

horoughly than could any South Sebubble revelations. Thus her ladyship t

her son. He turned upon her.

"Why, madam," said he, "these be th

very arguments I used t'other day when walked of this; and all you answered m

hen was to call me a dull-witted clod, fo

not seeing how the thing might be don



without involving my lord."

"Tcha!" snapped her ladyship, beating

her knuckles impatiently with her fan. "A

dull-witted clod did I call you? 'Twaflattery—sheer flattery; for I think ye'r

something worse. Fool, can ye not see th

difference that lies betwixt you

disclosing a plot to the secretary of state

and causing this Caryll to disclose it—a

might happen if he were seized? Firs

discover the plot—find out in what it maconsist, and then go to Lord Carteret t

make your terms."

He looked at her, out of temper by he

rebuke. "I may be as dull as your ladyshipsays—but I do not see in what the positio

now is different from what it was."

"It isn't different—but we thought it wa



different," she explained impatiently. "We

assumed that your father would not hav

betrayed himself, counting upon hi

characteristic caution. But it seems we armistook. He has betrayed himself t

Caryll. And before we can move in thi

matter, we must have proofs of a plot to

ay before the secretary of state."

Lord Rotherby understood, an

accounted himself between Scylla an

Charybdis, and when that evening Green'messenger found him, he gnashed his teet

n rage at having to allow this chance t

pass, at being forced to temporize until h

should be less parlously situated. Hreturned Mr. Green an urgent message to

ake no steps concerning Mr. Caryll unti

hey should have concerted together.



Mr. Green was relieved. Mr. Caryl

arrested might stir up matters against th

slayer of Sir Richard, and this was

business which Mr. Green had previsioenough to see his master, Lord Carteret

would prefer should not be stirred up. H

had a notion, for the rest, that if Mr. Caryl

were left to go his ways, he would not bikely to give trouble touching that sam

matter. And he was right in this. Before

his overwhelming sense of loss, Mr

Caryll had few thoughts to bestow upo

he manner in which that loss had bee

sustained. Moreover, if he had a quarre

with any one on that account, it was withe government whose representative ha

ssued the warrant for Sir Richard's arres

and no more with the wretched tipstaf

who had fired the pistol than with th



pistol itself. Both alike were bu

nstruments, of slightly different degree

of insensibility.

For twenty-four hours Mr. Caryll's griewas overwhelming in its poignancy. Hi

sense of solitude was awful. Gone was th

only living man who had stood to him fo

kith and kin. He was left alone in th

world; utterly alone. That was th

selfishness of his sorrow—th

consideration of Sir Richard's death as iconcerned himself.

Presently an alloy of consolation wa

supplied by the reflection of Sir Richard'

own case—as Sir Richard himself hastated it upon his deathbed. His life ha

not been happy; it had been poisoned by

monomania, which, like a worm in th



bud, had consumed the sweetness of hi

existence. Sir Richard was at rest. And

since he had been discovered, that sho

was, indeed, the most merciful end thacould have been measured out to him. Th

alternative might have been the gibbet an

he gaping crowd, and a moral torture t

precede the end. Better—a thousand timebetter—as it was.

So much did all this weigh with hi

hat when on the following Monday haccompanied the body to its grave, h

found his erstwhile passionate grie

succeeded by an odd thankfulness tha

hings were as they were, although it musbe confessed that a pang of returnin

anguish smote him when he heard the eart

clattering down upon the wooden box tha

held all that remained of the man who ha



been father, mother, brother and all else to

him.

He turned away at last, and was leavin

he graveyard, when some one touchehim on the arm. It was a timid touch. H

urned sharply, and found himself lookin

nto the sweet face of Hortensia Winthrop

wondering how came she there. She wor

a long, dark cloak and hood, but her vei

was turned back. A chair was waiting no

fifty paces from them along the churchyarwall.

"I came but to tell you how much I fee

for you in this great loss," she said.

He looked at her in amazement. "Howdid you know?" he asked her.

"I guessed," said she. "I heard that yo

were with him at the end, and I caugh



stray words from her ladyship of what ha

passed. Lord Rotherby had the informatio

from the tipstaff who went to arrest Si

Richard Everard. I guessed he was your—your foster-father, as you called him; and

came to tell you how deeply I sorrow fo

you in your sorrow."

He caught her hands in his and bor

hem to his lips, reckless of who might se

he act. "Ah, this is sweet and kind i

you," said he.She drew him back into the churchyar

again. Along the wall there was an avenu

of limes—a cool and pleasant wal

wherein idlers lounged on Sundays isummer after service. Thither she drew

him. He went almost mechanically. He

sympathy stirred his sorrow again, a



sympathy so often does.

"I have buried my heart yonder, I think,

said he, with a wave of his hand toward

hat spot amid the graves where the mewere toiling with their shovels. "He wa

he only living being that loved me."

"Ah, surely not," said she, sorrowrather than reproach in her gentle voice.

"Indeed, yes. Mine is a selfish grief. I

s for myself that I sorrow, for myself and

my own loneliness. It is thus with all ous. When we argue that we weep the dead

t would be more true to say that w

bewail the living. For him—it is better a

t is. No doubt it is better so for most menwhen all is said, and we do wrong t

weep their passing."

"Do not talk so," she said. "It hurts."



"Ay—it is the way of truth to hurt

which is why, hating pain, we shun trut

so often." He sighed. "But, oh, it was goo

n you to seek me, to bring me word wityour own lips of your sweet sympathy. I

aught could lighten the gloom of m

sorrow, surely it is that."

They stepped along in silence until the

came to the end of the avenue, and turned

t was no idle silence: the silence of tw

beings who have naught to say. It was grave, portentous silence, occasioned b

he unutterable much in the mind of one

and by the other's apprehension of it. A

ast she spoke, to ask him what he meano do.

"I shall return to France," he said. "I

had perhaps been better had I neve



crossed to England."

"I cannot think so," she said, simply

frankly and with no touch of a coquetr

hat had been harshly at discord with timand place.

He shot her a swift, sidelong glance

hen stopped, and turned. "I am glad on't,said he. "'Twill make my going the

easier."

"I mean not that," she cried, and hel

out her hands to him. "I meant not whayou think—you know, you know wha

twas I meant. You know—you must—

what impulse brought me to you in thi

hour, when I knew you must need comfortAnd in return how cruel, were you not—t

ell me that yonder lay buried the onl

iving being that—that loved you?"



His fingers were clenched upon he

arm. "Don't—don't!" he implore

hoarsely, a strange fire in his eyes,

hectic flush on either cheek. "Don't! Or I'lforget what I am, and take advantage o

his midsummer folly that is upon you."

"Is it no more than folly, Justin?" sh

asked him, brown eyes looking up int

gray-green.

"Ay, something more—stark madness

All great emotions are. It will pass, anyou will be thankful that I was man enoug

—strong enough—to allow it the chanc

of passing."

She hung her head, shaking isorrowfully. Then very softly: "Is it no

more than the matter of—of that, tha

stands between us?" she inquired.



"No more than that," he answered, "an

yet more than enough. I have no name t

offer any woman."

"A name?" she echoed scornfully"What store do you think I lay by that

When you talk so, you obey some foolis

prejudice; no more."

"Obedience to prejudices is the whol

art of living," he answered, sighing.

She made a gesture of impatience, an

went on. "Justin, you said you loved meand when you said so much, you gave m

he right—or so I understood it—to spea

o you as I am doing now. You are alone

n the world, without kith or kin. The onlone you had—the one who represented al

for you—lies buried there. Would you

return thus, lonely and alone, to France?"



"Ah, now I understand!" he cried. "Now

understand. Pity is the impulse that ha

urged you—pity for my loneliness, is't not

Hortensia?""I'll not deny that without the pity ther

might not have been the courage. Wh

should I—since it is a pity that gives yo

no offense, a pity that is rooted firmly in—

n love for you, my Justin?"

He set his hands upon her shoulders

and with glowing eyes regarded her. "Ahsweet!" said he, "you make me very, ver

proud."

And then his arms dropped again limpl

o his sides. He sighed, and shook hihead drearily. "And yet—reflect. When

come to beg your hand in marriage of you

guardian, what shall I answer him of th



questions he will ask me of myself—

ouching my family, my parentage and al

he rest that he will crave to know?"

She observed that he was very whitagain. "Need you enter into that? A man i

himself; not his father or his family." And

hen she checked. "You make me plead to

much," she said, a crimson flood in he

fair cheeks. "I'll say no more than I hav

said. Already have I said more than

ntended. And you have wanted mercy thayou could drive me to it. You know my

mind—my—my inmost heart. You know

hat I care nothing for your namelessness

t is yours to decide what you will doCome, now; my chair is staying for me."

He bowed; he sought again to conve

some sense of his appreciation of he



great nobility; then led her through the gat

and to her waiting chair.

"Whatever I may decide, Hortensia

was the last thing he said to her, "and shall decide as I account best for you

rather than for myself; and for myself ther

needs no thought or hesitation—whateve

may decide, believe me when I say fro

my soul that all my life shall be th

sweeter for this hour."



CHAPTER XVIII.

THE GHOST OF THE

PAST

Temptation had seized Mr. Caryll in a

hrottling grip, and for two whole days h

kept the house, shunning all company an

wrestling with that same Temptation. Inhe end he took a whimsical resolve

entirely worthy of himself.

He would go to Lord Ostermor

formally to ask in marriage the hand o

Mistress Winthrop, and he would b

entirely frank with the earl, stating hi

exact condition, but suppressing the name



of his parents.

He was greatly taken with the notion. I

would create a situation ironical beyon

any, grotesque beyond belief; and itdevelopment should be stupendousl

nteresting. It attracted him irresistibly

That he should leave it to his own father t

say whether a man born as he was bor

might aspire to marry his father's ward

had in it something that savored of tragi

comedy. It was a pretty problem, that oncset could not be left unsolved by a man o

Mr. Caryll's temperament. And, indeed, n

sooner was the idea conceived than i

quickened into a resolve upon which hset out to act.

He bade Leduc call a chair, and

dressed in mourning, but with his habitua



care, he had himself carried to Lincoln'

nn Fields.

Engrossed as he was in his ow

houghts, he paid little heed to the hum oexcitement about the threshold of Stretto

House. Within the railed enclosure tha

fronted the mansion two coaches wer

drawn up, and a little knot of idlers stoo

by one of these in busy gossip.

Paying no attention to them, Mr. Caryl

mounted the steps, nor noticed the gravitof the porter's countenance as he passe

within.

In the hall he found a little flock o

servants gathered together, and mutterinamong themselves like conspirators in

ragedy; and so engrossed that they pai

no heed to him as he advanced, nor unti



he had tapped one of them on the shoulde

with his cane—and tapped him a though

peremptorily.

"How now?" said he. "Does no onwait here?"

They fell apart a little, and stood a

attention, with something curious in theibearing, one and all.

"My service to his lordship, and sa

hat I desire to speak with him."

They looked at one another in hesitatiofor a moment; then Humphries, the butler

came forward. "Your honor'll not have

heard the news?" said he, a solemn gravit

n face and tone.

"News?" quoth Mr. Caryll sharply

ntrigued by so much show of mystery

"What news?"



"His lordship is very ill, sir. He had

seizure this morning when they came fo

him."

"A seizure?" said Mr. Caryll. And then"When they came for him?" he echoed

struck by something odd in the man'

utterance of those five words. "When wh

came for him?"

"The messengers, sir," replied th

butler dejectedly. "Has your honor no

heard?" And seeing the blank look on MrCaryll's face, he proceeded withou

waiting for an answer: "His lordship wa

mpeached yesterday by his Grace o

Wharton on a matter concerning the SoutSea Company, and Lord Carteret—th

secretary of state, your honor—sent thi

morning to arrest him."



"'Sdeath!" ejaculated Mr. Caryll in hi

surprise, a surprise that was tempere

with some dismay. "And he had a seizure

ye say?""An apoplexy, your honor. The doctor

are with him now; Sir James, himself, i

here. They're cupping him—so I hear fro

Mr. Tom, his lordship's man. I'd ha

hought your honor would ha' heard. 'Ti

own talk, they say."

Mr. Caryll would have found it difficulo have said exactly what impression thi

news made upon him. In the main

however, he feared it left him cold.

"'Tis very regrettable," said he. He felhoughtful a moment. Then: "Will you send

word to Mistress Winthrop that I am here

and would speak with her, Humphries?"



Humphries conducted Mr. Caryll to th

ittle white and gold withdrawing-roo

hat was Hortensia's. There, in the littl

ime that he waited, he revolved thsituation as it now stood, and th

emptation that had been with him for th

past three days rose up now with a greate

vigor. Should Lord Ostermore dieTemptation argued, he need no longe

hesitate. Hortensia would be as muc

alone in the world as he was; worse, fo

ife at Stretton House with her ladyship—

from which even in the earl's lifetime sh

had been led to attempt to escape—mus

be a thing unbearable, and whaalternative could he suggest but that sh

should become his wife?

She came to him presently, white-faced

and with startled eyes. As she took hi



outstretched hands, she attempted a smile

"It is kind in you to come to me at such

ime," she said.

"You mistake," said he, "as is bunatural. I had not heard what had befallen

came to ask your hand in marriage of hi

ordship."

Some faint color tinged her cheeks

"You had decided, then?"

"I had decided that his lordship mus

decide," he answered."And now?"

"And now it seems we must decide fo

ourselves if his lordship dies."Her mind swung to the graver matter

"Sir James has every hope," she said, an

added miserably: "I know not which t

pray for, his recovery or his death."



"Why that?"

"Because if he survive it may be fo

worse. The secretary's agent is even now

seeking evidence against him among hiown papers. He is in the library at thi

moment, going through his lordship'

desk."

Mr. Caryll started. That mention o

Ostermore's desk brought vividly befor

his mind the recollection of the secre

drawer wherein the earl had locked awahe letter he had received from Kin

James and his own reply, all packed as i

was, with treason. If that drawer wer

discovered, and those papers found, thewas Ostermore lost indeed, and did h

survive this apoplexy, it would be to

surrender his head upon the scaffold.



A moment he considered this

dispassionately. Then it broke upon hi

mind that were this to happen, Ostermore'

blood would indirectly be upon his owhead, since for the purpose of betrayal ha

he sought him out with that letter from th

exiled Stuart—which, be it remembered

King James himself had no longer wishedelivered.

It turned him cold with horror. He coul

not remain idle and let matters run theicourse. He must avert these discoveries i

t lay within his power to do so, or else h

must submit to a lifetime of remors

should Ostermore survive to be attainteof treason. He had made an end—

definite end—long since of his intention o

working Ostermore's ruin; he could no

stand by now and see that ruin wrought a



a result of the little that already he ha

done towards encompassing it.

"His papers must be saved," he sai

shortly. "I'll go to the library at once."

"But the secretary's agent is ther

already," she repeated.

"'Tis no matter for that," said hemoving towards the door. "His des

contains that which will cost him his hea

f discovered. I know it," he assured her

and left her cold with fear."But, then, you—you?" she cried. "Is i

rue that you are a Jacobite?"

"True enough," he answered."Lord Rotherby knows it," she informe

him. "He told me it was so. If—if yo

nterfere in this, it—it may mean you

ruin." She came to him swiftly, a grea



fear written or her winsome face.

"Sh," said he. "I am not concerned t

hink of that at present. If Lord Ostermor

perishes through his connection with thcause, it will mean worse than ruin for m

—though not the ruin that you are thinkin

of."

"But what can you do?"

"That I go to learn."

"I will come with you, then."

He hesitated a moment, looking at her

hen he opened the door, and held it fo

her, following after. He led the way

across the hall to the library, and thewent in together.

Lord Ostermore's secretaire stoo

open, and leaning over it, his bac

owards them was a short, stiffly-buil



man in a snuff-colored coat. He turned a

he sound of the closing door, and

revealed the pleasant, chubby face of Mr

Green."Ha!" said Mr. Caryll. "Mr. Green

again. I declare, sir, ye've the gift o

ubiquity."

The spy stood up to regard him, and fo

all that his voice inclined to sharpnes

when he spoke, the habitual grin sat like

mask upon the mobile features. "What d'yseek here?"

"Tis what I was about to ask you—wha

you are seeking; for that you seek is plain

thought perhaps I might assist you."

"I nothing doubt you could," answere

Mr. Green with a fresh leer, that contained

his time something ironic. "I nothin



doubt it! But by your leave, I'll pursue m

quest without your assistance."

Mr. Caryll continued, nevertheless, to

advance towards him, Mistress Hortensiremaining in the background, a quie

spectator, betraying nothing of th

anxieties by which she was being racked.

"Ye're mighty curt this morning, Mr

Green," said Mr. Caryll, very airy. "Ye're

mighty curt, and ye're entirely wrong so t

be. You might find me a very usefufriend."

"I've found you so before," said Mr

Green sourly.

"Ye've a nice sense of humor," said Mr

Caryll, head on one side, contemplatin

he spy with admiration in his glance.

"And a nicer sense of a Jacobite,



answered Mr. Green.

"He will have the last word, yo

perceive," said Mr. Caryll to Hortensia.

"Harkee, Mr. Caryll," quoth Mr. Green

quite grimly now. "I'd ha' laid you by th

heels a month or more ago, but for certai

friends o' mine who have other ends tserve."

"Sir, what you tell me shocks me. I

shakes the very foundations of my faith i

human nature. I have esteemed you ahonest man, Mr. Green, and it seems—o

your own confessing—that ye're no bette

han a damned rogue who neglects his dut

o the state. I've a mind to see LorCarteret, and tell him the truth of th

matter."

"Ye shall have an opportunity before



ong, ecod!" said Mr. Green. "Good

morning to you! I've work to do." And h

urned back to the desk.

"'Tis wasted labor," said Mr. Caryllproducing his snuff-box, and tapping i

"You might seek from now till the crack o

doom, and not find what ye seek—no

hough you hack the desk to pieces. It has

secret, Mr. Green. I'll make a bargain wit

you for that secret."

Mr. Green turned again, and hishrewd, bright eyes scanned more closel

hat lean face, whose keenness was al

dissembled now in an easy, languid smile

"A bargain?" grumbled the spy. "I' faithhen, the secret's worthless."

"Ye think that? Pho! 'Tis not like your

usual wit, Mr. Green. The letter that



carried into England, and that you were a

such splendid pains to find at Maidstone

s in here." And he tapped the veneered

op of the secretaire with his forefinger"But ye'll not find it without my help. It i

concealed as effectively—as effectivel

as it was upon my person when y

searched me. Now, sir, will ye treat withme? It'll save you a world of labor."

Mr. Green still looked at him. H

icked his lips thoughtfully, cat-like"What terms d'ye make?" he inquired, bu

his tone was very cold. His busy brai

was endeavoring to conjecture wha

exactly might be Mr. Caryll's object in thifrankness which Mr. Green was not foo

enough to believe sincere.

"Ah," said Mr. Caryll. "That is more th



man I know." He tapped his snuff-box, and

n that moment memory rather tha

nspiration showed him the thing h

needed. "Did ye ever see 'The ConstanCouple,' Mr. Green?" he inquired.

"'The Constant Couple'?" echoed Mr

Green, and though mystified, he must ai

his little jest. "I never saw any couple tha

was constant—leastways, not for long."

"Ha! Ye're a roguish wag! But 'The

Constant Couple' I mean is a play.""Oh, a play! Ay, I mind me I saw i

some years ago, when 'twas first acted

But what has that to do with—"

"Ye'll understand in a moment," said

Mr. Caryll, with a smile the spy did no

relish. "D'ye recall a ruse of Sir Harr

Wildairs to rid himself of the company o



an intrusive old fool who was not wanted

D'ye remember what 'twas he did?"

Mr. Green, his head slightly on on

side, was watching Mr. Caryll verclosely, and not without anxiety. "I don't,

said he, and dropped a hand to the pocke

where a pistol lay, that he might b

prepared for emergencies. "What did h

do?"

"I'll show you," said Mr. Caryll. "H

did this." And with a swift upwardmovement, he emptied his snuff-box ful

nto the face of Mr. Green.

Mr. Green leapt back, with a scream o

pain, hands to his eyes, and quitunconsciously set himself to play to th

ife the part of the intrusive old fellow i

he comedy. Dancing wildly about th



room, his eyes smarting and burning s

hat he could not open them, he bellowe

of hell-fire and other hot things of whic

he was being so intensely reminded."'Twill pass," Mr. Caryll consoled him

"A little water, and all will be well with

you." He stepped to the door as he spoke

and flung it open. "Ho, there! Who waits?

he called.

Two or three footmen sprang to answe

him. He took Mr. Green, still blind andvociferous, by the shoulders, and thrus

him into their care. "This gentleman ha

had a most unfortunate accident. Get hi

water to wash his eyes—warm water. SoTake him. 'Twill pass, Mr. Green. 'Twill

soon pass, I assure you."

He shut the door upon them, locked it



and turned to Hortensia, smiling grimly

Then he crossed quickly to the desk, an

Hortensia followed him. He sat down, an

pulled out bodily the bottom drawer on thright inside of the upper part of the desk

as he had seen Lord Ostermore do tha

day, a little over a week ago. He thrust hi

hand into the opening, and felt along thsides for some moments in vain. He wen

over the ground again slowly, inch b

nch, exerting constant pressure, until h

was suddenly rewarded by a click. Th

small trap disclosed itself. He pulled i

up, and took some papers from the recess

He spread them before him. They were thdocuments he sought—the king's letter t

Ostermore, and Ostermore's reply, signed

and ready for dispatch. "These must b

burnt," he said, "and burnt at once, for tha



fellow Green may return, or he may sen

others. Call Humphries. Get a taper fro

him."

She sped to the door, and did hibidding. Then she returned. She wa

plainly agitated. "You must go at once,

she said, imploringly. "You must return to

France without an instant's delay."

"Why, indeed, it would mean my ruin to

remain now," he admitted. "And yet—

He held out his hands to her."I will follow you," she promised him

"I will follow you as soon as his lordship

s recovered, or—or at peace."

"You have well considered

sweetheart?" he asked her, holding her to

him, and looking down into her gentl

eyes.



"There is no happiness for me apar

from you."

Again his scruples took him. "Tell Lord

Ostermore—tell him all," he begged her"Be guided by him. His decision for yo

will represent the decision of the world."

"What is the world to me? You are theworld to me," she cried.

There was a rap upon the door. He pu

her from him, and went to open. It wa

Humphries with a lighted taper. He toot, thanked the man with a word, and shu

he door in his face, ignoring the fact tha

he fellow was attempting to tell hi

something.

He returned to the desk. "Let us mak

quite sure that this is all," he said, an

held the taper so that the light shone int



he recess. It seemed empty at first; then

as the light penetrated farther, he saw

something that showed white at the bac

of the cachette. He thrust in his hand, andrew out a small package bound with

ribbon that once might have been green bu

was faded now to yellow. He set it on th

desk, and returned to his search. Therwas nothing else. The recess was empty

He closed the trap and replaced th

drawer. Then he sat down again, the tape

at his elbow, Mistress Winthrop looking

on, facing him across the top of th

secretaire, and he took up the package.

The ribbon came away easily, and somhalf-dozen sheets fell out and scattere

upon the desk. They gave out a curiou

perfume, half of age, half of some essenc

with which years ago they had bee



mbued. Something took Mr. Caryll in th

hroat, and he could never explain whethe

t was that perfume or some premonitor

emotion, some prophetic apprehension owhat he was about to see.

He opened the first of those folde

sheets, and found it to be a letter written i

French and in an ink that had paled t

yellow with the years that were gone sinc

t had been penned. The fine, pointe

writing was curiously familiar to MrCaryll. He looked at the signature at th

bottom of the page. It swam before hi

eyes—ANTOINETTE-"Celle qui l'adore

Antoinette," he read, and the whole worlseemed blotted out for him; al

consciousness, his whole being, his ever

sense, seemed concentrated into his eye

as they gazed upon that relic of a delude



woman's dream.

He did not read. It was not for him t

commit the sacrilege of reading what tha

girl who had been his mother had writtehirty years ago to the man she loved—th

man who had proved false as hell.

He turned the other letters over; openehem one by one, to make sure that the

were of the same nature as the first, an

what time he did so he found himsel

speculating upon the strangeness oOstermore's having so treasured them

Perhaps he had thrust them into that secre

recess, and there forgotten them; 'twas a

explanation that sorted better with whaMr. Caryll knew of his father, than the

supposition that so dull and practical an

self-centered a nature could have bee



rradiated by a gleam of such tendernes

as the hoarding of those letters might hav

argued.

He continued to turn them over, halfmechanically, forgetful of the urgent need

o burn the treasonable documents he ha

secured, forgetful of everything, eve

Hortensia's presence. And meantime sh

watched him in silence, marvelling at thi

delay, and still more at the gray look tha

had crept into his face."What have you found?" she asked a

ast.

"A ghost," he answered, and his voic

had a strained, metallic ring. He evevented an odd laugh. "A bundle of old

ove-letters."

"From her ladyship?"



"Her ladyship?" He looked up, a

expression on his face which seemed t

show that he could not at the moment thin

who her ladyship might be. Then as thpicture of that bedaubed, bedizened an

harsh-featured Jezebel arose in his min

o stand beside the sweet girl—image o

his mother—as he knew her from thportrait that hung at Maligny—he laughe

again. "No, not from her ladyship," sai

he. "From a woman who loved him year

ago." And he turned to the seventh and las

of those poor ghosts-the seventh, a fatefu

number.

He spread it before him; frowned dowon it a moment with a sharp hiss o

ndrawn breath. Then he twisted oddly o

his chair, and sat bolt upright, starin

straight before him with unseeing eyes



Presently he passed a hand across hi

brow, and made a queer sound in hi

hroat.

"What is it?" she asked.

But he did not answer; he was staring a

he paper again. A while he sat thus; then

with swift fevered fingers he took up oncmore the other letters. He unfolded one

and began to read. A few lines he read

and then—"O God!" he cried, and flun

out his arms under stress of 'his emotionsOne of them caught the taper that stoo

upon the desk; and swept it, extinguished

o the floor. He never heeded it, neve

gave a thought to the purpose for which ihad been fetched, a purpose not ye

served. He rose. He was white as th

dead are white, and she observed that h



was trembling. He took up the bundle o

old letters, and thrust them into an insid

pocket of his coat.

"What are you doing?" she criedseeking at last to arouse him from the spel

under which he appeared to have fallen

"Those letters—"

"I must see Lord Ostermore," h

answered wildly, and made for the door

reeling like a drunkard in his walk.



CHAPTER XIX. THE

END OF LORD

OSTERMORE

In the ante-room communicating wit

Lord Ostermore's bedroom the countes

was in consultation with Rotherby, who

had been summoned by his mother whemy lord was stricken.

Her ladyship occupied the window

seat; Rotherby stood beside her, leanin

slightly against the frame of the ope

window. Their conversation was earnes

and conducted in a low key, and on

would naturally have conjectured that i



had for subject the dangerous condition o

he earl. And so it had—the dangerou

condition of the earl's political, if no

physical, affairs. To her ladyship and heson, the matter of their own future was o

greater gravity than the matter of whethe

his lordship lived or died—which

whatever it may be, is not unreasonableSince the impeachment of my lord and th

coming of the messengers to arrest him

he danger of ruin and beggary wer

become more imminent—indeed, the

mpended, and measures must b

concerted to avert these evils. B

comparison with that, the earl'succumbing or surviving was a trivia

matter; and the concern they ha

manifested in Sir James' news—when th

mportant, well-nourished physician wh



had bled his lordship came to inform the

hat there was hope—was outward only

and assumed for pure decorum's sake.

"Whether he lives or dies," said thviscount pertinently, after the doctor had

departed to return to his patient, "th

measures to be taken are the same." And

he repeated the substance of their earlie

discussions upon this same topic. "If w

can but secure the evidence of his treaso

with Caryll," he wound up, "I shall bable to make terms with Lord Carteret t

arrest the proceedings the government ma

ntend, and thus avert the restitution i

would otherwise enforce.""But if he were to die," said he

adyship, as coldly, horribly calculating a

hough he were none of hers, "there woul



be an end to this danger. They could no

demand restitution of the dead, nor impos

fines upon him."

Rotherby shook his head. "Believe nohat, madam," said he. "They can deman

restitution of his heirs and impose thei

fines upon the estate. 'Twas done in the

case of Chancellor Craggs, though he sho

himself."

She raised a haggard face to his. "An

do you dream that Lord Carteret woulmake terms with you?"

"If I can show him—by actual proof—

hat a conspiracy does exist, that the Stuar

supporters are plotting a rising. Proof ohat should be of value to Lord Carteret, o

sufficient value to the government t

warrant the payment of the paltry price



ask—that the impeachment against m

father for his dealings with the South Se

Company shall not be allowed.

"But it might involve the worse betrayaof your father, Charles, and if he were to

ive—"

"'Sdeath, mother, why must you harp onhat? I a'n't the fool you think me," h

cried. "I shall make it a further conditio

hat my father have immunity. There wil

be no lack of victims once the plot idisclosed; and they may begin upon tha

coxcomb Caryll—the damned meddle

who is at the bottom of all this garboil."

She sat bemused, her eyes upon thsunlit gardens below, where a faint breez

was stirring the shrub tops.

"There is," she said presently, "a secre



drawer somewhere in his desk. If he ha

papers they will, no doubt, be there. Ha

you not best be making search for them?"

He smiled darkly. "I have seen to thaalready," he replied.

"How?" excitedly. "You have got the

papers?""No; but I have set an experienced han

o find them, and one, moreover, who ha

he right by virtue of his warrant—th

messenger of the secretary of state."She sat up, rigid. "'Sdeath! What is't y

mean?"

"No need for alarm," he reassured her"This fellow Green is in my pay, as wel

as in the secretary's, and it will profit hi

most to keep faith with me. He's a self

seeking dog, content to run with the har



and hunt with the hounds, so that there b

profit in it, and he'd sacrifice his ears t

bring Mr. Caryll to the gallows. I hav

promised him that and a thousand poundf we save the estates from confiscation."

She looked at him, between wonder an

fear. "Can ye trust him?" she asked

breathlessly.

He laughed softly and confidently. "

can trust him to earn a thousand pounds,

he answered. "When he heard of thmpeachment, he used such influence as h

has to be entrusted with the arrest of hi

ordship; and having obtained his warrant

he came first to me to tell me of it. Ahousand pounds is the price of him, bod

and soul. I bade him seek not onl

evidence of my lord's having received tha



plaguey stock, but also papers relating t

his Jacobite plot into which his lordshi

has been drawn by our friend Caryll. H

s at his work at present. And I shall heafrom him when it is accomplished."

She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "You

have very well disposed, Charles," sh

approved him. "If your father lives, i

should not be a difficult matter—"

She checked suddenly and turned, whil

Rotherby, too, looked up and steppedquickly from the window-embrasur

where he had stood.

The door of the bedroom had bee

suddenly pulled open, and Sir James camout, very pale and discomposed.

"Madam—your ladyship—my lord!" h

gasped, his mouth working, his hand



waving foolishly.

The countess rose to confront him, tal

severe and harsh. The viscount scowled

question. Sir James quailed before themevidently in affliction.

"Madam—his lordship," he said, an

by his eloquent gesture of dejectioannounced what he had some difficulty i

putting into words.

She stepped forward, and took him b

he wrist. "Is he dying?" she inquired."Have courage, madam," the docto

besought her.

The apparent irrelevancy of the requesat such a moment, angered her. Her mood

was dangerously testy. And had the docto

but known it, sympathy was a thing sh

had not borne well these many years.



"I asked you was he dying," sh

reminded him, with a cold sternness tha

beat aside all his attempts at subterfuge.

"Your ladyship—he is dead," hefaltered, with lowered eyes.

"Dead?" she echoed dully, and her hand

went to the region of her heart, her facurned livid under its rouge. "Dead?" sh

said again, and behind her, Rotherb

echoed the dread word in a stupor almos

equal to her own. Her lips moved tspeak, but no words came. She staggere

where she stood, and put her hand to he

brow. Her son's arms were quickly abou

her. He supported her to a chair, whereshe sank as if all her joints were loosened

Sir James flew for restoratives; bathe

her brow with a dampened handkerchief



held strong salts to her nostrils, an

murmured words of foolish, bana

consolation, whilst Rotherby, in a half

dreaming condition, stunned by thsuddenness of the blow, stood beside her

mechanically lending his assistance an

supporting her.

Gradually she mastered her agitation. I

was odd that she should feel so much a

osing what she valued so little

Leastways, it would have been odd, had ibeen that. It was not—it was somethin

more. In the awful, august presence o

death, stepped so suddenly into thei

midst, she felt herself appalled.For nigh upon thirty years she had bee

bound by legal and churchly ties in

oveless union with Lord Ostermore—



married for the handsome portion that ha

been hers, a portion which he had game

away and squandered until, for thei

station, their circumstances were nowabsolutely straitened. They had led

harsh, discordant life, and the coming of

son, which should have bridged th

oveless gulf between them, seemed but thave served to dig it wider. And the son

had been just the harsh, unfeeling offsprin

hat might be looked for from such a union

Thirty years of slavery had been he

adyship's, and in those thirty years he

nature had been soured and warped, an

what inherent sweetness it may once havknown had long since been smothered an

destroyed. She had no cause to love tha

man who had never loved her, neve

oved aught of hers beyond her jointure



And yet, there was the habit of thirt

years. For thirty years they had been yoke

fellows, however detestable the yoke. Bu

yesterday he had been alive and strong, stupid, querulous thing maybe, but

iving. And now he was so much carrio

hat should be given to the earth. In som

such channel ran her ladyship's reflectionduring those few seconds in which sh

was recovering. For an instant she wa

softened. The long-since dried-up spring

of tenderness seemed like to push anew

under the shock of this event. She put out

hand to take her son's.

"Charles!" she said, and surprised hiby the tender note.

A moment thus; then she was hersel

again. "How did he die?" she asked th



doctor; and the abruptness of th

resumption of her usual manner startle

Sir James more than aught in hi

experience of such scenes."It was most sudden, madam,

answered he. "I had the best grounds fo

hope. I was being persuaded we shoul

save him. And then, quite suddenly

without an instant's warning, h

succumbed. He just heaved a sigh, an

was gone. I could scarcely believe msenses, madam."

He would have added more particular

of his feelings and emotions—for he wa

of those who believe that their owmpressions of a phenomenon are tha

phenomenon's most interestin

manifestations—but her ladyship wave



him peremptorily into silence.

He drew back, washing his hands in th

air, an expression of polite concern upo

his face. "Is there aught else I can do to bof service to your ladyship?" he inquired

solicitous.

"What else?" she asked, with a fullereturn to her old self. "Ye've killed him

What more is there you can do?"

"Oh, madam—nay, madam! I am mos

deeply grieved that my—my—""His lordship will wait upon you to th

door," said she, designating her son.

The eminent physician effaced himselfrom her ladyship's attention. It was hi

boast that he could take a hint when on

was given him; and so he could, provide

t were broad enough, as in the presen



nstance.

He gathered up his hat and gold-heade

cane—the unfailing insignia of his orde

—and was gone, swiftly and silently.

Rotherby closed the door after him, an

returned slowly, head bowed, to th

window where his mother was stilseated. They looked at each other gravel

for a long moment.

"This makes matters easier for you,

she said at length."Much easier. It does not matter now

how far his complicity may be betrayed b

his papers. I am glad, madam, to see yo

so far recovered from your weakness."

She shivered, as much perhaps at hi

one as at the recollections he evoked

"You are very indifferent, Charles," said



she.

He looked at her steadily, then slightl

shrugged. "What need to wear a mask

Bah! Did he ever give me cause to feel fohim?" he asked. "Mother, if one day I hav

a son of my own, I shall see to it that h

oves me."

"You will be hard put to it, with you

nature, Charles," she told him critically

Then she rose. "Will you go to him wit

me?" she asked.He made as if to acquiesce, then halted

"No," he said, and there was repugnanc

n his tone and face. "Not—not now."

There came a knocking at the door

rapid, insistent. Grateful for th

nterruption, Rotherby went to open.

Mr. Green staggered forward wit



swollen eyes, his face inflamed with rage

and with something else that was not quit

apparent to Rotherby.

"My lord!" he cried in a loud, angrvoice.

Rotherby caught his wrist and checke

him. "Sh! sir," he said gravely. "Not here.And he pushed him out again, her ladyship

following them.

It was in the gallery—above the hall, i

which the servants still stood idly about—hat Mr. Green spattered out his wrathfu

ale of what had befallen in the library.

Rotherby shook him as if he had been

rat. "You cursed fool!" he cried. "You lef

him there—at the desk?"

"What help had I?" demanded Gree

with spirit. "My eyes were on fire.



couldn't see, and the pain of them made m

helpless."

"Then why did ye not send word to m

at once, you fool?"

"Because I was concerned only to sto

my eyes from burning," answered Mr

Green, in a towering rage at findinreproof where he had come in quest o

sympathy. "I have come to you at the firs

moment, damn you!" he burst out, in ful

rebellion. "And you'll use me civilly nowhat I am come, or—ecod!—it'll be th

worse for your lordship."

Rotherby considered him through a fain

mist that rage had set before his eyes. Tobe so spoken to—damned indeed!—by

dirty spy! Had he been alone with the man

here can be little doubt but that he woul



have jeopardized his very precariou

future by kicking Mr. Green downstairs

But his mother saved him from tha

rashness. It may be that she saw somethinof his anger in his kindling eye, an

hought it well to intervene.

She set a hand on his sleeve. "Charles!

she said to him in a voice that was dea

cold with warning.

He responded to it, and chos

discretion. He looked Green overnevertheless. "I vow I'm very patient wit

you," said he, and Green had th

discretion on his side to hold his tongue

"Come, man, while we stand talking herhat knave may be destroying preciou

evidence."

And his lordship went quickly down th



stairs, Mr. Green following hard upon hi

heels, and her ladyship bringing up th

rear.

At the door of the library Rotherbcame to a halt, and turned the handle. Th

door was locked. He beckoned a coupl

of footmen across the hall, and bade the

break it open.



CHAPTER XX. Mr.

CARYLL'S

IDENTITY

"I must see Lord Ostermore!" had bee

Mr. Caryll's wild cry, as he strode to the

door.

From the other side of it there came sound of steps and voices. Some one wa

urning the handle.

Hortensia caught Mr. Caryll by thsleeve. "But the letters!" she crie

frantically, and pointed to th

ncriminating papers which he had left

forgotten, upon the desk.



He stared at her a moment, and memor

swept upon him in a flood. He mastere

he wild agitation that had been swayin

him, thrust the paper that he was carryinnto his pocket, and turned to go back fo

he treasonable letters.

"The taper!" he exclaimed, and pointe

o the extinguished candle on the floor

"What can we do?"

A sharp blow fell upon the lock of th

door. He stood still, looking over hishoulder.

"Quick! Make haste!" Hortensi

admonished him in her excitement. "Ge

hem! Conceal them, at least! Do the besyou can since we have not the means t

burn them."

A second blow was struck, succeeded



nstantly by a third, and something wa

heard to snap. The door swung open, an

Green and Rotherby sprang into the room

a brace of footmen at their heels. Thewere followed more leisurely by th

countess; whilst a little flock of servant

brought up the rear, but checked upon th

hreshold, and hung there to witness eventhat held out such promise of bein

unusual.

Mr. Caryll swore through set teeth, andmade a dash for the desk. But he was to

ate to accomplish his object. His han

had scarcely closed upon the letters, whe

he was, himself, seized. Rotherby anGreen, on either side of him, held him i

heir grasp, each with one hand upon hi

shoulder and the other at his wrist. Thu

stood he, powerless between them, and



after the first shock of it, cool and makin

no effort to disengage himself. His righ

hand was tightly clenched upon the letters

Rotherby called a servant forward"Take those papers from the thief's hand,

he commanded.

"Stop!" cried Mr. Caryll. "LordRotherby, may I speak with you alon

before you go further in a matter you wil

bitterly regret?"

"Take those papers from him,Rotherby repeated, swearing; and th

servant bent to the task. But Mr. Caryl

suddenly wrenched the hand away fro

he fellow and the wrist out of LorRotherby's grip.

"A moment, my lord, as you value you

honor and your possessions!" he insisted



"Let me speak with Lord Ostermore first

Take me before him."

"You are before him now," said

Rotherby. "Say on!"

"I demand to see Lord Ostermore."

"I am Lord Ostermore," said Rotherby.

"You? Since when?" said Mr. Caryllnot even beginning to understand.

"Since ten minutes ago," was th

callous answer that first gave tha

household the news of my lord's passing.

There was a movement, a mutterin

among the servants. Old Humphries brok

hrough the group by the door, his heavchops white and trembling, and in tha

moment Hortensia turned, awe-stricken, t

ask her ladyship was this true. He

adyship nodded in silence. Hortensi



cried out, and sank to a chair as if beate

down by the news, whilst the old servant

answered, too, withdrew, wringing hi

hands and making foolish laments; and thears of those were the only tears tha

watered the grave of John Caryll, fift

Earl of Ostermore.

As for Mr. Caryll, the shock of tha

announcement seemed to cast a spell upo

him. He stood still, limp and almos

numbed. Oh, the never-ceasing irony ohings! That his father should have died a

such a moment.

"Dead?" quoth he. "Dead? Is my lor

dead? They told me he was recovering.""They told you false," answere

Rotherby. "So now—those papers!"

Mr. Caryll relinquished them. "Take



hem," he said. "Since that is so—tak

hem."

Rotherby received them himself

"Remove his sword," he bade a footman.

Mr. Caryll looked sharply round at him

"My sword?" quoth he. "What do yo

mean by that? What right?""We mean to keep you by us, sir," said

Mr. Green on his other side, "until you

have explained what you were doing wit

hose papers—what is your interest ihem."

Meanwhile a servant had done hi

ordship's bidding, and Mr. Caryll stood

weaponless amid his enemies. H

mastered himself at once. Here it wa

plain that he must walk with caution, fo

he ground, he perceived, was of a sudde



grown most insecure and treacherous

Rotherby and Green in league! It gave hi

matter for much thought.

"There's not the need to hold me," saihe quietly. "I am not likely to tire mysel

by violence. There's scarcely necessity fo

so much."

Rotherby looked up sharply. The cool

self-possessed tone had an intimidatin

note. But Mr. Green laughed maliciously

as he continued to mop his still waterineyes. He was acquainted with Mr. Caryll'

methods, and knew that, probably, th

more at ease he seemed, the less at eas

he was.Rotherby spread the letters on the desk

and scanned them with a glowing eye, Mr

Green at his elbow reading with him. Th



countess swept forward that she, too

might inspect this find.

"They'll serve their turn," said her son

and added to Caryll: "And they'll help thang you."

"No doubt you find me mentioned i

hem," said Mr. Caryll."Ay, sir," snapped Green, "if not by

name, at least as the messenger who is t

explain that which the writers—the roya

writer and the other—have out oprudence seen fit to exclude."

Hortensia looked up and across th

room at that, a wild fear clutching at he

heart. But Mr. Caryll laughed pleasantly

eyebrows raised as if in mild surprise

"The most excellent relations appear t

prevail between you," said he, lookin



from Rotherby to Green. "Are you, too, m

ord, in the secretary's pay."

His lordship flushed darkly. "You'l

clown it to the end," he sneered.

"And that's none so far off," snarled Mr

Green, who since the peppering of hi

eyes, had flung aside his usual cherubiair. "Oh, you may sneer, sir," he mocked

he prisoner. "But we have you fast. Thi

etter was brought hither by you, and thi

one was to have been carried hence byou."

"The latter, sir, was a matter for the

future, and you can hardly prove what

man will do; so we'll let that pass. As fohe former—the letter which you say

brought—you'll remember that yo

searched me at Maidstone—"



"And I have your admission that th

etter was upon you at the time," roare

he spy, interrupting him—"you

admission in the presence of that lady, ashe can be made to witness."

Mistress Winthrop rose. "'Tis a lie,

she said firmly. "I can not be made to

witness."

Mr. Caryll smiled, and nodded acros

o her. "'Tis vastly kind in you, Mistres

Winthrop. But the gentleman is mistook.He turned to Green. "Harkee, sirrah did

admit that I had carried that letter?"

Mr. Green shrugged. "You admitted tha

you carried a letter. What other letteshould it have been but that?"

"Nay," smiled Mr. Caryll. "'Tis not for

you to ask me. Rather is it for you to prov



hat the letter I admitted having carrie

and that letter are one and the same. 'Twil

ake a deal of proving, I dare swear."

"Ye'll be forsworn, then," put in headyship sourly. "For I can witness to th

etter that you bore. Not only did I see it—

a letter on that same fine paper—in m

husband's hands on the day you came her

and during your visit, but I have hi

ordship's own word for it that he was i

he plot and that you were the gobetween."

"Ah!" chuckled Mr. Green. "What now

sir? What now? By what fresh piece o

acrobatics will you get out of that?""Ye're a fool," said Mr. Caryll with

calm contempt, and fetched out his snuff

box. "D'ye dream that one witness wil



suffice to establish so grave a charge

Pah!" He opened his snuff-box to find i

empty, and viciously snapped down th

id again. "Pah!" he said again, "ye've cosme a whole boxfull of Burgamot."

"Why did ye throw it in my face?

demanded Mr. Green. "What purpose did

ye look to serve but one of treason

Answer me that!"

"I didn't like the way ye looked at me

Twas wanting respect, and I bethought mewould lessen the impudence of you

expression. Have ye any other foolis

questions for me?" And he looked agai

from Green to Rotherby, including both ihis inquiry. "No?" He rose. "In that case

f you'll give me leave, and—"

"You do not leave this house," Rotherb



nformed him.

"I think you push hospitality too far

Will you desire your lackey to return m

my sword? I have affairs elsewhere."

"Mr. Caryll, I beg that you wil

understand," said his lordship, with

calm that he was at some pains tmaintain, "that you do not leave this hous

save in the care of the messengers fro

he secretary of state."

Mr. Caryll looked at him, and yawnedn his face. "Ye're prodigiously tiresome,

said he, "did ye but know how I detes

disturbances. What shall the secretary o

state require of me?"

"He'll require you on a charge of hig

reason," said Mr. Green.

"Have you a warrant to take me?"



"I have not, but—"

"Then how do you dare detain me, sir?

demanded Mr. Caryll sharply. "D'ye think

don't know the law?"

"I think you'll know a deal more of i

shortly," countered Mr. Green.

"Meanwhile, sirs, I depart. Offer mviolence at your peril." He moved a step

and then, at a sign from Rotherby, th

ackey's hands fell on him again, an

forced him back and down into his chair."Away with you for the warrant," said

Rotherby to Green. "We'll keep him here

ill you return."

Mr. Green grinned at the prisoner, and

was gone in great haste.

Mr. Caryll lounged back in his chair

and threw one leg over the other. "I hav



always endeavored," said he, "to suffe

fools as gladly as a Christian should. S

since you insist, I'll be patient until I hav

he ear of my Lord Carteret—who, I takt, is a man of sense. But if I were you, m

ord, and you, my lady, I should not insist

Believe me, you'll cut poor figures. As fo

you, my lord, ye're in none such gooodor, as it is."

"Let that be," snarled his lordship.

"If I mention it at all, I but do so in youordship's own interests. It will b

remembered that ye attempted to murde

me once, and that will not be of any grea

help to such accusations as you may brinagainst me. Besides which, there is th

unfortunate circumstance that it's widel

known ye're not a man to be believed."



"Will you be silent?" roared hi

ordship, in a towering passion.

"If I trouble myself to speak at all, it i

out of concern for your lordship," MrCaryll insisted sweetly. "And in your ow

nterest, and your ladyship's, too, I'

counsel you to hear me a moment withou

witnesses."

His tone was calculatedly grave. Lor

Rotherby looked at him, sneering; not s

her ladyship. Less acquainted with hiways, the absolute confidence an

unconcern of his demeanor was causin

her uneasiness. A man who was perilousl

entrammelled would not bear himself seasily, she opined. She rose, and crossed

o her son's side.

"What have you to say?" she asked Mr



Caryll.

"Nay, madam," he replied, "not befor

hese." And he indicated the servants.

"'Tis but a pretext to have them out o

he room," said Rotherby.

Mr. Caryll laughed the notion to scorn

"If you think that—I give you my word ohonor to attempt no violence, nor to depar

until you shall give me leave," said he.

Rotherby, judging Mr. Caryll by hi

knowledge of himself, still hesitated. Buher ladyship realized, in spite of he

detestation of the man, that he was not o

he temper of those whose word is to b

doubted. She signed to the footmen.

"Go," she bade them. "Wait within

call."

They departed, and Mr. Caryl



remained seated for all that her ladyship

was standing; it was as if by that h

wished to show how little he was minde

o move.Her ladyship's eye fell upon Hortensia

"Do you go, too, child," she bade her.

Instead, Hortensia came forward. "wish to remain, madam," she said.

"Did I ask you what you wished?

demanded the countess.

"My place is here," Hortensiexplained. "Unless Mr. Caryll should

himself, desire me to depart."

"Nay, nay," he cried, and smiled uponher fondly—so fondly that the countess'

eyes grew wider. "With all my heart,

desire you to remain. It is most fitting yo

should hear that which I have to say."



"What does it mean?" demande

Rotherby, thrusting himself forward, and

scowling from one to the other of them

"What d'ye mean, Hortensia?""I am Mr. Caryll's betrothed wife," sh

answered quietly.

Rotherby's mouth fell open, but he madno sound. Not so her ladyship. A peal o

shrill laughter broke from her. "La! Wha

did I tell you, Charles?" Then t

Hortensia: "I'm sorry for you, ma'am,said she. "I think ye've been a thought to

ong in making up your mind." And sh

aughed again.

"Lord Ostermore lies above stairs,Hortensia reminded her, and her ladyship

went white at the reminder, the indecency

of her laughter borne in upon her.



"Would ye lesson me, girl?" she cried

as much to cover her confusion as to ven

her anger at the cause of it. "Ye've an odd

daring, by God! Ye'll be well matchedwith his impudence, there."

Rotherby, singularly self-contained

recalled her to the occasion.

"Mr. Caryll is waiting," said he, a snee

n his voice.

"Ah, yes," she said, and flashing a las

malignant glance upon Hortensia, she sano a chair beside her, but not too near her.

Mr. Caryll sat back, his legs crossed

his elbows on his chair-arms, his finger

ips together. "The thing I have to tell you

s of some gravity," he announced by wa

of preface.

Rotherby took a seat by the desk, hi



hand upon the treasonable letters

"Proceed, sir," he said, importantly. Mr

Caryll nodded, as in acknowledgment o

he invitation."I will admit, before going further, tha

n spite of the cheerful countenance

maintained before your lordship's friend

he bumbailiff, and your lackeys,

recognize that you have me in a ver

dangerous position."

"Ah!" from his lordship in a breath osatisfaction, and

"Ah!" from Hortensia in a gasp o

apprehension.

Her ladyship retained a ston

countenance, and a silence that sorte

excellently with it.

"There is," Mr. Caryll proceeded



marking off the points on his fingers, "th

ncident at Maidstone; there is you

adyship's evidence that I was the beare

of just such a letter on the day that first came here; there is the dangerou

circumstance—of which Mr. Green, I a

sure, will not fail to make a deal—of m

ntimacy with Sir Richard Everard, anmy constant visits to his lodging, where

was, in fact, on the occasion when he me

his death; there is the fact that I committe

upon Mr. Green an assault with my snuf

box for motives that, after all, admit of bu

one acceptable explanation; and, lastly

here is the circumstance that, apparentlyf interrogated, I can show no good reaso

why I should be in England at all, wher

no apparent interest has called me o

keeps me.



"Now, these matters are so trivial tha

aken separately they have no valu

whatever; taken conjointly, their value i

not great; they do not contain evidencenough to justify the hanging of a dog. And

yet, I realize that disturbed as the time

are, fearful of sedition as the governmen

finds itself in consequence of the mischiedone to public credit by the South Se

disaster, and ready as the ministry is to

see plots everywhere and to mak

examples, pour discourager les autres, i

he accusation you intend is laid agains

me, backed by such evidence as this, it i

not impossible—indeed, it is nomprobable—that it may—ah—tend t

shorten my life."

"Sir," sneered Rotherby, "I declare you

should have been a lawyer. We haven't a



pleader of such parts and such lucidity a

he whole bar."

Mr. Caryll nodded his thanks. "You

praise is very flattering, my lord," said hewith a wry smile, and then proceeded: "I

s because I see my case to be so ver

nearly desperate, that I venture to hop

you will not persevere in the course yo

are proposing to adopt."

Lord Rotherby laughed noiselessly

"Can you urge me any reasons why wshould not?"

"If you could urge me any reasons wh

you should," said Mr. Caryll, "no doubt

should be able to show you under whamisapprehensions you are laboring." H

shot a keen glance at his lordship, whos

face had suddenly gone blank. Mr. Caryl



smiled quietly. "There is in this somethin

hat I do not understand," he resumed. "I

does not satisfy me to suppose, as at firs

might seem, that you are acting out osheer malice against me. You have

scarcely cause to do that, my lord; an

you, my lady, have none. That fool Gree

—patience—he conceives that he hasuffered at my hands. But without you

assistance Mr. Green would be powerles

o hurt me. What, then, is it that is movin

you?"

He paused, looking from one to th

other of his declared enemies. The

exchanged glances—Hortensia watchinhem, breathless, her own mind working

oo, upon this question that Mr. Caryll had

set, yet nowhere finding an answer.



"I had thought," said her ladyship a

ast, "that you promised to tell u

something that it was in our interest t

hear. Instead, you appear to be askinquestions."

Mr. Caryll shifted in his chair. One

glance he gave the countess, then smiled

"I have sought at your hands the reason

why you should desire my death," said h

slowly. "You withhold them. Be it so.

ake it that you are ashamed of them; anso, their nature is not difficult t

conjecture."

"Sir—" began Rotherby, hotly, half

starting from his seat."Nay, let him trundle on, Charles," said

his mother. "He'll be the sooner done."

"Instead," proceeded Mr. Caryll, as i



here had been no interruption, "I will now

urge you my reasons why you should no

so proceed."

"Ha!" snapped Rotherby. "They wilneed to be valid."

Mr. Caryll twisted farther round, to

face his lordship more fully. "They are avalid," said he very impressively—s

mpressively and sternly that his hearer

felt themselves turning cold under hi

words, filled with some mysteriouapprehension. "They are as valid as wer

my reasons for holding my hand in th

field out yonder, when I had you at th

mercy of my sword, my lord. Neithemore nor less. From that, you may judg

hem to be very valid."

"But ye don't name them," said he



adyship, attempting to conquer he

uneasiness.

"I shall do so," said he, and turne

again to his lordship. "I had no cause tove you that morning, nor at any time, m

ord; I had no cause to think—as even yo

n your heart must realize, if so be that yo

have a heart, and the intelligence t

examine it—I had no cause to think, m

ord, that I should be doing other than

good deed by letting drive my blade. Thasuch an opinion was well founded wa

proven by the thing you did when I turne

my back upon you after sparing you

useless life."Rotherby broke in tempestuously

smiting the desk before him. "If you thin

o move us to mercy by such—"



"Oh, not to mercy would I move you,

said Mr. Caryll, his hand raised to stay th

other, "not to mercy, but to horror of the

hing you contemplate." And then, in aoddly impressive manner, he launched hi

hunderbolt. "Know, then, that if tha

morning I would not spill your blood, i

was because I should have been spillinhe same blood that flows in my ow

veins; it was because you are my brother

because your father was my father. N

ess than that was the reason that withhel

my hand."

He had announced his aim of movin

hem to horror; and it was plain that hhad not missed it, for in frozen horror sa

hey all, their eyes upon him, their cheek

ashen, their mouths agape—eve

Hortensia, who from what already Mr



Caryll had told her, understood now mor

han any of them.

After a spell Rotherby spoke. "You are

my brother?" he said, his voice colorless"My brother? What are you saying?"

And then her ladyship found her voice

"Who was your mother?" she inquiredand her very tone was an insult, not to th

man who sat there so much as to th

memory of poor Antoinette de Maligny

He flushed to the temples, then paleagain.

"I'll not name her to your ladyship,

said he at, last, in a cold, imperious voice

"I'm glad ye've so much decency," sh

countered.

"You mistake, I think," said he. "'Tis

respect for my mother that inspires me.



And his green eyes flashed upon th

painted hag. She rose up a very fury.

"What are you saying?" she shrilled

"D'ye hear the filthy fellow, RotherbyHe'll not name the wanton in my presenc

out of respect for her."

"For shame, madam! You are speakingof his mother," cried Hortensia, hot wit

ndignation.

"Pshaw! 'Tis all an impudent lie—

pack of lies!" cried Rotherby. "He's craftas all the imps of hell."

Mr. Caryll rose. "Here in the sight o

God and by all that I hold most sacred,

swear that what I have said is true.

swear that Lord Ostermore—your fathe

—was my father. I was born in France, i

he year 1690, as I have papers upon m



hat will prove, which you may see

Rotherby."

His lordship rose. "Produce them," sai

he shortly.

Mr. Caryll drew from an inner pocke

of his coat the small leather case that Si

Richard Everard had given him. From thihe took a paper which he unfolded. It wa

a certificate of baptism, copied from th

register of the Church of St. Antoine i

Paris.Rotherby held out his hand for it. Bu

Mr. Caryll shook his head. "Stand her

beside me, and read it," said he.

Obeying him, Rotherby went and rea

hat authenticated copy, wherein it wa

declared that Sir Richard Everard ha

brought to the Church of St. Antoine fo



baptism a male child, which he ha

declared to be the son of John Caryl

Viscount Rotherby, and Antoinette de

Maligny, and which had received ibaptism the name of Justin.

Rotherby drew away again, his hea

sunk on his breast. Her ladyship wa

seated, her eyes upon her son, her finger

drumming absently at the arms of he

chair. Then Rotherby swung round again.

"How do I know that you are the persodesignated there—this Justin Caryll?"

"You do not; but you may. Cast you

mind back to that night at White's whe

you picked your quarrel with me, my lordDo you remember how Stapleton an

Collis spoke up for me, declared that the

had known me from boyhood at Oxford



and had visited me at my chateau i

France? What was the name of tha

chateau, my lord—do you remember?"

Rotherby looked at him, searching himemory. But he did not need to search far

At first glance the name of Maligny ha

seemed familiar to him. "It was Maligny,

he replied, "and yet—"

"If more is needed to convince you,

can bring a hundred witnesses fro

France, who have known me from infancyYou may take it that I can establish my

dentity beyond all doubt."

"And what if you do?" demanded he

adyship suddenly. "What if you doestablish your identity as my lord'

bastard? What claim shall that be upo

us?"



"That, ma'am," answered Mr. Caryl

very gravely, "I wait to learn from my

brother here."



CHAPTER XXI. THE

LION'S SKIN

For a spell there was utter silence i

hat spacious, pillared chamber. MrCaryll and her ladyship had both resume

heir chairs: the former spuriously calm

he latter making no attempt to conceal he

agitation. Hortensia leant forward, a

eager spectator, watching the three actor

n this tragicomedy.

As for Rotherby, he stood with benhead and furrowed brow. It was for him to

speak, and yet he was utterly at a loss fo

words. He was not moved at the news h

had received, so much as dismayed. I



dictated a course that would interfere wit

all his plans, and therefore a cours

unthinkable. So he remained puzzled how

o act, how to deal with this unexpectesituation.

It was her ladyship who was the first t

break the silence. She had bee

considering Mr. Caryll through narrowin

eyes, the corners of her mouth draw

down. She had caught the name of Malign

when it was uttered, and out of thknowledge which happened to be hers—

hough Mr. Caryll was ignorant of this—i

set her thinking.

"I do not believe that you are the son oMademoiselle de Maligny," she said a

ast. "I never heard that my lord had a son

cannot believe there was so muc



between them."

Mr. Caryll stared, startled out of hi

habitual calm. Rotherby turned to her wit

an exclamation of surprise. "How?" hcried. "You knew, then? My father was—

She laughed mirthlessly. "Your fathe

would have married her had he dared,she informed them. "'Twas to beg hi

father's consent that he braved hi

banishment and came to England. But hi

father was as headstrong as himself; helust such views as he, himself, held late

where you were concerned. He would no

hear of the match. I was to be had for th

asking. My father was a man who traden his children, and he had offered me

with a jointure that was a fortune, to th

Earl of Ostermore as a wife for his son."



Mr. Caryll was listening, all ears. Som

ight was being shed upon much that ha

ain in darkness.

"And so," she proceeded, "yougrandfather constrained your father t

forget the woman he had left in France

and to marry me. I know not what sins

had committed that I should have bee

visited with such a punishment. But so i

befell. Your father resisted, dallying with

he matter for a whole year. Then therwas a duel fought. A cousin o

Mademoiselle de Maligny's crossed t

England, and forced a quarrel upon you

father. They met, and M. de Maligny wakilled. Then a change set in in my lord'

bearing, and one day, a month or so later

he gave way to his father's insistence, an

we were wed. But I do not believe that m



ord had left a son in France—I do no

believe that had he done so, I should no

have known it; I do not believe that unde

such circumstances, unfeeling as he washe would have abandoned Mademoisell

de Maligny."

"You think, then," said Rotherby, "tha

his man has raked up this story to—"

"Consider what you are saying," cut i

Mr. Caryll, with a flash of scorn. "Should

have come prepared with documentagainst such a happening as this?"

"Nay, but the documents might hav

been intended for some other purpose ha

my lord lived—some purpose oextortion," suggested her ladyship.

"But consider again, madam, that I a

wealthy—far wealthier than was ever m



Lord Ostermore, as my friends Collis

Stapleton and many another can be calle

o prove. What need, then, had I t

extort?""How came you by your means, bein

what you say you are?" she asked him.

Briefly he told her how Sir RicharEverard had cared for him, for hi

mother's sake; endowed him richly upo

adopting him, and since made him heir t

all his wealth, which was considerable"And for the rest, madam, and you

Rotherby, set doubts on one side. Your

adyship says that had my lord had a so

you must have heard of it. But my lordmadam, never knew he had a son. Tell me

—can you recall the date, the month a

east, in which my lord returned t



England?"

"I can, sir. It was at the end of April o

89. What then?"

Mr. Caryll produced the certificat

again. He beckoned Rotherby, and held

he paper under his eyes. "What date i

here—the date of birth?"Rotherby read: "The third of January o

1690."

Mr. Caryll folded the paper again

"That will help your ladyship tunderstand how it might happen that m

ord remained in ignorance of my birth.

He sighed as he replaced the case in hi

pocket. "I would he had known before h

died," said he, almost as if speaking t

himself.

And now her ladyship lost her temper



She saw Rotherby wavering, and i

angered her; and angered, she committed

grave error. Wisdom lay in maintaining

he attitude of repudiation; it would aeast have afforded some excuse for he

and Rotherby. Instead, she now recklessl

flung off that armor, and went naked dow

nto the fray.

"A fig for't all!" she cried, and snapped

her fingers. She had risen, and sh

owered there, a lean and malevolenfigure, her head-dress nodding foolishly

"What does it matter that you be what yo

claim to be? Is it to weigh with you

Rotherby?"Rotherby turned grave eyes upon her

He was, it seemed, not quite rotten throug

and through; there was still in him—in th



depths of him—a core that was in

measure sound; and that core was reached

Most of all had the story weighed wit

him because it afforded the onlexplanation of why Mr. Caryll had spared

his life that morning of the duel. It was

matter that had puzzled him, as it ha

puzzled all who had witnessed the affronhat led to the encounter.

Between that and the rest—to sa

nothing of the certificate he had seenwhich he could not suppose a forgery—h

was convinced that Mr. Caryll was th

brother that he claimed to be. He gathere

from his mother's sudden anger that sheoo, was convinced, in spite of herself, b

he answers Mr. Caryll had returned to al

her arguments against the identity h

claimed.



He hated Mr. Caryll no whit less fo

what he had learnt; if anything, he hate

him more. And yet a sense of decenc

forbade him from persecuting him now, ahe had intended, and delivering to th

hangman. From ordinary murder, once i

he heat of passion—as we have seen—h

had not shrunk. But fratricide appeared—such is the effect of education—a far, fa

graver thing, even though it should b

ndirect fratricide of the sort that he ha

contemplated before learning that this ma

was his brother.

There seemed to be one of two onl

courses left him: to provide Mr. Carylwith the means of escape, or else t

withhold such evidence as he intended t

supply against him, and to persuade—t

compel, if necessary—his mother to d



he same. When all was said, his interest

need not suffer very greatly. His positio

would not be quite so strong, perhaps, i

he but betrayed a plot without deliverinup any of the plotters; still, he thought, i

should be strong enough. His father dead

out of consideration of the signal loyalt

his act must manifest, he thought thgovernment would prove grateful an

forbear from prosecuting a claim fo

restitution against the Ostermore estates.

He had, then, all but resolved upon th

cleaner course, when, suddenly, somethin

hat in the stress of the moment he ha

gone near to overlooking, was urged upohis attention.

Hortensia had risen and had starte

forward at her ladyship's last words. Sh



stood before his lordship now wit

pleading eyes, and hands held out. "M

ord," she cried, "you cannot do this thing

You cannot do it!"But instead of moving him t

generosity, by those very words sh

steeled his heart against it, and proved t

him that, after all, his potentialities fo

evil were strong enough to enable him t

do the very thing she said he could not

His brow grew black as midnight; his dareyes raked her face, and saw the agony o

apprehension for her lover written there

He drew breath, hissing and audible

glanced once at Caryll; then: "A moment!said he.

He strode to the door and called th

footmen, then turned again.



"Mr. Caryll," he said in a formal voice

"will you give yourself the trouble o

waiting in the ante-room? I need t

consider upon this matter."Mr. Caryll, conceiving that it was wit

his mother that Rotherby intended t

consider, rose instantly. "I would remind

you, Rotherby, that time is pressing," said

he.

"I shall not keep you long," wa

Rotherby's cold reply, and Mr. Carylwent out.

"What now, Charles?" asked hi

mother. "Is this child to remain?"

"It is the child that is to remain," sai

his lordship. "Will your ladyship do m

he honor, too, of waiting in the ante

room?" and he held the door for her.



"What folly are you considering?" sh

asked.

"Your ladyship is wasting time, and

ime, as Mr. Caryll has said, is pressing."

She crossed to the door, controlled

almost despite herself by the calm air o

purpose that was investing him. "You arenot thinking of—"

"You shall learn very soon of what I am

hinking, ma'am. I beg that you will give u

eave."She paused almost upon the threshold

"If you do a rashness, here, remember tha

can still act without you," she reminde

him. "You may choose to believe that tha

man is your brother, and so, out of that

and"—she added with a cruel sneer a

Hortensia—"other considerations, yo



may elect to let him go. But remember tha

you still have me to reckon with. Whethe

he prove of your blood or not, he canno

prove himself of mine—thank God!"His lordship bowed in silence

preserving an unmoved countenance

whereupon she cursed him for a fool, an

passed out. He closed the door, and turned

he key, Hortensia watching him in a sor

of horror. "Let me go!" she found voice to

cry at last, and advanced towards the dooherself. But Rotherby came to meet her

his face white, his eyes glowing. She fel

away before his opening arms, and h

stood still, mastering himself."That man," he said, jerking a backwar

humb at the closed door, "lives or dies

goes free or hangs, as you shall decide



Hortensia."

She looked at him, her face haggard, he

heart beating high in her throat as if t

suffocate her. "What do you mean?" shasked.

"You love him!" he growled. "Pah!

see it in your eyes—in your tremors—thayou do. It is for him that you are afraid, is

not?"

"Why do you mock me with it?" sh

nquired with dignity."I do not mock you, Hortensia. Answe

me! Is it true that you love him?"

"It is true," she answered steadily"What is't to you?"

"Everything!" he answered hotly

"Everything! It is Heaven and Hell to me

Ten days ago, Hortensia, I asked you to



marry me—"

"No more," she begged him, an ar

hrown out to stay him.

"But there is more," he answered

advancing again. "This time I can make th

offer more attractive. Marry me, an

Caryll is not only free to depart, but nevidence shall be laid against him.

swear it! Refuse me, and he hangs a

surely—as surely as you and I tal

ogether here this moment."Cold eyes scathed him with contempt

"God!" she cried. "What manner o

monster are you, my lord? To speak so—

o speak of marriage to me, and to speaof hanging a man who is son to that sam

father of yours who lies above stairs, no

yet turned cold. Are you human at all?"



"Ay—and in nothing so human as in my

ove for you, Hortensia."

She put her hands to her face. "Give m

patience!" she prayed. "The insult of iafter what has passed! Let me go, sir; ope

hat door, and let me go."

He stood regarding her a moment, witowering brows. Then he turned, and wen

slowly to the door. "He dies, remember!

said he, and the words, the sinister ton

and the sinister look that was stampeupon his face, shattered her spirit as at

blow.

"No, no!" she faltered, and advanced

step or two. "Oh, have pity!"

"When you show me pity," h

answered.

She was beaten. "You—you swear to



et him go—to see him safely out o

England—if—if I consent?"

His eyes blazed. He came back swiftly

and she stood, a frozen thing, passivelawaiting him; a frozen thing, she let hi

ake her in his arms, yielding herself i

horrific surrender.

He held her close a moment, the bloo

surging to his face, and glowing darkl

hrough the swarthy skin. "Have

conquered, then?" he cried. "You'll marryme, Hortensia?"

"At that price," she answered piteously

"at that price."

"Shalt find me a gentle, loving husband

ever. I swear it before Heaven!" h

vowed, the ardor of his passion softenin

his nature, as steel is softened in the fire.



"Then be it so," she said, and her ton

was less cold, for she began to glow, as i

were, with the ardor of the sacrifice tha

she was making—began to experience thexalted ecstasy of martyrdom. "Save him

and you shall find me ever a dutiful wif

o you, my lord—a dutiful wife."

"And loving?" he demanded greedily.

"Even that. I promise it," she answered

With a hoarse cry, he stooped to kis

her; then, with an oath, he checked, anflung her from him so violently that sh

hurtled to a chair and sank to it

overbalanced. "No," he roared, like a ma

hing now. "Hell and damnation—no!"

A wild frenzy of jealousy had swep

aside his tenderness. He was sick an

faint with the passion of it of this proof o



how deeply she must love that other man

He strove to control his violence. H

snarled at her, in his endeavors to subdu

he animal, the primitive creature that hwas at heart. "If you can love him so muc

as that, he had better hang, I think." H

aughed on a high, fierce note. "You have

spoke his sentence, girl! D'ye think I'd takyou so—at second hand? Oh, s'death

What d'ye deem me?"

He laughed again—in his throat now, quivering; half-sobbing laugh of anger—

and crossed to the door, her eye

following him, terrified; her min

understanding nothing of this savage. Hurned the key, and flung wide the doo

with a violent gesture. "Bring him in!" h

shouted.



They entered—Mr. Caryll with th

footmen at his heels, a frown between hi

brows, his eyes glancing quickly an

searchingly from Rotherby to HortensiaAfter him came her ladyship, no les

nquisitive of look. Rotherby dismisse

he lackeys, and closed the door again. H

flung out an arm to indicate Hortensia.

"This little fool," he said to Caryl

"would have married me to save you

ife."Mr. Caryll raised his brows. The word

relieved his fears. "I am glad, sir, that you

perceive she would have been a fool to d

so. You, I take it, have been fool enough trefuse the offer."

"Yes, you damned play-actor! Yes!" he

hundered. "D'ye think I want anothe



man's cast-offs?"

"That is an overstatement," said Mr

Caryll. "Mistress Winthrop is no cast-of

of mine."

"Enough said!" snapped Rotherby. H

had intended to say much, to do som

mighty ranting. But before Mr. Caryll'cold half-bantering reduction of facts t

heir true values, he felt himself robbed o

words. "You hang!" he ended shortly.

"Ye're sure of that?" questioned MrCaryll.

"I would I were as sure of Heaven."

"I think you may be—just about asure," Mr. Caryll rejoined, entirel

unperturbed, and he sauntered forwar

owards Hortensia. Rotherby and hi

mother watched him, exchanging glances.



Then Rotherby shrugged and sneered

"'Tis his bluster," said he. "He'll be a

farceur to the end. I doubt he's half

witted."Mr. Caryll never heeded him. He wa

bending beside Hortensia. He took he

hand, and bore it to his lips. "Sweet," h

murmured, "'twas a treason that yo

ntended. Have you, then, no faith in me

Courage, sweetheart, they cannot hurt me.

She clutched his hands, and looked unto his eyes. "You but say that to comfor

me!" she cried.

"Not so," he answered gravely. "I tel

you no more than what is true. They thinhey hold me. They will cheat, and lie an

swear falsely to the end that they ma

destroy me. But they shall have their pain



for nothing."

"Ay—depend upon that," Rotherby

mocked him. "Depend upon it—to th

gallows."

Mr Caryll's curious eyes smiled upo

his brother, but his lips wer

contemptuous. "I am of your own bloodRotherby—your brother," he said again

"and once already out of tha

consideration I have spared your life—

because I would not have a brother'blood upon my hands." He sighed, an

continued: "I had hoped that you ha

enough humanity to do the same. I deplor

hat you should lack it; but I deplore it foyour own sake, because, after all, you ar

my brother. Apart from that, it matter

nothing to me."



"Will it matter nothing when you ar

proved a Jacobite spy?" cried he

adyship, enraged beyond endurance b

his calm scorn of them. "Will it mattenothing when it is proved that you carrie

hat letter, and would have carried tha

other—that you were empowered to trea

n your exiled master's name? Will thamatter nothing?"

He looked at her an instant, then, as i

utterly disdaining to answer her, he turnedagain to Rotherby. "I were a fool and

blind, did I not see to the bottom of thi

urbid little puddle upon which you thin

o float your argosies. You are selling meYou are to make a bargain with the

government to forbear the confiscation

your father has incurred out o

consideration of the service you ca



render by disclosing this plot, and yo

would throw me in as something tangibl

—in earnest of the others that may follow

Have I sounded the depths of your intent?"And if you have—what then?

demanded sullen Rotherby.

"This, my lord," answered Mr. Carylland he quoted: "'The man that once di

sell the lion's skin while the beast lived

was killed with hunting him. Remembe

hat!"'They looked at him, impressed by th

ringing voice in which he had spoken-

voice in which the ring was of mingle

mockery and exultation. Then her ladyshipshook off the impression, and laughed.

"With what d'ye threaten us?" she asked

contemptuously.



"I—threaten, ma'am? Nay, I a

ncapable of threatening. I do not threaten

have reasoned with you, exhorted you

shown you cause why, had you one sparof decency left, you would allow me t

depart and shield me from the law yo

have invoked to ruin me. I have hoped fo

your own sakes that you would be moveso to do. But since you will not—" H

paused and shrugged. "On your own head

be it."

"On our own heads be what?

demanded Rotherby.

But Mr. Caryll smiled, and shook hi

head. "Did you know all, it might indeenfluence your decision; and I would no

have that happen. You have chosen, have

you not, Rotherby? You will sell me; you



will hang me—me, your father's son. Poo

Rotherby! From my soul I pity you!"

"Pity me? Death! You impudent rogue

Keep your pity for those that need it."

"That is why I offer it you, Rotherby,

said Mr. Caryll, almost sadly. "In all my

ife, I have not met a man who stood morsorely in need of it, nor am I ever like t

meet another."

There was a movement without, a tap a

he door; and Humphries entered tannounce Mr. Green's return

accompanied by Mr. Second Secretar

Templeton, and without waiting for more

he ushered them into the room.



CHAPTER XXII. THE

HUNTERS

To the amazement of them all, there

entered a tall gentleman in a full-bottomewig, with a long, pale face, a resolut

mouth, and a pair of eyes that were keen

yet kindly. Close upon the heels of th

second secretary came Mr. Green

Humphries withdrew, and closed th

door.

Mr. Templeton made her ladyship aow bow.

"Madam," said he very gravely, "I offe

your ladyship—and you, my lord—m



profoundest condolence in th

bereavement you have suffered, and m

scarcely less profound excuses for thi

ntrusion upon your grief."Mr. Templeton may or may not have

reflected that the grief upon which h

deplored his intrusion was none s

apparent.

"I had not ventured to do so," h

continued, "but that your lordship seeme

o invite my presence.""Invited it, sir?" questioned Rotherb

with deference. "I should scarcely hav

presumed so far as to invite it."

"Not directly, perhaps," returned th

second secretary. His was a deep, ric

voice, and he spoke with grea

deliberateness, as if considering wel



each word before allowing it utterance

"Not directly, perhaps; but in view of you

message to Lord Carteret, his lordship ha

desired me to come in person to inquirnto this matter for him, before proceedin

farther. This fellow," indicating Green

"brought information from you that

Jacobite—an agent of James Stuart—ibeing detained here, and that your lordshi

has a communication to make to th

secretary of state."

Rotherby bowed his assent. "All

desired that Mr. Green should do

meanwhile," said he, "was to procure

warrant for this man's arrest. Mrevelations would have followed that. Ha

he the warrant?"

"Your lordship may not be aware," said



Mr. Templeton, with an increased

precision of diction, "that of late so man

plots have been disclosed and hav

proved in the end to be no plots at all, thahis lordship has resolved to proceed now

with the extremest caution. For it is no

held desirable by his majesty tha

publicity should be given to such matteruntil there can be no doubt that they ar

susceptible to proof. Talk of them i

disturbing to the public quiet, and there i

already disturbance enough, as i

unfortunately happens. Therefore, it i

deemed expedient that we should mak

quite sure of our ground beforproceeding to arrests."

"But this plot is no sham plot," crie

Rotherby, with the faintest show of heat

out of patience with the other'



deliberateness. "It is a very real danger

as I can prove to his lordship."

"It is for the purpose of ascertaining tha

fact," resumed the second secretaryentirely unruffled, "for the purpose o

ascertaining it before taking any steps tha

would seem to acknowledge it, that m

Lord Carteret has desired me to wait upo

you—that you may place me in possessio

of the circumstances that have come t

your knowledge."Rotherby's countenance betrayed hi

growing impatience. "Why, for that matter

t has come to my knowledge that a plot i

being hatched by the friends of the Stuarand that a rising is being prepared, th

present moment being considere

auspicious, while the people's confidenc



n the government is shaken by the lat

South Sea Company disaster."

Mr. Templeton wagged his head gently

"That, sir—if you will permit thobservation—is the preface of all th

disclosures that have lately been made t

us. The consolation, sir, for his majesty'

friends, has been that in no case did th

subsequent matter make that prefac

good."

"It is in that particular, then, that mdisclosures shall differ from those others,

said Rotherby, in a tone that caused Mr

Templeton afterwards to describe him a

"a damned hot fellow.""You have evidence?"

"Documentary evidence. A letter from

he Pretender himself amongst it."



A becoming gravity overspread Mr

Templeton's clear-cut face. "That would

be indeed regrettable," said he. It wa

plain that whatever the second secretarmight display when the plot was disclose

o him, he would display none of tha

satisfaction upon which Rotherby ha

counted. "To whom, sir, let me ask, is thietter indited?"

"To my late father," answered his

ordship.Mr. Templeton made an exclamation

whose significance was not quite clear.

"I have discovered it since his death,

continued Rotherby. "I was but in time towrest it from the hands of that spy of th

Pretender's, who was in the act o

destroying it when I caught him. M



devotion to his majesty made my cours

clear, sir—and I desired Mr. Green to

procure a warrant for this traitor's arrest."

"Sir," said Mr. Templeton, regardinghim with an eye in which astonishmen

was blent with admiration, "this is ver

oyal in you—very loyal under the—ah—

peculiar circumstances of the affair. I do

not think that his majesty's government

considering to whom this letter wa

addressed, could have censured you evehad you suppressed it. You have

conducted yourself, my lord—if I ma

venture upon a criticism of your lordship'

conduct—with a patriotism worthy of thbest models of ancient Rome. And I a

assured that his majesty's government wil

not be remiss in signifying appreciation o

his very lofty loyalty of yours."



Lord Rotherby bowed low, i

acknowledgment of the compliment. He

adyship concealed a cynical smile unde

cover of her fan. Mr. Caryll—standing ihe background beside Hortensia's chair—

smiled, too, and poor Hortensia, detectin

his smile, sought to take comfort in it.

"My son," interposed the countess, "is,

am sure, gratified to hear you so commen

his conduct."

Mr. Templeton bowed to her with agreat politeness. "I should be a stone

ma'am, did I not signify my—ah—

appreciation of it."

"There is a little more to follow, sir,put in Mr. Caryll, in that quiet manner o

his. "I think you will find it blunt the edg

of his lordship's lofty loyalty—cause it t



savor less like the patriotism of Rome

and more like that of Israel."

Mr. Templeton turned upon him a face

of cold displeasure. He would havspoken, but that whilst he was seekin

words of a becoming gravity, Rotherb

forestalled him.

"Sir," he exclaimed, "what I did, I did

hough my ruin must have followed.

know what this traitor has in mind. H

magines I have a bargain to make. Buyou must see, sir, that in no sense is it so

for, having already surrendered the facts

t is too late now to attempt to sell them.

am ready to yield up the letters that I havfound. No consideration could induce m

o do other; and yet, sir, I venture to hop

hat in return, the government will b



pleased to see that I have some claim upo

my country's recognition for the signa

service I am rendering her—and i

rendering which I make a holocaust of mfather's honor."

"Surely, surely, sir," murmured Mr

Templeton, but his countenance told of a

essening enthusiasm in his lordship'

Roman patriotism. "Lord Carteret, I a

sure, would never permit so much—ah—

devotion to his majesty to gunrewarded."

"I only ask, sir—and I ask it for th

sake of my father's name, which stands i

unavoidable danger of being smirched—hat no further shame be heaped upon i

han that which must result from the horro

with which the discovery of this plot wil



nspire all right-thinking subjects."

Mr. Caryll smiled and nodded. H

udged in a detached spirit—a mer

spectator at a play—and he was forced tadmit to himself that it was subtly done o

his brother, and showed an astuteness i

his thing, at least, of which he had neve

supposed him capable.

"There is, sir," Rotherby proceeded

"the matter of my father's dealings with th

South Sea Company. He is no longer alivo defend himself from the accusations—

from the impeachment which has bee

evelled against him by our enemy, th

Duke of Wharton. Therefore, it might bpossible to make it appear as if hi

dealings were—ah—not—ah—quite suc

as should befit an upright gentleman



There is that, and there is this greate

matter against him. Between the two,

should never again be able to look m

fellow-countrymen in the face. Yet this ihe more important since the safety of th

kingdom is involved; whilst the other i

but a personal affair, and trivial b

comparison.

"I will beg, sir, that out of consideratio

for my disclosing this dastardl

conspiracy—which I cannot do withoudisclosing my father's misguided share i

t—I will implore, sir, that out of tha

consideration, Lord Carteret will see fit t

dispose that the South Sea Company affais allowed to be forgotten. It has alread

been paid for by my father with his life."

Mr. Templeton looked at the young man



before him with eyes of rea

commiseration. He was entirely duped

and in his heart he regretted that for

moment he could have doubted Rotherby'ntegrity of purpose.

"Sir," he said, "I offer you my sympathy

—my profoundest sympathy; and you, m

ady.

"As for this South Sea Company affair

well—I am empowered by Lord Cartere

o treat only of the other matter, and tossue or not a warrant for th

apprehension of the person you ar

detaining, after I have investigated th

grounds upon which his arrest is urgedevertheless, sir, I think I can say—

ndeed, I think I can promise—that i

consideration of your readiness to delive



up these letters, and provided their natur

s as serious as you represent, and also i

consideration of this, your most signa

proof of loyalty, Lord Carteret will nowish to increase the load which alread

you have to bear."

"Oh, sir!" cried Rotherby in the deepes

emotion, "I have no words in which t

express my thanks."

"Nor I," put in Mr. Caryll, "words i

which to express my admiration. A mosexcellent performance, Rotherby. I had no

credited you with so much ability."

Mr. Templeton frowned upon him

again. "Ye betray a singular callousnesssir," said he.

"Nay, sir; not callousness. Merely th

ease that springs from a tranqui



conscience."

Her ladyship glanced across at him, an

sneered audibly. "You hear the poisonou

raitor, sir. He glories in a tranquiconscience, in spite of this murderou

matter to which he stood committed."

Rotherby turned aside to take the letterfrom the desk. He thrust them into Mr

Templeton's hands. "Here, sir, is a lette

from King James to my father, and here i

a letter from my father to King JamesFrom their contents, you will gather how

far advanced are matters, what devilrie

are being hatched here in his majesty'

dominions."Mr. Templeton received them, and

crossed to the window that he migh

examine them. His countenanc



engthened. Rotherby took his stand besid

his mother's chair, both observing Mr

Caryll, who, in his turn, was observin

Mr. Templeton, a faint smile playinground the corners of his mouth. Once the

saw him stoop and whisper something i

Hortensia's ear, and they caught th

upward glance of her eyes, half fear, halquestion.

Mr. Green, by the door, stood turning

his hat in his hands, furtively watchineverybody, whilst drawing no attention to

himself—a matter in which much practic

had made him perfect.

At last Templeton turned, folding theetters. "This is very grave, my lord," sai

he, "and my Lord Carteret will no doub

desire to express in person his gratitud



and his deep sense of the service you hav

done him. I think you may confidentl

expect to find him as generous as yo

hope."He pocketed the letters, and raised

hand to point at Mr. Caryll. "This man?

he inquired laconically.

"Is a spy of King James's. He is th

messenger who bore my father that lette

from the Pretender, and he would no doub

have carried back the answer had mfather lived."

Mr. Templeton drew a paper from his

pocket, and crossed to the desk. He sa

down, and took up a quill. "You can provehis, of course?" he said, testing the poin

of his quill upon his thumb-nail.

"Abundantly," was the ready answer



"My mother can bear witness to the fac

hat 'twas he brought the Pretender's letter

and there is no lack of corroboration

Enough, I think, would be afforded by thassault made by this rogue upon Mr

Green, of which, no doubt, you ar

already informed, sir. His object—thi

proved object—was to possess himself ohose papers that he might destroy them.

but caught him in time, as my servants ca

bear witness, as they can also bea

witness to the circumstance that we wer

compelled to force an entrance here, an

o use force to him to obtain the letter

from him."Mr. Templeton nodded. "'Tis a clear

case, then," said he, and dipped his pen.

"And yet," put in Mr. Caryll, in a



ndolent, musing voice, "it might be mad

o look as clear another way."

Mr. Templeton scowled at him. "The

opportunity shall be afforded you," saihe. "Meanwhile—what is your name?"

Mr. Caryll looked whimsically at th

secretary a moment; then flung his bomb"I am Justin Caryll, Sixth Earl o

Ostermore, and your very humble servan

Mr. Secretary."

The effect was ludicrous—from MrCaryll's point of view—and yet it wa

disappointing. Five pairs of dilating eye

confronted him, five gaping mouths. The

her ladyship broke into a laugh.

"The creature's mad—I've lon

suspected it." And she meant to be take

iterally; his many whimsicalities wer



explained to her at last. He was, indeed

half-witted, as he now proved.

Mr. Templeton, recovering, smote the

able angrily. He thought he had goodreason to lose his self-control on thi

occasion, though it was a matter of prid

with him that he could always preserve a

unruffled calm under the most tryin

circumstances. "What is your name, sir?

he demanded again.

"You are hard of hearing, sir, I think. am Lord Ostermore. Set down that nam

n the warrant if you are determined to b

bubbled by that fellow there and made t

ook foolish afterwards with my LorCarteret."

Mr. Templeton sat back in his chair

frowning; but more from utte



bewilderment now than anger.

"Perhaps," said Mr. Caryll, "if I wer

o explain, it would help you to see th

mposture that is being practiced upoyou. As for the allegations that have bee

made against me—that I am a Jacobite sp

and an agent of the Pretender's—" H

shrugged, and waved an airy hand. "

scarce think there will remain the need fo

me to deny them when you have heard th

rest."Rotherby took a step forward, his fac

purple, his hands clenched. Her ladyshi

hrust out a bony claw, clutched at hi

sleeve, and drew him back and into thchair beside her. "Pho! Charles," she said

"give the fool rope, and he'll hang himself

never doubt it—the poor, witles



creature."

Mr. Caryll sauntered over to th

secretaire, and leaned an elbow on the top

of it, facing all in the room.

"I admit, Mr. Secretary," said he, "that

had occasion to assault Mr. Green, to th

end that I might possess myself of thpapers he was seeking in this desk."

"Why, then—" began Mr. Templeton.

"Patience, sir! I admit so much, but

admit no more. I do not, for instanceadmit that the object—the object itself—

of my search was such as has bee

represented."

"What then? What else?" growle

Rotherby.

"Ay, sir—what else?" quoth Mr

Templeton.



"Sir," said Mr. Caryll, with a sorrowfu

shake of, the head, "I have already startle

you, it seems, by one statement. I beg tha

you will prepare yourself to be startled banother." Then he abruptly dropped hi

anguor. "I should think twice, sir," he

advised, "before signing that warrant

were I in your place, to do so would be trender yourself the tool of those who ar

plotting my ruin, and ready to bear fals

witness that they may accomplish it.

refer," and he waved a hand towards th

countess and his brother, "to the late Lord

Ostermore's mistress and his natural son

here."In their utter stupefaction at th

unexpectedness and seeming wildness o

he statement, neither mother nor son coul

find a word to say. No more could Mr



Templeton for a moment. Then, suddenly

wrathfully: "What are you saying, sir?" h

roared.

"The truth, sir."

"The truth?" echoed the secretary.

"Ay, sir—the truth. Have ye neve

heard of it?"Mr. Templeton sat back again. "I begin

o think," said he, surveying throug

narrowing eyes the slender graceful figur

before him, "that her ladyship is right thayou are mad; unless—unless you are ma

of the same madness that beset Ulysses

You remember?"

"Let us have done," cried Rotherby in

burst of anger, leaping to his feet. "Let u

have done, I say! Are we to waste the da

upon this Tom o' Bedlam? Write him



down as Caryll—Justin Caryll—'tis th

name he's known by; and let Green see t

he rest."

Mr. Templeton made an impatiensound, and poised his pen.

"Ye are not to suppose, sir," Mr. Caryl

stayed him, "that I cannot support mstatements. I have by me proofs—

rrefragable proofs of what I say."

"Proofs?" The word seemed to com

from, every member of that little assembl—if we except Mr. Green, whose fac

was beginning to betray his uneasiness

He was not so ready as the others t

believe, that Mr. Caryll was mad. Fohim, the situation asked some othe

explanation.

"Ay—proofs," said Mr. Caryll. He had



drawn the case from his pocket again

From this he took the birth-certificate, an

placed it before Mr. Templeton, "Will you

glance at that, sir—to begin, with?—"Mr. Templeton complied. His face

became more and more grave. He looke

at Mr. Caryll; then at Rotherby, who wa

scowling, and at her ladyship, who wa

breathing hard. His glance returned to Mr

Caryll.

"You are the person designated here?he inquired.

"As I can abundantly prove," said Mr

Caryll. "I have no lack of friends i

London who will bear witness to thamuch."

"Yet," said Mr. Templeton, frowning

perplexed, "this does not make you wha



you claim to be. Rather does it show yo

o be his late lordship's—"

"There's more to come," said Mr

Caryll, and placed another documenbefore the secretary. It was an extrac

from the register of St. Etienne o

Maligny, relating to his mother's death.

"Do you know, sir, in what year thi

ady went through a ceremony of marriag

with my father—the late Lord Ostermore

t was in 1690, I think, as the lady will ndoubt confirm."

"To what purpose, this?" quoth Mr

Templeton.

"The purpose will be presentl

apparent. Observe that date," said Mr

Caryll, and he pointed to the document i

Mr. Templeton's hand.



Mr. Templeton read the date aloud

—"1692"—and then the name of th

deceased—"Antoinette de Beaulieu d

Maligny. What of it?" he demanded."You will understand that when I show

you the paper I took from this desk, th

paper that I obtained as a consequence o

my violence to Mr. Green. I think you wil

consider, sir, that if ever the end justified

he means, it did so in this case. Here wa

something very different from the paltrmatter of treason that is alleged agains

me."

And he passed the secretary a thir

paper.Over Mr. Templeton's shoulder

Rotherby and his mother, who—drawn b

he overpowering excitement that wa



mastering them—had approached i

silence, were examining the documen

with wide-open, startled eyes, fearing b

very instinct, without yet apprehending thrue nature of the revelation that was t

come.

"God!" shrieked her ladyship, who too

n the meaning of this thing befor

Rotherby had begun to suspect it. "'Tis

forgery!"

"That were idle, when the original entrn the register is to be seen in, the Churc

of St. Antoine, madam," answered Mr

Caryll. "I rescued that document, togethe

with some letters which my mother wrotmy father when first he returned t

England—and which are superfluous now

—from a secret drawer in that desk, a



hour ago."

"But what is it?" inquired Rotherb

huskily. "What is it?"

"It is the certificate of the marriage o

my father, the late Lord Ostermore, and

my mother, Antoinette de Maligny, at the

Church of St. Antoine in Paris, in the yea1689." He turned to Mr. Templeton. "You

apprehend the matter, sir?" he demanded

and recapitulated. "In 1689 they wer

married; in 1692 she died; yet in 1690 hiordship went through a form of marriag

with Mistress Sylvia Etheridge, there."

Mr. Templeton nodded very gravely

his eyes upon the document before himhat they might avoid meeting at tha

moment the eyes of the woman whom th

world had always known as the Countes



of Ostermore.

"Fortunate is it for me," said Mr

Caryll, "that I should have possesse

myself of these proofs in time. Does ineed more to show how urgent might b

he need for my suppression—how littl

faith can be attached to an accusatio

evelled against me from such a quarter?"

"By God—" began Rotherby, but hi

mother clutched his wrist.

"Be still, fool!" she hissed in his earShe had need to keep her wits about her

o think, to weigh each word that she migh

utter. An abyss had opened in her path; a

false step, and she and her son werrrevocably lost—sent headlong t

destruction. Rotherby, already reduced to

he last stage of fear, was obedient as h



had never been, and fell silent instantly.

Mr. Templeton folded the papers, rose

and proffered them to their owner. "Hav

you any means of proving that this was thdocument you sought?" he inquired.

"I can prove that it was the document h

found." It was Hortensia who spoke; shhad advanced to her lover's side, and sh

controlled her amazement to bear witnes

for him. "I was present in this room whe

he went through that desk, as all in thhouse know; and I can swear to his havin

found that paper in it."

Mr. Templeton bowed. "My lord," he

said to Caryll, "your contentions appeaclear. It is a matter in which I fear I can go

no further; nor do I now think that th

secretary of state would approve of m



ssuing a warrant upon such testimony a

we have received. The matter is one fo

Lord Carteret himself."

"I shall do myself the honor of waitinupon his lordship within the hour," said

he new Lord Ostermore. "As for the lette

which it is alleged I brought from Franc

—from the Pretender,"—he was smilin

now, a regretful, deprecatory smile, "it i

a fortunate circumstance that, bein

suspected by that very man Green, whstands yonder, I was subjected, upon m

arrival in England, to a thorough search a

Maidstone—a search, it goes withou

saying, that yielded nothing. I was angry ahe time, at the indignity I was forced t

endure. We little know what the future

may hold. And to-day I am thankful to

have that evidence to rebut this charge."



"Your lordship is indeed to be

congratulated," Mr. Templeton agreed

"You are thus in a position to clea

yourself of even a shadow of suspicion.""You fool!" cried she who until tha

hour had been Countess of Ostermore

urning fiercely upon Mr. Templeton

"You fool!"

"Madam, this is not seemly," cried th

second secretary, with awkward dignity.

"Seemly, idiot?" she stormed at him. "swear, as I've a soul to be saved, that i

spite of all this, I know that man to be

raitor and a Jacobite—that it was th

etter from the king he sought, whatever hmay pretend to have found."

Mr. Templeton looked at her in sorrow

for all that in her overwrought conditio



she insulted him. "Madam, you migh

swear and swear, and yet no one would

believe you in the face of the facts tha

have come to light.""Do you believe me?" she demande

angrily.

"My beliefs can matter nothing," hcompromised, and made her a valedictor

bow. "Your servant, ma'am," said he, fro

force of habit. He nodded to Rotherby

ook up his hat and cane, and strode to thdoor, which Mr. Green had made haste to

open for him. From the threshold h

bowed to Mr. Caryll. "My lord," said he

"I shall go straight to Lord Carteret. Hwill stay for you till you come."

"I shall not keep his lordship waiting,

answered Caryll, and bowed in his turn.



The second secretary went out. Mr

Green hesitated a moment, then abruptl

followed him. The game was ended here

t was played and lost, he saw, and whashould such as Mr. Green be doing on th

osing side?



CHAPTER XXIII.

THE LION

The game was played and lost. Al

realized it, and none so keenly aHortensia, who found it in her gentle hear

o pity the woman who had never show

her a kindness.

She set a hand upon her lover's arm

"What will you do, Justin?" she inquire

n tones that seemed to plead for mercy fo

hose others; for she had not paused think—as another might have thought—

hat there was no mercy he could show

hem.



Rotherby and his mother stood hand i

hand; it was the woman who had clutche

at her son for comfort and support in thi

bitter hour of retribution, this hour of threcoil upon themselves of all the evil the

had plotted.

Mr. Caryll considered them a moment

his face a mask, his mind entirel

detached. They interested him profoundly

This subjugation of two natures that i

hemselves were arrogant and cruel was process very engrossing to observe. H

ried to conjecture what they felt, wha

houghts they might be harboring. And i

seemed to him that a sort of paralysis hafallen on their wits. They were stunne

under the shock of the blow he had deal

hem. Anon there would be railings and to

spare—against him, against themselves



against the dead man above stairs, agains

Fate, and more besides. For the presen

here was this horrid, almost vacuou

calm.Presently the woman stirred. Instinct—

he instinct of the stricken beast to creep t

hiding—moved her, while reason wa

still bound in lethargy. She moved to step

drawing at her son's hand. "Come

Charles," she said, in a low, hoarse voice

"Come!"The touch and the speech awakened hi

o life. "No!" he cried harshly, and shoo

his hand free of hers. "It ends not thus."

He looked almost as he would flinhimself upon his brother, his figure erec

now, defiant and menacing; his face ashen

his eyes wild. "It ends not thus!" h



repeated, and his voice rang sinister.

"No," Mr. Caryll agreed quietly. "I

ends not thus."

He looked sadly from son to mother. "I

had not even begun thus, but that yo

would have it so. You would have it.

sought to move you to mercy. I remindedyou, my brother, of the tie that bound us

and I would have turned you fro

fratricide, I would have saved you fro

he crime you meditated—for it was crime."

"Fratricide!" exclaimed Rotherby, and

aughed angrily. "Fratricide!" It was as i

he threatened it.

But Mr. Caryll continued to regard hi

sorrowfully. From his soul he pitied him

pitied them both—not because of thei



condition, but because of the soullessnes

behind it all. To him it was truly tragic

ragic beyond anything that he had eve

known."You said some fine things, sir, to Mr

Templeton of your regard for your father'

memory," said Mr. Caryll. "You

expressed some lofty sentiments of filia

piety, which almost sounded true—whic

sounded true, indeed, to Mr. Templeton. I

was out of interest for your father that yopleaded for the suppression of hi

dealings with the South Sea Company; no

for a moment did you consider yourself o

he profit you should make from sucsuppression."

"Why this?" demanded the mothe

fiercely. "Do you rally us? Do you turn th



sword in the wound now that you have u

at your mercy—now that we are fallen?"

"From what are you fallen?" Mr. Caryl

nquired. "Ah, but let that pass. I do norally, madam. Mockery is far indeed fro

my intention." He turned again t

Rotherby. "Lord Ostermore was a fathe

o you, which he never was to me—knew

not that he was. The sentiments you s

beautifully expressed to Mr. Templeton

are the sentiments that actuate me nowhough I shall make no attempt to expres

hem. It is not that my heart stirs muc

where my Lord Ostermore is concerned

And yet, for the sake of the name that imine now, I shall leave England as I cam

—Mr. Justin Caryll, neither more nor less

"In the eyes of the world there is no slu



upon my mother's name, because he

history—her supposed history—wa

unknown. See that none ever falls on i

else shall you find me pitiless indeed. Sehat none ever falls on it, or I shall retur

and drive home the lesson that, lik

Antinous, you've learnt—that 'twixt th

cup and lip much ill may grow'—and turyou, naked upon a contemptuous world

eeds more be said? You understand,

hink."

Rotherby understood nothing. But hi

mother's keener wits began to perceive

glimmer of the truth. "Do you mean that—

hat we are to—to remain in the statiohat we believed our own?"

"What else?"

She stared at him. Here was



generosity so weak, it seemed to her, a

almost to provoke her scorn. "You wil

eave your brother in possession of th

itle and what else there may be?""You think me generous, madam," said

he. "Do not misapprehend me. I am not.

covet neither the title nor estates o

Ostermore. Their possession would be

horn in my flesh, a thorn of bitter memory

That is one reason why you should no

hink me generous, though it is not threason why I cede them. I would have yo

understand me on this, perhaps the las

ime, that we may meet.

"Lord Ostermore, my father, marriedyou, madam, in good faith."

She interrupted harshly. "What is't yo

say?" she almost screamed, quivering wit



rage at the very thought of what her dea

ord had done.

"He married you in good faith," Mr

Caryll repeated quietly, impressively. "will make it plain to you. He married yo

believing that the girl-wife he had left i

France was dead. For fear it should com

o his father's knowledge, he kept tha

marriage secret from all. He durst not ow

his marriage to his father."

"He was not—as you may havappreciated in the years you lived wit

him—a man of any profound feeling fo

others. For himself he had a prodigiousl

profound feeling, as you may also havgathered. That marriage in France wa

roublesome. He had come to look upon i

as one of his youth's follies—as he



himself, described it to me in this house

ittle knowing to whom he spoke. When h

received the false news of her death—fo

he did receive such news from the vercousin who crossed from France t

avenge her, believing her dead himself—

he rejoiced at his near escape from th

consequences of his folly. Nor was hever disabused of his error. For she had

ceased to write to him by then. And so h

married you, madam, in good faith. That i

he argument I shall use with my Lor

Carteret to make him understand tha

respect for my father's memory urges m

o depart in silence—save for what I mushave said to escape the impeachment wit

which you threatened me."

"Lord Carteret is a man of the world

He will understand the far-reachin



disturbance that must result from th

disclosure of the truth of this affair. H

will pledge Mr. Templeton to silence, and

he truth, madam, will never be disclosedThat, I think, is all, madam."

"By God, sir," cried Rotherby, "that'

damned handsome of you!"

"You epitomize it beautifully," said Mr

Caryll, with a reversion to his habitua

manner.

His mother, however, had no words aall. She advanced a step towards Mr

Caryll, put out her hands, and then—

portent of portents!—two tears were see

o trickle down her cheeks, playing havocploughing furrows in the paint tha

overlaid them.

Mr. Caryll stepped forward quickly



The sight of those tears, springing fro

hat dried-up heart—withered by Go

alone knew what blight—washing thei

way down those poor bedaubed cheeksmoved him to a keener pity than anythin

he had ever looked upon. He took he

hands, and pressed them a moment, givin

way for once to an impulse he could nomaster.

She would have kissed his own in th

abasement and gratitude of the momenBut he restrained her.

"No more, your ladyship," said he, an

by thus giving her once more the title sh

had worn, he seemed to reinstate her in thstation from which in self-defence he ha

pulled her down. "Promise that you'll bea

no witness against me should so much b



needed, and I'll cry quits with you

Without your testimony, they cannot hur

me, even though they were disposed to d

so, which is scarcely likely.""Sir—sir—" she faltered brokenly

"Could you—could you suppose—"

"Indeed, no. So no more, ma'am. Youdo but harass yourself. Fare you well, m

ady. If I may trespass for a few moment

onger upon the hospitality of Stretto

House, I'll be your debtor.""The house—and all—is yours, sir,

she reminded him.

"There's but one thing in it that I'll carr

off with me," said he. He held the door fo

her.

She looked into his face a momen

"God keep you!" said she, with



surprising fervor in one not over-fluent a

her prayers. "God reward you for showin

his mercy to an old woman—who doe

not deserve so much.""Fare you well, madam," he said again

bowing gravely. "And fare you well, Lord

Ostermore," he added to her son.

His brother looked at him a momen

seemed on the point of speaking, and the

—taking his cue, no doubt, from hi

mother's attitude—he held out his hand.Mr. Caryll took it, shook it, and let i

go. After all, he bethought him, the ma

was his brother. And if his bearing wa

not altogether cordial, it was, at least, clement imitation of cordiality.

He closed the door upon them, an

sighed supreme relief. He turned to fac



Hortensia, and a smile broke like sunshin

upon his face, and dispelled the seriou

gloom of his expression. She spran

owards him."Come now, thou chattel, that I a

resolved to carry with me from my father'

house," said he.

She checked in her approach. "'Tis no

n such words that I'll be wooed," sai

she.

"A fig for words!" he cried. "Arwooed and won. Confess it."

"You want nothing for self-esteem," she

nformed him gravely.

"One thing, Hortensia," he amended

"One thing I want—I lack—to estee

myself greater than any king that rules."

"I like that better," she laughed, and



suddenly she was in tears. "Oh, why d

you mock, and make-believe that you

heart is on your lips and nowhere else?

she asked him. "Is it your aim to baccounted trifling and shallow—you wh

can do such things as you have done bu

now? Oh, it was noble! You made me

very proud."

"Proud?" he echoed. "Ah! Then it mus

be that you are resolved to take thi

mpudent, fleering coxcomb for husband," he said, rallying her with th

words she had flung at him that night in th

moonlit Croydon garden.

"How I was mistook in you!" quoth sheHe made philosophy. "'Tis ever those i

whom we are mistook that are best wort

knowing," he informed her. "The man o



woman whom you can read at sight, i

read and done with."

"Yet you were not mistook in me," said

she.

"I was," he answered, "for I deeme

you woman."

"What other have you found me?" shnquired.

He flung wide his arms, and bade he

nto them. "Here to my heart," he cried

"and in your ear I'll whisper it."



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