I will not move an inch without the utmost certainty."

Tom began to lose his temper. "Your scruples will bring about a
flagrant scandal," he exclaimed. "Lord Bearwarden is determined not to
be cheated out of his redress. I know his intentions, and I know his
character. There will be a personal collision, to the disgrace of
every one concerned!"

"Then I shall recommend Stanmore to walk about With a thick stick,"
answered Simon coolly. "I often carry one myself, Mr. Ryfe," he added
in a tone of marked significance, "and should not scruple to use it on
occasion to the best of my abilities."

The painter, though a small, slight man, was utterly fearless.
Looking Tom Ryfe straight in the eyes while he made this suggestive
observation, the latter felt that nothing was to be gained by
bullying, and the game was lost.

"I am surprised," he replied loftily, but with a ceremonious bow, as
reminding the other that his character of ambassador was sacred. "I am
disappointed. I wash my hands of the disagreeable results likely
to arise from this unfortunate delay. I wish you good-morning, Mr.
Perkins. I leave you my address, and I trust you will lose no time in
making me acquainted with the result of your deliberations."

So Tom walked down-stairs with great dignity, though he smothered more
than one bitter curse the while, passing without so much as a glance
the rejected garland, lying where he had thrown it aside before he
entered on his unsuccessful mission.

Had he been a little less stately in manner, a little more rapid of
movement, he might have overtaken the very lady of whom he obtained a
glimpse during his ascent. Nina Algernon was but a few paces ahead of
him, scouring along at a speed only accomplished by those who feel
that goad in the heart which stimulates exertion, far more effectually
than the "spur in the head," proverbially supposed to be worth "two in
the heels.'" Nina had overheard enough from her hiding-place to make
her angry, unhappy, and anxious in the highest degree. Angry, first
of all, with herself and him, to think that she could have set her
affections on one who was untrue; unhappy, to feel she still cared for
him so much; anxious to gather from the cold-blooded courtesies of the
odious Mr. Ryfe that a life so dear to her was in danger, that
perhaps she might never see Dick Stanmore again. With this ghastly
consideration, surged up fuller than ever the tide of love that had
been momentarily obst