y how! If you are disappointed with the result what concern
is that of mine? You have called yourself my friend. I have not for some
time considered you as such. I owe you nothing. I have no feeling for
you save one of contempt. To me you figure as the modern political
adventurer, living on his wits and the credulity of other people. Better
see how it will pay you in opposition."

Borrowdean, a cold-blooded and calculating man, knew for the first time
in his life what it was to let his passions govern him. Every word which
this man had spoken was truth, and therefore all the more bitter to hear.
He saw himself beaten and humiliated, outwitted by the man whom he had
sought to make his tool. A slow paroxysm of anger held him rigid. He was
white to the lips. His nerves and senses were all tingling. There was red
fire before his eyes.

"If your business with me is ended," Mannering said, waving his hand
towards the door, "you will forgive me if I remind you that I am much
occupied."

Borrowdean snatched up the square glass paper cutter from the table, and
without a second's warning he struck Mannering with it full upon the
temple.

"Damn you!" he said.

Mannering tried to struggle to his feet, but collapsed, and fell upon the
floor. Borrowdean kicked his prostrate body.

"Now go and form your Cabinet," he muttered. "May you wake in hell!"

* * * * *

Borrowdean, who left the study a madman, was a sane person the moment
he began to descend the stairs and found himself face to face with a
tall, heavily cloaked woman. The flash of familiar jewels in her hair,
something, perhaps, in the quiet stateliness of her movements, betrayed
her identity to him. His heart gave a quick jump. A sickening fear stole
over him. He barred the way.

"Duchess!" he exclaimed.

She waved him aside with an impatient gesture. He could see the frown
gathering upon her face.

"Sir Leslie!" she replied. "Please let me pass! I want to see Mr.
Mannering before any one else goes up!"

Sir Leslie drew immediately to one side.

"Pray do not let me detain you," he said, coolly. "Between ourselves, I
do not think that Mannering is in a fit state to see anybody. I have not
been able to get a coherent word out of him. He walks all the time
backwards and forwards like a man demented."

Berenice smiled slightly.

"You are annoyed," she declared, "because you will be in opposition once
more!"

"If I go into oppos