de of the house, which was a corner one, and going down to the door
opened it sharply and walked in.

Comfortably imbedded in the depths of a long well-padded lounging chair,
with a spirit case and two or three bottles of soda water at his elbow,
sat a man who was lazily glancing through the _Field_ with his feet
resting on the mantelpiece, one on each side of the blazing fire. He was
a man of about the middle size, with a face rather bronzed and reddened
by climate, a nose slightly aquiline and higher in colour, quick black
eyes with an uneasy glance in them, bushy black whiskers, more like the
antiquated "Dundreary" type than modern fashion permits, and a wide
flexible mouth.

Paul knew him at once, though he had not seen him for some years; it was
Paradine, his disreputable brother-in-law--the "Uncle Marmaduke" who, by
importing the mysterious Garuda Stone, had brought all these woes upon
him; he noticed at once that his appearance was unusually prosperous,
and that the braided smoking coat he wore over his evening clothes was
new and handsome. "No wonder," he thought bitterly, "the fellow has been
living on me for a week!" He stood by the cue-rack looking at him for
some time, and then he said with a cold ironic dignity that (if he had
known it) came oddly from his boyish lips: "I hope you are making
yourself quite comfortable?"

Marmaduke put down his cigar and stared: "Uncommonly attentive and
polite of you to inquire," he said at last, with a dubious smile, which
showed a row of very white teeth, "whoever you are. If it will relieve
your mind at all to know, young man, I'm happy to say I am tolerably
comfortable, thanks."

"I--I concluded as much," said Paul, nearly choked with rage.

"You've been very nicely brought up," said Uncle Marmaduke, "I can see
that at a glance. So you've come in here, like me, eh? because the
children bore you, and you want a quiet gossip over the world in
general? Sit down then, take a cigar, if you don't think it will make
you very unwell. I shouldn't recommend it myself, you know, before
supper--but you're a man of the world and know what's good for you. Come
along, enjoy yourself till you find yourself getting queer--then drop
it."

Mr. Bultitude had always detested the man--there was an underbred
swagger and familiarity in his manner that made him indescribably
offensive; just now he seemed doubly detestable, and yet Paul by a
strong effort succeeded in controlling his temp