tle love-lady or other," he said, and chalked his cue.

"A love-lady!" exclaimed Dartie--he used a more figurative expression.
"I made sure it was our friend Soa...."

"Did you?" said George curtly. "Then damme you've made an error."

He missed his shot. He was careful not to allude to the subject again
till, towards eleven o'clock, having, in his poetic phraseology, 'looked
upon the drink when it was yellow,' he drew aside the blind, and gazed
out into the street. The murky blackness of the fog was but faintly
broken by the lamps of the 'Red Pottle,' and no shape of mortal man or
thing was in sight.

"I can't help thinking of that poor Buccaneer," he said. "He may be
wandering out there now in that fog. If he's not a corpse," he added
with strange dejection.

"Corpse!" said Dartie, in whom the recollection of his defeat at
Richmond flared up. "He's all right. Ten to one if he wasn't tight!"

George turned on him, looking really formidable, with a sort of savage
gloom on his big face.

"Dry up!" he said. "Don't I tell you he's 'taken the knock!"'

CHAPTER V--THE TRIAL

In the morning of his case, which was second in the list, Soames was
again obliged to start without seeing Irene, and it was just as well,
for he had not as yet made up his mind what attitude to adopt towards
her.

He had been requested to be in court by half-past ten, to provide
against the event of the first action (a breach of promise) collapsing,
which however it did not, both sides showing a courage that afforded
Waterbuck, Q.C., an opportunity for improving his already great
reputation in this class of case. He was opposed by Ram, the other
celebrated breach of promise man. It was a battle of giants.

The court delivered judgment just before the luncheon interval. The jury
left the box for good, and Soames went out to get something to eat. He
met James standing at the little luncheon-bar, like a pelican in the
wilderness of the galleries, bent over a sandwich with a glass of sherry
before him. The spacious emptiness of the great central hall, over which
father and son brooded as they stood together, was marred now and then
for a fleeting moment by barristers in wig and gown hurriedly bolting
across, by an occasional old lady or rusty-coated man, looking up in a
frightened way, and by two persons, bolder than their generation, seated
in an embrasure arguing. The sound of their voices arose, together with
a scent as of neglected wel