these prosaic days!

"By the way, what particular case were you discussing when I happened
by?"

"Nothing very new," answered the military man, "an old crime perpetrated
by a fellow called the--"

"Beg pardon!" A footman stood in the doorway. "Sir Charles' compliments
to the gentlemen, and will they be good enough to join him in armory
hall?"

John Steele turned quickly to the servant, so quickly a close observer
might have fancied he welcomed the interruption. "Captain Forsythe's and
Mr. Steele's compliments to Sir Charles," he said at once, "and say it
will give them pleasure to comply. That is," he added, bowing, "with
your permission, Miss Wray."

She assented lightly; preceded by the girl, the two men left the room
and mounted the broad stairway leading to the second story.

Armory hall was a large and lofty chamber with vaulted ceiling, that
dated back almost to the early Norman period; its walls, decorated in
geometrical designs, were covered with many varieties of antique weapons
of warfare; halberd and mace gleamed and mingled with harquebus, poleax
or lance. At one end of the hall were ranged in a row suits of armor
which at first glance looked like real knights, drawn up in company
front; then the empty helmets dawned on the beholder, transforming them
into mere vacuous relics.

As Steele and his companion together with Jocelyn Wray entered, sounds
of merriment and applause greeted the ear; two men in fencing array who
had apparently just ended a match were the center of an animated
company.

"A little contest with the foils! A fencing bout! Good!" exclaimed
Forsythe.

Jocelyn Wray walked over to the group and Forsythe followed.

"Bravo, Ronsdale!" A number of people applauded.

"He has won. Now the reward! What is it to be?"

"Not so fast! Here are others."

"True!" Ronsdale looked around with his cold smile; his glance vaguely
included John Steele and Captain Forsythe.

"Count me out!" laughed the latter. "Not in my line, don't you know,
since I joined the retired list!"

"However, there's Steele," Sir Charles, pipe in hand, remarked.

Ronsdale had stepped to the girl's side; his eyes, regarding her in the
least degree too steadily, shone with a warmer gleam. She appeared
either not to notice, or to mind; with look unreservedly bright, she
smiled back at him; then her gaze met John Steele's.

"Do you use the foils, Mr. Steele?"

He moved forward; Lord Ronsdale stood near her, bending