After disappearing for five minutes,
he came back with a whitish liquid in a glass.

"There!" he said, "good for the gout--for a cough--for everything!"

Mr. Treffry sniffed, drained the glass, and sucked his moustache.

"Ah!" he said. "No doubt! But it's uncommonly like gin, Paul." Then
turning to Christian, he said: "Shake hands, you two!"

Christian looked from one to the other, and at last held out her hand to
Herr Paul, who brushed it with his moustache, gazing after her as she
left the room with a queer expression.

"My dear!" he began, "you support her in this execrable matter? You
forget my position, you make me ridiculous. I have been obliged to go to
bed in my own house, absolutely to go to bed, because I was in danger of
becoming funny."

"Look here, Paul!" Mr. Treffry said gruffly, "if any one's to bully
Chris, it's I."

"In that case," returned Herr Paul sarcastically, "I will go to Vienna."

"You may go to the devil!" said Mr. Treffry; "and I'll tell you what--in
my opinion it was low to set the police on that young chap; a low, dirty
trick."

Herr Paul divided his beard carefully in two, took his seat on the very
edge of an arm-chair, and placing his hands on his parted knees, said:

"I have regretted it since--mais, que diable! He called me a coward--it
is very hot weather!--there were drinks at the Kurhaus--I am her
guardian--the affair is a very beastly one--there were more drinks--I was
a little enfin!" He shrugged his shoulders. "Adieu, my dear; I shall be
some time in Vienna; I need rest!" He rose and went to the door; then he
turned, and waved his cigar. "Adieu! Be good; get well! I will buy you
some cigars up there." And going out, he shut the door on any
possibility of answer.

Mr. Treffry lay back amongst his cushions. The clock ticked; pigeons
cooed on the veranda; a door opened in the distance, and for a moment a
treble voice was heard. Mr. Treffry's head drooped forward; across his
face, gloomy and rugged, fell a thin line of sunlight.

The clock suddenly stopped ticking, and outside, in mysterious accord,
the pigeons rose with a great fluttering of wings, and flew off'. Mr.
Treffry made a startled, heavy movement. He tried to get on to his feet
and reach the bell, but could not, and sat on the side of the couch with
drops of sweat rolling off his forehead, and his hands clawing his chest.
There was no sound at all throughout the house. He looked about him, and