llent thing for him you will
understand when I tell you that Drake conceived an almost violent
liking for him and his daughter, Lady Marjorie Wynde, and not only
insisted upon their remaining at Heatherington Hall as his guests
in perpetuity, but designed eventually to bring the property back
into the possession of the original 'line' by a marriage between
Lady Marjorie and his son."

"Effective if not very original," commented Cleek, with one of his
curious one-sided smiles. "And how did the parties most concerned
view this promising little plan? Were they agreeable to the
arrangement?"

"Not they. As a matter of fact, both have what you may call a 'heart
interest' elsewhere. Lady Marjorie, who, although she is somewhat
of a 'Yes, papa,' and 'Please, papa,' young lady, and could, no
doubt, be induced to sacrifice herself for the family good, is, it
appears, engaged to a young lieutenant who will one day come in
for money, but hasn't more than enough to pay his mess bills at
present, I believe. As for young Jim Drake--why, matters were even
worse with _him_. It turns out that he'd found the girl _he_ wanted
before he left the States, and it took him just about twenty seconds
to make his father understand that he'd be shot, hanged, drawn,
quartered, or even reduced to mincemeat, before he'd give up that
girl or marry any other, at any time or at any cost, from now to
the Judgment Day."

"Bravo!" said Cleek, slapping his palms together. "That's the spirit.
That's the boy for my money, Mr. Narkom! Get a good woman and stick
to her, through thick and thin, at all hazards and at any cost. The
jockey who 'swaps horses' in the middle of a race never yet came
first under the wire nor won a thing worth having. Well, what was
the result of this plain speaking on the young man's part? Pleasant
or unpleasant?"

"Oh, decidedly unpleasant. The father flew into a rage, swore by all
that was holy, and by a great deal that wasn't, that he'd cut him
off 'without one red cent,' whatever that may mean, if he ever
married that particular girl; and as that particular girl--who is
as poor as Job's turkey, by the way--happened by sheer perversity
of fortune to have landed in England that very day, in company
with an eminent literary person whose secretary she had been for
some two or three years past, away marched the son, took out a
special license, and married her on the spot."

"Well done, independence! I like that boy more than eve