seemed to thunder.

For, as the last speaker went down on one knee to raise up the fallen
lad, he uttered a cry of horror, and then let the young man's head
hurriedly down, to shrink away with his hands fouled by blood.

"What is it?" cried the other, running forward; while Richard's hands
clutched at the air. "What is it?--cut?"

"Cut!" sobbed out the other. "A doctor!--quick! Dick Frayne, what have
you done? He's dead!"

CHAPTER THREE.

TWO PACES TO THE REAR.

After plunging as we did head first into the great trouble of Sir
Richard Frayne's life, I must ask my readers to let me go back, in
military parlance, "two paces to the rear," so as to enter into a few
explanations as to the position of the cousins, promising that the
interpolation shall be neither tedious nor long.

Only a short time before Richard Frayne struck that unlucky blow,
general-valet Jerry entered the room with--

"Here you are, Sir Richard, two pairs; and your shoes is getting thin in
the sole."

"Then I must have a new pair, Jerry."

"Why don't you have 'arf dozen pairs in on account, sir, like Mr Mark
do?"

"Look here, Jerry, if you worry me now, I shall throw something at you."

Jeremiah Brigley, who had just put down two pairs of newly-polished
shoes, rubbed his nose meditatively with the cuff of his striped morning
jacket, and then tapped an itching place on his head with the
clothes-brush he held in his hand, as he stared down at the owner of the
shoes--a good-looking, fair, intent lad of nearly eighteen, busy over a
contrivance which rested upon a pile of mathematical and military books
on the table of the well-furnished room overlooking the Cathedral Close
of Primchilsea busy city.

The place was fitted up as a study, and a curtain shut off a smaller
room suggestive of a bed within; while over the chimney-piece were foils
opposite single-sticks; boxing-gloves hung in pairs, bruised and
swollen, as if suffering from their last knocking about; a cavalry sabre
and a dragoon officer's helmet were on the wall opposite the window.
Books, pictures, and a statuette or two made the place attractive, and
here and there were objects which told of the occupant of that room's
particular aim.

For beneath the helmet and sabre stood a piano open, and with a piece of
music on the stand--a movement by Chopin; a violoncello leaned in its
case in one corner, a cornet-a-piston showed itself, like an arrangement
in brass macaroni pac