turning, he cried: "Time, gentlemen--and four to ten we split the
main!"

"Done with you, Sir Peter!" came the answering shout as from a single
throat; and Sir Peter, smiling to himself, booked briefly and sauntered
toward the tavern door, old Horrock trotting faithfully at heel.

I had risen and was nervously pacing the grass under the cherry-trees,
miserable, full of bitterness, depressed, already bitterly regretting
the chance lost, arguing that it was a certainty and no hazard. Yet,
deep in my heart, I knew no gentleman can bet on certainty, and where
there is no certainty there is risk. That risk I had not taken; the
prisoners were to gain or suffer nothing. Thinking of these matters I
started to stroll through the cherry grove, and as I stepped from the
shade out upon the sunny lawn the shadow of an advancing figure warned
me, and I looked up to behold a young officer, in a black and green
uniform, crossing my path, his head turned in my direction, his dark,
luminous gaze fastened curiously upon me.

Dazzled somewhat by the sun in my eyes, I peered at him as he passed,
noting the strange cut of his regimentals, the silver buttons stamped
with a motto in relief, the curious sword-knot of twisted buck-thong
heavily embroidered in silver and scarlet wampum. Wampum? And what was
that devil's device flashing on button and shoulder-knot?

"Butler's Rangers!"

Slowly I turned to stare; he halted, looking back at me, a slim,
graceful figure in forest-green, his own black hair gathered in a club,
his dark amber eyes fixed on mine with that veiled yet detached glare I
had not forgotten.

"Captain Butler," I said mechanically.

Hats in hand, heels together, we bowed low in the sunshine--so low that
our hands on our hilts alone retained the blades in their scabbards,
while our hats swept the short grass on the lawn; then, leisurely
erect, once more we stood face to face, a yard of sod betwixt us, the
sunshine etching our blue shadows motionless.

"Mr. Renault," he said, in that colorless voice he used at times, "I
had thought to know you, but you are six years older. Time's
alchemy"--he hesitated, then with a perfect bow--"refines even the
noblest metal. I trust your health and fortune are all that you could
desire. Is madam, your mother, well, and your honorable father?"

"I thank you, Captain Butler."

He looked at me a moment, then with a melancholy smile and a gesture
wholly graceful: "It is poor reparation to