ston was beside the prostrate body of his uncle,
feeling his heart.

"Good God," he said, "I didn't think I hit so hard!" He felt the pulse,
looked at the livid face, then caught open the waistcoat and put his
ear to the chest. He did it all coolly, though swiftly--he was' born for
action and incident. And during that moment of suspense he thought of
a hundred things, chiefly that, for the sake of the family--the
family!--he must not go to trial. There were easier ways.

But presently he found that the heart beat.

"Good! good!" he said, undid the collar, got some water, and rang a
bell. Falby came. Gaston ordered some brandy, and asked for Sir William.
After the brandy had been given, consciousness returned. Gaston lifted
him up.

He presently swallowed more brandy, and while yet his head was at
Gaston's shoulder, said:

"You are a hard hitter. But you've certainly lost the game now."

Here he made an effort, and with Gaston's assistance got to his feet. At
that moment Falby entered to say that Sir William was not in the house.
With a wave of the hand Gaston dismissed him. Deathly pale, his uncle
lifted his eyebrows at the graceful gesture.

"You do it fairly, nephew," he said ironically yet faintly,--"fairly
in such little things; but a gentleman, your uncle, your elder, with
fists--that smacks of low company!"

Gaston made a frank reply as he smothered his pride

"I am sorry for the blow, sir; but was the fault all mine?"

"The fault? Is that the question? Faults and manners are not the same.
At bottom you lack in manners; and that will ruin you at last."

"You slighted my mother!"

"Oh, no! and if I had, you should not have seen it."

"I am not used to swallow insults. It is your way, sir. I know your
dealings with my father."

"A little more brandy, please. But your father had manners, after all.
You are as rash as he; and in essential matters clownish--which he was
not."

Gaston was well in hand now, cooler even than his uncle.

"Perhaps you will sum up your criticism now, sir, to save future
explanation; and then accept my apology."

"To apologise for what no gentleman pardons or does, or acknowledges
openly when done--H'm! Were it not well to pause in time, and go back
to your wild North? Why so difficult a saddle--Tartarin after Napoleon?
Think--Tartarin's end!"

Gaston deprecated with a gesture: "Can I do anything for you, sir?"

His uncle now stood up, but swayed a little, and winced f