that I shall tell Miss Bolitho the truth about you if you
don't."

"The truth about me?"

"The truth about you. You see, I happen to know a good deal about you.
Oh, you needn't start. I have all particulars and proofs to the
minutest detail. If you do not wish Miss Bolitho to know exactly the
kind of man you are, what your responsibilities are, and your duties
are, you must send a note to the editor, signed by yourself, declaring
that there is no truth whatever in the announcement."

"You spy! You sneaking hound!" said the other, quite losing control
over himself.

"Spy, if you like," said Paul. "Sneaking hound also comes well from
such as you; but, as it happens, I have had my reasons for a long time
for forming certain impressions about you; and as Miss Bolitho is a
friend of mine--naturally, I take an interest."

"A friend of yours!" said Wilson.

"Of mine," said Paul. "Now then, will you do what I tell you?"

Neither of them knew that they were being watched, and neither of them
knew that, although their conversation was not overheard, two men could
hear angry voices, and were wondering what it could be about. These
two men knew of the feud which existed between them, and knew that each
hated the other.

"Will you write that letter, and give up all thoughts of such a thing
for all time?"

Wilson answered in language which I will not set down. This time his
words were loud enough for the two men to hear--words which were
calculated to rouse anger in the heart of the mildest of men, and Paul
was not a mild man. They saw Paul look towards the other with murder
in his eyes, saw his hand uplifted as if to strike, then they saw him
master himself.

"Very well, then," he said. "I shall do what I say," and turned on his
heel to walk away.

He had not gone six steps, however, before Wilson, blind with rage and
the pent-up fury of years burning in his heart, rushed after him, and
with all the strength that he possessed struck Paul on the head with an
ivory-handled walking stick. The young man fell to the ground with a
thud, for the moment stunned, while Wilson stood over him trembling
with passion, and as if waiting for an attack.

Paul quickly recovered himself, and rose to his feet. He wiped the
blood from his face, and then seemed undecided what to do. He struck
no blow, but spoke in tones loud enough for the watchers to hear him
plainly. "I might have expected this," he said. "It was a cowa