he did not answer, I retained a handful of the grained silk on his
shoulder as a measure of precaution.

"Is this so?" I repeated.

"You must know, I suppose," he said, under his breath, and with a note of
sullenness.

"I must," I said firmly. "The knowledge is the weapon need, for I, too,
am going to meet Chartersea."

He ceased quivering all at once.

"You are going to meet him!" he cried, in another voice. "Yes, yes, it
is so,--it is so. I will tell you all."

"Keep it to yourself, Mr. Manners," I replied, with repugnance, "I have
heard all I wish. Where is he?" I demanded.

"Hold the path until you come to him. And God bless--"

I shook my head.

"No, not that! Do you go back to the company and make some excuse for
me. Do not alarm them. And if you get the chance, tell Lord Comyn where
to come."

I waited until I saw him under the lights of the Grand Walk, and fairly
running. Then I swung on my heel. I was of two minds whether to wait
for Comyn, by far the wiser course. The unthinking recklessness I had
inherited drove me on.

CHAPTER XLI

THE WILDERNESS

My eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and presently I made out a
bench ahead, with two black figures starting from it. One I should have
known on the banks of the Styx. From each came a separate oath as I
stopped abreast them, and called the duke by name.

"Mr. Carvel!" he cried; "what the devil do you here, sir?"

"I am come to keep an appointment for Mr. Manners," I said. "May I speak
to your Grace alone?"

He made a peculiar sound by sucking in his breath, meant for a sneering
laugh.

"No," says he, "damned if you shall! I have nothing in common with you,
sir. So love for Miss Manners has driven you mad, my young upstart. And
he is not the first, Lewis."

"Nor the last, by G--," says the captain.

"I have a score to settle with you, d--n you!" cried Chartersea.

"That is why I am here, your Grace," I replied; "only you have twisted
the words. There has been foul play enough. I have come to tell you,"
I cried, boiling with anger, "I have come to tell you there has been foul
play enough with a weakling that cannot protect himself, and to put an
end to your blackmail."

In the place of an oath, a hoarse laugh of derision came out of him. But
I was too angry then to note its significance. I slapped his face--nay,
boxed it so that my palm stung. I heard his sword scraping out of the
scabbard, and drew mine, stepping back to