on to kick the heir of the Wentworths. As he
could not do that, he shut the window behind him emphatically, and
extinguished the flaring candles on the centre table. "I detest a
draught," said the Perpetual Curate, which, unfortunately, was not a
statement entirely founded on fact, though so far true in the present
instance that he hated anything originated by the intruder. "I have
hurried home in reply to your message, and I should be glad to know
what it means, now that I am here--what you are in trouble about--and
why you come to me--and what you have to do with him?"

"But you need not have deranged the temperature," said Jack.
"Impetuosity always distresses me. All these are questions which it
will take some time to answer. Let me persuade you, in the first
place, to make yourself comfortable. Don't mind me; I am at the crisis
of my novel, which is very interesting. I have just been thinking how
it might be adapted for the stage--there's a character that Fechter
could make anything of. Now, my dear fellow, don't stand on ceremony.
Take a bath and change your dress, and in the mean time there will be
time to cook something--the cookery here is not bad for the country.
After that we'll discuss all our news. I daresay our friend there is
in no hurry," said the elder brother, opening his book and puffing
slowly towards the Curate the languid smoke of his cigar.

"But, by Jove, I _am_ in a hurry, though," said that nameless
individual, coming forward. "It's all very well for you: you put a man
up to everything that's dangerous, and then you leave him in the
lurch, and say it don't matter. I daresay it don't matter to you. All
that you've done has been to share the profit--you've nothing to do
with the danger; but I'm savage to-night, and I don't mean to stand it
any more," said the stranger, his great chest expanding with a panting
breath. He, too, looked as if he would have liked to seize the languid
spectator in his teeth and shake some human feeling into him. Jack
Wentworth raised his eyebrows and looked at him, as he might have
looked at a wild beast in a rage.

"Sit down, savage, and be quiet," he said. "Why should I trouble
myself about you?--any fool could get into your scrape. I am not in
the habit of interfering in a case of common crime. What I do, I do
out of pity," he continued, with an air of superiority, quite
different from his tone to his brother. But this look, which had
answered before, was not succ