onour," he
said. "I suppose you were a gentleman once, and had the feelings of--"

"By Jove! I'm as good a gentleman as you are," cried the new heir. "I
could buy you up--you and all that belongs to you, by Jove! I'm giving
Jack Wentworth a dinner at the Blue Boar to-night. I'm not a man to be
cross-questioned. It appears to me you have got enough to do if you
mind your own business," said Wodehouse, with a sneer. "You're in a
nice mess, though you are the parson. I told Jack Wentworth so last
night."

The Curate stood on the step of Elsworthy's shop with his enemy
behind, and the ungrateful vagabond whom he had rescued and guarded,
standing in front of him, with that sneer on his lips. It was hard to
refrain from the natural impulse which prompted him to pitch the
vagabond out of his way. "Look here," he said, sharply, "you have not
much character to lose; but a scamp is a different thing from a
criminal. I will make the principal people in Carlingford aware what
were the precise circumstances under which you came here at Easter if
you do not immediately restore this unhappy girl to her friends. Do
you understand me? If it is not done at once I will make use of my
information--and you know what that means. You can defy me if you
please; but in that case you had better make up your mind to the
consequences; you will have to take your place as a--"

"Stop!" cried Wodehouse, with a shiver. "We're not by ourselves--we're
in the public street. What do you mean by talking like that here? Come
to my house, Wentworth--there's a good fellow--I've ordered a
dinner--"

"Be silent, sir!" said the Curate. "I give you till noon to-morrow;
after that I will spare you no longer. You understand what I mean. I
have been too merciful already. To-morrow, if everything is not
arranged to my satisfaction here--"

"It was my own name," said Wodehouse, sullenly; "nobody can say it
wasn't my own name. You couldn't do me any harm--you know you
wouldn't, either, for the sake of the girls; I'll--I'll give them a
thousand pounds or so, if I find I can afford it. Come, you don't mean
that sort of thing, you know," said the conscious criminal; "you
wouldn't do me any harm."

"If I have to fight for my own reputation I shall not spare you,"
cried the Curate. "Mind what I say! You are safe till twelve o'clock
to-morrow; but after that I will have no mercy--not for your sisters'
sake, not for any inducement in the world. If you want to be known