aid Davis, calmly. "There's two ways
of doing the thing: one is a compromise with the claimant, who turns out
to be that young Conway, the 'Smasher.'"

"Young Conway, the one-armed fellow?"

"Just so. The other is, to get hold of Dunn's papers. Now, I have
despatched a trusty hand to the Crimea to see about the first of these
plans. As for the other, I 'll do it myself."

"How so?"

"Just this way: you shall give me a written authority to demand from
Dunn all your family papers and documents, making me out to be your
agent for the Irish estates." Beecher started, and a slight cast of
derision marked his lip; but there was that in Grog's face that speedily
suppressed every temptation to sneer, and he grew sick with terror.
"Dunn will be for holding out," resumed Davis. "He 'll be for writing to
yourself for explanations, instructions, and so forth; and if I were a
fellow of his own sort, I 'd have to agree; but, being what I am,--Kit
Davis, you see,--I'll Just say: 'No gammon, my old gent. We don't mean
to lose this match, nor don't mean to let _you_ nobble _us_. Be on
the square, and it will be all the better for yourself.' _We 'll_ soon
understand each other."

A gentle tap at the door here interrupted Davis, and Beecher's servant,
with a most bland voice, said, "Her Ladyship is waiting breakfast, my
Lord," and disappeared.

"Who told _him?_" asked Beecher, a strange sense of pleasure vibrating
through him as this recognition reminded him of his newly acquired
station.

"I told him last night," said Davis, with a look that seemed to say,
"And of whatever I do, let there be no farther question."

As they entered the breakfast-room, they found Lizzy--I must ask pardon
if I return at times to their former names in speaking of her and
her husband--in conversation with Mr. Twining, that gentleman having
presented himself, and explained how he came to be there.

"Do you know Captain Davis, Twining? Let me present him to you," said
Beecher, blushing deeply as he spoke.

"Charmed, my Lord,--much honored,--fancy we have met before,--met at
York Spring Meet. Rataplan beat by a neck,--great fun!"

"It was n't great fun for me," growled out Grog; "I stood to win on
Bruiser."

"Excellent horse,--capital horse,--wonderful stride!"

"I'll tell you what he was," said Grog, sternly,--"a rare bad 'un!"

"You surprise--amaze me, Captain Davis,--quite astonish me! Always heard
a great character of Braiser!"

"You did,