s face muddily white as the whiskey
bloat deserted it, shrunk inside his shabby clothes. He seemed, every
time de Spain darted a look at him, to grow visibly smaller, until his
loose bulk had shrivelled inside an armchair hardly large enough
normally to contain it.

De Spain with each epithet hurled at him took a dreaded forward step
toward Gale, and Druel, in the line of fire, brought his knees up and
his head down till he curled like a porcupine. Gale, game as he
undoubtedly was, cornered, felt perhaps recollections of Calabasas and
close quarters with the brown eyes and the burning face. What they
might mean in this little room, which de Spain was crossing step by
step, was food for thought. Nor did de Spain break his obstinate
silence until their burst of rage had blown. "You've arranged your
marriage," he said at length. "Now pull it."

"My cousin's ready to marry me, and she's goin' to do it to-night,"
cried Gale violently.

Duke, towering with rage, looked at de Spain and pointed to the hall
door. "You hear that! Get out of my house!" he cried, launching a
vicious epithet with the words.

"This isn't your house," retorted de Spain angrily. "This house is
Nan's, not yours. When she orders me out I'll go. Bring her down," he
thundered, raising his voice to shut off Duke, who had redoubled his
abuse. "Bring her into this room," he repeated. "We'll see whether she
wants to get married. If she does, I'll marry her. If she doesn't, and
you've been putting this up to force her into marrying, so help me
God, you'll be carried out of this room to-night, or I will." He
whirled on her uncle with an accusing finger. "You used to be a man,
Duke. I've taken from you here to-night what I would take from no man
on earth but for the sake of Nan Morgan. She asked me never to touch
you. But if you've gone into this thing to trap your own flesh and
blood, your dead brother's girl, living under your own protection, you
don't deserve mercy, and to-night you shall have what's coming to you.
I've fought you both fair, too fair. Now--before I leave--it's my girl
or both of you."

He was standing near Druel. Without taking his eyes off the other men,
he caught Druel with his left hand by the coat collar, and threw him
half-way across the room. "Get up-stairs, you old carrion, and tell
Nan Morgan, Henry de Spain is here to talk to her."

Druel, frightened to death, scrambled into the hall. He turned on de
Spain. "I'm an officer of