again, with his feet stretched out before him, and his hands still
thrust deep into his trousers' pockets. His face was white with rage. "I
always thought that he was a rogue; and, if this story is true, he has
proved himself one."

"How?" said Dino, quietly. "By living in poverty when he might have been
rich? By allowing others to take what was legally his own, because he
had a scruple about his moral right to it? If you knew all Brian
Luttrell's story you would know that his only fault has been that of
over-conscientiousness, over-scrupulousness. But you do not know the
story, perhaps you never will, and, therefore, you cannot judge."

"I do not want to judge. I have nothing to do with Mr. Stretton and his
story," said Percival.

"I will tell you----"

"I will not hear. You are impostors, the pair of you."

Dino's eyes flashed and his lips compressed themselves. His face, thin
from his late illness, assumed a wonderful sternness of expression.

"This is folly," he said, with a cold serenity of tone which impressed
Percival in spite of himself. "You will have to hear part of his story
sooner or later, Mr. Heron; for your own sake, for Miss Murray's sake,
you had better hear it now."

"Look here, my good man," said Percival, sitting up, and regarding his
visitor with contemptuous disgust, "don't go bringing Miss Murray's name
into this business, for, if you do, I'll call a policeman and give you
in charge for trying to extort money on false pretences, and you may
thank your priest's dress, or whatever it is, that I don't kick you out
of the house. Do you hear?"

"Sir," said Dino, mildly, but with great dignity, "have I asked you for
a single penny?"

Heron looked at him as if he would like to carry out the latter part of
his threat, but the young man was so frail, so thin, so feeble, that he
felt suddenly ashamed of having threatened him. He rose, planted his
back firmly against the mantelpiece, and pointed significantly to the
door. "Go!" he said, briefly. "And don't come back."

"If I go," said Dino, rising from his chair, "I shall take the express
train to Scotland at eight o'clock to-night, and I shall see Miss Murray
to-morrow morning."

The shot told. A sort of quiver passed over Percival's set face. He
muttered an angry ejaculation. "I'll see you d----d first," he said.
"You'll do nothing of the kind."

"Then will you hear my story?"

Heron paused. He could have ground his teeth with fury; but he