e governor's besetting sin, and never so much as remonstrated
with him," said Desmond.

"Because your father was invaluable to him, and cheap, neither of which
qualifications you possess. There is another matter against you--in
fact, several other matters. You dabble in theatricals."

Desmond O'Connor laughed.

"Do you object to theatricals?" he asked.

"Not in the least, excepting from a humanitarian point of view. My only
charge against your company is that you contemplate the mutilation of
'As You Like It.'"

"Better to aim high," suggested Desmond O'Connor, "than to be content
with second-rate melodrama. We have a capable instructor, and we are
very humble, I assure you. Our attitude is one of deprecation; be
merciful our prayer."

"Do you deserve mercy," asked the editor, "rendering none? But let that
pass. You at least, I am told, are among the passable players. But
Ebenezer Brown abhors plays and players; he detests billiards and cards;
strong drink is anathema to him. How can you expect to keep your
position--an actor, a billiard player, exponent of bridge, and one who
shouts and is shouted?"

"I can only rely upon your support. All these things are harmless," said
the reporter.

"Undoubtedly harmless in moderation. But the owner of this paper regards
horses, cards and billiards merely as media for gambling; he cannot
discriminate between cards as a pleasant relaxation and as a method for
playing 'beggar my neighbour.' Plays and strong drink he associates with
other vices. If you were a good and prudent young man, you would hide
your vices under a pious exterior--for home consumption."

"Hypocrisy!" cried Desmond O'Connor. "I would rather be anything than a
hypocrite. What right has old Ebenezer Brown to come dictating to me and
preaching piety? Have you heard his history?"

"Snatches of it," said Cairns. "It is the history of many other
successful men."

"He is a robber, a mere bird of prey. He has built on the ruins of
widows and orphans.' The whole town knows what he is, and he deceives no
man, excepting Gifford and himself. Does he expect to deceive the
Almighty?"

A sound behind them, half a cry and half a curse, caused the two men to
turn towards the door. There stood Ebenezer Brown, his accustomed pallor
changed to an unhealthy purple.

"Go!" he cried, barely able to articulate the word in his rage, as he
pointed an attenuated finger towards the door. "You are an insubordinate
young dog!