Mr. Fullarton held
Royston capable of any earthly crime. His own short-lived anger was
instantly annihilated; the sweat of mortal terror broke out over all his
livid face; his lips could hardly gasp out an unintelligible prayer for
mercy.

The soldier's stern face settled into an expression of contempt: in his
gentlest moods he could find little sympathy for purely physical fear.

"Don't faint," he said; "there is no occasion for it. Do you think I
shall 'slay you as I slew the Egyptian yesterday?' Well, I have scanty
respect for your office, especially when its privileges are abused. If
it were not for good reasons, I would serve you worse than I did that
drunken scoundrel who frightened you almost to death down there among
the vines; but that don't suit my purpose. Listen: if you dare to
interfere again, by word, or deed, or sign, in the affairs of me and
mine, I know a better way of making you repent it."

As soon as he saw that there was no real danger to life or limb, the
chaplain's composure began to return. He launched forth immediately into
a gallant though incoherent defiance. Royston's features never for an
instant changed or softened in their scorn.

"Fair words," he retorted; "but I'll make your bubbles burst. You don't
monopolize _all_ the resources of the Private Inquiry Office;" and,
stooping down, he whispered a dozen words in the other's ear. They
related to a charge brought against Mr. Fullarton years ago, so
circumstantial and difficult to disprove that, with all the advantages
of counter-evidence at hand, it had well-nigh borne him down. He knew
right well that, if it were once revived here abroad, where the lightest
suspicion is caught up and used so readily, the consequences would be
nothing short of utter ruin. He was a poor man, with a large family. No
wonder if he quailed.

"You know--you know," he gasped, "that it is a vile, cruel falsehood."

To do him justice, he spoke the simple truth there.

With a cold, tranquil satisfaction, the major contemplated his victim's
agony.

"I choose to know nothing about it, except that it carries more
probability than most stories one hears. The world in general is,
fortunately, not incredulous, and I have seen a man 'broke' on lighter
evidence. Well, you will take your own course, and I shall take mine. I
fancy we understand each other--at last."

By a superhuman effort the unlucky ecclesiastic did contrive to mutter
something about his "determin