ing beating in his brain. With a heave of which he scarce
thought himself capable he boosted Robert high in the air. Mr.
Hedderwick flew up like a ball of india-rubber, rolled on to the top,
and fell over the other side with a wail of apprehension. Luckily the
mud was soft. But just as he touched the mud, Lionel came up with his
quarry and seized him by the collar. Tony turned and struggled like a
wildcat, but he was no match for the other. Lionel shortened his stick
and drove it upward. With a grunt of pain Tony collapsed. "Whew!" said
Lionel, vastly pleased as he contemplated the fallen foe. "There's one
of 'em, anyhow. I hope I haven't killed the brute."

CHAPTER XXII

A TELEGRAM AND SUNDRIES

The twelve-year-old son of Mr. Glew, who, in the intervals of school and
expiating the inevitable offenses of youth, was utilized to carry
telegrams, came whistling up the drive of The Quiet House. He rang the
bell, and in the fulness of time the summons was answered by a man
servant who had been engaged the day before. He was called Jones.
"Hello! young cock-sparrow!" said Jones cheerfully. "Brought a wire?
Who's it for? Her Imperial Highness or me?"

"Name o' Mortimer," said the youthful Glew. "Catch hold!"

"Mortimer's on the lawn, sunning himself," said Jones. "Better take it
straight round."

"I'm employed to hand telegrams into the house," said the boy with all
the dignity of a government servant. "It's your business to see ole
Mortimer gets it."

"And it's my business to give a clip 'side o' the 'ed," said Jones,
riposting. "So if you don't want a thick ear inside of a jiffy, my lad,
off you go."

Master Glew obeyed, soothing his outraged independence by a cry of "Yar!
red-nosed beef-eater!" as soon as he was out of reach. Jones, regretting
the ungiven clip, banged the door, and the libel-loving Glew went
pleasantly on his way.

He found Lionel in the summer-house and delivered the yellow envelope,
waiting dutifully to see if there was a prepaid reply, hoping for a
possible douceur. In this he was disappointed; for although the
telegram seemed to give unbounded pleasure to the recipient, no money
changed hands, and Master Glew retired, embittered and pessimistic. As
soon as he was alone Lionel read and read again the flimsy slip that
conveyed so much. The words danced before him in the sunlight:

"Lukos has died of measles. Stay where you are and keep
watching. Beatrice."

Lukos dead! The