er, or something nearer--hang him! "A
man who is capable of practising such deception isn't fit to be trusted
with a lady. I shall get you the sack."

"You ought to be a good judge of deception," said I. "Have you told Miss
Randolph yet about that trip of yours with the Duke of Burford last
summer?"

Sherlock-Fauntleroy got as red as a beet, and the Fauntleroy
characteristics predominated. I thought tears were about to start from
his eyes, but he merely relapsed into another fit of the stutters.
"Wh--hat d--do you mean?" he chattered. "Y--you don't know what you're
talking about."

"Oh yes, I do," I said, growing calmer as he grew excited, "a good deal
more than you knew what you were talking about when you claimed the Duke
as your friend. I happened to be with him at the time last summer, when
you said you were driving him on your car."

"_You_ with the Duke!" sneered Sherlock. "Who would believe that?"

"Miss Randolph would," said I. "The Duke of Burford was driving his own
car last summer. Now you can guess how I happened to be with him. There
was just one other man on board; your friend Montie, Lord Lane, you
know. Lord Lane was another of my old masters." (Hope you don't object
to being referred to as an Old Master, and I _was_ your fag at Eton.) "I
know him very well. He can do a good many things, can Lord Lane, but he
can't drive a motor-car. And another little detail you've got wrong. He
isn't running about on the Riviera. He is at Davos Platz. I've had a
letter from him there the other day; he's very thoughtful of his old
servants. Miss Randolph would think it queer if you said you expected to
meet Lord Lane on the Riviera with your car, and I showed her a letter
from him which proved he'd been at Davos for the last six weeks. Or he
wouldn't mind telegraphing if I wired."

"You're a regular blackmailer," gasped Payne.

"Not at all," said I. "I suggest a bargain, but I don't want money. All
I want is not to lose my job. Don't you give me away, and I won't give
you away. Do you agree to that compromise and no more said?"

We had been holding each other by the eye, but suddenly his wandered,
assisted by the monocle. So odd an expression sat on his face that I
followed his straying glance, and saw what he saw--Miss Randolph! Miss
Randolph at one of the long French windows of the club-house, with
several other ladies. Without a second's hesitation I gripped Payne by
the arm and dragged him across the lawn,