what he said. There can be little doubt that it was so. He was
addicted to Canary, and so indeed was Sir John Killigrew, and he had
been dining with Sir John. He was of those who turn quarrelsome in
wine--which is but another way of saying that when the wine was in and
the restraint out, his natural humour came uppermost untrammelled. The
sight of Sir Oliver standing there gave the lad precisely what he needed
to indulge that evil humour of his, and he may have been quickened
in his purpose by the presence of those other gentlemen. In his
half-fuddled state of mind he may have recalled that once he had struck
Sir Oliver and Sir Oliver had laughed and told him that none would
believe it.

He drew rein suddenly as he came abreast of the group, so suddenly that
he pulled his horse until it almost sat down like a cat; yet he retained
his saddle. Then he came through the snow that was all squelched and
mudded just about the forge, and leered at Sir Oliver.

"I am from Arwenack," he announced unnecessarily. "We have been talking
of you."

"You could have had no better subject of discourse," said Sir Oliver,
smiling, for all that his eyes were hard and something scared--though
his fears did not concern himself.

"Marry, you are right; you make an engrossing topic--you and your
debauched father."

"Sir," replied Sir Oliver, "once already have I deplored your mother's
utter want of discretion."

The words were out of him in a flash under the spur of the gross insult
flung at him, uttered in the momentary blind rage aroused by that
inflamed and taunting face above him. No sooner were they sped than he
repented them, the more bitterly because they were greeted by a guffaw
from the rustics. He would have given half his fortune in that moment to
have recalled them.

Master Godolphin's face had changed as utterly as if he had removed a
mask. From flushed that it had been it was livid now and the eyes were
blazing, the mouth twitching. Thus a moment he glowered upon his enemy.
Then standing in his stirrups he swung aloft his whip.

"You dog!" he cried, in a snarling sob. "You dog!" And his lash came
down and cut a long red wheal across Sir Oliver's dark face.

With cries of dismay and anger the others, the parson, the Justice
and the rustics got between the pair, for Sir Oliver was looking very
wicked, and all the world knew him for a man to be feared.

"Master Godolphin, I cry shame upon you," ex-claimed the parson. "If