ing either. Can't think what's
happened to you youngsters to-day. When I was your age...." He broke
off, realising that Micky was not listening. "Ashton's in the
smoking-room," he said uneasily.

Micky went on; his hands were clenched, his teeth set.

The smoking-room door was half ajar; he could see that there were
several men there. There was a clink of glasses and the sound of
voices talking in a rather subdued way.

Micky paused. He knew that if Ashton were there it would mean a scene,
and a scene in any one else's house.... The thought snapped at the
sound of his own name.

"Mellowes! Well, you do surprise me." There was a chuckle. "Always
thought he was one of the good boys.... It just shows that you never
know a man till you find him out. Rather an error of judgment to
choose Paris, eh? Who did you say she was?"

"A girl from Eldred's--pretty little thing. I knew her before he did.
As a matter of fact, it was only when I cooled off...."

That was Ashton's voice; Micky could not see him, but he could picture
vividly the eloquent shrug, the meaning smile with which he finished
his incomplete sentence.

The hot blood died down, leaving him cool and alert. He pushed the
door wide and walked into the room.

The group of men by the fireplace scattered; some one coughed
deprecatingly; some one else seized upon a siphon and began filling an
already full glass recklessly.

Nobody spoke.

Micky kicked the door to behind him, shutting it with a slam.

His eyes went straight to Ashton--a pale Ashton, trying to smile
unconcernedly and brazen the situation out.

"I'll give you two minutes in which to apologise," Micky said in a
voice of steel. "Two minutes in which to retract the damned lies
you've just been saying in this room--or--or I'll thrash you within an
inch of your life."

In the silence following one could have heard a pin drop. Every one
looked at Ashton. Micky took out his watch.

It seemed an eternity before Ashton spoke.

"If you've been listening----" he began blustering.

He moistened his dry lips.

"What I said is the truth," he broke out spluttering. "You were in
Paris with...." But the name was never spoken--Micky's clenched fist
shot out and struck him right in the mouth.

In a moment the room was in an uproar; half a dozen men rushed at
Micky and pinned his arms.

"Mellowes--for God's sake--if Hooper comes in...."

Ashton had staggered back against the wall; his mouth was cut and