t. It was rather
ludicrous, really; reduced to speechlessness, he sat and stared
blankly at a voluble James, prattling away about things which didn't
matter. He found himself even admiring things about him: the way he
could bite pull-bread, for instance; the relish he had for his food.
But all this chatter! He was too uncomfortable to see that James's
present relish was chiefly for that. The Stilton and biscuits, the
glass of port were but salt to the handling of Jimmy Urquhart; for
James was a good fighter when he had a good man against him.

His parting words were these: "Now I shouldn't be surprised if she
found herself out of conceit with this beano before we start. She's
like that, you know. In such a case it's up to you to do something.
You and Lancelot between you. That's an irresistible pair. I defy a
gentlewoman, and a mother, to lose heart. Come in when you can. Tell
us tales of far Cashmere. Sing us songs of Araby. I won't promise to
join in the chorus--if you have choruses; but I shall revel in my
quiet way. Now don't forget. I count upon you. By-bye."

"D---- your eyes, oh, d---- your eyes!" said Jimmy, shouldering the hill
as he went his way.

Really, he began to lose nerve a little--and for such a sanguine man a
little was much. It was as if he was on the downward slide of the
wave, no longer cresting the flow, which surged on ahead of him,
carrying him no longer. The fact was that he was now at the difficult
part of an enterprise which had been so far too easy. At the moment it
was not obvious to him what he was to do. James was aware, that was
plain; and James had a strong hand--if he knew that too, he had an
unassailable hand. But did he? Urquhart thought not. He chuckled
grimly to himself as he saw his complacent host taken at his word. He
looked at his wrist. "Half-past three? D---- him, I'll go and see her
now."

But Lucy, as James had truly put it, held firmly to the bank. Glad of
him she certainly was, amused by his audacities; but not tempted to
plunge. He saw very soon that he must be careful with her. A reference
to the Hardanger woods at night, to the absence of nightingales,
absence of the dark--she veiled her eyes with blankness, and finally
shut down the topic. "Don't let's talk of what is not in Norway. Tell
me what is there. I have to keep Lancelot supplied you know." No man
has so little self-esteem as to suppose that a woman can definitely
put him away. Urquhart had plenty, and pre