ing it over, and we have come to the conclusion that
perhaps, after all, it was a mistake. In short, my sister has thought
better of it; and, as she is naturally sensitive on the subject, I
undertook to tell you so, I don't suppose it will make any particular
difference to you. There are plenty of girls who would jump at the
chance of marrying your millions. But, of course, if you wish it, some
compensation could be made."

Jerry paused again. He had placed the matter on the most businesslike
footing that had occurred to him. Of course, the man must realise that
he was a rank outsider, and would understand that it was the best
method.

Kenyon heard him out in dead silence. He had found the ash-tray, but he
did not turn his head. After several dumb seconds, he walked across the
room to the window, and stood there. Finally he spoke.

"I don't suppose," he said, in his calm, expressionless drawl, "that you
have ever had a cowhiding in your life, have you?"

"What?" said Jerry.

He stared at Kenyon in frank amazement. Was the man mad?

"Never had a cowhiding in your life, eh?" repeated Kenyon, without
moving.

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Jerry.

Kenyon remained motionless.

"I mean," he said calmly, "that I've thrashed a man to a pulp before now
for a good deal less than you have just offered me. It's my special
treatment for curs. Suits 'em wonderfully. And suits me, too."

Jerry sprang to his feet in a whirl of wrath, but before he could utter
a word Kenyon suddenly turned.

"Go back to your sister," he said, in curt, stern tones, "and tell her
from me that I will discuss this matter with her alone. If she intends
to throw me over, she must come to me herself and tell me so. Go now!"

But Jerry stood halting between an open blaze of passion and equally
open discomfiture. He longed to hurl defiance in Kenyon's face, but some
hidden force restrained him. There was that about the man at that moment
which compelled submission. And so, at length, he turned without another
word, and walked straight from the room with as fine a dignity as he
could muster. By some remarkable means, Dick Kenyon had managed to get
the best of the encounter.

V

Not the next day, nor the next, did Violet Trelevan summon up courage to
face her outraged lover, and ask for her freedom. Jerry did not tell her
precisely what had passed, but she gathered from the information he
vouchsafed that Kenyon had not treated the matter