acquaintance, had it been any other relative, had it been
Lucille, he would have fled for his life, he would have seen his hand
paralysed ere he would have extended it, he would have been struck
dumb rather than speak, he would have died before he would have
inflicted upon them the indignity of being seen in the company of a
common soldier. But the Haddock! 'twould do the Haddock a world of
good; the Haddock who had mocked him as he fought for sanity and life
on the lawn at Monksmead--the Haddock who "made love" to Lucille.

The Haddock affected not to see the hand.

"I--er--don't--ah--know you, surely, do I?" he managed to mumble as he
backed away and turned to escape.

"Probably not, dear Haddock," replied the embittered desperate Dam,
"but you're going to. We're going for a walk together."

"Are you--ah--dwunk, fellow? Do you suppose I walk
with--ah--_soldiers_?"

"I don't, my Fish, but you're going to now--if I have to carry you.
And if I have to do that I'll slap you well, when I put you down!"

"I'll call a policeman and give you in charge if you dare molest me.
What do you--ah--desire? Money?... If you come to my hotel this
evening--" and the hapless young man was swung round, his limp thin
arm tucked beneath a powerful and mighty one, and he was whirled along
at five miles an hour in the direction of the pier, gasping, feebly
struggling, and a sight to move the High Gods to pity.

"To the pier, my Haddock, and then back to the turnpike gate, and if
you let a yell, or signal a policeman, I'll twist your little neck.
Fancy our Haddock in a vulgar street row with a common soldier and in
the Police Court! Step it out, you worm!"

Then the agonized Haddock dropped pretence.

"Oh, Dam, I'm awf'ly sorry. I apologize, old chap. _Let up_--I
say--this is _awful_.... Good God, here's Lady Plonk, the Mayor's
wife!"

"You shall introduce me, Lovely One--but no, we mustn't annoy ladies.
You must _not_ go trying to introduce your low companions--nay,
relations--to Lady Plonkses. Step out--and look happy."

"Dam--for God's sake, let me go! I didn't know you, old chap. I swear
I didn't. The disgrace will kill me. I'll give you--"

"Look here, wee Fish, you offer me money again and I'll--I'll undress
you and run away with your clothes. I will, upon my soul."

"I shall call to this policeman," gasped the Haddock.

"And appear with your low-class _relation_ in Court? Not you, Haddock.
I'd swear you were my twin br