e bribing of Munn to silence.

But the club had given Sprowl one hundred thousand dollars to perfect
its title; and Sprowl had reported the title perfect, all proceedings
ended, and the payment of one hundred thousand dollars to Amasa Munn, as
guardian of the child of O'Hara, in full payment for the O'Hara claims
to the club property.

Sprowl's coolness began to return. If five thousand dollars had stopped
Munn's mouth once, it might stop it again. Besides, how could Munn know
that Sprowl had kept for his own uses ninety-five thousand dollars of
his club's money, and had founded upon it the House of Sprowl of many
millions? He was quite cool now--a trifle anxious to know what Munn
meant to ask for, but confident that his millions were a buckler and a
shield to the honored name of Sprowl.

"I'll see this fellow, Munn, after breakfast," he said, lighting an
expensive cigar.

"I'll go with you," volunteered Lansing, casually, strolling out towards
the veranda.

"No, no!" called out Sprowl; "you'll only hamper me." But Lansing did
not hear him outside in the sunshine.

Agatha Sprowl laid one fair, heavily ringed hand on the table and pushed
her chair back. The Major gallantly waddled to withdraw her chair; she
rose with a gesture of thanks, and a glance which shot the Major through
and through--a wound he never could accustom himself to receive with
stoicism.

Mrs. Sprowl turned carelessly away, followed by her two Great Danes--a
superb trio, woman and dogs beautifully built and groomed, and
expensive enough to please even such an amateur as Peyster Sprowl,
M.F.H.

"Gad, Sprowl!" sputtered the Major, "your wife grows handsomer every
minute--and you grow fatter."

Sprowl, midway in a glass of claret, said: "This simple backwoods regime
is what she and I need."

Agatha Sprowl was certainly handsome, but the Major's eyesight was none
of the best. She had not been growing younger; there were lines; also a
discreet employment of tints on a very silky skin, which was not quite
as fresh as it had once been.

Dr. Lansing, strolling on the veranda with his pipe, met her and her big
dogs turning the corner in full sunlight. Coursay was with her, his
eager, flushed face close to hers; but he fell back when he saw his
kinsman Lansing, and presently retired to the lawn to unreel and dry out
a couple of wet silk lines.

Agatha Sprowl sat down on the veranda railing, exchanging a gay smile
across the lawn with Coursay; th