ys himself and gives us cause to lay him
by the heels. But how will that help us?"

"Do you ask how? Why, if there is a plot, and we can discover it, we
might make terms with the secretary of state to avoid any disclosure
Wharton may intend concerning the South Sea matter."

"But that would be to discover my father for a Jacobite! What advantage
should we derive from that? 'Twould be as bad as t'other matter."

"Let me die, but ye're a slow-witted clod, Charles. D'ye think we can
find no way to disclose the plot and Mr. Caryll--and Everard, too, if
you choose--without including your father? My lord is timidly cautious,
and you may depend he'll not have put himself in their hands to any
extent just yet."

The viscount paced the chamber slowly in long strides, head bent in
thought, hands clasped behind him. "It will need consideration," said
he. "But it may serve, and I can count upon Green. He is satisfied that
Caryll befooled him at Maidstone, and that he kept the papers he carried
despite the thoroughness of Green's investigations. Moreover, he was
handled with some roughness by Caryll. For that and the other matter
he asks redress--thirsts for it. He's a very willing tool, as I have
found."

"Then see that you use him adroitly to your work," said his mother.
"Best not leave town at present, Charles."

"Why, no," said he. "I'll find me a lodging somewhere at hand, since my
fond sire is determined I shall pollute no longer the sacrosanctity of
his dwelling. Perhaps when I have pulled him out of this quicksand, he
will deign to mitigate the bitterness of his feelings for me. Though,
faith, I find life endurable without the affection he should have
consecrated to me."

"Ay," she said, looking up at him. "You are his son; too much his son,
I fear. 'Tis why he dislikes you so intensely. He sees in you the faults
to which he is blind in himself."

"Sweet mother!" said his lordship, bowing.

She scowled at him. She could deal in irony herself--and loved to--but
she detested to have it dealt to her.

He bowed again; gained the door, and would have passed out but that she
detained him.

"'Tis a pity, on some scores, to dispose so utterly of this Caryll,"
she said. "The pestilent coxcomb has his uses, and his uses, like
adversity's, are sweet."

He paused to question her with his eyes.

"He might have made a husband for Hortensia, and rid me of the company
of that white-faced changeling."

"Might he so?" quoth