r voice was marvelously steady, ice-cold with scorn, a royal anger
increasing the glory of her eyes.

Rotherby's hand fell away from his sword. He realized that bluster
was not the most convenient weapon here. He addressed Mr. Caryll very
haughtily. "You are from France, sir, and something may be excused you.
But not quite all. You have used expressions that are not to be offered
to a person of my quality. I fear you scarcely apprehend it."

"As well, no doubt, as those who avoid you, sir," answered Mr. Caryll,
with cool contempt, his dislike of the man and of the business in which
he had found him engaged mounting above every other consideration.

His lordship frowned inquiry. "And who may those be?"

"Most decent folk, I should conceive, if this be an example of your
ways."

"By God, sir! You are a thought too pert. We'll mend that presently. I
will first convince you of your error, and you, Hortensia."

"It will be interesting," said Mr. Caryll, and meant it.

Rotherby turned from him, keeping a tight rein upon his anger; and so
much restraint in so tempestuous a man was little short of wonderful.
"Hortensia," he said, "this is fool's talk. What object could I seek to
serve?" She drew back another step, contempt and loathing in her face.
"This man," he continued, flinging a hand toward Jenkins, and checked
upon the word. He swung round upon the fellow. "Have you fooled me,
knave?" he bawled. "Is it true what this man says of you--that ye're no
parson at all?"

Jenkins quailed and shriveled. Here was a move for which he was all
unprepared, and knew not how to play to it. On the bridegroom's part it
was excellently acted; yet it came too late to be convincing.

"You'll have the license in your pocket, no doubt, my lord," put in
Mr. Caryll. "It will help to convince the lady of the honesty of your
intentions. It will show her that ye were abused by this thief for the
sake of the guinea ye were to pay him."

That was checkmate, and Lord Rotherby realized it. There remained him
nothing but violence, and in violence he was exceedingly at home--being
a member of the Hell Fire Club and having served in the Bold Bucks under
his Grace of Wharton.

"You damned, infernal marplot! You blasted meddler!" he swore, and
some other things besides, froth on his lips, the veins of his brow
congested. "What affair was this of yours?"

"I thought you desired me for a witness," Mr. Caryll reminded him.

"I did, let me perish