!" said Rotherby. "And I wish to the devil I had
bit my tongue out first."

"The loss to eloquence had been irreparable," sighed Mr. Caryll, his
eyes upon a beam of the ceiling.

Rotherby stared and choked. "Is there no sense in you, you gibbering
parrot?" he inquired. "What are you--an actor or a fool?"

"A gentleman, I hope," said Mr. Caryll urbanely. "What are you?"

"I'll learn you," said his lordship, and plucked at his sword.

"I see," said Mr. Caryll in the same quiet voice that thinly veiled his
inward laughter--"a bully!"

With more oaths, my lord heaved himself forward. Mr. Caryll was without
weapons. He had left his sword above-stairs, not deeming that he would
be needing it at a wedding. He never moved hand or foot as Rotherby bore
down upon him, but his greenish eyes grew keen and very watchful.
He began to wonder had he indulged his amusement overlong, and
imperceptibly he adjusted his balance for a spring.

Rotherby stretched out to lunge, murder in his inflamed eyes. "I'll
silence you, you--"

There was a swift rustle behind him. His hand--drawn back to thrust--was
suddenly caught, and ere he realized it the sword was wrenched from
fingers that held it lightly, unprepared for this.

"You dog!" said the lady's voice, strident now with anger and disdain.
She had his sword.

He faced about with a horrible oath. Mr. Caryll conceived that he was
becoming a thought disgusting.

Hoofs and wheels ground on the cobbles of the yard and came to a halt
outside, but went unheeded in the excitement of the moment. Rotherby
stood facing her, she facing him, the sword in her hand and a look in
her eyes that promised she would use it upon him did he urge her.

A moment thus--of utter, breathless silence. Then, as if her passion
mounted and swept all aside, she raised the sword, and using it as a
whip, she lashed him with it until at the third blow it rebounded to the
table and was snapped. Instinctively his lordship had put up his hands
to save his face, and across one of them a red line grew and grew and
oozed forth blood which spread to envelop it.

Gaskell advanced with a sharp cry of concern. But Rotherby waved him
back, and the gesture shook blood from his hand like raindrops. His face
was livid; his eyes were upon the woman he had gone so near betraying
with a look that none might read. Jenkins swayed, sickly, against the
table, whilst Mr. Caryll observed all with a critical eye and came to
the concl