s rubbish?"

"I offer you my excuses for the contents of my pockets," said Mr.
Caryll. "Ye see, I did not expect to be honored by your inquisition. Had
I but known--"

Mr. Green struck an attitude. "Now attend to me, sir! I am a servant of
His Majesty's Government."

"His Majesty's Government cannot be sufficiently congratulated," said
Mr. Caryll, the irrepressible.

Mr. Green banged the table. "Are ye rallying me, ecod!"

"You have upset the ink," Mr. Caryll pointed out to him.

"Damn the ink!" swore the spy. "And damn you for a Tom o' Bedlam! I ask
you again--what d'ye mean, giving me this rubbish?"

"You asked me to turn out my pockets."

"I asked you for the letter ye have brought Lord Ostermore."

"I am sorry," said Mr. Caryll, and eyed the other sympathetically. "I
am sorry to disappoint you. But, then, you assumed too much when you
assumed that I had such a letter. I have obliged you to the fullest
extent in my power. I do not think you show a becoming gratitude."

Mr. Green eyed him blankly a moment; then exploded. "Ecod, sir! You are
cool."

"It is a condition we do not appear to share."

"D'ye say ye've brought his lordship no letter from France?" thundered
the spy. "What else ha' ye come to England for?"

"To study manners, sir," said Mr. Caryll, bowing.

That was the last drop in the cup of Mr. Green's endurance. He waved his
men towards the gentleman from France. "Find it," he bade them shortly.

Mr. Caryll drew himself up with a great dignity, and waved the bailiffs
back, his white face set, an unpleasant glimmer in his eyes. "A moment!"
he cried. "You have no authority to go to such extremes. I make no
objection to being searched; but every objection to being soiled, and
I'll not have the fingers of these scavengers about my person."

"And you are right, egad!" cried Lord Ostermore, advancing. "Harkee, you
dirty spy, this is no way to deal with gentlemen. Be off, now, and take
your carrion-crows with you, or I'll have my grooms in with their whips
to you."

"To me?" roared Green. "I represent the Secretary of State."

"Ye'll represent a side of raw venison if you tarry here," the earl
promised him. "D'ye dare look me in the eye? D'ye dare, ye rogue? D'ye
know who I am? And don't wag that pistol, my fine fellow! Be off, now!
Away with you!"

Mr. Green looked his name. The rosiness was all departed from his
cheeks; he quivered with suppressed wrath. "If I go--giving way to
constraint