abitual calm, he saw that Fortune had given him a weapon with which he
might save his cousin.

Mr. Arthur Courtnay and the gendarmes picked themselves up; he made his
explanations, and wisely compensated them for the bruises they had
received in his fall. Then giving no more thought to Madame de
Belle-Ile, who sat awaiting him eagerly, he returned gloomily to his
hotel, reflecting on the carelessness which had delivered him into the
hands of an indefatigable imp of mischief. The upshot of his
reflection was a resolve to press his wooing to an immediate
conclusion. The next day and the day after, therefore, he redoubled
his lamentations that the smallness of his means prevented him from
going, as his natural honesty dictated, straight to Claire's father,
and asking for her hand, and protested that he dare not risk the loss
of her, which would work irreparable havoc in his life. It was only
another step to suggest that, once they were married, her father's
strong liking for him would soon bring about their forgiveness. He
pressed and pressed these points, pausing at times to declare the
vastness of his affection for her, until at last, against her better
judgment, and in spite of a lurking distrust of him, of which she could
not rid herself, she yielded to his persistence and the overwhelming
influence of his stronger personality, and consented to elope with him.

Two days later, as Tinker, Sir Tancred, and Lord Crosland were at
dejeuner, Claire and Courtnay passed them on their way to the gardens.

"I shouldn't wonder if those two ran away together," said Lord
Crosland; and his cheerful face fell gloomy.

"They have the air," said Sir Tancred coolly.

"Look here, you ought to interfere, don't you know? You ought,
really," said Lord Crosland, who had fallen under the fascination of
Claire's fresh charm.

"Why don't _you_?" said Sir Tancred.

"Well," said Lord Crosland uncomfortably, "I did go to Sir Everard, and
tell him to keep an eye on Courtnay; and he as good as told me to go
to--Jericho."

"Just like Bumpkin," said Sir Tancred contemptuously. "I'll bet you a
fiver they bolt to-night--by the train _des decaves_."

"I don't want to bet about it," said Lord Crosland very gloomily.

Their talk made Tinker thoughtful. It would have been easy enough to
settle the matter by revealing Courtnay's injudicious display of
affection towards Madame de Belle-Ile, but that was not Tinker's way.
He had a passion f