y, in one hand his handkerchief,
while with the other he gracefully waved his laced hat, "an affair of
honour, I perceive. On my soul now, it gives me real pain to intrude
myself thus--it desolates me, positively it does--but, gentlemen, this
cannot go on."

"Cannot go on--the devil, sir!" broke in the Captain loudly, "and who
says so?"

"I say so, sir," returned Mr. Tawnish, with his slow smile, "and should
you care to hear it, I'll say so again, sir."

"On what grounds?" says Hammersley, frowning.

"On the grounds that mine is the prior claim to the sword of Sir Harry
Raikes."

"Bah!" cries Raikes, with a short laugh, "give the count, Hammersley,
and we will begin."

Mr. Tawnish closed and fobbed his snuff-box.

"I think not, sir," says he, very quietly.

"Mr. Tawnish," says Jack, "I have waited over a month to fight this
gentleman."

"Sir John," says Tawnish, bowing, "your pardon, but I have waited even
longer--"

"Whatever quarrel you may have with me, sir," Raikes broke in, "shall
wait my time and pleasure."

"I think not," says Mr. Tawnish again, his smile more engaging and his
blue eyes more dreamy than ever; "on the contrary, I have a reason here
which I venture to hope will make you change your mind."

"A reason?" says Raikes, starting as he met the other's look. "What
reason?"

"That!" says Mr. Tawnish, and tossed something to Sir Harry's feet.

Now as it lay there upon the sand, I saw that it was a small gold
locket. For maybe a full minute there was a dead silence, while Raikes
stared down at the locket, and Mr. Tawnish took a pinch of snuff.

"Who gave you this?" says Raikes suddenly, and in a strange voice.

Mr. Tawnish flicked-to the enamelled lid of his snuff-box very
delicately with one white finger.

"I took it," says he, blandly, "from a poor devil who sat shivering in
his shirt."

"You!" says Raikes, in so low a tone as to be almost a whisper--"you?"

"I," returned Mr. Tawnish, with a bow.

"Liar!" says Raikes, in the same dangerously suppressed murmur.

"As to that," says Mr. Tawnish, shrugging his shoulders, "I will leave
you to judge for yourself, sir."

With the words, he slipped off his wig and turned his back to us for a
moment. When he fronted us again, there stood our highwayman, his
restless eyes gleaming evilly through the slits of his half-mask, the
mocking smile upon his lips, the same grotesque figure beyond all doubt,
despite his silks and laces.

"So, my