could be conceded.

Therefore, following to his own undoing, as though led by some actual
command, while but bidden gently by the softest voice in all the
kingdom, the young man entered the great drawing-room and waited as the
butler lessened the shadows by the aid of candles. He saw the smallest
foot in London just peep in and out, suddenly withdrawn as Mary Connynge
sat her down.

She held the message now in her hand. In her soul sat burning
impatience, in her heart contempt for the callow youth before her. Yet
to that youth her attitude seemed to speak naught but deference for
himself and doubt for this unusual situation.

"Sir, I am in some hesitation," said Mary Connynge. "There is indeed
none in the house except the servants. You say your message is of
importance--"

"It has indeed importance," responded Will. "It comes from my brother."

"Your brother, Mr. Law?"

"From my brother, John Law. He is in trouble. I make no doubt the
message will set all plain."

"'Tis most grievous that Lady Catharine return not till to-morrow."

Mary Connynge shifted herself upon her seat, caught once more with swift
modesty at the robe which fell from her throat. She raised her eyes and
turned them full upon the visitor. Never had the spell of curve and
color, never had the language of sex addressed this youth as it did now.
Intoxicating enough was this vague, mysterious speech even at this
inappropriate time. The girl knew that the mesh had fallen well. She but
caught again at her robe, and cast down again her eyes, and voiced again
her assumed anxiety. "I scarce know what to do," she murmured.

"My brother did not explain--" said Will.

"In that case," said Mary Connynge, her voice cool, though her soul was
hot with impatience, "it might perhaps be well if I took the liberty of
reading the message in Lady Catharine's absence. You say your brother is
in trouble?"

"Of the worst. Madam, to make plain with you, he is in prison, charged
with the crime of murder."

Mary Connynge sank back into her chair. The blood fled from her cheek.
Her hands caught each other in a genuine gesture of distress.

"In prison! John Law! Oh heaven! tell me how?" Her voice was trembling
now.

"My brother slew Mr. Wilson in a duel not of his own seeking. It
happened yesterday, and so swift I scarce can tell you. He took up a
quarrel which I had fixed to settle with Mr. Wilson myself. We all met
at Bloomsbury Square, my brother coming in gr