ged by
Rose: Harry showed the rope the Countess held him by; Mr. George made a
singular face, and seriously advised Drummond to give up the project.

'Don't rub that woman the wrong way,' he said, in a private colloquy
they had. 'By Jingo, she's a Tartar. She was as a gal, and she isn't
changed, Lou Harrington. Fancy now: she knew me, and she faced me out,
and made me think her a stranger! Gad, I'm glad I didn't speak to the
others. Lord's sake, keep it quiet. Don't rouse that woman, now, if you
want to keep a whole skin.'

Drummond laughed at his extreme earnestness in cautioning him, and
appeared to enjoy his dread of the Countess. Mr. George would not tell
how he had been induced to change his mind. He repeated his advice with
a very emphatic shrug of the shoulder.

'You seem afraid of her,' said Drummond.

'I am. I ain't ashamed to confess it. She's a regular viper, my boy!'
said Mr. George. 'She and I once were pretty thick--least said soonest
mended, you know. I offended her. Wasn't quite up to her mark--a
tailor's daughter, you know. Gad, if she didn't set an Irish Dragoon
Captain on me!--I went about in danger of my life. The fellow began
to twist his damned black moustaches the moment he clapped eyes on
me--bullied me till, upon my soul, I was almost ready to fight him! Oh,
she was a little tripping Tartar of a bantam hen then. She's grown
since she's been countessed, and does it peacocky. Now, I give you fair
warning, you know. She's more than any man's match.'

'I dare say I shall think the same when she has beaten me,' quoth
cynical Drummond, and immediately went and gave orders for his horse to
be saddled, thinking that he would tread on the head of the viper.

But shortly before the hour of his departure, Mrs. Evremonde summoned
him to her, and showed him a slip of paper, on which was written, in an
uncouth small hand:

'Madam: a friend warns you that your husband is coming here. Deep
interest in your welfare is the cause of an anonymous communication. The
writer wishes only to warn you in time.'

Mrs. Evremonde told Drummond that she had received it from one of the
servants when leaving the breakfast-room. Beyond the fact that a man on
horseback had handed it to a little boy, who had delivered it over to
the footman, Drummond could learn nothing. Of course, all thought of the
journey to Lymport was abandoned. If but to excogitate a motive for the
origin of the document, Drummond was forced to rem