ft promptly. The swiftest horses could not get him there,
and these were not the days of motor-cars. Yet it was plain Barouche
meant to stick to it, and he promptly said:

"You haven't the right time, beetle. The poll closes only when the train
leaves, and your watch doesn't show that, so don't put on airs yet."

"I'll put on airs if I've won, m'sieu'," Denzil answered quietly, for he
saw people in the tram were trying to hear.

Barouche had been recognized, and a murmur of cheering began, followed
by a hum of disapproval, for Barouche had lost many friends since Carnac
had come into the fray. A few folk tried to engage Barouche in talk, but
he responded casually; yet he smiled the smile which had done so much
for him in public life, and the distance lessened to the station. The
tram did not go quite to the station, and as it stopped, the two men
hurried to the doors. As they did so, an engine gave a scream, and
presently, as they reached the inside of the station, they saw passing
out at the far end, the New York train.

"She started five minutes late, but she did start," said Denzil, and
there was malice in his smile.

As he looked at his watch, he saw Junia passing out of a door into the
street, but Barode Barouche did not see her--his eyes were fixed on the
departing train.

For a moment Barouche stood indecisive as to whether he should hire a
locomotive and send some one after the train, and so get in touch with
Luzanne in that way, or send her a telegram to the first station where
the train would stop in its schedule; but presently he gave up both
ideas. As he turned towards the exit of the station, he saw Denzil, and
he came forward.

"I think you've won, mon petit chien," he said with vindictiveness, "but
my poll comes to-morrow night, and I shall win."

"No game is won till it's all played, m'sieu', and this innings is
mine!"

"I am fighting a bigger man than you, wasp," snarled Barouche.

"As big as yourself and bigger, m'sieu'," said Denzil with a smile.

There was that in his tone which made Barouche regard him closely.
He saw there was no real knowledge of the relationship of Carnac and
himself in Denzil's eyes; but he held out his hand with imitation
courtesy, as though to say good-bye.

"Give me a love-clasp, spider," he said with a kind of sneer. "I'd like
your love as I travel to triumph." A light of hatred came into
Denzil's eyes. "Beetledog--wasp--spider" he had been called by this big