hat a pity he had not known it before!

CHAPTER XXIX.

"I heed not custom, creed, nor law;
I care for nothing that ever I saw--
I terribly laugh with an oath and sneer,
When I think that the hour of Death draws near!"

W. WINTER.

Errington's first idea, on leaving Winsleigh House, was to seek an
interview with Sir Francis Lennox, and demand an explanation. He could
not understand the man's motive for such detestable treachery and
falsehood. His anger rose to a white heat as he thought of it, and he
determined to "have it out" with him whatever the consequences might be.
"No apology will serve his turn," he muttered. "The scoundrel! He has
lied deliberately--and, by Jove, he shall pay for it!"

And he started off rapidly in the direction of Piccadilly, but on the
way he suddenly remembered that he had no weapon with him, not even a
cane wherewith to carry out his intention of thrashing Sir Francis, and
calling to mind a certain heavy horsewhip, that hung over the
mantel-piece in his own room, he hailed a hansom, and was driven back to
his house in order to provide himself with that implement of castigation
before proceeding further. On arriving at the door, to his surprise he
found Lorimer who was just about to ring the bell.

"Why, I thought you were in Paris?" he exclaimed.

"I came back last night," George began, when Morris opened the door, and
Errington, taking his friend by the arm hurried him into the house. In
five minutes he had unburdened himself of all his troubles--and had
explained the misunderstanding about Violet Vere and Thelma's consequent
flight. Lorimer listened with a look of genuine pain and distress on his
honest face.

"Phil, you _have_ been a fool!" he said candidly. "A positive fool, if
you'll pardon me for saying so. You ought to have told Thelma everything
at first,--she's the very last woman in the world who ought to be kept
in the dark about anything. Neville's feelings? Bother Neville's
feelings! Depend upon it the poor girl has heard all manner of stories.
She's been miserable for some time--Duprez noticed it." And he related
in a few words the little scene that had taken place at Errington Manor
on the night of the garden-party, when his playing on the organ had
moved her to such unwonted emotion.

Philip heard him in moody silence,--how had it happened, he wondered,
that others,--comparative stra