but he's never been
without a quiet little home of his own, with a lady at the head of the
table--have ye, James?'

James groaned, but made no verbal answer.

'Now this loafer of a Lightfoot had a sister, and in respect of her,
there's no doubt about it that something discreditable might have been
laid to James. For once in his life, he acted like a fool, and he wrote
the girl a pile of letters. This fellow Lightfoot got hold of 'em, and
he's made James pay through the nose ever since. Now the girl's dead,
and the thing's so old, James has refused to keep this lazy beggar in
his idleness and his dissipations any longer. The fellow's tried to
frighten him with the letters, and, failing in that, he's worked up
this lie against the firm, has got two more blackguards to swear to
it, seemingly, and there's the whole truth about the matter. I suppose
they've got up some sort of a case, or Stubbs wouldn't be looking at it.
But we shall blow it all to smithereens when we get them in the
witness box. Now, that's the whole of the matter. Speak for yourself,
James--make a clean breast of it. Isn't that the truth? I haven't
exaggerated your iniquities, and you may just as well own up to 'em.'

He kicked his cousin a second time again by way of warning, and James
looked up for a second time, and being fortified by the expression of
his cousin's face, he spoke.

'It's horribly humiliating to have those things said,' he gasped. 'But
that is the truth about the whole transaction, General. God forgive
me--it's many years ago. But that's the miserable truth.'

'I think,' said the General, rising from the seat he had taken at his
host's invitation, 'that it is time for me to go home.'

'You can't do that, sir,' cried Polson. 'It's impossible. The weather is
worse than ever. Think of Irene going out in such a storm as this! You
were weatherbound here hours ago, and listen to it now. No carriage
could live on the hillside to-night.'

'That is probably true,' said the General with great dryness. 'And since
I am forced to intrude myself upon your hospitalities, I will ask you,
Polson, to be good enough to show me to my room.'

He walked from the apartment without further speech, Polson following
him; and when the sound of footsteps in the passage had died, John
Jervase rose and closed the door.

'Well, James,' he said with a grating laugh, 'that cock didn't fight
anyhow.'

CHAPTER IV

The oil-lamp which hung in the hall w