re him would have its disagreeableness, but Buckland was not one of
those over-civilised men who shrink from every scene of painful
explanation. The detection of a harmful lie was decidedly congenial to
him--especially when he and his had been made its victims. He was now
at liberty to indulge that antipathetic feeling towards Godwin Peak
which sundry considerations had hitherto urged him to repress. Whatever
might have passed between Peak and Sidwell, he could not doubt that his
sister's peace was gravely endangered; the adventurer (with however
much or little sincerity) had been making subtle love to her. Such a
thought was intolerable. Buckland's class-prejudice asserted itself
with brutal vigour now that it had moral indignation for an ally.

He had never been at Peak's lodgings, but the address was long since
noted. Something of disdain came into his eyes as he approached the row
of insignificant houses. Having pulled the bell, he stood at his full
height, looking severely at the number painted on the door.

Mrs. Roots opened to him, and said that her lodger was at home. He gave
his name, and after waiting for a moment was led to the upper floor.
Godwin, who had breakfasted later than usual, still sat by the table.
On Warricombe's entrance, he pushed back his chair and rose, but with
deliberate movement, scarcely smiling. That Buckland made no offer of a
friendly hand did not surprise him. The name of his visitor had alarmed
him with a sudden presentiment. Hardening his features, he stood in
expectancy.

'I want to have a talk with you,' Buckland began. 'You are at leisure,
I hope?'

'Pray sit down.'

Godwin pointed to a chair near the fire, but Warricombe, having thrown
his hat on to a side table, seated himself by one of the windows. His
motions proved that he found it difficult to support a semblance of
courtesy.

'I have come down from London on purpose to see you. Unless I am
strangely misinformed you have been guilty of conduct which I shouldn't
like to call by its proper name.'

Remembering that he was in a little house, with thin partitions, he
kept his voice low, but the effort this cost him was obvious. He looked
straight at Peak, who did not return the gaze.

'Indeed?' said Godwin, coldly. 'What is my crime?'

'I am told that you have won the confidence of my relatives by what
looks like a scheme of gross dishonesty.'

'Indeed? Who has told you so?'

'No one in so many words. But I happened