rticular?"

"Something very particular. Faddle, I do think you are a true
friend."

"You may say that. I have stuck to you always,--though you don't know
the kind of things my people say to me about it. They say I am going
to ruin myself because of you. The governor threatened to put me out
of the business altogether. But I'm a man who will be true to my
friend, whatever happens. I think you have been a little cool to me,
lately; but even that don't matter."

"Cool! If you knew the state that I'm in you wouldn't talk of a
fellow being cool! I'm so knocked about it all that I don't know what
I'm doing."

"I do take that into consideration."

"Now, I'll tell you what I am going to do." Then he stood still, and
looked Faddle full in the face. Faddle, sitting awe-struck on his
chair, returned the gaze. He knew that a moment of supreme importance
was at hand. "Faddle, I'll shoot that fellow down like a dog."

"Will you, indeed?"

"Like a dog;--if I can get at him. I should have no more compunction
in taking his life than a mere worm. Why should I, when I know that
he has sapped the very juice of my existence?"

"Do you mean,--do you mean,--that you would--murder him?"

"It would not be murder. Of course it might be that he would shoot me
instead. Upon the whole, I think I should like that best."

"Oh; a duel!" said Faddle.

"That's what I mean. Murder him! Certainly not. Though I should like
nothing half so well as to thrash him within an inch of his life.
I would not murder him. My plan is this,--I shall write to him a
letter inviting him to meet me in any corner of the globe that he
may select. Torrid zone or Arctic circle will be all the same to me.
You will have to accompany me as my second." Faddle shivered with
excitement and dread of coming events. Among other ideas there came
the thought that it might be difficult to get back from the Arctic
circle without money if his friend Tom should happen to be shot dead
in that locality. "But first of all," continued Tom, "you will have
to carry a letter."

"To the Colonel?" suggested Faddle.

"Of course. The man is now staying with friends of his named Albury
at a place called Stalham. From what I hear they are howling swells.
Sir Harry Albury is Master of the Hounds, and Lady Albury when she
is up in London has all the Royal Family constantly at her parties.
Stubbs is a cousin of his; but you must go right away up to him among
'em all, and deliver the letter