til his retreating chin almost disappeared
under the thick lower lip.

Orchil twiddled his long, crinkly, pointed moustache and glanced
interrogatively at Harmon; then he yawned, stretched his arms, and rose,
pocketing the check, which Ruthven passed to him, with a careless nod of
thanks.

As they filed out of the card-room into the dim passageway, Orchil
leading, a tall, shadowy figure in evening dress stepped back from the
door of the card-room against the wall to give them right of way, and
Orchil, peering at him without recognition in the dull light, bowed
suavely as he passed, as did Fane, craning his curved neck, and Harmon
also, who followed in his wake.

But when Ruthven came abreast of the figure in the passage and bowed his
way past, a low voice from the courteous unknown, pronouncing his name,
halted him short.

"I want a word with you, Mr. Ruthven," added Selwyn; "that card-room
will suit me, if you please."

But Ruthven, recovering from the shock of Selwyn's voice, started to
pass him without a word.

"I said that I wanted to speak to you!" repeated Selwyn.

Ruthven, deigning no reply, attempted to shove by him; and Selwyn,
placing one hand flat against the other's shoulder, pushed him violently
back into the card-room he had just left, and, stepping in behind him,
closed and locked the door.

"W-what the devil do you mean!" gasped Ruthven, his hard, minutely
shaven face turning a deep red.

"What I say," replied Selwyn; "that I want a word or two with you."

He stood still for a moment, in the centre of the little room, tall,
gaunt of feature, and very pale. The close, smoky atmosphere of the
place evidently annoyed him; he glanced about at the scattered cards,
the empty oval bottles in their silver stands, the half-burned remains
of cigars on the green-topped table. Then he stepped over and opened the
only window.

"Sit down," he said, turning on Ruthven; and he seated himself and
crossed one leg over the other. Ruthven remained standing.

"This--this thing," began Ruthven in a voice made husky and indistinct
through fury, "this ruffianly behaviour amounts to assault."

"As you choose," nodded Selwyn, almost listlessly, "but be quiet; I've
something to think of besides your convenience."

For a few moments he sat silent, thoughtful, narrowing eyes considering
the patterns on the rug at his feet; and Ruthven, weak with rage and
apprehension, was forced to stand there awaiting the pleasure