"Simply that until this moment I wasn't sure if I had one yet."

"But—your fellow—"

"Yes. I sent him out this morning to buy me one."

"To buy you—a house?"

"Yes; also horses and carriages, and many other things, chief among them—a tailor."

The Viscount gasped.

"But—my dear fellow—to leave all that to your—servant! Oh, Gad!"

"But, as the Marquis remarked, Peterby is an inestimable fellow."

The Viscount eyed Barnabas with brows wrinkled in perplexity; then all at once his expression changed.

"By the way," said he, "talking of Carnaby, he's got the most beautiful eye you ever saw!"

"Oh?" said Barnabas, beginning to tuck in the ends of his neckerchief.

"And a devil of a split lip!"

"Oh?" said Barnabas again.

"And his coat had been nearly ripped off him; I saw it under his cape!"

"Ah?" said Barnabas, still busy with his neckcloth.

"And naturally enough," pursued the Viscount, "I've been trying to imagine—yes, Bev, I've been racking my brain most damnably, wondering why you—did it?

"It was in the wood," said Barnabas.

"So it was you, then?"

"Yes, Dick."

"But—he didn't even mark you?"

"He lost his temper, Dick."

"You thrashed—Carnaby! Gad, Bev, there isn't a milling cove in

England could have done it."

"Yes—there are two—Natty Bell, and Glorious John."

"And I'll warrant he deserved it, Bev."

"I think so," said Barnabas; "it was in the wood, Dick."

"The wood? Ah! do you mean where you—"

"Where I found her lying unconscious."

"Unconscious! And with him beside her! My God, man!" cried the

Viscount, with a vicious snap of his teeth. "Why didn't you kill him?"

"Because I was beside her—first, Dick."

"Damn him!" exclaimed the Viscount bitterly.

"But he is your friend, Dick."

"Was, Bev, was! We'll make it in the past tense hereafter."

"Then you agree with your father after all?"

"I do, Bev; my father is a cursed, long-sighted, devilish observant man! I'll back him against anybody, though he is such a Roman. But oh, the devil!" exclaimed the Viscount suddenly, "you can never ride in the race after this."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll meet Carnaby; and that mustn't happen."

"Why not?"

"Because he'll shoot you."

"You mean he'd challenge me? Hum," said Barnabas, "that is awkward!

But I can't give up the race."

"Then what shall you do?"

"Risk it, Dick."

But now, Mr. Smivvle, who from an adjoining corner had been an interested spectator thus far, emerged, and flourishing off the curly-brimmed hat, bowed profoundly, and addressed himself to the Viscount.

"I believe," said he, smiling affably, "that I have the pleasure to behold Viscount Devenham?"

"The same, sir," rejoined the Viscount, bowing stiffly.

"You don't remember me, perhaps, my Lord?"

The Viscount regarded the speaker stonily, and shook his head.

"No, I don't, sir."