tions have amply justified me in detaining your iron chest and
other valuables, until I find out how you may have come by them."

This was the _coup de grace_ to Jennings, who looked scared and
terrified:--what! all gone--all, his own beloved hoard, and that
dear-bought crock of gold? Then Sir John added, after one minute of
dignified and indignant silence,

"Begone!--Jonathan put him out; and if you will kick him out of the
hall-door on your private account, I'll forgive you for it."

With that, the liveried Antinous raised the little monster by the small
of the back, drew him struggling from the presence, and lifting him up
like a football, inflicted one enormous kick that sent him spinning down
the whole flight of fifteen marble stairs. This exploit accomplished to
the satisfaction of all parties, Jonathan naturally enough returned to
look for Grace; and his master, with a couple of friends who had run to
the door to witness the catastrophe, returned immediately before him.

"Lord George Pypp, you will oblige me by leaving the young woman alone;"
was Sir John's first angry reproof when he perceived the rustic beauty
radiant with indignation at some mean offence.

"The worthy baronet wa-ants her for himself," drawled Pypp.

"Say that again, my lord, and you shall follow Jennings."

Whilst the noble youth was slowly elaborating a proper answer,
Jonathan's voice was heard once more: he had long looked very white,
kept both hands clenched, and seemed as if, saving his master's
presence, he could, and would have vanquished the whole room of them.

"Master, have I your honour's permission to speak?"

"No, Jonathan, I'll speak for you; if, that is to say, Lord George
will--"

"Paardon me, Sir John Devereux Vincent, your feyllow--and his master,
are not fit company for Lord George Pypp;"--and he leisurely proceeded
to withdraw.

"Stop a minute, Pypp, I've just one remark to make," hurriedly exclaimed
Mr. Lionel Poynter, "if Sir John will suffer me; Vincent, my good
friend, we are wrong--Pypp's wrong, and so am I. First then, let me beg
pardon of a very pretty girl, for making her look prettier by blushes;
next, as the maid really is engaged to you, my fine fellow, it is not
beneath a gentleman to say, I hope that you'll forgive me for too warmly
admiring your taste; as for George's imputation, Vincent--"

"I beyg to observe," enunciated the noble scion, "I'm awf, Poynter."

He gradually drew himself away, and t