"He has found out that the citadel cannot be easily taken, and
he's ready to give up without striking a blow."

Leicester looked on the ground moodily. In his heart of hearts he was
ashamed of the whole business, but he felt he would rather do anything
than confess it before these fellows.

"I hear he's turned teetotaller, too," went on Sprague, who seemed
anxious to pay off old scores. "Who knows? we may see Leicester posing
as a temperance advocate yet."

Leicester rose to his feet as if unable to contain himself. To be
sneered at by a man like Sprague was too much. He seemed about to give
vent to an insulting remark, then as if thinking better of it checked
himself. He rung a bell which stood on the table.

A waiter came in answer to his summons.

"Whisky," he said.

"A large or a small one, sir?"

"Bring--bring a bottle," he said savagely.

"I say, Leicester, don't do that!" said Purvis.

"Don't do what?"

"Don't start drinking again."

Again Leicester was almost overwhelmed with anger. How dare these
fellows seek to interfere with him!

"May I ask my dear Moody and Sankey when the control of my actions came
within your province?" he said, with a strong effort at self-control.

"Don't take it in that way, old man. I'm sure you are ashamed of the
other business, and----"

"What business?"

"You know what business. You can't go on with it. You would never have
thought of it if you hadn't been drinking too much; and really, I was
awfully glad when I saw that you were giving it up."

Leicester did not reply, but instead looked eagerly towards the waiter,
who was coming towards him.

He poured out a large portion of whisky into a glass, and then, having
added a small quantity of soda-water, he took a long draught.

"There," he said, when he set down the glass empty, "that for your pious
platitudes, my friends."

The action seemed to restore something of his equanimity, and it also
brought back the old bravado which had characterised him.

"The brave warrior appears to require Dutch courage," remarked Sprague,
who seemed bent on arousing all that was evil in him.

"Better that than none at all," remarked Leicester quietly. "And let me
tell you this, my friend, you can tell your mother that I shall not
assist you in your drawing-room meetings. By the way, what line are you
on now? Is it Hottentot children, anti-smoking, or the conversion of the
Jews?"

The colour had risen to his cheeks, the o