sy-going good-nature. "You were thinking of the
King's favours, and of a future of distinction and glory."

"I was thinking chiefly of Crystal, Sir," said the other haughtily.

"Quite so. You were thinking of winning Mlle. Crystal by a . . . a
subterfuge."

"An innocent one, Sir, you will admit. I should not be robbing you in
any way. And remember that it is only Crystal's hand that is denied me:
her love I have already won."

A look of pain--quickly suppressed and easily hidden from the other's
self-absorbed gaze--crossed the Englishman's earnest face.

"I do remember that, Monsieur," he said, "else I certainly would never
lend a hand in the . . . subterfuge."

"You will do it then?" queried the other eagerly.

"I have not said so."

"Ah! but you will," pleaded Maurice hotly. "Sir! the eternal gratitude
of two faithful hearts would be yours always--for Crystal will know it
all, once we are married, I promise you that she will. And in the midst
of her happiness she will find time to bless your generosity and your
selflessness . . . whilst I . . ."

"Enough, I beg of you, M. de St. Genis," broke in Clyffurde now, with
angry impatience. "Believe me! I do not hug myself with any thought of
my own virtues, nor do I desire any gratitude from you: if I hand over
the money to you, it is sorely against my better judgment and distinctly
against my duty: but since that duty chiefly lies in being assured that
the King of France will receive the money safely, why then by handing it
over to you I have that assurance, and my conscience will rest at
comparative ease. You shall have the money, Sir, and you shall marry
Mlle. Crystal on the strength of the King's gratitude towards you. And
Mlle. Crystal will be happy--if you keep silence over this transaction.
But for God's sake let's say no more about it: for of a truth you and I
are playing but a sorry role this night."

"A sorry role?" protested the other.

"Yes, a sorry role. Are you not deceiving a woman? Am I not running
counter to my duty?"

"I but deceive Crystal temporarily. I love her and only deceive in order
to win her. The end justifies the means: Nor do you, in my opinion, run
counter to your duty. . . ."

But Clyffurde interrupted him roughly: "I pray you, Sir, make no comment
on mine actions. My own silent comments on these are hard enough to
bear: your eulogies would raise bounds to my patience."

Whereupon he walked quickly up to the bed and from under