stomach, and I knew that the one who was the greater coward
would probably try to anticipate the matter by attacking the other first
if he could. I knew that Fairfax was the greater coward--not that there
was much to choose between them--and I also knew that he was the injured
person. That is really all there is about it. My somewhat theatrical
statement to you was based upon probability, and not upon any certain
foreknowledge. As you see, it came off."

"And the cause of their quarrel?" Francis asked.

"There might have been a hundred reasons," Sir Timothy observed. "As a
matter of fact, it was the eternal one. There is no need to mention a
woman's name, so we will let it go at that."

There was a moment's silence--a strange, unforgettable moment for
Francis Ledsam, who seemed by some curious trick of the imagination to
have been carried away into an impossible and grotesque world. The
hum of eager conversation, the popping of corks, the little trills
of feminine laughter, all blended into one sensual and not unmusical
chorus, seemed to fade from his ears. He fancied himself in some
subterranean place of vast dimensions, through the grim galleries of
which men and women with evil faces crept like animals. And towering
above them, unreal in size, his scornful face an epitome of sin, the
knout which he wielded symbolical and ghastly, driving his motley flock
with the leer of the evil shepherd, was the man from whom he had already
learnt to recoil with horror. The picture came and went in a flash.
Francis found himself accepting a courteously offered cigar from his
companion.

"You see, the story is very much like many others," Sir Timothy
murmured, as he lit a fresh Cigar himself and leaned back with the
obvious enjoyment of the cultivated smoker. "In every country of the
world, the animal world as well as the human world, the male resents his
female being taken from him. Directly he ceases to resent it, he becomes
degenerate. Surely you must agree with me, Mr. Leddam?"

"It comes to this, then," Francis pronounced deliberately, "that you
stage-managed the whole affair."

Sir Timothy smiled.

"It is my belief, Mr. Ledsam," he said, "that you grow more and more
intelligent every hour."

Sir Timothy glanced presently at his thin gold watch and put it back in
his pocket regretfully.

"Alas!" he sighed, "I fear that I must tear myself away. I particularly
want to hear the last act of 'Louise.' The new Frenchwoman