tle while. Oliver stood
frowning, tracing a pattern on the pavement with the toe of his polished
boot, and gazing at it. He was evidently considering the situation.
Francis stood with his back to the railings, his eyes fixed, with a
somewhat crafty look, upon his brother's face. He was not yet sure that
his long-cherished scheme for extracting money from Oliver would
succeed. He believed that it would; but there was never any counting
upon Oliver. Astute as Francis considered himself (in spite of his
failure in the world), Oliver was astuter still.

Presently Oliver looked up and met Francis' fixed gaze. He started a
little, and made an odd grimace, intended to conceal a nervous twitch of
the muscles of his face. Then he spoke.

"You think yourself very clever, no doubt. Well, perhaps you are. I'll
acknowledge that, in a certain sense, you might spoil my game for me.
Not quite in the way you think, you know; but up to a certain point. As
I don't want to have my game spoilt, I am willing to make a bargain with
you--is that plain?"

"Fair sailing, so far," said Francis, doggedly. "Go on. What will you
give?"

"Nothing just now. The sum you named on the day when I marry Ethel
Kenyon, on condition that you give me back that confession you talk
about, swear not to mention your wife's sister, and take yourself off to
Australia."

"Hm!" said Francis considering. "So I have brought you to terms, have I?
So much the better for you--and perhaps for me. Are you engaged to Miss
Kenyon?"

"I asked her to-night to marry me, and she consented."

"You always were a lucky dog, Oliver," said Francis, with almost a
wistful expression on his crafty face. "I never could see how you
managed it, for my part. If that pretty girl"--with a laugh--"knew all
that I knew----"

"Exactly. I don't want her to know all you do. Are you going to agree to
my terms or not?"

"I should have said they were _my_ terms," said the elder brother, "but
we won't haggle about names. Say two thousand five hundred pounds down?"

"No, two thousand," said Oliver, boldly. "That will suit me better than
two hundred a year."

"Ah, you want to get rid of me, don't you? How soon is it likely to be?"

"Oh, that I can't tell you. As soon as she fixes the day."

"I swear by all that I hold sacred," said Francis, with sudden energy,
"that I won't wait more than six months, and then I'll take two
thousand."

"Six? Make it twelve. The girl may want a year's fre