ing.

"H'm, well--er--did you, did you begin the letter with a term of
endearment?"

"Yes, general."

Tancred had tossed his cigar--a cigar that ranked nearly with a
Havanese--into the finger-bowl. He straightened himself and looked his
host in the face.

"Yes, general, and I am sorry for it. I have no excuse, not one. It was
a piece of unpardonable ill-breeding. I had no right to send the note; I
had no encouragement to write it. The only amend in my power is an
apology. I make one now to you; let me beg that you will convey another
to your daughter."

The general half rose from his seat and hit the table with his fist. His
face was convulsed. He was hideous.

"But, bandit that you are," he cried, "she loves you."

"No, general, you are wrong."

"Ah, I am wrong, am I? Not an hour ago she told me so of her own
accord."

"General, it was a jest."

"A jest! You call it a jest to surprise a girl in the dark"--

"To what?" gasped Tancred. "To what?"

"There, you know well enough what I mean. I refer to the other evening."

"Merciful heaven!" groaned Tancred, "it was she then that I kissed."

"It is a jest to do a thing like that, to write impassioned letters, and
to win a heart. Is it a jest you call it, sir, or did I misunderstand
your words?"

"No general, not that. What I meant was that it was impossible for Miss
Van Lier to have confessed to any love for me--"

The lattice at the window was thrust aside. For a second the girl's
sidereal eyes blazed into the room.

"He is right, father: I do not love; I hate."

The lattice fell again. She had gone.

During the moment that followed you could have heard a lizard move.
Tancred fumbled at his collar, and General Van Lier sank bank in his
chair.

"Mr. Ennever," he said, at last, "you are my guest."

The tone in which he spoke was low and self-restrained, but in it there
was an accent that was tantamount to a slap in the face.

Tancred was on his feet at once.

"If you permit me, I will leave to-day."

General Van Lier moved to the door.

"There is a boat from Siak at five," he answered.

"General," Tancred hesitated; he was humiliated as he had never been,
and rightly humiliated, he knew. He was trying to say something that
would express his sense of abasement, and a fitting speech was on the
end of his tongue.

"General--"

"After you, sir." The general was pointing to the door.

"General--"

"Nay, sir, after you. I insist."

Tancr