e at the thought. Clinton remarked it,
with a twinkle of gratification in his keen eye, which he strove to
conceal from Arthur's observation.

"It's enough to drive one desperate! I scarcely know what I should do
under such circumstances," said he, suddenly, with his eyes fixed keenly
upon Arthur's flushed face.

"There's no way for me to do but to put up with it," returned Arthur,
doggedly; "I've got to stay there, and make it up; and I may as well do
it quietly as to make a disturbance about it, because it's got to be
done."

"It's enough to tempt one to try the strength of the old adage----,"
continued Clinton, thoughtfully, and pausing in the midst of his
sentence.

"What's that?" asked Arthur, without looking up.

"Why, to take the game as well as the name," said the other, with a
short laugh, and without taking his eyes from Arthur's face.

"True enough," cried Quirk, "you might as well be a thief as to be
called one, according to my opinion."

Arthur placed his elbow on the table, and looked into the lamp-blaze
thoughtfully, with his head on his hand.

"You are both ready to advise," said he, after a moment's silence, "but
I doubt if either of you know what you'd do in my case, after all."

"I'd be avenged," said Clinton, resolutely; "but you are not me, and I
don't ask you to do as I would."

"That's just the thing!" cried Quirk; "and if you can hit upon a plan,
carry it out; there'll be some satisfaction in that."

"Revenge!" said Arthur, bitterly; "how can I be revenged? It would be a
sparrow struggling against a vulture."

"You admit you have been wronged?"

"Most unjustly so."

"And you would be avenged, if you could?"

"Yes, if I spilled my heart's blood."

Arthur had drank deeply of the wine, and his blood was heated with it,
and his worst passions aroused. He had been goaded into the belief that
he had been grossly insulted and had taken it submissively, and that
revenge was his only resource. He threw aside his chair, and strode back
and forth across the narrow room, with the excited tread of the caged
lion.

Clinton watched him furtively from beneath his brows for a moment, then
rising, linked arms, and leaned toward him in a confidential manner.

"My poor friend, I pity you from the bottom of my heart; count upon me
whenever you are in want of a friend, will you?"

"Always, Clinton; thank you."

"And if I should try to think upon some good plan, lay some good plot,
by which y