smokes himself to death the
better, if he was n't after learnin' young Muck, as every one calls
him, to smoke, too. They do it on the quiet here in the garage,
although it's against the rules."

"Why don't you stop them then?" asked Armitage.

Ryan shrugged and laughed.

"If we stopped them we 'd be fired for committin' insult and if they
're caught here we 'll be fired for lettin' 'em smoke. That's the way
with those who work for people like the Wellingtons--always between the
devil and the deep sea."

"Oh, I don't know," said Armitage, whose combative instincts were now
somewhat aroused, "I don't think people get into great trouble for
doing their duty, whoever they work for."

The footman grinned.

"Well," he said, "you 'll know more about that the longer you 're here."

As he spoke, the boys under discussion entered the doorway and seating
themselves upon the running board of a touring car, helped themselves
to cigarettes from a silver case which the elder took from his pocket.
They lighted them without a glance at the two men and had soon filled
the atmosphere with pungent smoke.

"Do they do this often?" asked Armitage at length, turning to Ryan and
speaking in a voice not intended to be hidden.

The footman grinned and nodded.

"Against the rules, isn't it?" persisted Armitage, much to Ryan's
evident embarrassment, who, however, nodded again.

The older boy took his cigarette from his mouth and rising, walked a
few steps toward the new chauffeur. He was a slender stripling with
high forehead, long, straight nose, and a face chiefly marked by an
imperious expression. In his flannels and flapping Panama hat he was a
reduced copy of such Englishmen as Armitage had seen lounging in the
boxes at Ascot or about the paddock at Auteuil.

"Were you speaking of us, my man?" he said.

A gleam of amusement crossed Armitage's face.

"I--I believe I was, my boy. Why?"

A corner of the youth's upper lip curled and snapping the half-burnt
cigarette into a corner he took another from the case and lighted it.

"Oh," he said nodding, "you are the new man. Impertinence is not a
good beginning. I 'm afraid you won't last."

Armitage crossed quickly to the discarded cigarette which was
smouldering near a little pool of gasoline under a large can of that
dangerous fluid, and rubbed the fire out with his foot. Returning, he
confronted the boy, standing very close to him.

"Look here, son," he said quietly