is precious project?" he asked, after a
pause.

"No, sir. I chanced to see the man himself last night, and I conceived
an ill-will to him, and would do him a mischief."

"Where did you see him?"

"I spent the evening, sir, at the Vauxhall Gardens."

"No doubt you would," interpolated his uncle.

"My Lord Barrymore was there. He was attended by one who was dressed as
a clergyman, but who was, as I am told, none other than Hooper the
Tinman, who acts as his bully and thrashes all who may offend him.
Together they passed down the central path, insulting the women and
browbeating the men. They actually hustled me. I was offended, sir--so
much so that I nearly took the matter in hand then and there."

"It is as well that you did not. The prizefighter would have beaten
you."

"Perhaps so, sir--and also, perhaps not."

"Ah, you add pugilism to your elegant accomplishments?"

The young man laughed pleasantly.

"William Ball is the only professor of my Alma Mater who has ever had
occasion to compliment me, sir. He is better known as the Oxford Pet. I
think, with all modesty, that I could hold him for a dozen rounds. But
last night I suffered the annoyance without protest, for since it is said
that the same scene is enacted every evening, there is always time to
act."

"And how would you act, may I ask?"

"That, sir, I should prefer to keep to myself; but my aim, as I say,
would be to make Lord Barrymore a laughing-stock to all London."

Sir Charles cogitated for a moment.

"Pray, sir," said he, "why did you imagine that any humiliation to Lord
Barrymore would be pleasing to me?"

"Even in the provinces we know something of what passes in polite
circles. Your antagonism to this man is to be found in every column of
fashionable gossip. The town is divided between you. It is impossible
that any public slight upon him should be unpleasing to you."

Sir Charles smiled.

"You are a shrewd reasoner," said he. "We will suppose for the instant
that you are right. Can you give me no hint what means you would adopt
to attain this very desirable end?"

"I would merely make the remark, sir, that many women have been wronged
by this fellow. That is a matter of common knowledge. If one of these
damsels were to upbraid him in public in such a fashion that the sympathy
of the bystanders should be with her, then I can imagine, if she were
sufficiently persistent, that his lordship's position might become an