for Boris Bothwell at feats of strength. Unusually deep in the
chest and wide of shoulder, with long, well-packed arms that gave his
big, sinewy hands a tremendous grip, he was not in the least
muscle-bound.

In my junior year I was the champion intercollegiate sprinter of the
Pacific coast, but I have done a fifty with Bothwell for no less a stake
than my life, and not gained two feet on the man.

At sight of his cousin he bowed ironically, with the most genial of
mocking smiles. To that smile I despair of doing justice. It was not
from the lips merely, nor yet was it from the good will in him, but had
its birth apparently of some whimsical thought that for the moment lent
his face a rare charm. A second bow was for me.

"Mr. John Sedgwick, I presume?"

"At your service, sir."

He removed his coat leisurely and hung it on the back of a chair.

"Just so. I've had the devil of a time running you down, but here we are
at last. And all's well that ends well."

"You have business with me?" I asked curtly.

"Even at the risk of interrupting a _tete-a-tete_ with the most charming
young lady under heaven." His head dipped again with derisive courtesy
toward Miss Wallace. "But I need detain you scarce a moment. You found
this morning a paper I had the misfortune to lose. You will allow me to
offer a thousand thanks for the very good care you have doubtless taken
of it and will permit me to relieve you of it."

He was the very letter of urbanity, but beneath the velvet of his voice
I felt the steel. It lay, too, in the glitter of the cold eyes that
gimleted mine sharply.

Be sure I gave him back his smile and his insolent _aplomb_.

"Surely you are mistaken, Captain Bothwell. I recollect finding nothing
that belongs to you."

"We'll waive that point. You found a paper," he answered quietly,
drawing up a chair and seating himself astride it with his face to the
back.

"I picked up a paper that fell from the hand of Miss Wallace."

"Exactly. I speak, of course, in the interest of my cousin. If you have
returned it to her my purpose is served."

Impatient at our fencing, or afraid, perhaps, that I might be deceived
by his suavity, the girl cut in tartly:

"You think you could rob me more successfully next time, Boris?"

His kindly toleration was a lesson in diplomacy.

"Fie, fie, Evie! A family difference of opinion. I think we must not
trouble Mr. Sedgwick with our little diversions _entre nous_."

"Unfort