r a minnow is an alligator, or a tartar, or a salamander,
or some evil beast that is too much for their powers. This was what Mr.
Barker was afraid of, and this was what he wished to guard against.
Unfortunately he was a little late in the selection of his victim, and
he knew it. He had determined to marry the Countess Margaret.

He knew perfectly well that Claudius had determined upon the very same
thing, and he knew that Claudius was intimate, to say the least of it,
with the woman he loved. But Barker had made up his mind that Claudius
had been refused, and had accepted the Platonic position offered him by
the Countess, merely because he had not the strength to leave her. "Just
like the vanity of a fellow like that," he argued, "not to be willing to
believe himself beaten." He had drawn the whole situation in his mind
entirely to his own satisfaction. If Claudius could only be removed, any
other man would have as good a chance. The other man is
Barker--therefore, remove Claudius at once. Remove him! Away with him!
Let his place know him no more!

Mr. Barker sat unmoved in his chair; but he contemplated the nail on the
middle finger of his left hand with absorbed interest, even bringing it
nearer the light in order to obtain a better view.

He was one of those men who are seldom altogether unprepared. His mind
was of the Napoleonic order, on a very small scale; with him to think of
the end was to plan the means, and in the days that had followed the
memorable night wherein the idea had struck him that he might marry the
Countess in the teeth of Dr. Claudius, a project had grown up in his
mind whereby he hoped now to effect his purpose. Perhaps the scheme had
developed unconsciously, as often happens with persons whose lives are
spent in planning. Perhaps he fondly hoped--for he was not without
vanity--that he might yet win the Countess fairly, and had only
contemplated his plot as a possibility. Be that as it may, from the
moment he realised that a plan of action was necessary he also realised
that the plan was ready, and he determined to put it into execution. It
was an unfair plan he meditated, bad from the root up, and he knew it;
but he did not hesitate on that account. Silas B. Barker junior had not
enough conscience to make it an object for him to deceive himself as to
the morality of his actions. A year or two since he would perhaps have
defended himself in a general way by saying it was arrogance for a man
t