h with him upon his mission of revenge, little dreaming that
it is here that that tragedy is to be played out."

"This comes of your fine matrimonial projects for Cynthia," muttered
Joseph acridly. He laughed his unpleasant laugh again, and for a spell
there was silence.

"To think, Gregory," he broke out at last, "that for a fortnight he
should have been beneath this roof, and you should have found no means
of doing more effectively that which was done too carelessly eighteen
years ago."

He spoke as coldly as though the matter were a trivial one. Gregory
shuddered and looked at his brother in alarm.

"What now, fool?" cried Joseph, scowling. "Are you as cowardly as you
are blind? Damn me, sir, it seems well that I am returned. I'll have no
Marleigh plague my old age for me." He paused a moment, then continued
in a quieter voice, but one whose ring was sinister beyond words:
"Tomorrow I shall find a way to draw this your dog of war to some
secluded ground. I have some skill," he pursued, tapping his hilt as he
spoke, "besides, you shall be there, Gregory." And he smiled darkly. "Is
there no other way?" asked Gregory, in distress.

"There was," answered Joseph. "There was in Parliament. At Whitehall I
met a man--one Colonel Pride--a bloodthirsty old Puritan soldier, who
would give his right hand to see this Galliard hanged. Galliard, it
seems, slew the fellow's son at Worcester. Had I but known," he added
regretfully--"had your wits been keener, and you had discovered it and
sent me word, I had found means to help Colonel Pride to his revenge. As
it is"--he shrugged his shoulders--"there is not time."

"It may be--" began Gregory, then stopped abruptly with an exclamation
that caused Joseph to wheel sharply round. The door had opened, and on
the threshold Sir Crispin Galliard stood, deferentially, hat in hand.

Joseph's astonished glance played rapidly over him for a second. Then:

"Who the devil may you be?" he blurted out.

Despite his anxiety, Gregory chuckled at the question. The Tavern Knight
came forward. "I am Sir Crispin Galliard, at your service," said he,
bowing. "I was told that the master of Marleigh was returned, and that
I should find you here, and I hasten, sir, to proffer you my thanks for
the generous shelter this house has given me this fortnight past."

Whilst he spoke he measured Joseph with his eyes, and his glance was as
hateful as his words were civil. Joseph was lost in amazement. Littl