eadying himself.

"Ah, you've been here often?" asked Eglington nonchalantly, yet feeling
for the cause of this midnight visit.

"It is fifteen years since I was here, my lord. Then I came to see the
Earl of Eglington."

"And so history repeats itself every fifteen years! You came to see
the Earl of Eglington then; you come to see the Earl of Eglington
again--after fifteen years!"

"I come to speak with him that's called the Earl of Eglington."

Eglington's eyes half closed, as though the light hurt them. "That
sounds communistic, or is it pure Quakerism? I believe they used to call
my father Friend Robert till he backslided. But you are not a Quaker,
Soolsby, so why be too familiar? Or is it merely the way of the old
family friend?"

"I knew your father before you were born, my lord--he troosted me then."

"So long? And fifteen years ago--here?" He felt a menace, vague and
penetrating. His eyes were hard and cruel.

"It wasn't a question of troost then; 'twas one of right or
wrong--naught else."

"Ah--and who was right, and what was wrong?" At that moment there came
a tap at the door leading into the living part of the house, and the
butler entered. "The doctor--he has used up all his oxygen, my lord. He
begs to know if you can give him some for Mr. Claridge. Mr. Claridge is
bad to-night."

A sinister smile passed over Eglington's face. "Who brings the message,
Garry?"

"A servant--Miss Claridge's, my lord."

An ironical look came into Eglington's eyes; then they softened a
little. In a moment he placed a jar of oxygen in the butler's hands.

"My compliments to Miss Claridge, and I am happy to find my laboratory
of use at last to my neighbours," he said, and the door closed upon the
man.

Then he came back thoughtfully. Soolsby had not moved.

"Do you know what oxygen's for, Soolsby?" he asked quizzically.

"No, my lord, I've never heerd tell of it."

"Well, if you brought the top of Ben Lomond to the bottom of a
coal-mine--breath to the breathless--that's it.

"You've been doing that to Mr. Claridge, my lord?"

"A little oxygen more or less makes all the difference to a man--it
probably will to neighbour Claridge, Soolsby; and so I've done him a
good turn."

A grim look passed over Soolsby's face. "It's the first, I'm thinking,
my lord, and none too soon; and it'll be the last, I'm thinking, too.
It's many a year since this house was neighbourly to that."

Eglington's eyes almost closed, as