ses during the bogus courtship of
the girl now dearer to him than life. Something of the rueful irony in
his mind must have been reflected in his face, for Mr. Maynard, after a
sidelong glance at him and a sip of port, continued--

"Now, my lad, I've been and set your back up by hinting that you didn't
earn your money. At any rate, you must be pretty well lined to be able
to chuck the army at your age, and to possess such a steam yacht as
Nugent has described to me."

"I am afraid, sir, that Nugent's imagination has run away with him,"
Leslie replied, flushing hotly. "The yacht at Weymouth, in which I had
been going to travel, is not my own property."

"You have abandoned your intention?"

"Entirely."

A constrained silence fell upon the two men. The blue smoke of their
cigars floated over the array of decanters, the luscious fruits and
glittering plate. On one the demon of distrust had been unchained; on
the other, a cloud of apprehension, threatening the short-lived bliss of
the last few days, had swooped from an azure sky. It was Montague
Maynard who broke the spell, going, as was his way, direct to the point.

"Look here, Chermside," he blurted out. "I like you, and so does old
Sally Dymmock--'cute observers, both of us. But there's something not
quite above-board--I don't say about you, but about your circumstances.
I'm the last man to judge anybody hastily, and you may have the best of
reasons for reticence; but I just want to warn you that if you come to
me with a proposal which I need not define I shall expect perfect
frankness."

Leslie's heart sank within him, for perfect frankness was what he would
never be able to accord. How was he to explain the fact that he was a
penniless man without prospects, in face of the impression which, if not
actually inspired by him, he allowed to remain, that he was rolling in
money? Still less could he explain the motive which had prompted him to
acquiescence in Nugent's description of him. And the only alternative to
explanation was once for all to abandon hopes of Violet, and to bear his
loss as manfully as he could, accepting it as a punishment for his
contemplated evil-doing.

"When I come to you with a definite proposal, sir, I shall naturally
endeavour to satisfy you," was his long-delayed reply.

It was lame enough, but it served its immediate purpose of staving off
the day of reckoning. For Montague Maynard rose abruptly from the table,
flinging down his nap