e tell Lionel Beauchamp
I want him?"

"Lionel Beauchamp!" ejaculated Jim, and then he shook his head; for he
regarded Sylla's proceedings now as mere temper.

To the bystanders, of course, the name of Lionel Beauchamp told
nothing. He was a stranger to all except the Todborough party. His
name had never been heard of in connection with athletic sports in any
way. Lionel Beauchamp, in fact, was a young man who, what between
taking a degree at Oxford and foreign travel, had scarcely is yet been
either seen or heard of in the London world. He was known only in his
own country as one of those quiet reserved dispositions little given to
vaunt their accomplishments. Both Braybrooke and Jim Bloxam, having
been appealed to by Captain Conyers, said they could form no idea
whatever of his capabilities. They had never heard him say a word
about running; and if he ever had done anything in that way, it was odd
that he had never mentioned it in the smoking-room last night, when, in
consequence of Jim's entry for the "All Army Cup," discussion had run
high concerning such things. Lady Mary, on her part, was lost in
conjecture--not so much as to whether Mr. Beauchamp could run, but as
to where Sylla Chipchase could have attained such intimate knowledge of
his accomplishments; while Mr. Cottrell alone showed faith in this
unknown champion, observing cynically to Mrs. Sartoris, that when women
went the length of wagering their bracelets, he thought it most
advisable to be upon their side.

"They really must know they have an immense deal the best of it when
they do that, depend upon it." Further speculation on the match was
here interrupted by the appearance of Lionel Beauchamp, whom Mr.
Sartoris had duly fetched from the other side of the marquee, where he
had discovered him--what Lady Mary would have called--profitably
employing himself by the side of Miss Bloxam.

"Oh, Lionel!" exclaimed Sylla, and to Mr. Cottrell's intense amusement
she stole a glance at Lady Mary to see how she liked this familiar
address, "I have sent for you to preserve me from the fruits of my
rashness. If you don't beat Mr. Montague for me over a quarter of a
mile, I shall have to go home without my bracelet."

"But I am sure," interrupted Beauchamp, "that Mr. Montague has no wish
to hold you to so foolish a wager."

"Certainly not," interposed Montague; "I have no wish whatever to press
it. The match, I assure you, is of Miss Chipchase's makin