resque," drawled Calverley. "My tragedy,
to do him justice, could not be staged more strikingly. Those
additional alcoves have improved the room beyond belief. I must
apologize for not having rendered my compliments a trifle earlier."

Internally he outstormed Termagaunt. It was infamous enough, in all
conscience, to be arrested, but to have half the world of fashion as
witnessess of ones discomfiture was perfectly intolerable. He
recognized the excellent chance he had of being the most prominent
figure upon some scaffold before long, but that contingency did not
greatly trouble Calverley, as set against the certainty of being made
ridiculous within the next five minutes.

In consequence, he frowned and rearranged the fall of his shirt-frill a
whit the more becomingly.

"Yes, for hate sharpens every faculty," the earl went on. "Even
Umfraville understands that you do not fear death. So he means to have
you tried like any common thief while all your quondam friends sit and
snigger. And you will be convicted----"

"Why, necessarily, since I am not as Pevensey. Of course, I must
confess I took the necklace."

"And Pevensey must stick to the tale that he knows nothing of any
necklace. Dear Robin, this means Newgate. Accident deals very hardly
with us, Robin, for this means Tyburn Hill."

"Yes; I suppose it means my death," young Calverley assented. "Well! I
have feasted with the world and found its viands excellent. The
banquet ended, I must not grumble with my host because I find his
choice of cordials not altogether to my liking." Thus speaking, he was
aware of nothing save that the fiddlers were now about an air to which
he had often danced with his dear wife.

"I have a trick yet left to save our honor,----" Lord Ufford turned to
a table where wine and glasses were set ready. "I propose a toast.
Let us drink--for the last time--to the honor of the Calverleys."

"It is an invitation I may not decorously refuse. And yet--it may be
that I do not understand you?"

My lord of Ufford poured wine into two glasses. These glasses were
from among the curios he collected so industriously--tall, fragile
things, of seventeenth century make, very intricately cut with roses
and thistles, and in the bottom of each glass a three-penny piece was
embedded. Lord Ufford took a tiny vial from his pocket and emptied its
contents into the glass which stood the nearer to Mr. Calverley.

"This is Florence water. We