ide the laws of England. I would have to be
tried first, and have ballads made concerning me, and be condemned, and
so on. That would detain Honoria in England, because she is
sufficiently misguided to love me. I could never persuade her to leave
me with my life in peril. She could not possibly survive an English
winter." Here Calverley evinced unbridled mirth. "The irony of events
is magnificent. There is probably no question of hanging or even of
transportation. It is merely certain that if I venture from this room
I bring about Honoria's death as incontestably as if I strangled her
with these two hands. So I choose my own death in preference. It will
grieve Honoria----" His voice was not completely steady. "But she is
young. She will forget me, for she forgets easily, and she will be
happy. I look to you to see--even before you have killed
Pevensey--that Honoria goes into Italy. For she admires and loves you,
almost as much as I do, Horace, and she will readily be guided by
you----"

He cried my lord of Ufford's given name some two or three times, for
young Calverley had turned, and he had seen Ufford's face.

The earl moistened his lips. "You are a fool," he said, with a thin
voice. "Why do you trouble me by being better than I? Or do you only
posture for my benefit? Do you deal honestly with me, Robert
Calverley?--then swear it----" He laughed here, very horribly. "Ah,
no, when did you ever lie! You do not lie--not you!"

He waited for a while. "But I am otherwise. I dare to lie when the
occasion promises. I have desired Honoria since the first moment
wherein I saw her. I may tell you now. I think that you do not
remember. We gathered cherries. I ate two of them which had just lain
upon her knee----"

His hands had clenched each other, and his lips were drawn back so that
you saw his exquisite teeth, which were ground together. He stood thus
for a little, silent.

Then Ufford began again: "I planned all this. I plotted this with
Umfraville. I wrote you such a letter as would inevitably draw you to
your death. I wished your death. For Honoria would then be freed of
you. I would condole with her. She is readily comforted, impatient of
sorrow, incapable of it, I dare say. She would have married me. . . .
Why must I tell you this? Oh, I am Fate's buffoon! For I have won, I
have won! and there is that in me which will not accept the stake I
cheated for."

"And you," said C