not won her yet."

"I know that, but I hope to succeed."

"What do you expect me to do?"

"All in your power. Give me a fair show."

"The girl shan't be bullied or browbeaten--I won't force her into such a
step against her wishes. If she marries you, it will be of her own free
will."

"That's fair enough. But I want an open field. You must keep other
admirers away from the girl, and there isn't any time to lose about it.
It may be too late now--"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Madge has improved her acquaintance with the chap who
pulled her out of the river a couple of weeks ago."

"Impossible, Nevill!"

"It is perfectly true. And do you know who the man is? It is none other
than Jack Vernon, the artist."

"By heavens, Jack Vernon! The same who--"

"Yes, the same. I did not tell you before."

"And I did not dream of it. I wrote a letter of gratitude to the fellow,
and told Madge to get his address from the landlord of the Black Bull--I
did not know it myself, else--"

"I was afraid you might have some scruples. It is too late for that
now."

"It was like your cursed cunning," exclaimed Stephen Foster. "Yes,
I should have hesitated. But are you certain that Madge has seen the
fellow since?"

"Certain? Why, I passed them in George street, Richmond, last evening,
as I was driving to the Star and Garter. They were together in a trap,
going toward Kew. That is the reason I determined to speak to you
to-night."

Stephen Foster rose and hurried toward the door; his face was pale with
anger and alarm.

"Stop!" cried Nevill. "What are you going to do?"

"Sit still," was the hoarse reply. "I'll tell you when I return."

CHAPTER IX.

UNCLE AND NEPHEW.

Victor Nevill was on his feet instantly, and by a quick move he
intercepted Foster and clutched him by the arm. He repeated his
question: "What are you going to do?"

"Take your hand off me. I shall hear from Madge's own lips a denial of
your words. How dare you accuse her of stooping to an intrigue?"

"I wouldn't call it that. Madge is young and innocent. She knows little
of the censorious world. She has been left pretty much to herself, and
naturally she sees no harm in meeting Vernon. As for denying my
words--she can't do that."

"I will call her to account, and make her confess everything."

"But not to-night," urged Nevill. "Come, sit down."

Stephen Foster yielded to the solicitation of his companion, and went
back to his chair.