"as we all do."

"Some more, some less," Payton answered with a grin.

"Just so," the Irishman returned, controlling himself. "Some more, some
less. And why not, I'm asking."

"I think I must stay over to-morrow," Payton remarked, smiling at the
ceiling. "There must be a good deal to be seen here."

"Ah, there is," Asgill answered in apparent good humour.

"Worth seeing, too, I'll be sworn!" the Englishman replied, smiling
more broadly.

"And that's true, too!" the other rejoined.

He had himself in hand; and it was not from him that the proposal to
break up the party came. The Major it was who at last pleaded fatigue.
Englishmen's heads, he said, were stronger than their stomachs; they
were a match for port but not for claret. "Too much Bordeaux," he
continued, with careless contempt, "gives me the vapours next day. It's
a d--d sour drink, I call it! Here's a health to Methuen and sound
Oporto!"

"You should correct it, Major, with a little cognac," The McMurrough
suggested politely.

"Not to-night; and, by your leave, I'll have my man called and go to
bed."

"It's early," James McMurrough said, playing the host.

"It is, but I'll have my man and go to bed," Payton answered, with true
British obstinacy. "No offence to any gentleman."

"There's none will take it here," Asgill answered. "An Irishman's house
is his guest's castle." But, knowing that Payton liked his glass, he
wondered; until it occurred to him that the other wished to have his
hand steady for the sword-play next day. He meant to stay, then! "Hang
him! Hang him!" he repeated in his mind.

The McMurrough, who had risen, took a light and attended his guest to
his room. Asgill and the O'Beirnes--the smaller folk had withdrawn
earlier--remained seated at the table, the young men scoffing at the
Englishman's weak head, and his stiffness and conceit of himself,
Asgill silent and downcast. His scheme for ridding himself of Payton
had failed; it remained to face the situation. He did not distrust
Flavia; no Englishman, he was sure, would find favour with her. But he
distrusted Payton, his insolence, his violence, and the privileged
position which his duellist's skill gave him. And then there was
Colonel John. If Payton learned what was afoot at the Tower, and saw
his way to make use of it, the worst might happen to all concerned.

He looked up at a touch from Morty, and to his astonishment he saw
Flavia standing at the end of the table. There wa