Clare a little way the younger man turned, caught sight of him and, stopping dead in his hurried walk, looked at him at first with amazement and then with scorn. The wild idea crossed him that the Earl might have intercepted the lodge-keeper, learned his errand, and then sent the accepted lover to warn a poacher from his domain,

"I beg your pardon," said Kimberley, raising his white hat and speaking with a nervous blush and tremor, "I thought you might have lost your way."

Jack stood still and eyed him from head to foot. His glance took in the whole of Kimberley's vulgar glories, and the extraordinary dog's head pin, with its ruby eyes and jewelled collar, would on another's figure have provoked him to inward laughter. As it was, he smiled with an exceedingly bitter aspect, eyed the little man from head to foot once more, and, turning short upon his heel, resumed his walk, with his

hands in the pockets of his shooting-jacket. He had not wanted any witness of his last farewell to Ella, and that this man, of all men in the world, should appear at at this moment was

savagely galling.

Kimberley thought the stranger's behaviour remarkable, and even insolent.

"I shall be very happy to direct you, sir," he said, notwithstanding.

Jack turned his head and looked at him once more with a face of unmistakable disdain, and then sauntered on a second time without a word. This unaccountable behaviour excited in Kimberley's breast as much ire as he was capable of feeling.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, following Jack's sauntering footsteps. "I did myself the honour to address you." This time Jack did not even turn his head, but walked on quietly, as if unconscious of the other's presence. Within he was boiling over, but he gave no sign. "Per

haps, sir," said Kimberley, who had scarcely ever been so wrathful in his life as this curious reception of his politeness made him, "you are not aware that this is private property."

Now Jack, who was by nature a sweettempered man, had been sorely tried for many a day. He was expecting Ella all the more eagerly because he more than half despaired of her coming, and to have this witness of their meeting was simply and purely impossible. Would no scorn of manner give him a hint to be gone? He scarcely dared trust himself to speak, but he turned and looked a third time at the little millionnaire, and again walked on in silence. There was nothing to be got out of a row with Bolsover Kimberley, and angry as he was his own sense of dignity made a scene unlikely.

"Perhaps, sir," repeated Kimberley, growing actually exasperated at the stranger's disdain, 'you are not aware that this is private property." Then Jack Clare turned upon him swiftly.

66

"Pardon the question," he said with savage suavity, "but, pray sir, are you often mobbed?"

"No, sir," retorted Kimberley, not being able just then to find a better answer, and half inclined to think he had a madman to deal with. "Excuse me again," said Jack, "but do you desire to be mobbed?"

"No, sir," replied Kimberley, more fiercely than he had ever spoken in all his meek life, until that moment.

"Then why do you wear that scarf-pin and those clothes?" demanded Captain Clare. The downright insolence of the question soothed him. He did not wait for an answer, but walked on, as if once more sublimely unconscious of Kimberley's presence.

"You are an insolent fellow, sir," cried Kimberley, behind him. "You are an insolent fellow, sir." Jack walked on regardless of his wrath. "Do you hear, sir?" said Kimberley, fairly enraged, and forgetting even to be aston

ished at the courage he displayed. "I tell you

He was

that you are an insolent fellow, sir." small and shy, and meek enough, heaven knows, but even he could resent so bold an insult.

"You pestilential little cad," cried Jack, wheeling round upon him, and letting out all his wrath at once. "Go home!"

"Cad, sir!" answered Kimberley, facing him. in ruffling indignation. "Whom do you call a cad, sir?"

"I call any man a cad," said Jack, "who goes about with a suit of clothes like that."

tr

It was not a polished shaft, but it went home. Oh, it went home, and, as Carlyle said of Balaam, an ice-taloned pang shot through brain and pericardium." Jack walked on, and Kimberley stood rooted to the ground. He had not a word to say in answer, and he had scarcely even a conscious thought, but he stood crushed and overwhelmed beneath the sense of his own humiliation. His fineries had been the one thing