If Beecher's cheek grew paler, it was only for a moment, and, with an amount of calm dignity of which Grog had not believed him capable, he said,--

"There's not any use in your employing this language towards me,--there's not the slightest necessity for me to listen to it. I conclude, after what has passed between us, we cannot be friends: there's no need, however, of our being enemies."

"Which means, 'I wish you a very good-morning, Kit Davis,' don't it?"

said Grog, with a grin.

Beecher gave a smile that might imply anything.

"Ah! so that's it?" cried Davis, endeavoring, by any means, to provoke a reply.

Beecher made no answer, but proceeded in most leisurely style with his dressing. #

"Well, that's candid, anyhow," said Grog, sternly. "Now, I 'll be as frank with _you_: I thought a few days back that I 'd done rather a good thing of it, but I find that I backed the wrong horse after all. You are the Viscount, now, but you won't be so this day six months."

Beecher turned his head round, and gave a smile of the most insolent incredulity.

"Ay, I know you'll not believe it, because it is I that tell you; but there came out a fellow from Fordyce's with the same story, and when you open your letters you 'll see it again."

Beecher's courage now deserted him, and the chair on which he leaned shook under his grasp.

"Here's how it is," said Grog, in a calm, deliberate tone: "Dunn--that same fellow we called on one day together--has fallen upon a paper--a title, or a patent, or a writ, or something--that shows you have no claim to the Viscounty, and that it ought to go, along with the estates, to some man who represents the elder branch. Now Dunn, it seems, was some way deep with your brother. He had been buying land for him, and not paying, or paying the money and not getting the land,--at all events, he was n't on the square with him; and seeing that you might probably bring him to book, he just says, 'Don't go into accounts with me, and here's your title; give me any trouble, and I 'll go over to the enemy.'"

"But there can be no such document."

"Fordyce's people say there is. Hankes, Dunn's own agent, told them the substance of it; and it seems it was on the list of proofs, but they never could lay a hand on it."

Beecher heard no more, but taking up the lawyer's letter, which he had thrown so indignantly from him the night before, he began patiently to read it.

"Who can make head or tail of all this?" cried he, in angry impatience.

"The fellow writes as if I was a scrivener's clerk, and knew all their confounded jargon. Mere schemes to extort money these!"

"Not always. There's now and then a real charge in the gun, and it's too late to know it when you 're hit," cried Grog, quietly.

"Why do not Fordyce's people send out a proper person to communicate with myself directly," said Beecher, haughtily. "They did, and I saw him," said Grog, boldly.

Beecher grew crimson, and his lip trembled with a convulsive movement.

It was very hard indeed to restrain himself, but, with an effort, he succeeded, and simply said, "And then--"

"And then," resumed Davis, "I packed him off again."

"What authority had you to thrust yourself forward in this manner?"

cried Beecher, passionately. "What authority?--the interest of my daughter, the Viscountess Lackington," said Grog, with a mingled insolence and mockery. "You may safely swear it was out of no special regard for _you_. What authority?" And with this he burst out into a laugh of sarcastic defiance.

"It need not offend you," said Beecher, "if I say that a question like this must be intrusted to very different hands from yours."

"You think so, eh?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Well, I am not; so far from it, that I'm ready to declare if I can't pull you through, there's not that man living who can. Lawyers can meet lawyers. If one wins a trick here, the other scores one there. This fellow has a deed,--that one has a codicil. It is always the same game; and they 're in no hurry to finish, for they are playing on velvet. What 's really wanting is some one that does n't care a rush for a little risk,--ready to bribe this man,--square the other,--burn a parish register, if need be, and come at--at any document that may be required,--at the peril of passing his days at Norfolk Island."

"You fancy that the whole world is like the ring at Ascot," said Beecher, sneeringly.

"And ain't it? What's the difference, I'd like to know? Is it noble lords like yourself would prove the contrary?"

"I will see Fordyce myself," said Beecher, coldly.

"You needn't be at the trouble," said Davis, calmly. "There's two ways of doing the thing: one is a compromise with the claimant, who turns out to be that young Conway, the 'Smasher.'"

"Young Conway, the one-armed fellow?"

"Just so. The other is, to get hold of Dunn's papers. Now, I have despatched a trusty hand to the Crimea to see about the first of these plans. As for the other, I 'll do it myself."

"How so?"

"Just this way: you shall give me a written authority to demand from Dunn all your family papers and documents, making me out to be your agent for the Irish estates." Beecher started, and a slight cast of derision marked his lip; but there was that in Grog's face that speedily suppressed every temptation to sneer, and he grew sick with terror.

"Dunn will be for holding out," resumed Davis. "He 'll be for writing to yourself for explanations, instructions, and so forth; and if I were a fellow of his own sort, I 'd have to agree; but, being what I am,--Kit Davis, you see,--I'll Just say: 'No gammon, my old gent. We don't mean to lose this match, nor don't mean to let _you_ nobble _us_. Be on the square, and it will be all the better for yourself.' _We 'll_ soon understand each other."

A gentle tap at the door here interrupted Davis, and Beecher's servant, with a most bland voice, said, "Her Ladyship is waiting breakfast, my Lord," and disappeared.

"Who told _him?_" asked Beecher, a strange sense of pleasure vibrating through him as this recognition reminded him of his newly acquired station.

"I told him last night," said Davis, with a look that seemed to say, "And of whatever I do, let there be no farther question."

As they entered the breakfast-room, they found Lizzy--I must ask pardon if I return at times to their former names in speaking of her and her husband--in conversation with Mr. Twining, that gentleman having presented himself, and explained how he came to be there.

"Do you know Captain Davis, Twining? Let me present him to you," said Beecher, blushing deeply as he spoke.

"Charmed, my Lord,--much honored,--fancy we have met before,--met at York Spring Meet. Rataplan beat by a neck,--great fun!"

"It was n't great fun for me," growled out Grog; "I stood to win on Bruiser."

"Excellent horse,--capital horse,--wonderful stride!"

"I'll tell you what he was," said Grog, sternly,--"a rare bad 'un!"

"You surprise--amaze me, Captain Davis,--quite astonish me! Always heard a great character of Braiser!"

"You did, did you?" said Grog, with a jocose leer.

"Well, the information wasn't thrown away, for you laid heavily against him."

"Most agreeable man, your father-in-law, my Lord," said Twining, slapping his legs and laughing away in high good humor; then, turning again to Davis, he engaged him in conversation.

Meanwhile Beecher had drawn Lizzy into a recess of the window, and was whispering anxiously to her.

"Did this piece of news take you by surprise?" asked he, scanning her closely as he spoke.

"Yes," said she, calmly.