"Well--and why not?"

"The Earl of Bamborough's son fight a duel over the chambermaid of a hedge tavern!"

The Viscount's handsome face grew suddenly red, and as suddenly pale again, and his eyes glowed as he fronted Barnabas across the hearth.

"Mr. Beverley," said he very quietly, "how am I to take that?"

"In friendship, d.i.c.k, for the truth of it is that--though she is as brave, as pure, as beautiful as any lady in the land, she is a chambermaid none the less."

The Viscount turned, and striding to the window stood there, looking out with bent head.

"Have I offended you?" inquired Barnabas.

"You go--too far, Beverley."

"I would go farther yet for my friend, Viscount, or for our Lady Cleone."

Now when Barnabas said this, the Viscount's head drooped lower yet, and he stood silent. Then, all at once, he turned, and coming to the hearth, the two stood looking at each other.

"Yes, I believe you would, Beverley. But you have a way of jumping to conclusions that is--devilish disconcerting. As for Chichester, the world would be well rid of him. And, talking of him, I met another rascal as I came--I mean that fellow Smivvle; had he been here?"

"Yes."

"Begging, I suppose?"

"He borrowed some money for his friend Barrymaine."

The Viscount flushed hotly, and looked at Barnabas with a sudden frown.

"Perhaps you are unaware, that is a name I never allow spoken in my presence, Mr. Beverley."

"Indeed, Viscount, and pray, why not?"

"For one thing, because he is--what he is--"

"Lady Cleone's brother."

"Half-brother, sir, and none the less a--knave."

"How--?"

"I mean that he is a card-sharper, a common cheat."

"Her brother--?"

"Half-brother!"

"A cheat! Are you sure?"

"Certain! I had the misfortune to make the discovery. And it killed him in London, all the clubs shut their doors upon him of course, he was cut in the streets,--it is d.a.m.ning to be seen in his company or even to mention his name--now."

"And you--you exposed him?"

"I said I made the discovery; but I kept it to myself. The stakes were unusually high that night, and we played late. I went home with him, but Chichester was there, waiting for him. So I took him aside, and, in as friendly a spirit as I could, told him of my discovery.

He broke down, and, never attempting a denial, offered rest.i.tution and promised amendment. I gave my word to keep silent and, on one pretext or another, the loser's money was returned. But next week, the whole town hummed with the news. One night--it was at White's--he confronted me, and--he gave me--the lie!" The Viscount's fists were tight clenched, and he stared down blindly at the floor.

"And, sir, though you'll scarcely credit it of course, I--there, before them all--I took it."

"Of course," said Barnabas, "for Her sake."

"Beverley!" exclaimed the Viscount, looking up with a sudden light in his eyes. "Oh, Bev!" and their hands met and gripped.

"You couldn't do anything else, d.i.c.k."

"No, Bev, no, but I'm glad you understand. Later it got about that I--that I was--afraid of the fellow--he's a dead shot, they say, young as he is--and--well, it--it wasn't pleasant, Bev. Indeed it got worse until I called out one of Chichester's friends, and winged him--a fellow named Dalton."

"I think I've seen him," said Barnabas, nodding.

"Anyhow, Barrymaine was utterly discredited and done for--he's an outcast, and to be seen with him, or his friends, is to be d.a.m.ned also."

"And yet," said Barnabas, sighing and shaking his head, "I must call upon him to-morrow."

"Call upon him! Man--are you mad?"

"No; but he is her brother, and--"

"And, as I tell you, he is banned by society as a cheat!"

"And is that so great a sin, d.i.c.k?"

"Are there any--worse?"

"Oh, yes; one might kill a man in a duel, or dishonor a trusting woman, or blast a man's character; indeed it seems to me that there are many greater sins!"

The Viscount dropped back in his chair, and stared at Barnabas with horrified eyes.

"My--dear--Beverley," said he at last, "are you--serious?"

"My dear Viscount--of course I am."

"Then let me warn you, such views will never do here: any one holding such views will never succeed in London."

"Yet I mean to try," said Barnabas, squaring his jaw.

"But why," said the Viscount, impatiently, "why trouble yourself about such a fellow?"

"Because She loves him, and because She asked me to help him."

"She asked--you to?"