Julius shrugged his shoulders and walked to the door. There he paused to utter a final insulting speech. "I don't know whether you intend to marry Bernard or Lord Conniston," he said, "but I wish, which ever it is, joy of a spitfire."

"And an honest woman," said Miss Randolph, wrathfully, for the reference to Conniston touched her nearly; "but you go too fast. You can't yet prove that Bernard lives."

"I go to do so," sneered Julius, and bowed himself ironically out of the room, leaving Lucy furious both with him and with herself.

She was angry with herself because she felt that in speaking of Conniston she had colored. And as a matter of fact she greatly admired the young lord, even though they had only met once, for Conniston was one of those irresistible men who appeal to women. Lucy thought--but it matters little what she thought. All she knew was that her engagement to Julius, which had always weighed on her conscience, was at an end. "I am free now--free," she said, stretching her hands. "Oh, what an escape I have had from that wicked man. He has shown his hand too plainly. I will put Mr. Durham on his guard, and"--here she blushed--"and Lord Conniston."

Julius, walking towards the Bower, was also angry with himself. As Lucy thought, he had shown his hand too clearly. "It would have been better,"

he considered, "to have held my tongue. I should have done so had she not goaded me into speech. She will tell Durham and that interfering Conniston and put them on their guard. Well"--he laughed and looked at the small boy trotting beside him--"I am equal to both."

The boy was a handsome, innocent-looking little fellow, rather undersized. With his clear skin, his fair hair and wide blue eyes he looked like the conventional picture of a cherub. No one would have suspected that such a childish creature was a born criminal. But his mind had not yet had time to work on his face, and the mask of his childhood--for he was only thirteen--concealed his evil nature successfully. In a few years, when his pa.s.sions worked their way through the mask, his face, now so smooth and innocent, would be wrinkled and sinful. His mind would have marked plainly its signet on the smooth surface. But at present he looked charmingly innocent, although he already knew much more about life than was good for him. Julius, in order that the lad might make an impression on Miss Plantagenet, had dressed him in a new suit, and pleased with himself--for much of the boy remained in this precocious criminal--young Jerry trotted along smiling.

"Jerry," said Beryl, looking down, "mind you are nice to the old lady."

Jerry tossed his fair curls and looked roguish. "Oh, that's all right, Mr. Beryl. All old ladies take to me. They think I'm a kind of Holy Bill, and I let them think so. It pays."

"Jerry, you are a young scamp of the worst."

The boy chuckled as though he had received a compliment. "I like doing things," he explained frankly; "it's fun. When I was with old grandmother at the castle I hated doing nothing. If it hadn't been for Victoria--the girl I told you about--I should have left long before. I'm going to marry her."

"You know nothing about such things," corrected the respectable Mr.

Beryl, severely.

"I know a jolly sight more than you think," said the urchin under his breath and producing a cigarette.

Julius took it from him. "Miss Plantagenet must not think you smoke, Jerry. She is most respectable."

"And dull," said Jerry, putting his hands in his pockets. "Lord! what a bore stopping with her will be. But I can nip over and see Victoria when I like."

"And keep an eye on Lord Conniston as I told you."

"I'm fly," said Master Moon, and began whistling.

Julius looked at him with satisfaction. He intended that the boy should remain in the neighborhood so as to keep watch on Conniston--whom since he left the army so unexpectedly he suspected--on Durham, and on Alice Malleson. For this last reason he was introducing him into the house. If Bernard were alive--as Julius began to suspect--he would come to one of these three people, and then Jerry would at once become aware of the fact. Then it would remain with Bernard whether to be hanged or to surrender a large portion of the property which Beryl thought rightfully belonged to him. How he came to this conclusion it is difficult to say.

Miss Berengaria was as usual in the garden looking after the well-being of some white chrysanthemums. She raised her head when she saw her visitors, and a look of annoyance crossed her face when she saw Mr.

Beryl. Notwithstanding Durham's advice, she found it difficult to keep her natural dislike of the young man in abeyance, and but for the sake of Alice she would have refused to let him enter the Bower. As it was, and with great diplomacy--so great that it deceived even the astute Beryl--she asked him to come into the house. Luckily Alice was out of the way, having gone to pay a visit. But she was expected back momentarily, and Miss Berengaria wished to get rid of Julius before the girl returned. She might be able to conceal her real feelings, but Alice being so young and impulsive might show her dislike too plainly and put Beryl on his guard.

"Who is this you have here?" asked Miss Plantagenet, putting on her spectacles and surveying Jerry with admiration. "What a pretty lad!"

"He is a lad I wish you to help," said Beryl, blandly. "Last time we met, Miss Plantagenet, you mentioned that you wanted a page."

"Not exactly a page," said the old dame, rubbing her nose, a sure sign she was perplexed. "Merely a boy to see after the fowls, and to wait about the house when necessary."

"I love fowls," said Jerry sweetly, and looking as innocent as a babe, "and dogs and things like that."

"You seem a nice lad. Who is he, Mr. Beryl?"

"A poor boy who sold matches in London."

"But I didn't always," piped Jerry, shifting from one leg to the other in feigned embarra.s.sment, and playing his part perfectly. "I lived with grandmother at Cove Castle."

"That's Lord Conniston's place," said Miss Berengaria, more perplexed than ever. "What were you doing there?"

"I lived with grandmother. My name is Jerry Moon."

"Oh! And how did you come to be selling matches?"

"His lordship got me a situation at a tobacconist's," said the child-like Moon, "and then he got me turned off."

"Why? That is not like Lord Conniston."

"You had better not ask the reason," interposed Julius; "it is not to Lord Conniston's credit."

"But I must know the reason," said the old dame, sharply, "if you want me to take the lad into my service."

Jerry in answer to a look of Beryl's began to weep ostentatiously.

"I saw his lordship dressed as a soldier," he snuffled, "and I told Mr.

Beryl. His lordship was so angry that he got me turned off, saying I was ungrateful."

"You should always hold your tongue," said Miss Berengaria, angrily.

"You had no right to tell what Lord Conniston wished kept secret. It was only a freak on his part. He left the army at my request."

"At your request?" said Julius, looking at her directly.

Forearmed as she was, Miss Berengaria, with the consciousness of Bernard's secret, flushed through her withered skin. However, she did not lower her eyes but turned the conversation defiantly. "Let us keep to the matter in hand. Do you want to enter my service?"

"Yes, sweet lady."

"Don't talk like that, child. Call me ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am," said Jerry, submissively. "Mr. Beryl--such a kind gentleman, ma'am--said you would help me."

"I will so long as you are honest."

Jerry thrust his tongue in his cheek, but Julius answered, "I can vouch for his honesty," he said. "But he talks too much."

"He must hold his tongue here," said the old dame, severely, and shaking her trowel at the boy. "Where are his clothes?"

"I have none but what's on," cried Jerry. "The kind gentleman got them for me, ma'am."

"You are a better Christian than I thought," said Miss Berengaria, looking at Beryl. "Well, you can stay here, boy. Go to the kitchen and tell the servants to give you something to eat."

Jerry grinned, and ducked towards the door. "Good-bye, Jerry," said Beryl, kindly. "Don't forget me."

"If I do may I be--oh no, kind lady--I mean, ma'am--I won't swear. I never did, having been to Sunday school. Yes, ma'am, I'm going," and Jerry in answer to an imperative wave of his new mistress's hand disappeared. Miss Berengaria turned to Beryl.

"He certainly has a long tongue," she said severely. "I must see that he doesn't swear or smoke or indulge in any of those wicked things. I hope he will do your recommendation credit, Mr. Beryl."