Heedless of the coming storm young Gatliffe walked merrily along until he caught sight of the malevolent countenance of his quarrelsome schoolfellow. “Ugh, it’s you, is it?” said Peace, with inexpressible disgust, both in his tone and manner; “you, eh?” “What’s the matter, my friend?” inquired Tom. “Friend be hanged,” answered Peace, “you’re no friend of mine. What do you do crawling about here? Tell me that. Oh, you may put on one of your sanctimonious looks, but it won’t deceive me. I say again, what do you do here?” “Upon my word, Peace, you conduct yourself in a strange manner. Has anyone offended you?” “Never you mind whether they have or not; you are lurking about here for no good purpose. Where have you come from?” “Well, from the house of a friend of mine.” “You are full of friends――everybody’s your friend, I s’pose. Is your friend’s name Maitland?” “You are quite correct in your surmise――it is.” “I thought so, and I suppose, if I may make so bold as to inquire, it is not so much the widow who has attracted you to the house as the daughter?” This was said in a tone of bitter irony. “What if I refuse to answer impertinent questions?” “You will refuse. You dare not answer them――you’re a mischief-making, lying, canting humbug. It is you, and none but you, who have poisoned the mind of Miss Maitland against me――Charles Peace――do you hear?” Tom Gatliffe was perfectly astounded. As Peace gave utterance to these last words his countenance seemed to darken with the darkness of a curse. “Look here,” said Gatliffe, in a more serious tone. “For the life of me I do not understand what you mean; but I tell you frankly that I am not disposed to be insulted and abused――the more so since I have not by word or deed done you the slightest harm.” “It’s a lie――a miserable lie!” yelled Peace, poking his face forward towards the speaker, and making a hideous grimace. “Are you mad? What on earth possesses you?” inquired the other. “Haven’t you just left Miss Maitland?” cried Peace. “Suppose I have――what’s that to you?” “Oh――oh――what is it to me! Why, only this――she looked with eyes of favour on me until you set her against me.” “Looked with favour on _you_!” said Gatliffe, with ineffable disgust. “Me set her against you? Why, Peace, you are beside yourself. Listen. I have known the Maitlands for years; and, long before you set eyes upon either, was the accepted suitor of the daughter. And neither you nor any other man shall come between me and Aveline Maitland――not even a peer of the realm.” “Don’t you fancy you’re going to carry it off with a high hand, you despicable, crawling reptile!” exclaimed Peace, in a paroxysm of rage. “There’s not a word of truth in what you’ve been saying. I know full well who I have to thank for turning her against me――you, none but you.” With these words he rushed at Gatliffe like a wild beast. He wound his fingers around his throat and endeavoured to throttle him.