“I believe I have,” said Davis, with a sort of stern decision in his tone; “and there was more difficulty in the case than you are aware of.” “There must have been very considerable difficulty,” rejoined Paul, slowly. “Even in the very little I have seen of him I can detect a man whose temperament must have presented the greatest embarrassments. He is proud, very proud, suspectful to any extent. I have five cards--forty-seven.” “Not good.” “Three queens.” “Four tens.” “So, then, my tierce in spades is not good, of course. I play one.” “Fifteen and five, twenty, and the tens ninety-four. The first honor I have scored this hour. The difficulty I allude to was with my daughter; she would n't have him.” “Not have him?--not accept a peer of the realm?” “Who told her he was a peer? She only knows him as the Honorable Annesley Beecher.” “Even so. As the Honorable Annesley Beecher, he is a man of high connections,--related to some of the first people. A dub--play a club. I take it that such a man is a very high mark indeed.” “_She_ wasn't of your mind, that's clear,” said Davis, abruptly; “nor do I believe it would have signified in the least to have told her that he _was_ a Lord.” “Romantic!” muttered Paul. “No, not a bit.” “Loved another, perhaps.” “How should she? She never saw any other except a one-eyed Pole, that taught her music at that Belgian school, and a sort of hairy dwarf, that gave lessons in drawing! A hundred and seventeen. It's your deal.” “And he himself has no suspicion of his brother's death?” said Classon, as he gave out the cards. “Not the slightest. He was trying to write a letter to him, to break the news of his marriage, only yesterday.” “Cleverly done,--most cleverly done,” said Paul, in ecstasy. “If he had come to the knowledge, he might very possibly have refused _her_.” “I rather--suspect--not,” said Grog, dwelling slowly on each word, while his countenance assumed an expression of fierce and terrible determination. “A lucky take in, that,--the queen of diamonds: it gives me seven cards. Refuse her! by Heaven, he'd have had a short experience of his peerage! Kings and knaves--six, and seven I play--twenty-three. Piqued again, Holy Paul! No, no; he'd never have dared that.” Classon shook his head doubtingly. “You might just as well tell me, Paul Classon, that you 'd refuse to marry them,” said Davis, as he struck the table with his clenched fist, “and that I would bear it! I have a way of not being denied what I have determined on; that has done me good service in life. That blear-eyed boy--the Attaché at the Legation in Frankfort--wanted to refuse me a passport for the Honorable Annesley Beecher and Mrs. Beecher, saying that, until the marriage, there was no such person. But I whispered a word to him across the table, and he gave it, and there it is now.”