"Lewis," he said, "I have repented of that. You--you--know I have. And at my mother's death it will be paid. I can do no more," and he rubbed his chin as he spoke, which action, for some reason that Granger could not have explained, irritated him as much as ever. Perhaps it did so because it recalled other instances when he had sat and watched him doing the same thing. "Then," continued Granger, he repeating with emphasis, "there is the bond for five thousand guineas--the marriage bond--the marriage bond. I worked hard in that matter----" "Curse the marriage bond!" cried Bufton. "Curse it, and the marriage, and all concerned with it. That has sunk me, ruined me for ever. Oh! Lewis," he went on, "do you know what I live for now? Now! now!" "Annulling it; breaking it, I imagine." "No!" the other almost shrieked, "no! it cannot be broken; they say I am bound, tied for ever! No! it is not that, but vengeance on the cat who snared me, and--and--vengeance on the man who has married the true heiress. He insulted me in her park, he defeated me; me--I who knew every trick of fence; and he drove me forth. And I do believe he was aware of that scheme while, if he did not aid in it, he at least did not prevent it." "You ruined Anne's sister, drove her to her death. You have much to answer for," Granger said, his voice hard and stern; so hard and stern that almost it would seem as if he were egging the man on to frenzy for a purpose. "Bah!" cried Bufton, "I would have provided well for the girl--have done all except marry her. That was impossible. I needed an heiress, and I got that other. That thing; that dancing, singing thing; fit only to be the wife of her mistress's coachman, or some porter." "Wherefore you desire vengeance?" "Vengeance! Oh, my God! if I could but have that on her and him--this insolent, supercilious sailor. If I could. If I could." "Yet you were always an admirer of superciliousness yourself." "Bah!" he cried again, "amongst wits and men of fashion, yes! There it is suitable. But this fellow, this broken-down, impoverished man of birth, who can do no better than go a-sailing. And to be supercilious to me!" "Vengeance, eh?" said Lewis Granger, meditating--pretending to meditate. "Vengeance." "Ay, vengeance on both; but I know not how to obtain it." "Do you know," said Granger quietly--softly, indeed--"that both are in this neighbourhood? Not two miles away from where we now sit." "What!" cried Bufton, full of astonishment. "What! Both here; two miles away! It is impossible." "Nevertheless it is true. Sir Geoffrey is in command of a French prize called the _Mignonne_, which lies off Bugsby's Hole. Anne--Bufton," with his eyes full on the man before him, "is in attendance on her mistress, Lady Barry." "Oh! And Anne--Bufton. Damn you! Why call her that? Why----" "You say your wedding is unbreakable. Therefore she is--Anne Bufton." "How do you know all this? Do not play with me. Answer me truthfully, in God's name!"