And so, growling and complaining, and yet half laughing, Adonis rolled from his couch and began to get into his clothes. Chester's blood ran cold, then boiled. Think of a man who could laugh like that,--and remember! _When_, how, had he returned to the house? Listen! "Confound you, Sloat, _I_ wouldn't rout _you_ out in this shabby way. Why couldn't you let a man sleep? I'm tired half to death." "What have you done to tire you? Slept all yesterday afternoon, and danced perhaps a dozen times at the doctor's last night. You've had more sleep than I've had, begad! You took Miss Renwick home before 'twas over, and mean it was of you, too, with all the fellows that wanted to dance with her." "That wasn't my fault: Mrs. Maynard made her promise to be home at twelve. You old cackler, that's what sticks in your crop yet. You are persecuting me because they like me so much better than they do you," he went on, laughingly now. "Come, now, Sloat, confess, it is all because you're jealous. You couldn't have that picture, and I could." Chester fairly started. He had urgent need to see this young gallant,--he was staying for that purpose,--but should he listen to further talk like this? Too late to move, for Sloat's answer came like a shot: "I bet you you _never_ could!" "But didn't I tell you I had?--a week ago?" "Ay, but I didn't believe it. You couldn't show it!" "Pshaw, man! Look here. Stop, though! Remember, _on your honor_, you never tell." "On my honor, of course." "Well, there!" A drawer was opened. Chester heard a gulp of dismay, of genuine astonishment and conviction mixed, as Sloat muttered some half-articulate words and then came into the front room. Jerrold followed, caught sight of Chester, and stopped short, with sudden and angry change of color. "I did not know _you_ were here," he said. "It was to find where _you_ were that I came," was the quiet answer.