“_I will not!_” he returned, as resolutely, all his antagonism aroused. “Do you imagine that, after having struggled so desperately to attain the dearest hopes of my life, I will fly like a coward in the very hour of their achievement?” But even while he spoke, with all the bravado of which he was master, he shifted uneasily before the terrible look in Geoffrey Huntress’ eye. Yet it aroused all the passion in his nature; the hot blood mounted to his brow, coursing in an angry tide through all his veins, and before either of his companions could suspect his intention, he swung aloft his right arm to smite his rival to the floor. But the blow never descended. In his hot-headed anger he forgot the danger of his position, made a misstep, lost his balance, and fell headlong down the long flight of stairs, and then lay silent and motionless, while those two men above looked down upon him with white, startled faces, and hearts throbbing heavily with a sickening fear. The stairs were carpeted and thickly padded, so that his fall had not been a very noisy one; yet the disturbance was sufficient to bring both Mrs. Huntress and the physician forth from Gladys’ room, in a state of alarm and consternation. “What is it? Oh, August, what has happened?” cried Mrs. Huntress clinging to her husband. “That villain played the spy upon us, and in attempting to strike Geoffrey, lost his balance and fell,” Mr. Huntress explained, adding, anxiously: “But pray go back and stay with Gladys; let her know nothing of this, even if she wakes, and we will take care of this fellow.” He led her back to the young girl’s room, and was greatly relieved to see that she was still sleeping heavily, and had not been conscious of the confusion outside. The doctor and Geoffrey, meanwhile, had sprung down the stairs, lifted the prostrate man, and carried him into one of the rooms below. A careful examination convinced Doctor Hoyt that there were no bones broken, the thickly carpeted and padded stairs had doubtless been his salvation in this respect; if he had suffered no internal injury, he had surely escaped in a wonderful manner. The force and shock of the fall had stunned him, but it was not long before he began to rally and look about him. As he sat up, rubbing his confused head and trying to realize what had happened to him, Doctor Hoyt glanced curiously from him to Geoffrey. Both were dressed in evening suits, both were very pale, and their resemblance to each other was something wonderful. “I do not wonder that the scamp succeeded in his villainous scheme,” the physician said, in an aside, to Mr. Huntress. “I never saw twins that were more of an exact counterpart of each other. “Well, how do you find yourself now?” he added, in his abrupt, professional way, turning to Everet. “I believe my shoulder is sprained,” he replied, cringing with pain, as he attempted to move his left arm. “Any peculiar faintness at the stomach—any internal pain?”