"I'm agreeable," replied Grace; "I am tired of this life, and I don't think I could keep up my part much longer. Sydney is all very well, but he is too lackadaisical." "I should think he is, for such as you, Grace," said Mr. Pelham; "too goody-goody, eh, my girl? You want a man with a spice of the devil in him. But he has suited our turn, and you have played your part well. Give me some praise. Haven't I been magnanimous in trusting you with him--haven't I been confiding? You wouldn't get many lovers like me--trusting you out of their sight, without ever a shadow of suspicion. Then there's our young pigeon, Adolph----" "A child!" cried Grace. "Quite old enough," retorted Mr. Pelham, "for me to twist his neck for him if I had any doubts of you. But I haven't, my girl. It is not only love, but interest, that binds us together." They passed on out of my sight without having perceived me. I was astounded, not by the discovery, but by the coarse, brutal nature of the plot in which Sydney's honour was sacrificed. This woman, Grace, was a worthless schemer and a deliberate cheat. The man, Mr. Pelham, was a blackleg and a ruffian. O, that such a nature as my friend Sydney's should have been so played upon! That such a noble heart as his should have been so basely betrayed! Here was my difficulty. It was the very nobility and generosity of his nature that would cause him openly to break with me if I attempted to open his eyes to the treachery, backed only by the imperfect testimony I could bring forward. His first step would be to rush to Grace, and inform her of my accusation, and once upon their guard, this man and this woman would weave their net about him too cunningly and cleverly to allow him an opportunity to break through its meshes. Whom could I enlist to aid me? I had an intimate friend whose assistance I would have asked, and he would freely have given it, but he was absent from Oxford. I could think of but one ally, a dangerous friend to enlist because of his inexperience and of his feelings towards Grace. But I determined to risk it. I spoke to Adolph. "Adolph," I said, "can we two speak together in perfect confidence, as man to man?" "Yes," replied the lad, colouring, "in perfect confidence. I hope you are not going to lecture me about Grace." "Why should I lecture you about her?" I asked, glad at this clearing of the ground. "You are fond of her, I know, but that is a matter of the heart. You would do nothing dishonourable, nor would you be a party to dishonour." "No, indeed," he cried, and went no further. His face was scarlet; I knew in what way his conscience was pricked.