"It's a blind alley right enough," assented Warriner. He picked up the spy glass with which he had been experimenting, and looked it over with minute attention. "Did you ever hear," he asked, "that in his younger days Fielding Thaneford was considered to be an expert in the science of optics? He made a number of improvements in lenses, and enjoyed a reputation quite analogous to that of John Brashear, of Pittsburg. I dare say he constructed this very lens." "But on the twenty-first of June, this year of grace, the old man was physically helpless. He couldn't have walked ten feet without assistance." "I'm not trying to bring him into it," replied Warriner calmly. "I merely state another fact that should be borne in mind." * * * * * The noise of wheels on the gravelled driveway announced the arrival of a visitor, and presently I recognized John Thaneford's voice inquiring for Betty. It annoyed me that he should come to the house, but Betty had given him the appointment, and I had no shadow of an excuse for interfering. After fidgetting around for some ten minutes I begged Warriner to make himself at home, and left the house for the ostensible purpose of giving some directions to the workmen who were relaying a brick wall leading to the glass-houses. But I kept an eye on the front door, and when, a quarter of an hour later, John Thaneford finally made his appearance, I managed to meet him on the portico. One glance at his dark face satisfied me as to the nature of the answer he had received from Betty. That was all I wanted to know, and I would have passed him with a bare word and nod. But he would not have it so. "I have just one thing to say to you, Cousin Hugh," he began. Cousin Hugh again! It was astonishing what concentrated insolence this rural bully contrived to put into this ostensibly friendly salutation. But no matter; I did not intend to have any brawling on my own doorstep, and I determined to take no notice of covert provocation. "And it's this," he continued. "The girl or the 'Hundred'--you can choose between them. But both you shan't have." He waited for me to reply, but I only stood there and looked at him. "Which is it to be?" he asked, his thick, black eyebrows narrowing to a V-point. "I've nothing to say to you," I answered. "Very good. Only remember that I played fair, and gave you your choice. Good evening, Cousin Hugh, and damn you for a white-livered Yank that I wouldn't feed to my hawgs." He raised his hand as though half inclined to strike me; then he changed his mind and dropped it. "Please don't hesitate on my account," I observed. "I can take whatever you may be able to give." Whereupon he favored me with another scowl, and departed.