Well, I should have had warning a-plenty by this time, but it was all to no purpose; I had the full realization that I was treading a dangerous path, and yet it was not in my conscious power to take one single step toward safety. Call it fatalism if you will, or the pure recklessness engendered by the growing conviction that Betty was lost to me for good and all; whatever the secret springs of my present course of action, the outcome inevitably must have been the same; a Scotchman would have said that I was fey. And perhaps I was. I never had been what you call a drinking man, but to-night I was matching glass for glass with "Black Jack" Thaneford, who could put any man, yes any three men in King William County, under the table. The night came on apace, and twice Effingham had been ordered to bring in another supply of spirits. Suddenly John Thaneford broke away from the trivial subjects which we had been discussing. "Some two years ago, Cousin Hugh," he began, "I gave you a choice--Betty Graeme or the 'Hundred.' Do you remember?" "I remember," I answered steadily. "But you would not make it; you took them both." "What right had you to force such an issue?" I demanded hotly. "That is beside the point. I did force it." "Well?" "I'll give you the final opportunity." "Possibly, you have forgotten that Betty is now my wife?" "I have not forgotten it." "And as for the 'Hundred'----" "The 'Hundred,'" he repeated, a dull, red flush dyeing his high forehead. "There is another interest now besides my own that I am bound to protect; I have a son." "Ah, I had not heard. Of course that does make a difference." "All the difference. See here, Thaneford," I went on impulsively, "I don't want to play an ungenerous part, and I can see something of your side of the case. I am prepared to make some provision, indeed an ample one; but the 'Hundred' must remain where it is." "And that is your last word?" he queried almost indifferently. "My last word," I answered, looking him straight in the eye. "Then we know where we are," he responded. "The bottle stands with you, Cousin Hugh." We renewed our potations, but thenceforth in silence; for the space of an hour and more not another word passed between us. And the silence was an hostile one, the quiet of watchful and eternal enmity. I know that I hated John Thaneford and that he hated me; moreover, this condition could never change or alter until the end of time itself. Well, anything was better than the false cordiality of conventional speech; at least we knew where we stood. And still our grim wassail went on. * * * * *