“I didn't mean to give offence,” replied Sheppard, sulkily. “But, let me tell you, it's not a pleasant sight to see the girl one likes in the arms of another.” “You want another drubbing, I perceive,” said Thames, frowning. “No, I don't. Enough's as good as a feast of the dainties you provide. I'll think no more about her. Save us!” he cried, as his glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation. “Is this _her_ work?” “It is,” answered Thames. “Do you see any likeness?” “Don't I,” returned Jack, bitterly. “Strange!” he continued, as if talking to himself. “How very like it is!” “Not so strange, surely,” laughed Thames, “that a picture should resemble the person for whom it's intended.” “Ay, but it _is_ strange how much it resembles somebody for whom it's _not_ intended. It's exactly like a miniature I have in my pocket.” “A miniature! Of whom?” “That I can't say,” replied Jack, mysteriously. “But, I half suspect, of your father.” “My father!” exclaimed Thames, in the utmost astonishment; “let me see it!” “Here it is,” returned Jack, producing a small picture in a case set with brilliants. Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently--judging from his attire--of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. “You're right Jack,” he said, after a pause, during which he contemplated the picture with the most fixed attention: “this must have been my father!” “No doubt of it,” answered Sheppard; “only compare it with Winny's drawing, and you'll find they're as like as two peas in a pod.” “Where did you get it?” inquired Thames. “From Lady Trafford's, where I took the box.” “Surely, you haven't stolen it?” “Stolen's an awkward word. But, as you perceive, I brought it away with me.” “It must be restored instantly,--be the consequences what they may.” “You're not going to betray me!” cried Jack, in alarm. “I am not,” replied Thames; “but I insist upon your taking it back at once.” “Take it back yourself,” retorted Jack, sullenly. “I shall do no such thing.” “Very well,” replied Thames, about to depart. “Stop!” exclaimed Jack, planting himself before the door; “do you want to get me sent across the water?” “I want to save you from disgrace and ruin,” returned Thames. “Bah!” cried Jack, contemptuously; “nobody's disgraced and ruined unless he's found out. I'm safe enough if you hold your tongue. Give me that picture, or I'll make you!” “Hear me,” said Thames, calmly; “you well know you're no match for me.” “Not at fisticuffs, perhaps,” interrupted Jack, fiercely; “but I've my knife.” “You daren't use it.” “Try to leave the room, and see whether I daren't,” returned Jack, opening the blade. “I didn't expect this from you,” rejoined Thames, resolutely. “But your threats won't prevent my leaving the room when I please, and as I please. Now, will you stand aside?” “I won't,” answered Jack, obstinately.