A lurid light came over Sir Massingberd's evil face; for a moment I trembled for the man who dared to speak such words to him, but almost instantly he recovered his usual cruel calm. "Your sagacity, Mr. Gerard," returned he, "is truly admirable. Is it the result of experience or intuition? or has this old ginger-faced harridan made you her favoured confidant? With your fondness for all such vagabonds I am well acquainted." "The reprobation of a man like you, Sir Massingberd, should be dearer than the praise of ordinary mortals; but this matter does not concern myself in any way." The baronet muttered something between his set teeth. "Pshaw! man," continued Mr. Gerard, with unutterable scorn; "think not to frighten <i>me</i>. I am stronger than you, because I am richer; you are as poor as those very vagabonds whom you despise; your very existence depends upon the alms of a stranger. That you are unscrupulous in your revenges, I do not doubt; but you would have to deal in Harvey Gerard with one who only uses honourable weapons with an honourable foe. If you did me or mine a mischief, I swear to you that I would shoot you like a dog." The frame of the speaker shook with contemptuous passion. Defiant as was his language, it fell far short of the disdain expressed in his tone and manner. It was not in Sir Massingberd's nature to be overawed, but his truculent features no longer maintained their grimness--their cruel humour. He could not put aside a man like Gerard with a brutal jest. I do not say that he was conscious of his own inferiority, but he knew that his opponent not only did not fear, but actually despised him. This was wormwood. "I am ashamed," continued Mr. Gerard, after a pause, "to have lost my temper with you, Sir Massingberd, upon my own account. I wish to have nothing in common with you--not even a quarrel. We were speaking of this gipsy woman, and you called her thief, and what not. Whatever may be her faults, however, it does not become you to dwell on them; but for her and her prompt assistance, your nephew would not at this moment be alive. Out of this very flask she administered to him--" So frightful an execration here broke from the baronet's lips that I anticipated it to be the prelude to a personal assault upon my host. Mr. Gerard, however, stood quietly stirring the fire, with his eyes fixed firmly but calmly on those of Sir Massingberd, just as a mad doctor might regard a dangerous patient. "That is a very singular exclamation of gratitude," observed Mr. Gerard, sardonically, "to one who has just performed you--or at least <i>yours</i>--so great a service. It really seems as though you almost regretted that it <i>was</i> performed." A look of deadly hatred had now taken the place of all other expressions on the baronet's face. It forgot even to wear its sneer.