For Godfrey, he would have rather liked Tom Helmer, had he ever seen down into the best of him; but Tom's carelessness had so often misrepresented him, that Godfrey had too huge a contempt for him. And now the miserable creature had not merely grown dangerous, but had of a sudden done him the greatest possible hurt! It was all Godfrey could do to keep his contempt and hate within what he would have called the bounds of reason, as he waited for "the miserable mongrel." He kept walking up and down the little lawn, which a high shrubbery protected from the road, making a futile attempt, as often as he thought of the policy of it, to look unconcerned, and the next moment striking fierce, objectless blows with his whip. Catching sight of him from a window on the stair, Tom was so little reassured by his demeanor, that, crossing the hall, he chose from the stand a thick oak stick--poor odds against a hunting-whip in the hands of one like Godfrey, with the steel of ten years of manhood in him. Tom's long legs came doubling carelessly down the two steps from the door, as, with a gracious wave of the hand, and swinging his cudgel as if he were just going out for a stroll, he coolly greeted his visitor. But the other, instead of returning the salutation, stepped quickly up to him. "Mr. Helmer, where is Miss Lovel?" he said, in a low voice. Tom turned pale, for a pang of undefined fear shot through him, and his voice betrayed genuine anxiety as he answered: "I do not know. What has happened?" Wardour's fingers gripped convulsively his whip-handle, and the word _liar_ had almost escaped his lips; but, through the darkness of the tempest raging in him, he yes read truth in Tom's scared face and trembling words. "You were with her last night," he said, grinding it out between his teeth. "I was," answered Tom, looking more scared still. "Where is she now?" demanded Godfrey again. "I hope to God you know," answered Tom, "for I don't." "Where did you leave her?" asked Wardour, in the tone of an avenger rather than a judge. Tom, without a moment's hesitation, described the place with precision--a spot not more than a hundred yards from the house. "What right had you to come sneaking about the place?" hissed Godfrey, a vain attempt to master an involuntary movement of the muscles of his face at once clinching and showing his teeth. At the same moment he raised his whip unconsciously. Tom instinctively stepped back, and raised his stick in attitude of defense. Godfrey burst into a scornful laugh. "You fool!" he said; "you need not be afraid; I can see you are speaking the truth. You dare not tell me a lie!" "It is enough," returned Tom with dignity, "that I do not tell lies. I am not afraid of you, Mr. Wardour. What I dare or dare not do, is neither for you nor me to say. You are the older and stronger and every way better man, but that gives you no right to bully me."