"No," replied the other, "save," adding, "do not call us too early to-morrow. We're not of the kind that rise with the sun. Nine o'clock will answer. And see that that wife of yours gets up the best breakfast that can be obtained." "You won't have to complain of that, sir," exclaimed the innkeeper, pompously. "You'll get a piece of steak with the blood followin' the knife; crisp potatoes, a plate of buckwheat cakes, with butter as is butter, and honey that's the real thing; a mug of coffee that would bear up an egg, with good old-fashioned cream, not skim milk, to say nothing of--" "That will do," exclaimed the stranger, with an impatient wave of his white hand. "I never like to know beforehand what I'm going to get." "But the lady, sir? Mebbe she'd like somethin' kind a delicate like--a bit o' bird or somethin' like that?" "We'll see about that to-morrow all in good time," fairly closing the door in the garrulous innkeeper's face "Good-night," and he shut the door with a click and turned the key in the lock, and for the first time he was alone with the girl he had forced so dastardly into the cruellest of marriages. He had placed Faynie on the white couch. He crossed the room and stood looking down at her, with his hands behind his back, and a sardonic smile on his face. "You and your millions of money belong to me," he cried, under his breath. "Ye gods! what a lucky dog I am after all!" and a low laugh that was not pleasant to hear broke from his lips. At that instant a broken sigh stirred the girl's white lips. "Ah, you are coming to, are you?" he muttered. "The old lady's toddy is beginning to revive you." He could not help but notice how unusually beautiful the girl was. "What a chance of fortune this is for me, but it does not follow, even though she was madly in love with my cousin, that she will hold me in the same favor. But I'll stand none of her airs. I'll show her right from the start that I'm the boss, and see how that will strike her fancy. There'll be a terrible time when she comes to--screams, shrieks of anger, that will call everybody to the door." He turned on his heel and walked over to the mantel, where the innkeeper had deposited the bottle and the glass. He poured out a heavy draught and drank it at a single swallow. This was followed by another and yet another. "Ah, there's nothing like bracing oneself up for a scene like this," he muttered, with a sardonic laugh. The liquor seemed to turn the blood in his veins to fire and set his heart in a glow. He laughed aloud. In that moment he felt as rich as a king, and as diabolical as Satan himself. He was nerved for any emergency; he was the girl's lord and master, her wedded husband. She would be made to understand that fact with little ceremony. He threw himself down in a chair, where he could watch her, and waited results, and each instant he sat there the fumes of the brandy rose higher and higher, until it reached his brain.