"It will do for what I have to say," Gerald interrupted. "All right. What is it?" "I want two things of you. First, you will promise never to dare to address my--Mrs. Witt again." "And the second?" asked George. "You will write and say you've told lies, and are sorry for it." "I address whom I please and write what I please." Vane interposed. "Really, Neston--you, Gerald, I mean--don't make a row here. Can't you get him away, Tommy?" Gerald gave Tommy a warning look, and poor Tommy shook his head mournfully. George felt the necessity of avoiding a scene. He began to move quietly away. Gerald stood full in his path. "You don't go till you've answered. Will you do what I tell you?" "Really, Gerald," George began, still clinging to peace. "Yes or no?" "No," said George, with a smile and a shrug. "Then, you cur, take----" In another moment he would have struck George full in the face, but the vigilant Vane caught his arm as he raised it. "You damned fool! Are you drunk?" he hissed into his ear. "Everybody's looking." It was true. Everybody was. "All the better," Gerald blurted out. "I'll thrash him----" Tommy Myles ranged up and passed his hand through the angry man's other arm. "Can't you go, George?" asked Vane. "No," said George, calmly; "not till he's quiet." The hush that had fallen on the room attracted Mrs. Pocklington's attention. In a moment, as it seemed, though her movements were as a rule slow and stately, she was beside them, just in time to see Gerald make a violent effort to throw off Vane's detaining hand. "I cannot get anybody to go into the music-room," she said; "and the signora is waiting to begin. Mr. Neston, give me your arm, and we will show the way." Then her eyes seemed to fall for the first time on George. "Oh, you here too, Mr. George? Laura is looking for you everywhere. Do find her. Come, Mr. Neston. Mr. Vane, go and give your arm to a lady." The group scattered, obedient to her commands, and everybody breathed a little sigh, half of relief, half of disappointment, and told one another that Mrs. Pocklington was a great woman. "In another second," said Tommy Myles, as he restored himself with a glass of champagne, "it would have been a case of Bow Street!" "I think it fairly amounts to a _fracas_," said Mr. Espion to himself; and as a _fracas_, accordingly, it figured. CHAPTER IX. GERALD NESTON SATISFIES HIMSELF.