“How did you come by that striped cravat, sir?” asked O'Shea, angrily, as he caught sight of Joe in front. “I took it out of the drawer.” “It's mine, then!” “It was wonst I did n't suppose you 'd wear it after what the widow woman said of you up at the Villa,--that Mrs. Morris. 'Here 's the O'Shea,' says she, 'masquerading as a zebra;' as much as to say it was another baste you was in reality.” “She never dared to be so insolent” “She did; I heard it myself.” “I don't believe you; I never do believe one word you say.” “That's exactly what I hear whenever I say you 're a man of fine fortune and good estate; they all cry out, 'What a lying rascal he is!'” O'Shea made a spring towards the poker, and Joe as rapidly took up a position behind the dressing-glass. “Hush!” cried O'Shea, “there's some one at the door.” And a loud summons at the same time confirmed the words. With a ready instinct Joe speedily recovered himself, and hastened to open it. “Is your master at home?” asked a voice. “Oh, Heathcote, is it you?” exclaimed O'Shea; “Just step into the next room, and I 'll be with you in a second or two. Joe, show Captain Heathcote into the drawing-room.” “I wondher what's the matter with him?” said Joe, confidentially, as he came back. “I never see any one look so low.” “So much the better,” said O'Shea, merrily; “it's a sign he's coming to pay money. When a man is about to put you off with a promise, he lounges in with an easy, devil-may-care look that seems to say, 'It's all one, old fellow, whether you have an I O or the ready tin.'” “There's a deal of truth in that,” said Joe, approvingly, and with a look that showed how pleasurable it was to him to hear such words of wisdom. CHAPTER XX. A DREARY FORENOON. O'Shea swaggered into the room where Heathcote was standing to await him, in the attitude of one who desired to make his visit as brief as might be. “How good of you to drive over to this dreary spot,” began the Member, jauntily, “where the blue devils seem to have their especial home. I 'm hipped and bored here as I never was before. Come, sit down; have you breakfasted?” “Three hours ago.” “Take some luncheon, then; a glass of sherry, at least.” “Nothing--thanks--it's too early.” “Won't you have even a weed?” said he, opening a cigar-box. “I 'm provided,” said the other, showing the half of a still lighted cigar. “I came over this morning, hoping to catch you at home, and make some sort of settlement about our little transactions together.”