He lurched towards her; and she seized him by the lapel of his coat; again he looked at her; caught perhaps something of the urgency of her spirit, and said, in altered tones: “Wait a minute, me girl, I’ll just drain the tankard to steady my head; and I am with you.” She got him as far as the window seat in the coffee-room; and then, casting a glance without, exclaimed: “See for yourself. Turn your eye yonder, and see for yourself.” Lord Kilcroney flung a bewildered gaze in the direction of her pointed finger; opened his mouth, closed it again and wiped his forehead. “Jasper! Jasper Standish and a lady, as I live! What the dev----” “Don’t you know the lady, my Lord? See now, see now, with the lamplight on her face. She is getting into the chaise. Don’t you recognise Lady Selina Simpson?” “Se--Selina Simpson!” echoed he with a fine tipsy sibilance. He let himself fall on the window seat, and gripped his head in both hands. “S--Selina?” “The Mad Brat, my Lord! Good God, we are too late, the chaise is driving away! This will be fine hearing for my Lady Verney, and for your lady’s own dear friend, Lady Nan!” Lord Kilcroney dropped his hands and sat, with protruding eyeballs, staring at Pamela. Then his waistcoat was shaken with a rumbling laugh; and he made an uncertain poke with his forefinger. “And, is it poor Simpson, then, that’s in the claws of that old red raven of a doctor this minute? And my Lady off with Jasper? D’ye know, it’s a monstrous joke! Oh, Gad--Jasper was her first love!” Pamela flung a single searching look upon him. He was muttering to himself, and laughing, winking, and shaking his head, the picture of affable inebriety. “My Lord, my Lord, you must pull yourself together! Lady Selina is not twenty yet. And him such a bold, bad man, as indeed you know, my Lord. ’Tis ruin, ’tis disgrace, for her, and that poor innocent lad, her husband!” “By the powers!” Kilcroney staggered to his feet. “Jasper’s a scoundrel! I’ll not have it! What, Nan Day’s little sister, mere child--monstrous! Get me a wet napkin, girl.” He plucked his wig from his head as he spoke, and looked, Pamela thought, singularly boyish with his close-cropped red poll exposed to view. Even as she hurried out to summon the drawer, a brilliant idea struck her. Colonel Endacott’s curricle, and a fresh horse! With anything of a roadster, so light a vehicle should easily overtake the post-chaise. ’Twas a plan of retributive justice which pleased Miss Pounce hugely.