Frederick Spenceley had entirely forgotten the presence of any one but himself. He gave vent to his feelings in a low but distinctly audible-- ‘D--n them!’ He suddenly felt a touch on his arm, and, turning round with his usual disproportionate start, beheld Mr. Hoyle at his elbow, looking into his face. ‘Oh! Confound you! What do you want, creeping up to a fellow in that way?’ ‘I beg your pardon, sir. I have been looking at that man Myles Heywood....’ ‘What, that’s the blackguard’s name, is it?’ ‘Yes, sir. My step-son. A--_some_ young ladies choose strange friends, sir; don’t you think so?’ Spenceley was about to ask roughly what business of his it was; but something in the intent, glittering fixity of the man’s gaze held him fast. ‘Perhaps they do,’ said he, slowly. ‘What then?’ ‘Only this. That young man’s mother is now my wife. I ought to know what sort of a character he is. I ought to know something about the young lady, too. If the facts about both of them, the real facts, were known, _she_ would be in a different position from what she has, and he----’ Mr. Hoyle laughed. ‘He--what about him?’ asked Mr. Spenceley, almost breathlessly. ‘Well, I don’t think that young fool of a master of his----’ ‘Who is his master?’ ‘Mallory.’ ‘Ah--h!’ ‘He’s taken a fancy to him; he’s offered to help him. He did help him to his present place. But it was in ignorance of the facts. If he knew the facts, my young gentleman would not be in such a hurry to patronise him. In fact--he’d be ruined.’ ‘Facts--what facts?’ ‘Ah!’ said Mr. Hoyle. ‘That’s just it. Properly to investigate and establish those facts might be rather expensive.’ ‘Oh! you are certain that if they were known they would have the requisite effect?’ ‘You mean----’ ‘Of parting him and her--of punishing her?’ ‘I tell you, he would leave the place, and she would cry her eyes out. I know it.’ ‘And about how expensive would that be?’ demanded Spenceley. ‘It would cost a hundred pounds, and I should want five-and-twenty to go on with--the rest down when I tell you he has gone.’ Spenceley put his hand on the money. ‘This is five-and-twenty,’ he remarked. ‘I must give them a cheque for it, instead of money down. But remember, if you’re cheating me----’ ‘On my soul and honour, sir,’ said Hoyle, with almost vehement earnestness, ‘you may trust me. It’s as much my cause as yours. And meantime, if you should hear any reports to the disadvantage of a certain lady, don’t deny them--I told you I knew some queer facts about them both.’ Scarcely had the money been transferred to the keeping of Mr. Hoyle, than the door was opened, and Canon Ponsonby, Sebastian Mallory, and others, came in. Mr. Hoyle began to study his documents, and Fred Spenceley to look out of the window again, his heart beating unheroically fast, with a sense of peril of which he felt ashamed, and an undercurrent of eager thirst for revenge, the stronger in that there was now some prospect of its being gratified.