At the moment Leech appeared in the hall, Jacquelin was lying on his lounge, with Blair Cary and Rupert sitting beside him, and the first he knew of the Provost’s presence was when Blair, with an exclamation, sprang to her feet. He turned and faced Leech as he entered the hall. The Provost appeared dazed by the scene before him; for scores of eyes were fastened on him from the walls, and he stood for a moment rooted to the spot, with his gaze fixed on the face of the “Indian-killer” over the big fireplace. That strange embodiment of fierce resolve seemed almost to appal him. The next instant, with a gesture, he came forward to where Jacquelin lay. At the same moment Blair retired to seek Mrs. Gray and Miss Thomasia. Leech’s eyes followed her as she went out. “Well, sir, what do you want?” Jacquelin asked, haughtily. “Take off your coat.” It was the form of order given to negroes when they were to be thrashed. Jacquelin’s face flushed. “What for?” “Because if you don’t, I’ll take it off for you. I mean to cut these buttons off.” “You can cut them off.” Jacquelin had grown quiet, and his face was white. Rupert drew nearer to him, his cheeks flushed and his breath coming quickly. “I guess I can,” sneered the Provost. He came up to the lounge, pushing Rupert aside, who interposed between them. He leaned over and cut the buttons from the jacket, one by one. “I’ll send these to my girl,” he said, tauntingly—“Unless you want them for yours,” he added, with a meaning laugh. Jacquelin controlled himself to speak quietly. “Tell your master that some day I will call him to account for this outrage.” “Young puppies bark, but don’t bite,” sneered the Provost. In an instant Rupert was on him, and, boy as he was, he struck the Provost a blow which, taking him unawares, staggered him. Leech recovered himself, however, and seizing the boy, slapped him furiously several times. Jacquelin was on his feet in a moment. He sprang toward the Provost, but the men interposed, and he sank back on his lounge, breathless and white. “Hound, for that I will some day make a negro whip you within an inch of your life,” he said, beside himself. Leech grinned in triumph and, walking up, leant over him officiously, as though to see if there were still any buttons left. As he did so, Jacquelin raised himself and slapped him across the face. Leech with an oath sprang back and jerked out a pistol; and possibly but for an accident which gave time for the intervention of his men, Jacquelin Gray’s career would have ended then.