"There's no way for me to do but to put up with it," returned Arthur, doggedly; "I've got to stay there, and make it up; and I may as well do it quietly as to make a disturbance about it, because it's got to be done." "It's enough to tempt one to try the strength of the old adage----," continued Clinton, thoughtfully, and pausing in the midst of his sentence. "What's that?" asked Arthur, without looking up. "Why, to take the game as well as the name," said the other, with a short laugh, and without taking his eyes from Arthur's face. "True enough," cried Quirk, "you might as well be a thief as to be called one, according to my opinion." Arthur placed his elbow on the table, and looked into the lamp-blaze thoughtfully, with his head on his hand. "You are both ready to advise," said he, after a moment's silence, "but I doubt if either of you know what you'd do in my case, after all." "I'd be avenged," said Clinton, resolutely; "but you are not me, and I don't ask you to do as I would." "That's just the thing!" cried Quirk; "and if you can hit upon a plan, carry it out; there'll be some satisfaction in that." "Revenge!" said Arthur, bitterly; "how can I be revenged? It would be a sparrow struggling against a vulture." "You admit you have been wronged?" "Most unjustly so." "And you would be avenged, if you could?" "Yes, if I spilled my heart's blood." Arthur had drank deeply of the wine, and his blood was heated with it, and his worst passions aroused. He had been goaded into the belief that he had been grossly insulted and had taken it submissively, and that revenge was his only resource. He threw aside his chair, and strode back and forth across the narrow room, with the excited tread of the caged lion. Clinton watched him furtively from beneath his brows for a moment, then rising, linked arms, and leaned toward him in a confidential manner. "My poor friend, I pity you from the bottom of my heart; count upon me whenever you are in want of a friend, will you?" "Always, Clinton; thank you." "And if I should try to think upon some good plan, lay some good plot, by which you could gain retribution for this great wrong, would you then be courageous, and carry it out handsomely?" "Would I? Never fear me there. I'll show you that I'm not one to bow my neck to the insults of a money-holder. I'll carry out anything you say." "Bravo! my boy; you've got the right kind of spirit in you; that's what I like to see--you're a man of pluck." "About when do you think you'll have this grand plot ready for me, eh?" "The first dark night." "You'll consult the clerk of the we-weather as to when that is c-coming, eh?" "I suppose so," said Clinton, laughing. "Meanwhile, come down to my house the last of the week, say Friday night, and I'll have all things in cap-a-pie order for you." "How do I know where to find you, my more than brother," said Arthur, clasping Clinton's hand closely. "Quirk knows the way. You'll come?" "Depend upon it."