"Remember," said Wilson, "I'll pay you out for this! By God! I'll pay you for this! You and I have had our knives in each other for a long time, and I have always got the better of you, and I will again, in spite of this!" And he left the club with a look of murder in his eyes. Paul also left immediately after. In spite of his day's victory, he was heartily ashamed of what he had done, and yet the mad anger in his heart caused by what Wilson had said kept him from regretting the blow he had struck. "He is right," said one of the men who had witnessed the affair. "He'll pay thee out for this, Paul. Ned Wilson is a chap that never forgives, never forgets." "If it comes to paying out," said Paul, "I've a bigger score than he has, and he'll always find me ready." "It serves him jolly well right," said the Honourable Stephen Boston. "I wonder Stepaside did not kill him! I know I would if anyone said such a thing to me! All the same, I am sorry it has taken place. Had I known Wilson was here I would not have asked Stepaside to join us." When Paul reached his home he found his mother sitting up for him. She met him with a look of joy in her eyes. "Paul," she said, "they've brought me the news." "What news, mother?" he asked. "The news of your victory, my son. It's glorious! I little thought when I saw you first that I should ever live to see such an hour as this. But what's the matter with you?" "What should be the matter?" he asked. "You're as pale as ashes, and you do not look like one who has won a great victory. What has happened?" "Oh, never mind," he replied. "But I must mind, Paul. Something has taken place that has upset you. Tell me what it is." Even yet Paul was scarcely master of himself. The words he had heard still rang in his ears and rankled in his heart. He felt as though all the joy of the day had been destroyed by what Wilson had said. He knew, too, that it would become public property by the morrow. There were those who witnessed the affair who would not be slow in making it known. Perhaps, too, it would come to his mother's ears in a garbled fashion, and would wound her more than if he told her himself. "Has the man Bolitho done anything?" she said. "Or is it your opponent? Was he terribly cut up because you beat him, Paul?" "No," he replied. "I've never heard of Bolitho, and as for Boston, he's a splendid fellow. He took his beating like a man and offered me his friendship afterwards." "Then what is it? Is the news I've heard, that Wilson is engaged to Miss Bolitho, true?" "Have you heard that?" "Yes; I have heard it only to-day." "I wish I had killed him!" he said, and his voice was hoarse and unnatural. "What do you mean, Paul? Tell me what has happened."