Mr. Slewer, seated on the edge of a settee, twisting his hat awkwardly by the brim and staring at a gilt clock on the mantelpiece, shifted something he had in his mouth from one cheek to the other, and said huskily and laconically— "Naw." "This gentleman"—Sir Harry waved his hand like a showman indicating his prize exhibit—"has been most disgracefully treated by—er—the Duke." Alicia regarded Mr. Slewer with renewed interest and an unaccountable feeling of irritation. "The Duke in fact," the magnate went on impressively, "fled from America to avoid the—er—just retribution that awaited him. Fled in a most cowardly fashion, eh, Mr. Slewer?" "Yep," said the other, fingering his long yellow moustache. "Mr. Slewer came to Denver knowing this—er—duke has property or," corrected Sir Harry carefully, "thinks he has property there, and found him gone. As I have large interests in the mining industry in that city, it was only natural that Mr. Slewer should be directed to me as being likely to know the whereabouts of—this chartered libertine." There was a grain of truth in this story, for the astute lawyer, who was Sir Harry’s agent in Denver city, had most excellent reason for wishing to know the Duke’s present address. The coming of Big Bill Slewer, ripe for murder and with the hatred he had accumulated during his five years’ imprisonment, played splendidly into his hands. The girl had risen at Sir Harry’s last words, and stood with a perplexed frown facing her uncle. "Chartered libertine?" She was used to Sir Harry’s hackneyed figures of speech and usually attached no importance to them. "What has he done to this man?" Sir Harry glanced at Mr. Slewer and that worthy gentleman shifted awkwardly. He did not immediately reply, then— "This Jukey," he said, "went an’ run away wid me wife." She took a step backward. "Ran away with your wife?" she repeated. "Sure," said Mr. Slewer. "You see?" said Sir Harry enjoying the sensation. The girl nodded slowly. "I see," she replied simply. "I’m going to fix up Mr. Slewer for the night," said Sir Harry, "and to-morrow I will confront him with his victim." Young Mr. Tanneur, an interested and silent listener, had an inspiration, "I say, governor," he blurted, "I’ve got a ripping idea!" His father smiled. "Trust you, Hal," he said admiringly. "There’s a soirée or concert to-morrow night," said the ingenious Hal, "this fellow is going to sing, why not wait till then? I can get you a couple of seats in the first row—it would be awful fun to see his face when he spots Mr. Slewer." "Oh no!" protested the girl. "Why not?" demanded Sir Harry? "I think it is an excellent idea." "But——" "Please don’t interfere, Alicia," said the knight testily, "we are doing all this for your sake: there will be no fuss. As soon as the man sees this poor fellow he will skip and there will be no bother or disturbance—isn’t that so, Mr. Slewer?"