We have to inform you that the court has upheld the Duke of Montvillier’s title to the ownership of the Silver Streak Mine, and we are instructed that an appeal to the Supreme Court of the United States would in the light of recent happenings be unadvisable. The Duke who unexpectedly arrived at New York on board the _Kron Prinz Olaf_, is returning to Europe immediately. Awaiting your favour, We are, etc. He read the letter again and was extremely vexed. In contrast to his own cloudy visage, the face of Mr. Hal Tanneur who burst in upon him was radiant. "We’ve got it, governor," he chuckled and waved a paper. "Saw old Middleton——" "What, what, what?" snapped his parent. "64—all that desirable property," quoted the young man. "Old Middleton was a bit shy of parting. Said the Duke promised to be a useful tenant. I offered £800, wouldn’t take it, offered £900, wouldn’t look at it, got it for £1,050." "Good boy," commended his father, and grew more cheerful. "At any rate," he said, "we can clear this bounder out of the neighbourhood: what about Alicia?" Hal frowned terribly. "I’ve done my best to show her what a silly step she’s taking. Had a little talk with her——" "Tact—I hope you used tact. Tact is everything in business," warned Sir Harry. "Rather!" said the other complacently, "I think I know a little about handling women. I got her on her tenderest side. I pointed out people would say she was marrying for a title, showed her how these mixed marriages never turned out well. As I said, ’My dear Alicia, you know nothing absolutely about this chap except what he tells you himself, the chances are that he’s married already.’" "That was right," approved his father. "I said, ’You don’t even know that he’s a Duke—his name’s in De Gotha, I grant you, but how do you know he’s the man?’" "What did she say?" demanded Sir Harry. Hal shrugged his shoulders despairingly. "She talked—like a woman," he said, with the air of one given to the coining of epigrams. "In so many words told me to mind my own business—in fact, governor, told me to go to the devil." "Good heavens!" said the scandalized knight. "Well," modified his son, "she didn’t exactly say so, but that was the impression she gave me." Sir Harry clicked his lips impatiently. "This is gratitude!" he said bitterly. "After what I’ve done——" He paused to recollect his acts of beneficence, failed to recall any remarkable feat of generosity on his part, coughed, frowned, and repeated with increased bitterness—"Gratitude, bah!" He relapsed into gloomy silence, then reached out his hand for the document Hal had flourished. "But this shall end," he said with splendid calmness; "we will bundle out this dam—confounded American Duke and his cowboy friend, bag and baggage. Smith shall serve him with a notice—has he paid his rent?" "No," shouted Hal gleefully, "it was due the day he left for America and the Yankee person has overlooked it apparently." Sir Harry nodded.