“You are a blackguard! I have little doubt that a public brawl would be to your low taste. But I prefer to call upon you to-morrow. I shall bring a horse-whip!” Unable further to trust himself to face the icy stare which met him, he turned, and almost ran from the now empty lobby. Captain O’Hagan swung streetward, in turn. A taxi-cab had at that moment pulled up to the kerb; and Haverley was fumbling with shaking fingers for a coin for the theatre attendant, ere entering it. O’Hagan calmly opened the door, stepped in, and reclosed it. Leaning from the window: “Junior Guards Club!” he said. “Half a sovereign if you do it in four minutes!” Gold is a talisman, my masters. The taxi-driver risked consequences—and started. (“You see,” goes O’Hagan’s explanation of this episode, “the cab was the last in the rank, and I had an appointment. Haverley may have had one also. But pedigree before pork, Raymond.”) ————— IV. DONOHUE’S ORDERS. The morning was young, and O’Hagan discussing rolls and coffee when Donohue announced Captain Haverley and Mr. Salter. O’Hagan rose ceremoniously. He wore a slate-grey lounge suit, with a silver-grey plush French knot in lieu of a tie. This combination suits him admirably and affords Donohue great scope for discrimination in the selecting of a soft shirt to harmonise with the scheme. Entered Haverley, accompanied by a tall and preternaturally thin gentleman who carried, a leather case. O’Hagan bowed coldly to the captain, and upon his companion turned the monocle. “This,” he said frigidly, sweeping his hand toward Mr. Salter, “I assume to be your horse-whip?” “Mr. Salter is my solicitor!” replied Haverley loudly. “I have decided that a public exposure is what you require! We have therefore——” (O’Hagan pressed a bell.) “—I say we have therefore called formally to advise you——” (Donohue entered.) “—That a police-court summons for drunken assault and——” O’Hagan, waving monocle Salterward: “Donohue, kindly see this person to the door.” Mr. Salter, who was opening his brief-case looked up alarmedly. “My solicitor,” shouted Haverley, who was rapidly losing control of himself, “is——” “Donohue!” Donohue bowed to Mr. Salter and held wide the door. Salter: “Captain O’Hagan, as legal adviser——” “_Donohue!_” Donohue stepped forward and took up Mr. Salter’s case. Within his right arm he linked the left of Mr. Salter, and with the gentle firmness of a Milo of Crotona led him rapidly from the room. Came a quavering cry: “You will pay dearly for this insult!” Haverley, eyes aflame, bounded to the door. It was locked. He turned to where O’Hagan, lolling against the mantelpiece, studied the morning’s manœuvres through upraised glass. “I do not,” explained O’Hagan icily, “allow solicitors in these chambers.”