————— V. REVELATIONS. “The worse a man’s reputation,” Bernard O’Hagan holds, “the more the women like him. In French comedy we find the jealous husband held up to ridicule—hence the superiority of the lover. Failing the sword, Ridicule, my boy, is the weapon to cut short the career of Gallantry.” Remembering this, let us accompany Captain O’Hagan to Lady Rundel’s. He was admitted. Following upon such an affair as that of the previous evening, it is more than doubtful if another had enjoyed the privilege of admission. But Bernard O’Hagan is unused to refusals. Lady Rundel received him with studied coldness. He bent low over her hand in his remote, courtly fashion. “I have an explanation to offer of my conduct of last night,” he explained blandly. “I am curious to hear it!” “That I do not doubt, Lady Rundel; for you must have perceived that I strongly disapproved of the man Haverley!” She was caressing a miniature dog, but at that she glanced up, flushing. “It is a pity,” she began—— “It is!” agreed O’Hagan, toying with his monocle. “It is indeed a thousand pities, for you are such a charmingly pretty woman!” “Captain O’Hagan! I fail to understand you!” But her eyes were less angry than her tones. “You presume too far, even for so old a friend, when you attempt to control my choice of acquaintances!” “Dear Lady Rundel”—he bent forward and patted her hand soothingly—“it annoyed me so deeply (you know how acutely sensitive I am) to hear people laughing!” “Laughing?” Lady Rundel met his eyes interrogatively. “I felt that the position was so very undignified. Sir Roger——” “Captain O’Hagan—are you insinuating that people are laughing at my husband That——” “At your husband! At Sir Roger!” O’Hagan stared amazedly through the pebble. “No one would dare to laugh at Sir Roger Rundel, believe me!” A far-away look came into Lady Rundel’s eyes at these words. O’Hagan was glad to see that look; glad for Sir Roger’s sake. He knew, then, that his curious duty was almost accomplished—that Captain Haverley was merely a passing amusement. Lady Rundel rose slowly from her chair. O’Hagan observed her slim figure with smiling, aesthetic appreciation. She walked across to a small table, glancing at some trifle which it bore—and turned, leaning back upon the table-edge. “What do you mean, then?” she asked. “At whom are they laughing?” O’Hagan shrugged his shoulders with feigned embarrassment. “A man who has been tarred and feathered,” he began—— “Tarred and feathered!” Her eyes were opened widely. “Captain O’Hagan! Whatever do you mean?” “—Casts ridicule upon any woman who consents to be seen in his company!” “Captain O’Hagan, be so good as to explain yourself!” O’Hagan raised his monocle. “What! you did not know—about Haverley?”