“Frankly, I cannot believe it!” she cried, flushing deeply. “I am sure—I am almost certain—that Captain Haverley would not submit to such an indignity from _any_ man!” “It _is_ an indignity, is it not?” he said, confidentially. “Oh! I _cannot_ believe it! And it is _known_?” “That is the singular part of the thing! I have never been able to understand why Haverley did not remain abroad. It was my scamp, Donohue, who perpetrated the outrage!” “Your _man_! Your man tarred and feathered Captain Haverley?” “He did, the rogue! I would have discharged the fellow, but he is the only man in England who knows how to pack dress trousers in a suit-case!” Lady Rundel was watching O’Hagan. When he really gets into his stride, my friend’s mendacity is fascinating. He becomes supernormally fluent; his truthless discourse holds one enthralled. “The car is ready,” she said slowly. “I should like to hear this unsavoury story from the man Donohue himself!” It was designed for a home thrust, but O’Hagan rose delightedly. “Dear Lady Rundel,” he said. “By all means You honour me.” ————— VI. DONOHUE AGAIN. Some delay occurred at the door of O’Hagan’s chambers. “Donohue cannot have gone out,” said he. “How careless of me to have forgotten my key!” He rang impatiently. Once—twice—thrice. Then the door was opened some three inches and Donohue’s face peered through the aperture. “Excuse me, sir,” said that treasure, ignoring O’Hagan’s icy stare; “but would you, sir—I don’t ask a favour often—would you come back in half an hour, sir?” Captain O’Hagan thrust the door open, and swept Donohue against the wall. “What do you mean?” he demanded fiercely. “Consider yourself discharged, Donohue! What . . .” An uproarious banging and shouting drowned further speech. Lady Rundel clearly was afraid to enter. Donohue shrank away before the fierce glare which sought him through the pebble. “_Donahue!_”—portentously. “Sir!” “What is that unseemly disturbance proceeding from the store-room?” Donohue, with great hesitancy: “I’m sorry, sir! You can discharge me if you like—excuse me, sir, you _have_! But he came here calling you such dirty names, sir, and—excuse me, m’lady—said things about her ladyship!——” “Donohue!” interrupted O’Hagan, in a voice of freezing calm—“unlock the store-room door!” “Sir——” “Donohue! unlock the store-room door! Then pack your box.” Donohue, with a sort of badly veiled truculence—(“I have always distrusted that man!” whispered Lady Rundel)—walked to and unlocked the door indicated. Whereupon Lady Rundel uttered a stifled shriek. For out into view leapt a nightmare apparition—a man who had sky-blue hair and only half a moustache! Furthermore, that surviving half was grass-green! “Come out, you piebald spalpeen!” cried Donohue, throwing restraint to the winds—“come out and show what I’ve done to you!”