“Well, my boy, we mustn’t quarrel, we’ve been too dear old pals for that.” He laughed with the disconcerting hilarity of a drunken man. “Lord, what fine games we’ve had in our day, Howard, haven’t we? Do you remember that glorious day we followed up old Billy Stiles----?” Again Stormont’s voice rang out, and there was a note of almost agony in it. “Stop, Newcombe, for Heaven’s sake stop. You forget there is a woman present.” The appeal seemed momentarily to sober the wretched man. He turned his bleary eyes in the direction of Gloria. “Sorry, miss, I’m sure; I forgot you were here. No offence meant, Howard, my dear old pal. I haven’t said anything; you’ve noticed that.” It was time to end the disgusting scene. Stormont turned to the young man. “Very sorry, but you’d better take Gloria away. I’ll deal with this drunken creature and get him to bed.” As he spoke, he turned a very malevolent glance on the huddled-up Newcombe, who had closed his eyes after his last speech, and appeared to be falling asleep. There was positive hatred in that glance, Lydon felt assured. And yet a few hours ago he had spoken of the man as a splendid fellow, as one of the very best. The young man doubted if there was much love lost on either side, in spite of Newcombe’s reference to his friend as a dear old pal. The lovers went into the drawing-room. Gloria still looked pale, and not a little indignant. “What a perfect brute!” she cried. “Why has uncle put up with him for five minutes? You could see the sort he was at the first glance, a rough savage. Why did he not give him some money, and make him go?” Almost before he was aware of it, the words slipped out of her sweetheart’s mouth, words that voiced his inmost thoughts. “Depend upon it, dear, Mr. Stormont has some good reasons for not wishing to offend this uncouth fellow.” The girl looked up with a startled glance, one which had fear in it as well as surprise. “Leonard, what is in your mind? Do you suggest”--her voice faltered for a second--“that he knows anything to Uncle Howard’s discredit?” Lydon felt he had gone a bit too far at the present juncture. He shrugged his shoulders and spoke in indifferent tones. “I don’t suppose young men who go out to Australia and mix with a rough crowd lead very saintly lives. I daresay Newcombe is acquainted with a few episodes that would be better suppressed in your uncle’s family circle. Don’t worry, darling.” “But I can’t help it,” replied the ever-frank Gloria. “The whole thing is so mysterious, and somehow uncle’s explanation seemed to me lame and halting. Did it strike you in the same way?” Leonard hesitated for a moment. It would be easy to say that he had accepted that statement in perfect good faith, in short, to tell an absolute lie. But he thought it better on the whole that Gloria should be allowed to nurse her suspicions. The blow would fall lighter on her when it had to come. He told her, therefore, that the same impression had been made on him.