"A telegram has just come for you," he said, and watched the younger man's face as he read. It was a long screed, and evidently bored its recipient. "Oh, it's only from my sister," came the languid explanation. "By the way, where's Miss Garth?" "Gone, I think." "Gone!" Whittaker rose on an elbow and glowered at Armathwaite. "What the devil do you mean by 'gone'? Where has she gone to?" he cried. "I want you to answer that question," and Armathwaite's voice was strangely harsh and threatening. "She came to you half an hour ago. Did you say anything likely to distress her? Tell me the truth, or I'll pound your face to a jelly." His aspect had suddenly become so menacing that Whittaker wilted; his head sank back to the pillow, and his eyelids twitched with fright. "That's no way to talk----" he began, but the other seized him by the shoulder with his left hand and clenched his right fist suggestively. "You think I ought not to threaten you with violence because you are lying there helpless," was the savage interruption; "but, if you have not forgotten the ways of Ind, you must know that a poisonous snake is never so venomous as when disabled. Speak, now, and speak truthfully, or, as sure as God is in heaven, I'll strike!" There was no withstanding the set purpose revealed by those blazing eyes, and Whittaker was so alarmed that he dared not attempt to lie. "I--I've asked Meg--half a dozen times--to marry me," he stuttered, "and this morning--I told her--she'd have to consent--now." "Why now?" and the fierce grip tightened, drawing the livid face nearer. "Because--she must." "Explain yourself, you dog!" "I--I was afraid of your influence, so I warned her--that if--she wanted to save her father.... Ah! Let go! Curse you, let go! You're breaking my bones!" That eldritch scream restored Armathwaite's senses. It startled the men in the garden. It brought Mrs. Jackson and Betty running from the kitchen. Happily, Armathwaite struck no blow. He flung off Whittaker's limp body as though he were, indeed, one of the vicious reptiles to which he had compared him. "You _sug_!" he breathed, using the bitterest term of contempt known to the East, for the Persian word means all that the Anglo-Saxon implies when he likens a fellow-creature to a dog, with the added force of an epithet which signifies "dog" in that despicable sense, and in none other.