“'Sdeath!” swore the duke. “'Tis a man of taste--a travelled gentleman by his air. Behold me the grace of that shoulder-knot, Charles, and the set of that most admirable coat. Fifty guineas wouldn't buy his Steinkirk. Who is this beau?” “I'll present him to your grace,” said Rotherby shortly. He had pretentions at being a beau himself; but his grace--supreme arbiter in such matters--had never yet remarked it. They moved across the room, greetings passing as they went. At their approach, Mr. Caryll looked up. Rotherby made him a leg with an excessive show of deference, arguing irony. “'Tis an unlooked-for pleasure to meet you here, sir,” said he in a tone that drew the attention of all present. “No pleasures are so sweet as the unexpected,” answered Mr. Caryll, with casual amiability, and since he perceived at once the errand upon which Lord Rotherby was come to him, he went half-way to meet him. “Has your lordship been contracting any marriages of late?” he inquired. The viscount smiled icily. “You have quick wits, sir,” said he, “which is as it should be in one who lives by them.” “Let your lordship be thankful that such is not your own case,” returned Mr. Caryll, with imperturbable good humor, and sent a titter round the room. “A hit! A shrewd hit, 'pon honor!” cried Wharton, tapping his snuff-box. “I vow to Gad, Ye're undone, Charles. Ye'd better play at repartee with Gascoigne, there. Ye're more of a weight.” “Your grace,” cried Rotherby, suppressing at great cost his passion, “'tis not to be borne that a fellow of this condition should sit among men of quality.” And with that he swung round and addressed the company in general. “Gentlemen, do you know who this fellow is? He has the effrontery to take my name, and call himself Caryll.” Mr. Caryll looked a moment at his brother in the silence that followed. Then, as in a flash, he saw his chance of vindicating Mistress Winthrop, and he seized it. “And do you know, gentlemen, who this fellow is?” he inquired, with an air of sly amusement. “He is--Nay, you shall judge for yourselves. You shall hear the story of how we met; it is the story of his abduction of a lady whose name need not be mentioned; the story of his dastardly attempt to cozen her into a mock-marriage.” “Mock--mock-marriage?” cried the duke and a dozen others with him, some in surprise, but most in an unbelief that was already faintly tinged with horror--which argued ill for my Lord Rotherby when the story should be told. “You damned rogue--” began his lordship, and would have flung himself upon Caryll, but that Collis and Stapleton, and Wharton himself, put forth hands to stay him by main force. Others, too, had risen. But Mr. Caryll sat quietly in his chair, idly fingering the cards before him, and smiling gently, between amusement and irony. He was much mistaken if he did not make Lord Rotherby bitterly regret the initiative he had taken in their quarrel.