"Get up and swear to me that you will never again lay a trap in that part of your land. Get a move on!" he snarled. "All right." The farmer shambled to his feet, watching him sullenly. "I swear." "Now go down on your knees and apologize for calling me a jail-bird. Hurry up, you filthy scum! On your knees, I said." And as young Parker went on his knees, according to order, the girl, her eyes shining like stars, clapped her hands softly together. "Quick!" said the Celebrated Actor, authoritatively. "Back to the house, you people. The play is over and my estimate of the receipts is, I think, correct." Stealthily as it had come, the procession moved back to the house. At intervals, the Eminent Divine was observed to jolt with his right, following it up with a slashing left upper-cut into space, what time he chuckled consumedly. And even a slight error as to distance, which caused him far more pain than the tree which he unfortunately smote, failed to damp his spirits. The Soldier walked with a spring in his step, the Actor hummed gently under his breath, and it was only as they reached the open window of the dining-room that they realized that the girl had slipped away in the darkness and was not with them. "Where is Beryl?" said the General, pausing on the path. "Heaven help the man!" fumed the Actor, addressing space. "His past career, we understand, is comparatively distinguished from a military point of view. But"—and he turned accusingly to the Soldier—"you must have driven every woman you ever met completely off her chump." "Chump," chuckled the Bishop, feinting with his right and gently upper-cutting the Celebrated Actor’s celebrated chin. "What is chump, you old sinner?" But the Well-known Soldier only smiled—a trifle sadly. "She’s all I’ve got, old chap, and her happiness is mine." "She is happy now," remarked the Actor, quietly. "The boy’s all right." For a while the three men were silent, each busy with his own thoughts. And then over the General’s face a grin began to spread. "Tell me, you charmer of foolish women," he demanded, "how did you manage it?" "Your vulgar gibe leaves me unmoved," returned the Actor, calmly. "To-night is merely a proof of how brains and imagination control every situation. I hope you both appreciate my inference." "Go on," chuckled the General. "The Church and the Army hide their diminished heads." "What better destroyer of apathy is there than scrapping with someone, whom in less civilized and more primitive days one would have killed? I followed him. I suggested it to him—I even went so far as to assist him in his search for a suitable spot on which to do it. And then"—he paused magnificently—"I drew the badger. I bolted the fox. I extracted young Parker." "How?" murmured the Church.