"To you!" cried Nestley, vehemently, "yes, a practised man of the world like you has his nerves and passions well under control. I was young, inexperienced, enthusiastic, you were cool, calculating and cynical. You drank three times as much as I ever did, but the effect on our natures was different You were looked upon as a sober man, I--God help me!--as a drunkard!" The artist smiled sarcastically. "Well," he said, coolly, "all this was five years ago--why are you so disagreeable now?" "I cannot forget how you tried to ruin me." "Humph!" observed Beaumont, walking to the door, "there's nothing like putting our sins on other people's shoulders; it saves such a lot of unnecessary trouble. However, I don't wish to argue any longer. You reject my friendship, so I've nothing more to say. I daresay you'll be gone by the time I rise in the morning, so, as we're not likely to meet one another again in this life, I'll say good-bye." He opened the door just as Nestley was about to answer him, when suddenly there was a noise--the voices of men laughing uproariously, then the sharp bark of a dog, and in another moment a large black cat, with her fur all on end, darted into the room, followed by an eager fox-terrier in a state of great excitement. CHAPTER III. VILLAGE GOSSIP. It's very odd the pride we take In finding out our neighbours' lives, Tho' idle words a heart may break, It's very odd the pride we take In saying this one is a rake, And that one's luck thro' evil thrives It's very odd the pride we take In finding out our neighbour's lives. Snarling and spitting, with blazing eyes and bushy tail, the cat flew round the room rapidly, did a steeplechase over several chairs, and finally took refuge on the mantelpiece, where she stood with arched back, spitting freely, while the fox-terrier, yelping sharply, tried, unsuccessfully, to leap up. "What a beast of a dog," said Beaumont, tranquilly; "it's Muffins, of course." "Rather," cried a laughing voice at the door, "did you ever know Muffins when he wasn't worrying a cat or killing a rat or doing something disreputable?" The owner of the voice was a tall young fellow of twenty years of age, with curly fair hair, a fresh complexion and merry blue eyes. He was positively bubbling over with good nature and excitement, and appeared the embodiment of robust health and animal spirits. Suddenly he caught sight of Nestley, who stood near the fireplace looking on at the scene with an amused smile. "Awfully sorry about my dog, sir," he said, taking off his cap with a gay laugh and striding across the room to where Muffins was performing leaps worthy of an acrobat, "but he believes his mission in life is to kill cats, so at present----" "He is performing his mission with great zeal," finished Nestley with a smile. "By the way," interposed Beaumont, raising his voice, "I'd better introduce you two men, Mr. Richard Pemberton--Dr. Duncan Nestley."