"I saw you talkin' to Rada just now," he said. "Been tryin' to comfort her, I suppose, because I thought it time to have my say? A nice sort of comforter you are!" There was a vicious sneer upon his lips. "Look here," he went on, taking a menacing step forward and dropping the tone of sarcasm which he had not the wit to maintain, "what do you mean by it?" "Please explain yourself." Mostyn spoke very quietly; on such occasions he never lost his temper, and always held himself under complete control. His calmness galled his adversary. "You know jolly well what I mean. You're always hanging about Rada, and ever since you've been here you've tried to make mischief between us. Well, I'm not going to have it; I tell you that straight." The young man's words were liberally intersected with oaths. "You're labouring under a delusion," Mostyn said; then he too advanced a step, as if to indicate that he had had enough of Jack's company. But the latter, already goaded into a passion by Rada, appeared anxious to vent some of it upon Mostyn. He was not lacking in pluck, so much can be said for him, for he was in truth the smaller and sparer man of the two. Mostyn, with his splendid physique, might well have warned him to think twice before he ventured, as he actually did, to break out with a string of invectives and foul words. He had quite a remarkable vocabulary at his disposition. Even then Mostyn did not lose his temper, recognising that Jack Treves was in a rage and not responsible for what he said. "You're a silly fellow, Treves," he remarked with perfect composure, "and a foul-mouthed one at that. Just stand out of my way, please, and let me pass. I've some business to talk over with your father." As he spoke he raised his arm to thrust Jack aside. But this was too much for the latter; the idea that he should be treated with this calm disdain, his protest simply ignored, and he himself pushed aside as if he were of no account whatever, all this caused him completely to lose control of himself.. He threw himself blindly upon Mostyn and struck out wildly, not as he would have done in calmer moments, for, as a matter of fact, lie rather fancied himself upon his pugilistic powers. The next moment the natural result came about. Mostyn, forced to it against his will, retaliated with a well-directed blow, and Jack Treves measured his length upon the ground. The fight, if fight it could be called, was very soon at an end, for Jack showed no further inclination to renew the combat. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, Treves," Mostyn remarked, as his late adversary sat up and dabbed a handkerchief to his damaged face. "But really, you know, if you have anything to say you should be a little more careful in the way you say it." With which Mostyn passed on. The matter was concluded as far as he was concerned.