"Oh, look here----!" began Heyton; but at the moment the butler advanced with a telegram. Heyton took it and looked at it, and his manner changed instantly. He stared at the telegram; his face growing pale, his teeth closing hard on the cigarette. "What is it, Percy?" asked Miriam, as Celia passed into the library. "Eh?" he said, with a start, as if waking up. "Oh, nothing! Yes, it is; it's dam bad news, I can tell you." "Money again!" she said, with an impatient shrug of her shoulders. "Yes, money; and a lot of it," he retorted. "Look here, Miriam, I'm in a hole, and a precious deep one this time. Hush! Here's the old man!" He broke off warningly, as the Marquess came into the hall. He looked weary and careworn, and his shoulders drooped in the way that had become habitual with him of late; and he frowned slightly as he glanced at the cigarette between his son's lips; for he disliked its penetrating aroma as much as did Celia. Dinner was announced and they went in; they talked in the desultory fashion which was customary with them, and the Marquess, apparently lost in thought, did not notice Heyton's pallor and the furtive glance which every now and then he directed towards his father. As usual, Heyton did not refuse the butler's offer of wine, and, after awhile, a hectic flush rose to his cheek, and he began to talk with a strained and unnatural gaiety. Miriam, who had been watching him, presently stretched out her hand towards his glass with a significant frown; but her husband glared at her and, reaching for the decanter, helped himself. Suddenly, apropos of nothing, Heyton, addressing the Marquess, said: "Have you noticed that pendant Miriam's wearing?" The Marquess raised his eyes and smiled at her. "Very pretty, my dear!" he observed. "A present from Percy," she said, fingering it. "I'm glad you like it." "A wedding present," said Heyton, with a sneer. "Not much of a present; but it was the best I could afford. She's pretty enough to deserve a complete fit-out of diamonds, don't you think so?" The Marquess looked up again, half curiously, as if he wondered whether there were any object in Heyton's remark; his lips moved as if he were about to speak; but he closed them again and his eyes went back to his plate. Miriam rose and went to the drawing-room, and almost immediately afterwards, the Marquess left the table, saying, as he passed Heyton, "That port is rather heavy, Percy; don't drink too much of it." The weak and vicious face grew red and, with a sneer, Heyton retorted, "Oh, if you begrudge me a glass of wine----" But he spoke under his breath, and the Marquess apparently did not hear him.