He choked a little with the rage that was consuming him. “Why, confound your impudence!” he cried, his face flaming with anger. “I owe you an apology, sir,” said Jarvis, with stately composure. “I ought not to have spoken as I did. But there is much at stake.” “Not for you,” said David insolently. He fell to staring at Jarvis, striving to imitate the other’s disconcerting look. “She loves me, you know.” He had not intended to taunt his rival, but the words slipped out without volition. He was glad of it, in view of the blighting change that swept over the other’s face. “Yes,” Jarvis said dully, “I know that.” He was realizing all at once that the blow that felled Whitcomb must reach her tender breast also. “There’s no use of beating about the bush,” David went on. “She told me about your visit to her the other night. At first I didn’t catch on about that remarkable client of yours and the care of the interesting child and all that. But when I got out of her the fact that you had been courting her while I was away, of course I was on to your little game.” He paused to allow his words their full weight, exulting in the look of quiet despair that appeared to have settled upon Jarvis’s face. “You thought if you couldn’t catch and hold her one way you would another. You planned to keep her from me! Deny it if you dare!” Jarvis looked up, opened his lips as if minded to reply; then his head drooped, and again he sighed deeply. He was striving to master himself; that self which even now struggled like a leashed hound under his iron hand. “I must be fair,” he groaned half aloud. “I must—I must, for her sake.” “What’s that?” inquired David smartly. “We may as well have it out first as last, you know.” “Yes,” agreed Jarvis, rousing himself. “I didn’t mean to—yet. But——” He looked calmly at David. “Can we not talk this over in a reasonable way?” he asked. “There is really no need of anger or——” “Oh, come, man; let’s get down to business!” cried David, vastly pleased with himself and his own acumen. He had not been at all certain as to the money, which he was now convinced Jarvis had given Barbara out of his own pocket. That he had surprised, compelled, browbeaten Jarvis, in what he was pleased to call “the fellow’s own game,” was a matter for pride, exultation. Who was Jarvis, anyway, that a whole countryside should stand in awe of him and his achievements? He, Whitcomb, had met the man and conquered him on his own ground. He even began to feel a sort of complacent pity for his abased rival, as his spirits rose from the depths of the humiliation falsely put upon him by Jarvis. “‘You can fool some of the people all of the time,’ you know,” he quoted, with a confident laugh; “and you did succeed in fooling Barbara nicely; but the minute I heard you were in love with her, of course I——” “One thing first,” interrupted Jarvis; “did she tell you—what had passed between us of her own free will?” David burst into a laugh.