"Hold your tongue. If that is so, what right have you to go after that girl? She's a nice girl and a decent girl, and a lady, which I am not. All the same, you shan't spoil her life." Saltars raised his eyebrows. "I have no intention of spoiling her life. She's my cousin, if you remember----" "Oh, I know. But you're just the sort of man to make love to her, and break her heart. And as you're engaged to marry me, I shan't have it. So you look out, Mr. Herbert Delham, or Lord Saltars, or whatever you call yourself." "I wouldn't get in a rage over nothing, if I were you," said Saltars coolly, "and I shouldn't drink more of that wine either. It only excites you. Try this," he tossed her a cigarette, "it may calm your nerves." "My nerves are my own to do what I like with. And if you had my nerves you might talk. It isn't a nervous woman who can ride and control a savage stallion like White Robin." "That horse will kill you some day," said Saltars; "he's got the temper of a fiend." "So have I when roused, so don't you make me angry." "You're not very good-tempered now. Try the cigarette." "I'll smoke if you hand me one properly and light it for me. I do not take things thrown to me as if I were a dog." Lord Saltars rose and produced another cigarette--the one he threw was lying on the table. He offered this to Miss Lorry with a bow, and then gravely lighted a match. In another minute the smoke was curling from her full lips, and she calmed down. Saltars returned to his seat and lighted a new roll of tobacco with the stump of his old cigarette. "How did you know I went to Shanton to-night?" "Cain told me. Yes, and he told me about Miss Strode being Mrs. Palmer's companion. He went to-day to see his mother, with whom Miss Strode lived. She--the mother, I mean--knew that you were going to Mrs. Palmer's to-night, as Mrs. Palmer told her." "I wonder Mrs. Palmer took the trouble," said Saltars coolly. "My movements seem to interest her, and this Mrs. Merry and Cain. I'll break that young man's head if he spies on me." "You'll have to reckon with Signor Antonio if you do, and, as he's the Strong Man of our show, you'll get the worst of it." "Great strength doesn't usually mean science. And I think I can put up my flippers with any man." "You're a brute," said Miss Lorry, with an admiring glance at Saltars' sullen strength, which was what attracted her; "no one would take you to be a nobleman." "As to Signor Antonio," went on Saltars, taking no notice of the compliment, "he's not an Italian in spite of his dark looks and broken English. He's a half-bred gipsy mumper, and a blackguard at that. You seem to know him pretty well, Miss Lorry. I can't say I admire your choice of acquaintances." "I know you," she retorted, "so you're the last person to talk. As to Antonio, he's been with the show for years, and I'm always friendly with fellow artistes. He's a brute, as you are: but he daren't show his teeth to me."