“I wish she'd be quick. I don't know what to do with the fellow. Does n't shoot, can't play billiards worth a cent, and does n't seem to know anybody. It's like talking to a chap that does n't understand your language. I've just been at it. Happened to say I'd like to go to Rome again. He fetches a sigh and says so should he. 'Some of the best wild-duck shooting in the world,' I said. He stared at me for a moment as if I were an escaped lunatic. Now, what on earth should a reasonable being go to that beastly place for except to shoot wild-duck on the marshes?” Norma laughed the little mocking laugh that always irritated her father. “You need n't be afraid of not entertaining Mr. Padgate. He must have enjoyed the conversation hugely.” “Damme--if the fellow is laughing at me--” he began. “He would not be the very fine gentleman that he is,” said Norma. “Where is he now?” “Morland relieved guard in the billiard-room, when the post came in,” growled Mr. Hardacre, who shrank from crossing swords with his daughter, and indeed with anybody. “He is happy enough with Morland.” At that particular moment, however, there was not overmuch happiness in the billiard-room. A letter from Aline had been accompanied by one for “David Rendell, Esquire” which she had enclosed. Morland read it, and crushed it angrily into the pocket of his dinner-jacket, and began to knock the balls about in an aimless way. Jimmie watched him anxiously and, as he did not speak, unfolded his own letter from Aline. Suddenly he rose from the divan where he had been sitting and approached the table. “There is something here that you ought to know, Morland. A man has been enquiring for you at my house.” “Well, why should n't he?” asked Morland, making a savage shot. “He enquired for David Rendell.” Morland threw down his cue. “Well?” “I am afraid Aline, who is a miracle of sagacity as a general rule, has made a mess of it. You mustn't be angry with my poor little girl. Her head is full of sweeter things.” “What has she done?” Morland asked impatiently. “I'll read: 'I told him that Mr. Rendell was a friend of yours, and gave him your present address. He muttered something about a false name and went away without thanking me.'” “Good God!” cried Morland, “what damned fools women are! Did she say what kind of a man he was?” Jimmie looked through the letter, and finding the passage, read: “'An odd-looking creature, like a mad Methodist parson!'” Morland uttered an exclamation of anger and apprehension. His brow grew black, and his florid comely features coarsened into ugliness. “I thought so. It could n't have been any one else. He was the only person who knew. She has given me away nicely. The devil only knows what will happen.” Jimmie leant up against the table and folded his arms, and looked at Morland moving restlessly to and fro and giving vent to his anger. “Who is this man you seem to be so afraid of?” he asked quietly.