Captain Staple, who had listened with great enjoyment to these engaging reminiscences, said: “From anything I’ve ever heard of him, that sounds very like my grandfather, sir. Didn’t they call him Mops-and-Brooms?”

“Mops-and-Brooms!” echoed Sir Peter. “That was it! So you’re his grandson!”

It was plain that his relationship to this erratic peer did Captain Staple no disservice in the eyes of his host. Sir Peter, saying regretfully that there were few men of his stamp alive today, lapsed into a silence charged with memory, and sat staring into the fire until Winkfield came into the room to remove the tea-tray. John, who had been watching him, exchanged a glance with Nell, nodded in response to the message in her eyes, and rose to his feet.

The movement seemed to bring Sir Peter back with a jerk to the present. He raised his head from his breast, and said authoritatively: “Time you were off to your bed, Nell! Captain Staple will excuse you.”

“I think it is time I too was off, sir,” John said.

“Nonsense! Sit down! Don’t humbug me you go to bed at this hour!”

“May I not come to see you again tomorrow?” John suggested.

“You might not find me, young man,” Sir Peter said, with a grim smile. “I don’t know how much time I have left to me, and I can’t afford to waste it. Set out the brandy, Winkfield, and then take yourself off! I’ll ring when I want you.”

“I shall be in the dressing-room, sir,” said Winkfield.

He appeared to address his master, but his eyes were on John’s face. John nodded, and he bowed very slightly.

“You may kiss me good-night, Nell, and then be off to Rose. You will not go downstairs: do you hear me, girl?”

She bent over him, and kissed his brow. “Very plainly, dearest! Indeed, I do not mean to go downstairs. Pray do not keep Captain Staple too long from his gate!”

He waved her away impatiently. She crossed the room to the door, which John was holding open, and paused, holding out her hand. “Good-night—Captain Staple!”

He carried her hand to his lips. “Good-night—Miss Stornaway!” he returned, smiling down at her.

She went out, and he closed the door behind her, and turned to see Sir Peter’s quizzing-glass raised again.

“H’m! Pour yourself out some brandy!”

“Later, perhaps, sir, if I may.”

“Well-primed, eh? Think if you drink it, I shall—and damn the doctor!”

“No, I’ve not been primed. Am I to pour some for you, sir?”

“No. There’s some damned cordial or other: Winkfield will bring it, if I ring—or even if I don’t. Sit down! Now then, young man! We’ll have the gloves off, if you please! I was never one to stand on ceremony, and there’s too little time left—perhaps not even enough for what I must do. But, by God, I’ll make a push to see it out! What do they say of the Squire in the village? Queer as Dick’s hatband, eh?”

“They speak of you with affection, sir.”

“Don’t you bamboozle me! I know ’em! I’m baked, but not backed yet, and not queer in my attic, I assure you! Did you think I sent for you out of an idle curiosity? I didn’t.”

“I think you sent for me to see what kind of a man it might be who had fallen in love with your granddaughter,” said John.

“Here’s a high flight! In three days?” said Sir Peter, on a jeering note.

“No, in three seconds.”

“Do you fall out of love as easily as you fall into it?” demanded Sir Peter.

“I can’t tell that, sir, for I never did it before,” John replied, laughter in his eyes.

“Good God, boy, are you telling me you were never in love before?”

“Oh, no! I have thought myself in love, but I never before met a woman whom I knew to be the one above all others I wanted to call my wife.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine, sir.”

“Well, you ought to know your own mind—and you look as though you did, in all conscience!”

“I do.”

“Then you had better know that she has not a penny to her name!” said Sir Peter harshly.

“I am not a wealthy man, sir, but my father left me in the possession of a small estate. I believe I can convince you that I am sufficiently beforehand with the world to be able to support a wife.”

“When I die, Captain Staple, I shall leave behind me my name, my title, and my estates. My estates are encumbered; my title will embellish the snirp who is my grandson. A skirter like his father before him, and a damned loose-screw! I shall be dead before he drags my name through whatever mire he’s wading in, but he’ll do it, as sure as check! I would remind you that it is also Nell’s name!”

“I hope the case may not be as desperate as you fear,” John said. “I am not acquainted with your grandson, but I have seen him, and I should judge him to be a weakling rather than a villain. May I say that one loose-screw can’t disgrace an honoured name?” He smiled, and added: “By all accounts my grandfather was one, but we think our name a good one, in spite of him!”

“Your grandfather! Ay, he was a rake and a gamester, but it was play or pay with him, and he rode straight at his fences! There was no bad blood in him, but in Henry there is more bad than good!” He lifted his hand, and let it fall again, in an impotent gesture. “I knew that years ago, when I pulled him out of that first, damnable scrape——But Jermyn was alive then. It never occurred to me that Jermyn would be killed, or that I should become the helpless wreck I am—so helpless that I can neither protect my granddaughter from the gallantry of the vulgar rogue my heir has introduced into my house, nor fling the pair of them out of it!”

“Don’t distress yourself, sir!” John said. “With or without your leave I shall take care of Nell; and as for your grandson and his bacon-fed crony, you have only to say the word, and I shall be happy to throw them out of the house for you! Now, if you choose!”

Sir Peter shook his head. He looked up at John under his brows, a smile twisting his lips. “No. No. Better not. There’s something afoot. That rogue has Henry under his thumb, and Henry’s afraid. While I live he has no right here, but when I die the place will be his—and I might die tomorrow.”

“I hope not, sir, but I’m at one with you in thinking that we shall do better to keep these gentry where we can watch what they are about. I don’t fear for Nell. She at least is no weakling, and she has very faithful guardians in Rose and Joseph.”

“She’s safe while I live,” Sir Peter said. His hand worked on the arm of his chair. “I did my best!” he said suddenly, as though in answer to a challenge. “Sent her up to her aunt for a season! A damned, insipid woman—nothing but pride and consequence, but she goes to all the ton parties! Sulky as a bear she was—but not too stiff-necked to pocket a handsome fee for her services! She had the infernal impudence to tell me my girl was a hoyden! Ha! Nell has too much force of mind for my lady’s taste! I could have dowered her then, but she didn’t take! No! And none of the town fribbles took her fancy! It was left for a libertine and a coxcomb—a Captain Sharp, if ever I saw one!—to tell me that he would be pleased to marry her! By God, if I could have my strength back for one minute——!”

John interposed, his eyes watchful on Sir Peter’s face, but his deep voice very calm. “Do I indeed seem to you to be a libertine and a coxcomb, sir? But I’ll swear I’m not a Captain Sharp!”

The fierce old eyes stared across at him. “Not you, fool! Coate!”

“What, does he offer marriage? There must be better stuff in the fellow than I guessed. But why tease yourself, sir? To be sure, it is an impertinence, but persons of low breeding, you know, have such encroaching ways! I wish you will leave me to deal with Coate, and tell me I have your permission to marry Nell!”

There was the glimmer of a smile in Sir Peter’s eyes. He said: “Does my permission count for so much with you?”

“No,” replied John frankly. “But with her it might! I should prefer, I must own, to address myself to her with your consent, but I won’t deceive you, sir!—With or without your consent I mean to marry your granddaughter!”

The smile was growing. “Joe told me you were a fellow after my own heart, and for once in his life the rascal was right! I wish you well: you may be crazy, but you’re not a damned adventurer!” His hand relaxed on the chair-arm: his head sunk on to his breast again, but he lifted it, with an effort, when John rose to his feet, and said sharply: “Don’t go! Something else I have to say to you!”

“I’m not going, sir.” John waited until the head drooped again, and then walked quietly to the door which led into the dressing-room.

Winkfield was dozing in a high-backed chair by the table, but he got up quickly, an anxious question in his face.

“I think your master would be the better for his cordial,” John said. “He is tired, but he will not permit me to leave him until he has told me something that seems to be on his mind. I think it will be best to let him have his way. Give me the cordial! I’ll see he drinks it.”

The valet nodded, and turned to measure it into a wineglass. “If you could set his mind at rest, sir——!”

“I can at least try to do so. Tell me this! Does that hang-gallows fellow below-stairs force himself upon Miss Nell’s notice?”

“Once, sir—but I happened to be at hand. Since then, no. Not yet.”

John nodded, taking the glass from him. “Send me word if he should become troublesome!” he said, and went back into the bedchamber.

Sir Peter’s eyes were closed, but he opened them as John came across the room, and said irritably: “I wasn’t asleep! What’s this?”

“Your cordial, sir.”

“I don’t want the stuff!”