watson robert - my brave and gallant gentleman

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Gentleman, by Robert Watson

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Title: My Brave and Gallant Gentleman

A Romance of British Columbia

Author: Robert Watson

Release Date: March 21, 2010 [EBoo

#31728]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOO

MY BRAVE AND GALLANT GENTLEMAN ***


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Produced by Al Haines

MY BRAVE and

GALLANT


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GENTLEMAN


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A Romance of British

Columbia

BY

ROBERT WATSON

McCLELLAND, GOODCHILD &

STEWART


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PUBLISHERS :: :: :: :: TORONTO

Copyright, 1918,

By George H. Doran Company

Printed in the United States of America

TO A LADY CALLED NAN


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CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I THE SECOND SON

II ANOTHERSECOND SON

IIIJIM THEBLACKSMITH

IVVISCOUNTHARRY, CAPTAINOF THE GUARDS

VTOMMY FLYNN,THE HARLFORDBRUISER

VI

ABOARD THE


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COASTERVII

K. B. HORSFAL,MILLIONAIRE

VIIIGOLDENCRESCENT

IXTHE BOOZEARTIST

X RITA OF THESPANISH SONG

XIAN INFORMATIVEVISITOR

XIIJOE CLARK,BULLY

XIII

A VISIT, A

DISCOVERY ANDA KISS

XIVTHE COMING OFMARY GRANT


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XV "MUSIC HATHCHARMS"

XVITHE DEVIL OFTHE SEA

XVII GOOD MEDICINE

XVIIIA MAID, A MOODAND A SONG

XIXTHE "GREEN-EYED MONSTER"AWAKES

XX FISHING!XXI

THEBEACHCOMBERS

XXII

JAKE STOPS THE

DRINK FOR GOOD

XXIIITHE FIGHT IN THEWOODS

XXIV TWO MAIDS AND


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A MANXXV THE GHOUL

XXVI"HER KNIGHT

PROVED TRUE"


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MY BRAVE AND

GALLANT

GENTLEMAN

CHAPTER I

The Second Son

Lady Rosemary Granton! Strange howpleasant memories arise, howdisagreeable nightmares loom up beforhe mental vision at the sound of a name!


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Lady Rosemary Granton! As far back acould remember, that name had sounded

familiar in my ears. As I grew fro

babyhood to boyhood, from boyhood tyouth, it was drummed into me by mfather that Lady Rosemary Granton, somday, would wed the future Earl o

Brammerton and Hazelmere. Thiapparently awful calamity did not causme any mental agony or loss of sleep, fohe reason that I was merely Th

Honourable George, second son of mnoble parent.

I was rather happy that morning, as I san an easy chair by the library window

perusing a work by my favourite author,after a glorious twenty-mile gallop alon

he hedgerows and across country. I wa


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rather happy, I say, as I pondered over thehought that something in the way of a jus

retribution was at last about to be mete

out to my elder, haughty, arrogant andextremely aristocratic rake of a brotherHarry.

My mind flashed back again to thsource of my vagrant thoughts. LadRosemary Granton! To lose the guidinghand of her mother in her infancy; to spen

her childhood in the luxurious lap of NewYork's pampered three hundred; to live siyears more among the ranchers, thcowboys and, no doubt, the cattle thieveof Wyoming, in the care of an old friend oher father, to wit, Colonel Sol Dorry; theno be transferred for refining and genera

educational purposes for another spell o


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six years to the strict discipline of French Convent; to flit from city to cityfrom country to country, for three year

with her father, in the stress of diplomatiservicewhat a life! what an upbringinfor the future Countess of BrammertonFinally, by way of culmination, to lose he

father and to be introduced into Londosociety, with a fortune that made the rouof every capital in Europe gasp and ordea complete new wardrobe!

As I thought what the finish might be, hrew up my hands, for it was a mosnteresting and puzzling speculation.

Lady Rosemary Granton! Who had noheard the stories of her conquests and hedaring? They were the talk of the club


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and the gossip of the drawing-roomsMasculine London was in ecstasies ovehem and voted Lady Rosemary a trump

The ladies were scandalised, as onlealous minded ladies can be at lavishl

endowed and favoured members of theiown sex.

Personally, I preferred to sit on thfence. Being a lover of the open air, of thagile body, the strong arm and the quic

eye, I could not but admire some of thiextraordinary young lady's exploits. Butthe woman who was conceded the facof an angel, the form of a Venus de Milowho was reported to have dressed as ockey and ridden a horse to victory in th

Grand National Steeplechase; who, for

wager, had flicked a coin from the finger


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of a cavalry officer with a revolver awenty paces; lassooed a cigar fro

between the teeth of the Duke of Kasl

and argued on the Budget with a CabineMinister, all in one week; who could prawith the piety of a fasting monk; weep awill and look bewitching in the process

faint to order with the grace, the elegancand all the stage effect of an earlVictorian Duchess: the woman who wastyled a golden-haired goddess by thoson whom she smiled and dubbed a saucyred-haired minx by those whom shspurned;was too, too much of

conglomeration for such a humdrundividual, such an ordinary, countryoving fellow as I,George Brammerton

And now, poor old Hazelmere wa


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undergoing a process of renovation sucas it had not experienced since thoccasion of a Royal visit some twent

years before: not a room in the houswhere one could feel perfectly safe, savhe library: washing, scrubbing, polishin

and oiling in anticipation of a rousin

week-end House Party in honour of thiwonderful, chameleon-like, LadRosemary's first visit; when heengagement with Harry would be formallannounced to the inquisitive, fashionablworld of which she was a spoiled child.

Why all this fuss over a matter whicconcerned only two individuals, I coulnot understand. Had I been going to marrhe Lady Rosemary,which, Heave

forbid,I should have whipped he


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quietly away to some little, countrparsonage, to the registrar of a smalcountry town; or to some villag

blacksmith, and so got the business overout of hand. But, of course, I had neithehe inclination, nor the intention, let alonhe opportunity, of putting to the test what

should do in regard to marrying her, nowere my tastes in any way akin to those omy most elegant, elder brother, ViscounHarry, Captain of the Guards,egad,for which two blessings I was indeed trulhankful.

As I was thus ruminating, the librardoor opened and my noble sire came inspick and span as he always was, anhappier looking than usual.


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"'Morning, George," he greeted.

"Good morning, dad."

He rubbed his hands together.

"Gad, youngster! (I was twenty-four

everything is going like clockwork. Thhouse is all in order; supplies on hand tstock an hotel; all London falling ovetself in its eagerness to get here. Harr

will arrive this afternoon and LadRosemary to-morrow."

I raised my eyebrows, nodde

disinterestedly and started in again to mreading. Father walked the carpeexcitedly, then he stopped and lookeddown at me.


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"You don't seem particularly enthusiastiover it, George. Nothing ever doenterest you but boxing bouts, wrestlin

matches, golf and books. Why don't yobrace up and get into the swim? Why donyou take the place that belongs to yoamong the young fellows of your ow

station?"

"God forbid!" I answered fervently.

"Not jealous of Harry, are you? Nosmitten at the very sound of the lady'name,like the young bloods, and the olones, too, in the city?"

"God forbid!" I replied again.

"Hang it all, can't you say anything mor


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han that?" he asked testily.

"Oh, yes! dad,lots," I answered

closing my book and keeping my finger ahe place. "For one thingI have neve

met this Lady Rosemary Granton; neveeven seen her pictureand, to tell you th

ruth, from what I have heard of her, I havno immediate desire to make the lady'acquaintance."

There was silence for a moment, anfrom my father's heavy breathing I coulgather that his temper was ruffling.

"Look here, you young barbarian, yorevolutionary,what do you mean? Whamakes you talk in that way of one of thbest and sweetest young ladies in th


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country? I won't have it from you, sir, thiLady Rosemary Granton, this Ladndeed."

"Oh! you know quite well, dad, what mean," I continued, a little bored. "Harrs no angel, and I doubt not but Lad

Rosemary is by far too good for him. Buyou know,you cannot fail to havheard the stories that are flying over thcountry of her cantrips;some of them

well, not exactly pleasant. And, allowinfifty percent for exaggeration, there is stila lot that would be none the worse oconsiderable discounting to headvantage."

"Tuts, tush and nonsense! Foolish talmost of it! The kind of stuff that is garble


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and gossiped about every popular womanThe girl is up-to-date, modern, none oyour drawing-room dolls. I admit that sh

has go in her, vim, animal spirits, youthfuexuberance and all that. She may lovsport and athletics, but, but,youyourself, spend most of your time i

pursuit of these same amusements. Whnot she?"

"Why! father, these are the points

admire in her,the only ones, I may sayBut, oh! what's the good of going over iall? I know, you know,everybodyknows;her flirtations, her affairs; everrake in London tries to boast of hiacquaintance with her and bandies hename over his brandy and soda, an

winks."


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"Look here, George," put in my fatheangrily, "you forget yourself. These storieare lies, every one of them! Lad

Rosemary is the daughter of my dearestmy dead friend. Very soon, she will beyour sister."

"Yes! I know,so let us not say anymore about it. It is Harry and she for itand, if they are pleased and an old whiof yours satisfied,what matters it to a

ordinary, easy-going, pipe-loving, coldblooded fellow like me?"

"Whim, did you say? Whim?" cried m

father, flaring up and clenching his handexcitedly. "Do you call the vow of Brammerton a whim? The pledged worof a Granton a whim? Whim, be damned."


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For want of words to express himselfmy father dropped into a chair andrummed his agitated fingers on the arm

of it.

I rose and went over to him, laying mhand lightly on his shoulder.

Poor old dad! I had not meant to hurt hifeelings. After all, he was the dearest oold-fashioned fellows and I loved hi

haughty, mid-Victorian ways.

"There, there, father,I did not mean tosay anything that would give offence.

ake it all back. I am sorry,indeed I am.

He looked up at me and his facbrightened once more.


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"'Gad, boy,I'm glad to hear you say itknow you did not mean anything by you

bruskness. You are an impetuous

headstrong young devil though,with ouch of your mother in you,and, 'gad, idon't like you the more for it.

"But, but," he went on, looking in fronof him, "you must remember that althougGranton and I were mere boys at the timour vow was made,he was a Granto

and I a Brammerton, whose vows armade to keep. It seems like yesterdayGeorge; it was a few hours after he savemy life in the fighting before SevastopoWe were sitting by the camp-fire. Thechain-shot was still flying around. Thcries of the wounded were in our ears

The sentries were challenging continuall


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and drums were rolling in the distance.

"I clasped Fred's hand and I thanked hi

for what he had done for me that day, righn the teeth of the Russian guns.

"'Freddy, old chap, you're a trump,'

said, 'and, if ever I be blessed with an heio Brammerton and Hazelmere, I woul

wish nothing better than that he shoulmarry a Granton.'

"'And nothing would please me so muchHarry, old boy,as that a maid oGranton should wed a Brammerton,' h

answered earnestly.

"'Then it's a go,' said I, full oenthusiasm.


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"'It's a go, Harry.'

"And we raised our winecups, such a

hey were.

"'Your daughter, Fred!'

"'Your heir, Harry!'

"'The future Earl and Countess oBrammerton and Hazelmere,' we chime

ogether.

"Our winecups clinked and the bond wamade;made for all time, George."

My father's eyes lit up and he seemed tbe back in the Crimea. He shook his heasadly.


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"And now, poor old Fred is gone. Ahwell! our dream is coming true. In month, the maid of Granton weds th

future Earl of Brammerton.

"'Gad, George, my boy,Rosemary mabe skittish and lively, but were she th

most mercurial woman in Christendomshe has never forgotten that she is first oall a Granton, and, as a Granton, she hakept a Granton's pledge."

For a moment I caught the contagion omy father's earnestness. My eyes felt damas I thought how important, after all, thi

union was to him. But, even then, I coulnot resist a little more questioning.

"Does Harry love her, dad?"


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"Love her!" He smiled. "Why! my boyhe's madly in love with her."

"Then, why doesn't he mend a bit? givover his mad chasing after,to put imildly,continual excitement; anddemonstrate that he is thoroughly i

earnest. You know, falling madly in loves a habit of Harry's."

"Don't you worry your serious hea

about that, George. You talk of Harry as ihe were a baby. You talk as if you werehis grandfather, instead of his youngebrother and a mere boy."

"Does Lady Rosemary love Harry?" asked, ignoring his admonition.


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"Of course, she loves him. Whshouldn't she? He's a good fellow; welbred and well made; he is a soldier; he i

n the swim; he has plenty to spend; he ihe heir to Brammerton;why shouldn

she love him? She is going to marry himsn't she? She may not be of the gushin

ype, George, but she'll come to it all igood time. She will grow to love him, aevery good wife does her husband. Sodon't let that foolish head of yours givyou any more trouble."

I turned to leave.

"George!"

"Yes, dad!"


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of house parties, I shall be on hand."

"Good! I knew you would, my boy,

replied my father quietly. "Where awanow, lad?"

"Oh! down to the village to tell Jim an

Tom not to count on me for their week-endaunt."

CHAPTER IIAnother Second Son

I strolled down the avenue, between th


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all trees and on to the broad, sun-bakeroadway leading to the sleepy littlvillage of Brammerton, which lay s

snugly down in the hollow. Swinging mystout stick and whistling as I went, I felt apeace with the good old world. My heawas clear, my arm was strong; rich, fres

blood was dancing in my veins; I wayoung, single, free;so what cared I?

As I walked along, I saw ahead of me

hin line of blue-grey smoke curling ufrom the roadside. As I drew nearer, made out the back of a ragged maneaning over a fire. His voice, lusty an

clear as a bell, was ringing out a strangmelody. I went over to him.

I was looking over his shoulder, yet h


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seemed not to have heard me, so intenwas he on his song and in his work.

He was toasting the carcass of poached rabbit, the wet skin of which laat his side. He was a dirty, ragged rascalbut he seemed happy and his voice wa

good. The sentiment of his song was noaltogether out of harmony with my owfeelings.

"A carter swore he'd love alwaysA skirt, some rouge, a pair of stays

After his vow, for days and days,He thought himself the smarter."

The singer bit a piece of flesh from theg of his rabbit, to test its tenderness, the

he resumed his toasting and his song.


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"But, underneath the stays and paintHe found the usual male complaint

A woman's tongue, with Satan's taint;

A squalling, brawling tartar.

"She scratches, bites and blacks hieye.

His head hangs low; he heaves sigh;He longs for single days, gone by.

He's doomed to die a martyr."

The peculiar fellow stopped, opened red-coloured handkerchief, took out hunk of bread and set it down by his sid

with slow deliberation. It was quite twminutes ere he started off again.

"Now, friends, beware, take m


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advice;When eating sugar, think of spice;

Before you marry, ponder twice:

Remember Ned the carter."

From the words, it seemed to me that hhad finished the song, but, judging fro

he tune, it was never-ending.

"A fine song, my good fellow," remarked from behind.

The rascal did not turn round.

"Oh!it's no' so bad. It's got the endurin

quality o' carrying a moral," he answered

"You seem to be clear in the conscienceyourself," said I.


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"It'll be clearer when I get outside o' thirabbit," he returned, still not deigning took at me.

"But you did not seem to be startlewhen I spoke to you," I remarked isurprise.

"What way should I? I never saw thman yet that I was feart o'. Forby,I kenyou were there."

"But, how could you know? I did nomake a noise or display my presence iany way."

"No!but the wind was blawin' frohe back, ye see; and when ye came u

behind the smoke curled up a bit furthe


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and straighter than it did before; then therwas just the ghost o' a shadow."

I laughed. "You are an observancustomer."

"Oh, ay! I'm a' that. Come round and le

me see ye."

I obeyed, and he seemed satisfied withis inspection.

"Sit doon,oot o' the smoke," he said.

I did so.

"You are Scotch?" I ventured.

"Ay! From Perth, awa'.


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"A Scotch tinker?"

"Just that; a tinker from Perth, and m

name's Robertson. I'm a Struan, ye kenThe Struans,the real Struans,are ainkers or pipers. In oor family, my elde

brother fell heir to my father's pipes, so

had just to take to the tinkering. But we'roint heirs to my father's fondness for

dram. Ye havena a wee drop on ye?"

"Not a drop," I remarked.

"That's a disappointment. I was kind ofeart ye wouldna, when I asked ye."

"How so?"

"Oh! ye don't look like a man that waste

your substance. More like a seller o


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Bibles, or maybe a horse doctor."

I laughed at the queer comparison, an

he looked out at me from under his shaggyred eyebrows.

"Have a bite o' breakfast wi' me. I lik

o crack to somebody when I'm eatin'. Ihelps the digestion."

"No, thank you," I said. "I hav

breakfasted already."

"It's good meat, man. The rabbit's fresh. can guarantee it, for it was runnin' half a

hour ago. Try a leg."

I refused, but, as he seemed crestfallen, ook the drumstick in my hand and ate th

meat slowly from it; and never did rabbi


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aste so good.

"What makes ye smile?" asked m

attered companion. "Do ye no' like thaste o' it?"

"Oh! the rabbit is all right," I said, "but

was just thinking that had it lived itchildren might have belonged to a brotheof mine some day."

"How's that? Is he a keeper? Od sake!he went on, scratching his head, as iseemed to dawn on him, "ye don't happeo belong to the big hoose up there?"

"I live there," said I.

He leaned over to me quickly. "Hav

another leg, man,have it;dod! it's you


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ain, anyway."

"I haven't finished the first yet. Go ahea

yourself."

He ate slowly, eying me now and agaihrough the smoke.

"So you're a second son, eh?" hpondered. "Man, ye have my sympathy. had the same ill-luck. That's how m

brother Angus got the pipes and I'm inker. Although, I wouldna mind being the

second son o' a Laird or a Duke."

"Well, my friend," said I; "that's juswhere our opinions differ. Now, I'dsooner be the second son of a rag-andbone man; aPerthshire piper of the nam


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of Robertson; ay! of the devil himself,han the second son of an Earl."

"Do ye tell me that now!" he put in, wita cock of his towsled head, picking upanother piece of rabbit.

"You see,you and these other fellowcan do as you like; go where you likwhen you like. An Earl's second son hao serve his House. He has to pave th

way and make things smooth for the soand heir. He is supposed to work thimelight that shines on his elder brother

He is tolerated, sometimes spoiled an

petted, because,well, because he has aelder brother who, some day, will be aEarl; but he counts for little or nothing ihe world's affairs.


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"Be thankful, sir, you are only the seconson of a highland piper."

The tramp reflected for a while.

"Ay, ay!" he philosophised at last, "nodoot,maybe,just that. I can see yo

have your ain troubles and I'm thinkinmaybe, I'm just as weel the way I am. But's a queer thing; we aye think the othe

man is gettin' the best o' what's goin'. It'

he way o' the world."

He was quiet a while. He negotiated thrabbit's head and I watched him wit

nterest as he extracted every bit of meafrom the maze of bone.

"And you would be the Earl when you


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father dies, if it wasna for your brother?he added.

"Yes!" I answered.

"Man, it must be a dreadful temptation."

"What must be?"

"Och! to keep from puttin' something ihis whisky; to keep from flinging hi

ower the window or droppin' a flower poon his heid, maybe. If my ain father habeen an Earl, Angus Robertson wouldnever have lived to blow the pipes. As i

was, it was touch and go wi' Angus;fohey were the bonny pipes,the grand

bonny pipes."

"Do you mean to tell me, you woul


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have murdered your brother for a skirlingscreeching bagpipes?" I asked in horror.

"Och! hardly that, man. Murder is no' bonny name for it. I would just kind oquietly have done awa' wi' him. It's mayba pity my conscience was so keen, for he'

no' much good, is Angus; he's a throughother customer: no' steady and law-abidinike mysel'."

"Well, my friend," I said finally

"Donald! that's my name."

"Well, Donald, I must be on my way."

"What's a' the hurry, man?"

"Business."


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"Oh! weel; give me your hand on iYou've a fine face. The face o' a man thatf he had a dram on him, he would give m

a drop o' it."

"That I would, Donald."

"It's a pity. But ye don't happen to havhe price o' the dram on ye?"

"Maybe I have, Donald."

I handed him a sixpence.

"Thank ye. I'm never wrong in th

readin' o' face character."

As I made to go from him, he started ofagain.


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"You don't happen to be a married manwi' a wife and bairns?" he asked.

"No, Donald. Thank goodness! Whamade you ask that?"

"Oh! I thought maybe you were and tha

was the way you liked the words o' my bisong."

I left the tinker finishing his belate

breakfast and hurried down the roaoward the village.

The sun was getting high in the heavens

birds were singing and the spring workerwere busy in the fields. I took the sidrack down the rough pathway leading t

Modley Farm.


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My good friend, big, brawny, bluff TomTanner,who was standing under theporch,hailed me from a distance, wit

his usual merry shout.

"Where away, George? Feeling fit foour trip?" he asked as I got up to him.

"I am sorry, old boy, but, so far as I amconcerned, the trip is off. I just hurriedown to tell you and Jim.

"You see, Tom, there is going to be aHouse Party up there this week-end anmy dad's mighty anxious to have me a

home; so much so, that I would offend hif I went off. Being merely Georg

Brammerton, I must bow to the paternacommands, although I would rather,


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hundred times, be at the games."

Tom's face fell, and I could see he wa

disappointed. I knew how much henjoyed those week-end excursions oours.

"The fact is," I explained, "there is goino be a marriage up there pretty soon, and

naturally, I am wanted to meet the lady."

"Great Scott! George,you are norying to break it gently to me? You are no

going to get married, are you?" he asked iconsternation.

I laughed loudly. "Lord, no! Not for kingdom. It is my big brother Harry."

Tom seemed relieved. He even sighed.


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"I'm glad to hear you say it, George, fohere's a lot of fine athletic meeting

coming on during the next three or fou

months and it would be a pity to miss thefor, for, Oh! hang it all! you knowwhat I mean. You're such a queer, seriousdetermined sort of customer, that it's hard

o say what you will do next."

He looked so solemn over the matter thalaughed again.

His kind-hearted old mother, who hadbeen at work in the kitchen and haoverheard our conversation, came to th

doorway and placed her arms lovinglaround our broad shoulders.

"Lots of time yet to think about gettin


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married. And, let me whisper somethinnto your ears. It's an old woman's advice

and it's good:when you do think o

marrying, be sure you get a wife with pleasant face and a good figure; a wifhat other wives' men will turn round an

admire; for, you know, you can neve

foretell what kind of temper a woman hauntil you have lived with her. A maid ialways on her best behaviour before heover. And, just think what it would meanf you married a plain, shapeless lass an

she proved to have a temper like ermagant! Now, a handsome lass, even i

she has a temper, is alwaysa handsomass and something to rouse envy of you iother men. And, after all, we measure andreasure what we have in proportion a

other people long for it. So, whatever yo


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do, young men, make sure she ihandsome!"

"Good, sensible advice, Mrs. Tannerand I mean to take it," said I. "But I woulbe even more exacting. In addition tbeing sweet tempered and fair of face an

form, she must have curly, golden hair andgolden brown eyes to match."

"And freckles?" put in Mrs. Tanner with

a wry face.

"No! freckles are barred," I added.

"But, golden hair and brown eyes armighty rare to find in one person," saiTom innocently.

"Of course they are; and the combinatio


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such as I require is so extremely rare thamy quest will be a long one. I am likelherefore to enjoy my bachelorhood fo

many days to come."

"Good-bye, Mrs. Tanner. Good-byeTom; I am going down to the smithy to see

Jim."

I strolled away from my happycontented friends, on to the main roa

again and down the hill to the villageittle dreaming how long it would be ere

should have an opportunity of talking withem again.


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CHAPTER III

Jim the Blacksmith

The village of Brammerton seemed onlhalf awake. A rumbling cart was slowly

wending its way up the hill, three or fouold men were standing yarning at the incorner; now and again, a busy housewifwould appear at her door and take

glimpse of what little was going on andisappear inside just as quickly as she hashown herself. The sound of the droninvoices of children conning their lesson

came through the open window of the olschoolhouse.

These were the only signs and sounds o


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ife that forenoon in Brammerton. Stay!here was yet another. Breaking in on th

general quiet of the place, I could hea

distinctly the regular thud of hard steel osoft, followed by the clear double-ring oa small hammer on a mellow-toned anvil.

One man, at any rate, was hard at workJim Darrol,big, honest, serious gianhat he was.

Light of heart and buoyant in body, urned down toward the smithy. I lookedn through the grimy, broken window and

admired the brawny giant he looked ther

n the glare of the furnace, with his broaback to me, his huge arms bared to thshoulders. Little wonder, thought I, JiDarrol can whirl the hammer and put th


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shot farther than any man in the NortherCounties.

How the muscles bulged, and wriggledand crawled under his dark, hairy skinWhat a picture of manliness he portrayedAnd, best of all,I knew his heart was a

good and clean as his body was sound.

I tiptoed cautiously inside and slappehim between the shoulders. He wheele

about quickly. He always was a solemnooking owl, but this morning his face wa

clouded and grim. As he recognised me, errible anger seemed to blaze up in hi

black eyes. I could see the muscles tighten his arms and his fingers close firml

over the shaft of the hammer he held. could see a new-born, but fierce hatre


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burning in every inch of his enormouframe.

"Hello, Jim, old man! Who has beerubbing you the wrong way?" I cried.

His jaws set. He raised his left hand an

pointed with his finger to the opedoorway.

"Get out!" he growled, in a deep, hoars

voice.

I stood dumbfounded for a brief momenhen I replied roughly and familiarly: "Oh

you go to the devil! Keep your anger fohose who have caused it."

"Get out, will you!" he cried again

aking a step nearer to me, his brow


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owered, his lips drawn to a thin line.

I had seen these danger signals in Ji

before, but never with any ill intenoward me. I was so astounded I coul

scarcely think aright. What could hmean? What was the matter?

"Jim, Jim," I soothed, "don't talk thaway to old friends."

"You're no friend of mine," he shouted"Will you get out of here?"

In some respects, I was like Jim Darrol

did not like to be ordered about.

"No! I will not get out," I snapped bacat him. "I mean to remain here until yo

grow sensible."


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I went over to his anvil, set my leacross it and looked straight at him.

He raised his hammer high, as if to strikme; and I felt then that if I had taken meyes from Jim's for the briefest flash oime, my last minute on earth would hav

arrived.

With an oath,the first I ever heard hiutter,he cast the hammer from him

sending it clattering into a corner amonhe old horse shoes.

"Damn you,I hate you and all you

cursed aristocratic breed," he snarledAnd, with the spring of a tiger, he had mby the throat, with those great, grabbinhands of his, his fingers closing cruelly o


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my windpipe as he tried to shake the lifout of me.

I had always been able to account foJim when it came to fisticuffs, but never aclose quarters. This time, his attack waviolent as it was unexpected. I did no

have the ghost of a chance. I staggereback against the furnace wall, still in hidevilish clutch. Not a gasp of air entereor left my body from the moment h

clutched me.

He shook me as a terrier does a rat.

Soon my strength began to go; my eyebulged; my head felt as if it were burstingdancing lights and awful darknesseflashed and loomed alternately before an


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around me. Then the lights became scarceand the darknesses longer and morntense. As the last glimmer o

consciousness was leaving me, wheblack gloom had won and there was nmore light, I felt a sudden release, painfuand almost unwelcome to the oblivion t

which I had been hurling. The lights camflashing back to me again and out of thwhirling chaos I began to grasp thangible once more. As I leaned againshe side of the furnace, pulling at my throa

where those terrible fingers had been,gasping,gasping,for glorious life

giving, life-sustaining air, I graduallbegan to see as through a haze. Beforong, I was almost myself again.

Jim was standing a few paces away, hi


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chest heaving, his shaggy head bent anhis great hands clenched against his thighs

I gazed at him, and as I gazed somethinwet glistened in his eyes, rolled down hicheeks and splashed on the back of hihand, where it dried up as if it had falle

on a red-hot plate.

I took an unsteady step toward him anheld out my hand.

"Jim," I murmured, "my poor old Jim!"

His head remained lowered.

"Strike me," he groaned huskily. "FoGod's sake strike me, for the coward am!"


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"I want your hand, Jim," I answered"Tell me what is wrong? What is all thiabout?"

At last he looked into my eyes. I coulsee a hundred conflicting emotionworking in his expressive face.

"You would be friends after what I havedone?" he asked.

"I want your hand, Jim," I said again.

In a moment, both his were clasped ovemine, in his vicelike grip.

"George,George!" he cried. "We'vealways been friends,chums. I havalways known you were not like the res

of them."


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He drew his forearm across his brow. "am not myself, George. You'll forgive mefor what I did, won't you?"

"Man, Jim,there is nothing done tharequires forgiving;only, you have thdevil's own grip. I don't suppose I shall b

able to swallow decently for a week.

"But you are in trouble: what is it, JimTell me; maybe I can help."

"Ay,it's trouble enough,God forbidt's Peggy, George,my dear little sister

Peggy, that has neither mother nor father to

guide her;only me, and I'm a blind fooOh!I can't speak about it. Come ovewith me and see for yourself."


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I followed him slowly and silently out ohe smithy, down the lane and across th

road to his little, rose-covered cottage

We went round to the back of the houseJim held up his hand for caution, as hpeeped in at the kitchen window. Hurned to me again, and beckoned, his bi

eyes blind with tears.

"Look in there," he gulped. "That's mittle sister, my little Peggy; she who neve

has had a sorrow since mother left usShe's been like that for four hours and shgets worse when I try to comfort her."

I peered in.

Peggy was sitting on the edge of a chaiand bending across the table. Her arm


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were spread out in front of her and heface was buried in them. Her brown, curlhair rippled over her neck and shoulder

ike a mountain stream. Great sobs seemeo be shaking her supple body. I listened

and my ears caught the sound of a breakinheart. There was a fearful agony in he

whole attitude.

I turned away without speaking anfollowed Jim back to the smithy. When w

got there, something pierced me like knife, although all was not quite clear tmy understanding.

"Jim,Jim," I cried, "surely you nevefancied II was in any way to blame fohis. Why! Jim,I don't even know ye

what it is all about."


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He laughed unpleasantly. "No, Georgeno!Oh! I can't tell you. Here"

He went to his coat which hung from hook in the wall. He pulled a letter frohis inside pocket. "Read that," he said.

I unfolded the paper, as he stoodwatching me keenly.

The note was in handwriting with whic

was well familiar.

"My DEAR LITTLE PEGGY,

I am very, very sorry,but surely youknow that what you ask is impossible.

shall try to find time to run out and see yo


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at the usual place, Friday night at nino'clock. Do not be afraid, little womaneverything will come out all right. You

know I shall see that you are well lookeafter; that you do not want for anything.

Burn this after you read it. Keep ou

secret, and bear up, like the good little giryou are. Yours affectionately,

H"

As I read, my blood chilled in my veins

was,there could be no mistaking it.

"My God! Jim," I cried, "this is terribleSurely,surely"


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"Yes! George," he said, in a tenselysubdued voice, "your brother did thatYour brother,with his glib tongue and

his masterful way. Oh!well I know thbreed. They are to be found in high anow places; they are generally not muc

for a man to look at, but they are the kin

no woman is safe beside; the kind that getheir soft side whether they be angels o

she-devils. Why couldn't he leave healone? Why couldn't he stay among hiown kind?

"And now, he has the gall to think thahis accursed money can smooth it overDamn and curse him for what he is."

I had little or nothing to say. My hearwas too full for words and a great ange


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was surging within me against my owflesh and blood.

"Jim,does this make any differencbetween you and me?" I asked, crossinover to him on the spongy floor of hooparings and steel filings. "Does it, Jim?"

He caught me by the shoulders, in hiold, rough way, and looked into my faceThen he smiled sadly and shook his head.

"No, George, no! You're different: youalways were different; you are the samstraight, honest George Brammerton to me

still the same."

"Then, Jim, you will let me try to dsomething here? You will promise me no


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o get into personal contact with Harry,at least until I have seen him and spokewith him. Not that he does not deserve

dog's hiding, but I should like to see hiand talk with him first."

"Why should I promise that?" he aske

sharply.

"For one thing,because, doubtlessHarry is home now. And again, there i

going to be a week-end House Party at ouplace. Harry's engagement of marriagwith Lady Rosemary Granton is to bannounced; and Lady Rosemary will b

here.

"It would only mean trouble for youJim;and, God knows, this is troubl


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enough."

"What do I care for trouble?" he crie

defiantly. "What trouble can make mmore unhappy than I now am?"

"You must avoid further trouble fo

Peggy's sake," I interposed. "Jim,let msee Harry first. Do what you likafterwards. Promise me, Jim."

He swallowed his anger.

"God!it will be a hard promise tkeep if ever I come across him. But I d

promise, just because I like you, Georgeas I hate him."

"May I keep this meantime?" I asked

holding up Harry's letter to Peggy.


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"No! Give it to me. I might need it."

"But I might find greater use for it, Jim

Won't you let me have it, for a time aeast?"

"Oh! all right, all right," he answered

spreading his hands over his leatheapron.

I left him there amid the roar of the fir

and the odour of sizzling hoofs, anwended my way slowly up the dust-ladehill, back home, having forgotten entirelyn the great sorrow that had fallen, to tel

Jim my object in calling on him that day.


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CHAPTER IV

Viscount Harry, Captain of the Guards

On nearing home, I noticed the "FlyinDandy," Harry's favourite horse, standinat the front entrance in charge of a groom.

"Hello, Wally," I shouted in response tohe groom's salute and broad grin. "I

Captain Harry home?"

"Yes, sir! Three hours agone, sir. 'E'ust agoing for a canter, sir, for the good

of 'is 'ealth."

I went inside.


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"Hi! William," I cried to the retreatinfigure of our portly and aristocratic butler"Where's Harry?"

"Captain Harry, sir, is in the armouryAny message, sir?"

"No! it is all right, William. I shall goalong in and see him."

I went down the corridor, to the mos

ancient part of Hazelmere House; the olarmoury, with its iron-studded oakedoors and its suggestion of spooks angoblins. I pushed in to that sombre-lookin

place, which held so many grim secrets ofeudal times. How many drinking orgieand all-night card parties had been helwithin its portals, I dared not endeavour t


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surmise. As to how many plots had beehatched behind its studded doors, howmany affairs of honour had been settle

for all time under its high-panelled roofthere was only a meagre record; buhose we knew of had been bloody and no

a few.

Figures, in suits of armour, stood ievery corner; two-edged swords, shieldof brass and cowhide, blunderbusses an

breech-loading pistols hung from thwalls, while the more modern rifles anfowling pieces were ranged in orderlfashion along the far side.

The light was none too good in thereand I failed, at first, to discover the objecof my quest.


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"How do, farmer Giles?" came thaslow, drawling, sarcastic voice which knew so well.

I turned suddenly, and,there he wasseated on a brass-studded oak chesalmost behind the heavy door, swingin

one leg and toying with a seventeentcentury rapier. Through his narrow-slittedeyes, he was examining me from top to ton apparent disgust: tall, thin, perfectl

groomed, handsome, cynical, devil-maycare.

I tried to speak calmly, but my anger wa

greater than I could properly control. Pooittle Peggy Darrol was uppermost in mhoughts.


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"'Gad, George,you look like a trampWhy don't you spruce up a bit? Hobnaileboots, home-spun breeches; ugh! it'

enough to make your noble ancestors turn their coffins and groan.

"Don't you know the Brammerton mott

s, 'Clean,within and without.'"

He bent the blade of his rapier until iformed a half hoop, then he let it fly bac

with a twang.

"And some of us have degenerated so," answered, "that we apply the motto only i

so far as it affects the outside."

"While some of us, of course, are sbusy scrubbing and polishing at ou


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nwards," he put in, "that we have no timo devote to the parts that are seen. Buhat seems to me deuced like cant; and

cheap variety of it at that.

"So you have taken to preaching, as welas farming. Fine combination, littl

brother! However, George,dear boy,we shall let it go at that. There isomething you are anxious to unload. Get out of your system, man."

"I have just been hearing that you argoing to marry Lady Rosemary Grantosoon."

"Why, yes! of course. You maycongratulate me, for I have thadistinguished honour," he drawled.


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"And you do consider it an honour?" asked, pushing my hands deep into mpockets and spreading my legs.

He leaned back and surveyed molerantly.

"'Gad!that's a beastly impertinenquestion, George. Why shouldn't it be ahonour, when every gentleman in Londowill be biting his finger-tips with envy?"

I nodded and went on.

"You consider also that she will be

honoured in marrying a Brammerton?"

"Look here," he answered, a littlrritated, "what's all this damne

catechising for?"


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"I am simply asking questions, Harryaking liberties seeing I am a Brammerto

and your little brother," I retorted calmly.

"And nasty questions they are, too;buby Jove! since you ask, and, as I am Brammerton, and it is I she is going t

marry,why! I consider she ishonouredThe honour will be,ah! on both sidesGeorge. Now,dear fellow,donworry about my feelings. If you hav

anything more to ask, why! shoot it overnow that I am in the mood for answering,he continued dryly. "I have a hide like rhino'."

I looked him over coldly.

"Yes, Harry,Lady Rosemary wil


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come to you as a Granton, fulfilling thpledge made by her father. She will como you with her honour bright an

unsullied."

He bent forward and frowned at me.

"Do you doubt it?" he shot across.

I shook my head. "No!"

He resumed his old position.

"Glad to hear you say so. Now,whaelse? Blest if this doesn't make me fee

quite a devil, to be lectured anquestioned by my young brother,mown, dear, little, preaching, farmer, kid oa brother."


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"You will go to her a Brammertonfulfilling the vow made by a Brammertonwith a Brammerton's honour, unstained

unblemished,'Clean,within anwithout'?"

He rose slowly from the chest and face

me squarely.

There was nothing of the coward iHarry.

His eye glistened with a cruel light"Have a care, little brother," he saidbetween his regular, white teeth. "Have

care."

"Why, Harry," I remonstrated in feignedsurprise, "what's the matter? What have


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said amiss?"

He had always played the big

patronising, bossing brother with me and had suffered it from him, although, from physical standpoint, the suffering of lathad been one of good-natured tolerance

To-day, there was something in mymanner that told him he had reached thend of it.

"Tell me what you mean?" he snarled.

"If you do not know what I mean, brothemine, sit down and I will tell you."

"No!" he answered.

"Oh, well!I'll tell you anyway."


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I went up close to him. "What are yogoing to do about Peggy Darrol?" demanded.

The shot hit hard; but he was almosequal to it. He sat down on the chest agaiand toyed once more with the point of th

rapier. Then, without looking up, hanswered:

"Peggy Darrol,eh, George! Pegg

Darrol, did you say? Who the devil ishe? Oh,ah,eh,oh, yes! thblacksmith's sister,um,nice littlwench, Peggy:attractive, fresh, clinging

strawberries and cream and all that sort ohing. Bit of a dreamer, though!"

"Who set her dreaming?" I asked


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pushing my anger back.

"Hanged if I know; born in her

suppose. It is part of every woman'make-up. Pretty little thing, though; bGad! she is."

"Yes! she is pretty; and she was good ashe is pretty until she got tangled up wityou."

Harry sprang up and menaced me.

"What do you mean, you,you?What are you driving at? What's you

game?"

"Oh! give over this rotten hypocrisy," shouted, pushing him back. "Hit you on th

raw, did it?"


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He drew himself up.

"No! it didn't. But I have had more tha

enough of your impertinences. I would boyour ears for the unlicked pup you are, if could do it without soiling my palms."

I smiled.

"Those days are gone, Harry,and yoknow it, too. Let us cut this evasion an

om-foolery. You have got that poor girnto a scrape. What are you going to d

about getting her out of it?"

"Ihave got her into trouble? How do yoknowIhave? Her word for it, I supposeA fine state of affairs it has come to, whenany girl who gets into trouble with he


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clod-hopper sweetheart, has simply taccuse some one in a higher station thashe, to have all her troubles ended."

He flicked some dust from his coatsleeve. "'Gad,we fellows would nevebe out of the soup."

"No! not her word," I retorted. "LittlPeggy Darrol is not that sort of girl anwell you know it. I have your own wor

for it,in writing."

His face underwent a change iexpression; his cheeks paled slightly.

I drew his letter from my pocket.

"Damn her for a little fool," he growled

He held out his hand for it.


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"Oh, no! Harry,I am keeping thimeantime." And I replaced it. "Tell menow,what are you going to do abou

Peggy?" I asked relentlessly.

"Oh!" he replied easily, "don't worry. shall have her properly looked after. Sh

needn't fear. Probably I shall make settlement on her; although the little idiohardly deserves that much after giving thshow away as she has done."

"Of course, you will tell Lady Rosemarof this before any announcement is madof your marriage, Harry? A Brammerton

must, in all things, be honourable, 'Cleanwithin and without.'"

He looked at me incredulously, and


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smiled almost in pity for me and mstrange ideas.

"Certainly not! What do you take me forWhat do you think Lady Rosemary is that should trouble her with these pettmatters?"

"Petty matters," I cried. "You call thipetty? God forgive you, Harry. Petty! andhat poor girl crying her heart out; he

whole innocent life blasted; her future disgrace! Petty!my God!;and you Brammerton!

"But I tell you," I blazed, "you shall leLady Rosemary know."

"And I tell you,I shall not," he replied


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"Then, by God!I'll do it myself," retorted. "I give you two hours to decidwhich of us it is to be."

I made toward the door. But Harrysprang for his rapier, picked it up andstood with his back against my exit, th

point of his weapon to my breast.

There was a wicked gleam in his narroweyes.

"Damn you! George Brammerton, for sneaking, prying, tale-bearing lout;yodare not do it!"

He took a step forward.

"Now, sir,I will trouble you for tha

etter."


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I looked at him in astonishment. Therwas a strange something in his eyes I hanever seen there before; a mad

rresponsible something that cared not foconsequences; a something that makeheroes of some men and murderers oothers. I stood motionless.

Slowly he pushed the point of his rapiehrough my coat-sleeve. It pricked into m

arm and I felt a few drops of warm bloo

rickle. I did not wince.

"Stop this infernal fooling," I crieangrily.

He bent forward, in the attitude of fencwith which he was so familiar.


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"Fooling, did you say? 'Gad! then, is thifooling?"

He turned the rapier against my breastripping my shirt and lancing my flesh the bone. I staggered back with a gasp.

It was the act of a madman; and I knewn that moment that I was face to face wit

death by violence for the second time in few hours. I slowly backed from him, bu

he followed me, step for step,

As I came up against and sought the walbehind me for support, my hand came i

contact with something hard. I closed mfingers over it. It was the handle of an olhighland broadsword and the feel of iwas not unpleasant. It lent a fresh flow t


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my blood. I tore the sword from itfastenings, and, in a second, I wastanding facing my brother on a mor

equal, on a more satisfactory footingdetermined to defend myself, blow foblow, against his inhuman, insane conduct

"Ho! ho!" he yelled. "A duel in thwentieth century. 'Gad! wouldn't this se

London by the ears? The CorsicaBrothers over again!

"Come on, with your battle-axe, farmeGiles, Let's see what stuff you're made oblood or sawdust."

Twice he thrust at me and twice I barelyavoided his dextrous onslaughts. I parrieas he thrust, not daring to venture a return


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Our strange weapons rang out and reechoed, time and again, in the dreastillness of the isolated armoury.

My left arm was smarting from the firswound I had received, and a few drops oblood trickled down over the back of m

hand, splashing on the floor.

"You bleed!just like a human beingGeorge. Who would have thought it?

gloated Harry with a taunt.

He came at me again.

My broadsword was heavy and, to meunwieldy, while Harry's rapier was lighand pliable. I could tell that there could bonly one ending, if the unequal contes


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were prolonged,I would be woundebadly, or killed outright. At that moment, had no very special desire for eithe

happening.

Harry turned and twisted his weapowith the clever wrist movement for whic

he was famous in every fencing club iBritain; and every time I wielded mheavy weapon to meet his light one hought I should never be in time to mee

his counter-stroke, his recovery was svery much quicker than mine.

He played with me thus for a time whic

seemed an eternity. My breath began tocome in great gasps. Suddenly he lungeat me with all his strength, throwing thfull weight of his body recklessly behin


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his stroke, so sure was he, evidently, that would find its mark. I sprang aside jusn time, bringing my broadsword down o

his rapier and sending six inches of thpoint of it clattering to the floor.

"Damn the thing!" he blustered, taking

firmer grip of what steel remained in hihand.

"Aren't you satisfied? Won't you stop

his madness?" I panted, my voicsounding loud and hollow in the stillnesaround us.

For answer he grazed my cheek with hiagged steel, letting a little more bloo

and hurting sufficiently to cause me twince.


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"Got you again, you see," he chuckledpushing up his sleeves and pulling his tistraight. "George, dear boy, I'll have yo

n mincemeat before I get at any of youwell-covered vitals."

A blind fury seized me. I drove in o

him. He turned me aside with a grin anhrust heavily at me in return. I darted the left, making no endeavour to pus

aside his weapon with my own but relyin

only on the agility of my body. With anoath, he floundered forward, and beforhe could recover I brought the flat of mheavy broadsword crashing down on thop of his head. His arm went up with

nervous jerk and his rapier flew from hihand, shattering against a high window

and sending the broken glass rattling on t


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he cement walk below.

Harry sagged to the floor like a sack o

flour and lay motionless on his face, hiarms and legs spread out like a spider's.

I was bending down to turn him over

when I heard my father's voice on thother side of the door.

"Stand back! I'll see to this," he cried

evidently addressing the frighteneservants.

I turned round. The door swung on it

mmense hinges and my father stood therewith staring eyes and pallid face, taking ihe situation deliberately, looking from mo Harry's inert body beside which I knelt


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Slowly he came into the centre of throom.

Full of anxiety, I looked at him. But therwas no opening in that stern, old face foany explanations. He did not assail mwith a torrent of words nor did he burs

nto a paroxysm of grief and anger. Hievery action was calculated, methodicaremorseless.

He turned to the open door.

"Go!" he commanded sternly. "Leave usleave Brammerton. I never wish to se

you again. You are no son of mine."

His words seared into me. I held out mhands.


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"Go!" he repeated quietly, but, ianything, more firmly.

"Good God! father,won't you heawhat I have to say in explanation?" I crien vexatious desperation.

He did not answer me except with hieyesthose eyes which could say smuch.

My anger was still hot within me. Mnborn sense of fairness deeply resentehis conviction on less than eve

circumstantial evidence; and, at the bac

of all that, I,as well as he, as well aHarry,was a Brammerton, with Brammerton's temperament.


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"Do you mean this, father?" I asked.

"Go!" he reiterated. "I have nothing mor

o say to such an unnatural son, such aunnatural brother as you are."

I bowed, pulled my jacket together wit

a shrug and buttoned it up. After all,what mattered it? I was in the right and knew it.

"All right, father! Some day, I know yowill be sorry."

I turned on my heel and left the armoury

The servants were clustering at the enof the corridor, with frightened eyes andpale faces. They opened up and shuffle

uneasily as I passed through.


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"William," I said to the butler, "you hadbetter go in there. You may be needed."

"Yes, sir! yes, sir!" he answered, andhurried to obey.

Upstairs, in my own room, my knapsac

was lying in a corner, ready for mproposed week-end tour. Beside it, stoomy golf clubs. These will do, I founmyself thinking: a knapsack with a chang

of linen and a bag of golf clubs,not bad outfit to start life with.

I opened my purse:fifty pounds and

few shillings. Not much, but enough! Ifact, nothing would have been plenty.

Suddenly I remembered that, before


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went, I had a duty to perform. From mnside pocket, I took the letter whic

Harry had written to little, forlorn Pegg

Darrol. I went to my writing desk anaddressed an envelope to Lady RosemarGranton. I inserted Harry's letter ansealed the envelope. As to the bearer o

my message, that was easy. I pushed thbutton at my bedside and, in a secondsweet little Maisie Brant came to thdoor.

Maisie always had been my speciafavourite, and, on account of my havinpulled her out of the river when she waonly seven years old, I was hers. She hanever forgotten. I cried to her in an easybantering way in order to reassure her.


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"Neat little Maisie, sweet littlMaisie;Only fifteen and as fresh as a Daisy."

She smiled, but behind her smile was ook of concern.

"I am going away, Maisie," I said.

"Going away, sir?" she repeatedanxiously, as she came bashfully forward

"I won't be back again, Maisie. I agoing for good."

She looked up at me in dumb disquiet.

"Maisie, Lady Rosemary Granton wilbe here this week-end."


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"Yes, sir!" she answered. "I am to havehe honour of looking after her rooms."

I laid my hand gently on her shoulder.

"I want you to do something for meMaisie. I want you to give her this letter

see that she gets it when she is alone. Is more important to her than you can eve

dream of. She must have it within a fewhours of her arrival. No one else must se

eyes on it between now and then. Do younderstand, Maisie?"

"Oh, yes, sir! You can trust me for that."

"I know I can, Maisie. You are a goodgirl."

I gave her the letter and she placed it i


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he safest, the most secret, place she knewher bosom. Then her eyes scanned mover.

"Oh! sir," she cried, in sudden alarm"you are hurt. You are bleeding."

I put my hand to my cheek, but then remembered I had already wiped away thfew drops of blood from there with mhandkerchief.

"Your arm, sir," she pointed.


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"Oh!just a scratch, Maisie."

"Won't you let me bind it for you, sir

before you go?" she pleaded.

"It isn't worth the trouble, Maisie."

Tears came to those pretty eyes of hersso, to please her, I consented.

"All right," I cried, "but hurry, for I hav

no more business in here now than a thiewould have."

She did not understand my meaning, bu

she left me and was back in a momenwith a basin of hot water, a spongebalsam and bandages.

I slipped off my coat and rolled up m


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sleeve, then, as Maisie's gentle fingersponged away the congealed blood ansoothed the throb, I began to discover

from the intense relief, how painful habeen the hurt, mere superficial thing as iwas.

She poured on some balsam and bounup the cut; all gentleness, all tendernessike a mother over her babe.

"There is a little jag here, Maisie, thaaches outrageously now that the other habeen lulled to sleep." I pointed to mbreast.

She undid my shirt, and, as she surveyehe damage, she cried out in anxiety.


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It was a raw, jagged, angry-lookinwound, but nothing to occasion concern.

She dealt with it as she had done thother, then she drew the edges of the cuogether, binding them in place with strip

of sticking plaster. When it was all over,

slipped into my jacket, swung mknapsack across my shoulders, took mgolf-bag under my left arm,and I waready.

Maisie wiped her eyes with the corneof her apron.

"Never mind, little woman," sympathised.

"Must you really go away, sir?" sh


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sobbed.

"Yes!I must. Good-bye, little girl."

I kissed her on the trembling curve of hered, pouting lips, then I went down thstairs, leaving her weeping quietly on th

anding.

As I turned at the front door for one lasook at the inside of the old home, which

might never see again, I saw the servantcarrying Harry from the armoury. I couldhear his voice swearing and complaininn almost healthy vigour, so I wa

pleasantly confirmed in what I already hasurmised,his hurt was as temporary ahe flat of a good, trusty, highland broad

sword could make it.


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CHAPTER V

Tommy Flynn, The Harlford Bruiser

I hurried down the avenue to where ioined the dusty roadway.

I stood for a few moments in indecisionTo my left, down in the hollow, the wayed through the village. To my right, i

stretched far on the level until it narroweo a grey point piercing a semi-circle o

green; but I knew that miles beyond, at thend of that grey line, was the busy town o


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Grangeborough, with its thronging peoplets railways and its steamships. That wahe direction for me.

I waved my hand to sleepy littlBrammerton and I swung to the right, foGrangeborough and the sea.

Soon the internal tumult, caused by whahad just gone through, began to subside

and my spirits rose attune to the glories o

he afternoon.

Little I cared what my lot was destineo bea prince in a palace or a tram

under a hedge. Although, to say truth, thramp's existence held for me the greate

fascination.


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I was young, my lungs were sound anmy heart beat well. I was big anendowed with greater strength than i

allotted the average man.

Glad to be done with pomp, show anconvention, my life was now my very ow

o plan and make, or to warp and spoil, afancy, fortune and fate decreed.

I hankered for the undisturbed quiet o

some small village by the sea, with worenough,but no more,to keep bodnourished and covered; with books iplenty and my pipe well filled; with a

open door to welcome the sunshine, thscented breeze, the salted spray from thocean and my congenial fellow-man.


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But, if I should be led in the paths ogrubbing men, 'mid bustle, strife anquarrel, where the strong and the craft

alone survived, where the weaklings werhrust aside, I was ready and willing take my place, to take my chance, to pi

brawn against brawn, brain against brain

o strike blow for blow, to fail or tosucceed, to live or die, as the gods mighdecree.

As I filled my lungs, I felt as if I harelieved myself of some great burden icutting myself adrift from Brammerton,dear old spot as it was. And I whistledand hummed as I trudged along, trying treach the point of grey at the rim of thsemi-circle of green. On, on I went, on m

seemingly unending endeavour. But I knew


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hat ultimately the road would endalthough merely to open up another and yeanother path over which I would have t

ravel in the long journey of life which labefore me.

As I kept on, I saw the sun go down in

display of blood-red pyrotechnics. I hearhe chatter of the birds in the hedgerow

as they settled to rest. Now and again, passed a tired toiler, with bent head and

dragging feet,his drudgery over for thday, but weighted with the knowledge that must begin all over again on the morrow

and on each succeeding morrow till thcrash of his doom.

The night breeze came up and darknesgathered round me. A few hours more, and


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he twinkling lights of Grangeborougcame into view. They were welcomights to me, for the pangs of a health

hunger were clamouring to be appeased.

As it had been with the country somhours before, so was it now wit

Grangeborough. The town was settlindown for the night. It was late. Most of thshops were closing, or already closedBusiness was over for the day. Peopl

hurried homeward like shadows.

I looked about me for a place to dinebut failed, at first, in my quest. Dow

oward the docks there were brighteights and correspondingly deepe

darknesses. I went along a broahoroughfare, turned down a narrower on


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until I found myself among lanes analleys, jostled by drunken sailors anaccosted by wanton women, as the

staggered, blinking, from the brightlighted saloons.

My finer sensibilities rose and proteste

within me, but I had no choice. If I wisheo quell my craving for food, there wa

nothing left for me to do but to brave thfoul air and the rough element of one o

hese sawdust-floored, glass-ornamentewhisky palaces, where a snack and a glasof ale, at least, could be purchased.

I looked about me and pushed into whaseemed the least disreputable one of itkind. I made through the haze of foul aiand tobacco smoke to the counter, and


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stood idly by until the bar-tender shoulfind it convenient to wait upon me.

The place was crowded with sea-farinmen and the human sediment that is founn and around the docks of all shippin

cities; it resounded with a babel of coarse

discordant voices.

The greater part of this coterie wagathered round a huge individual, wit

enormous hands and feet, a stubbly, bluchin,set, round and aggressive; a noswith a broken bridge spoiled the balancof his podgy face. He had beady eyes an

a big, ugly mouth with stained, irregulaeeth. From time to time, he laughe

boisterously, and his laugh had an echo ohell in it.


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He and his followers appeared to benjoying some good joke. But whenevehe spoke every one else became silen

Each coarse jest he mouthed was laugheat long and uproariously. He had a hold ohis fellows. Even I was fascinated; but iwas by the great similarity of some of th

mannerisms of this uncouth man to those had observed in the lower brute creation.

My attention was withdrawn from him

however, by the sound of the rattling of tincans in another corner which was partlpartitioned from the main bar-room. followed the new sound.

A tattered individual was seated therehis feet among a cluster of pots and panall strung together. His head was in hi


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hands and his red-bearded face was study of dejection and misery.

There was something strangely familian the appearance of the man.

Suddenly I remembered, and I laughed.

I went over and sat down opposite himsetting my golf clubs by my side. Hgnored my arriving. That same old tric

of his!

"Donald,Donald Robertson!" exclaimed, laughing again.

Still he did not look across.

Suddenly he spoke, and in a voice tha

knew neither hope nor gladness.


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"Ye laugh,ye name me by myChristian name,but ye don't sayDonald, will ye taste?'"

I leaned over and pulled his hands awafrom his head. He flopped forward, theglared at me. His eyes opened wide.

"It's,it's you,is it? The second socome to me in my hour o' trial."

"Why! Donald,what's the trouble?" asked.

"Trouble,ye may well say trouble

Have ye mind o' the sixpence ye gied mon the roadside this mornin'."

"Yes!"


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"For thirteen long, unlucky hours I savehat six-pence against my time o' need. ied it in the tail o' my sark for safety.

came in here an hour ago. I ordered glass o' whisky and a tumbler o' beer. I sadoon here for a while wi' them botbefore me, enjoying the sight o' them an

ndulgin' in the heavenly joy oanteecipation. Then I drank the speeritand was just settlin' doon to the beer,ryin' to make it spin oot as long as

could; for, ye ken, it's comfortable in herewhen an emissary o' the deevil, whands like shovels and a leer in his e'e

came in and picked up the tumbler fraunder my very nose and swallowed thbalance o' your six-pence before I coulsay squeak."


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I laughed at Donald's rueful countenancand his more than rueful tale.

"Did the man have a broken nose and heavy jaw?" I asked.

"Ay, ay!" said Donald, lowering hi

voice. "Do ye happen to ken him?"

"No!but he is still out there and hhinks it a fine joke that he played on you.

"So would I," said Donald, "if I hadrunk his beer."

"What did you do when he swalloweoff your drink?" I asked.

"Do!what do ye think I did?

remonstrated wi' a' the vehemence that


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Struan Robertson in anger is capable oBut the vehemence o' the Lord himsecouldna bring the beer back."

"Why didn't you fight, man? Why didnyou knock the bully down?" I askedpitying his wobegone appearance.

"Mister,whatever your name is,I'a man o' peace; and, forby I'm auld enougo ken it's no' wise to fight on an empt

stomach. I havena had a bite since I sawye last."

"Never mind, Donald,cheer up. I a

going to have some bread and cheese, ana glass of ale, so you can have some witme, at my expense."


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His face lit up like a Roman candle.

"Man,I'm wi' ye. You're a man o

substance, and I'm fonder o' substantiabread and cheese and beer than I am o' thmetapheesical drinks I was indulgin' in foen minutes before ye so providentiall

came."

I could not help wondering at some ohe remarks of this wise, yet good-for

ittle, old customer; but I did not press hifor more enlightenment.

I thumped the hand-bell on the table, an

was successful in obtaining more prompattention from the bar-tender than I habeen able to do across the counter.


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When the food and drink were placebetween us and paid for, Donald stuffedall but one slice of his bread and chees

nside his waistcoat, and he sighecontentedly as he contemplated thsparkling ale.

But, all at once, he startled me bspringing to his feet, seizing his tumbler ihis hand and emptying the contents dowhis gullet at two monstrous gulps.

"No, no!ye thievin' deevil," hshouted, as he regained his breath, "ycanna do that twice wi' Donal

Robertson."

I looked toward the opening in thpartition. Donald's recent enemy,th


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man whom I had been studying at the otheend of the bar-room,was shoulderinhimself into our company. Behind him, i

a semi-circle, a dozen faces grinned ianticipation of some more fun at Donald'expense.

The big bully glared down at me as I sat

"That there is uncommon good beeryoung un," he growled, "and that there i

most uncommon good bread and cheese."

I glanced at him with half-shut eyelidshen I broke off another piece of bread.

"Maybe you didn't 'ear me?" he shouteagain, "I said that was uncommon goobeer."


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"I shall be better able to judge of thamy man, after I have tasted it," I replied.

"Not that beer, little boy,you aingoing to taste that," he thundered, "becaus

'appens to want it,see! I 'appens tave a most aggrawating thirst in m

gargler."

A burst of laughter followed thiponderous attempt at humour.

"'And it over, sonny,I wants it."

I merely raised my head and ran my eye

over him.

He was an ugly brute, and no mistake. Aman of tremendous girth.


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Although I had no real fear of him,foralready I had been schooled to thknowledge that fear and its twin brothe

worry are man's worst opponents.I waa little uncertain as to what the outcomwould be if I got him thoroughly angeredHowever, I was in no mind to b

nterfered with.

He thumped his heavy fist on the table.

"'And that over,quick," he roared.

His great jaws clamped together and hihick, discoloured lips becam

compressed.

"Why!certainly, my friend," remarked easily, rising with slow


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deliberation. "Which will you have firstthe bread and cheese, or the ale?"

"'Twere the ale I arst and it's th' ale wants,and blamed quick about it or I'lknow the reason w'y."

"Stupid of me!" I remarked. "I shoulhave known you wanted the ale first. Heryou are, my good, genial, handsomfellow."

I picked up the foaming tumbler anoffered it to him. When he stretched ouhis great, grimy paw to take it, I tossed th

stuff smack into his face, sending showerof the liquid into the gaping countenanceof his supporters.


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He staggered back among themmomentarily blinded, and, as he staggered

sent the tumbler on the same errand a

he ale. It smashed in a hundred pieces ohe side of his broken nose, opening up a

old gash there and sending a stream oblood oozing down over his mouth.

There was no more laughter, nogrinning. The place was as quiet as church during prayer. I pushed into th

open saloon, with the remonstratinDonald at my heels. Then the bull began troar. He pulled off his coat, while half dozen of his own kind endeavoured witdirty handkerchiefs and rags to mop thblood from his face.

"Shut the door. Don't let 'im away fro


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ere," he shouted. "I'll push his windpipnto his boots, I will. Watch me!"

As I stood with my back against thpartition, the bar-tender slipped round thend of the counter.

"Look here, guv'nor," he whispered witgood intent, "the back door's open,ruike the devil."

I turned to him in mild surprise.

"Don't be an ijit," he went on. "Git. Whyhe's Tommy Flynn, the champion rib

cracker and face pusher of Harlford, heron his holidays."

"Tommy Flynn," I answered, "Tommy

Rot fits him better."


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"You ain't a-going to stand up and gehit, are you?"

"What else is there for me to do?" asked.

He threw up his arms despairingly.

"Lor' lumme!then I bids you good-byand washes my hands clean of you." Andhe went round behind the counter i

disgust, spitting among the sawdust.

By this time, Tommy Flynn, thechampion rib cracker and face pusher

was rolling up his sleeves businesslikand thrusting off his numerous seconds ihis anxiety to get at me.

"'Ere, Splotch," he cried to a one-eye


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bosom friend of his, "'old my watch, whiljoggles the puddins out of this kid with

eft 'ander. My heye!'e won't be no

blooming golfing swell in another 'alminute."

He grinned at me a few times in order t

hypnotise me with his beauty and to instin me the necessary amount o

frightfulness, before he got to work iearnest. Then, by way of invitation, h

hrust forward his jaw almost into mface. I took advantage of his offesomewhat more quickly than hanticipated. I struck him on the chin witmy left and drew my right to his body. Buhis chin was hard as flint and it bruisemy knuckles; while his great body wa

podgy and of an india-rubberlik


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flexibility.

For my pains, he brushed my ear an

drew a little blood, with the grin of an apon his brutish face.

He threw up his arms to guard, feinted a

me, and rushed in.

I parried his blows successfully, much this surprise, for I could see his eye

widening and a wrinkle in his brow.

"Careful, Tommy!careful," cautionedSplotch of the one eye. "He's a likel

ooking young bloke."

"Likely be blowed," said Tommyshortly, as he toyed with me. "Watch this!


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I saw that it would be for my own goodhe less I let my antagonist know of m

ability at his own game, and I knew also

would have to play caution with mstrength all the way, owing to the tryinordeals I had already gone through thaday.

Once, my antagonist tried to draw me ahe would draw a novice. I ignored thbody bait he opened up for me and

nstead, I swung in quickly with my righon to his bruised nose, with all the energ

could muster. He staggered and reeledike a drunken man. In fact, had he no

been half-besotted by dear-only-knowhow many days of debauchery, it mighhave gone hard with me, but now h

positively howled with pain.


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I had hit on his most vulnerable partright at the beginning.

Something inside of me chuckled, for, ihere was one special place in any man'

anatomy that I always had been able treach, it was his nose.

Flynn rushed on me again and again. was lucky indeed in beating back hionslaughts.

Once, a spent blow got me on the cheekyet, spent as it was, it made me numb andizzy for the moment. Once, he caught m

squarely on the chest right over the wounmy brother had given me. The pain of thawas like the cut of a red-hot knife, but ipassed quickly. I staggered and reeled


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several times, as flashes of weaknesseemed to pass over me. I began to feahat my strength would give out.

I pulled myself together with an effortThen, once,twice,thrice,in succession bewildering to myself,

smashed that broken nose of Flynn'ssending him sick and wobbling among hifollowing.

He became maddened with rage. Hicompanions commenced to voice cautionand instructions. He swore back at them ia muddy torrent of abuse.

Already, the fight was over;I couldfeel it in my bones;over, far sooner andmore satisfactory to me than I ha


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expected. And, more by good luck than bability, I was, to all intents and purposesunscathed.

Tommy Flynn could fight. But he was nohe fighter he would have been had h

been away from drink and in stric

raining, as I was. It was my good fortuno meet him when he was out of condition

He spat out a mouthful of blood anreturned to the conflict, defending his nos

with all the ferocity of a lioness defendinher whelps.

"Look out! Take care!" a timely voice

whispered on my left.

Something flashed in my opponent'hands in the gaslight. I backed to th


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partition. We had a terrible mix-up jushen. Blow and counterblow rained. H

broke down my guard once and drov

with fierce force for my face. I duckedust in time, for he missed me by a mer

hair's-breadth. His fist smashed into metal bolt in the woodwork. Sparks flew

and there was a loud ring of metal againsmetal.

"You cowardly brute!" I shouted

breaking away as it dawned on me that hhad attacked me with heavy knuckledusters. My blood fairly danced witmadness. I sprang in on him in a positivfrenzy. He became a child in my hands

ever had I been roused as I was then. struck and struck again at his hideous fac

until it sagged away from me.


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He was blind with his own blood. followed up, raining punch upon punch,pitilessly,relentlessly. His feet slipped

n the slither of bloody sawdust. I strucagain and he crashed to the floor, strikinhis head against the iron pedestal of round table in the corner.

He lay all limp and senseless, with himouth

watson robert - my brave and gallant gentleman

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