hand still resting on the stem of a claret glass, a cigar suspended
between the fingers of his left hand.

"Are you Colonel Arran?"

"I am," replied the man at the table coolly. "Who the devil are
you?"

"By God," replied the other with an insolent laugh, "that's what I
came here to find out!"


The man at the table laid both hands on the edge of the cloth and
partly rose from his chair, then fell back solidly, in silence, but
his intent gaze never left the other's bloodless face.

"Send away your servants, Colonel Arran!" said the young man in a
voice now labouring under restraint. "We'll settle this matter
now."

The other made as though to speak twice; then, with an effort, he
motioned to the butler.

What he meant by the gesture perhaps he himself scarcely realised
at the moment.

The butler instantly signalled to Pim, the servant behind Colonel
Arran's chair, and started forward with a furtive glance at his
master; and the young man turned disdainfully to confront him.