Knight lifted his shoulders; his smile had become whimsical. He had
drawn the fellow at last. "I thought you'd seen something," he remarked,
"by your way. But who could help making love to a girl with a face like
that? It would take a heart of stone to resist it. Why, even you"--and
his look challenged Rufus with careless derision--"even you have fallen
to that temptation before now, or I'm much mistaken. But I gather that
your attentions did not meet with a very favourable response."

He was baiting the animal now, taunting him, with the semi-humorous
malice of the mischievous schoolboy. He had no particular grudge against
Rufus, but he had a lively desire to see him squirm.

But this desire was not to be gratified. Rufus met the thrust without
the faintest hint of feeling.

"What you think," he said, in his weighty fashion, "has nothing to do
with me. What you do is all that matters. And I tell you straight"--a
blue flame suddenly leapt up like a volcanic light in the sombre
eyes--"that no man that hasn't honest intentions by her is going to make
love to Columbine."

"Great Jove!" mocked Knight, with his careless laugh. "And who told you,
most worthy swain, what my intentions were?"

Rufus leaned towards him slowly, with something of the action of a
crouching beast. "No one told me," he said in a voice that was deeply
menacing. "But--I know."

Knight made a gesture of supreme indifference. "You are on an entirely
wrong scent," he observed. "But you seem to be enjoying it." He paused