With his easy, superior laugh he turned and looked his motionless
companion up and down. "Well?" he said. "Have you brought me here to
admire the view? Very fine no doubt; but I could have done it without
your guidance."

There was no immediate reply to his carelessly flung query, and faint
curiosity arose within him mingling with his strong contempt. He pulled
a hand out of his pocket and displayed a few _annas_ in his palm.

"Well?" he said again. "What may this valuable piece of information be
worth?"

The other made an abrupt movement; it was almost as if he curbed some
savage impulse to violence. He moved back a pace, and there in the
moonlight before Dacre's insolent gaze--he changed.

With a deep breath he straightened himself to the height of a tall man.
The bent contorted limbs became lithe and strong. The cringing humility
slipped from him like a garment. He stood upright and faced Ralph
Dacre--a man in the prime of life.

"That," he said, "is a matter of opinion. So far as I am concerned, it
has cost a damned uncomfortable journey. But--it will probably cost you
more than that."

"Great--Jupiter!" said Dacre.

He stood and stared and stared. The curt speech, the almost fiercely
contemptuous bearing, the absolute, unwavering assurance of this man
whom but a moment before he had so arrogantly trampled underfoot sent