in which he had preyed upon his innocent wife, he would, in all
probability, thrash him within an inch of his life.

He was far from being comfortable, and wished that he had taken
Adelaide's advice and had gone less rashly to work--had been content
with less. After all, he felt compelled to own that he had been rather
hard upon her.

"Let her send this time," he said to himself, "and I will not trouble
her again just yet."

He was seated in a luxurious lounging chair, on the table by his side
was a bottle of finest Cognac, and he was enjoying the flavor of a very
fine cigar. Notwithstanding all these comforts, Allan Lyster was not
happy.

"I cannot think," he said to himself, "why she does not send."

At that moment he heard a sharp ring at the door bell.

"That is the messenger," he said to himself, triumphantly, "and it is
quite time, too."

But it was a man's heavy footstep that mounted the stairs, and when
Allan Lyster looked anxiously at the door, he was astonished to see Lord
Atherton enter, carrying a thick riding whip in his hand.

He sprang obsequiously from his chair.

"I am delighted to see you, my lord," he began, but one look at that