``The Henshaws. Is she happy? Is he--on
the square?''

Arkwright's face darkened.

``Well, really,'' he began; but Calderwell interrupted.

``Oh, come; don't be squeamish. You think
I'm butting into what doesn't concern me; but
I'm not. What concerns Billy does concern me.
And if he doesn't make her happy, I'll--I'll kill
him.''

In spite of himself Arkwright laughed. The
vehemence of the other's words, and the fierceness
with which he puffed at his cigar as he fell
back in his chair were most expressive

``Well, I don't think you need to load revolvers
nor sharpen daggers, just yet,'' he observed grimly.

Calderwell laughed this time, though without
much mirth.

``Oh, I'm not in love with Billy, now,'' he
explained. ``Please don't think I am. I shouldn't
see her if I was, of course.''

Arkwright changed his position suddenly, bringing