Wharton, then moved one of his supporting hands to reach his wine and at once fell sideways to the floor.

Mr Wharton came leisurely to look at him. He still smiled. Mr Wharton summoned servants, and the love-lorn hero was carried (always smiling) to bed. Mr Wharton turned to my Lord Laleham : "Begad, Dick," says he, "'tis a happy ending," and he walked away for his pipe.

My Lord Laleham's heavy mind wrestled with the evidence: "So the wench sold him to Sherborne?" he said at last, slowly, "just as she has sold herself."

Mr Wharton put down his tobacco-box, and bending to strike a light, "You believe that then, do you?" said he.

Laleham's eyebrows went up: "Believe it? Why? Why not? Do not you?"

Mr Wharton puffed till his pipe was alight: then drawled: "I believe what I know, Dick."

"But this

; why, 'tis clear—'

"As a riddle," said Mr Wharton, and sat down and crossed his legs.

"All the town knows the woman!"

"I never knew all the town right yet."

Laleham was much puzzled and scratched his large head: "Zounds, and do you take her part, Tom Wharton?" he muttered.

Mr Wharton laughed. "Did you ever know me take the woman's part, Dick?" he drawled. He smoked on for a while, then took out his pipe. But I like to see things as they are,"

says he, "and I'ld give you a hundred to ten she knew nothing of Sherborne's bravoes."

"Do you mean she is honest?" cried Laleham, and Wharton nodded slowly behind his smoke. "Damme, if I thought so

66

'You'ld say so-like a fool." "But if he loved her?"

"He'll need to get drunk again.' "And that will cure him?

"If not we'll repeat the medicine."

Laleham frowned. "You think yourself devilish wise," he muttered angrily. what if she loves him?"

"And

Mr Wharton grinned. "What if she does?" he drawled. "She may love him till we are all in hell, for me. Damme, Dick, it would be a pleasant memory for her in future affections."

"Zounds, you'ld have them both spoil their lives for-for what then?"

"You have a curst taste in phrases," said Mr Wharton critically. "Well, Dick, say that I'ld not have friend Jack 'spoil his own life'" (Mr Wharton paused to chuckle). "Do you see, to be tied to a wench, 'tis ruin and hell."

"And she?"

66

He

Why, Dick, I was born a man myself," says Mr Wharton, taking out his pipe to yawn. "And the women may take care of the women. Bless them for their eagerness to do it!" knocked out his pipe and took up another. "Now tell me, you champion of true love, would you like your friend Jack tied to a theatre wench? "

66

Why, no," Laleham muttered. "No. But begad, Tom, you talk like a knave." "Faith, I am," said Wharton. "I judge it uncomfortable to be a saint. Well, will you play me another hand?" And with that they fell again to the cards.

It was after my Lord Laleham had gone that M. de Beaujeu, who had supped gaily at Locket's, came to Mr Wharton and stood before him smiling.

"Oh, he is well enough," said Wharton. "He had made himself three parts drunk and I finished him. A head and a huff in the morning-another wench in a week."

"Admirable. I heard him call her Delila.' I thought that it had sufficed."

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Begad," Mr Wharton laughed, "it would sound so.

"Now who sent the bullies?"

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"I suggested them to my good friend

Sherborne.

Mr Wharton gave a sinful chuckle.

And M. de Beaujeu smiling, said amiably: "I think that I now call quits with Mistress Charlbury;" who had been praying for him, who lay asleep with tears wet on her cheeks.

CHAPTER XIX

MR HEALY COMES THROUGH WHITEFRIARS

BEAUJEU was received at the door by Mr Healy, who asked at once, " And how was the lady?'

"Her incomparable self," said Beaujeu, laughing, and passed on.

"Was she so?" Mr Healy followed him. "And did you hear what the cub called her?" Beaujeu, putting off his sword, looked at him smiling, "Delila, was it?"

"It was that," says Mr Healy, with emphasis. "And I would be glad to have the thrashing of him."

"What?" Beaujeu stared at him. "Damme, Healy, what do you think of a wench who plays at love with you to sell you to another man?"

"And what do you think of a man, Beaujeu, that calls his love false with devil a cause?

"Faith, four cudgels would be cause enough for me."

"And who would it be that sent them? Will you tell me she knew of it?" Beaujeu turned away to the wine. "Do you tell me that now?" Mr Healy cried insistent.

"In fact," says Beaujeu quietly, "I sent them. That is, I bade Sherborne send them." Healy said nothing. Beaujeu turned for an answer and found it in his eyes. And seeing it M. de Beaujeu flushed and, "I desired to break the

boy of his folly," he cried; "I know what the wench is."

"You learnt as he has learnt, maybe!" Mr Healy flashed a riposte. And that got home, for Beaujeu's glass shook in his hand. He grew white, then flushed again. Mr Healy put a hand on his shoulder. "Beaujeu, man," says he, softly, "you have the wit of the devil and the devil's pride. And are you the happier for it, think ye?"

In a moment Beaujeu laughed. "Why, I am what I am-and that is tired, Healy. I'll give you good-night."

"Not yet," says Mr Healy, holding him. "I'll be wanting a word with you "-and then, as Beaujeu stiffened, he laughed-" No, my Lord Lucifer, 'tis purely my own affair, this."

"Then I am with you," said Beaujeu graciously, and sat down and stretched his legs.

"In the wisdom of providence," Mr Healy observed, "it began with a bit of a sword. "Twill be in your mind that the Seraing blade was light in the hilt. So I took it (your yawns will win you no mercy, my dear) to Lodge, at the Crown' 'Crown' in Thames Street. "Tis the only lad in this town with a soul for steel. Well, Beaujeu, to give me a taste for virtue I came back through Whitefriars and admired a full crop of bullies and blowens warming themselves by the river. I was past the thick of them, I would be on the edge of Alsatia, when I came on two hang-dogly knaves at the top of a court. Distressingly tremulous they were, and their eyes did not