is not forgiven easily by any man, and Starth was the last person to let bygones be bygones. Then, again, if there was to be trouble Miss Starth would not be there, and the careful dressing would be wasted. Lancaster was no coward, but he did not wish to accentuate his bad relations with Starth. He had half a mind to send round stating that he could not come, but the hope that, after all, his divinity might be present, decided him to go. Having made up his mind he completed his toilet, and ended by stowing away a pistol in his hip pocket. It was a loaded Derringer, which Frank sometimes took with him when he went round the slums on dangerous business connected with his journalistic work. On the present occasion it was taken merely to intimidate Starth should he have arranged a trap.
"The man's a coward," thought Frank, as he issued forth into the July sunshine, "so if he threatens in any way I can show him the pistol if necessary. I'd rather use my fists as I did last night, but for all I know he may have a revolver handy. It's as well to be on the safe side."
All the same he rather despised himself for this precaution, and twice was on the point of returning to his room to discard the weapon. Still, Starth was a dangerous man, and might use something lethal only to be met with by a revolver; and if nothing happened no one would ever know that he--Lancaster was thinking of himself--carried a pistol. In spite of his experience of life, Frank was callow in many ways, else he would not have armed himself in so unnecessary a manner.
Starth lived in a South Kensington side street, a blind alley where the houses were small, and each was fronted by a weedy garden. Lancaster found himself after a brisk walk--he never took a cab unless forced to, and disliked a 'bus ride--facing a blank, dismal house of two storeys with green shutters. It had not been painted for years, and the front was blistered, weather-stained, discoloured, and generally dilapidated. Some attempt had been made to cultivate the patch of ground in front, but, beyond rearing a few marigolds and pansies, the attempt had not been successful. Up a path bordered by oyster shells, Frank advanced to a rustic porch of green latticework, entwined with dusty creepers, and rang a jingling little bell whose shrill summons he could hear. While waiting he casually noticed that the right-hand window was slightly open, although the blind was pulled down. Before he could observe further, the door opened so suddenly that it almost seemed as though the person behind had been waiting in the passage.
The person was a small sluttish servant, with gooseberry eyes and a pasty white face. She was attired in her best blue dress, and wore a large picture-hat trimmed with more flowers than adorned the garden. Also she had on gloves, and carried a yellow umbrella. As soon as she saw Frank she burst into voluble speech.
"Yer the gent as wishes to see Mr. Starth, and I am glad to see you, sir, for he said as you was goin' to be 'ere at four, it now bein' half-past, and I'm goin' out, my young man waiting for me. This way, sir, and please be quick, as I am in a hurry. Missus 'ave gone out too, but the tea's all ready and the kettle on the fire."
Almost before she finished this incoherent address, she conducted the astonished Frank up a stuffy staircase, and into a front room. Hastily shoving him into this, she banged the door, and hurried away, presumably to meet her young man. Lancaster, puzzled by this reception, and by the mean look of the room in which he found himself, halted at the door, waiting for his host to speak. Starth was sitting in an armchair by the window, with a book. He threw this down, and advanced to his visitor with outstretched hands.
"I'm glad you've come, Lancaster," he said, eagerly. "I am so ashamed of myself that I hardly know what to say."
"Say nothing more," said Frank, laying aside his hat and cane. "I am only too glad to come to an understanding. I can't comprehend why you quarrel with me."
"Jealousy," said Starth, quickly, and sat down.
"Of me and Miss Berry? Well, you needn't be. I don't love her."
Starth pulled down the blind so as to prevent his discoloured eye showing up too badly. "I thought you were to marry her?" he remarked.
"Certainly not. Such an idea never entered my head. Who said so?"
"Captain Berry."
Frank looked puzzled, then laughed. "I should have thought Berry more ambitious for his niece. I haven't any money."
"That's just it," said Starth, slowly. "If you are poor, how did you come to give her those diamonds?"
"I never did. I heard you gave them to her."
Starth laughed, and glanced round the stuffy room. "Would I live in this dog's kennel if I could afford such stones?" he said. "My dear Lancaster, I'm desperately hard up. Between my sister and myself there is enough to live on, no more."
"I saw your sister last night," said Frank.
"Yes. She lives in Essex, but happened to be in town, so I got her a box. She went back this morning with Mrs. Perth."
"Is that the lady who was with her?"
Starth nodded. "She and my sister live together in a small cottage at Wargrove. But I needn't bore you with my family history. I want you to accept my apology."
"I do, Starth. But why did you mention my parents?"
"It was the only thing I could think of."
"To make me angry, I suppose? H'm! You know nothing about me."
"No. Is there anything interesting to know?"
"I fear not," said Lancaster. "My story is a dull one. Still, I thought that Jarman might have said something."
"He said nothing. I never asked about you," responded the other, quickly. "Fact is, Lancaster, I don't think you and I ever got on well together. My fault, I'm afraid, as I have such a bad temper. I am jealous, too, as I love Miss Berry and want to marry her."
"You can, for all I care," said Lancaster, quietly. "I did admire her greatly, but I never had any intention of marrying her. As to the diamonds, who told you that I gave them to her?"
"No one directly. But Berry hinted--"
"Why should he hint?" said Frank, thoughtfully. "He knows I'm as poor as the proverbial church mouse. Do you think he wants me, or expects me, to marry his niece?"
"Yes, I do," said Starth, promptly; "and that was why I grew jealous."
"Then I can't see his reason. I have no money, no position, and no influence. Miss Berry doesn't love me--"
"The Captain says she does," said Starth, quickly.
"Oh, that's rubbish! She likes me because I write her songs, and we get on well together. As for love--" Frank shrugged his shoulders.
"Have you never been in love, Lancaster?"
Frank grew red and shook his head, looking down meanwhile. Starth's jealous eyes followed his every movement, and he eagerly waited for an answer. But none came. Frank could not bring himself to say that he had fallen in love with a girl he had seen but once, and to say it to her brother. In place of gratifying Starth's curiosity he changed the subject. "What a queer servant that was who admitted me," he said. "She was quite angered because I had delayed her appointment with her young man. Had I known, I'd have been punctual."
"It's Tilly," said Starth, carelessly. "A queer creature, as you say--a London slavey of the regular type. I believe Mrs. Betts--that's my landlady--gets her cheap from a workhouse.
