"Much, thank you, Henry," murmured Hugh. "Ah! and there's Carl. How's the tummy, Carl? I hope for your sake that it's feeling stronger than the back of my head."
He grinned cheerfully, and Lakington struck him on the mouth. "You can stop that style of conversation, Captain Drummond," he remarked. "I dislike it."
Hugh stared at the striker in silence.
"Accept my congratulations," he said at length, in a low voice which, despite himself, shook a little. "You are the first man who has ever done that, and I shall treasure the memory of that blow."
"I'd hate it to be a lonely memory," remarked Lakington. "So here's another, to keep it company." Again he struck him, then with a laugh he turned on his heel. "My compliments to Miss Benton," he said to a man standing near the door, "and ask her to be good enough to come down for a few minutes."
The veins stood out on Drummond's forehead at the mention of the girl, but otherwise he gave no sign; and, in silence, they waited for her arrival.
She came almost at once, a villainous-looking blackguard with her, and as she saw Hugh she gave a pitiful little moan and held out her hand to him.
"Why did you come, boy?" she cried. "Didn't you know it was only a forgery—that note?"
"Ah! was it?" said Hugh softly. "Was it, indeed?"
"An interesting point," murmured Lakington. "Surely if a charming girl is unable—or unwilling—to write to her fiancé, her father is a very
