NEVER FORGOTTEN.

PART THE SECOND.
CHAPTER XLII. UNDER A LAMP.

"WHO is going to the fancy ball, rout, whatever
it is?" asked Romaine, again stooping to
play. "I am, I know. I have arranged a tableau
for myself—my own actors. Ring, Brett, like
a good lad, for brandies and sodas. I wish there
was a company to lay on soda in the streets like a
main. I'd pay what rates they asked. I hear
Fermor here is going with a lantern and cloak as
Guy Fawkes, ha, ha! There we go again!
Nothing like it. What dress is your fine friend
going in, eh, Fermor? The Queen of Sheba, eh?
I should like to tell that lady some home truths.
For the world I would not breathe her name in a
mixed company, of course; but Fermor
understands perfectly."

Three of the men suddenly went out. Fermor,
boiling furiously at the recollection of past injuries,
thinking, too, of the rebellion at home, thought
the moment was come. He had a thought, too,
of some false chivalry, as he fancied himself the
champion of Miss Manuel. He jumped from his
place.

"I have put up with this too long," he said.
"I won't bear it. You have laid yourself out
the whole evening to insult me. I tell you, I
won't bear it."

"Well, don't," said Romaine, getting his cue
into position. "Just stand a little away, my
friend, and continue your remarks at the other
side of the table."

"I will not listen to your slanders, on a lady
that is—it is infamous, unworthy! Before leaving
this room, you must retract, sir. I tell you,
you shall."

Romaine laughed loudly and good humouredly.
"We have stirred you up," he said—"with a
billiard cue. However, let us hear you out.
Go on. Well?"

"I say, Fermor, Fermor," said Young Brett,
anxiously, "what are you at?"

"He must retract," said Fermor, excitedly.
"I'll have none of his insolent speeches at me!
I shan't be made the butt of his smart words.
You heard him. Every one here heard him. I
have long been wanting the opportunity."

"Nonsense," said Young Brett. "Don't you
see it is all a joke?"

"Don't interfere with me, Mr. Brett," said
Fermor, turning on him. "This Romaine
understands me perfectly; it is a long account. He
has other things to reckon with me for. He
knows it."

"Well," said Romaine, suddenly becoming
grave, and resting on his billiard cue. "Well,
here I am now, and here is the opportunity.
Shut the door, Brett, like a good boy. Now, let
us hear all about it. I am now before you, Mr.
Fermor, or Captain Fermor. I only give you a
caution in the friendliest spirit imaginable; don't
try anything of this sort," he said, doubling his
fingers. "I never boast; but I give you my
word of honour, I broke a man's skull in a fall,
who did try it. I didn't intend it. Now, what
is it you want?"

Fermor glared at him. "Not boast," he said.
"I am no match for you at that, I know," he
said. "But——"

"No, you are not," said the other, "nor at
anything else. Do you want pistols, and police
on the ground, and all London laughing at us?
A cheap way of getting a reputation for bravery.
Are you for a theatrical duel, with the principals
arrested and bound over? A public challenge in
the public room of a club! Not a soul to know
of it! I admire you—upon my soul I do. Now,
what else do you want Mr. Fermor?"

More "men" were dropping in now, brought
by that curious instinct which leads men to the
scene of a commotion. There was a sort of a
little audience. Romaine's eye rested on him,
and Romaine's hand rested on the cue.

Fermor did not feel easy under that eye. He
tried a poor abortion of a sneer. "I have no
knack," he said, "at those smart words. I am.
not a match for you at——"

Again Romaine laughed with noisy good
humour. "Indeed you are not, Fermor. Neither
at billiards, nor at the gloves, nor at the tongue."

"I, thought you never boasted," struck in
Fermor, bitterly.

"O, sometimes—a little," said the other.
"We are all weak, you know. Now, my friend,
while you are making up your mind as to what
you are going to do, pray let me go on with my
game. There! the old story. Pocket again.
Ha, ha!"