CHAPTER XVI

DEAD SEA-FRUIT

A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king,
And eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.

-Shakespeare.

TELL, what news, Tate," questioned the

"WELL,

master of Maplehurst, when at a signal, his valet had followed him to a chamber remote from the festive rooms.

"I have been watching at the outer gates as you bade me, Sir Philip, and have brought you some intelligence," replied the man significantly.

"Speak quickly then," demanded Sir Philip, "I cannot remain long away from my guests."

"Just as the moon rose, about half an hour ago, I saw a horseman gallop into a thicket of scrub pine about fifty yards from the river bank, and dismount.

"After securing his horse well within the shadows of the trees, he commenced to creep slowly and cautiously toward the gates. I concealed myself in the shrubberies near by and allowed him to pass through them, then followed at a safe distance as he made his way toward the castle walls. I saw him approach one of the windows of the back drawing-room, whose curtains were half

drawn, and gaze within; as he did so I heard him mutter aloud these words:

"Sir Philip Camden, right royally do you entertain! right noble and grand-looking is the gentry gathered within your castle halls to-night! Such pomp, I imagine, is seldom seen in the gay world this side the Atlantic. But beware, oh Sir Philip Camden-' I noticed that he laid a peculiar emphasis on your name each time he pronounced it. Your season of triumph is in its declining days. By heaven! I will tear the mask from your face and reveal all those foul colors lying beneath it to the world, which you have so long swindled! Either will I declare you, or you shall henceforth pave my way as you have paved your own through the gilded labyrinths of society.'

"Well, is that all?" asked Sir Philip com. placently, as the man paused. "By the powers! it is an interesting legend!" he exclaimed, coolly lighting a cigar at the low candelabra. "Ha! ha! 'the gilded labyrinths of society' is a pretty phrase! (puff). Go on."

"As he continued to look into the apartment, still muttering his maledictions," resumed Tate, "I stepped silently up behind him. 'Who are you,' said I, 'that you steal about like a cur to spy upon and menace my master ?' He turned upon me a face of sneering defiance: a servant of Sir Philip Camden,' said

If you are he, 'I warn

you, my friend, be not so bold; for Philip, your master, is bought and sold.'"

Sir Philip laughed again.

"A ranter of Shakespeare," he observed. "Pursue, my good Tate, pursue," he then said, continuing to puff at his cigar.

"I called him a madman, whereupon he again sneered at me.

"If I am mad, then,' said he, 'out of humanity befriend me. Go to Sir Philip with a madman's appeal. Hand him this, and return to me with his answer.'

With this, Tate took from his inner vest pocket a closely folded piece of paper. He handed this to the master of Maplehurst, and stood by, watching his face as he opened and read it; but he saw no sign of disturbance there.

Sir Philip's features were without a quiver as he traced the lines which ran:

"M. Alphonse Favraud, late of Paris, presents his compliments to Sir Philip Camden, and prays his honor for an early interview, to-night."

He even, after assuring himself that there was nothing compromising to himself in the three lines, read them aloud, omitting the name, sim ply, which headed them; then igniting the paper at the candelabra, he stamped the burning particle under his faultlessly slippered foot, with the deliberation that he would have used in stamping the life out of a ground spider or a caterpillar.

"Go to this-a-fool," said he, "and, inasmuch as he simulates Shakespeare, say that I am 'not in the vein' for granting him an interview tonight, nor yet for several nights. Hasten now, and do you make the premises well rid of him at once."

"But, Sir Philip, his threats? He may make a scene. His face is full of evil purpose. I like it not."

"Threats be ! A toothless cur can threaten with its bark. Don't be a sop. Be gone and do my bidding-yet, stay! a-you might add that if he chooses to come to me on some night during next week, say Thursday, at this hour, I will be at his service."

"Ah! that would imply some little fear of his bite, despite your indifference," observed the man to himself as the door closed him from his master's presence.

No sooner was Sir Philip left alone than he tossed aside his cigar and placed his hand to his throat, as if he might have felt there an uncomfortable tightness. Then all his latent furies burst forth to defile the silence which brooded there.

"Curse him! Curse him!" hissed this, now, demon man, as he paced the floor, with breast convulsed, and eyes emitting venom's own lurid flame. "I would I could sear his soul with the brimstone of my curses! He threatens. Oh des

picable consequence that he should live to spy upon and threaten me! Oh loathsome worm! would that I had seen him in his grave-shroud ere turning my face from Europe; then my future would have been secure, while now it stands on thin ice. Curse him! he lives to bring back the dead and rotten sea fruit from those forgotten shores, to cast upon my proud estate for its contamination! He shall not! I will baffle him in his accursed purpose, by heaven, I swear it! I"

Here his frenzied soliloquy ceased suddenly as there came the sound of footsteps in the corridor without. The next instant his body-servant reentered the room.

"The man has gone, Sir Philip. He sent you this."

His master read the one scrawled pencil line, which ran thus:

"Look for me promptly at 11 on Thursday night." Then he burned the scrap of yellow paper as he had done the first, and with the same stoical countenance; after which he dismissed his servant, saying briefly:

"When I need you again, Tate, I shall not hesitate to call upon you."

Ten minutes later he returned to the ball room, where he at once sought out Mrs. Rossmore, and bent contritely over her with suave apologies for