The Chase of the Ruby. Marsh Richard

excuse my asking you, but such a lot of people, perfect strangers, come hanging about and annoying her that my orders are not to let anybody go up if I can help it who isn't a friend of hers. I understand you to say that you are a friend.'

      'A friend of some years' standing.'

      Mr Holland sighed. The porter observed him with dubious glances, being possibly doubtful as to the meaning of the sigh.

      'I suppose it's all right if you're a friend of hers; you ought to know best if you are. I can only say that you'll do no good if you're trying it on. I don't know if Miss Bewicke is in; I don't think she's returned from the theatre. But you can go up and see. I'll take you up in the lift if you like.'

      The porter took him up in the lift. On the way Mr Holland asked a question.

      'Do Miss Bewicke's unknown admirers allow their admiration to carry them as far as her private residence?'

      'I don't know about admiration. Idiots I call them; and sometimes worse. People hang about here all day, and sometimes half the night, trying to introduce themselves to her, and I don't know what rubbish. Why, I've known half-a-dozen cabs follow her from the theatre to the very door.'

      'Empty cabs?'

      'Not much; a fool, and sometimes two fools, in each.'

      'Ah!' Mr Holland reflected. 'If Miss Bewicke had been destined to be my wife I wonder how I should have enjoyed her being the object of such ardent admiration. Under such circumstances a husband's feelings must be worth dissection.'

      In reply to Mr Holland's modest knock, the door of Miss Bewicke's apartments was opened by a young gentleman well over six feet high, who appeared to be in rather a curious frame of mind.

      'What the deuce do you want?' was his courteous salutation.

      'I want Miss Bewicke.'

      'Oh, you do, do you? then just you come inside.'

      He took Mr Holland by the shoulder, and that individual, although a little surprised at the young gentleman's notion of the sort of reception which it was advisable to accord a friendly visitor, suffered him to lead him to an apartment which was beyond. This was apparently a sitting-room, prettily furnished, particularly with photographs, as is the manner of ladies who are connected with the theatre, and contained a table which was laid for two. The young gentleman still did not release Mr Holland's shoulder. He glared at him instead, and put to him this flattering question, -

      'Are you the blackguard who has been making himself a nuisance about the place this last week and more?'

      Mr Holland's reply was mild in the extreme.

      'I hope not.'

      'You hope not? What do you mean by that? Don't you know you are?'

      'I do not. I think the mistake, sir, is yours. May I ask who you are? You have your own ideas of how to greet the coming guest. Does Miss Bewicke keep you on the premises in order that you may mete out this kind of treatment to all her friends? You should be popular.'

      'You're no friend of Miss Bewicke's. Don't try to bounce me, sir. I'll tell you in two words who I am. My name's Dumville-Bryan Dumville. Miss Bewicke is shortly to be my wife. As her affianced husband I consider myself entitled to protect her from the impertinent attentions of any twopenny-ha'penny bounder who chooses to think that because she condescends to appear upon the stage of a theatre he is at liberty to persecute her when and how he pleases.'

      'Your sentiments do you credit, Mr Dumville.'

      'Don't try to soft-soap me, sir. You can speak smoothly enough to me; but I will give you ten seconds, before I throw you down the stairs, to explain the meaning of your presence here.'

      'I think, Mr Dumville, that, if I were you, I should make it a little more than ten seconds before, as you put it, you throw me down the stairs. I have come to see Miss Bewicke. I am afraid I can only explain myself to her.'

      'No, you don't. That trick's been played before! It's stale; out you go!'

      'Don't be an ass, sir!'

      'Ass!'

      The epithet seemed to add fuel to the excitable Mr Dumville's flame. Throwing both arms round Mr Holland, trying to lift him off the ground, he proceeded to hustle him towards the door. Mr Holland, unwilling to be treated in quite such unceremonious fashion, displayed a capacity for resistance for which, possibly, the other was unprepared. There was every prospect of a delightful little bout of rough and tumble, when an interruption came.

      'Bryan! what are you doing?'

      The interruption came from a young lady who was standing at the open door.

      CHAPTER IV

      MR HOLLAND FAILS

      A Small young lady, daintily fashioned, with a child-like face. She was charmingly dressed; a big feather boa was round her neck. As she stood there, in spite of the perfection of her attire, she looked more like a child than a woman. The men released each other. Mr Dumville explained.

      'I was only going to throw the fellow down the stairs.'

      'Is that all? And what has'-there was a little hesitation; then the word was softened by a smile-'the fellow done? And who may the fellow be?'

      'I don't know. Some bounder, I suppose.'

      Mr Dumville seemed slightly disconcerted, as if the situation had not quite shaped as he had expected. Mr Holland's hat and stick had fallen to the floor. He stooped to pick them up. When he turned there came an exclamation from the little lady at the door.

      'Guy!'

      'Miss Bewicke.'

      'Whoever would have thought of seeing you? Why, this is Mr Holland, a friend of my childish days.'

      She advanced with a tiny gloved hand held out to him. Mr Dumville, whose hands were in his trouser pockets, seemed disposed to be grumpy.

      'It wasn't my fault; he should have told me.'

      'You hardly gave me an opportunity.'

      'My dear Bryan, I believe you're a little mad; that is, I believe you're a little madder even than I thought you were. Guy, this is Bryan Dumville, a gentleman who thinks that he has claims on me. Bryan, this is Guy Holland, who was a friend of mine when I was quite a little child; and that-how long ago that is!'

      'I don't see how I'm to blame. The porter was talking about the fellow who has been such a nuisance, saying that he has been making himself particularly objectionable to-day, trying to force his way upstairs, and I don't know what; and he added that he was hanging about at that very moment, and if he turned his back he shouldn't be surprised if the blackguard made another try to get at you. I made up my mind that if he did I would give him what for. So, when someone knocked at the door, and I found it was a man, I went for him.'

      'Nothing could be more natural.'

      If Mr Holland's tone was a little dry Mr Dumville did not seem to notice it; but the lady regarded the speaker with laughter lighting all her pretty face.

      'Guy, you must sup with us.'

      'Thank you, I have not long dined.'

      'That doesn't matter; you must eat with us again.' She rang the bell. A maid appeared. 'Bring another plate; Mr Holland will join us at supper.' Miss Bewicke proceeded to remove her outdoor things, handing them to Mr Dumville one by one, talking as she did so. 'Someone told me that you were at the other side of the world-at the North Pole, I think.'

      'Not the North Pole; but I have been to Africa. I only returned last night.'

      'And you came to-day to see me? How perfectly delightful of you.'

      Mr Holland winced. He was conscious that the lady might misapprehend the situation.

      'The fact is, I have something rather important which I wish to say to you.'

      'Indeed? How interesting! I like people to say important things to me. Say it while we're at supper. That is, if it's something Bryan may be allowed to listen to.'

      'If I'm in the way I'll go.'

      Mr