“But then—­what of Spike?”

“Oh, drat him!  If Arthur ain’t got the horse sense to know who’s his worst enemy, he ain’t worth a clean man riskin’ his life over—­for it would be your life you’d risk, Mr. Geoffrey—­mark my words!”

“Mrs. Trapes, your anxiety on my account flatters me, also I’m glad to know you think me a clean man.  But all men must take risks—­some for money, some for honour, and some for the pure love of it.  Personally, I rather like a little risk—­just a suspicion, if it’s for something worth while.”

“Mr. Geoffrey, what are you gettin’ at?”

“Well, I would remind you that Spike has—­a sister!”

“Ah!” said Mrs. Trapes, and her lined face took on a sudden anxious expression.

“Therefore, I’ve been contemplating—­er—­tackling Mr. M’Ginnis—­at a proper and auspicious time, of course.”

“An’ what o’ the gang?”

“Oh, drat the gang, Mrs. Trapes.”

“But you don’t mean as you’d fight M’Ginnis?”

“Well—­er—­the thought has occurred to me, Mrs. Trapes, though I’m quite undecided on the matter, and—­er—­I believe my breakfast is burning!”

“My land!” ejaculated Mrs. Trapes, turning to snatch the pan from the stove, “I’m afraid the fire’s ketched it a bit, Mr. Geoffrey—­”

“No matter.”

“An’ now there’s the coffee b’ilin’ over!”

“Let me help you,” said Ravenslee, rising.

“Anyway, your breakfast’s ready, so come an’ eat it while it’s good an’ hot.”

“On condition that you eat with me.”

“What, eat wi’ you, Mr. Geoffrey—­in my best parlour—­an’ me in me workin’ clo’es?”

“Ah, to be sure—­not to be thought of, Mrs. Trapes; then we’ll breakfast here in the kitchen.”

“Would ye mind?”

“Should love it.”

So down they sat together, and Ravenslee vowed the ham was all ham should be and the eggs beyond praise.  And when his hunger was somewhat appeased, Mrs. Trapes leaned her bony elbows on the table and questioned him.

“You ain’t ever spoke to Hermy, have you, Mr. Geoffrey?”

“Very often, lately.”

“I mean—­you ain’t opened your ’eart to her—­matrimonially, have you?”

“No!”

“Why, then, I’ll tell you what—­there’s been times when I’ve been afraid that for the sake o’ that b’y she’d sacrifice herself to Bud M’Ginnis.”

“No, she would never do that, Mrs. Trapes.”

“Oh, but she would.”

“But, you see, she couldn’t!”

“And why not?”

“Oh, well, because—­er—­I should kill him first.”

“Land sakes, Mr. Geoffrey!” and Mrs. Trapes actually blenched before the glare in his eyes that was so strangely at odds with his soft, lazy tones.

“And that ends it!” he nodded.  “Mrs. Trapes, I’ve made up my mind!”

“What about?”

“Mr. M’Ginnis.  I’ll begin to-day.”

“Begin what?”