‘Do you want to murder the man, sir; to murder him?’ said the stout gentleman over his shoulder, speaking solemnly into his very ear.

‘I don’t care,’ said Frank, struggling manfully but uselessly.  ’Let me out, I say; I don’t care—­don’t let him go, Harry, whatever you do.’

‘He has got it prettily tidily,’ said Harry; ’I think that will perhaps do for the present.’

By this time there was a considerable concourse.  The club steps were crowded with members; among whom there were many of Mr Moffat’s acquaintance.  Policemen now flocked up, and the question arose as to what should be done with the originators of the affray.  Frank and Harry found that they were to consider themselves under a gentle arrest, and Mr Moffat, in a fainting state, was carried into the interior of the club.

Frank, in his innocence, had intended to have celebrated this little affair when it was over by a light repast and a bottle of claret with his friend, and then to have gone back to Cambridge by the mail train.  He found, however, that his schemes in this respect were frustrated.  He had to get bail to attend at Marlborough Street police-office should he be wanted within the next two or three days; and was given to understand that he would be under the eye of the police, at any rate until Mr Moffat should be out of danger.

‘Out of danger!’ said Frank to his friend with a startled look.  ’Why I hardly got at him.’  Nevertheless, they did have their slight repast, and also their bottle of claret.

On the second morning after this occurrence, Frank was again sitting in that public room at the Tavistock, and Harry was again sitting opposite to him.  The whip was not now so conspicuously produced between them, having been carefully packed up and put away among Frank’s other travelling properties.  They were so sitting, rather glum, when the door swung open, and a heavy quick step was heard advancing towards them.  It was the squire; whose arrival there had been momentarily expected.

‘Frank,’ said he—­’Frank, what on earth is all this?’ and as he spoke he stretched out both hands, the right to his son and the left to his friend.

‘He has given a blackguard a licking, that is all,’ said Harry.

Frank felt that his hand was held with a peculiarly warm grasp; and he could not but think that his father’s face, raised though his eyebrows were—­though there was on it an intended expression of amazement and, perhaps, regret—­nevertheless he could not but think that his father’s face looked kindly at him.

‘God bless my soul, my dear boy! what have you done to the man?’

‘He’s not a ha’porth the worse, sir,’ said Frank, still holding his father’s hand.

‘Oh, isn’t he!’ said Harry, shrugging his shoulders.  ’He must be made of some very strong article then.’

’But my dear boys, I hope there’s no danger.  I hope there’s no danger.’