“And that was your own fault, my dear sir,” said he, as he brushed himself.  “You never showed me a whit of consideration, which is very dear to men in my position.”

My head swam.  Then I saw Dolly by the door regarding me curiously, with something of a smile upon her lips, but anxiety still in her eyes.  With a “by your leave, ma’am,” to her, Mr. Allen took the chair abreast me.

“You have but to call me when you wish, Richard,” said she.

“Nay, Dorothy, Mr. Allen can have nothing to say to me that you may not hear,” I said instantly.  “And you will do me a favour to remain.”

She sat down without a word, where I could look at her.  Mr. Allen raised his eyebrows at the revelation in our talk, but by the grace of God he kept his mouth shut.

“And now, Mr. Allen,” I said, “to what do I owe the pain of this visit?”

“The pain!” he exclaimed, and threw back his head and gave way to a fit of laughter.  “By the mass! your politeness drowns me.  But I like you, Richard, as I have said more than once.  I believe your brutal straight-dealing has more to do with my predilection than aught else.  For I have seen a deal of rogues in my day.”

“And they have seen a deal of you, Mr. Allen.”

“So they have,” he cried, and laughed the more.  “Egad, Miss Dorothy, you have saved all of him, I think.”  Then he swung round upon me, very careless.  “Has your Uncle Grafton called to express his sympathies, Richard?” he asked.

That name brought a cry out of my head, Dolly seizing the arm of her chair.

“Grafton Carvel in London?” I exclaimed.

“Ay, in very pretty lodgings in Jermyn Street, for he has put by enough, I’ll warrant you, despite the loss of his lands.  Your aunt is with him, and his dutiful son, Philip, now broken of his rank in the English army.  They arrived, before yesterday, from New York.”

“And to what is this an introduction?” I demanded.

“I merely thought it strange,” said Mr. Allen, imperturbably, “that he had not called to inquire after his nephew’s health.”

Dolly was staring at him, with eyes wide open.

“And pray, how did he discover I was in London, sir?” I said.  “I was about to ask how you knew of it, but that is one and the same thing.”

He shot at me a look not to be solved.

“It is not well to bite the hand that lifts you out of the fire, Richard,” said he.

“You had not gained admission to this house were I not on my back, Mr. Allen.”

“And that same circumstance is a blessing for you,” he cried.

’Twas then I saw Dorothy making me mute signals of appeal.

“I cannot think why you are here, Mr. Allen,” I said.  “When you consider all the harm you have done me, and all the double-dealing I may lay at your door, can you blame me for my feelings?”

“No,” he answered, with more soberness than he had yet used; “I honour you for them.  And perchance I am here to atone for some of that harm.  For I like you, my lad, and that’s God’s truth.”