a lining of pale blue velvet, lay two small sharp instruments of
steel, very highly polished. He lifted one, felt its point, replaced
it, set down the case on the carpet, and fell to toying with the ears
of the Gordon setter, which had come sniffing out of curiosity.

"You're a very obstinate man," said Squire Moyle. After a long pause
he added, "I suppose you're wanting odds?"

"Evens will do," said Sir Harry.

The old man turned and rang the bell.

"Tell Jim to fetch in the red cock," he shouted to the wall-eyed
footman--who must have been waiting in the corridor, so promptly he
appeared.

"And Jim won't be long about it either," whispered Honoria. She had
come forward quietly, and stood at Taffy's elbow.

Sir Harry shook a finger at her and laid it on his lips. But the old
Squire did not hear. He sat glum, pulling a whisker and keeping a
sour eye on the bird, which was strutting about in rather foolish
bewilderment at the pink peonies on the carpet.

"I'm giving you every chance," he grumbled at length.

"Oh, as for that," Sir Harry replied, equably, "have it out in the
yard, if you please, on your own dunghill."

"No. Indoors is bad enough."