She was a mild-natured woman, and the realistic conjuring up of
gore-dripping tassels and bloody shirts upset her, and she desired to
get away. She also saw that Dick was abnormally excited, and suspected
that he had been drinking. Her delicate senses shrank from drunkenness.

"You must tell the story," cried Viviette. "It's so romantic. You like
romantic things, Katherine. The great-grandfather was a Dick Ware
too--Wild Dick Ware they used to call him. Go on, Dick."

Dick paused for a moment. He had a curious, dull, befogged sensation of
being compelled to do things independently of volition. Presently
he spoke.

"It happened in this very room, a hundred years ago. Lord Estcombe and
my great-grandfather were friends--intimate friends from boyhood. Wild
Dick Ware was madly in love with a girl who had more or less become
engaged to him. Now, it came to his knowledge that Lord Estcombe had
been using blackguard means to win away the girl's affections. And one
day they were here"--he moved a pace or two to one side--"just as Austin
and I are now. And the girl over there--"

Viviette, with a gay laugh, took up her position on the spot to which he
pointed.

"Just in this identical place. I know the story--it's lovely!"

"An old Peninsula comrade of Wild Dick Ware's was here too--a man called
Hawkins--"

"Katherine shall be Hawkins," cried Viviette.