“It’s a lie—a miserable lie!” yelled Peace, poking his face forward towards the speaker, and making a hideous grimace.
“Are you mad? What on earth possesses you?” inquired the other.
“Haven’t you just left Miss Maitland?” cried Peace.
“Suppose I have—what’s that to you?”
“Oh—oh—what is it to me! Why, only this—she looked with eyes of favour on me until you set her against me.”
“Looked with favour on you!” said Gatliffe, with ineffable disgust. “Me set her against you? Why, Peace, you are beside yourself. Listen. I have known the Maitlands for years; and, long before you set eyes upon either, was the accepted suitor of the daughter. And neither you nor any other man shall come between me and Aveline Maitland—not even a peer of the realm.”
“Don’t you fancy you’re going to carry it off with a high hand, you despicable, crawling reptile!” exclaimed Peace, in a paroxysm of rage. “There’s not a word of truth in what you’ve been saying. I know full well who I have to thank for turning her against me—you, none but you.”
With these words he rushed at Gatliffe like a wild beast. He wound his fingers around his throat and endeavoured to throttle him.
In his fury he foamed at the mouth; and, had he been possessed of a weapon, doubtless something serious would have happened.
Gatliffe was a tall, athletic young man, who, in fair fight, would be able to overcome Peace with the greatest ease.