A Blot on the Scutcheon

by Mabel Winifred Knowles

"It is I who should ask that. I hear that our good Moreece has become indeed a Marquis."

"One born out of time then, though it is true that Conyers was ready to play the fool. However, there is no reason to be anxious; I have already settled matters with him."

"You——?"

"He will not trouble us again any more than poor Steenie here."

Lord Denningham was smiling, but Marcel Trouet wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Bon, bon. You are a patriot, my friend."

"And now——?"

"Well, it will be clear sailing, as you call it in England. The men of Varenac did not see the dear Moreece?"

"Not a glimpse. They are waiting still."

"Excellent. Ah, ciel! what an idea! We shall have no trouble with these blockheads, who are sometimes difficult. You, my dear milord, will be Marquis, or—still better—the Citizen Varenac."