At Love's Cost

Mr. Falconer looked round sharply as Stafford stood at his elbow.

"Eh? Whiskey? Oh, yes, thanks, I have some," he said.

As Stafford returned to the billiard-room, Falconer nodded after him.

"Is the son in this?" he asked, sharply.

"Oh, no," replied the baron, with a smile. "He knows nothing; he ees

too young, too--vat do you say?--too vashionable, frivolous. No, Sir

Stephen doesn't bring him in at all. You understand? He is ze

ornamental, shleeping' pardner, eh?" And he chuckled.

Falconer nodded, and leaning forward, continued the conversation in a

low voice. The men went off to bed one by one, and presently only Sir

Stephen, Stafford and Falconer remained; and as the latter rose as if

to retire, Sir Stephen laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't go yet! I should like to have a little chat with you--about old

times."

Falconer sank into his seat again and took a fresh cigar, and Stafford

left them.