"Over whom you have no authority; he is of age and you cannot make him your slave. As to the rest, I'll take care that everyone in the village knows the story and you'll be drummed out of the place as the scoundrel you are."

Clever as he was, Beaumont saw Patience held the trump card, so suddenly forsook his dictatorial manner and spoke blandly.

"Very well, I'll say nothing to him at all just now."

"You'll never say anything to him," she said sternly. "Stay in this village if you like, but do not dare to reveal my secret to Reginald Blake--if you do it will be the worse for you; I'm not going to have him ruined for life by your treachery."

"But, Patience--my own son."

"Bah!" she snarled, turning on him viciously, "don't talk like that to me--a scoundrel you were and a scoundrel you are--don't touch me, don't come near me, but breathe one word of my secret and as sure as there's a God above us I'll do what I say."

Beaumont made a step forward as if to seize her, but with a gesture of loathing she drew her dress around her and fled away into the darkness leaving him standing alone by the river. He remained silent for a few moments then his brow cleared and he resumed his nonchalant manner, though his face still remained pale and haggard.

"My son Reginald," he said, lightly rolling a cigarette, "I had no idea of such luck. Ah, you she cat, I'll cut your claws yet; I'll make money out of the voice yet, in spite of your threats my fine madame."

Suddenly a thought struck him as he lighted his cigarette and he laughed softly.

"Good heavens!" he said with a shrug. "I admire Miss Challoner, so does he--it appears," continued Mr. Beaumont sauntering away; "then I'm the rival of my own son."

CHAPTER XI.

MR. BEAUMONT MAKES A DISCOVERY.

When one is playing in the game of life 'Tis wrong to throw away a single card, Lest by some odd mistake of circumstance The card despised--if played with dext'rous hand-- Should gain an unexpected victory.

When Basil Beaumont came to think over things, it struck him as somewhat strange that Patience should have voluntarily told him a secret, for the concealment of which she had several excellent reasons. Firstly, she 

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