It was all done so quickly that the quadrille party were only just becoming aware that a couple had dropped out; and the non-dancers were beginning to wonder if Miss Oliphant had been taken poorly, when Robert Ratman was writhing in the clutches of his chastiser in the hall.
Mr Armstrong marched straight with his prey to the kitchen.
"Raffles," said he to the footman, "get me a horsewhip." Raffles took in the situation at once, and in half a minute was across at the stable.
As he returned with the whip he met Mr Armstrong in the yard, holding his victim much as a cat would hold a rat, utterly indifferent to his oaths, his kicks, or his threats.
"Thanks," said the tutor, as he took the whip; "go in and shut the door.
Now, sir, for you!" "Touch me if you dare!" growled Ratman; "it will be the worse for you and every one.

Do you know who I am! I'm--I'm,"-- here he pulled himself up and glared his enemy in the face--"_I'm Roger Ingleton_!" It spoke worlds for the tutor's self-possession that in the start produced by this announcement he did not let his victim escape.

It spoke still more for his resolution that, having heard it, he continued his horsewhipping to the bitter end before he replied-- "Whoever you are, sir, that will teach you how to behave to a lady." "You fool!" hissed Ratman, with an oath, getting up from the ground; "you'll be sorry for this.

I'll be even with you.

I'll ruin you.