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This text has been proofread but is not guaranteed to be free from errors. Corrections to the original text have been left in place.
Title: Secrets of a Private Enquiry Office, an electronic edition
Author: Corbett, George Mrs.
Publisher: George Routledge and Sons
Place published: London
Date: 1891
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SECRETS OF A PRIVATE ENQUIRY OFFICE Advert in front of Corbett's "Secrets of a Private Enquiry Office"SECRETS OF A PRIVATE ENQUIRY OFFICE Being  TALES WEIRD AND TALES GHOSTLY TALES HUMOROUS AND TALES PATHETIC  TALES EXCITING AND TALES CURIOUS By  MRS. GEORGE CORBETT AUTHOR OF "PHARISEES UNVEILED," "NEW AMAZONIA," "THE MISSING NOTE," "CASSANDRA," ETC. LONDON:GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITEDBROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL  GLASGOW, MANCHESTER AND NEW YORK1891 London  BRADBURY, AGNEW. & CO. LIMD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.Table of contents in Corbett's "Secrets of a private enquiry office"SECRETS OF A PRIVATE ENQUIRY OFFICEINTRODUCTION"AND now, what do you mean to do for a living?" inquired Bob White, an old chum in whose company I had participated in more than one curious scene, and who, like myself, had begun to find the struggle for existence more desperate than he had bargained for. We were tolerably similar in disposition, except that in every quality, good or bad, to which I could lay claim, Bob was "a good deal more so."Even his misfortunes were bigger than mine, and when we had both changed our last shilling, he had not a decent coat to his back, while my wardrobe was still tolerably extensive and whole.''I don't know," I replied, "I've tried all sorts of trades, good, bad, and indifferent, and have simply proved my incompetence to dabble in any one of them. Suppose we strike out a new line, in which we can share work, expense, and profit?'"Not a bad idea," was Bob's comment, "but it seems to me that as my condition is literally 'ex pence,' it wouldn't require a bad 'prophet,' to predict that for the present, 'work,' of which I am not particularly fond, is all there will be to share.""For my part," I rejoined testily, for I was in no mood for trifling, "I think you are an ass to talk in that strain, and I think also that I have hit upon an idea that will be just the thing for us. Suppose we open a 'Private Enquiry Office?' There are some good plums to be picked up in that line.""I think not. Of what use would an ass be in that business?"Bob was evidently nettled, but was easily mollified, so I smoothed his ruffled plumage by smiling, and remarking, "You could keep me in order, and as you know that everybody says you are far cleverer than I am, my hasty sayings on the subject are of no value."The next hour was spent in discussing the probabilities in favour of another Enquiry Office being able to obtain a footing. The worst difficulty in our eyes was the fact that neither of us had been in the police force, and we knew of the existing predilection in favour of men who have had experience in that direction. But Bob solved this knotty problem by declaring that he was really and truly a detective. "For," he continued, "more than two years ago I detected the first grey hair in the head of my richest maiden aunt. To have detected anything indicating approaching old age was in her eyes an unpardonable offence. I was banished from her good graces and her will forthwith. A month ago she died, and left me not even the proverbial bob."To recount all the conversations and reminiscences which interlarded our arrangements would prove wearisome to the reader, so I will simply mention that Bob managed to raise a couple of new suits by undertaking to pay an exorbitant price for them six months after date.We then rented a very shabbily-furnished office, with a partition running across the middle of it. The rent had to be paid quarterly, so we had three months to work in. A certain relative of mine, who was about tired of my perpetual ill-luck, guaranteed six months' rent, if we did not pay it ourselves, and made me a present of five pounds, intimating at the same time that I need expect no more help from him.With one pound of this tiny fund, we renovated our office in fine style. There was a swing door in the middle of the partition, and the whole lot was covered with cheap wall-paper. We removed this paper, and panelled both door and partition wall so cleverly with beading, that it looked first-rate when painted in two harmonious dark colours. The rest of the front office we painted to match, but did not care to do too much to brighten the office desk and stools, as we wanted to look as old established as possible. There were three chairs in the place, and these we put in the front part of the office, after painting them, for the benefit of the clients we hoped to see shortly.There was a coal-closet in one corner, nearly opposite to the window. Upon the door of this, Bob, who borrowed some stencil-plates for the purpose, painted in conspicuous white letters—"Private. Mr. White." The partition-door was adorned in similar fashion with my name. We mended the Venetians and repainted them, but did not clean the windows, as the obscurity caused by the dustiness of the panes was deemed by us to be rather favourable to the position we intended to assume of busy, hard-worked agents.The space behind the partition was dimly lighted by a window overlooking a back slum, and contained a bed, a table, two chairs, and a few indispensable odds and ends. Here we dined and slept, this being in very truth a private room, into which not even our most profitable clients, if we got any, were to be allowed to penetrate.A big brass plate, on which was inscribed "Messrs. Bell and White, Private Enquiry Agents," was affixed to the outer door, and then our preliminary preparations were completed. Another of my sovereigns had also melted away by this time. Bob would have spent the remainder in advertising, but this I would not permit, as I could not see how we were to rub along without something to eat till clients came.After we had sat and waited about a week without the slightest sign of a customer, I bethought myself of a plan, which I decided to carry out forthwith. Telling Bob to look out for a couple of red-herrings, to serve as a fillip to our exceedingly frugal mid-day meal, and to be careful to boil them, instead of broiling them, lest a client should come in and scent them, I sallied out to try my fortune in another direction.By dint of a great deal of patience and perseverance, I managed to get some penny-a-lining to do, on condition that I accepted advertisements, re "Bell and White's Agency," in lieu of other payment. On my way back I noticed a man with a cart who was buying old paper, and from him I purchased for a mere trifle some ancient and obsolete directories and guides. These, together with a couple of large almanacks, and an old chart which I picked up would, I rightly conjectured, give our office a becomingly business-like air, and the age of the directories did not matter much at present, for we did not intend to let any one but ourselves look into them, while, if real business turned up, we could avail ourselves of the facilities for gaining information offered by the various Public Libraries.The months passed on, and though our advertisements procured us some clients, we were really so devoid of experience, and so fearfully cramped for want of a little ready money, that we seriously contemplated relinquishing the most determined stand we had yet made against persistent ill-luck.Just at this juncture relief and prosperity came to us in a most unexpected manner. A certain detective, who had allowed himself to be entangled in some doubtful transactions connected with the turf, came to our office one day, and proposed to go into partnership with us. "I have," he said, "a great deal of experience; can scent a good case as well as any one; have been fool enough to kill my own chances of ever doing anything more in the force; and I have three hundred pounds in hand. You have got an established business, but it is doing badly for want of the very elements I can add to it. I propose therefore to go into partnership with you. I will put £ or more, if necessary, into the concern. It would not pay to introduce my name publicly into it, so the style and title would remain the same. I should, however, expect to direct all future operations, and to be accorded implicit obedience in all matters requiring the technical judgment which I know I can use profitably. Now, sirs, what say you?"What could we say? It did not do to fall round this man's neck and embrace him, but Bob and I both realized that our worst troubles were ended, and the terms of partnership were agreed upon, written, and signed within the next half-hour. That night the two senior partners indulged in the best supper they had had for months.From that time our business prospered steadily, and within two years we were fairly on the road to fortune. Our new partner, whom for diplomatic reasons I will call Mr. Jones, was the heart and soul of the business, although I can truthfully say that Bob and myself fully deserved the third share of the profits which we each received, for, under Jones's direction, we took our fair share of the hard work which sometimes fell to the lot of the firm, and we never once disputed the chiefs authority. In course of time many interesting and romantic cases came under our notice. These, subject to alterations of dates and names of persons or places, I propose to submit for the approval of readers' and I do not doubt that they will agree with me, that the realms of fact disclose as startling dramas as have ever graced the pages of fiction."THE MISSING BRIDE"ONE morning a gentleman entered our office whose distracted air showed that he had not merely a case for us to unravel, but that its immediate and satisfactory solution was of terrible import to him."Your chief," he gasped, sinking into the nearest chair, and wiping the dews of excitement from his brow. "I must see your chief at once.""And in what way can I serve you, sir?" asked Jones, in his inimitable manner, which, if fortune had chanced to pitch him somewhat higher in the social scale, would have stood him in admirable stead in the most delicate branches of diplomatic work.The new-comer scrutinized him anxiously and carefully for a moment or two, and then replied, "I am Mr. Horace Jenkins, of the firm of Jenkins and Lobb, Gracechurch Street. Yesterday 1 was married. Soon afterwards my wife disappeared in the most mysterious manner. I am sure something dreadful must have befallen her. I am almost distracted, and am utterly incapable of adopting efficient means for her recovery. I have heard that yours is a reliable firm, and I will pay you well if you restore my wife to me.""We will do our best, Mr. Jenkins," responded the chief. "Perhaps you will kindly place a few facts at our disposal. Who was the lady before she became your wife?""She, a—well—a—she was a Miss Ivy Stanton, and there is not a handsomer woman in London.""Young, of course?" suggested Jones, glancing over the corpulent, bald, red-faced, fifty-year-old individual in front of him."Oh, yes, young," agreed Mr. Jenkins; "young, not more than twenty-four, and, as I said before, very beautiful.""Just so," commented Jones, as he jotted this information down in his note-book." Young—beautiful—endowed with a pretty name too. You will excuse my ignorance, sir, as we are not fashionable people, but was Miss Ivy Stanton very well known in Society?""Well—a—no. I cannot say that she was. She had only recently come over from America, you see, and had not had time to be very well known.""Did she come from America alone?""Oh, no. Her brother was with her. They are orphans, and as their father was unjustly implicated in the Wall Street scandals, and renounced every farthing of his enormous fortune to prove his honesty, their maintenance devolved upon themselves, for the father succumbed to his troubles. Albert Stanton, having good references to friends in London, brought his sister here, and is doing very well.""H'm. I should like Mr. Albert Stanton's address. Have you consulted him about his sister's sudden disappearance?""No, because I know he is not at home at present, and as he is away travelling on business, it might be as difficult for me to find him as to find my wife.""Yes, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if it was so," gravely agreed Jones, who thought he had already got a clue to the mystery. "But I think we shall get on better, if you will tell me the whole story in your own way."Just then another client made his appearance, and Mr. Jenkins, for the sake of greater privacy, was taken into the inner office, which by this time had been cleared of the paraphernalia with which Bob and I inaugurated our reign here, and had been converted into a cosy room, whereof the furniture and fittings were alike comfortable, luxurious, and business-like.Here Mr. Jenkins, seated in a big arm-chair near the stove, narrated his story in a round-about fashion, interlarding it with occasional remarks relative to the accomplishments and fascinations of his wife, which might fatigue the reader, if set down in all their prolixity. I will therefore narrate the principal facts as they were afterwards communicated to me by the chief.Mr. Jenkins was introduced to Miss Ivy Stanton and her brother at the house of Mr. Lobb, his partner, a widower with three marriageable daughters, for one of whom it was desirable in the Lobb interest to secure the hand of Mr. Jenkins in marriage. But if Mr. Jenkins ever halted betwixt two opinions in this connection, it was as to which of the Lobb girls he was most determined not to marry. As, however, he was always polite to them, they had not given up all hope of overcoming his diffidence in the near future, as was amply evidenced by Mr. Lobb's repeated jokes to his partner on the subject.Probably Mr. Lobb thought that by familiarizing Mr. Jenkins with the idea, he might ultimately bring about the event he desired. But whatever chances there might have been at one time, these were ruthlessly extinguished as soon as Miss Ivy Stanton appeared on the scene. What is more, Mr. Lobb had also succumbed to her fascinations, and for the last week, the rival partners had done little work in their office beyond glaring at each other from their respective desks.It seems that the Stantons were lodging at a boarding house which an acquaintance of the Lobbs also made his home, and who had lost his heart to the bewitching Ivy. It transpired later, as a result of Bob's investigations, that this acquaintance, a Mr. Miles, was anxious to escort Miss Ivy to the opera. Miss Ivy promised to go if he would also introduce her to some English people moving in at least moneyed society. She complained of being dull through knowing so few people in London. Miles had an invitation for himself and a "friend"for a party at the Lobbs', and he arranged matters to the satisfaction of all parties by taking a handsome young fellow, and the handsome young fellow's inseparable charge, his sister.The Misses Lobb were not enamoured of the superior charms of Ivy, but Albert was so attentive, so deferential, and so obviously in love, that they tolerated Ivy for his sake, and the pair received repeated invitations to dine or sup with the Lobb family, invitations which they were always magnanimous enough to accept.After Mr. Jenkins made the discovery that his passion for Ivy was shared by Mr. Lobb, he spent a week of terrible anxiety until he learnt from his beauteous idol's lips that he, and he only, had won her heart, and that this earth held no more happiness for her except as his wife. But there were serious obstacles to the fulfilment of their wishes. Albert had taken a strange dislike to Mr. Jenkins, evidently implanted by Mr. Lobb. Lobb himself had proposed marriage to her, and Albert insisted on her accepting him.She had hitherto always followed Albert's advice, but in this case she must follow the dictates of her own heart. How could he expect her to marry a tall, lanky, pale-faced individual like Mr. Lobb? Oh, no, she would die first: but, oh dear, she was terribly nervous. She was quite sure that if Albert were on the scene, she dare not resist his will, &c., &c.The upshot of all this was that a clandestine marriage was arranged. The pair were to drive straight to King's Cross from the church, and, taking the East Coast route, were to proceed to the North of Scotland for their honey-moon. Mr. Jenkins took no one into his confidence except the people with whom it was necessary for him to make arrangements for the wedding.Miss Stanton looked so lovely in anything, that Mr. Jenkins naturally thought her a worthy recipient of all sorts of costly offerings. He had gone through life loving nobody but himself, and steadily increasing his balance at his bankers. Now that he had at last lost his heart, he was all the more lavish in his attentions, and had spent little short of two thousand pounds in jewellery and valuables for his pretty wife.These, together with the rest of her outfit, were packed in some trunks and portmanteau, which Mrs. Jenkins elect said she had had no difficulty in removing without her brother suspecting anything, for he was away just now, and his absence had been chosen as a convenient time wherein to marry.All went well until the pair, having been duly united in wedlock, arrived at King's Cross station. Mr. Jenkins installed his bride in a first-class compartment, and was just getting in himself, when she complained of feeling rather faint, and begged him to get her a cup of coffee. "I was so nervous and excited," she said, "that I could not take any breakfast, and it will be so long before we reach Grantham. It wants twenty minutes to train time. Would you mind just getting me a cup of coffee?"Of course our elderly lover was only too delighted to do anything for the comfort of his own Ivy, and he at once set off to the refreshment room.When he arrived with the coffee, his bride was missing, and, so far, his efforts had failed to trace her. She had disappeared as if by magic, and neither porters nor guard, nor any one else whom he questioned, could give the distracted husband any information. The luggage was lifted out of the train, and now Mr. Jenkins wanted us to help him.Jones had promised to set all the machinery of our huge business into motion, and with that promise the poor man had to go away contented. The chief had asked him if any of the lady's luggage had been unpacked, to which he had replied that it was still in the left-luggage office at the station. He was somewhat inclined to resent Jones' suggestion that he should go straight to King's Cross, and look into the trunks to see if the jewellery was still there. Of course he never doubted that it was still there, but Jones, not being in love, thought otherwise."Anyhow, it can do no harm," he added, "and in any case, so much valuable property would be safer in your own charge. If the jewellery is still there, I shall know what hypothesis to work on, for in that case, the lady must have met with foul play."It was arranged that Jones, after setting some of his subordinates to work, should meet Mr. Jenkins an hour later. The information he obtained at this meeting was exactly what he had suspected—the trunks contained none of the valuable jewellery which had been presented to the artless bride.We had a good deal of work on the carpet just then, and Jones had to go out of town on a little expedition which he preferred to look after himself. He did not trouble to come back to the office from King's Cross, but simply wired—"No assets." We had talked the matter over, and I knew what he meant. On receiving this message, I left Bob White in charge, and set off on a tour of investigation.My first place of call was the address given as the place where the brother and sister lodged. I professed to be on the look-out for lodgings myself, and found that Mrs. Johnson, the landlady, had a sitting-room and two bed rooms to let, just vacated by Mr. Stanton and Miss Stanton, " which were two very nice young people, in their way, and I've seen the brother get as vexed as if he was a husband, for there was always a lot of men after Miss Ivy. I don't think they had a deal of money, but Mr. Stanton very likely expected his sister to make a good match, and, my goodness, didn't she use to get the presents!""And how is it they have left you now, Mrs. Johnson," I put in."Well, sir, and that is more nor I can tell you. It's the first grievance as I've ever had against them, for they have always paid me well. I had no more idea nor the man in the moon that I was going to lose my lodgers. But yesterday morning they both packed all their things up, and came out of their rooms looking for all the world as if they was dressed for a wedding. Then Mr. Albert asks me for my bill, and when I gave it him, all in a fluster, he paid me without a word, except to say as he was very sorry that they both had to leave me, as they were going back to America again. 'And here is a five-pound note to make up for our not giving you notice,' he says, and though I was sorry to lose them, what could I say, and them so liberal?""Nothing much, I suppose," I agreed, "if the note is only a good one.""Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed Mrs. Johnson. "You don't mean it surely?""I have known lots of funnier things than that to happen," I answered. "But anyhow, you can soon solve all doubt by having the note changed. I will tell my wife about the rooms, and I will let you know to night whether she thinks they will suit us or not. Good morning," and off I went, leaving the good woman in a state of perturbation, for, doubt once having entered her mind, she was terribly afraid of having been swindled after all.My next call was made at the residence of Mr. Lobb, and here I found everybody hysterically excited. Mr. Jenkins's hint to the effect that Mr. Lobb was deeply smitten by the charming Ivy was not lost on Jones, and he laid particular emphasis on this part of the story when relating it to me. We felt quite sure that some clue would be obtained here, and I inquired for Mr. Lobb himself, intending to represent myself as an emissary from Jenkins.But I was utterly unprepared for the scene of confusion I found here. The house was like Pandemonium let loose. The servants seemed to be in a state alternating between giggles and tears. The master of the house was shouting to first one and then another in fierce anger, and the oaths with which he interlarded his benisons appeared more indicative of a state of temporary lunacy than aught else.Above all this a woman's shrieks resounded through the house, and I might well wonder what on earth was the matter."Well, sir," yelled Mr. Lobb, glaring at me as if he would like to bite me, "what do you want here?"In spite of Mr. Lobb's fierce aspect and manner I could not help being immediately struck by a peculiarity in his attire. It was decidedly festive. He wore a white waistcoat, light grey trousers, a black coat, and a lavender tie, just the rig-out, in fact, which I should have expected him to wear at a wedding."Can the fair Ivy be at the bottom of all this commotion?" I wondered to myself.Aloud I said, with an exaggerated assumption of humility—"I am very sorry, Mr. Lobb, if I have called at an inconvenient time. But I have seen Mr. Jenkins this afternoon, and I have come to say that he will not present himself at the office for a day or two. He has had a shock.""So, you have seen Mr. Jenkins, eh? And he has had a shock, eh? It's a very queer thing, for I've had a shock too. An infernal shock, sir! Mr. Jenkins's shock will dwindle into insignificance when I tell you my shock. I was married yesterday, sir, and my bride deserted me an hour after. Now, sir, can Mr. Jenkins's shock come up to that, eh? What the deuce are you staring at, eh?"I might well stare; but if the truth must be told, I stared all the harder to prevent myself from bursting into laughter, even though I could still hear the hysterical shrieks which had greeted my first entry into the house."Well, sir," I said, "your statement is an extraordinary one, and I think I may go so far as to tell you what Mr. Jenkins's shock has been. He was married early yesterday morning to the lady known as Miss Ivy Stanton, and she deserted him an hour after, taking with her a couple of thousand pounds' worth of valuables."My information was so astounding that Mr. Lobb sank into a chair, and contemplated me for a minute or two with speechless astonishment."Well," he said at last, "if she isn't the thunderingest liar, cheat, and thief in creation! Can you guess who my missing bride is, eh, sir?""Miss Ivy Stanton, of course," I replied."You are right, sir, for once in your life, if you never were before. But how the deuce can she be my wife if she's his wife? And how can she be his wife if she's mine? Upon my word it's a consolation to know that I'm not the only old fool in the world."And with this he began to laugh until the tears rolled down his face. But I noted after a bit that the tears were very real ones, and his voice ended in a pitiful sob as he said,—"I wouldn't have cared so much, after all, if it hadn't been for the poor girl,""The poor girl!" I repeated in surprise. "Why, I think that instead of pity she deserves the treadmill!""How dare you speak like that of my daughter?" he yelled, once more roused to fury, hardly appeased by my hasty inquiry,—"Whatever can your daughter have to do with it?""Why, everything," he groaned, his grief once more overcoming him. "Don't you hear how she is taking on? That villain, Albert Stanton, has been making love to her on the sly, and yesterday morning she eloped with him They were married at the church of the parish in which he has been residing, and an hour later he left her in the lurch."Well, of all the complications I had hitherto had to deal with, this was the queerest, I thought, but I saw that no time was to be lost, if the culprits were to be brought to book.It seems that the fascinating Ivy had used somewhat the same arguments which she had brought to bear upon 'Mr. Jenkins. She loved 'Mr. Lobb to distraction, but her brother wanted her to marry Mr. Jenkins, as he had no daughters to make her life uncomfortable, and was, besides, the richest of the two partners. But how could she marry a fat, bald-headed, red-faced man like Mr. Jenkins? Oh, no; she would die first, &C., &c.Mr. Lobb, on his side, anticipating a little objection on the part of his daughters, was very glad to do the thing quietly. So they were married at Mr. Lobb's parish church, and then it was arranged that the happy pair should go to Paris for their honeymoon. But while he was looking after the luggage at Victoria Station the bride disappeared, together with a valise containing some very valuable jewellery which poor Mr. Lobb had bought for her, nor could all his efforts succeed in discovering her.As a matter of fact, she must have got into a cab as soon as his back was turned, and driven straight to keep her appointment with Mr. Jenkins. The marriage ceremony this time was performed at Mr. Jenkins's parish church, both partners having indulged in a special license. Then she had got away from Jenkins, and our next proceeding must be to hunt for her in conjunction with the individual who was supposed to be her brother.Mr. Lobb, unlike Mr. Jenkins, had at once realized that he had been duped, and he had spent the night in wandering about, in a state bordering on distraction. Small consolation awaited him when he got home.His daughter had lost her heart to the handsome Albert, and had yielded to his solicitations that she should elope with him, and thus render futile all the objections to their union which her father was sure to bring forward. He had splendid prospects, he averred, and was going straight back to America, to claim several thousand pounds which his father had owing to him at the time of his death, and which was now in the hands of an agent, awaiting Albert's appearance in New York. Unfortunately, however, he was without funds at present, and as the silly girl possessed a thousand pounds in her own right, she actually gave him a cheque for two hundred of it, to serve until they got to New York.From the church they were driven to the docks, and went aboard a steamer which was to sail by the night tide. The step being once taken, the poor girl had time to realize all its serious consequences, and, at Stanton's suggestion, she at once sat down to write affectionate letters to her father and sisters, asking them to forgive her for leaving them in so secret a manner, and promising to pay a visit to London with "her dear husband" in a month or two, as soon as he had got his affairs arranged to his satisfaction. Ivy, she told them, was to follow them shortly, and they would be able to make her the conveyor of as many kind messages as they would send to "their loving Polly."" There now," said Albert, when the letters were ready, "lie down and rest a little, my darling, while I take these letters ashore, and see them safely posted myself. I will soon be back."But one hour after another passed by, and still the bridegroom did not return, while the forsaken little bride grew momentarily more anxious and miserable. The day wore on, and though she began to feel faint for want of food, she was too sick at heart to eat anything. At nightfall she could no longer control her anxiety, especially as preparations were now being made for sailing.She pictured Albert taken ill, run over, drowned in the dock, anything in fact but a runaway swindling thief. Clearly, however, it would not do to set sail for America without him. So she began to pack up her belongings again, but was shocked to find that a valise, in which she had packed some money and her jewellery, was missing.To make a long story short, she came home next morning, in a distracted condition, which was made worse when she opened and read a letter that Stanton had sent to her. It was as cold-blooded an epistle as ever was penned by man, and it is not surprising that it sent the poor girl into hysterics. "My dear Polly," it ran, "by this time you will have come to the conclusion that our marriage was a hoax. It was just that, and nothing more, for I am a happy benedict already, my wife being known to you as Miss Ivy Stanton. I must say that all the Londoners we have come across are fools, and we have made a good haul among you, for Ivy has wedded both your father and his partner, and juggled a few thousands out of them. When next you get an admirer, see that you don't become his banker, and remember that you are free to marry any man that will have you."Poor Polly's subsequent history is soon told. She died a month later.Of course all the machinery of the law was set in motion at once, and I am glad to say that this daring couple were run to earth shortly after this affair, traced by means of Polly's watch, which they had endeavoured to pawn. They were given seven years each in which to meditate upon these and sundry other iniquities which were brought home to them.Mrs. Johnson, the lodging-house keeper, was also a victim of theirs, having been paid in flimsies.Mr. Jenkins and Mr. Lobb, who at one time threatened to drift into enmity, are now fast friends, Mr. Jenkins being married to Mr. Lobb's second daughter, and a lucky man he is to get such a good wife.BROTHERLY LOVEIN the year 1876, a little, feeble, elderly lady entered our office, and requested our aid in a matter that was troubling her greatly. She was dressed in a quaint, old-fashioned style that became her exceedingly, and was about as pretty and interesting-looking a creature as one ever sees at her age, although it was only too evident that her hold upon life was getting very weak. She went into her story with more clearness and conciseness than our clients usually displayed, and we soon had the whole case at our fingerends.It seems that the old lady, whose name we will alter to Mrs. Sargent, had two nephews, of whom she was very fond, and both lived with her at Akbar Grange, in one of the Northern suburbs. The lads were twins, were orphans, just twenty, and had hitherto given no trouble. They were both intended for the mercantile profession, were both employed in the same office, and both showed great ability.But of late certain difficulties and complications had arisen, which proved too great for Mrs. Sargent to cope with unaided. Certain books in Mr. Huntley's office had been tampered with. Accounts were falsified, and money was missing. Suspicion pointed to Ralph Brewis, for he had been seen spending more money of late than the small salary allowed him warranted.The money was certainly spent over a very innocent hobby, but this did not alter the fact that the wherewithal to indulge this hobby seemed to have been obtained dishonestly. Before saying anything to either of the lads, Mr. Huntley, who was an old friend of the family, had an interview, which was necessarily very painful, with Mrs. Sargent. The grief of the poor lady was intense, but she begged that a little more care might be used in the investigations, before so terrible a charge was laid at the door of her nephew. She hoped that the real culprit would be discovered, and steadfastly refused to believe that either of "her boys" could be such a scoundrel as to turn thief.That evening Ralph came home burdened with a large parcel, which he placed tenderly upon a sideboard, saying, "I will unpack you after I have had my dinner. My impatience to look at you again can wait awhile.""And pray what precious thing have you got now?" inquired Lawrence, or, as he was more familiarly called, Lance."The loveliest copy of Shakespeare ever you saw," answered Ralph.Ralph promised to be a thorough bookworm, and never seemed so happy as when adding a new work to his private collection of books. His aunt had always taken a pride in his hobby, and had often encouraged it by the timely present of some book which she had heard him covet.But the time had come when Ralph's apparently harmless fancy filled her heart with dread and foreboding. She trembled with excitement when she heard him praise his new acquisition, for she knew very well that he could have no adequate sum in his possession to represent the value of a costly edition of Shakespeare.She was so nervous, and had such a poor appetite at dinner, that her nephews both noticed it, and were very solicitous in their inquiries about her health, for they both loved her devotedly. She, however, protested that there was nothing the matter with her, and Ralph at least was soon entirely engrossed in the delight of showing his new treasure.He was quite right. The work was superbly got up, but this was a fact which gave his aunt more uneasiness than pleasure, for it but emphasized the possibility of his really being deserving of the suspicion cast upon him by Mr. Huntley."Very grand, Raphie," commented Lance; "and pray, what's the figure? if it is not considered impertinence on my part to ask?""Well, the figure was rather stiff for me," answered Ralph, "I gave seven pounds ten for the set.""Seven pounds ten!" said Lance, opening his eyes wide with surprise. "Why, where on earth do you get all your money from, old fellow? It's only the other day that you invested in a complete edition of Scott's works. I don't envy you your possessions, but I confess I would like to know where you get hold of the money to indulge your fad."Mrs. Sargent grew sick with disappointment, and could no longer fight against the conviction that her favourite nephew must indeed be guilty, when she saw how he flushed under his brother's questions, and how unable he seemed to account satisfactorily for his possession of so much pocket money."Well, really," he said at last, "I'm not sure that I ought to constitute you my father confessor. Anyhow, I am not inclined to do so just now.""Oh, very well," said Lance, with a natural spice of anger in his tone. "It is just as you like, of course, and I will be careful another time not to fancy that being your brother entitles me to ask impertinent questions," and with this, Master Lance left the room in a huff, without giving his brother time to make a rejoinder.But Mrs. Sargent felt it to be her duty to inquire more carefully into the matter, and stopped Ralph, as he was about to leave the room with the books that were the cause of the little unpleasantness that had occurred. She knew that in five minutes more the brothers would be reconciled, for although they were both somewhat hasty, they could not bear to be at enmity with each other. But she decided that a reconciliation of this simple kind could wait, and her tone when she addressed her nephew was so grave that he was very much surprised."Ralph, I insist upon knowing where you have obtained the money for all your recent purchases."Ralph looked at her in wonderment, as he replied, "Why, Aunt Bessie, you surely do not attach any importance to Lance's question? If you do, I am sorry to disappoint you, for I must repeat that at present I would much rather not enter into explanations. I have a fancy to keep my secret a while longer.""And what if your secret is a disgraceful one?" asked the old lady, with quivering lips, which surely must have wrung the secret from him, had he either been guilty of the crime of which he was suspected, or not been stung into bitterness by the offensive import of his aunt's last question."And since when, Aunt Bessie, have you learned to believe that I would disgrace myself by harbouring a guilty secret?"As he made this proud demand, he looked so handsome, and so honest, that his aunt for a moment felt sure of his innocence. But then the painful conviction that in that case he could have no possible reason for secrecy forced itself upon her.Not all her arguments, however, could induce Ralph to take her into his confidence. He was always somewhat headstrong, although of an affectionate and kind-hearted disposition, and where his pride seemed to demand it, he could show a firm enough front. On this occasion, however, he protested that his secret was not much of a secret after all, but that, since the keeping of it was actually causing his own aunt to utter words that were tantamount to an accusation of dishonesty, he would scorn to defend himself, and would trust to time alone to recover his former position in her esteem.The poor lady knew not what to do, and spent the greater part of the night in weeping. The next morning Ralph greeted her very soberly, and said that as she had evidently lost confidence in him, he had better seek a home elsewhere. But she thought that if he had indeed fallen into evil courses, no place could be so safe for him as home with her, and she begged him so earnestly not to think of leaving her, that he finally promised to stay at the Grange."But mind, auntie," he said, gravely, "I feel terribly hurt by such a dreadful doubt as you have expressed, and you really must recall it.""I cannot," was the sorrowful reply, "until you have given me the explanation I asked, and am so anxious for.""Very well," he answered, "I shall know what to do. Good morning," and with that, he walked out of the house, and down the road towards the station, at a speed and in a fashion which were both indicative of either real or simulated virtuous indignation.She confided her trouble to Lance, except as regarded yesterday's visit from Mr. Huntley and its cause. Lance had therefore not her reasons for doubt and dread, and simply laughed at the idea of Ralph ever being guilty of anything disreputable." We have not seen much of him after dinner for several months now," he said, "but you may depend upon it, that his time while away from us has been honourably employed. As for him being too indignant to confide in you, I think that was quite natural; and now I come to think of it, I begin to feel rusty myself, for you would just as easily have suspected me.""Oh, don't you leave me in anger, too," pleaded the poor old lady, whereat her nephew called her a "dear old duck," kissed her affectionately, and ran out of the house, having barely time to catch his train.Left to herself, Mrs. Sargent pondered as to the best course to be taken, and finally resolved to seek our aid in solving the mystery which enveloped her nephew's doings. Her object was, if it proved that he was guilty, to indemnify the employer, and by bringing Ralph's delinquencies home to him in a gentle manner, to induce him to turn over a new leaf. She thought that for her sake her old friend Mr. Huntley would be induced to hush the affair up, though, of course, Ralph's situation would be forfeited."Well, madam, I will tell you what I think of the affair," said Jones, when he had heard her patiently to the end of her story. "It seems to me that you are jumping too hastily at conclusions. Your nephew, you say, has never shown an inclination to be a wild shaver. The time which he has spent away from you this last year may have been very legitimately employed. He may be earning money in a quiet way, which he has perfectly jusifiable reasons for keeping a secret for the time being. If his hobby is book collecting, it is scarcely consistent with dishonest and dis-reputable courses, and the chances are ten to one that when we have found out how he spends his spare time, we shall at the same time prove something more to his credit than otherwise.""But how do you account for his persistent refusal to confide in me, when he has seen how anxious I am?" asked the old lady."Nothing easier," responded Jones. "To a fine, highspirited lad nothing could be more enraging than the insinuation that he could be guilty of a misdemeanour; and as your told him nothing of the defalcations which have been going on in the office, or of Mr. Huntley's suspicions, I do not see how he could help feeling hurt. Besides, if he had been guilty, he would have had his excuse pat enough, and would have been only too ready to give an apparently satisfactory account of his mode of obtaining the money with which he seems so flush.""I do hope you are right," ejaculated Mrs. Sargent; "and I shall be very, very grateful if you can get to the bottom of this mystery, and prove that my boy has nothing to do with the robberies that have been going on. But how do you account for the betting cards which Mr. Huntley says must have dropped out of Ralph's pocket?""Planted, of course. Whoever is to blame, is sure to try and fix suspicion on somebody else. Anyhow, we will do our best in the matter," and on this understanding the old lady went away."Suppose you fix yourself where you can keep your eye on Mr. Huntley's clerks during the dinner hour, and later on, if necessary," said Jones to me; and accordingly at twelve o'clock I was critically examining the stock of a jeweller, whose shop-window adjoined the passage down which Mr. Huntley's and other offices were situated.I had not been waiting many minutes when four young men emerged, two of whom I had no difficulty, from the information I already possessed, in recognizing as the Brothers Brewis.Both were fine, handsome lads, and I did not wonder that their aunt should be very fond of them. They were accompanied by a pale, sickly-looking youth, whom one would not credit with the ability to say "bo to a goose." The other was a flashily-dressed young man, with such an unmistakeably turfy look about him, that I at once set him down as the real culprit, for London junior clerks do not earn enough money to indulge honestly in sporting proclivities.The whole quartette adjourned to a restaurant on Ludgate Hill, and as there was no reason why I should not take my own lunch just now, I seated myself at the next table to the one they surrounded, and, apparently absorbed in the perusal of Punch, kept my ears open for the accommodation of such stray scraps of conversation as might enter therein.I heard the turfy individual try to persuade his companions to lay a trifle on the Derby, but with two of them he was unsuccessful. Ralph Brewis laughingly averred that he had other and more sensible ways of spending his money than losing it in betting, and the sickly youth, whose name was Peter Simkins, protested against the wickedness of everything connected with the turf, and urged his fellow-clerks to devote their spare money to more noble uses. Needless to add, he only got laughed at for his pains, and Lance Brewis, with reckless bravado, accepted the odds offered by Morris, staking no less than £5 upon one horse.I saw Ralph look at him in astonishment, and at the same time I noticed that somebody else was taking an interest in these common every-day proceedings, which had not even attracted the attention of the restaurant-keepers. The interested stranger was none other than a detective from the Yard, with whom I was casually acquainted, and whom I at once rightly concluded to be put on the trail by Mr. Huntley.Simkins protested against being made the witness of a betting transaction, and as the lads moved from the table I heard Ralph ask his brother how he came to be possessed of the five-pound note which he had just turned over to Morris."Oh, it's a case of tit for tat, is it?" he inquired laughingly. "You think that I have no more right to a secret hoard than you have. But I got it very easily this morning, and I will perhaps tell you all about it before we go home."Unfortunately for him, however, he had little opportunity for further explanation, for my friend the detective struck while the iron was hot, and before night Lance Brewis found himself locked up, charged with a series of frauds, embezzlements, and petty thefts, which seemed to have been brought home to him in the most convincing manner.Mr. Huntley, bent upon discovering the culprit, left a five-pound note, of which he knew the number, in an unlocked desk, together with some gold and silver money. Before noon the note had disappeared. But the detective caused the note which Morris had received from Lance Brewis to be examined, and it proved to be the identical note which had been stolen that very morning.Nothing could be more convincing, and Mr. Huntley was so enraged, that not even his regard for Mrs. Sargent would induce him to be merciful. He was partially provoked to harshness by the fact that Lance obstinately refused all explanation, and, as none was forthcoming from Morris, I found my suspicions against the latter strengthened all the more.Poor Lance found himself, after weary waiting, consigned to prison for nine months. His aunt and brother left no stone unturned to help him, but, under the circumstances, their efforts were utterly useless. The defalcations in the office having now ceased, the fact of Lance's guilt was all the more surely indicated.Morris did not turn up as usual one morning, and it was found that he had vacated his lodgings, leaving his landlady heavily in debt. I had sought an interview with Mr. Huntley the day after Brewis was first arrested, and had tried to divert his suspicions to Morris, but had failed, and I could not refrain from calling his attention to the fact that Morris was now proved to be dishonest.Poor Mrs. Sargent had been overwhelmed with the troubles that had come upon her, and she could not help thinking that Lance had somehow been sacrificed to his brother, for the latter still kept the secret he had been so reluctant to part with on the night the mischief began.I, however, made it my business to try to get to the bottom of this little mystery, as Mrs. Sargent attached such importance to it, and a very innocent little mystery it proved to be at the finish. I traced him to several editorial offices, and managed to find out that he had not only written and been paid for several neat little articles, but that he actually had a novel in the press.I explained all my discoveries to his aunt, who promised not to disclose the information thus gained, until her nephew should be ready to take her into his confidence. We concluded that he meant to tell her everything on the publication of his book, and that he had only been preparing a pleasant surprise for her. The sequel proved that we were correct, for he soon disclosed all his hopes and fears, presented her with a copy of his new novel, and further gladdened her heart by showing her how it was dedicated "To the best and dearest of aunts, who has been more than a mother to me.""I wanted to give you a huge surprise," he said, "but it has been rather hard to keep my secret at times, especially when you actually doubted my honesty.""Oh, my dear boy," said his aunt, "you do not know how your innocent secret has troubled me, for I could not help thinking that it had something to do with the mystery at Mr. Huntley's. You must forgive me for my want of faith in you, but I have an inward conviction that poor Lance has not been able to avoid sharing my doubts, and that he has in some way sacrificed himself to you.""Good heavens!" exclaimed Ralph, "how could I think that such terrible results would spring from my desire to be something better than a merchant's clerk! I must go and see Lance at once, and will now compel him to explain everything."Nor did he lose much time before setting out to effect his purpose, for, although he had not been dismissed by Mr. Huntley, he very naturally declined to serve him any longer, and was now practically independent of control.Thus the only one of Mr. Huntley's late clerks who had not been replaced by another was Simkins, whose industry and steadiness were much appreciated by his master, and who was rapidly proving himself almost indispensable in the business.The interview between the two brothers disclosed a nobility of soul on the part of at least one of them, which is seldom equalled. Lance heard Ralph's explanation from beginning to end, and then just let his head fall on his hands, and burst into a passion of tears."I cannot help it," he sobbed. "I have never broken down before. While I thought that I was sacrificing myself for you, and saving your good name, I was able to bear up; but it unmans me altogether to think that I have ruined my career and blighted my life for the sake of some dastardly coward who deliberately planned my destruction."And then it all came out. He had been persuaded by Morris to go in for a little betting, and had actually won five pounds, which was paid to him by Morris with the identical five-pound note, which he had afterwards, he thought, returned to him for the purpose of laying it upon another event.He had seen his brother fumbling in his top-coat pocket, but thought nothing of it at the time, as they were often in the habit of helping themselves to a cigarette at each other's expense. When he was arrested and charged with theft, however, he remembered the scene of the night before, and now concluded that Ralph must have changed the notes. The thought was heart-breaking to him that his brother should be such a villain, but he knew that he was their aunt's best beloved nephew, and he determined to sacrifice himself for his brother's sake, feeling that his good old aunt would not suffer so much as if it were Ralph who was incarcerated.Of course fresh efforts were now made to get at the bottom of the mystery, and I once more visited Morris's lodgings, where I found him without further trouble. He had been losing heavily when he decamped, but was now in funds, and had repaid his landlady in full. He corroborated Lance's statement that he had got the note from him earlier in the day."Though I swear," he continued earnestly, "that I had nothing to do with stealing it, and don't know how it came to be the one that Mr. Huntley avers was stolen. Either he had made a mistake about the number, or somebody had changed the notes. When Brewis declined to explain, I concluded that he was the guilty party, and did not care to try and make folks think that I was a thief. However, if, as you seem to think, he had no more to do with the thefts than I had, I will do my best to help to clear him, by proving that he had at least £5 that never belonged to Huntley. I expect I shall get into a mess myself, but it can't be helped; and before you go I don't mind if we drink 'confusion to the guilty, and a clear character for the innocent.'"I thought as I walked homewards that everybody connected with the case had been lamentably slow, for every man jack of us had flown off at a tangent, and we had all suspected an innocent man.But who was the guilty party, after all? Bob was the one to put his finger on the right man. "It's the sanctimonious card that's managed to get clear of all his former fellow-clerks, and has wormed himself into the position of first favourite with Mr. Huntley."Bob was right, as subsequent investigations proved. We managed to bring a lot of things home to Mr. Simkins, but were rather baffled about the fiver, until he confessed that he had seen Morris pay Lance Brewis, and as he had already stolen the note out of Mr. Huntley's desk he managed to find an opportunity of changing the two notes, in order to avert suspicion from himself in the event of the stolen one being traced.We have seen how well he succeeded. Fortunately, his crimes were discovered and punished before irreparable mischief had been done to Lance Brewis, who was of course thoroughly exonerated, and was henceforth held in high honour, as a man who had been prepared to sacrifice all he held dear to his brotherly love. Let me add that both brothers are fine fellows, who have now each a wife and children as well as an aunt to feel proud of them.A GHOSTLY VISITANT"YES, I'll get to the bottom of this business, if it costs me every penny I have got," and the speaker looked as if he quite meant what he said.He was a middle-aged man, of gentlemanly appearance and pleasing manners, though the latter were somewhat emphasized just now by the excitement under which he was labouring. The story he had to tell was a somewhat peculiar one, and Jones was inclined to wonder at the man for his determination to lose money he could ill spare in what was, at best, a doubtful enterprise.Several years previously our client, whose name was Clarke, had married the youngest daughter of a widow whose means were in so far independent that she had a life annuity, purchased by her late husband, with whom she had lived very happily. This arrangement insured a permanent provision for the wife of the late Mr. Soulsby, but all that he bequeathed to his two daughters was an equal share in the proceeds derivable from the sale of the household furniture on the death of their mother.There were many who gave it as their opinion that Mr. Soulsby had not treated his children fairly. The widow, they said, was still young and handsome, and there was every probability in favour of a second marriage on her part. Suppose she chose as partner number two, a man of lax principle? What justice were the orphans likely to get then? Or suppose that, even if she did not marry again, she were to die before the girls were grown up, or married, or able to earn their own living, life would have a very bad outlook for them.On the other hand, there were people who remembered that what money Mr. Soulsby had left when he died was the remnant of the fortune his wife had herself brought him on their marriage, and they therefore considered that she was the fit and proper person to have the benefit of the residue.It seemed for a time as if the croakers were to have it all their own way, for within two years Mrs. Soulsby became Mrs. Winship, only to be left a widow again eighteen months later, with another little daughter, six months old, on her hands.She seemed to have been altogether a charming sort of woman, doing her duty alike to husband and child, but after her second bereavement her affections concentrated themselves most strongly upon the baby, which was called Ruby, and grew up to be very beautiful.Matters progressed very smoothly after this, until Ethel and Emily were married. Ethel's husband was a commission agent in a fair way of business, who neither expected to reap pecuniary benefit by his marriage, nor to have any serious disbursements to make in future, seeing that his mother-in-law was very well provided for.The latter also explained that Mr. Winship had left certain possessions behind him—to wit, £150 in cash, sundry articles of furniture and office fittings, and some jewellery. The jewellery was still to the fore, being reserved for Ruby until she should be grown up. The other things were sold, the money added to the cash in hand, and the lot put out at such good interest that a neat little dowry of £300 awaited the fortunate Ruby.Mr. Winship had trusted to his wife's honour to act fairly by his child, and the result proved that she was quite worthy of the confidence reposed in her.Mr. Smith was very glad to find that his new relations were thus all provided for, for Emily also was about to be married to a shipbroker called Imeson, who began house-keeping in very grand style, and looked down upon every man who spent less than £500 a year. His wife had always had extravagant notions, which she was now permitted to indulge in full, and the pair seemed to do all in their power to cut as great a dash as any one else they came across.Of course this might have been kept up, if the income had been commensurate with the expenditure. But this was so far from being the case, that Mr. Imeson was declared a bankrupt ere long. A fraudulent bankrupt, moreover, for he had received large sums of money, for which he gave no satisfactory account, only a few days before he was gazetted.But, somehow, he managed to obtain his discharge, and, although he had to part with his West End mansion, his carriage and pair, his man-servant, and several other little luxuries in which he had indulged, he was able straightway to furnish another establishment, and to live in a style which ill accorded with the supposed position of a man who had just failed to the tune of £16,000.Matters went on in this way for a few years longer, the Imesons always contriving to get more than their due share of this world's good tilings, and generally disbursing at the rate of two-and-sixpence to the pound.The Smiths jogged along very well, but began to find that their rapidly increasing family required almost incessant labour and good management in order to provide for all its wants. Still, the pair were cheerful and good-tempered, and were very nice people to know. It was at the Smiths' that Mr. Clarke made Ruby's acquaintance, had been captivated by her engaging manners and appearance, and had decided that there was only one girl in the world for him.They were duly married, and it was arranged, in consonance with Mrs. Winship's own wish, that they should not set up a separate establishment, but that they should reside with the old lady, who dreaded to live alone.This arrangement was. as convenient for the newly-married pair as it was for the mother. Mr. Clarke was only a commercial traveller, and an establishment ready set up was not to be despised, while the young bride would not thus be exposed to such loneliness during his absences from home as would otherwise be the case.Mr. Clarke's employers were generous people, and always acknowledged diligent and faithful service in an honourable manner. On this occasion they gave their clever traveller a month's holiday, and a present of two of "Cook's Monthly Continental Tourist Tickets," thereby sending Ruby into the seventh heaven of delight, for she had never been out of England before.Thanks to Messrs. Cook's clever management, Mr. and Mrs. Clarke spent the month very enjoyably, for they saw many of the famous places, without any worry or anxiety relating to railway trains, boats, or hotels.Nevertheless, they had had quite enough of it by the time they reached London again, and Mr. Clarke was just as anxious to begin work again as his wife was to begin housekeeping on her own account.But a strange disappointment awaited them, in place of the happy welcome they had expected. Mrs. Winship met them at the station, to be sure, but she did nothing but weep, and try to excuse herself and the Imesons. Altogether her behaviour was so incomprehensible, that the newly-returned wanderers began to think she was losing her wits, or that something very terrible had happened.Fortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Smith appeared on the scene, and cut matters short by hailing two cabs, one of which was to carry the luggage and the two gentlemen, while the other conveyed the mother and daughters to their destination."We are going to my house just now," said Smith. "I will explain matters as we go along, while Ethel enlightens Ruby as to what has been going on in your absence."And a fine explanation the mystified Mr. Clarke had to listen to. It seems that the Imesons were in a terrible state of impecuniosity when Ruby got married, though no hint was given of it at the time. But no sooner had she started on her travels than operations commenced. It was represented to the old lady that with her rested the power of saving or ruining Emily and her husband for ever.A thousand pounds would enable him to secure certain shares which were going up every day, and which would fetch double their present value in another week. Nay, it only required a substantial guarantee for the money and Mr. Imeson could easily borrow it elsewhere. The prestige of being a shareholder in the "booming" mines would enable him to make other advantageous bargains, while immediate ruin from certain creditors awaited him, unless he could show them some substantial proof of prosperity, and thus get the necessary time in which to bring all his affairs to a satisfactory issue.There is no need to detail all the arguments brought to bear upon the old lady. Suffice it to state that she was badgered into pledging her annuity of £150 per annum for eight years to come, in order to enable her son-in-law to do this grand stroke of business. Then it was represented to her that as Mr. Clarke was not a rich man, she had better live with the Imesons until such time as she would have her own income to depend upon again. She should have her own rooms to retire to, whenever she felt disposed to do so, and should be treated like a queen, &c., &c.Deprived of her income, upon which no doubt they had counted, the Clarkes would probably begin housekeeping in a more modest way than they had first intended, and as it was hardly fair that Ruby should have the furniture, since it really belonged to Ethel and Emily, the best plan would be to remove it with her, so that she could set up house again as soon as ever she might wish to do so.Poor old lady! she was so worried, and was allowed so little time to think matters over, that she consented to sacrifice herself for Emily's sake, with the result that when Ruby returned there was no home waiting for her, and no prospect of enjoying the advantage of her mother's company during her husband's absences from home.Smith was enraged, for he considered that he was robbed, as well as Mrs. Winship and the Clarkes, since the whole affair was, in his opinion, simply a dodge to appropriate Ethel's goods in addition to the mother's means of livelihood.Clarke made the best of the situation by accepting Smith's invitation to stay at his house until a little place of his own could be got ready. There was only one good thing about the business. None of the four bore the old lady any grudge, for they had heard Mr. Imeson's persuasive tongue themselves, and were convinced that when once he had set himself to the task of convincing her that black was white, there was little doubt of his being able to do so.But they declined all communication with the pair who had so over-reached them all, and thus did not see much of Mrs. Winship until the inevitable crash came. Mr. Imeson was so thoroughly proved to be unscrupulous this time, that his creditors had scant mercy upon him, and sold all that the law permitted them to sell, even Mrs. Winship's ostensible possessions being sacrificed.Fortunately Messrs. Smith and Clarke were enabled to buy the greater part of the goods which really ought to have belonged to their mother-in-law as long as she lived, and then another arrangement became necessary. She looked so ill, so careworn, and so aged when they saw her, just before the sale, that they rightly concluded her to be exceedingly unhappy in her present quarters.By dint of questioning they discovered that she had not been well treated at Emily's, and had even been taunted with being a burden. Hitherto she had refrained from confiding her troubles to anyone, feeling that she had been herself to blame in trusting her scoundrel of a son-in-law. But now she could no longer refrain, and it was resolved not to allow her to remain with the Imesons any longer, even if they had desired her to do so, which they probably did not now that they had got all they could out of her.She eventually came to live with Ruby, who had no children to look after, as Emily had. Of all the goodly household of furniture she once called her own, she had nothing but a shabby black box left. But her two younger sons-in-law insisted that she should look upon many of the things that had been bought in at the sale by them as her own. They tried all in their power to make up to her for the anxieties and sufferings she had endured since she first broke up her home, and she might have been happy now but for a singular occurrence, or rather, succession of occur-rences, which bade fair to deprive her of both life and reason at no distant date.Mrs. Winship's bedroom was pleasantly situated at the front of the house. It was nicely fitted up, and there was nothing in it that could suggest the presence of uncanny visitors. And yet she had not occupied it many nights before she grew too terrified to sleep in it.She averred that her first husband's spirit kept appearing to her, and that the apparition always spoke to her when it came, and invariably used the same words. Of course her children thought that her mind must be slightly unhinged, and tried to prove to her that she could not possibly have really seen anything. But she could not get rid of her fears, and at last Mrs. Clarke resolved to sleep with her a few nights, in order to see what was the actual cause of her mother's terror and uneasiness.She was not afraid of doing so, for she did not believe in ghosts, and even if she had done so, the house itself was so terribly new, common-place, and prosaic that it was the unlikeliest place in the world, with a few exceptions, for a ghost to present itself in. The exceptions were the other new houses in the neighbourhood, the majority of which had not yet found tenants, this being one of the newest suburbs of the great city.During Mrs. Clarke's occupation of the room nothing occurred of particular note, but no sooner was the old lady left to sleep alone than the apparition appeared again, and left her each morning weaker in body and more troubled in mind, With a view at once of humouring her fears, and of removing her from whatever influence or outward impression was the pre-disposing cause of them, she was transferred to a higher bedroom, having no connection with the room she had just vacated. For a night or two all went well, but at last the ghost found her out here also. Then Mrs. Clarke slept with her one night, whereupon the late Mr. Soulsby declined to make his appearance, and his widow passed the hours in undisturbed and restful slumber.But no sooner did Mrs. Clarke elect to sleep in her own room again, than the ghost started playing his pranks once more. Evidently something must be done, but it was difficult to decide what that something ought to be. Clearly Mrs. Winship could not long survive her present experiences, if a period was not put to them soon.At last Mr. Clarke resolved upon watching a night himself, without giving the slightest inkling of his intention to anybody but his brother-in-law, Mr. Smith, whom he invited to share his watch. Accordingly, Mr. Smith presented himself as late as twelve o'clock, and was noiselessly let in by Mr. Clarke, the rest of the household having retired to rest at least an hour ago. The pair fortified themselves with a glass of whiskey each, and then crept cautiously upstairs, to listen if all was quiet within Mrs. Winship's room. The old lady was breathing heavily, as if in a troubled sleep, and as Mr. Clarke had previously oiled the lock, handle, and hinges of the bedroom-door, they effected their entrance into the room without disturbing her.The two men seated themselves upon a soft-cushioned couch. Here they could not be seen by Mrs. Winship, should she awake, but could themselves command a view of pretty nearly the whole room. They had not long to wait for a demonstration on the part of Mr. Soulsby, or his representative. Shortly after one o'clock a strange voice, which made them both jump, so near did it sound to them, spoke the word "Margaret!" in a commanding tone.Instantly the poor woman in the bed uttered a low cry of fear, and on the call being repeated, she gave vent to a succession of low shuddering moans. "Give all to Emily, or my curse go with you!" commanded the voice, and at the same instant the two men, as well as Mrs. Winship, distinctly saw an apparition, which was an exact fac-simile of what an old portrait showed the late Mr. Soulsby to have been. Only for an instant did it flash on their startled senses, and then both ghost and voice died away."Oh! I cannot!" moaned the poor widow. "You exacted a different sort of promise from me. I must be true to my promise. Oh, have mercy!"For some time she lay moaning and fretting, and then dropped into a troubled slumber, during which her sons-in-law left the room unobserved, and adjourned to the dining-room for a consultation. But their consultations were of little avail, beyond convincing them that there was some jugglery-packery at work, and that Imeson was at the bottom of it.But what can be meant by "leaving all to Emily?" wondered Smith. "Imeson took care that he should get the full benefit of her annuity, without giving her a chance all these years to recoup herself. She cannot have saved any thing, therefore she cannot have anything to leave.""No, she has nothing that I know of," assented Clarke; "but I do know one thing. I'll get to the bottom of this mystery, if it costs me all I have got," and as he said the same thing to Jones next morning, there was every reason to believe that he meant what he said.Jones agreed to ferret out all particulars; but remarked that as Mr. Clarke was a commercial traveller he would probably be away from home soon again. "Mrs. Clarke may then elect to share her mother's room, and in that case there will probably be no manifestation of the phenomena which are proving so trying to the old lady.""Just at present," replied Mr. Clarke, "I am likely to get a long spell at home. One of our fellows has got rather seedy, and the firm thought that it would benefit him, and give me an agreeable change at home, if we were to take each other's places for three months. So, you see, I shall be at hand to give you any information you require. And I want you to please notice one thing. The police must not be mixed up in this affair at all. We all know that both Mr. and Mrs. Imeson are thoroughly unprincipled, but we do not want a family scandal. That is why I have come to you instead of to a detective, who never seems to get rid of the idea that he should arrest every culprit whose sins are brought home to him.""We will be very judicious," assured Jones. "How long will it be before the old lady's annuity will revert to her?""Only six months. This trouble is sapping her life away. But if that were removed, and her annuity once more under her own control, she would recover health and strength, I am sure. She is not really old, and she knows that she is welcome to anything we have, but takes it bitterly to heart that she should be what she calls a burden to us.""Now, what do you think of that case?" said Jones to Bob and myself, after he had given us all particulars."Rather a rum go," was Bob's verdict. "There must be more in it than the worthy Mr. Clarke is aware of.""Yes," said Jones. "The Imesons are evidently a bad lot, and they have somehow got it into their heads that the old lady has a secret hoard that she can dispose of at will. They know that they have treated her badly, and do not expect to get it by fair means, so they have got up this hocus-pocus business to frighten it out of her."I thoroughly agreed with this opinion; but insisted that the secret hoard was no fancy. Jones pooh-poohed this idea, alleging the impossibility of it, until Bob called his attention to the fact that Mrs. Winship herself had seemed to admit as much in the reply that she made to the ghost.It is not my purpose in these revelations to describe our modus-operandi so much as to give the public some idea of the nature of the cases brought to us, and I will at once state that we were successful in unearthing the ghost and his confederates. The ghost himself was an enlarged facsimile of the late Mr. Soulsby's portrait, copies of which were in the possession of both his daughters. Empty houses, with windows facing Mrs. Winship's apartments, enabled Mr. Imeson, with the aid of a magic lantern and a ventriloquial confederate, to conduct his operations with tolerable success. Mrs. Clarke's own servant was in the scoundrel's pay, and kept him thoroughly posted as to the movements of all the individuals comprising Mr. Clarke's household. She even aided him still further by wetting the window-blind with cold water when she went to light the gas, turn down the bed-cover, and otherwise prepare the room for Mrs. Winship's occupation. The morning sun dried the blind too early for the trick to be discovered easily.The servant was packed about her business; Mr. Imeson was threatened with exposure; the owners of the empty houses found tenants. Consequently the demonstrations ceased, and Mrs. Winship got healthy, happy, and strong again, living ten years after this, and insisting upon sharing her comfortable annuity with her children.Six months ago she died, and a strange thing came to light. It was found that she had been the trustee of a sum of money which, with its accumulated interest, by this time amounted to £15,000. The original sum had been left by the late Mr. Soulsby under peculiar conditions.She had been required to promise him, upon oath, that she would never, while she lived, betray to any human being the fact that his money had not been all swallowed up by the annuity he had bought her. The money was to accumulate at interest until her death, and, as the children grew up, she was to decide which of the two was the most deserving. If they both turned out as was hoped and expected, then she could divide the fortune between them. If one should prove unworthy, it was Mr. Soulsby's wish that she should not inherit, but that the one who really deserved success in life should have it, subject to any other legacy which the mother might wish to make. In the event of the death of either or both of them, she was to dispose of the money as she thought fit.By this method of dealing with his money he hoped to provide for his daughters, and yet prevent them from becoming the prey of fortune-hunters, and he also wished to insure disinterested attentions on their part towards their mother.The ventriloquial confederate of Mr. Imeson was formerly a clerk in the office of Mr. Soulsby's solicitor, who had no doubt come across the will and betrayed its existence to Imeson, upon condition of sharing the plunder, if it could be terrified out of the old lady.She did not quite cut them off with the proverbial shilling, but left one thousand pounds to Mrs. Imeson, three thousand to the Clarkes, and the remaining eleven thousand to the Smiths; and there is no doubt that Mr. Soulsby, if cognizant of it, approved of this disposal of his property.THE JEALOUS HUSBANDI WONDER if Adam was ever troubled by the pangs of jealousy? Judging by the number of clients of both sexes whose principal cry was, "He or she now loves some one else better than myself," the jaundiced passion of jealousy seems to be stronger in the human breast than any other.Some of the cases brought to us caused us to feel the utmost contempt for our employers, even while we exerted ourselves honestly to earn the money they paid us. But there were many who sought our aid, for whom our feelings of compassion were aroused, and we have the satisfaction of knowing that by our co-operation many a tangled thread in the web of life was unravelled. While there were many brought to just punishment through our exertions, there were also many who have thenceforth led a happy and tranquil life in consequence of the clearing away of some misunderstanding.Among the latter may be classed a young couple whom I will call Mr. and Mrs. Broomhill. But I am fain to confess that never did case prove so simple to us, or tax our ingenuity less than did that of Broomhill versus Broomhill;—for the reason that both husband and wife having consulted us, what we did not learn from the one we learnt from the other.Under the circumstances, therefore, the most simple method will be to give a straightforward narrative of it, introducing our name as seldom as possible.Gilbert Broomhill, the manager of a suburban bank, was a clever, capable, and industrious fellow, and bade fair to get on very well in life. He was twenty-nine before he succumbed to the tender passion before which it is the fate of most of us to fall victims. But his love was like a presumably extinct volcano, all the fiercer and more overpowering for having been kept in due subjection for so long.When one reads of mad love and volcanic passion, one is usually prepared to hear that the object of it is bewilderingly beautiful, and the possessor of physical charms altogether superlative. The lady who had conquered Mr. Broomhill's hitherto impregnable heart did not tally with this ideal, but perhaps she was the one exception needed to prove the rule.She was considerably below the medium stature, being but five feet in height. She was of slender but symmetrical figure, refined, delicate features, and clear pale complexion, with which the fair hair, and dark grey eyes, in which not a tinge of blue was to be seen, were in perfect harmony. Her voice was musical, her manners were quiet and ladylike. Altogether she was a very pretty little individual, but looked singularly youthful and childish.Even after one knew her, it was difficult to look at her and give her credit for the firmness of character and strong common sense which she possessed, or to realize that she was capable of fighting the battle of life with more than ordinary skill. Mr. Broomhill himself did not for some time gauge the real depth of her character, although he had soon become convinced that she was endowed with every lovable quality under the sun, and felt for the first time in his life impatient of the daily routine of business, because it kept him from her side.Of course such devotion as this bore its natural fruit, and Dora, or Dot, as he preferred to call her, considered him a very king among men. They furnished a pretty little house at Knightsbridge, and their existence was typical of the state of beatitude enjoyed by the folks in the fairy tales, "who lived happy ever after."But as if to prove that no human lot is without its crosses, their happiness soon became clouded, and the "little rilt within the lute " grew wider day by day. This in itself was painful enough, but the circumstances were aggravated by the fact that while Gilbert and Dora Broomhill had done, as they thought, everything in their power to secure the happiness of the beloved one, Dot was still exceedingly anxious on her husband's behalf, and Gilbert was furiously jealous.We shall see how much cause he had to give way to that passion.Dot received a letter one morning. This in itself was no reason for surprise, for Dot, before her marriage, had not been an utterly friendless young lady, and there were many people who liked nothing better than to keep up a correspondence with the clever little body. But the husband and wife had always been very frank with each other, and had hitherto never dreamed of enjoying the perusal of their letters solus, so that Gilbert naturally felt a great deal surprised when he saw Dot open the said letter, and grow white to the very lips as she read it.His first thought was that it contained some bad news from her old home, and, in considerable alarm, he asked her what it was that had upset her so. But she rapidly recovered her self-possession, and smilingly put the letter in her pocket, saying that it was but a bill from her dressmaker, and that as some overcharges were made in it, she would see the dressmaker and have the matter put right before showing him the bill."Well, you surely need not turn white at the perusal of a bill, simply because there is a mistake in it that can be rectified! I gave you credit for being a little more strongminded than that, my pet. But I must be off now. And mind you take care of yourself. You cannot be well, when such a trifle upsets you so. I must have Dr. Burroughs to see you."So said Gilbert. Dora, however, persisted that he was alarming himself needlessly, as she was perfectly well in health, and he might have gone away reassured, had he not noticed that she wore an anxious look which would persist in showing itself, in spite of her efforts to appear unconcerned.Not a doubt of her truth entered his mind, but when on his way to the Bank, meeting Miss Peachum, the dress-maker, whom he knew by sight, he could not refrain from unburdening himself of the subject which was uppermost in his mind. "Do you know, Miss Peachum," he said, "you have quite upset Mrs. Broomhill this morning. There is some mistake in your bill, I believe, but she will be seeing you about it herself during the day, I suppose.""It is a mistake altogether, I expect, for I have not yet sent my bill to Mrs. Broomhill. It is so small this quarter that I hardly thought it worth while to send it."For a second Gilbert was confounded. Then he remembered that he must, at all hazards, prevent the world from thinking that his wife had told him a lie, so he laughed with as much mirth in his voice as he could assume, and remarked quite gaily, "There now, I shall get into the hat with a vengeance! It must have been somebody else's bill she meant."But though he thus made an outward show of gaiety, he was cruelly hurt. His Dot, his very acme of perfection, had wilfully deceived him: had lied to him! More than this, she had some weighty secret to conceal from him. No wonder he was absent and prepossessed during the day. And no wonder he grew impatient when Mr. Soames, the junior partner who had lately been taken into the firm, persisted in forcing his company upon him, as he was hurrying homewards after office-hours.He was anxious to get an explanation from Dot, for, after all, he thought, it was just possible that the matter might be cleared up satisfactorily.And the result seemed to justify his expectations. Dot had as pleasant and warm a welcome for him as usual, and was the first to broach the subject of the unpleasant letter. "Do you know, Gilbert, I have cleared up the mystery of that enormous bill," she said. "It was never intended for me at all. Miss Peachum's forewoman had addressed it to me in mistake."How thankful Gilbert felt! How he reproached himself for believing even for one moment that his wife could have deceived him! He was disposed to be even more loving than usual, to make up for the injustice his doubts had done her, when he came across something which revived them in greater force. It was summer time. There was no fire in the grate. Gilbert was an inveterate smoker, and being in want of a piece of paper to light his pipe, he appropriated a fragment which he saw peeping from underneath the grate. In the act of twisting it up, he saw that it was a small portion of the letter which had caused his wife such uneasiness in the morning.Idly smoothing the paper out, he thought carelessly, "I must ask Dot what the formidable sum total of this account was. Perhaps this paper will enlighten me though."But his carelessness vanished and his face blanched, when, instead of dressmaking items, his eyes fell on the following words, which burnt themselves into his brain like letters of fire, "Better meet me at eleven. Coast will be clear then."There are some natures that cannot bear the addition of the slightest worry without bubbling over, and telling others about it. But let some really great trouble fall upon them, and they instantly close up all the pores of communicative-ness, and the erstwhile frank and talkative nature becomes as secretive as the grave.Gilbert Broomhill was one of these people, and as he sat in his chair, in stunned silence, the incriminating piece of paper crushed in his hand, his wife scarcely saw any outward indication of the terrible change which had taken place in him during her brief absence from the room.The next morning, at eleven o'clock, or rather, half an hour before that time, he inquired for Mr. Soames, the junior partner, intending to ask if he would take his place while he hurried home to discover, if possible, whom it was that his wife had to meet. But Mr. Soames had gone out half an hour before this, and Gilbert was kept so incessantly busy that he had to give up the idea of acting the spy, and trust to making the discovery he both courted and dreaded later on.But he felt it impossible to continue his duties, and his misery gave him such a racking headache, that Mr. Colbeck, the senior partner, noticed how ill he looked, and generously sent him home about half-past one.When he arrived there, Dot was out, and a telegraph messenger overtook him at the door and handed a message to him. It was addressed to Mrs. Broomhill, but he was in no mood for conventionalities, and hastily tore the missive open, being rewarded by the following: "Meet me at 3.15; same place. Time to return before B." The message purported to come from James, City, and if ever a James succeeded in driving a man mad with jealousy, this one did.He forbade the servant to mention the telegram, or to say that he had been home, and the girl was so awed by her master's new mood that there was little likelihood of her disobeying him. Then he did a very foolish thing. He went out and wandered crazily about the streets for hours, finally turning into a place of entertainment which Mr. Soames had often goodnaturedly, but vainly, pressed him to enter.Here more than one sort of gambling went on, and before he had quite realized what he was about, Gilbert had madly accepted the odds offered against the chances a certain crack billiard-player had against a new antagonist whose skill seemed extraordinary. He did not lose much by this transaction, but he was in a reckless mood, and he presently awoke to his madness by finding that he had betted and lost much more money than he had the wherewithal to pay."Never mind," he thought savagely, "to be a defaulter is not so bad as to be deceived, and I do not care what happens to me now."Nevertheless, he was brought to his sober senses by the clamour that was raised when he did not produce the money to pay his last debt, and was wishing himself well out of the scrape, when he felt some one crush a piece of paper into his hand. Hastily turning round, he saw no one whom he knew, but observed a man, whom he did not recognize, just hurrying out of the room. Looking at the paper he read some hastily-written words, "Use this cheque, as from a friend, and take his advice—do not bet again."He had only time to notice that the cheque was on the very bank in which he was employed, and that it was signed by a customer who was a matter of thirty thousand pounds on the right side of the balance sheet, and then he promptly handed it to the man who had been violently denouncing him as a blackleg. The man stopped his stream of vituperation when a cheque for £50 was handed to him, and as he had not sufficient money to return the requisite change, after deducting the ten sovereigns so rashly lost by Broom-hill, he handed the paper to the proprietor of the house, who, seeing that it was to all appearance a cheque from a man whose signature he had reason to recognize, did not hesitate a moment in changing it.And now Gilbert did a thing which in the end proved his salvation from a foul plot. He took the landlord on one side, explained how the cheque was thrust into his hands, and requested him to retain the custody of the £40 change until the man who had written it should return. "I have had some trouble to-day, and must have been beside myself when I started to bet. Hut my folly must be paid for by myself, not by a stranger's generosity. When you see the gentleman again, kindly give him the £40, and tell him that I will take an early opportunity of sending him the other £10. My name is Gilbert Broomhill. I live at No. 115, Blank Road, Knightsbridge, and I am the manager of the bank upon which this cheque is drawn.""Well," the landlord laughed, "it is all the same to me, whichever way you do. But why not take the £40, add ten to it, and return it yourself to the gentleman who has thus stood your friend?"But Gilbert had an unaccountable reluctance to handling any of the money which had come to him so mysteriously. So, after getting a receipt from the landlord, he left the place, and, between twelve and one o'clock, the miserable man "homeward wound his weary way."Dot was terribly anxious about him. He could see that she had been weeping; but as he only considered that she had got bad-tempered on account of having less attention than usual from a husband whom she was befooling, her distress only made him more angry, and he repulsed her roughly when she greeted him in her usual loving manner.The next morning his evil mood had grown upon him. He had been so madly, furiously jealous through the night, that he had once or twice looked at her innocent young face, as she lay sleeping by his side, and felt sorely tempted to put an end to both her life and his. Truly, "trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmation strong as proofs of holy writ," and his tortured imagination wrung from the past a thousand proofs that his wife's demonstrations of affection were but a cloak, assumed in order the better to hide her guilt.At breakfast the anxiety which Mrs. Broomhill already felt about him was considerably increased, for he refused either bite or sup, and left the house without even bidding her good-morning.Obeying a sudden impulse, he postponed his journey to the bank, made a detour in the direction of our office, came in, and requested our aid in quietly unravelling the mystery which enveloped his wife's actions.The chief heard him to the very end of his story, without once interrupting him, and then smilingly remarked that if Mr. Broomhill was not in a very tremendous hurry, he had a little story to tell him, which would set all his jealous doubts at rest."We have," he said, "another client, whose name is the same as yours, and she has consulted us in order to find out if possible who and what is a certain gentleman who seems to have the ruin of both herself and her husband at heart. She is, however, bent upon foiling him, and your story fits in with hers so exactly that I think you may congratulate yourself upon having as quick-witted a wife as a man can desire. For some time past she has received letters from an individual who has professed to have you in his power, and who has stated that she could save you from disgrace and ignominy. The writer asserted that you were guilty of embezzlement and forgery, and that he had ample proofs of your guilt. He urged meetings upon her, in order to consult as to the best means of compassing your safety, but when he professed to be madly in love with her, she saw through his villainy, and determined to thwart him with his own weapons."She tore the first note she received from him to pieces; but, happening to take up one of the pieces afterwards, she noticed that the writing which she knew to have been on it had disappeared, and concluded that it had been written with some chemical, which vanished and left no trace after a time."The same thing happened with a second note she received. The writing disappeared in about ten hours, and she felt sure now that the writer had traduced you for some vile purpose of his own, and as a result of her determination to get at the bottom of the affair without worrying you until she had your enemy at her mercy, she consulted our firm."Acting upon our advice, she took the third note to be photographed, before the patent ink had time to fade. She thus possesses an exact fac-simile of the writing, and I think we may count this as a trump card which this would-be clever scoundrel little suspects can be played by us. Then your wife kept the appointment made in the note, having first assured herself that one of us was within seeing distance, and that we would follow the man, and discover his name and residence."This we managed to do, and we have ascertained that the man who seeks to ruin your wife is no other than Mr. Soames, the junior partner in Colbeck, Money & Co.'s Bank."This was a revelation for Mr. Broomhill, truly! But the rage he felt against Soames was as yet immensely outweighed by the discovery that his dear Dot was, after all, everything that his fancy had painted her.Jones pointed out to him that Mrs. Broomhill had intended to tell him everything last night, but his own explanation had shown that she could hardly have done so, owing to the, to her, inexplicable state of rage and excitement he was in himself. "I have no doubt," he continued, "that last night's cheque episode had something to do with this plot, and that the man means ruining you, in order the better to carry on his nefarious designs against your wife. Probably some blow will be struck at you this morning, and it will be somewhat against you to be so late. I would advise you to lose no time in repairing to the bank. You need not be alarmed about the ultimate result of this adventure. One of my partners has shadowed Soames pretty well the last two days, and he actually saw him put the note and cheque into your hand."It was as Jones had foreseen. There was a tremendous commotion at the bank when Broomhill got there. Two forged cheques had been presented for payment, one of them being the one which the proprietor of the billiard-room had changed on the previous night. He had first sought an interview with the presumed signatory, and, learning that he had issued no such cheque, had accompanied that gentleman to the bank to inquire into the matter.Soames had cleverly contrived to throw suspicion upon Broomhill, but in this case had literally reckoned without his host. Mr. Burdon proved that Broomhill requested him to find the right owner of the cheque, and that Soames was a frequent visitor at his billiard-room. I subsequently turned up and told how I had seen Soames himself manipulate the cheque. In fact, there were all sorts of things to prove that Soames had been carrying on a cunning game for some time.The writing, which Mrs. Broomhill had had photographed, was identified as his, but the note which accompanied the cheque had now no writing on it. This, however, was accepted simply as another proof of its real origin. Alto-gether there were so many things brought home to Mr. Soames that he deemed it the wisest plan to throw himself on the mercy of his judges. He had gambled and spent money at a most reckless rate, and had embezzled just as recklessly, hoping to divert all suspicion from himself to Broomhill.Not satisfied to ruin the poor fellow socially, he, having once or twice, unknown to herself, seen Mrs. Broomhill, and conceived an unholy passion for her, he had used his best endeavours to obtain the wife's affections, thinking that her disgust on finding Broomhill to be, as she believed, a rogue, would, perhaps, induce her to take refuge in his own superior charms.As we have seen, his plans all went "aglee," and his estimate of woman's character was also erroneous.The senior partners of Messrs. Colbeck, Money & Co.'s bank hushed the affair up as well as they could. Soames was a relative of their own, and as they did not want their family to be disgraced, they punished their blacksheep by insisting upon his leaving the country at once and for ever.As for Mr. Broomhill, he has never been able to forgive himself for ever being jealous of so true a woman as his wife, and the last time I saw him he vowed that in future not even his own eyes would be regarded as Credible witnesses against her.A GRUESOME JOKE"WHAT a detestable place to come to! Surely Aunt Belle must have taken it for no other purpose than to spite us and make our lives miserable. But I neither can nor will endure existence in this dreary hole, and I give you my word for it, we shall have changed our habitation again within six months, or my name is not Jack Brereton.""But how will you manage it? I am as little in love with the place as you are, but if Aunt Belle is bent upon remaining, she is not likely to let our fancies influence her actions. Besides, if we cannot make up our minds to live here, it is at our own option to migrate to a more civilised region without dragging Aunt Belle about. What do you think, Jim?""What do I think? Why, I think as Jack does. It's a beastly shame for the old fool to expect three young fellows to live in an ancient hole like this, and, like Jack again, I am determined to put an end to such folly as soon as possible.""And put an end to your present good prospects at the same time?""What an idiot you must think me! You are about the slowest cove I know, Bryce Brereton, but that is no reason why you should credit other folks with possessing no more brains than yourself."This last was said in so sneering and contemptuous a tone that Bryce Brereton felt his passion rising, and in order not to encourage its boiling over, he abruptly left the room, his forbearance merely serving, however, to call forth another sneer at his "cowardly tameness."The three youths were the sons of Miss Belle Brereton's two dead brothers. Jack and Jim were twins, their cousin Bryce's senior by a few months only. A singular string of fatalities had resulted in the whole three becoming dependent upon their aunt at a very tender age.The late John Brereton had been a solicitor, and his brother Bryce had chosen the Church as his profession. But neither of them had made such headway in the world when Death first robbed them of their fair young wives, and then claimed each of them in turn as his victims.Thus it happened that had Miss Belle not had both inclination and means to do well by them the boys would have been thrown upon the world's charity. How Miss Belle Brereton had come by these means was a fruitful topic of wonder and comment among her limited circle of acquaintances.She had always been of a very retiring disposition, and had consequently not made so many friends as a showier young woman might have done. But those who were once admitted to her confidence always learned to love and esteem her, and as she never had the faculty of making enemies, nothing but sympathy was expressed for her when her father died and left her nothing but a small annuity of thirty pounds a year that he had managed to scrape together for her out of the savings of his country practice.Of course thirty pounds a year was much better than nothing, but it was not sufficient to support her, and she did the most natural thing under the circumstances—sold the furniture her father had left her, and accepted a post as governess somewhere in the north. She was twenty-nine years of age; was thoroughly well-educated; and was therefore quite capable of managing her own affairs, and earning her livelihood.She had always lived in a humdrum little village, which was so far removed from every populous business centre that as the young fellows grew up they all migrated to the towns, and eventually found partners for life among young ladies who were more favourably placed than Belle Brereton, who, beautiful though she was, was reputed never to have had an offer in her life.For two years little was heard of Miss Brereton in her native haunts. At the end of that time she re-appeared in Marlby, having heard of the death of her brothers, and the almost destitute condition of her three young nephews. She looked pale, sorrowful—almost tragic, in fact—as if she had gone through some terrible experience. Her beauty had, however, increased rather than diminished, and there were many who gazed upon the graceful, dignified, sphinx-like woman with positive awe.Yes, she was sphinx-like. That is an undeniable fact. There was just ground for wondering what had produced the remarkable change in her, making her look, as romantic Ethel Middleton averred, "like an extinct volcano, whose outward beauty has been but increased in consequence of the passions which have surged over, and changed its commonplace exterior to one of calm and glorious majesty."There was also another ground for wonderment. Whence came all the money she now spent so lavishly? An annuity of thirty pounds per annum would not account for it, and as she had only been away from Marlby two years she could not have saved it. Such a thing as a legacy in her favour had not been heard of by anyone hereabouts, and it was therefore not at all surprising that Miss Brereton should be the subject of endless comments and speculations, not all of them quite complimentary either.But no one had a word to say against her with reference to her treatment of her orphaned nephews. She announced her determination to bring them up and fit them for whichever trade or profession they might eventually choose. By way of preliminary, she sent them all to a first-rate county school, where they remained until they were of the ages of seventeen and sixteen respectively. She then, in response to their earnest solicitations, agreed to let them study at a university for a few years. They were quite wild with glee for a time, but this pleasure moderated considerably when they discovered that Oxford, the goal of their desires, was not their destination, and that sleepy little Durham had been fixed upon.Farewell the dreams of rollicking and roystering in which Jack and Jim at least had indulged, and goodbye to many a wild plan they had formed! It must be confessed that the idea of actual study had not entered much into their calculations. They had heard marvellous stories of the doings of certain wild young spendthrifts whom they actually wished to emulate. If exorbitant prices are charged at Oxford, it is more than easy to obtain credit there. Indeed, the difficulty lies in the other direction. The Oxford student has to be provided with a certain amount of moral force and courage to enable him to steer clear of the numerous traps which are set in order to induce him to run up bills.So many of these bills are never paid at all, that those who are honest have to pay enormous prices, in order to balance the profit and loss of the Oxford tradesman's business to his liking. Said business is, upon the whole, more of a gambling affair than anything else, and, whether he be a cash customer or whether he be a credit customer, the result to the buyer is pernicious all the same. In the one case his pocket suffers; in the other his morals.Miss Brereton was evidently cognizant of all the evils likely to arise from sending young fellows to associate with those whose means or whose morals might prove an equal source of temptation, and she therefore chose the northern university as less likely to spoil her boys, none of whom she as yet suspected of ingratitude, although she had noticed several other traits in the character of the twins which pained her.But if they were disappointed to find they were not to go to Oxford, how much worse was their chagrin to learn that they were not to be emancipated from domestic control during their term of study, but that Aunt Belle herself intended to migrate northwards when they did."I have a house not far from Durham," she informed them. "It is somewhat out of repair, but I can soon have it put right, and we will all live there until your studies are complete."They did not take the information kindly, as they anticipated a considerable curtailment of their freedom through their aunt's presence. But they were very much surprised to hear of this old house, for they were not aware that Miss Brereton had ever been in the county of Durham, and they had no idea that she had any possessions there.When they arrived at Flood Hall, their previous notions as to its probable appearance and discomforts were more than justified. It was a dismal, damp, dreary old place, to which the mildew of ages seemed to give an ogreish look calculated to frighten even the stout hearts of three mischievous lads. Probably its damp and preternaturally gloomy appearance was largely due to the trees amid which it was built, and which had now grown to such magnificent dimensions as completely to intercept the sunrays which would otherwise have cheered and warmed the place a little.Even Miss Brereton felt chilled by the dismalness of her new abode until the curtains were drawn, and the outer prospect shut out after nightfall. Then, with glorious fires burning in the huge grates, and numerous lamps lighted in the hall and in the rooms, the building asserted itself as a fine old pile which deserved more than the neglect it had met with of late years. And yet Miss Brereton had a curious habit from the first night of pushing aside the curtains of one of the drawing-room windows, and peering through the leafy screen of foliage into the graveyard beyond. Not much of it was even then to be seen, but such prospect as was visible appeared to afford the lady some consolation, inasmuch as she never seemed to tire of sitting gazing in that direction.At such times her face would assume a sad, longing expression, and more than once the tears had been seen to chase each other down her cheeks. The servants whom she had engaged vowed that there was something uncanny both about the house and about its mistress, and not one of them would have ventured out alone after nightfall. Not that they believed in ghosts. Oh, no. Only, as they invariably averred when questioned on the subject, "It isn't varry canny."If the servants found it eerie, the three boys found it intolerable, and Jack especially was bent upon terrifying his aunt out of the place, if no other means were successful in persuading her to leave it.The Christmas vacation promised ample opportunity for carrying out their plans, but Bryce now protested that he would neither condone nor participate in foul play. When angrily questioned concerning his meaning in using the words, he said that by "foul play " he meant anything that would trouble his aunt in any shape or form, although he admitted that he liked the place no better than his cousins did, and would welcome any legitimate means of inducing Miss Brereton to leave it.There were several angry scenes between the cousins, but ultimately the twins resolved to exclude Bryce from their confidence in future, as they did not feel quite able to trust him. It was astonishing after a while what a number of queer stories the lads managed to rake up concerning former tenants of Flood Hall, and what a number of ghosts the place was credited with possessing. They were all remorselessly poured into Miss Brereton's ears, but she professed to place no credence upon them, though Bryce saw that she was pained, and urged his cousins to be more considerate, only to be called a fool for his pains.But there was one story that had a terrible effect on their aunt. "Do you know," said Jack, one evening, when the family had adjourned to the drawing-room as usual, "Harry Spence told me a queer tale to-day. He says that this house and the land round about it belonged to the Merivales for generations, and that they only died out a few years ago. That would be about the time when you bought the place, I expect, aunt. There were two brothers left, and they both fell in love with the same lady, who had come to be governess to the child of the younger brother, whose wife was dead, or at least supposed to be."The governess preferred the widower, who was also the poorer of the two, but had hitherto always been pressed to share Bernard Merivale's home. Shortly before the marriage was to take place little Maud Merivale died of congestion of the lungs, and her distracted father went so far as to say that her uncle Bernard had deliberately taken her and kept her for more than an hour in a place so damp and ague-striking that everybody shunned it, in order that she might catch cold and die, and thereby enable her uncle to be avenged on her father for robbing him of his bride."After this there was a terrible quarrel. Bernard Merivale went away. Hubert and the governess got married, and lived here for a year, when something dreadful happened. Hubert Merivale was brought home one day shot through the side, none knew by whom, and he appeared like one dying. That same night Mrs. Merivale's baby was born, but did not live till morning, and Mrs. Merivale herself had received such a terrible shock that people at first thought she too would die. But they both recovered their hea'th again, and, soon after, Bernard Merivale came back, suffering from consumption. It is said that he swore that his brother's first wife, of whose death they had heard long ago, was not really dead, but that she, being a bad woman, who had left her husband for another man, had caused false tidings of her death to be sent to him for certain purposes of her own. This was terrible enough news, but when Bernard went on to say that he had seen the real Mrs. Merivale, Hubert's rage overpowered him, and he gave his brother the lie."Then ensued a frightful scene. Hubert flew at Bernard with the fury of a tiger, probably forgetting the state of health he was in at the time. The contest was short and unequal. Bernard fell to the ground, his heart's blood flowing from his mouth on to the dress of the unhappy wife, who had vainly tried to part the two. Then Hubert, still frenzied with passion, looked down, to see his wife bending over the fallen and dying man, and shrieking for aid in an agony of grief. At once he jumped to a fearful conclusion. 'She, too, is faithless! She, too, loves someone better than she loves me!' he cried. The next moment he fell dead before her, shot by himself, this time through the heart."The unhappy brothers lie buried in one grave, and after the funeral the unfortunate widow disappeared. It is supposed that she sold the estate, and that she is dead, as nothing has since been heard of her. But the brothers are often to be heard quarrelling about the place, and they say that every twenty-third of December—the anniversary of the final tragedy—the scene is re enacted here, and that the despairing wife's shrieks resound through the place."While Jack told his story, Jim and Bryce had listened with breathless eagerness, never noting its effect on Miss Brereton. Now they turned eagerly to her, and were startled to note that her head had fallen forward upon the arm of the couch on which she sat, her motionless attitude filling them with foreboding.With one accord they ran towards her, to find that she had fainted, and it was some time before the servants they hastily summoned were able to restore her to consciousness. She was ill for several days after this, but obstinately refused to see a doctor, though Bryce in particular urged her to do so."It is strange," he said to his cousins, "that Aunt Belle should bury herself alive as she does. She positively sees no one. No wonder we are pestered by questions as to who our aunt really is. Only yesterday a fellow asked me if her right name wasn't Merivale, and whether she was the real or the fictitious Mrs. Merivale. I could have knocked the fellow down, although I had not the slightest idea what he meant at the time. Since hearing your story last night, I think it quite possible that she is no other than the poor lady who spent so tragic a time here. It would be natural on her part to be silent as to her past life when doubts as to the legality of her marriage had once entered her mind, for we all know her to be a proud woman. But she has earned our love and gratitude, and I think it was a shame of you, Jack, to tell the story to her face, for you must have felt sure all the time that she was Mrs. Merivale.""Now, none of your preaching," was Jack's answer to this reproach. "I told you that I thought I should get her out of the house, and I think very little more will manage it now.""Good heavens! Jack, you surely do not mean to torment her again, after seeing what a terrible effect last night's experiment had on her?"So expostulated Bryce; but Jack saw no harm in pursuing his scheme to completion, although he carefully forbore to initiate his cousin into his future plans. Jim, however, entered into them heartily, and for a day or two there was a good deal of whispering going on between the two.On the twenty-third day of December they admitted two friends of theirs to their own apartments, and so managed matters that nobody but themselves was cognizant of the new arrivals.Miss Brereton had not recovered her former calm, digni-fied condition. She appeared restless and anxious, and not all Bryce's well-meant attempts to amuse her sufficed to lift her from the gloom into which she had been thrown. It was the anniversary evening of the death of the brothers Merivale, and Bryce could see by the nervous clasping and unclasping of her hand, and by her restless movements, how uneasy she was."Auntie, dear," he said at last, "I am afraid you have let Jack's absurd story worry you far too much. Of course you do not believe that yam about the annual apparition. Jack only mentioned it to frighten you out of this house, because it is so gloomy. But it was only a joke of his, and I wish you would try to think no more about it.""My dear boy," was Miss Brereton's sad answer, "I cannot dismiss this matter from my mind for many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that a boy to whom I have stood as a mother, and who owes everything to me, would deliberately wound me as Jack did the other night. He must have known all the time that I myself was the unfortunate woman whose story he was narrating, and he must have been aware that every word he uttered was the most cruel stab he could give me. So selfish a nature as his deserves punishment, and I have already taken the most effectual means of punishing him. My story was too sad to be put in the mouths of gossips, and I could neither endure to be pitied nor to be pointed at as a woman who had, however unwittingly, been tricked into a false marriage by the man who loved her. Hence my silence regarding my past."That both brothers loved me I have never doubted, and the thought that but for my advent here they might both still have been happy and well has embittered my life more than my own sorrows. Both Hubert and Bernard had willed all their possessions to me, and the good uses to which I have been enabled to devote the wealth placed at my disposal has been some consolation to me. When I am gone I hope you will use your share nobly and wisely. There is one thing you must not forget. Bury me beside the two men who loved me only too well. You can see the grave through that window.""My dear aunt, do let us go away to some place which will be more cheerful. You are ill and overwrought. You——"But what more Bryce would have said was stayed by a wild, blood-curdling shriek which resounded through the apartments. Then hurrying footsteps were heard approaching, and the twin brothers came running into the room, their fright being so evidently exaggerated that Bryce, who had reason to fear some trick on their part, knew it to be assumed.Almost simultaneously with their entrance other sounds were heard, as of two men quarrelling. The sounds approached closer, and the facsimiles of two portraits Bryce had often noticed appeared on the scene, gesticulating violently. Then one of them exclaimed, in evident fury, "It is true; she is alive; I have seen her!" whereupon the other figure sprang at him, a short struggle took place, and one fell to the floor, appearing to be bleeding from the mouth. Then the shriek, in imitation of a woman's voice, was repeated, and the other figure cried out, "She, too, is faithless!" fired a revolver into the air, and made a feint of falling lifeless on to the other body.Bryce would have rushed up and stopped the farce, had he not been held back by the twins, who had no mind to have their joke spoiled. The whole thing was over quickly, and the masqueraders jumped up and made off, when they heard some servants running to see what was the matter.But if their farce was over, its consequences were not. There was a stifled gasp from Miss Brereton, and as Bryce hurriedly turned towards her, she fell forward. The twins were now also startled, and sprang to her aid. Too late, however, for the poor lady was dead! Their "joke" had proved too gruesome.It was not thought that Miss Brereton really believed that what she saw was an apparition. But it was a cruel blow to feel that she was made the subject of a ghastly hoax by her nephews, and it was thought that the excitement, added to her weak condition, had killed her.Jack Brereton, as well as Jim, had ample cause to rue their mischievous propensities, for in a new codicil, added to her will a few days before her sudden death, she left all her possessions to her nephew Bryce.He, however, preferred to settle as much on his cousins as sufficed to meet all their expenses, and give them a fair start in the world. But he has never been able to make up his mind to live at Flood Hall, and left it shortly after seeing that his aunt was interred in the spot she had chosen as her final resting-place. The two youths who assisted the twin brothers in their stupid and wicked joke were censured enough to make them resolve to eschew such practices in future.As for my own share in this drama, it is nil. But I have thought that it would prove quite as interesting as some of the reminiscences in which my firm bears a practical part, hence its place among these Enquiry Office Secrets.Just lately I heard a little news of Flood Hall. The whole district is undermined by coal workings, and subsidences are common in the district. Flood Hall and the cemetery have fallen in, and their site is now marked by a large pond, above the surface of which old trees still erect their hoary heads, and near whose black and slimy depths no one ventures that is at all superstitious.THE POLISH REFUGEEOF medium height, slight build; clear, healthy complexion; beautiful dark eyes; and black hair, that curled in bewitching waves over the fine brow. The possessor of regular, intellectual features; small, delicately-shaped hands and feet, and a moustache so perfect in its size, its shape, its neatness, and its glossy blackness, that it was the admiration of the one sex and the envy of the other.Such was Feodor Plotnitzky, a young gentleman who taught German, French, and the violin to quite a host of pupils, and who, to do him justice, was thoroughly able to do all he undertook. He claimed to be the scion of a noble house, compelled to seek safety in England, the El Dorado of political refugees from despotic persecution, from time immemorial. His manners were perfect, and quite justified a belief in the superiority of origin and bringing up of Count Feodor Plotnitzky, who, however, would modestly and sadly disclaim all desire of being addressed by the title which was his by right, saying that as England had proved such a haven of refuge to him and his, he felt honoured by being addressed by the simple English prefix "Mr."This was all very well, but it seemed impossible for any-one to make up his mind to vulgarise him by a mode of address to which a street-sweeper could lay claim. He was so bewilderingly handsome, accomplished, and polished, that some folk were actually inclined to temporise with his title in the opposite direction, and address him as "Prince.""Oh! he is just heavenly!" sighed Miss Philippa Sudds, and, hardened observer of humanity as I was by this time, I could almost have found it in my heart to echo Miss Philippa's enthusiastic remark. I will at least say this much. I have never, before or since, seen so perfect a specimen of humanity, and after once seeing him I could no longer be surprised at the fact that the majority of his young lady pupils fell madly in love with him.Perhaps the reader would like to know how I happened to be acquainted with this Polish marvel. I can soon explain how it came about. Jones informed me one day that a well-known baronet, whom we will call Sir Selby Grant, had been to the office during my absence, and had invoked the aid of our firm in bringing certain family affairs to a satisfactory issue."This," said our chief, "is the gist of what the baronet said to me: 'I have an only daughter, whom I love very dearly, and to whom I am never inclined to deny anything in reason. She is now eighteen years old, and has seen very little of society, having only just left school. She is considered a very handsome girl, and great expectations of her future have been held by our relatives and friends. As I have no other children, and the estates are not entailed, she will have a large fortune some day. I have looked forward with eagerness to the time when she would have completed her education, and would be able to take the place of mistress of my establishment, for my life has had little domestic happiness to brighten it since I lost my dear wife six years ago."'Unfortunately, my anticipations have not all been realised. Miss Grant is quite as affectionate, and quite as eager to promote my comfort, as I hoped she would be, but I find her sad and preoccupied, and more than once I have surprised her in tears. I have had considerable difficulty in inducing her to give me her entire confidence, but have at last discovered that she has not returned to me heartwhole. This, in itself, is matter for considerable regret in any case, at her age. But what struck me as almost incredible is the fact that she does not believe her affection reciprocated, although the subject of it is nothing better than a teacher of languages."'I could almost have brought myself to be angry with my unhappy Mabel were I not so grieved at the genuine trouble the poor child is in, and so full of admiration of the way in which she bravely strives to conquer her unfortunate passion. Again, failing this outlet for the vexation inseparable from so disappointing an affair, I might have emptied the vials of wrath upon this foreign professor, who has apparently been taking a base advantage of his opportunities to worm himself into the hearts of his pupils."' But here again I am foiled. Miss Grant protests that the fault, if fault there be, is entirely her own. She says that the professor, who by the way, is called Count Feodor Plotnitzky, has never, by word or deed, given either herself or any other young lady the slightest encouragement to believe that he entertained more than friendly, or at the most, brotherly affection for them. And yet they are one and all in love with him! I cannot understand it. Even Miss Minervina Prout, the lady principal of the school my daughter attended, speaks of this young man as if his equal had never been seen upon earth, though I will do her the justice to remark that she feels quite an innocent, motherly affection for him."He is,' she said, 'the most capable teacher I have ever had in the school. The progress his pupils make under his tuition is perfectly miraculous, when compared with the results of lessons by former tutors. His terms are rather high, but his abilities more than justify their exaction. His pupils, so far from evincing distaste of the coming lessons, as has generally been the case, look forward to their tasks with eagerness, and I have only to threaten to debar them from attending the violin or language lessons to make my young ladies do anything I require of them. So you see our Polish teacher has influence outside the actual sphere of his own duties.'"'Influence! I should think so! Poor, innocent Miss Minervina never seemed to suspect that this wonderfully beneficent influence was owing to the fact that the pupils were each and all in love with the versatile Polish count, who was so unassuming that he actually preferred to be addressed as "Mr." I could discover nothing to the detriment of my gentleman, and I preferred not to horrify Miss Minervina by betraying my daughter's secret."'Nevertheless, I want to make an end of the affair either one way or the other, and I have come to you to help me. I am convinced that if the object of her affections is proved utterly unworthy, my daughter will soon be cured of her infatuation, which owes its origin quite as much to the conviction that the man is as good and sensible as it is given anyone to be, as it does to the fact that his exterior is of almost unrivalled beauty. I remember, as a youth, being desperately enamoured of a certain lady whom I accredited with all the virtues under the sun. My love evaporated with remarkable promptitude when I learnt that my goddess was endowed with several objectionable vices in lieu of virtues. I believe my daughter to be of the same temperament as myself, and that she would scorn to waste her affections on an unworthy object."'If, on the other hand, this count proves to be a true, manly fellow, with no other drawback than his poverty, I will gladly see him married to my girl. She will have money enough for both, and I do not wish to wreck her happiness in a foolish chase for more wealth. You must give me all the information you can gather about Count Plotnitzky. In order to afford the man nothing but fair play, your remuneration shall be the same, whether he is proved to be an impostor and a cheat, or whether he turns out to be all that is desirable. What I wish to impress upon you is the necessity for making a most careful in-vestigation of the man's private life and antecedents, in order that no irreparable blunder may be made."'My daughter's happiness is everything to me, or I would not submit anyone to the indignity of espionage.'"Jones, having thoroughly grasped the duties expected of us, and having come to terms with this rare English gentleman, took me into his confidence, and together we arranged our immediate plan of campaign. We decided that the best proceeding would be for me to go to lodge for a time at the same boarding house which the professor patronised. Sir Selby, on the pretence of a desire to present Professor Plotnitzky with some token of his appreciation of the progress his daughter had made in languages and on the violin, had obtained his address from Miss Minervina. As the professor was out when he called, he had not obtained the interview he sought, and had since decided to postpone it awhile, until a communication from us should determine his future course of action.Fortunately for our project, Mrs. Hales had a vacant room at my disposal. I represented myself as a literary gentleman who was studying up a special subject, and wished to live in a quiet way apart from his too numerous circle of acquaintances, until all arrangements for his new book were completed.The next morning I made the acquaintance of my fellow boarders at breakfast. Upon the whole, they were rather a nice lot, some dozen in all, but I felt little special interest in any of them except my young professor and his mother. Yes, although I had not heard of this lady before, it was none the less a fact that Mrs. Hales numbered among her boarders a lady known as Mrs. Plotnitzky."You know, sir, Mrs. Plotnitzky, or 'Madame,' as we all call her, is really a countess. But she is, like her son, very modest, and insists upon dropping the title. She says that now she has lost all her fortune, and cannot afford to keep an establishment of her own, it is absurd to use a title. But anyone can see, the moment they look at her, that she is a thorough aristocrat. And so beautiful as she is, too! No wonder her son, who dotes on her, is so handsome, and so clever, and so——"Here followed, if possible, a more enthusiastic panegyric of Professor Plotnitzky's amiabilities and virtues than I had even heard of before, and I was at the end of this conversation, which took place after Madame had gone to her own room, and after the other boarders had departed in pursuance of their various avocations, forced to the conclusion that Mrs. Hales must also be included among the professor's worshippers.And, by the time I had been in the house twenty-four hours, I was no longer surprised at the unbounded fascination which the irresistible Feodor exercised over all with whom he came in contact, for I could not withstand his influence myself. Not that I was particularly desirous of doing so, for I had sought his acquaintance armed with a vague distrust of my man, which in anyone else would have militated against the formation of a speedy liking. But ordinary prejudices were of no power here, and I positively delighted in such share as I could procure of this man's society.There was only one thing, if possible, while I stayed with Mrs. Hales, that I preferred to a chat with Feodor, and that was the privilege of a little conversation with Madame, his mother. How perfectly beautiful and charming she was! What a world of resignation dwelt in the expressive eyes! And what inimitable dignity lurked in every detail of her appearance, from her silver-white hair down to the small daintily-shod foot, which protruded from beneath the handsome dresses in which her devoted son loved to clothe her.

What——. But there, I am turning just as enthusiastically rhapsodical as every one else whoever comes across these people, and to this day I do not know which I was the most in love with—the mother, or the son.It was touching to see the perfect affection and concord in which the two lived, and but for one thing I should have gone away to assure my baronet that there was not the slightest rift within the lute in this case, and that he need not hesitate to give the young professor any encouragement that would be likely to induce him to marry Miss Mabel Grant.I was slightly puzzled to note that Madame's eyes, however cheerful they might look in his immediate presence, always followed the departing figure of her son with a wistful sadness and anxiety hard to account for under the circumstances. For it must be remembered that, although not more than five or six and twenty, his prospects were of the brightest, and he was evidently gifted with perfect health. He had now the chance of more pupils than he could accept. He had, when possessed of more leisure than at present, given considerable attention to musical composition, and one of his cantatas was going to be produced very shortly by Mr. August Manns at a Crystal Palace Saturday concert.Certainly he was banished from his native land, besides being shorn of his title and estates by despotic usurpers; but he had so many compensative blessings, that I could not conceive of any ordinary reason for anxiety on Madame's part. When I explained the situation to Jones, he was strongly of opinion that all was not so fair and above board with the professor as it might be, and that something detrimental to the good opinion everybody held of him would yet turn up.Of course I began an enthusiastic disclaimer, and equally of course Jones cut me short with an impatient "For Heaven's sake, man, cut it short! I shall hate these people soon, if I hear much more about their virtues and perfections. Anyhow, I shall have a fine laugh at you when the inevitable exposure takes place."It was no use arguing the matter with Jones, and as my private opinion did not weigh much in the affair, I felt it quite as much a matter of love as of duty to ferret out all I could about the antecedents of the Plotnitzkys, and prove that there was nothing of the impostor about them.But my cautious inquiries produced no useful information. Mrs. Hales confessed that she knew naught of her lodgers beyond what they had told her, which was nothing more nor less than that the two were dependent upon the son's exertions for a livelihood; that they were of aristocratic birth; and that they had been deprived of their possessions by invaders.When I tackled Madame, very carefully, I met with no more satisfactory solution of the mystery. I had read up the history of Poland very diligently, and dwelt, when in conversation with the gentle old lady, at great length upon the enormities perpetrated by Russia, Austria, and Prussia upon her native land, and was especially eulogistic on the patriotism of such men as Kosciusko. But if I expected to rouse Madame's dormant national enthusiasm, I was mistaken, for she completely lost that air of high-bred calmness and distinction which so well became her, being decidedly nervous, and anxious to change the subject.I eventually asked her, in as unconcerned a manner as possible, what part of Poland she came from, but she simply replied that she never cared to speak of her native place, as to do so only served to awaken painful memories. Then, rising, she left the room, upon the plea that she did not feel well.Now, although I had obtained no positive information, when I came to ponder upon the negative aspects of the case, I found much to think about and make me feel apprehensive lest all my high opinions of this fascinating pair were going to be "unshipped," to use a nautical phrase.Evidently Madame had strong reasons for the silence which she maintained concerning the past of her son and herself, I wanted to be able to show the baronet that they really were the aristocrats they seemed to be, but it appeared as if I were going to be foiled by the unconscious subjects of our little experiment themselves.Refugees abounded in and near London, and so many of them were eventually proved to be fugitives for criminal instead of political reasons, that it was of imperative importance that those who had nothing disgraceful to conceal should be perfectly open regarding their past. Why, then, I reflected, was Madame so secretive? It was while pondering this question that a certain doubt entered my head for the first time.It was one of the many recommendations of this mother and son that they spoke English with a perfectly pure and native accent. Could it be that they were not Poles after all, and that the land of the Lecszinskys and Sobieskis knew them not? The supposition was startling. For if proved to be impostors in one direction, it was natural to suppose that all was not well with them in other ways.I had been nearly a week masquerading as a literary gentleman without having made any actual or definite discoveries, when our handsome young friend came home one day, looking very ill indeed, and complaining of frightful pains in his head. Every mother is alarmed when her only child is smitten with sudden illness, but I never saw anything to equal Madame's terror and prostration. We soon had a doctor on the spot, who found the mother almost as helpless as the son, who, after lying down on his bed, dressed as he had come home, seemed incapable of further effort or movement."He must be got into bed at once," said the doctor. "He has been overworked, and I should fancy he has had a great deal of worry, with the result that he has broken down. It will be a case of brain fever, I expect. I will look in again in an hour, by which time you will have him as comfortable as possible."I was the only man in the house at the time, and Mrs. Hales was unfeignedly thankful that I should be at hand to render assistance in undressing poor Feodor, who was by this time quite unconscious. But when I offered to commence this necessary duty at once, Madame became terribly excited, and implored both Mrs. Hales and myself to leave the room, saying that she could manage very well herself.As this was clearly an utter impossibility, for the old lady was very fragile, I gently resisted her importunities, and said that I would leave the room after seeing our patient safely in bed.But Madame became so excited and distressed that we hardly knew what to do until Mrs. Hales whispered, "I am afraid the poor old lady will be laid up too if we do not humour her. Just go into the next room while I try to persuade her. I will come for you directly."In two minutes she followed me, not, however, to urge me to return, but because Madame had fiercely refused to allow her to remain, and had then locked the door behind her to prevent intrusion on our part. We listened anxiously at the door, determined to break it open, if necessary. It was just as we expected. We heard the old lady panting with exertion for a few moments, and then a smothered shriek told us that something was amiss.In another second I had put my back to the wall and my foot to the door, forcing the latter from its hinges with very little trouble.A singular spectacle met our gaze. Madame had fallen fainting to the floor, while Feodor had sprung from the bed, and was wildly pacing the room, uttering unintelligible sentences, probably in some language which we did not understand. I promptly raised Madame and carried her into the adjoining room, placing her upon the couch pro tem. Then I hurried back to Feodor's assistance. He had already collapsed again, and Mrs. Hales was preventing him from sinking.Together we placed him upon the bed, having previously turned the covers down ready to receive him. Then we rapidly, proceeded to divest him of his upper clothing. No sooner, however, had we removed the vest than we made a startling discovery, which fully accounted for Madame's reluctance to permit us to remain in the room.A dramatic situation is none the less dramatic because it is hailed in commonplace language, and Mrs. Hales' horrified exclamation—"Oh, my goodness gracious! it's a woman!"—was just as much of a surprise to me as if her discovery had been announced in classical phraseology.A woman! Well, this was a complication I had never thought of! But I judged it best to leave Mrs. Hales in possession while I attended to Madame's wants, and held myself prepared to render immediate help should it be necessary. However, my aid was not needed, as the patient remained quiet for awhile. Not so Madame.On recovering from her swoon, she looked into my face, and, reading there that her secret was betrayed, she gave way to an outburst of grief which made me feel very sorry for her, saying that her darling Feodor was now ruined.I used my best endeavours to console her, but had not made much progress in this direction when the doctor appeared. He was considerably surprised to find that his patient was a woman who had been masquerading in man's clothes; but he was discreet, and promised to keep the secret until the mother could be induced to give her reasons for taking part in so strange a farce.A few hours later, our interesting patient was in the care of a competent nurse, who had been summoned after all traces of Feodor's assumption of masculinity, even to the smart little false moustache, had been removed, and we had persuaded Madame of the advisability of being perfectly open and candid, now that there was no longer any possibility of concealing Feodor's true sex.This, in brief, is the lady's story. She and her daughter were not Poles, as I had begun to suspect. But Madame was really the widow of an English baronet, and her daughter, whose real name was Feodore, had been born and brought up under the happiest auspices. Unfortunately, the estates of Sir Godfrey Bryant were strictly entailed, and when he was killed in the hunting field it was found that for neither wife nor child had any provision been made. The new baronet was greedy, insolent, and cruel, and barely gave his aunt and cousin time to vacate the beloved home, which they had never dreamed of losing.For Lady Bryant to think of throwing herself upon the charity of erstwhile friends was as impossible as it was for her to attempt to earn her own livelihood at her age. But Feodore proved equal to the burdens laid upon her brave young shoulders. After a good deal of anxious thought she announced her plan of campaign to her mother, but it was sometime before she could induce her to agree to it, though the reasons she urged were cogent enough."I shall never have the same chance of earning a livelihood by appearing as my natural self that I should have if I posed as an interesting male foreign refugee," she had said, and the sequel proved that she was right.A certain noble lord was taken into confidence, and his recommendations and testimonials soon procured employment for the young professor. Her own abilities and personal qualities did the rest.All things considered, I saw no reason why the brave girl's secret should be made public, and as the doctor and Mrs. Hales were also of my opinion, Miss Bryant might have figured again as a Polish professor after her recovery, but for one thing. I urged Lady Bryant to permit me to explain the real state of affairs to Sir Selby Grant, since his daughter was so much in love with Feodore that it would require a strong remedy to cure her—nothing short of the truth, in fact.Lady Bryant was not so reluctant as might have been imagined, for she was actually acquainted with Sir Selby, and knew him for a generous, kind-hearted gentleman, who would respect the confidence placed in him.But she scarcely anticipated the actual result of this confidence. I made it my business to see Sir Selby at once, and explain the whole affair to him, and he, in his turn, told his daughter that she had bes owed her maiden affections upon a woman. So far from this producing any ill effect upon the girl, she said that there was now nothing which need prevent her from visiting her dear friend. Her father agreed with her, and even accompanied her, to pay his respects to his old friend, Lady Bryant.Matters were kept very quiet for a time, but as soon as Miss Bryant was convalescent, she and her mother were taken to Grant Lodge, to pay a long visit to the baronet and his daughter.The last time I heard of them, Miss Bryant had become Lady Grant. Her mother was comfortably established in a dower house attached to the Grant estate, and she was perfectly idolised by her stepdaughter, Mabel, who has consented to marry Lord Gutherton at no distant date.As for myself, I received such a handsome special douceur for my pains, that a few such well-paid cases would have enabled me to enter my name on the retiring list long ago."A MARVELLOUS CURE"OUR client was not the sort of man to inspire us with admiration at first sight, for his originally sinister expression of countenance had been considerably emphasised by the fact that he had lost his dexter eye, and had at some time or other received certain injuries to his nose which gave it an up-hill-and-down-dale sort of look that was anything but ornamental. The scowl which dwelt upon his face may possibly have become habitual in consequence of the persistent ill-usage of the world, but it was not calculated to smooth his path in life, since it made everyone as anxious as possible to escape from its depressing influence.I confess that I did not envy Jones, who listened patiently to his complaints and animadversions for more than an hour. And yet, when I heard his story, I felt more than a little ashamed of the prejudice which I had permitted myself to harbour against him, seeing that I had only given him a momentary inspection while fetching some papers from Jones's sanctum. People who regard outward formation as indicative of inward character, ought to make all due allowance for accidental disturbances of Nature's original arrangements, and a man in my profession should never be too hasty in his judgment of human nature.This particular client's name was Jacob Grumphy, and he wished us to investigate certain matters which puzzled and vexed him not a little. He once had a sister, who married a man called Timothy Pumphrey, and forsook him for another world, presumably a better one, a few months later. Pumphrey was ten years older than Jacob, and possessed a fund of tact and diplomacy which initiated him so firmly in the good graces of Jacob Grumphy, senior, that young Jacob was unable to help feeling some degree of bitterness against him. To begin with, Jacob had fairly idolised his only sister, and she, in her turn, had treated him affectionately until Pumphrey appeared on the scene, and won her heart so thoroughly that she could henceforth hardly be bothered to speak to her brother.The father was just as infatuated, and idolised his son-in-law as something almost superhuman. This would not have mattered much to Jacob, who was not naturally of a jealous temperament, had not the father's affections been diverted from the son in the same ratio that they were bestowed upon Pumphrey. The latter was being perpetually held up to Jacob as a model of perfection, and when the misguided youth actually ventured to give it as his own opinion that Timothy was a hypocrite and a sneak, his father peremptorily told him that if he repeated such an indiscretion, he would banish him from the house.Some time after this, the house took fire, and Timothy Pumphrey promptly took measures to ensure his own safety, without even stopping to rouse the two Jacobs, who were still fast asleep. When Jacob the younger did awake, he found his room full of smoke, and the flames coming underneath his bedroom door, from the staircase landing, which was now in full blaze, and afforded no means of escape.His window overlooked an outhouse, and Jacob could easily have escaped without injury. But he remembered that his father was in the next room, and that he was probably being asphyxiated at that very moment. Hastily throwing the contents of the toilet jug over a blanket, he enveloped himself in its damp folds, opened his room door, and rushed through the flames into his father's room, to find the old gentleman already insensible, and himself almost on the verge of suffocation.The blanket in which he rushed through the burning passage was reduced to cinders, and it was utterly impossible for him to get back that way.So he quickly closed the door, tore the sheets into strips, knotted them together, opened the window, and lowered his insensible father, by means of the rope he had made, into the street below, where many people were already assembled to watch the fire. Just at this juncture, a ladder was placed to the window, and the crowd shouted to Jacob to hold on a minute till he could be helped down.But he was already dazed and partially unconscious. The tremendous effort required to save his unconscious father from his perilous position, together with the fast thickening smoke, had exhausted him, and he fell forwards, being severely hurt in the face by the ladder against which he struck. He was ill some time after this, and on his recovery found himself domiciled in another dwelling, together with his father and Timothy Pumphrey, whom he had hardly expected to see alive again.When he learnt that Timothy had escaped before the fire spread to the staircase, his disgust would not permit itself to be hidden, but denounced the cowardice which could seek its own safety without even warning others of their danger, in no measured terms. But even now the father's sympathy was all on Timothy's side, even his son's disfigured face being unable to bring him to a due sense of the fact that it had been obtained through saving his life, while his favourite had left him remorselessly to his fate.Timothy pretended that he had deemed it safest for the others to come out by the front window, and that he had done his best, by at once raising an alarm, and bringing others to render the assistance which he himself was unable to give. Of course his tale was about as lame a one as ever did duty for an excuse, but it served its purpose, and old Jacob would hear nothing against him.After this, matters got worse and worse. Timothy was an adept at veiled sneering, which the father was too obtuse to understand the true meaning of, but which drove the son almost to frenzy, and provoked him to such repeated outbursts of honest fury, that his father, who could see no reason for them, ordered him to leave the house, saying that he made the lives of its other inmates miserable. Since then he had supported himself very well, first by accepting the position of assistant to a ship-chandler, and afterwards, having been very frugal, by investing his savings in the business, and becoming a partner. His father and Timothy Pumphrey were also ship-chandlers, but he seldom came into contact with either of them, and his father, on the rare occasions when they did meet, showed no disposition to be reconciled to him.He felt all this very keenly, for he was naturally of a very affectionate disposition, and until two years before he came to consult our firm he had not even found a wife to fill the great void in his heart. In course of time Mr. Grumphy was attacked by an illness which left him permanently disabled, and for four years he had been confined to the house altogether. For three years he had been unable to walk a step, and his sad condition had naturally attracted much sympathy.Jacob, hearing of his infirmity, made two or three attempts to see him, but was always refused admission to the house, and treated to such insulting messages, purporting to come from his father, that nothing but the most forgiving disposition in the world would have induced him to risk a repetition of this scandalous treatment.Finally, he received a message to the effect that his father was dead. The death was not announced in the papers, and poor Jacob knew nothing of it until the very eve of the funeral. The crowning stroke of humiliation was put upon him when he was not even allowed to see his father's corpse. The coffin-lid was screwed down and could not be opened again, owing to the terribly rapid process of decomposition, which so often followed the particular disease the old gentleman had died of. So said Timothy Pum-phrey; and so said the undertaker, with whom nobody hereabouts had the slightest acquaintance. Jacob held the opinion that it was another outcome of Pumphrey's undying spite, but, of course, as he had nothing to substantiate this opinion, he had perforce to make the best of the situation.After the funeral the will was read, and it was no surprise to Jacob to learn that his father, who had all along treated him unnaturally, had now capped his persistent injustice by leaving every penny he had to leave to Timothy Pumphrey. Certain old friends of the family commented somewhat severely on the case, but Pumphrey could afford to defy their opinions, and as he was by this time a man of wealth, there were plenty of people ready to vote all he did perfection.Now, under ordinary circumstances, this little history would have been at an end. But Jacob Grumphy, though he had not really expected to be remembered in the will, was not satisfied about many things. The doctor who was supposed to have attended his father in place of the family doctor, who had recently been informed that his attendance was no longer required, came from a distance, and he it was who certified the cause of death to have been apoplexy.It was odd that this "doctor" should leave London shortly after, and no longer be come-at-able. Jacob's suspicions were aroused when, having determined to seek this gentleman, in order to ask of him some questions relative to his father's last illness, he found that the medical man who resided at the address, and answered to the name given on the certificate, disavowed all knowledge of the case, and assured him that he had never seen or heard of his father.He now determined to seek our aid, and we kept ourselves pretty well au fait with the various details of the case. It turned out that the undertaker, as well as the doctor, was non est, and we began to suspect that Timothy Pumphrey, aided by accomplices, had murdered his benefactor, in order to remove a troublesome burden and enjoy his wealth the sooner.Mr. Pumphrey himself seemed suddenly to tire of the house in which he and his beloved father-in-law had resided for so many years, for we discovered the place shut up one morning, and could obtain no clue to the present whereabouts of Mr. Pumphrey. Grumphy and Pumphrey had of late gone in for the carrying trade, and two of his own vans had removed the furniture the previous day. But in the night-time, before the vans arrived for the furniture, and long ere it was daylight, the neighbours had heard a cab stop in the street, and one of them, looking out of a bedroom window, saw three men in the act of lifting another one into the cab."It is Mr. Pumphrey," thought the neighbour. "Poor fellow, he must be ill, through grief at having lost the old gentleman he was so fond of."One of our men was instructed to ascertain if Mr. Pumphrey was really so ill as to be unable to walk, and he returned with the information that that gentleman seemed remarkably brisk and jolly. If then, the invalid, who required three men to lift him into a cab, was not Mr. Pumphrey, who was it? Singularly enough, we all now came to the conclusion that Mr. Grumphy had not died at all, and that his funeral was a bogus affair, got up by Mr. Pumphrey for purposes of his own, which could not possibly be creditable ones.Either some individual had in that case been buried in his name, or the coffin did not contain a corpse at all. The first thing to do was to discover Mr. Pumphrey's present abiding-place. We feared that if we took steps to exhume the coffin he might be moved to do something desperate to Mr. Grumphy, if he really had him alive and in his power yet. Our object was to lull his suspicions and get a little nearer the bottom of the mystery before springing the police upon him, in the event of our suspicions being well founded.There were plenty of ways of discovering where he had gone to live, but the most simple was to set a man to shadow him from his store, near the docks, until he saw him enter his own house, wherever that might be. The next morning we had the desired address, and our next proceeding was to send one of our most recently acquired assistants to Dalston, this being the place to which our man had removed himself and his belongings. Our new assistant was a niece of Bob White's, who had taken a great fancy for our business, and whom we thereupon decided to use in such cases as were likely to puzzle us by their domestic intricacy, so to speak.We instructed Dora to visit the registry-office nearest to Pumphrey's house, and make inquiries respecting a situa-tion. We concluded, as he was doing everything so secretly, that he would have dismissed his old servants, and be in need of new ones. A registry-office would be the most likely place for him to visit in search of fresh domestics, and our surmise proved perfectly correct.The newly-arrived tenant had applied in person for a housekeeper and a general servant. The latter was already engaged, and had commenced her duties. With respect to the more important post he had proved somewhat difficult to please. Dora, however, was very lady-like, and so handsome, that there was some risk in entrusting her to the mercy of a man like Pumphrey, who might fall in love with her, and exercise his undoubted powers of fascination upon her. But she was sensible and strong-minded, and was perhaps less likely to fail us than an older woman might have been.We provided her with plenty of excellent testimonials, and had the satisfaction of receiving a wire that evening to the effect that she had secured the situation, and was to enter upon her duties at once, as there was much to be done. Her clothes were to be sent to her the next day.In three days she found an opportunity of slipping up to the city, and then she informed us that Mr. Pumphrey's establishment, in addition to Mr. Pumphrey, herself, and the general servant, consisted of a man whom she believed to be Mr. Pumphrey's brother, and whose duties consisted in attending to the wants of an invalid gentleman. She was told that the latter was named Murton, and that he paid very well for his board and lodgings, on condition that a special attendant was kept for him, and no others permitted to enter his room, as he was very eccentric.He certainly must be eccentric, for he was in the habit of using very strong language, and there were perpetual altercations between him and his attendant, as well as between the latter and his employer. Once Dora, purposely loitering near the door, heard "Mr. Murton" vow that he would yet find some means of escape from his present thraldom, and that Timothy should live to be exposed and ruined.More Dora could not hear, for she was compelled to beat a hasty retreat. But this was quite sufficient to convince us that the invalid was no other than Jacob Grumphy, senior, himself.We managed, by means of a substantial tip to a grave-digger, to get Mr. Grumphy's supposed grave opened, without a lot of preliminary formalities, and verified our suspicions by finding nothing that had ever been alive in the weighted coffin.By this time Mr. Grumphy, junior, was in a state of terrible excitement, and it was with the greatest difficulty that we prevailed upon him to wait until all arrangements for confounding his precious brother-in-law were complete. It was decided to wait until the next evening, when Mr. Pumphrey would be home from a short business journey he had taken somewhere into Surrey.With the help of several policemen, we hoped to cage both principal and accomplice, and did not think that our quarry suspected anything as yet. Dora was to admit the police-men and myself into the house after Pumphrey had come home, and joined his accomplice, either in the invalid's room, or some other part of the house. Jones and Bob White were here also, for we were all very much interested in the case, and were all anxious to be in at the death, after having run our fox to earth.We got somewhat tired of skulking in corners, for we had to wait until eleven o'clock before our man turned up. When he did come, we concluded that some new move was contemplated, for he had a companion with him, and this companion was driving a cab. But both horse's feet and cab-wheels were muffled, the latter probably being supplied with indiarubber tires, so that the approach of the vehicle was a noiseless one.Of course some villany was at work, or such precautions need not have been taken, and we were very glad that we were here."Now, by heaven!" whispered Jacob Grumphy to me, "if they do any more harm to my father, I'll be the death of that scoundrel.""Hush," I replied; "be ready to slip quietly into the house as soon as the door opens. Miss White is a long time, but perhaps she has been unable to elude the men."Just as I spoke the door opened, and Dora beckoned in the direction in which she knew some of us to be hiding. The driver of the cab had fastened the horse to a railing not overlooked by neighbours, and had passed into the house with Pumphrey, so that there was no fear of our advent being betrayed from outside. But we had to make up our minds to ensure the capture of three persons instead of two.Some of us were already in the house, and the others were noiselessly passing in, when a strange sound echoed through the place. It was a sort of stifled screech. Then we heard loud oaths, and the figure of an old man, clothed in a white nightshirt, came flying downstairs and out into the street, hotly pursued by three others.The pursuers were promptly captured, and I am ready to swear that they were never more surprised in their lives. The fugitive was intercepted before he got into the middle of the street, and proved to be no other than Jacob Grumphy in the flesh, and in full possession of his former powers of locomotion.The old man was, however, greatly excited, and we could scarcely prevail upon him to re-enter the house. We finally convinced him that his formerly so idolised son-in-law was bereft of all power to harm him, and when he recognised his long-suffering son, his joy and emotion were touching to witness.The police took their prisoners off in custody, the horse and cab being temporarily impounded. They were eventually discovered to have been simply hired for the night, and were returned to their rightful owners, plus the noise-preventives with which Pumphrey had adorned them.Old Mr. Grumphy was able the next day to walk some considerable distance with his son, and is now living with the latter, well looked after by his daughter-in-law, and leading a life of ease and luxury, relieved by long, bracing walks in which he indulges every day.We were all very much puzzled to understand how it was that he could now both run and walk, seeing that he had for years been deprived of the use of his legs. His explanation is this:—For several years he had been gradually more convinced that his estimate of his son-in-law's character had been a totally wrong one, and that he had been very unjust to his own son. He would have liked a reconciliation, and vows that he never sent such messages as were delivered to Jacob in his name. Timothy pretended that Jacob refused to come near his father, but the latter, remembering, when too late, his son's forgiving disposition, did not believe this statement.Latterly he had been permitted to see no one except Pumphrey and the attendant, otherwise jailor. He remembered, some short time ago, being persistently drugged to such an extent as to keep him in a state of unconsciousness for a period of which he could not give the duration. Every time that he partially recovered, more stuff was poured into him, despite his struggles to avoid swallowing it.When he was at last left in peace for a few days, he was in another room. This night Timothy again attempted to force him to swallow a drug, and he was so convinced that mischief to him was intended that he got terribly excited in resisting his persecutors, and, greatly to his own amazement, sprang out of bed and ran out of the room.No doubt the excitement produced some great change in him, and many similar cases of marvellous cures by "excitement" or "faith" are on record, wonderful as it may seem.Putting this and that together, we concluded that Mr. Grumphy had first been drugged to resemble a corpse, for the benefit of the servants, who were permitted to have one look at him, just to prove to them that he was dead. The subsequent drugging was to keep him quiet until after the funeral. Then he received a quietus while he was removed, and lastly, it being found too much trouble to keep the secret of his existence, there had been a design to remove him elsewhere.He had never signed a will in favour of his son-in-law, having, while in comparative health, entertained a dread of making his will, and latterly having begun to suspect Timothy's professions to be less disinterested than he had formerly supposed them to be.The two accomplices proved to be the men who had officiated as bogus doctor and bogus undertaker respectively, and the trio are all indulging in a heavy term of imprisonment for forgery and conspiracy.The two Grumphys have now amalgamated their business interests, of which the younger man takes all the management. They are very well off indeed, and old Jacob sometimes wishes Timothy was released from durance vile, "For," as he says, "but for him, I might have still been a miserable and bedridden cripple, and it is to his rascality that I owe my marvellous cure."HIS LAST VICTIM"To AMATEUR AUTHORS AND OTHERS.—The Proprietor of a popular Magazine is prepared to pay one guinea per column for all accepted matter. MSS. revised, prepared for the Press, and introduced to publishers.—For terms, &c, apply to B. C. T., care of Schneider's Advertising Agency, Strand, W.C."Such was the purport of a cutting from one of the great London dailies that was put into my hand by Mr. Victor Rousby, a young gentleman of exceedingly prepossessing manners and appearance, whose object in coming to our office was to see how far we could aid him in unearthing a gang of swindlers, whose nefarious doings were ruining a great many credulous beings, who, unable to obtain a market for their literary wares, were induced to place reliance upon the treacherous promises of B. C. T.I will let Mr. Rousby narrate his story in his own words:—Nearly five years ago I asked Mr. Pinkerton, one of our great city financiers, to sanction my engagement to his daughter, Paulina. I had only an income of £300 per annum to rely upon at that time, but did not feel very diffident respecting my interview with Mr. Pinkerton, for I knew that Paulina loved me, and I also knew that when Mr. Pinkerton himself married the wealthy Miss Perry, both his income and his personal prospects were very much poorer than my own.I naturally thought that these things would influence Mr. Pinkerton in my favour, and was certainly not prepared for the reception I got. Mr. Pinkerton filled an aldermanic chair at that time, and was very much puffed up, both literally and metaphorically, by his banquetings on luxurious fare, and by his association with distinguished personages. Very pompous and self-consequential I found him, and his first words were indicative to me of a less cordial reception than I had hoped for."I'm afraid I have misunderstood you, sir," he said—very superciliously he said it, too—"I am really very much afraid that I have not exactly grasped your meaning. I suppose, however, that I am not far wrong in concluding that you have actually asked me for permission to pay your addresses to Miss Paulina Perry Pinkerton. Is that so, sir?""Well, not exactly," I replied, feeling hot and chafed at the arrogant and aggressive tone in which these words were uttered. "I have assured myself that Miss Pinkerton is quite willing to marry me as soon as I am in a position to set up an establishment, and I have come to seek your approval of our engagement."Then ensued the following conversation:"And you call yourself a man, I suppose?""I confess that I am not conscious of having committed an unmanly action.""Then permit me to arouse that consciousness. Do you call it manly to set about winning the affections of a wealthy heiress in a clandestine manner? Do you know that she will, if she marries to please me, have a dowry worthy of a princess? Do you know that her beauty, accomplishments, and fortune can procure her a title, and not a new-baked one either, at any time? Do you know that by intruding your vulgar, fortune-hunting claims upon her, you are deliberately depriving her of luxury and position? Or perhaps you have been good enough to anticipate that I would furnish the wherewithal for subsistence?"So far had Mr. Pinkerton proceeded in his foolish and unjustifiable tirade before he afforded me an opportunity of replying in self-defence. And when he did do so, what could I say but that I had been perfectly open and honourable in my mode of approaching Miss Pinkerton; that I knew her to be all that he had described, and that I actually had been presumptuous enough to suppose that the only child of a wealthy man would not come to me quite penniless! My protests that Paulina was the same dear girl to me, with or without wealth, were treated as so much bombast, and as the empty effervescence of a mind which found its schemes likely to miscarry.It is at any time a severe blow to one's self-esteem to have the dearest hopes ever cherished shattered at one cruel blow. But when the fell destroyer of our hopes couples his refusal of our request with sneering comments and insulting words, then we are apt to look upon this last stroke of fate as "the unkindest cut of all."It was so with me. I had never anticipated the endurance of such humiliation as I endured that miserable afternoon. And yet in the end I was able to consider myself partially victorious—very partially, indeed, as events have unhappily proved. Mr. Pinkerton promised that if, at the end of five years, I could present myself with twenty thousand pounds at my disposal, he would permit Paulina to marry me, provided she were not already appropriated. Meanwhile I was on no account to correspond with the girl I worshipped, and was forbidden even to inform her of the terms on which I had parted from her father.Preposterous terms! Vain prohibition! I had not been human if I had acceded unmurmuringly to every condition. How could I promise to leave England without one attempt to see Paulina, and to assure her that I would never cease to cherish her memory so long as she promised to remain true to me? It was simply impossible for me to leave her under the impression that all was over between us. If she did not feel that she could wait until my fortunes mended sufficiently to enable me to offer her a fitting home, I would at least assure myself that no mistake on her part as to my own sentiments should be possible.It was some days before I found an opportunity of seeing Paulina for a few minutes in private, for Mr. Pinkerton had forbidden me to come to his house, and the house of my cousin, Lady Mary Yates, was the only place in which I could hope to meet the dear girl who held my heart in her keeping.Lady Mary knew of, and sympathised with, my trouble. It is therefore not surprising that she should contrive to secure an uninterrupted tête-à-tête for Paulina and myself. It was just as I had expected. Mr. Pinkerton had made no mention of my interview with him, and had I not undeceived her, his daughter would have been allowed to believe that I had relinquished all claim to her hand, without a struggle.As it was, I had at least the melancholy satisfaction of a parting interview with my dear one, in which I was told that she would remain faithful to me, no matter what might betide."If," said Paulina, "you use your best endeavours to succeed in life, I hope your efforts will be successful for both our sakes. But even if you come back to me penniless, I will still marry none but you. Always remember, in doing battle with the world, that you are fighting for me as well as for yourself, and that never, never, NEVER will I be unfaithful to you!"I was comforted by, and grateful for these assurances, but, nevertheless, felt exceedingly unhappy, for this was to be our last interview prior to my departure to the United States, where I hoped to make a fortune much more quickly than I could do in England. The three hundred per annum I received regularly was derivable from the small fortune left me by my father. I determined to realise, take letters of introduction to New York, and seek the aid of some 'cute Yankee as partner in financial speculations.This programme was duly carried out, and I was extremely fortunate in finding a partner who proved quite as capable as I could desire, and as honest as the day with me. His abilities were more than a fair offset against my capital, and from the very first we were looked upon as successful speculators.To have a reputation for business capacity and luck combined is equivalent to the possession of any amount of capital, and we were soon enabled to conduct our operations upon a scale I had scarcely dared to dream of. Our success was simply marvellous, and I knew that unless some huge disaster should overtake us, I should, in five years, have amassed a fortune equal to Mr. Pinkerton's own.In order thoroughly to test each other's affection, Paulina and I had formed a compact to refrain from writing to each other during the five years of probation, and we religiously adhered to this compact. I was sometimes terribly tempted to break it, for how could I be justified in hoping that a handsome, charming, wealthy girl like Paulina Pinkerton would remain true to a man who was more likely to return to England penniless than not, and who, by virtue of his silence, could be little more than a memory to her?And yet I did hope, and frequently worked until my jaded body rebelled against the exactions of my will, in order that I might the sooner have a princely fortune within my greedy grasp.As explained, the fortune became mine, and six months ago, I embarked in a Cunard Liner, reached Liverpool within a week, and travelled straight to London, barely allowing myself time to see to the safety of the numerous valuable packages I had brought with me, so eager was I now to see the woman I loved, and discover whether, after all, fate had been most kind or cruel to me.Alas for my hopes! Alas for my supine adherence to a foolish compact! I arrived in Bryanston Square only to find the house tenanted by fresh people, who could tell me nothing of the former tenants, except that Mr. Pinkerton's fortune had proved a huge collapsible bubble; that he had died from apoplexy; and that his daughter had disappeared, none knew whither.Of evil news I had undoubtedly had enough, but this cloud of misfortune had, at least to me, a faint silver lining to it. Paulina was poor. Now I should be able to prove how disinterestedly I loved her. Paulina was unmarried, and alone in the world. Proof positive this that she had been faithful to me during her brighter days.But Paulina was submerged in the great ocean of struggling London existence, and might even now be fighting a desperate battle with want and despair. This was not comforting, yet I did not lose heart, though I must confess that this news, taken wholly, had been somewhat of a shock to me, in my travel-exhausted condition.At the Langham I refreshed and recuperated myself, and a little later in the day sought Lady Mary Yates, who was genuinely delighted to see me, although still ignorant of the fact that I had returned a wealthy man. When I informed her of the change in my fortunes, her congratulations were enthusiastic, but her cousinly affection for me not one whit less sincere than it had always proved itself.She was exceedingly sorry about Miss Pinkerton's troubles. She had had a suspicion that there was still a tacit engagement between us, and would fain have helped the former society beauty in her distress. But she was on the Continent at the time of the crash, and when, on her return to London in April, she made inquiries as to Miss Pinkerton's whereabouts, she learnt that she had disappeared from the ken of all her old associates.Since then she had instituted numerous inquiries about her, and was genuinely anxious to obtain Paulina's address, for it was her innate conviction that a girl so luxuriously brought up as she had been would be utterly unable to work, and that to beg she would most assuredly be ashamed. What destiny does Fate map out for such unhappy sports of Fortune? In only too many cases it is utter, dire, cruel, and unrelenting despair. What wonder, then, that I redoubled my exertions, and that I never rested until I obtained some clue to her whereabouts?Unfortunately, I but came upon a trace of her in time to miss her once more. This morning I learnt that she had been lodging at a certain address, but when I arrived there the landlady was able to help me very little. She had had a Miss Pinkerton staying with her, who had only left her two days ago, because she could no longer pay the rent of her room.In answer to my inquiries, the woman could only tell me that Miss Pinkerton spent most of her time in writing, and that she was supposed to be an authoress, though she had never so far confided in anyone as to say as much. She seemed very unhappy, and had come home the other evening in a state bordering on distraction.The next morning she paid the rent of her room, remarking that she could still claim sixpence as her own. She then left, without giving any information relative to her future proceedings. Her room had not yet been put in order for another tenant, and in the hope of finding some scrap of information, I induced the landlady, by means of the united persuasions of my tongue and a small douceur, to permit me to search the room.All I found was this advertisement, and the torn scrap of a letter from the advertiser B. C. T., suggesting that for the sum of five pounds as commission he would ensure the publication of some work, respecting which she had evidently written to him, attracted, without doubt, by the advertisement More than that I could not learn, and I have begun to despair of tracing Miss Pinkerton before misery has set a seal upon her existence.Cast upon the world with but sixpence! It is too dreadful to think of, and I am now feverishly anxious to secure all the help I can. Whether you succeed in finding Miss Pinkerton for me or not, I am sure that you will do your best for me, and I will pay well for every effort made in my service. But whatever is done must be done without loss of time.Such was Mr. Victor Rousby's story, and the promptest action on our part was promised. Besides being actuated by business motives, we felt genuine interest in the case. This was not the first time we had heard of the doings of the human vampires who fatten on the last penny they can wring from struggling authors.Their crime and cruelty is the more heinous because it is generally the unfortunate gentlewoman who falls a victim to their wiles. People who have plenty of money can always secure a publisher. Those who have made their mark in the literary world can also continue writing, in the serene conviction that their productions are now marketable commodities, for which a good price may be obtained.It is the unhappy being who is fighting a hard battle with destiny; who has neither money, reputation, nor influence to secure entrance to the coveted arena; and who is oppressed by all the agonising fears and fluctuating hopes of an uncertain future, who is, by means of false representations, induced to scrape the last available pennies together, in order to capture the ignis fatuus which fraudulent literary agents, so called, hold before their mental vision.Should any aspiring author read this, let me offer a word of advice. On no account trust advertising agents to the extent of even a farthing. It is their business to extract a living from you, and all they intend to do, or can do, is to obtain their commission. Publishers are not one whit more ready to accept your manuscript through an agency than if you presented it to them yourself for perusal. If you have time, ability, and perseverance, you will ultimately succeed. Meanwhile, on no account part with your money.There seemed only too much reason to fear that Miss Pinkerton had been victimised by B. C. T., and we set all our resources to work in order to gain some clue to her present address, for we still thought it possible that if she had parted with any money without receiving the promised equivalent, she would communicate with the wretch, in a vain endeavour to recover the money of which she had been defrauded.A youth who was employed by Schneider, upon being treated confidentially, was willing to aid us so far as to procure the address of B. C. T., if possible. He proved equal to his promise, and was more than satisfied with the two half-crowns he received for his trouble. Tampering with servants is a device which we do not like, and to which we never resort if we can help it. In this case we did not feel many scruples of conscience, since our operations were directed against at least one professional rogue.B. C. T.'s real name was given as Benjamin Charles Turner, and at present he was lodging in King Street, Cheapside. It will not interest the reader to learn by what methods we succeeded in procuring a private inspection of his correspondence, as well as of himself. Suffice it that our efforts in that direction proved thoroughly successful.It was appalling to discover what a large number of people were trying to attain the goal they coveted by availing themselves of the spurious aid offered by B. C. T.'s agency. One had enclosed a guinea to ensure the publication of an ambitious poem. Another had paid three guineas on behalf of a short story. Another had paid ten pounds as a guarantee fund, supposed to cover some publisher's risk of loss on the publication of a novel. Of course, this latter was only a form.The novel in question was of wonderful merit, and more than deserving of success, etc. The risk of loss was really a remote quantity. Still, the most improbable things do happen at times, and simply in order to provide against the apparently impossible, the ten pounds had been exacted. It is nothing to the swindlers that the money may have been scraped together with the utmost difficulty, and that the poor author, who has perhaps worked hard for six months at the novel, is destined to lose the manuscript as well as the money.It may prove matter for surprise to many that these sharks keep so many incriminating letters by them. My own theory is, that the letters are merely kept as specimens of the caligraphy of their dupes, in order that an attempt to run them to earth, and punish them, may be avoided. They know very well that in dealing with them, people who have been once bitten are twice shy, and would only communicate with them again, with a view to entrapping them into being caught in the perpetration of another fraud.From one letter we gathered that Miss Pinkerton had paid five pounds to the secretary of the bogus agency, and there were others demanding the return of both money and manuscript, but nothing to indicate that the demand had been complied with. We succeeded, however, in tracing Miss Pinkerton to another address, only to be baffled when apparently on the very verge of success.The landlady this time told us that Miss Pinkerton had gone out, looking perfectly dazed, and had told her that she need never expect to see her alive again, as she hardly thought life was worth living."And do you know," the landlady continued, "I really think she meant to drown herself.""If you thought that, how is it that you made no effort to prevent such a catastrophe?" I asked sternly."Good gracious!" was the reply, "as if I had nothing better to do than to run about after cranky lodgers that couldn't pay me a farthing, if I fetched them back that minute! Not if I know it! I've got plenty to do in looking after my own business, and I'll thank you to do the same."The concluding words of the above amiable speech being uttered, the door was slammed in my face very unceremoniously, and as I contemplated the wooden barrier before me, I felt very like Lord Ullin, of famous memory, in that I "was left lamenting."But no good was to be done either by invoking inverted blessings on the head of the callous landlady, or by lamenting the fate of the unfortunate Miss Pinkerton. The depth of unhappiness and poverty to which the latter had sunk seemed now to point in only one direction—the fatal stream which has welcomed so many life-tired souls to its turgid bosom.Strict watch was set at every spot, and at every time deemed favourable for suicide, while no other means of discovering Miss Pinkerton were neglected. For still another fortnight our efforts were unsuccessful. At the end of that time the lifeless remains of a woman were drawn ashore. The body was already very much decomposed, but traces of the bygone beauty were still visibleHere were the long, delicately-formed hands, the regular features, the graceful figure, the deep blue eyes, and the cloud of beautiful golden hair which had been described to us. I felt it to be a heartbreaking task, but, at the same time, knew it to be my duty to put a period to the terrible suspense which Mr. Rousby had endured all these weeks.His response to my telegram was prompt. I trembled for his sanity when I saw him draw the covering from the face of the unfortunate dead. Just a moment he looked at her, and then, shrieking aloud in his agony of mind, he cried: "It is Paulina! May Heaven's curse rest upon her murderer! I swear she shall be his last victim!"Another moment and he was gone, leaving me a prey to the liveliest anxiety on his behalf; but I could not leave the corpse until I had made some arrangements regarding its ultimate disposal, and it was half-an-hour before I was ready to leave the dead-house. When I did so I was somewhat puzzled by a piece of paper which we had found in the pocket of the unfortunate suicide.It was a receipt, drawn up in due form, certifying that Florence Cameron had paid the sum of two pounds ten shillings to Benjamin Charles Turner, and it was dated a month ago. It seemed odd that Paulina Pinkerton should be carrying a receipt belonging to another woman in her pocket. Indeed, upon consideration, the idea seemed so improbable that I concluded we had all been mistaken, and that this was not Miss Pinkerton at all.I was hurrying off to fetch Mr. Rousby back, in order to induce him to make a more careful examination, when my attention was arrested by two flying figures which were approaching me at breakneck speed.The first I recognised as the manager of the Literary Agency. The second was Victor Rousby. A glance revealed the fact that they were pursuer and pursued respectively, and as Rousby's parting words flashed into my mind, I trembled for the issue of the race. "She shall be his last victim!" could, I thought, only mean that he intended to put an end to Turner's powers of mischief for ever, and nothing short of murder loomed before my startled mental vision.I resolved to intercept the fugitive, and to protect him from personal violence on the part of the rage-maddened Rousby. The latter, I was sure, would afterwards thank me for my interposition, and it would be odd if the law could not find some means of punishing this villainous impostor.My intentions, however, were foiled by Turner himself. As soon as he perceived that I meant to stop him, he dodged me, just as a heavily-laden waggon was going by. I was never able to explain properly how it all happened, but I was the next instant the witness of a sickening spectacle.Blinded by terror, Turner had rushed right in front of the waggon, and in another moment was being trampled under the feet of the frightened horses. I endeavoured to save the poor wretch, but fell heavily to the ground. Another second and I was flung on one side, while Turner was speedily drawn from his perilous position. When I had got on to my feet again, it was to find that Turner was quite dead, his brain having been crushed in by one of the horses' feet. The man who tried to save him, and who was no other than Victor Rousby, was also so severely hurt, that we found it expedient to carry him to the nearest hospital.Truly there was no doubt now that Benjamin Charles Turner had been duly punished for the evil he had wrought to his last victim. But there are still many quite as unscrupulous as he in the world, and there are—unfortunately for them—still very many who are likely to be deceived by them.When I re-visited the hospital later in the evening, I was amazed at the happy appearance Mr. Rousby presented. One of his legs was fractured; but he seemed rather to rejoice in the fact than otherwise. When I left the building, after an explanatory interview with the patient, I was quite able to understand the state of jubilation in which I found him.By way of winding up, I think I will just let Mr. Rousby himself put the finishing touch to this story."When I left the dead-house," he said, "I had determined to thrash that scoundrel within an inch of his life, and then to use my utmost endeavours to put a period to his swindling transactions, aided by the law. I went to his lodgings and found him in. I was so enraged that I there and then began to castigate him. Apparently he thought that I meant to murder him, and he ultimately broke away from me. But I felt that he had not yet had half enough personal punishment, and as fast as he fled, I followed."What happened then you know. I am sorry I did not pull him from under the horses alive, as I would rather have seen him subjected to another sort of punishment. Sudden death was too great a boon for such a scoundrel."But enough of him now."I was in considerable pain when I first arrived here. But that was all forgotten when I recognised in the nurse who was assisting the surgeon none other than my own lost Paulina."You can picture our mutual joy! When I am well again we are going to be married, and I hope that our troubles are now over."Her fate had really been something like we had supposed. She was almost reduced to despair through being swindled by the Literary Agency. Still she was determined not to throw herself upon the mercy of former acquaintances, if she could help it."Just when she was most despairing, she met with two slices of luck. She received payment for a story submitted to an editor months ago, and she was successful in obtaining a temporary appointment as hospital nurse. She was now quite comfortably off, comparatively speaking, though she found her new duties somewhat trying at times. It was her intention to write to me in another month, when the five years of our compact would be ended, offering me the option of freedom, if I desired it."Of course, I don't desire it, but I need not have had all this worry, and she need not have had such a struggle with adversity, had we not foolishly made a compact that was unwise on the face of it, and still more foolishly kept it to our own sorrow."But as all is well that ends well, I won't grumble at fate, but will confidently look forward to being 'happy ever after."STRANGE QUARTERSMiss VIOLET NEWBERY was a very talented young lady indeed. So much so that everyone who knew her predicted a brilliant future for her, though the prediction was occasionally accompanied by a mental reservation. To the superficial observer this reservation was rather puzzling, for it arose out of Miss Newbery's greatest charm of all—her wonderful beauty. Beauty is in so many cases accounted the very stepping-stone to fortune, that to regard the absence of it as likely to be more advantageous than its presence has a somewhat paradoxical look.And yet it was just the one thing which Miss Newbery's friends would have preferred her not to have been possessed of to so great a degree, for the following reasons. Her attainments were such that she was eagerly sought for, and invited to every party or social gathering in the neighbourhood. None played the violin as she did. None could sing so tunefully and pathetically as she did. None could entertain the company by means of her great gifts of speech, her wit, and her tact, better than she could.Nevertheless, she had a very serious failing, which caused her friends a great deal of concern. She was inordinately vain, and would any day rather listen to a compliment to her beauty than to her abilities. And this was the rock upon which her fortunes were in danger of splitting. Given her musical and social gifts alone, she would promptly have made her mark in the world, would have further developed her talents, and would have maintained a steady run of popularity so long as her great gifts lasted.Her very beauty spoiled this hope of her friends. She valued nothing so much as praise of her looks, and cared no longer to perfect herself in art. Personal pride and independence of spirit she had none; but she had a certain indolent contentedness of mind which made her think that it would be far nicer to marry a rich man who might fall in love with her winsome face, than to carve an independent career for herself in any way whatever.She had admirers by the dozen, and it cost her parents a great deal of worry and anxiety to ward off the too effusive attentions of these gentlemen. It was hoped that Miss Newbery might be prevented from making any rash engagement until she had at least attained her twenty-first year, when she would be more likely to make a sensible choice than at present. The hope, however, was a vain one, for before she was nineteen the self-willed, headstrong young lady announced her determination to marry a certain Count Nokimoff, or none at all.Certainly, there was a pretext of asking Mr. Newbery's consent to the match, and that gentleman flatly declined to entertain any such proposal. But neither the Count nor his inamorata were inclined to yield to parental opinions, and Violet proved so little amenable to the dictates of reason, that she at last openly rebelled, and vowed that if she could not marry her Count with her parents' consent, she would accede to his prayers to elope with him before long.Now what was to be done with a girl of so obstinate and determined a nature as this?" She should have been put on a bread-and-water diet," say some. "She ought to have been gently persuaded that her parents were only acting in her own best interests, when they wished her to refrain from marrying anyone until she had arrived at years of discretion," say others. "She should have been firmly given to understand that in the event of disobedience on her part, she never need hope for further help or countenance from her parents," say others; while still more think that it would do such girls no harm to lock them up until they have sense enough to see things in their proper light.To each and all of these I can but say that Mr. and Mrs. Newbery used every wise argument, and brought all possible salutary influence to bear upon their refractory daughter, without any other effect than that of confirming her obstinacy.Of course the lovers found opportunities of seeing each other occasionally, and of exchanging innumerable vows of fidelity and constancy, and, equally of course, Violet was always more determined than ever to have her own way in deciding her future fate.When commenting upon this girl's perverseness, judgment ought to be suspended for awhile, until certain characteristics of the young couple have been duly taken into consideration. As before explained, Violet was highly gifted, but at present her highest qualities were overshadowed by vanity and love of flattery. No one knew better than Count Paul Nokimoff how to play upon these unfortunate traits of Violet's character. He constantly raved to her about her beauty, promised to introduce her to wealthy and cultivated society, drew very brilliant pictures of her future destiny as his bride, and thoroughly convinced her of his truly disinterested love by assuring her that he had money enough for both, and that he was rather glad than otherwise that her father positively refused to give her a dowry if she married before the age of twenty-one.Even Mr. and Mrs. Newbery felt bound to own that he could hardly be called a fortune hunter, since he had written to them disclaiming any particular wish to receive anything with his bride except their full consent to the union. But they distrusted him, nevertheless, and got us to enquire strictly into the Count's antecedents.Bob White was feeling a little seedy and out of sorts just then. It's a good thing to have plenty of work to do, and to feel sure that you will get paid for it. Much better than being face to face with an empty larder, warming your hands in otherwise empty pockets. Nevertheless, it is quite possible to have too much of a good thing, and to exact so much exertion from that wonderful piece of mechanism, the human body, that some of the gear is apt to get out of order, and cause a general breakdown.It was so with Bob. He had been working like a horse lately at one or two cases in which he was interested, and was almost knocked up. We decided that under present circumstances he was the one who could be best spared to take a long journey, and that it would help to set him up again. So he was despatched to a certain place in Esthonia in which the Count's ancestral halls were reputed to exist. He was armed with a photograph of the gentleman, purloined from Miss Newbery's album, and his business was either to confirm, or to confute, as it might turn out, all the Count's magniloquent talk about himself, his family, and his antecedents.In three weeks Bob returned, much better in health, and quite confident that Mr. Newbery need not hesitate to give his daughter in marriage to the Count because of any flaw in his pedigree, possessions, or character. Everyone in the neighbourhood of Nokimoff Castle recognised the photograph, and spoke of the original, Count Nokimoff, as being very rich and powerful, and very much kinder to his people than the neighbouring lords of the soil.He had, it was said, gone to London, intending to spend a year there in perfecting himself in the English language, prior to passing on to Paris, and thence to Berlin. He was a passionate linguist, and intended, when he left home about six months before this, to spend at least three years in studying foreign languages on the spot.So far the Count had turned out to be even more important and estimable than he had represented himself to be, and when Bob was detailing his experience to Mr. Newbery, he ventured to give a little advice on his own account, He suggested that if he thwarted his daughter's wishes now, she might possibly, in after days, bitterly reproach him as the cause of any trouble which might overtake her."Yes," Mr. Newbery sighed; "I have also thought of that, and if my girl's after-life were to prove a failure, I might also reproach myself. Many of our friends cannot understand my hesitation, and think that I surely cannot hope greater things for the daughter of a merchant than to become a countess. It is not that which troubles me. I am afraid of youthful marriages, and think it would be terrible for her to awake some day to the knowledge that she is bound for life to the wrong man. Such mistakes are the cause of one-half the misery in the world."But Mr. Newbery, of course, did not hold out long after this, and there was a very pompous wedding, quite a shower of wedding-presents, innumerable congratulations, and the departure of a radiant couple on their bridal tour. All the presents, except the jewellery, which the young people took with them, were directed to be sent to Nokimoff Castle, at which place the honeymoon was to terminate.In a few months the castle would be ready for the reception of other visitors, and it was arranged that Mr. and Mrs. Newbery should visit the Count and Countess in the autumn. Many expressions of goodwill were exchanged, especially on the part of the bridegroom, who assured his parents-in-law that he could never cease to feel grateful for his success in obtaining his heart's desire, and that he would all his life cherish his darling wife as the apple of his eye.The smiles of the Countess Nokimoff gave place to tears as she looked her last upon the kind parents whose greatest care in life had been to make her happy. They also felt much grief at parting from her, but little recked how many weary months would pass ere they ever heard or saw anything of their daughter again.Yet so it was. The days, the weeks, and even the months flew by without either letter or any other token arriving from the absent ones to give the slightest clue to their condition or whereabouts. Numerous letters were addressed to the castle in Esthonia. But no reply to them ever came, and at last Mr. Newbery could endure the suspense no longer. He transferred the management of his constantly-increasing business to other and younger shoulders, and he and his wife together set out on a voyage of discovery.When they arrived at Nokimoff, the whole village was in tumult. The terribly decomposed body of the Count had been discovered in a ravine about two miles from the castle. Stones had been rolled so as to hide the corpse, and in all probability it would not have been discovered, but for the persistence of a dog, which howled, and barked, and scraped so furiously round the spot, that the peasant who accompanied it was prevailed upon to institute search proceedings, and presently, to his great grief, found the body of his late beloved master and foster-brother.The ravages of decay had been terrible, and every scrap of jewellery or paper that could lead to identification had been carefully removed. Yet Krans Kepler was only too sure of the identity of the body. He recognised the clothes as those worn by his master on the day he started on his ill-fated journey to England. Also the peculiar make of the boots, in the lining of which Krans himself had purposely drawn a rude presentment of the dog Greif, when it had once been his privilege to clean them. The hair, the eyes, and the figure in general were all those of the beloved master. There was also one missing tooth, and one eye-tooth from which a corner had accidentally been broken, just as had been the case with the Count.Had any other proof been needed, it was apparent in the grief of the dog, which refused to cease howling, even after Krans had procured assistance, and had removed the body to the castle.And in the midst of all the commotion caused by this stupendous discovery, Mr. and Mrs. Newbery arrived on the scene. Their dismay and distress can easily be imagined, for if the Count was murdered, what had become of the Countess? The village priest understood a little English, and heard their story with amazement. He assured them that no word of the Count's marriage, or intended marriage, had ever reached them, and that he was not the sort of man to take so important a step without acquainting his people with his intentions."Our dear Count Paul would have instructed his steward to make every possible preparation for the reception of his bride," continued Father Michael. "The fact that he has never done so convinces me that you and I cannot be speaking of the same man. I am sorry, for your sakes, to be compelled to suggest such a thing, but I am afraid that your son-in-law is an impostor, and that he is no other than the murderer of Count Nokimoff, whom he has been personating.""But I myself sent a man here to make all due inquiries before I would consent to the marriage," cried poor Mr. Newbery, in great excitement. "Several people saw my son-in-law's portrait, and recognised it as that of Count Nokimoff. How do you account for that?""Ah, yes, I remember the gentleman," said the priest, looking very much puzzled. "I myself saw the photograph of which you speak, and remember saying that it was the Count. Of course, at that time, I entertained no suspicion of foul play. Now it is different. If I could see the portrait again I might possibly revoke my former opinion. Have you one with you?"For answer, Mr. Newbery took a carte from his pocket-book, and handed it silently to the priest, gazing at him the while with a terrible anxiety in his eyes. Father Michael scrutinized the portrait very closely and attentively for awhile before giving his verdict."I am sorry," he said at last, "that my carelessness should have helped to bring a fearful calamity upon you. A cursory glance at this photograph enables it to pass for that of the Count, but now that my eyes are opened by suspicion, I see many things which I did not observe when your agent showed me a similar one some months ago. The build and figure are the same, and this hand is shaped very like the Count's. He had a knack of pushing his thumb underneath his waistcoat, as you see here; and the ring upon that finger is one well known to me as an heirloom in the family. A sheathed dagger like that is the family badge, and is too awkward a design for a ring for it to be popular with any but the Nokimoffs."The origin of the device is lost in the mists of tradition, but the sight of that hand, in that position, and wearing that ring, would make anyone in this neighbourhood take the portrait for that of a Nokimoff, without even looking at the face. The face itself is, however, very different to the Count's, when I come to examine it closely. The nose and cheek-bone are more prominent, and the upper lip has a sarcastic curl in it that is barely concealed by the moustache. Another thing, although the face is bordered by the hair just as the Count's is, the very moustache being exactly of the same shape, it seems to me that neither of them follow the true contour of the face, and I have an idea that neither of them are natural, but are simply close copies of our poor Count's own peculiarities. But you may partially satisfy yourself on this score. The body is terribly decomposed, but I think that if you can face the ordeal of viewing it, you may be able to decide whether or no it is that of the man who married your daughter."Mrs. Newbery was prostrated with horror and anxiety, and a room in the castle was hastily prepared for her reception. She was certainly not fit to enter the chamber in which the corpse was already laid out in state, pending its burial with all due pomp on the morrow.The cause of death had been ascertained to be a dagger-thrust, which had penetrated the heart from behind. The light of many candles shed their pale rays upon the corpse, and loud weeping rent the air, for it was known that the next inheritor of the title, castle, and estates was a hard, wicked man, who enjoyed nothing more than cruel sport of every kind.No bright prospect was looked forward to by his future dependents, many of whom had been thrilled with terror by scenes of past brutality. The last visit which Alexander Nokimoff paid to the castle was forgotten by none, least of all by himself. He had a favourite hound, from which he never cared to be parted long together, as it afforded him rare sport. This hound seized an old man, who was crossing the courtyard, by the leg, and began to worry the poor soul in a horrible fashion. There were those who would have rescued the man, and who attempted to beat the dog off, but Alexander Nokimoff vowed that this was the best sport he had had for some time, and dared anyone to come near, on pain of death.With his riding-whip he drove off those who tried to save their comrade, and loudly urged the dog to continue his horrible exploit. The shrieks of the agonised sufferer afforded him exquisite enjoyment. The despairing contortions of the poor wretch caused him to convulse himself with laughter. The shouts and cries of the excited retinue of servants and dependents made him dance in an ecstacy of glee. The scene was too horrible for belief, but full well these miserable dependents knew that their own life would pay the penalty if they interfered with this infuriate demon and his sport, and that they lived in a land in which no attempt to do justice to the poor peasant is ever made.It was when the fury and brutality of Alexander Nokimoff were at its highest, when the dog had almost glutted his thirst for blood, when the cries and struggles of the mangled wretch were momentarily growing more feeble, and when the horror of the onlookers was merging itself in a fearful hushed expectancy of the immediately approaching end of this scene of carnage, that young Paul himself, having been attracted by the tumult, came rushing down the steps of the eastern terrace.In an instant he took in the full import of the awful spectacle. In an instant he had drawn a revolver. In an instant he had put an end to the bloodthirsty career of the hound. And in another instant he was raining blow after blow from his riding-whip upon his cowardly cousin, whose own turn it was now to writhe and shriek in agony—for your fiendishly ferocious brutes are always the ones who display the least heroic endurance themselves.He attempted to retaliate with his own riding-whip, but the onlookers, now that their own Count inspired them with his action and presence, prevented him from doing any more harm just then. He was promptly seized by an enraged multitude. His cap was torn off his head, his clothes were rent into tatters; he was kicked, he was scratched, he was slapped, he was thumped, until he must have felt almost as agonised as the man he had just tortured to death. Some cursed him, some pulled his nose, some knocked him on the ground, and then, by dint of vociferous and united kicking, rolled him before them like a log of wood, until they came to a pool of nameless filth, through which he was dragged, without mercy, being left at last on the bank, an unconscious, bleeding, reeking, revolting spectacle of expiring and brutalised humanity.It was not till then that the infuriated avengers realised that they had themselves gone too far. A panic seized them. They fled in all directions, and when a subsequent inquiry was instituted, participation in the outrage was brought home to no one. Meanwhile Count Paul had been directing others to carry the wounded peasant into the castle. But his intervention had come too late. The man gave a few agonised groans; his mangled head fell back; what there was left of his jaw dropped; and another soul passed into the sphere above, to call for vengeance upon its earthly oppressors.Seeing that no more could be done for the old man, Count Paul turned his attention to his cousin, intending there and then to order him to quit the neighbourhood. Of his cousin, however, he saw nothing. But he did see several forms speeding away in the distance, and conjecturing that they had been possibly carrying their desire to avenge their comrade's death to excess, he hurriedly instituted a search in the direction from whence the fugitives were running.At first it was thought that Alexander Nokimoff was dead. But he was brought round after a time, by dint of careful nursing and attendance. Paul, however, had no desire for his company, and as soon as ever he was fit to leave the castle, he was ordered to do so, and never to presume to return to it again.He did leave, carrying a mutilated visage with him as the sole trophy of his latest sporting adventure, and leaving behind him no end of curses and promises of future vengeance. He vowed to make his cousin rue the day he ever struck him, and he swore a terrible oath that he would never rest until he had found means to torture every one of his late aggressors to death.And this was the man who was now their master, body and soul, and who could whip the life out of them, and glut his cruel nature to the full! No wonder that there was loud wailing in the castle. No wonder that many who were here anticipated nothing but a miserable life and a torturing death in the near future, for they were powerless indeed in the hands of a cruel master, and knew very well that the Government would do nothing to alleviate their hard lot or redress their unmerited wrongs.Mr. Newbery, in the midst of his own grief and suspense, recognised the superiority of an even deeper woe, and stepped noiselessly up to the corpse, which Father Michael uncovered for his inspection."That is not the man whom my daughter married," he said, stonily. "She has mated with the murderer, and may even now be enduring just such a life of torture as such demons delight to inflict upon the women whom they get into their power. My God! help me to save my unhappy child before it is too late!"With this agonised cry the heartbroken father staggered to the outer air, but he was not immediately followed by Father Michael. The good priest had not been able to look upon the features of the beloved lord of the manor without an access of emotion, and his tears and sobs mingled for a while with those of the despairing multitude around him.When he rejoined Mr. Newbery, both men were calmer than they had been, and they were able to take counsel together as to what should be done next. The priest was able to re-assure Mr. Newbery on one point. Whoever the impostor who had married Violet might turn out to be, he was certainly not Count Alexander Nokimoff, whose repulsive disfigured face could never be made to resemble the original of the photograph.But neither of the two men doubted that he was at the bottom of the mischief, and it was by tracking and watching him that Mr. Newbery hoped, ultimately, to trace his daughter's whereabouts.The better to enable him to do this, he wired to our office or assistance.Bob was now immersed in another case, and felt no inclination to take a second journey to Esthonia. I, however, had no objections to taking a Continental trip just then, and promptly set off, first telegraphing to Mr. Newbery to expect me speedily.I found some parts of my journey interesting, but as a description of them might tire the reader, and as, moreover, such description would bear no relation to the develop-ment of my story, I will pass on to my arrival at Nokimoff Castle.Poor Count Paul was, of course, now in his final resting-place in the company of his ancestors. Not the slightest doubt of his identity could be entertained, but we hardly hoped to trace Mr. Newbery's daughter, whom we could no longer speak of as the Countess Nokimoff, for the mere circumstance of the true count's death proved that her husband must bear another name.The Russian police were supposed to be searching for the murderer or murderers of Count Paul, but Mr. Newbery placed no reliance upon their exertions, and wished for our assistance in a personal search for the poor, self-willed girl whose obstinacy had plunged her into terrible straits; that was sure, for, if things had been even moderately well with her, she would have found some means of writing home to her parents long ere this.That she must either be extremely ill, or be kept in close imprisonment, was the most hopeful interpretation we could put upon her silence. Mrs. Newbery was still feeling ill, and was utterly unable to accompany us on what might prove to be a chase of weeks in duration. So, instead of proceeding at once to Vienna, as we had intended to do presently, in company, it was agreed that Mr. Newbery should first escort his wife home to London, and then, if she was well enough to be left, rejoin me wherever I might chance to be at the time.Meanwhile I intended to use my best endeavours to unravel the mystery, and Mr. Newbery felt as able to trust me as if I had been Jones himself, which is saying a great deal. Of course I had picked up a large store of knowledge and experience within the twelve years during which I had then followed the profession of a Private Enquiry Agent, and was vastly more au fait with the technicalities of the business than when Bob and I first inaugurated it.Before Mr. Newbery left Nokimoff I gleaned every particular from him that could be of the slightest use. The priest confided certain things to me which convinced me that we were likelier to obtain hindrance than help from the Russian police, and that they certainly would never bring Count Paul's assassin to justice.As a student, the young count had become infected with the Socialistic spirit of the day, and he was regarded with suspicion and dislike by an autocratic Government, which did not think it wise to encourage such a strange anomaly as a nobleman who was the friend and companion of Nihilists, and who actually approved of educating peasants."I am convinced," Father Michael continued, "that our dear young master would have got into serious trouble very soon, even if he had not been murdered. He was only leaving the country for a time, I know, in order to allay suspicion, and I firmly believe—"But at this point the worthy priest turned pale and grew cautious."You will not betray what I have said," he begged, anxiously. "Even my sacred calling would not protect me if it were suspected that I had uttered such sentiments, or had any sympathy with anyone of the slightest revolutionary tendency.""You may rely upon my discretion," I answered, promptly. "My chief anxiety at present is to get to the bottom of the mystery enveloping Miss Newbery's fate. But, in any case, the system by which your country is governed is too repulsive to me for me to say or do anything that would assist in further iniquitous oppression.""Yes, yes; I might have known that," said the priest, now re-assured. "The fact that you are English ought to rob me of suspicion; but I have witnessed so many unexpected betrayals in my life that you must pardon my hesitancy.""You were going to say," I interpolated, "that either the Government itself is responsible for the count's assassination, or that it knows perfectly well where to lay its finger upon the assassin, but prefers to shield him."The priest's reply was mute, but eloquent, nevertheless, and it satisfied me that my purposes would be best served by refraining from taking the two representatives of the Russian police who were on the spot into my confidence. If they knew nothing of what I intended doing next, they could not warn my quarry in advance that I was on his track.To be sure, I could hardly say that I was on anybody's track as yet. Still there was one clue, which might possibly end at Vienna, to work upon. I have already mentioned that, no doubt to lull suspicion for some time longer, the fictitious Count Paul Nokimoff had left directions for certain packages to be forwarded to the castle. These goods had arrived in due course, but were at once sent away by the house-steward, in response to a telegram from Vienna, ordering the things to be sent to the Kaiserliche Hotel.It was known at Nokimoff that Count Paul had intended passing a portion of the time spent from home in Vienna, and it was never suspected for a moment that the telegram had come from any other than he, much less that the poor fellow was all this time lying murdered within the confines of his own estate.I expressed surprise at the fact of his having appeared to be travelling without an attendant—surely an unusual course for one in his position to pursue. I was, however, assured that such had by no means been the case. The count's own carriage and pair had been used to take him to the nearest station, and had been brought back by the coachman, as arranged, together with the statement that the count and his valet were now on their way to London."Where is this coachman now?" I asked Father Michael, eagerly."He left the castle again, with some more luggage, three days later, saying that he had orders to rejoin his master in London.""Was he a native of these parts?""No, he was an Isvostchik, whom Count Paul had picked up in St. Petersburg. He had done him some slight service, and the count, always generous and grateful, appointed him to be his coachman, in place of the man who had hitherto occupied the post. The latter had long been getting more and more incapable of fulfilling his duties, so the count assigned him a nice little hut to live in, and gave him a pension, intended to keep him in comfort and ease to the end of his days. But, of course, now that Count Alexander is coming, he will soon turn the poor creature adrift to starve.""Then he is not likely to have killed Count Paul?""God forbid! He owed all he had to the master, and knew that his only hope for the future lay in the master's safety, just as all of us knew.""Just so. Then the onus of this crime evidently lies between the coachman and the valet, who must just as evidently have been accomplices. Otherwise, either one or the other would have made some sign long ere this. Who was the valet?""Also a native of St. Petersburg. A smart, well-educated, polished sort of man, about the count's own age.——Good Heavens! How could I have so little sense? This valet, Ivan Kandieff by name, is about the count's own size too, and must be the very man who has personated him in London. Let me look at that photograph again."Father Michael was very much excited now, and I was myself so thrilled with professional enthusiasm that I fairly trembled with eagerness as I once more showed the pictured face of Miss Newbery's betrayer to the only man hereabouts who seemed both willing and able to put me on a right track.Once more he scanned the picture very earnestly, and then, passing it back to me, said, in a tone of contrite conviction:—"I thought, even when I saw that this was not Count Paul, that the face was nevertheless slightly familiar to me. I shall never cease to reproach myself for glancing so carelessly at it the first time it was shown me. But I now know what to do. We will go to the picture gallery, and look at Count Paul's full-length portrait. Mr. Newbery has seen it, and admits that anyone might easily have been deceived as I have been. There is a new steward coming this afternoon, and to-morrow the new master himself will be here to inaugurate what, I am convinced, will be a fearful reign of terror. I think you will do well to be away before he comes, for you will get more hindrance than help from him.""I intend to leave here the moment I have gathered all possible information; so the sooner we go to the gallery, the better."Father Michael, however, before setting off, armed himself with a lead pencil, which he carefully sharpened, and a few half-sheets of writing paper, torn from old letters. Like many more of his class, he was wretchedly poor, and had to be proportionately economical.When I at last saw Count Paul's pictorial presentment, I was for a moment myself deceived, for the attitude and general similarity of the two portraits were identical, the photograph apparently being a close copy of the oil painting, on which the sheathed dagger of the ring showed plainly.While I now busied myself in trying to discover points of difference and resemblance, Father Michael rapidly sketched a full-length figure on one of the sheets of paper. Presently he handed it to me, and I saw a face which was so dissimilar to either of the others that I shook my head in doubt as to the possibility of its being a correct likeness of the man it was intended for. But Father Michael just smiled quietly, and proceeded to explain himself."This," said he, "is as nearly like Ivan Kandieff as you will find anything. Observe that he has a very receding forehead, and that he has no moustache, but has an Imperial, and a little hair at the sides of his face. Now look here."As the priest spoke, he whipped a piece of indiarubber out of his pocket, and speedily erased all trace of hair from Ivan Kandieff's face. Then he sketched in a moustache, such as was worn by the count, and carefully transformed the head of sparse, straggling hair into a luxuriant mass of curls, which completely hid the semi-baldness of the original, and caused it to bear a very good resemblance to Count Paul.I was greatly delighted with Father Michael's ability, still more so with his promise to furnish me with a portrait of the coachman also.We returned to his cottage, and in about an hour I was ready to start for Vienna. I had got what I was convinced were no mean likenesses of the two men who seemed to be the murderers of the count, and in whom I was sure I recognised the swindlers whom I wished to unearth.Before leaving, I insisted upon the priest's acceptance of ten roubles for the help and hospitality he had afforded me, and also gave him my card, saying that if ever his condition became intolerable, I would do my best for him, should he find his way to London.But he shook his head sadly, though gratefully, and told me that whatever evil might betide himself, he could never forsake the poor people who looked to him alike for bodily and for spiritual help and counsel. I shook hands heartily with him, and with his final God-speed ringing in my ears, I set off for Vienna, arriving, after my long journey, at the Kaiserliche Hotel pretty well knocked up, and a good deal more ready for bed than for business.It was also three o'clock in the morning—not a favourable time for business, so I determined to have a few hours' sleep, a bath, and a good breakfast, before asking the manager to allow me to see the visitors' book. When I did ask for it, my request was readily granted, and I had no difficulty in coming across the two names I wanted.I produced the photograph of the sham count, also one of his wife, with which I had been furnished, and asked if these were the people who had stayed here under that name. The manager easily recognised them, but said that the lady was ill, and had a curious, dazed look not perceptible on her photograph. The count's valet had mentioned that she was of a highly nervous organisation, and seemed at times to have not the slightest inclination to speak to anyone. The count was exceedingly anxious about her, for when these melancholy moods came on he was afraid lest she would end her own life, as four of her relatives had done. It was not until after the marriage that the count discovered there was lunacy in his bride's family, but it made no difference to his love for her, and it was touching to witness his devotion to her. Everyone in the hotel noticed it.I listened to all this with some surprise, but rapidly came to the conclusion that the unfortunate young lady had been drugged into a state of semi-unconsciousness, in order to serve some sinister purpose. I now showed Father Michael's sketch of the ex-coachman, and was not surprised when the hotel manager recognised the man who had officiated as valet."Can you tell me where the party went to from here?" I asked anxiously."No, I am sorry I cannot oblige you," was the reply. "But I think that I can indicate someone who can. There has been a little romance connected with the case which has helped me to remember these people. We had a very pretty and capable chambermaid, with whom the valet fell in love, and who also lost her own heart. She left us shortly after the Count and Countess Nokimoff were here, and I have been told by one of my waiters, who was himself enamoured of her that she had since left home, to be married to this valet, whose name I forget. I will give you the address of her people, and it is possible that if you find Theresa Scharmann, you will also come across her master and mistress."Half an hour later I was talking to Frau Scharmann, who readily put her daughter's last letter into my hand, and begged me, with tears in her eyes, to urge Theresa to write at once to her poor old parents, who had vainly been expecting a letter for the last six weeks."Something must have happened to her," she continued. My Theresa was always so good and affectionate, that she would not wilfully neglect us.""I am afraid you are a little mistaken respecting my present ability to help you," I replied gently. "I am, indeed, going to join the count and countess as soon as possible, but I depend upon you to help me to find them. The parents of the countess have been tricked and deceived, and have never heard from their daughter since she was married. They are nearly distracted, for she was their only child. But we can trace them no further than Vienna, and this letter, I see, contains no clue to their subsequent whereabouts.""No, it was brought by hand, by someone whom Theresa had accidentally met. You will see for yourself that when she wrote it she seemed terrified and unhappy. What you tell me about the poor countess only increases my grief and dread. But, at least, it may afford some help when I state that when Knut Smitzikoff came to fetch her away, they were supposed to be bound for Berlin. If my man Hannes had but had money enough, he would have set off ere this to seek her."This speech set me thinking. Hannes knew both Theresa and Knut, of course, and had also seen the count and countess, as their carriage passed him on their way to the station. He might possibly be a material aid to their discovery and identification. I knew that Mr. Newbery would not grudge the additional expense, so I promptly offered to take Hannes with me, paying all his expenses, and leaving a trifle in hand for his wife.That night, after wiring to Mr. Newbery to meet me in Berlin, I was speeding northwards with old Hannes. Soon after our arrival there we were joined by Mr. Newbery, and then commenced a search which lasted for weeks, but which it is not necessary to describe here. We followed innumerable false scents, and met with some very trying disappointments, but were at last rewarded with success.I had been to the post-office to post some letters, amongst them being one to Jones, stating that I meant to return home within a week if our search did not prove successful. I was in a very bad temper, for I hate to be beaten like that, when I collided somewhat violently against a man hurrying from the opposite direction.We both looked up angrily, but, while the man passed on with a fierce exclamation against my clumsiness, I was delighted by the sudden knowledge that the work of weeks was now likely to come to a successful issue. For this was the face of Ivan Kandieff, not as it had looked when representing Count Paul, nor as I had seen his portrait when first sketched by Father Michael, but as it had looked when deftly bereft of its own hirsute adornments.Needless to say I shadowed him very diligently indeed, until I ran him to earth at the entrance to a large private house. I did not then pursue him further, but promptly passed on, without being noticed by him, and asked a gendarme whom I met to tell me who lived at the house in question. The gendarme, evidently acting under orders, would only tell me the name of the proprietor of the house, and remarked that, if I wished for further information, I might possibly obtain it at the Rechtigkeits Bureau. As I had already invoked the aid of the German authorities, I did not doubt that I might count upon a little help, now that I had located my villain.I soon learnt a few more particulars about the gentleman. It transpired that he was already an object of suspicion to the Berlin police, and his race there was about run. Alexander Nokimoff and he had been in Berlin together before, and were now proved to be spies in the pay of the Russian Government. Nokimoff had of late succeeded to the estates of a cousin in Esthonia, and had gone thither a few days ago, leaving his fellow-spy behind him. The two had managed to squeeze themselves into prominent positions, and were of late being encouraged to fall into a trap prepared for them by an already suspicious Government. Certain despatches were permitted to come under their observation, and another hour or so would decide what use they had made of their knowledge.They were being strictly watched, and their letters would be overhauled before being permitted to leave Berlin. Even while we were speaking, a message about Ivan Kan-dieff came to hand, and its purport was presently confided to me. The cream of the despatches had been promptly culled by him, and he had written them in French, prior to addressing the packet to a prominent Minister at the Russian court.Instant steps were taken to secure the traitor, and I begged to be permitted to accompany the search party, as I was very anxious about the lady who had been entrapped into marriage by the scoundrel, and who had never since been able to send a letter to her parents.I was assured that no lady had been seen in the house at all, and that I should have to seek elsewhere. But I was resolved to make the best of what chances were thrown in my way, and still hoped the police might be mistaken. I was very glad to meet Mr. Newbery, with old Hannes, just outside the Bureau. Of course, he was also eager to join the search party, as soon as I had told him what I had learnt, but we were not permitted to enter the house until the police had made their raid and secured their prisoner.Ivan Kandieff and Knut Smitzikoff were both in the house, and were easily caught, for they had never dreamed that they were suspected. It was far different with the two women we sought, and both police and ourselves had given up the search when Hannes spied a door leading to the roof, which he insisted on investigating before leaving.We pooh-poohed the possibility of two women being hidden up there, but Hannes was obstinate, and at last we humoured him. It was as the sagacious old man had suspected. This was an entrance to a long, narrow tunnel, formed in the apex of the roof, and at the end of this tunnel we came upon a locked door, which we soon burst open.The sight which met our gaze was so horrible that I shall never forget it to my dying day. There was no light in the place but that which entered through the open door, but there was enough to show us that our quest was at an end. On the floor, with nothing but a heap of straw under them, and nothing in the shape of bedclothes to cover them, lay the motionless and emaciated bodies of the two erstwhile lovely women.They had been cooped up here to starve to death! I can never forget the wild grief of the two stricken fathers, who had never, in their most desponding moods, pictured anything half so horrible as this. I am not ashamed to own that I cried with them, and that the two gendarmes who were with us were also much moved.Suddenly, however, Hannes jumped up, saying that he believed Theresa was not dead yet. This gave hope to Mr. Newbery, and inspired us all with the necessity for immediate action. Telling one policeman to run as fast as possible to fetch a doctor and some restoratives, the rest of us lifted the poor creatures from the floor and carried them tenderly out of the strange quarters which their inhuman husbands had provided for them.We were not a moment too soon in rescuing them, but the care bestowed upon them gradually restored both of them, though they were many months before they quite recovered from their terrible privations.It transpired that they had been intended for Russian agents, and their beauty was expected to lure and betray young men into the traps laid for them by this gang of spies. Both women proved refractory and obstinate, and, finding it impossible to mould them to their wicked will, their husbands had resolved to get rid of them, by shutting them up where they could hope for no rescue. One or two letters they had managed to write, but these had always been intercepted.Instead of food they were compelled to swallow narcotics and inhale chloroform, in order to keep them in a comatose state until death should end their sufferings. Perhaps the men did not care to kill them by other means, or perhaps they wished to prolong their sufferings, as a punishment for their contumacy. Anyhow, it was well that they did not adopt a more speedy way of murdering.When Theresa was well enough to travel, we sent her home in the care of her father, to whom Mr. Newbery gave a sum of money sufficient to take them home and defray the expenses of Theresa's maintenance until her complete recovery, when it was arranged that she should come to England to officiate as maid to Miss Newbery.A few days later we were all at home again, and I had no occasion to grumble at the remuneration I got for my share in this business.Ivan Kandieff and Knut Smitzikoff had so many crimes brought home to them that they "lost their heads'' altogether, before finally leaving this world, and if their widows can only recall their tragic past with feelings of horror, they have at least the satisfaction of knowing that the villains can trouble them no more.Of course we did not blazon the case abroad, and the friends of the people whom I have called Newbery simply imagine that Lady Paul Nokimoff, as they still call her, had the misfortune to lose her husband immediately after marriage. She is now a good, grateful woman, who would die rather than bring further grief upon her parents.I received a communication from Father Michael not long ago, in which he informed me that Count Alexander had been seized with fatal cramp while bathing, soon after his arrival, and that the new count was as just, as merciful, and as beloved as Count Paul himself had been.I will be perfectly frank with the reader, and own that I was very glad indeed to hear that the last of this unholy trio had been robbed of all further power to do mischief In the world.A FATEFUL HERITAGEIN the beginning of the year I877 our aid was sought in discovering the whereabouts of a certain Frank Mellon, to whom had been willed a large estate in Northumberland. Neither friend nor relation had heard of him for three years, and it was not known whether he resided abroad or in England.The last time he had any communication with his relatives was on the occasion of the death and burial of his great-uncle, the last surviving brother of his paternal grandfather. There had been some unpleasantness when the will was read, for Frank had always been led to expect a liberal proportion of the old gentleman's possessions, and when he found himself left practically penniless, he was naturally chagrined.Nor was he the only individual who thus unexpectedly found himself left out in the cold. There was a cousin named Fred Mortimer, the grandson of Mr. Mellon's eldest sister. He was already verging on middle age, when his hopes of inheriting under his uncle's will were finally extinguished. The blow was to him much more bitter than to Frank Mellon, for the latter was still a heartwhole young bachelor, and had only poverty for himself to face, while Mortimer had eight children as well as a wife to support and was head over ears in debt, owing to the extravagances of his eldest son while at Oxford, and the numerous attacks of illness which had curtailed his own earnings.Old Mr. Mellon had been very chary of his money while living, but had always spoken of Fred and Frank as his intended heirs. It is small wonder, therefore, that their disappointment was keen and bitter, and that they were disposed to attribute it to the artful machinations of Betsy Mellon, a maiden cousin of forty-five, to whom Mellon Grange and all its broad acres had been bequeathed, solely upon condition that she should spend the remainder of her days therein, and use her best endeavours to improve the estate.Betsy Mellon had had to fight life's battles very fiercely for a number of years. She had not been brought up with a view of earning her own livelihood, and her condition was truly pitiable when the death of her father disclosed the fact that he had left his wife and daughter penniless. There were several sons and daughters, but these were all married, and scattered in different places. Only Betsy remained to comfort the mother, and upon her devolved the task of supporting them both.She had managed it by dint of almost superhuman exertions, but it had been a very hard task, and she was proportionately thankful when her nonogenarian relative's wealth became hers. She resolved all sorts of kindly plans in her head during the first happy moments after she became aware of her good fortune.Her own immediate relatives should at once have their burdens lightened, she thought, and the cousins who had been led to hope better things for themselves should be partially indemnified for their disappointment. She had not set eyes on her great-uncle, Thomas Mellon, for several years, and was genuinely surprised at her own good fortune.But there were many present at the reading of the will who were not disposed to absolve her from all suspicion of having schemed herself into the good graces of the one wealthy man in the family. Otherwise he would never have set aside their own superior claims in favour of this uninteresting old maid.They were so angry that they hardly paid heed to some sentences which Mr. Tinbury, the lawyer, read for their enlightenment and edification from the rather bulky document in his hands. "And I have been impelled to this course by noticing the life of self-abnegation which my grandniece, the aforementioned Betsy Mellon, has led for many years. Long ago, she declined to marry a man in a good position because her father selfishly desired her to remain at home and nurse him through the fits of melancholy to which he was subject whenever he remembered how extravagantly foolish he had been. It had once been my intention to leave my possessions to Frank Mellon, my grand-nephew, but I consider him quite capable of doing well for himself, and believe that he would only be spoiled by having good fortune thrust upon him before he has tackled the world fairly. His cousin, another grand-nephew, Frederick Mortimer by name, has also claimed my attention at times. But I do not quite relish the ôle he has assigned me in his thoughts. I know very well that he just regards me as a tough old customer, who ought long ago to have departed this life. He longs for my death, that he and his ill-natured wife may be rich. A little gossip on this subject has come round to me, so I have determined to give him his due reward of temporary disinheritance. The individual who kindly gave me the information above alluded to will not reap the benefit he expected from poisoning my mind against other relatives, as I do not intend to leave him one penny. I trust that Betsy Mellon may live long, and use her wealth judiciously. By way of consoling the relatives who have at different times imagined themselves my heirs, I decree that on the death of Betsy Mellon the estate shall revert to her mother, should she still be living. Failing Mrs. Mellon, Frederick Mortimer shall next inherit, with reversion to his wife. Should Frank Mellon outlive all these, he is to inherit the estate and personalty, without any other restriction than that which I impose upon all my successive heirs, viz., that they shall reside in Mellon Grange, so long as it is in their possession."It was a rather odd and arbitrary will; but those who were not affected by its provisions were inclined to vote it a sensible one upon the whole. Unfortunately, the persons most immediately concerned did not regard it in that light, and Mrs. Mortimer became absolutely vituperative.Spiteful at all times, she was now positively venomous, and her utterances were so insulting, that she effectually alienated any sympathy which might otherwise have been felt for her in her intense disappointment. When she got up that morning she had looked out upon wooded slopes, silver streams, emerald meadows, and waving cornfields with a glow of exultation at her heart."All this is ours," she had told herself, and it was simply dreadful to find this delightful certainty reduced to airy nothingness. She had never troubled herself to restrain her feelings, but her outspokenness on this occasion surprised even her husband. She accused Miss Mellon of a thousand mean, underhand tricks, and asserted pointblank that Frank Mellon was the sneaking tell-tale who had deprived her husband of his inheritance.Mr. Tinbury was glad to beat a retreat, and he says that that scene was about as unpleasant as any it has been his fortune to be present at in the whole course of his legal experiences.Betsy Mellon was so pained by all the cruel, undeserved things that were said against her, that she felt it to be impossible that she could ever hold out the right hand of fellowship to her relatives. Frank Mellon was so enraged and disappointed that he vowed never to look upon their faces again. Nor was he at all sparing in his adjectives when speaking to Mr. Mortimer. It was bad enough to be left penniless, without being accused of being a sneak into the bargain. So he retorted pretty pertinently whenever any of the Mortimer venom was levelled at him.But he had sufficient sense of justice to refrain from insulting the fortunate heiress. He knew her to be a good woman, and but for the commotion raised by the Mortimers, would have left the place without any audible expression of his feelings.Before leaving, he so far overcame his chagrin as to shake hands with Miss Mellon, and to observe that if he had not got what he considered his own deserts, he was ready to admit that the estate had fallen into equally deserving hands."Do not go away. We may be able to make some mutually satisfactory arrangement," said Miss Mellon, with difficulty restraining the emotion evoked by Mrs. Mortimer's accusation.But Frank had no notion of receiving in charity a portion of that which he had expected as his due, and he refused to stay any longer in the house. Since then he had never communicated with any relatives, and to find him now seemed almost hopeless.After his departure, the scene at The Grange had become more lively still. Mrs. Mortimer grew more and more outrageous, until at last Mrs. Mellon, who had hitherto sat a silent spectator of the scene, could no longer endure to see her daughter insulted, and retaliated with some home truths, which fairly stung Mrs. Mortimer to madness."How dare you presume to speak in that manner to me?" the latter shrieked. "Do you think that I will submit to be robbed like this, without telling you what I think of you and your scheming old maid of a daughter? You have gained riches by trickery and underhand work. But I warn you, that this will prove a fateful heritage, for my curses go with it, and I pray that both your lives may be blighted, so that we may the sooner enter into that which is ours."For a moment there was a dead silence in the room. Then the old lady, looking calm and dignified, replied with solemn deliberation:—"Curses, like chickens, Madam, always come home to roost, and you may rest assured that it is out of your power to invoke any evil destiny upon us which will not be shared by yourself.""We shall see," was the vindictive reply. "Even if no other evil results accrue to you soon, I shall at least have the satisfaction of knowing that I have made you uncomfortable, for it cannot be pleasant to know that somebody is cursing you every day of your life, as I mean to do."Here Mr. Mortimer intervened, and eventually succeeded in silencing his wife. Shortly afterwards, the fuming pair left The Grange, and it is hardly surprising that Miss Mellon never condescended to make any overtures of friendship to them, after what had taken place.For a time all went well with the two ladies. Mr. Simpson, the steward, proved a very capable manager of the estate, and Miss Mellon was content to let things remain in his hands, so long as he did not oppress the tenants, or refuse to accede to any just demands they might make.Naturally, both mistress and steward became very popular, and for a time it seemed as if Mrs. Mortimer's venomous utterances were going to be negatived by a long reign of health and prosperity. But trouble came only too soon. Miss Mellon sickened, and became languid and melancholy, although she made brave efforts to rouse herself, for her mother's sake.Her medical adviser pronounced her ailment to be constitutional and hereditary, but she herself thought nothing of the sort. She had resembled her late father in nothing whatever, and as her low spirits were the only thing which could remind her rather antiquated doctor of her father's weaknesses, she scouted the theory of heredity."I want some tonics," she said decidedly. "You must know of something that will do me good, for my ailment springs entirely from physical derangement. By insinuating that I have inherited a tendency to melancholia from my father, you accuse me of being diseased in mind, a deduction I decline to accept.""Certainly," thought Dr. Blind; "Miss Mellon has a good deal more common sense than her father had. All the same, heredity is at the bottom of it, and it's no use fighting against fate."By which it will be seen that the good doctor was an ultra-conservative, and very much behind the age in many things. He had got heredity on the brain, and when Miss Mellon rapidly grew worse, he was in no wise astonished."Just like her poor father. I knew it would come," he mused, with a self-satisfied approval of his own acumen, which was deeply discounted by the genuine regret he felt at Miss Mellon's approaching fate.Oddly enough, he entirely ignored the fact that, although she was now occasionally despondent, her physical symptoms were nothing like her father's. Mrs. Mellon, however, was a less prejudiced judge, and, becoming seriously alarmed about her daughter's condition, she summoned a London physician to her aid. Too late, however, for within another week Betsy Mellon was gathered to her forefathers, and her fateful heritage had now reverted to her mother.Dr. Blind and Mrs. Mortimer had a little awesome conversation on the subject, and so impressed was Mrs. Mortimer by the conviction that her cousin's death was to be attributed to her own wild curses that she there and then implored God's pardon for her misdeeds; resolved henceforth to lead a useful and God-fearing life; and prayed that Mrs. Mellon's life might be spared, as a token that she herself was forgiven.But it was all in vain, for barely had three more months gone by, when the mother also sickened, and soon after there was another mournful procession, showing that one more of the inheritors of Mellon Grange had joined the great majority.At one time the Mortimers would have felt wildly joyous at the prospect of speedily entering into possession of the beautiful estate which they had coveted all their life long. Now, their exultation was tempered by a superstitious remorse and fear. Mr. Mortimer's disappointments had robbed him of life and vigour, and he was by no means strong. Mrs. Mortimer was continually haunted by dread. "To my wickedness and madness must the death of my aunt and cousin be attributed," she thought remorsefully. "If one part of that evil day's utterances have come true, how dare I hope that we can escape our share of the curse? I feel convinced that we shall not enjoy our wealth long enough to enable us to make the slightest provision for our younger children. Were it not for them I would not care, for I feel almost tired of life, with the haunting dread of retribution ever on my mind."Nor was Mr. Mortimer so glad as he might have been expected to be, and when he removed himself and his belongings to the Grange, he was so imbued with his wife's fears that cheerfulness was an impossibility with him. By way of making the best use of the short time which he believed to be at his disposal, he lived very economically, in order to save something for his children, and, in addition, he insured his life for £10,000, his wife doing the same.When several months passed by, and the curse seemed to have passed them over, both husband and wife grew much more cheerful. Whatever might betide, their children would be well provided for, for the requisite interval ere the li e policies would become payable was already tided over, and the children would not be doomed to the poverty their parents had had to endure.Barely twelve months, however, had the Mortimers been in possession, when the fell destroyer overtook the husband and father, leaving the wife, at least, almost distracted between fear and grief."It is the curse!" she moaned incessantly. "Soon it will be my turn, and then what will become of poor Ada? Oh God, spare me, for her sake!"Ada, poor child, needed all a mother's love and tender care. She had been racing down the broad, handsome staircase, and, being full of fun and frolic, and determined to win the race, had availed herself of the help of the baluster rail, with the result that she had fallen down into the hall below with a sickening crash. Her spine was hurt, and, for her, life henceforth held no better prospect than that of a chained and helpless cripple, who would never more run about in the dear, good God's beauteous sunshineHer mother's grief was all the more bitter and despairing, inasmuch as she regarded this calamity as a foretaste of what she might expect as a result of that ill-advised curse, which, in her case, had truly come home to roost long ago.All her prayers and hopes now seemed to be directed towards Ada. For her she lived. And for her she was even ready to die, if it would have brought health and strength to her darling.She pondered anxiously and long as to the best means of at least retarding the fulfilment of the judgment which she firmly believed to have brought upon herself. She was now a truly reformed and estimable woman, and the anguish of mind she had suffered had completely banished every selfish instinct which had once been so predominantly characteristic of her disposition.This being so, it is not surprising that she eventually decided to relinquish her heritage in favour of Frank Mellon. "he curse has nothing to do with him," she argued; "he is not likely to suffer by inheriting this miserable property. Whatever sufferings may accompany its possession now, they will, in all justice, cease when a man who was not even present at the climax of that unhappy quarrel becomes its owner. If I can but find him, and transfer the estate to him, he will be happy and prosperous, and I shall perhaps save my life for years of usefulness by abandoning that which has brought our doom upon us."So fixedly was Mrs. Mortimer imbued with this idea that she at once, in spite of the opposition of her elder children, instituted a search for her missing cousin, and empowered Mr. Tinbury to see that all legal means of transfer were duly observed. It was at this stage of the proceedings that our services were called into requisition. But we were several months before our search was successful. Ultimately, however, by a mere fluke, we found our man, and made known to him the impending change in his circumstances.Jones had lately gone to live in a more comfortable and pretentious dwelling than he had hitherto felt satisfied with. But there was something wrong about the drains, and he had to engage the services of a sanitary engineer to ferret out the origin of the evil smells which offended the nose. As it happened, the engineer to whom he applied was away from home, but a smart, businesslike man attended in his place, and soon conquered the problem of efficient sanitation.Curiously enough, Jones had two or three interviews with this man before he discovered that his name was Frank Mellon, and that he was the very individual of whom we were in search. It seemed strange that he had not seen the advertisements which we had from time to time inserted in the papers, but he explained that it was so late in life before it became evident that he must earn his own living, and that he had so much to fetch up, that he seldom gave himself time to read anything, except such matters as were likely to prove useful to him in his profession.He heard the story we had to tell him with some amazement, but we found it rather difficult to persuade him to go down to Mellon Grange at once, until a letter from Doctor Blind arrived, saying that both Mrs. Mortimer and two of her children were so ill that he considered their recovery very doubtful indeed.After that he hesitated no longer, but at once took the next available train to the Northumbrian station which was nearest to Mellon Grange.The remainder of this story is best told in a letter which Jones received from Mr. Mellon a few weeks later."Dear Jones," it ran, "I promised to let you know how I found things at Mellon Grange, and what were the subsequent dénouements."Were there not such a strong tragic element in the case, I should be exceedingly amused. When I got down here, I found the house full of sickness, and everybody, including that dunderheaded Doctor Blind, ready to admit the angel of death at the first opportunity. I straightway telegraphed for Bright, who was luckily at home, and got here the next morning. Mrs. Mortimer was suffering from typhoid fever, aggravated by religious mania, and two of the bairns were also in typhoid's grim grip. I could have brained that fool of a country doctor, for I do not believe either my aunt or my cousins would have died, if he hadn't been such an out-and-out ignoramus. It is awful to think what mischief such people as he can work in the world, by inducing other people to trust their lives in their keeping."Of course, having discovered typhoid to be the scourge here, I set about hunting for the cause of it, and speedily found it, too. Some drain pipes were knawed and nibbled by rats until enough offensive effluvia arose from them to poison a whole neighbourhood, and the longer the mischief passed undetected, the worse would it grow. I flatter myself that the curse is by this time thoroughly laid. My cousin and her children, turned over to efficient treatment, are already on the high road towards recovery. Even the child Ada, whom the country doctors had given up as incurable, will be as right as ninepence in twelve months, so Bright says. Having got everybody and everything all round cured, I would have betaken myself to London again, for I am quite able now to pick up a good living. But my cousin, though ready to believe that the rats, and not the curse, have been at the bottom of the mischief, insists that I have a better right than she to the property. So I am staying on, on condition that she accepts a handsome income from the estate yearly. Her eldest daughter is a beautiful girl, and I should not be surprised if she accepted the proposal I mean to make to her at no distant date. If she does, we can amalgamate family interests to the satisfaction of everybody all round. In any case, I think the notion that Mellon Grange is a fateful heritage is knocked on the head altogether."THE BROKEN COMPACTIT was in the beginning of the year 1879 that we were asked to discover the whereabouts of a certain Harold Ralston, who had failed to fulfil some important engagements into which he had entered.The story was a somewhat peculiar one. Mr. Ralston had for some time been engaged to be married to Miss Beatrice Leeson, a young lady whose pleasant appearance, amiable temperament, and prospective means, made her a great source of attraction to bachelors on the look-out for a safe and profitable matrimonial investment.Although not of an insensible temperament, however, Miss Leeson had reached the age of twenty-five heartwhole, in spite of the many sieges which had been laid to that most coveted organ. When she did eventually succumb to the machinations of erratic little Amor, her friends were nearly all astonished at her choice, for Mr. Ralston was not quite the sort of being whom popular prejudice would suppose to be the beau-idéal of a much-sought young lady's dreams.To begin with, he was Miss Leeson's senior by fifteen years, and not exactly handsome, though even his enemies admitted that his face, when lighted up in earnest conversation, had a certain fascination of its own, beside which mere regularity of feature paled into insignificance. An accident in youth had resulted in one leg being left shorter than the other, necessitating the use of a boot with a sole three inches thick. This itself would have repelled many young ladies, but Miss Leeson was made of sterling stuff, and prided herself upon applying common-sense tests to every person with whom she came into contact.She could not see that a disparity in the length of Mr. Ralston's legs would make the slightest difference to his mental or moral calibre, any further than that it might tend to make him unduly depreciative of his own physical attractions. He was good-tempered, well-educated, a splendid conversationalist, but somewhat given to be oversanguine about monetary affairs, and always devising some fresh means of investing his small capital to advantage.Oddly enough, though the majority of his financial schemes failed, he never lost heart, but immediately concentrated his attention upon something else, equally full of promise, and equally liable to be disappointing in its results. A financier, he called himself. A speculator, so said most of his acquaintances. A not-too-much-to-be-trusted adventurer, said a few. As, however, he managed to pick up a good livelihood; lived in luxuriously-furnished rooms; and always dressed well, talked well, and behaved as a polished gentleman, he had the entree to many well-to-do houses, among them that of Mr. Willard Leeson, Beatrice Leeson's uncle.This Mr. Willard Leeson was a very jolly individual, much given to entertaining company, and of the most credulous and easy-going nature imaginable. It was fortunate for the firm of Leeson Bros, and Leeson, that Willard of that ilk was not the managing partner, and that he bore no active part in its pecuniary arrangements. For it is certain that if he had done so, his trusting disposition would long ere this have brought about a financial collapse.Yet, although this was the case, he was exceedingly useful, and, being entitled to share profits equally with his elder brother and cousin, both married men with families, he might have been supposed to have more ready money at his command than they, seeing that he was still a bachelor, who made a very modest house, worked by only two servants, suffice for his comfort. As a matter of fact, he was so generous, and so lavish in his expenditure, that it was a standing joke in the firm that the poorest clerk in it contrived generally to have more ready money in his pocket than Mr. Willard Leeson.It was somewhat of a surprise, therefore, when he suddenly manifested a tendency to economise, and laid considerable restrictions as to prices and quantities upon the tradespeople whom he patronised. He also entertained less company than usual. But there was one guest who was always welcome, and who, seemingly, could never come too often.This was Harold Ralston, with whom he appeared thoroughly infatuated. Not more so, however, than was his niece Beatrice, and her parents were, for the first time in their lives, thoroughly angry with Willard, who had, they considered, been very culpable in bringing Ralston and Beatrice together."And yet," poor Mrs. Leeson would say, mournfully, "after all, how could he dream that the perverse girl would ignore several handsome and tolerably well-to-do suitors in favour of a man who is plain, lame, and almost penniless? I have always thought there was something wrong about Beatrice, or she would never have refused so many nice fellows and kept single until she was nearly twenty-six, while both her younger sisters have already done well for themselves. Now that she has fallen in love after this insane fashion, I am quite sure that she is slightly weak brained.""Slightly be hanged!" growled Mr. Leeson, irascibly, and by no means over-politely. "She would have been disposed of long since if there had been the slightest trace of weakness about her brain. It takes a strong, sensible mind to resist all the coaxing and flattery that have been bestowed upon her for the last seven years. I suppose there must be something in the fellow that we don't see, for Willard is as wrapt up in him as Beatrice is.""Willard's a fool," snapped Mrs. Leeson, glad to find some outlet for the vexation which was consuming her."For once in your life you have expressed yourself correctly, and to the point," her amiable spouse rejoined. "But the fact that Willard is proving himself to be a fool does not solve the question at issue. Ralston has asked our consent to his marriage with Beatrice. Are you prepared to give it?""If I did not know your own sentiments on the subject, I should be inclined to class you as Willard's superior in your claims to dotage," replied Mrs. Leeson, with perfectly waspish frankness. "As, however, I know that you dislike Mr. Ralston, and are perfectly aware that I positively hate him, I do not doubt that you expect my answer to be a very positive negative.""Sounds paradoxical, but just expresses my own sentiments. When Ralston comes back for his definite answer this evening, he shall have one he does not like. He deserves a pretty warm snub for presuming to ask a girl who has always lived in luxury to share his by-no-means-to-be-envied want of fortune."What more Mr. Leeson would have said on the subject was here cut short by his daughter's entrance. She had been out driving, and looked so bright and handsome, that both parents involuntarily heaved a sigh of disappointment at the thought of her strange perversity re matters matrimonial.She at once noticed the expressive glances they exchanged, as well as their gloomy bearing, and inquired what was ailing them, or if anything was the matter."Nothing of consequence," rejoined her father, airily, but without being able to disguise the fact that it cost him somewhat of an effort to curb his naturally testy disposition. "Your mother and I were just feeling slightly annoyed to think that anyone should presume to insult you, that is all. Would you believe it, that impudent Ralston, an ugly, penniless adventurer, has actually been here to propose for your hand? It is too monstrous to think of.""Indeed, it is," murmured Mrs. Leeson, parenthetically.Beatrice had been drawing her gloves off, preparatory to going upstairs. She resolved to remain in the room a few minutes longer. Always methodical, she lost none of her usual habits, even when her temper was roused. It was, therefore, quite natural to her to fold her gloves, put them deliberately into her pocket, step forward to the fire, and rest her daintily shod foot upon the fender, before deigning to comment upon her father's high-flown utterance.But her calm movements did not deceive her parents, who noted the rising colour, the determined set of the mouth, and the flashing eyes with some little consternation."Kindly tell me what answer you gave to Mr. Ralston," she said, as quietly as if she had been speaking of a subject which did not concern her, although a perfect volcano of passion burned within her."Well," replied her father, his mien becoming more natural and determined, now that he saw a mental tug of war to be inevitable, "I, of course, gave him a flat refusal, which he as flatly declined to take. He had the presumption to insist on coming back this evening for 'a better-considered reply.' But all the considera-tion in the world would not induce me to reverse my verdict, and so I shall tell him when he comes.""You will not.""Eh? What? Am I to be defied in my own house? I tell you that nothing shall induce me to accept him for a son-in-law! So now you know my mind on the subject, miss, and can digest it at your leisure.""I am quite able to deal with it at present. Does it not strike you that I am about old enough to regulate my affairs? And do you imagine that I will permit anyone to dispose of my future as if I had no right to a voice in the matter? I have always been sufficiently respectful and obedient, I think. But this is a matter which involves my life's happiness, and I tell you plainly that I will permit no one to choose or reject a husband for me. Mr. Ralston does not seem to meet with favour at your hands. That is a pity. But it will not alter my resolution, and I shall certainly marry him, with or without your consent, just as you please."As Beatrice Leeson said this, she walked out of the room as quietly as she had entered it, leaving her dumbfounded parents to compare notes and exchange opinions as to the chances of emerging from the fray with any approach to dignity. Mrs. Leeson promptly lapsed into tears, and murmured something about a "serpent's tooth."Mr. Leeson paced the room in a fit of momentarily augmenting anger, which at last found vent in a perfect explosion of words.If Beatrice could be determined, her father could be aggravating and obstinate. He had always been accus-tomed to find his children exceedingly docile, and his eldest daughter's plain speaking was a. shock to his pride.What! Should he submit to open defiance, and consent to receive a man into the bosom of his family who had hardly a cent to bless himself with, and who would, of course, be everlastingly making efforts to tap the parental purse! He thought not. In fact, he was sure not. He would see the man hanged first! And now he came to think of it, there was no need to bluster and excite himself after all, for the game would be his in the end, seeing that he held the trump card.Ralston was a speculator. This attempt to marry a rich man's daughter was but another of his speculations. It must be that rich man's object to render the speculation a failure. And this he thought was not a very difficult matter. Give him to understand that not a penny would Beatrice ever receive from her father if she married anyone to whom he objected, and it was hardly likely that this undesirable individual would trouble him again.Fired with this idea, he at once seated himself at a davenport, and wrote three notes, one to Beatrice, one to Mr. Ralston, and one to Willard Leeson.Beatrice's note was soon written, and ran thus:—"Miss Leeson has asserted her right to please herself in the choice of a husband. I quite agree with her. As there is one little point, however, which her keen observation may not have noted, I think it advisable to mention it herein. Miss Leeson has not one penny in her own right, nor has she any future claim upon the writer, being, as she herself asserts, old enough to look after her own affairs. She will be good enough to remember that if she marries Mr. Harold Ralston, she cuts off all connection with her parents, and forfeits all chance of ever receiving a penny from them."Having requested his wife to take this amiable missive to Beatrice, he penned the following to the lover of the latter:—"Mr. Ralston is hereby informed that he is not required to return to Pollard House for any further reply to the request he had the presumption to offer to-day. Mr. Ralston is probably aware that Miss Leeson can legally dispense with the consent of her parents to her marriage, but it may be news to him to learn that as Mr. Ralston's bride she would receive no dower; nor would she at any time be received into her father's house, or obtain one penny from him.""That will settle him," he chuckled. "Now for Willard. The worst of it is he is just a pig-headed idiot, and is hardly likely to side with me in this matter. Still, I may as well tell him also which way the wind blows."So he wrote to inform his brother of recent events, and to tell him that he expected him to respect his wishes, and not encourage Beatrice in her insane stubbornness. But Willard Leeson simply ignored the note altogether.Meanwhile Miss Leeson herself had written to her lover in a strain which was thoroughly characteristic of her honest, straightforward disposition."Dear Harold," she said, "I understand that you have asked my father's consent to our marriage, and that he has refused it. It was well to show him this respect. But his prejudice must not be allowed to govern a matter of such vital import to me as my marriage. It is possible that I may come to you penniless. But if you do not fear poverty, I certainly do not, and nothing but your own assurance that you no longer love me will induce me to give you up. I shall be at my Uncle Willard's to-morrow night. Can you meet me there?"Yours only,"BEATRICE."This note was despatched by the same post as Mr. Leeson's epistles, and Mr. Ralston read the father's letter with an angry flush and a curling lip. Then he opened Beatrice's, and an expression of proud delight replaced the contempt and vexation which Mr. Leeson's words had evoked. As soon as it was evening he went to Mr. Willard Leeson's residence, where he was at once pressed to engage in the mimic warfare of a game of chess."I think not," he said somewhat abruptly. "My thoughts are in too great a ferment to devote themselves to chess, fond as I am of a game now and then. I expect Miss Leeson will be here shortly. But before she comes, I want you to read these two letters.""Something up, eh? Nothing amiss, I hope. But we'll soon see," commented Willard, pushing some walnuts and a decanter towards his friend as he spoke."Why, what a cheek my staid brother has got!" he continued. "Does he imagine that money is all you are after, or that you do not see your way clear to keep a respectable establishment of your own? Ah! come, this is better. I always said that that girl was true grit, and this proves it. I suppose you are not wanting to back out yourself?""You know me too well to ask such a question in earnest," said Harold Ralston. "That letter, as you say, shows what sort of metal your niece is made of, and I am both proud and grateful to have won the love of so brave and true a woman. Please God, she shall never have cause to rue her choice. But, as you know, there are certain preliminaries to settle before I can set up an establishment. It will be six months before I get back from Ceylon, and it would not be fair to ask Beatrice to marry me before I go.""We will just explain the whole business to her, and let her decide for herself. She is shrewder and more sensible than either you or I in lots of things."So advised Willard Leeson, who a moment later hurriedly left the room, the frivolous excuse he made not being sufficient to hide the real good-natured reason of his exit from Mr. Ralston, who, like him, had heard the door-bell ring, and rightly concluded that Beatrice had just arrived.When, half-an-hour later, Mr. Leeson returned, he found the lovers conversing tranquilly and happily on their future prospects, which danced before them in very rose-hued colours. It seemed that a certain Ceylonese dealer in pearls had resolved to retire from business, provided he could find a purchaser for his valuable stock, which he was prepared to sell at an enormous sacrifice, rather than bother himself with trade any longer. He had amassed enough wealth to suit him, and was anxious to leave the island.The purchase of this stock of pearls and a few other kinds of stones had been suggested to Mr. Ralston more by way of a joke than anything else. But he had taken the matter up quite earnestly, feeling convinced that this was the veritable "knock" which would bring him fortune. He was not in sufficient funds to enable him to purchase outright on his own account, but he had induced Willard Leeson and two others to join him in the speculation.Willard knew that his brother did not like Harold Ralston, and that he detested all modes of speculating. So he held his own counsel about the Ceylonese pearl business, and began to retrench his expenditure considerably, in order to repay the large sum he had borrowed to enable him to join the scheme which promised to be so profitable.It had already been arranged that Mr. Ralston should go out to Ceylon without delay, to personally inspect the jewels, which were to be revalued by an expert, and sold at a discount of 30 per cent, from their net wholesale value. The money for payment he was to take with him, and it was supposed that about six months would elapse ere his return.Of course, a little consultation showed the impracticability of marrying before his departure. But it was resolved that the wedding should take place that day six months. A solemn compact was entered into between the lovers that, whatever befell, whether it proved to be failure or success, they would be true to each other, and Mr. Ralston vowed that nothing should prevent him from being in England again, ready to be married, within half-a-year from date.Mr. Leeson, on his side, promised to use his best endeavours to bring his brother round to a more sensible way of thinking, and also undertook to instal his niece in his own house until her intended husband's return, should things turn out unpleasant for her in her own home. There were to be no more meetings before the voyage, as it was desirable to catch the first eastward-bound steamer calling at Ceylon.The parting was naturally sad, but hopeful, and Harold's last words were "Remember that nothing can make me break my compact. So see that you are ready to receive me, my darling."Some nine months later this story was narrated to me, coupled with some very singular information. Several letters had been received from Mr. Ralston announcing his safe arrival in Ceylon; his difficulties with the pearl-dealer; his ultimate success in the business he had come out to do; his various expeditions in search of more bargains; his feeling of responsibility at being the bearer of so much wealth, and, finally, his intention of coming home by the next P. and O. boat.About fourteen days before he was expected home, Miss Leeson was one evening the centre of a happy group in her mother's drawing-room. Very grand preparations had been made for her forthcoming wedding, for her parents had withdrawn their opposition to it, when it appeared that Mr. Ralston had made a speculation that would leave him a wealthy man.Beatrice was a pleasing singer, as far as amateurs go, and was singing her favourite song, "True till Death," when suddenly her voice ceased; her hands dropped by her side; her eyes seemed starting out of their sockets with terror. Then she sprang to her feet, and, clasping her hands as if in agony, gazed into vacancy, as if life itself depended on what she saw. For a moment her companions looked upon her in spell-bound amazement. The next instant they were roused to the necessity for action, for Beatrice uttered a shriek which curdled the blood of all who heard it, and, exclaiming "My God! He is murdered!" fell lifeless to the floor.In a moment all was confusion. Restoratives were applied. Doctors were summoned. Distracted relatives flew hither and thither. But it was all to no purpose. Beatrice was dead.The most ominous opinions were now expressed concerning Mr. Ralston's return home, for many of the friends of his betrothed wife harboured the idea that what she had seen had been a vision of some tragic event then occurring. The papers were watched every day, and there was no little relief felt in many quarters when the steamer in which he had announced his intention of sailing arrived safely in London.Willard Leeson hurried on board to meet his friend as soon as possible, but was astounded to find that a passage in no such name had been booked."Still," he thought, "he may have been nervous about having such valuable property with him, and may have booked in some other name." So he once more addressed himself to the captain, who seemed disposed to afford him every information. But he could learn nothing satisfactory. No such person as he described had been on board, and certainly no one had been murdered on the voyage. The only fatality they had had was the falling overboard of an elderly sailor. The accident occurred just as the watch was about to be changed. A Malay sailor saw the man fall overboard, and immediately raised an alarm, but as it was both dark and stormy at the time, nothing could be done, and the poor fellow was lost."Your friend has probably made other arrangements at the last moment," said the captain courteously, "and you will, I hope, see him in another week safe and well."Willard Leeson hoped so, too, but neither that week nor the next did Harold Ralston come home, and at last Willard could endure the uncertainty no longer, but set off for Ceylon to ascertain the fate of his friend. His quest was fruitless, and he was compelled to return baffled. All he had been able to learn was that Mr. Ralston had left Ceylon on the date he had mentioned in his letter.It was shortly after this that our assistance was called in, and as soon as I had mastered all the details, I started for Ceylon myself. I had begun to think that I should also have to return unsuccessful, when I incidentally learned that the dealer who had disposed of his stock to Ralston was again in Ceylon.I at once sought an interview, and found our suspicions of foul play corroborated."Mr. Ralston," he informed me, "had become very nervous about the safety of the property in his possession, owing to the fact that a Malay persistently dogged his footsteps. He confided to the dealer his intention of disguising himself as a common sailor, thinking that if this Malay really harboured any sinister designs against him, he would look for him among the passengers, and, failing to find him there, would return to the shore. Without doubt, he has fallen a victim to this man's rascality after all.""But," I objected. "He could not fail to recognise the man himself, and would have at once taken the captain into his confidence. He was very foolish not to do so in any case.""Of course he would have recognised the fellow, if he had sailed with him," rejoined the merchant calmly. "But he did not do so.""Then how on earth could he murder him?""I did not say he did.""Well, I confess you are getting beyond me. Will you kindly explain your theory?""Willingly. My Malay means to rob Mr. Ralston. To do so it is necessary to murder him. It will not do for him to let the victim, who already suspects him, to see him on board the steamer; but my Malay has a brother, of like mind, but different features. This brother sails with the Englishman. See?"I did see, and took instant measures accordingly. Both brothers had become unaccountably wealthy in a short space of time, and both, feeling quite secure, were living on the island. In twenty-four hours I had them in safe custody, and in due course of time I had the satisfaction of knowing that they had paid the due penalty of their crime.The younger of the two, hoping, vainly, however, to escape by making a full confession, narrated every detail of the plot, and explained that his brother told him how he had found an opportunity to stab the English gentleman from behind. Then he robbed him of the thick, jewel-laden belt which he wore, and threw the body overboard. His next proceeding was to strap the belt under his own clothes, and raise the alarm of "Man overboard!" He had no hesitation in doing this, since he was sure the body would not be recovered.We have thus seen how it was that poor Mr. Ralston broke his compact. His reasons, it must be admitted, were all-sufficient.I have but to add that we succeeded in recovering nineteen thousand pounds worth of the stolen jewels, several hundreds of which fell to my share. If I could add that Mr. Ralston was murdered at the moment that Beatrice Leeson mentally witnessed the tragedy, I should present my readers with a neat little psychological problem. As a matter of fact, however, he predeceased her by three days.THE HEIR'S DOOMBRIARTON HALL rejoices in the prestige of being one of the most imposing ancestral homes in all Yorkshire, and as far as external appearance, beauty of surrounding, and magnitude of domain go, there is little left to be desired on the part of its owner. The Hall itself is built half-way up a wooded eminence, and at the time I first saw it, the abruptly-rising wall of trees behind formed a splendid foil for the rather severe and massive simplicity of the Elizabethan building, the more so as it was mid-autumn, and Nature had decked the trees in the gorgeous and varied array of colours in which she seeks to console them for their paucity of adornment during the winter months.There is a beautiful lawn in front of the Hall, and when standing on this lawn, a most charming panorama may be witnessed. To the right rises a succession of cliffs, broken into fantastic shapes, and diversified here and there by the mimic waterfalls which rush merrily to their outlets and plunge exultantly into the stream below. This stream, which winds round the base of the hill on which Briarton Hall is built, affords copious sources of enjoyment to those who are fortunate enough to reside near its vicinity. The quantity and quality of its fish is something wonderful, and anglers for a radius of miles round use a good deal of their available diplomacy in persuading the powers that be to let them try their skill in its limpid waters.But the little river has attractions for others besides anglers. In summer it is not too shallow to forbid the use of the three or four gaily painted boats which repose picturesquely on its banks when not in use. Nor is it so deep that it refuses to freeze over in winter, and afford glorious fun for skaters. In fact, it is an ideal river for everybody, for I caught sight of a brown-skinned little urchin who, ambitious to learn the art of swimming, was using his best endeavours to imitate the gyrations and pranks of some more experienced companions, while a handsome spaniel caused no little diversion by his persistent, but playful, attempts to seize the moving limbs of the swimmers.The view to the left was at a certain distance cut off by some pine-clad hills, and in front, from the other side of the river, which was crossed by a rustic bridge, rose a wide stretch of farm and moorland, its ascent being so gentle that a couple of miles at least were traversed ere the height of the Hall was exceeded, and the eye found a limit for its enchanted vision.A beautiful landscape truly, and the hand of the builder had placed Briarton Hall so cunningly that, in whatever direction its proprietor might gaze, he saw nothing but the evidences of his own prosperity, for the view embraced nothing that was not part of the Briarton estate."Surely the owner of these sylvan and prosperous beauties cannot fail to be numbered among the happy people of the earth," I thought, as I stood on the broad, velvety lawn, and surveyed as fair a scene as any to be witnessed in England. Human discord, misery, sin, and unhappiness seemed all out of place here, and even my own presence, accidental as it was, struck me as incongruous and out of place, for mine was a life which necessarily busied itself with the turmoils and discords of human existence, and Briarton looked too pure and peaceful for aught but undiluted blessings to hold sway here.I had, however, not come here upon business. Relaxation from the grinding routine of duty is as necessary to the inquiry agent as to anyone else, and I was here simply upon pleasure bent, and in response to the invitation of an old school friend, whom I had accidentally encountered in London a year or two before this.Nor was I alone, for my host, Sydney Curzon, steward to Sir Mortlake Briarton, was with me, and seemed quite delighted at the enthusiasm with which I, a parched-up Londoner, looked on all he had to show me."I know what you are thinking," he said, but with a much graver expression on his face than I deemed necessary for the occasion. "You are thinking that the owner of all that one can see from this lovely spot must be ranked amongst God's happiest creatures.""Something like that, I own. It is enough to provoke a hard-worked fellow like myself to be envious, and to make him think that things are very unequally apportioned here.""It is well for such as you and I that things are unequally apportioned. I would not exchange my comparatively humble vocation of steward for all of which Sir Mortlake Briarton is possessed, for a curse rests on it, for which not all the wealth of Golconda could offer compensation.""Indeed! Now you have excited my curiosity to its highest pitch, and I hope you are going to gratify it in full.""There is no reason why I should not. But I think there is every reason why we should turn in. This east wind is rather cutting, and I have premonitory symptoms of a visit from certain rheumatic pains which are fond of reminding me in a playful manner that I am not so young and vigorous as I used to be. We will go indoors, and can then talk at our leisure, and in comfort."As he said this, Mr. Curzon led the way to the rear of the main building, disclosing to view a substantial, two-storey brick house of modern erection, in which he dwelt with his wife and children, and which I was to make my home during my holidays. Although overshadowed in the rear by the cliffs, and on the two sides by the wooded hill and the Hall, Mr. Curzon's house was still beautifully situated, and commanded a fine view of the valley, with the rising hills beyond.We had come to the place in a trap from the station, only a mile away, by a good road that descended slightly as it followed the turn of the hill which overlooked the Hall, and which rendered it by no means so out-of-the-way and inaccessible as it seemed to be at first glance. Mrs. Curzon, an extremely lady-like woman of gentle manners, soon showed me that I was thoroughly welcome, and the fare which she caused to be set before us fully bore out the high reputation for housewifely virtues which I have heard attributed to Yorkshirewomen.The children, too, were very bright and pretty, and the eldest daughter was so youthful a facsimile of her mother that I needed only to look at her to know what sort of individual had charmed the father's fancy."Yes, exactly like her," said Mr. Curzon, as he saw my admiring glances travelling from mother to daughter. "As like as two peas, and not a pin to choose between them for goodness."Blanche, as he spoke, had left the room, without hearing the latter part of the sentence, and Mrs. Curzon cast a deprecating smile at her husband, which made me wonder more than ever how it was that I had remained a bachelor so long, and convinced me that in this case at least marriage had not been a failure."Have this bit of chicken, Bell, and see that you do justice to my wife's cooking, or she will be offended. Eh, Polly? She doesn't like visitors whom she cannot please, and I believe Blanche is just as bad as her mother."And in this way he rattled on until the meal was over, and the two of us were exchanging reminiscences over a steaming glass of whisky, and a fragrant pipe of bird's-eye.We had talked of all sorts of things, when I bethought me of his mysterious words earlier in the day, when he asserted that he would not, for any consideration, exchange lots with Sir Mortlake Briarton.There was a handsome oil-painting over the mantelpiece, which Curzon told me was a portrait of the presumable present owner of Briarton. A piece of fine painting, I voted, it and the artist had been favoured in having for his subject so noble looking a specimen of humanity as I here saw represented."I see the Briartons are beautiful as well as wealthy," I remarked, looking critically at the picture as I spoke. "Ah, there are more of them, I see. Is this the same gentleman, or is it another member of the same family? His brother, I should fancy.""Thereby hangs a tale," said Curzon. "A tale, too, that has puzzled me for twenty years and more.""Then pray let me have it at once," I demanded, eagerly. "I would go miles out of my way any day to hear a good story, and I think I already hold your promise to enlighten me a little respecting the Briarton family history.""Well, I do not exactly know what you may look upon as a good story," was the reply I got. "If you are expecting a good laugh you will be disappointed, for the tale I have to tell you is by no means mirth provoking. Such as it is, however, you shall have it."I believe that the Briarton family is as old as any in Yorkshire, and it is connected by marriage with a great many English noble families. It is, however, not very numerous, and the direct line has failed several times, so that a younger branch of the family has more than once found itself unexpectedly endowed with wealth and title. It is said that if the present baronet dies without offspring, it will be difficult to find another lineally-descended Briarton, and if this is so it will be a good job too, for a curse, black and terrible, rests on the whole family."For over 200 years not a Briarton has reigned here without at some period of his life showing that in him the family doom was still in existence, for every chief of the house of Briarton during all that time has gone mad sooner or later. This accounts for the fact that the family is dying out."Among those who know of this terrible curse there is a natural dislike to allying themselves to so tainted a race, and many of the Briartons have voluntarily led a life of celibacy rather than perpetuate such misery as they have themselves endured. Still there have been many who could not bring themselves to lead a lonely and blighted existence, and who always cherished the hope that they might have inherited the family characteristics of their mother's race, and thus escaped the curse of Briarton. There have also always been, and always will be, I suppose, as long as the race lives on, women to be come across who have found something about the Briartons to be so irresistible as to induce them to be willing to run the risk of marrying them, even when forewarned by zealous friends. Sometimes, no doubt, it has been the handsome exterior of the Briartons which has overcome womanly prudence. Sometimes their amiable nature and charming manners. Still oftener, I am afraid, the title and broad acres have played an important part in winning brides for the house of Briarton."It was before my time here that Sir William Briarton, the late baronet, wedded Millie, second daughter of Mr. Stacy, the tenant of the largest farm on the Briarton estate. It seemed a poor match for a baronet to make; but there are still many who say that Sir William had been refused by two ladies of good family, and that he had vowed never again to run the risk of such a humiliation."In some respects, however, Millie Stacy was quite worthy to be the bride of a man of high degree. She was so beautiful that her compeers raved about her, and many were the excuses made by people of quality to drop in at Moor Edge Farm, in the hope of catching a glimpse of Mr. Stacy's two beautiful daughters. Annie bore so strong a resemblance to her sister that it was difficult to decide which most deserved the palm for attractiveness."They were also both well-educated, and boasted of many accomplishments which were not common among farmers' daughters, no matter how much above the average they might be. But here the great resemblance between these rustic beauties ceased. Millie was of a sweet, gentle nature, which loved nothing so much as to see all around her happy. Annie, on the contrary, was vain, passionate, jealous, and exacting, and gave her parents not a little trouble by her wild, arbitrary ways."' As sure as fate, she will come to grief,' said many a village dame to her crony. But nobody ever predicted aught but good of gentle, modest Millie, who cared not a fig for the gay lads of the neighbourhood, who would fain have won her ere she had fully blossomed into womanhood."Even when Sir William Briarton and his friend, Digby Clayton, came on the scene, no one dreamt that evil to Millie could come of it, for it was hardly likely that Sir William would propose marriage to the daughter of one of his tenants, and though the Briartons might be mad, they had never been addicted to playing fast and loose with a woman's affections."By-and-bye, however, it was noticed that he seemed devoted to Millie, and cared very little for the sprightly Annie, who used all her artillery of attractions in a vain endeavour to subjugate his affections. It was not long before she saw that her sister was proving a much greater attraction to Sir William than she was herself; but, not to be behindhand, she accepted the attentions of Mr. Digby Clayton, attentions which were bestowed so judiciously, that the poor deluded parents had no idea of the mischief that was going on under their very noses."Other people, however, were not so dense, and, if Farmer Stacy had been a willing listener to gossip, there were many who could have informed him of sundry moonlight rambles in which his daughter Annie indulged, accompanied by good-looking Mr. Digby Clayton. But nobody gave him any information on the subject, and as Mr. Clayton had quarrelled with his erstwhile friend and companion, Sir William, and was supposed to have left Yorkshire altogether, there was no room for suspicion on the part of Mr. and Mrs. Stacy that all was not as it should be with Annie. She was somewhat more capricious than usual, it is true, but this was attributed to chagrin on her part because the baronet showed more pleasure in her sister's society than in her own."Even yet, however, it was not supposed that anything more serious than a desire to while away the time dictated Sir William's visits, and had the least suspicion of any lover-like or matrimonial intentions on his part crossed the minds of the worthy farmer and his wife, they would have at once requested him to refrain from visiting their house in future."They, however, simply looked upon his visits as great marks of condescension. But when it transpired that Millie and the baronet were in love with each other, Mr. Stacy was exceedingly angry, and would fain have undone the mischief which had been allowed to proceed unchecked so far, owing to his own unsuspicious nature."But it was now too late for this, and Millie suddenly developed a hitherto unexpected strength of character. She vowed that nothing should make her give up Sir William, and that she would fulfil her promise to marry him, no matter what Fate might have in store for them hereafter. As she was now of age, her parents could not legally prevent her marriage, although they regarded it with horror; and, seeing how powerless they were to alter matters, they determined to make the best of the situation, and trust to Providence to avert the future evils they dreaded."So Sir William found no barrier interposed between him and happiness, and not a day passed on which he did not shower some fresh proof of his devotion upon his affianced bride. Outwardly, therefore, all was peace and harmony at Moor Edge Farm."In reality, the discordant elements were many and powerful. Annie was a year older than Millie, and had always vowed Millie should never be wedded first. It was gall and wormwood to her to think that she had been passed over, and that her younger sister was to be the grandest lady in the neighbourhood."Sarah Cousins, the old nurse who had tended them both as babies, also felt embittered at the slights she imagined to have been bestowed upon her favourite, and encouraged the latter to the utmost in her schemes of reprisal. There was also a third person in this unfortunate conspiracy. This was Mr. Digby Clayton, a man of great wealth and of good family. Sir William, although he admitted having quarrelled with the man he had carelessly introduced to the Stacys, did not tell them that it was because he had discovered his friend to be a scoundrel, who had induced a poor girl to marry him; and who, having forsaken his dupe, together with her child, still wished to pose as a bachelor."Sir William had demanded that he should own himself to be a married man, or leave the neighbourhood of Briarton. He did not choose to do the former, and only pretended to do the latter, contriving to see Annie frequently, and to induce her to take stolen walks with him. All unconscious of the fact that the man was a scoundrel, already wedded, Annie, though she did not really love him, promised to marry him secretly, and on the evening of the very day on which Millie became Lady Briarton, Annie eloped with her disreputable lover."A letter she left behind her told her parents this much. But it was not until the return of the Briartons that Mr. and Mrs. Stacy became aware that positive disgrace had touched their family. They used every effort to find the deluded girl and her betrayer, but many months passed ere they heard any tidings of them."When Sir William and Lady Briarton had been married six months, Sarah Cousins suddenly disappeared, but returned again a few weeks later, saying that she had had a letter to say that her mother was dying, and had gone straight away, without stopping to tell anybody, as she had only had bare time to catch the train she desired to travel by."The fact that she had failed to send an explanation of her disappearance to her master and mistress, who had suffered considerable anxiety on her account, was overlooked, and she was permitted to resume her former duties. But she was very erratic, and very inconsiderate about taking French leave for hours at a stretch, so that she tried the patience of her employers not a little."When Lady Briarton's little son was born, Sarah was promoted to be head nurse, so when milady suddenly became very ill, and almost defied the skill of several physicians to cure her, the little heir was left for awhile entirely under her management."Three years later Sarah died, and, dying, told a strange story. She said that she knew all the time where Annie Stacy was, as she was in her confidence. When she herself disappeared from Briarton, it was in response to a sudden summons from Annie, who found herself, as she might have expected from a man who wooed her clandestinely, deserted and disgraced. She was likely to become a mother, and had made the terrible discovery that the man she deemed her husband was already married."With Sarah's help she took a cottage in a little. frequented part of the district, and here she remained until, a week after the birth of Lady Briarton's child, her own boy was born. On her recovery, she left her child in the care of a woman whom Sarah engaged for her, and it was to the cottage in which this woman resided with the baby that Sarah brought the little heir of Briarton to be out of the way during his mother's dangerous illness."She asserted now that she changed the babies, and that the boy known as Mortlake Briarton was in reality Annie's illegitimate offspring."When challenged to prove her statement by producing the real heir, she gave the address of the woman with whom she had placed him, and when the two children were brought together, they were so marvellously alike that they could scarcely be recognised apart."Sarah swore solemnly to the truth of her statements, saying that she changed the children because she considered it time for Annie to be victor in something. She had been, in fact, carried away by the spite and jealousy which always dominated her in the interests of her favourite. She had thought that Annie's child should in course of time repay his mother for all she had endured, never dreaming that both Annie and the child might prefer to disclose the true state of matters should they learn the truth."As for Annie, poor creature, her career was already run, and she had ended her miserable life as a suicide, but not before she had accomplished her revenge by exposing her betrayer, and by frustrating his marriage with a lady of noble family, his first wife being now dead. His betrothed declined to see him again, and he was looked upon so coldly in fashionable circles, that he betook himself to the Continent, and speedily undermined his constitution by various excesses."The child of his wronged wife now makes a much better use of his life than his dissolute father did."As for the Briartons, Sarah's confession had plunged them in dreadful misery. If Mortlake were not the heir, then he must give place to Sir William's own child. But he had wound himself round the baronet's heartstrings, and the excitement produced by the thought that he had perhaps been cherishing the offspring of treachery and disgrace, while his own child led an obscure and neglected life, speedily brought on the madness which his hitherto quiet and uneventful life had led him to hope that he would escape."Like a thunderbolt his doom fell upon him, and in one day poor Lady Briarton saw her life's partner changed from a loving, attentive husband to a raging, homicidal maniac, whom it was no longer safe to leave at large one moment. It was a dreadful time, which I shall never forget. I had been here only a few months, but I was already much attached to my employers, and the tragic day on which we removed Sir William to safer keeping haunts me some-times like a nightmare yet."Among his papers was found a document which he had evidently penned with some care. He confessed his inability to discard all belief in Sarah's story, seeing that she swore to it so solemnly on her death-bed. But neither could he bring himself to believe that the little one he had so idolised was not of his own flesh and blood. The extraordinary resemblance which the two sisters' children bore to each other baffled all attempts to solve the question at issue by falling back upon family likenesses, since neither child resembled his paternal parent in the least."'But there is one thing which will, in time, show who is the true heir,' wrote the unhappy baronet. ' I cannot hope that he will escape the family curse. I must have been already in the grip of madness myself when I permitted myself to marry and perpetuate so cursed a race, and, sooner or later, his doom will show itself in my child. He cannot escape it, and before the world will be able to feel quite sure whether that vile woman's story is true or not, my boy will be a raving madman, incapable of enjoying the wealth which is the only compensation I can leave him for his terrible constitutional inheritance."'Until this time comes, I desire that the two boys shall be treated equally, but that the child I have hitherto regarded as my own shall retain the name given him at baptism, and be known as Mortlake Briarton, whatever may befall. Should Edgar, now known as Stacy, prove to be the true Briarton, he is simply to add that name to the one he is christened by, and will then be Sir Edgar Briarton."'Until the doom which will surely fall upon my boy, overtakes him, the revenues of Briarton must be shared equally between the cousins. I have written this because I have a premonition which I would fain banish, that my own doom is not far off. God comfort my poor wife, and grant that when reason does leave me I may do no one a mischief.'"Poor Sir William's presentiment was soon fulfilled, and he passed the remainder of his existence under restraint. Lady Briarton did not long survive her troubles, and, like her husband, she could never decide whether to believe Sarah's story or not. The two boys were left under the guardianship of their grandparents, and I have been steward of the estate all these years. In two months they will be of age, and we are to have no end of rejoicings."Fortunately they are much attached to each other, and, as both are rather afraid of having inherited the family curse of the Briartons, they neither of them covet the opportunity of proving which is the real baronet, though the people on the estate have never lost the habit of designating Mortlake as the real heir and calling him Sir Mortlake, while they speak of his cousin as Mr. Edgar."All is peaceful enough just now. They are fine, hand-some fellows, as you may see by their portraits. But there is sure to be a tragedy ere long, and I only hope it may not be in my time."My friend here ended his story, to which I had listened with considerable interest, not unmixed with the belief that I myself, if in the position of these young fellows, would rather find myself to be the child of the betrayed Annie, than the rightful inheritor of all the wealth surrounding me.The remainder of my visit was very uneventful, but pleasant and invigorating, and I was considerably benefited by my temporary sojourn among the Yorkshire hills.After my return to London, I often wondered which would prove the heir of Briarton, and whether the mystery would be solved in the way predicted by the late Sir William. The dénouement came more quickly than I had dreamed of. It was but four months from the time of my visit, when Curzon wrote and explained recent events to me. I had seen accounts of a tragedy at Briarton, but Curzon's letter explained everything I had failed to understand."Sir William's prediction has been fulfilled," he wrote, "and to my grief I own that I am indirectly the cause of it. After the rejoicings attending the majority of the cousins, they visited me a good deal. I was mad and blind not to notice that they were both infatuated with Blanche. She, dear innocent girl, never dreamed of anyone falling in love with her yet, and was nothing more than a frightened child when Mortlake Briarton asked her to marry him. She told him that she did not wish to marry yet, and that she did not love him. Two hours later Edgar Stacy came to our house, and also asked Blanche to marry him. She told him that she did not want to marry, and that she had already told his cousin as much. She would not have betrayed the latter fact had she been less bewildered and less childish. No sooner, however, did Edgar learn that his cousin had attempted to forestall him, than he flew into a most ungovernable rage, and rushed out of the house, vowing vengeance upon him, and blindly attributing his own rejection to his cousin's machinations."I was filled with dread for the result when I heard this, and hurried out, in the hope of preventing an interview while Edgar was in so heated a state of mind. It was a vain hope, for I was hardly out of the house before I heard fierce voices ahead. I followed in the direction of the sound, and soon saw the cousins striding excitedly side by side along the top of the cliff, Edgar the while gesticulating in very violent fashion."There was no doubt left in my mind now as to which was the true and which was the spurious Briarton. Edgar bore every appearance of suddenly awakened madness, and I sprang forward, desperately hoping to avert the catastrophe which I saw to be otherwise inevitable."Too late! There was a cry of rage from Edgar, followed by one of terror from Mortlake, as he found himself being pushed with demoniac strength towards the edge of the cliff. Another instant, and he was precipitated from the summit. Yet another moment, and Edgar, uttering a wild yell of maniacal exultation, sprang into space after his mur-dered cousin, leaving me a paralysed and horrified spectator of the ghastly scene."Sarah Cousins had been speaking the truth when she swore to having substituted her favourite's offspring for the real heir. The latter has fulfilled his destiny, and proved his legitimate descent. But he has at the same time put an end to a great curse, for the Briarton family is now extinct, and the Crown will be the richer by a fine estate, without inheriting the doom of its former heirs."THE SHATTERED MIRRORTHE century which is now rapidly drawing to a close is often spoken of as an enlightened one, and in many respects the appellative is not undeserved. But it ti far from being free from the darkening influences of superstition and ignorance, in spite of all the educational and other advantages which the present generation enjoys.Probably no one is ready to gainsay this argument with me. Yet another delusion here comes to the surface at once. When we admit that this age is still superstitious, we mentally look upon the secluded inhabitants of some outlying hamlet, or the ignorant, half-witted denizens of city back slums, never dreaming that superstition still sits enthroned in high places, and that her power for mischief is potent among the educated classes.A powerful instance of this was afforded me in the story of the sisters Lacy. They were of good family, and had their genealogy for ten generations back at their tongues ends. Rollicking, fox-hunting squires had their ancestor; always been. But the love of sport and hospitality which was inherent in the family was not permitted to overshadow the more prudent gifts for which the Lacys were famous.They were clever, capable managers of their own estates, and permitted no steward, either honest or otherwise, to absorb the profits which are the natural outcome of judicious and successful administration. Their farmer-tenants received every encouragement to promote their landlord's interests, and the demonstrations of hearty good-will which accompanied the annual harvest home festival astonished landlords who did not identify themselves so closely with their tenants.Nor was Squire Lacy the only popular member of the family, for, although with each generation the Lacys accumulated more wealth, none of them ever lost the hearty bonhomie which may maintain its power to captivate the admiration of people of inferior station, without necessarily degenerating into undue familiarity.This is, however, mostly related from hearsay, so far, for the only member of the Lacy family whom I have been privileged to know, even slightly, was Miss Kate, a pleasant-looking, antiquated relic of an all-but-past generation. A gentle, sweet creature she was, too, whom a cruel fate had treated barbarously, in that she had robbed both her and her sister Dora of their affianced husbands just at a time when their hopes of happiness seemed on the very verge of fruition.It was Miss Kate who told me the story, and I knew how much the tragedy had affected her life, as well as her sister's, when I saw the quivering lips and dewy eyes which emphasized the sad tale."It was in 1833," said Miss Kate, tremulously, "that my sister Dora and I were engaged to be married to Ralph and William Helmsley. They were brothers, who lived only a few miles from our place."The double wedding was to take place at Christmas, and wonderful preparations had been made for it. Ralph and William had been in London on business connected with the settlements, and it was only two days before Christmas that the awful accident happened which brought such swift death to them and such woe to us."It was said that the pointsman was dead tired, through being kept working too long at a stretch, and that his fatigue caused the disaster. Anyhow, he got the blame, and was indicted for manslaughter. The train was, by a dreadful fatality, allowed to get on to the wrong metals, and there was a frightful collision, which resulted in the death of twelve people."Our two dear ones were among the victims, and the only consolation we have ever had about them was that they had not suffered long, like some of the other poor mangled things. Neither Dora nor I have ever cared for society since, and we have lived very quietly on the ample incomes left us at our father's death."I cannot say that I have never known what it has been to be thoroughly happy since then, but Dora seems never to have her great loss out of her mind. Quite early on that fatal morning, she was dressing her hair by the light of a couple of wax candles, when somehow her dressing-gown sleeve caught fire, and in the fright this caused her, she upset the mirror and broke it into fragments. She was hardly injured herself, but was always superstitious about the breaking of mirrors, and sat all that day fully expecting the news of some ill-luck."An old nurse of ours was responsible for filling Dora's head with superstitious notions, and the effect of such pernicious teaching has been very serious upon all her after-life. I never believed any of old Peggy's silly tales, but I could not persuade Dora that they were silly, and when the dreadful news of our bereavement came that very night, it seemed as if the fates knew more about our affairs beforehand than I was willing to admit."However, my own grief was sufficiently absorbing for some time to make me forget Dora's superstitions, until reminded of them by the peculiar terror she always evinced at the near proximity of a mirror. We at last, in pity for the distress she could not restrain, removed some of the mirrors with which the house abounded, and the rest were so securely fastened in their places, that it was impossible to knock them over."And yet an accident did happen to one of them. At one of our harvest homes two tenants had got themselves into a great state of excitement over political matters. The squire tried to quieten them, but failed to do so, one of the disputants, a new tenant named Peters, being particularly hot-headed and unamenable to the dictates of reason. He had probably been slightly affected by the home-brewed he had been drinking, or he could surely not have so far forgotten his duty to his host and fellow-guests. But, however it was, he called Farmer Elliott a ' turncoat,' and the latter was so enraged that he snatched his polished pewter ale-mug from the table and flung it with all his might at Peters. It missed the latter, but flew past him, struck the large mantel-mirror, and shivered it to atoms."This sobered the whole party at once, especially when they saw the effect of the accident on my father. Dora had always been his favourite child, and he knew what an effect on her nerves the mere breaking of this looking-glass might have, even though not immediately followed up by disaster, and he was very angry at his hospitality being abused in this manner."I never knew exactly how it all happened, but it seems that he was passionately reproving the men who had spoiled the harmony of the evening, when he suddenly fell forward, and within ten minutes more we knew that we were fatherless, syncope being responsible for our sudden loss. I pass over the dreadful scene of confusion that ensued. I was nigh broken-hearted, but my condition was nothing compared to Dora's, whose superstitious nature firmly believed that excitement alone would not have killed the squire, had Elliott not shattered the mirror."My eldest brother now succeeded to the estate, and soon after this he brought his wife home. Dora and I were well portioned, and in any case we should have deemed it advisable to remove elsewhere, and leave Lacy Hall to the unrestricted occupation of the newly married couple. But it was soon found that absolute removal from the district in which we had been brought up was needed, for Dora became subject to violent outbreaks of temper, and much subsequent exhaustion, every time that she met a member of either the Elliott or Peters family, each and any of whom she did not hesitate to stigmatise as her father's murderer."So we removed to this place, and have lived upon the whole tranquilly and happily. Sometimes I have stayed a week or two at the Hall, but Dora could never be persuaded to go, for she maintains that tragedy would meet her at every turn, and that she could never endure the sight of the place again. She has not, however, lost sight of her relatives, for they all come to see us at times."There is only one of them whom I am never glad to see. This is Harper, my brother's second son. He is not a bit like a Lacy, but is the counterpart of his mother's brother, a man who has managed to forfeit the fair reputation he inherited from his father. Harper Twicken and Harper Lacy resemble each other in nature, as well as in looks, I am afraid, and although the latter is my own nephew, I always distrusted him."Dora and he have, however, generally got on very well, and he toadies her so fulsomely that I feel at times as if I should like to shake him. My brother does not seem to have administered the estate so well as my father did, or else he has spent more, for he has not managed to save fortunes for his younger children, and they consequently look forward to my own and my sister's death with the more anticipation."It is several years since, however, that I resolved to leave ail I had to the children of my younger brother Harry, who has not had much chance to provide for them himself. As a rule my determinations are hard to upset, and my brother Tom's family, knowing this, have of late ceased to court my favour."But they have by no means given up Dora, and I happen to know that Harper is actually counting upon handling his aunt's money within a month, and this is why I have sent for you."Harper has been visiting us for a week now. This morning, he bade Dora an affectionate good-bye, and coolly nodded to me, then left us again, professedly to go home. He has not gone home, though. Of that I am certain, and I will tell you my reasons for thinking so. Last night I retired to my room sooner than usual. But as the weather was exceedingly pleasant, I sat musing at my open window, enjoying the delicious night-scents of the flowers in the garden below."I had been sitting thus, perhaps, half-an-hour, when I heard a stealthy footfall in the garden, and immediately afterwards some low spoken words in a voice which I recognized as Harper's. I was some time in discovering who was his companion, but came to the conclusion at last that it was our housemaid. Not much of the conversation was intelligible to me, but this much I could make out—Harper has promised to marry the girl, if she will assist him in furthering some scheme whereby he hopes to come into speedy possession of my sister Dora's money."Before he can do this, Dora must be dead. He knows that she does not share my opinion of his character, and that she has made her will, in his favour. I gathered suffi-cient last night to know that he intends to hasten the end in some dastardly way, but I do not know what means he proposes to use to effect his purpose. His knowledge of her peculiar temperament leads me to suspect that he means to play upon her superstitious fears. His plan is, however, not quite ripened, for I heard him agree to meet the housemaid this evening again at half-past nine o'clock, in a copse about ten minutes' walk from here, where they would be secure from interruption, and would be able to ' settle matters.'"I passed a very anxious night, and finally resolved to seek outside assistance. My sister is so nervous and excitable, that if I were to confide in her, and expose her nephew's wickedness, the probabilities are that she would succumb to her agitation, and I should myself frustrate any effort on my part to baffle the ungrateful young scoundrel to whom she has always been so generous. We were warned long since to protect her from excitement of any sort."Now I cannot watch this conspiracy any further myself. But I must get to the bottom of the mischief, all the same, and I want you to station a man at the meeting-place in time to anticipate the arrival of either of the plotters. Such action as the circumstances of the case may call for, I rely upon you to follow up. Understand that 1 want full proof of my nephew's culpability. But public exposure must be avoided, for all our sakes."Miss Lacy had been very explicit with me, and as my call had been timed to take place during the afternoon's seclusion in her own room in which Miss Dora always indulged, we were able to make all necessary arrangements without fear of interruption. The place of meeting was carefully described, and I promised to have a man on the job at the proper time.We had about this time engaged a new assistant, who had proved himself to be very smart. His name was Jim Kersey, and he soon comprehended what was expected of him. The next morning he presented a report to the following effect:—"I had managed to hide myself in a snug, comfortable position enough before the arrival of the conspirators, one of whom at least was not of a naturally dangerous sort. The fellow was just fooling the girl to the top of his bent, by making her do what he wanted, in return for sundry caresses, and a promise of marriage which he never intends to keep, for he is nothing better than a thoroughpaced scoundrel every way. The girl, on her part, cared a good deal about the love-making, and precious little for his plans of self-advancement."He had to be mighty sharp at the finish, before he could get her to understand that he really attached a great deal of importance to what he wanted her to do for him, and, after all, it didn't seem much of a plot."' My aunt Dora,' he said, ' as you know, is somewhat whimsical, though I do not mean to insinuate that she is anything worse, for the amiable old simpleton has made a will in which she has left everything to me. You shall have grand things, Maria, as soon as I get hold of my inheritance. But my aunt Kate is a perfect old cat. She would ruin me to-morrow, if she could, and I mean to circumvent her. Aunt Dora must be persuaded to leave her. But as it would be showing my cards too plainly to act openly, I must have recourse to a little stratagem, whereby to frighten her away. She is to some extent the victim of superstition. She will not live in a house in which a looking-glass has been broken, for she thinks it unlucky. Now, all you have to do is to contrive to smash a mirror by hook or by crook, and I'll answer for it that my aunt Dora won't stay much longer in the house.'"This, sir, is the substance of what transpired at this interview, which did not strike me as such a very criminal one, after all."So thought Jim Kersey, but I had my reasons for attaching more importance to the mere breaking of a mirror than my subordinate was prepared to do, and I hurried off to see Miss Kate Lacy without a moment's delay.She was speedily in possession of such facts as I was able to acquaint her with, and at once knew the full danger of her sister's position. Fortunately, she was prompt and decisive, and promised to dismiss the delinquent servant within the next quarter of an hour. What is more, she resolved to watch her every minute that she remained in the establishment, and on no account to permit her to approach Miss Dora's presence.The latter concerned herself very little with household matters, and scarcely knew Maria, the housemaid. Nor would she be likely to ask any questions, even if she missed the girl at all, for she always preferred to take things smoothly, except when they happened to be connected with her superstitious ideas.She had got it into her head that if ever another mirror broke in her house or presence, it would presage her own demise. All her relatives knew of this dread of hers, hence Harper's idea of hastening her end and his prosperity by the very simple plan proposed.But, although the maid might be deprived of all power to harm the poor lady, by being sent away in ignorance of the reason for her sudden dismissal with a quarter's salary in advance, the chances were only too surely in favour of Harper finding some other means of effecting his purpose, and my opinion was that the only means of protecting Miss Dora, and securing her from all possible ill effects of any trick he might play upon her, would be to cure her of her foolish superstition."Yes," sighed Miss Kate; " but you hardly know how very obstinately my sister can nourish her fancies, or you would not dream of curing her.""And yet I think it may be done," I maintained, dogmatically. "Suppose we act upon the homoeopathic principle that similia similibus curantur, and administer a ' hair of the dog that bit her? ' If you will authorise me to do so, I will manage to get some popular monthly magazine, in which I will procure the insertion of a story somewhat to the following effect: ' A certain family shall be twice visited by an accident in the shape of broken mirrors, and is each time bowed to the earth by trouble. But although they know that a period of seven years' bad luck follows the breaking of the first glass, the second accident of the sort is only supposed to bring one misfortune in its train, and if a third mirror is broken under due conditions in the same household, then the spell is at an end, and the evil fates have no further power over the victims whom they have pursued so long. The only condition which will, however, admit of the successful recantation of the spell is that the mirror must on no account be broken wilfully, with this end in view.' The upshot of this is that our family eagerly looks forward for the natural breaking of their run of ill luck, and when the desirable event at last occurs, the whole lot of them live happily ever after.""A wonderful plan!" said Miss Kate, eagerly. "But we must make the experiment so carefully, that none but ourselves shall suspect the thing to be done purposely. My sister is so impressionable that I am sure this plan would cure her, and if Harper carries out his wicked schemes, he will be doing us the kindliest turn he has ever done.""Just so. Now what magazines does your sister read?""The ' Middle Monthly' and the ' Social Guest.'""Very well, then, I think I can manage the affair nicely. It will require a few pounds to pay an author for writing a story good enough to figure in one of these magazines, and it will require some little diplomacy to procure its insertion. After that, all will depend upon yourselves."Miss Kate was highly delighted with my plan, and gave me carte blanche for all necessary expenses connected with it. As soon as all our plans were definitely arranged, I took my leave of Miss Kate Lacy, and have never seen her since. But not long ago I received the following letter from her, showing that my plan had worked beautifully."DEAR MR. BELL,—You will, I am sure, be glad to hear of the successful development of our little plot. My sister was immensely impressed by the realistically written story which appeared in ' The Social Guest.' Her ideas underwent a strong revulsion, and she has looked eagerly forward to the very accident which she formerly dreaded so much. Yesterday an oval hanging mirror in our drawing-room suddenly slipped to the floor, and was shattered into fragments. My sister looks upon the accident as a special dispensation of Providence on her behalf. I have examined the cords by which it hung, and know quite well that they have been tampered with. I shall, of course, not take my sister into my confidence, but will help her to rejoice in her newly-found sense of freedom from impending doom. To you, however, I can never feel grateful enough for the suggestion which has transformed my sister from a miserable misanthrope into a cheerful woman of the world."BOB'S ADVENTURE WITH A THUGIN the month of May, 1882, a new client presented himself at our office. He was a tall, angular man, possessing many characteristics which proclaimed Scotland as his mother country, although he had lived in London nearly forty years.I believe that half-a-crown is usually the amount of capital owned to by the genus homo known as "self-made." Mr. Ibbetsen was more original than this popular unity of agreement would argue ordinary half-crownites, however successful, to be, for he owned to being the possessor of no less a sum than four shillings and tenpence halfpenny when he first came within range of the sound of Bow Bells."Three shillings, two sixpences, one four-penny, one three-penny bit, three pennies, and a bad ha'penny; that's the sum I started life in London with," he said to me, during the course of a long conversation I had with him."But if the halfpenny was a bad one, you had really only four-and-tenpence," I remarked, the "canny" nature of my new client being revealed to me by his prompt reply."Oh, no; I wasn't silly enough to throw a coin of anv sort away, if I saw a prospect of gaining anything by it. I just kept the bad bawbee until I had a good few more, and it easily passed in the crowd. I believe in going to kirk like a decent Christian, and in doing unto others as I would they would do unto me. My duty to myself demanded that I should pass that bawbee on, to repay myself for the good coin I ought to have got instead of it, and I was quite willing for anyone else to palm it on to me again, if they could."I did not argue the point with my gentleman, but passed on to the generalities of the business which had fetched him hither. When I gathered its full import, I confess to being considerably astonished. It seems that his business capacities had speedily projected Mr. Ibbetsen into the front row of capitalists, and he now possessed almost fabulous wealth, which he had hardly the capacity to spend.He was not at all gregariously inclined, and did not believe in scattering money right and left, in response to every circular or begging letter which was addressed to him. His wife was dead. He had no children, and did not live in the state which his enormous wealth would have permitted.The consequence was that he became richer day by day, and was very affectionately regarded by the numerous poor relations who from time to time found their way to London, in the hope of being permitted to share Archie's good fortune.With him, however, blood was not very much "thicker than water," and he became quite an adept in cold-shouldering those who had no other claims fit to urge upon him than the ties of consanguinity. He was, nevertheless, eventually moved to take two nephews under his special protection, with a promise to provide liberally for their future.This promise he loyally kept, only to be rewarded by base deceit and ingratitude. As to whether it was his namesake Archibald, or Archibald's cousin, Alexander, who was the real reprobate, he was at present very much in doubt, and it was with a view to getting these doubts solved, at any cost, that he called at our office.A large sum of money had been stolen from him, and it was to Archie's deprecatory hints that he owed his fancied discovery of Sandy's culpability. His rage overmastered his discretion, and he summarily sent Sandy about his business, without giving him much opportunity to clear himself from the opprobrium cast upon his name.After this fall from his former comparatively high estate, Sandy disappeared from his usual haunts, and was next heard of as an assistant to a country doctor. He had studied medicine, and had apparently managed to satisfy his new patron of his ability and integrity, though his uncle would have nothing to do with him.Shortly after this, Archie Ibbetsen sought, and obtained, permission from his uncle to make a prolonged foreign tour at the expense of the latter, who, now that he was disappointed in his erstwhile favourite nephew, seemed inclined to lavish all the resources of his wealth and affection upon the more fortunate Archie.And so passed three years. Archie drew more and more largely upon his uncle's purse, and wrote glowing descriptions of some of the places he visited. But he gave no hint of returning home, and his benefactor's heart became chilled with disappointment concerning him. That he possessed no love for anyone but himself was becoming self-evident, and it is easily conceivable that Mr. Ibbetsen writhed under the growing conviction that, after all these years of kindness, Archie cared not a fig for anything in connection with him but his money.Apart from this, some rather odd stories of wild doings on his part reached England from time to time. In Vienna he had treated a young English girl, the daughter of a resident, to whom he was engaged to be married, very, very scurvily, if report was to be credited with speaking the truth for once.In Paris he had figured as one of the principals in an exceedingly disreputable fracas connected with some betting transactions, and a good many things reached Mr. Ibbetsen's ears which made him resolve to set a watch upon the flighty young man, as he was beginning to doubt whether he had not been rather hasty in his judgment and treatment of Sandy, who, all this while, had never once asked for a reconciliation, but who was bravely and successfully fighting his own way onward.His present straightforward, honourable mode of life hardly agreed with the notion that he was a purloiner of other people's property, and more than one individual hinted to Mr. Ibbetsen that a mistake had been made somewhere.After once becoming convinced that a little more investigation was necessary, Mr. Ibbetsen soon matured his plans. A few hours before he consulted us, he had been visited by a man named Jarvis Jones, who had been em-ployed as valet by the luxurious Archie, and had returned to England in consequence of violent disagreements between master and man. The latter considered himself very badly treated, and avenged himself by calling on his late employer's uncle, and giving him a good many particulars which, if true, proved Archie to be an unmitigated rascal.He was, said Jones, after wandering about Europe all this time, bent upon seeing something of Oriental life, and intended to catch one of the Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company's boats at Ismailia at a certain date."Now," concluded Mr. Ibbetsen, after giving me all these particulars, "I want you to send someone out to India in time to catch the boat by which my precious nephew intends to journey. As many particulars as possible must be given me of his doings and character, for if I find him thoroughly unworthy, I will put a period to his laziness and extravagance. I also want a quiet, but thorough investigation made into all the circumstances which at the time seemed to prove my other nephew to be an ungrateful scoundrel. I shall only be too glad to find that I misjudged him, and will lose no time in reinstating him in his former position, if he is proved innocent. If only the young dog had condescended to be more explanatory, perhaps all might have been right between us long since."There was a good deal more conversation before Mr. Ibbetsen considered all arrangements and explanations made to his entire satisfaction, but at last we got rid of him, and then Bob, who was more willing than myself to undertake the journey to India, almost rushed the life out of us by the way in which he insisted upon all hands helping to prepare his Eastern-going outfit, and to pack his luggage for him, while he interviewed the ex-valet, and gained a few more particulars concerning the man he was sent to watch.The steamer by which he was to proceed to India would leave Southampton on the following night, and there was certainly no time to lose. But there was plenty of money forthcoming from Mr. Ibbetsen, and Bob started on his unexpected travels in excellent spirits, with a capital outfit, and a well-lined purse.What happened afterwards will be gathered from the following account, with which he favoured us some months later:—"We had first-rate weather on the passage out," he said, "and I enjoyed myself immensely. Thanks to old Ibbetsen's liberality, I had plenty of money wherewith to carry out my assumed rôole of a rich individual smitten with a mania for travelling and sightseeing. I made plenty of friends, and had nothing whatever to complain about, unless it was that my life was somewhat too lazy for my temperament. At Ismailia, our young man duly presented himself, and I must confess that at first I was inclined to put no faith in all the yarns I had heard about him. He seemed a fine, rollicking swell, who impressed us all in his favour."With the ladies he soon became a prime favourite, for he was handsome, agreeable, and attentive, and his flying visits to so many places of note, had given him such a fund of amusing things to talk about, that we all listened to his fluent, melodious utterances with considerable pleasure."As a matter of policy, I laid myself out to please him, but was hardly so successful as I could have wished. If I caught him whispering soft nothings to first one, and then another of the young ladies who were enamoured of his charms of purse and person, he would utter an angry exclamation of disgust, and take the first opportunity of removing himself from my too near proximity."If I overheard him laying a wager on this, that, or the other thing, or surprised him in the middle of a fierce battle at cards, in which the stakes were higher than was consistent with prudence, it was clear that he was angry at my presence. I really could not understand the reason of his antipathy to me, for, as you know, it is generally an easy matter for me to make friends enough to suit me, if I resolve to conduct myself with that end in view."Anyhow, I was not a little worried by the awkwardness in which Archie Ibbetsen's only too palpable dislike placed me. I didn't see how I was to foist myself on him as a bosom chum for a while, if he disliked me. And yet it was necessary that I should see more of him than I had done ere I could send a fair and honest report of his character to his uncle."Before reaching Bombay, however, his manners to me underwent a sudden change. He became apparently quite as anxious to conciliate me now, as he had formerly shown himself to be antipathetic to my advances, and even proposed that, as we were both simply bent upon pleasure, we should throw in our lot together, and travel in company."This was just exactly what I wanted, and I accepted his proposal with what I afterwards suspected to be too much alacrity. As you would gather from the letters I sent you, I had learnt nothing up to this time that justified me in sending any but negative reports of him home to his uncle, and, so far, I had seen him do nothing which could assist me in forming a definite judgment of him."I was destined soon to be enlightened. It was nearly a fortnight after we had left the steamer, and I had agreed to accompany him to Allahabad, though I meant to return soon after this, if I could arrive at a decision, either pro or con., of his character."Allahabad, or ' The City of God,' had scarcely figured in my programme when I started for India, and had Mr. Ibbetsen not made very liberal provision for me, I should have hesitated at so long and expensive a journey. But Mr. Archibald Ibbetsen had no scruples on the score of expense, and showed himself so careless and reckless in this respect, that I was considerably puzzled by his conduct."He professed to be extremely anxious to visit the sacred city, because he had heard glowing descriptions of the sights to be seen in it, from a friend of his who possessed a somewhat exploring turn of mind. For my part I saw no adequate reason for the journey, but acquiesced in the inevitable, and started with my erratic companion from Bombay, after a short stay there, by the Jubbulpore branch of the East Indian Railway."By the time our ride of 840 miles was ended, I was heartily sick of it, and so also was Archie Ibbetsen. But we kept up the farce of being great chums, and saw no end of queer sights together. The place was crowded with fakirs, and I never saw so many dirty, miserable-looking beings in my life. Their importunities were sometimes exceedingly pressing, and I might speedily have disbursed a fortune, had I been so inclined, or had the money in my possession been my own."A day or two after reaching Allahabad, we agreed to join a pleasure party of native merchants who were going to take a few hours' sail down the Ganges. I had not been feeling very brisk that morning, and had excused myself from turning out as soon as my companion. He came back looking unusually brisk and self-satisfied."He informed me that he had enjoyed himself immensely, and that he had promised an English-speaking Hindoo merchant to join his party in the evening. I saw no reason why I should not make one of the party, and we set off anticipating a very pleasant excursion."At first our anticipations were more than realised, and everybody paid us the attention which is often considered the just meed of distinguished strangers. I was just wishing that my duties to myself and my employer would permit me to dally in this luxurious idleness for an indefinite period, when I surprised a meaning glance between Archibald Ibbetsen and one of the Hindoos, which at once aroused my hitherto dormant suspicions of foul play."I was sure that there was some secret understanding between them, and anathematized my own folly in trusting myself in the power of a man whose character had already been represented to me in a very bad light. Of course, I was not sure that foul play was meditated, and there seemed no reasonable justification for supposing that special harm to myself was intended, unless my true mission to India had been discovered. Nevertheless, I resolved to be cautious, and maintained a very strict watch upon my companions."I would fain have started upon the return journey much sooner than we did; but no one else seemed to be inclined to do this, and, amid feasting and laughter, the hours dragged their course, merry to all but my anxious self."As the time progressed, I noticed that Ibbetsen's gaiety was of a very forced character, and that he seemed too fidgetty to remain in one part of the vessel more than a few minutes at a time. He and I scarcely exchanged a word together for the last few hours, but sat gazing into the water, mutually apprehensive, and mutually wishful to be in safe quarters again."Nearly everybody assumed a reclining position as night approached, but I was careful to refrain from closing my eyes, as the majority of my companions did. My mind was too full of gruesome thoughts for sleep to be possible to me, and I made a point of reclining in a place where it was difficult to approach me from behind."Somehow, I had hitherto hardly realised the possible form in which treachery might come to me, until I remembered reading an old treatise on Thuggism. The bare thought of such horrible people made my hair stand on end, and I spent the next half-hour in wondering which would be the best way to circumvent an attempt to strangle me."By-and-bye a happy thought came to me. I shivered audibly, and, pretending that I was seized with neuralgic pains, I covered my head and neck with a large pockethandkerchief I had with me. Then I put my hands up to my face and assumed all the grimacing attitudes of an individual suffering from a violent attack of toothache."But my attitude was hardly so innocent as it looked, for I had contrived to open my strong clasp-knife unobserved, and I held it, with the sharp edge outwards, in such a way that if either Thug or anyone else attempted to noose me, the string would be severed by the knife."For nearly another half-hour I leaned in this fashion, seeing not the slightest opportunity of enlisting the sympathy of anyone else on my behalf, as the river was all but deserted now. The pretence of uproarious jollity had been given up long since by all on board, and as I distrusted every one of my fellow-voyagers, Ibbetsen most of all, I was in no mood for talking. He, on his part, seemed conscious of my distrust, so that he was silent also."Suddenly I saw a couple of men actually approach Ibbetsen in such a quiet, snake-like manner that he never noticed any movement on their part. I knew that they meditated treachery, but I was too fascinated and horrified to speak. In another second I saw something thrown over his unsuspecting head, and, in a twinkling, the two men were each pulling one end of the fatal noose, while Ibbetsen's eyes and tongue seemed to start out of his head."I had not really realised what was being done so near to me, when I felt that the gruesome stranglers had also thrown a noose over my own head. My would-be murderers must have been considerably astonished, when I severed the cord, sprang into the water, and disappeared from their sight."I am a strong and rapid swimmer, but I had not reached safe quarters, when I heard a splash which proclaimed that my erstwhile companion was already dead and disposed of."The remainder of the night was full of horror and danger to me, but I got safely back to Allahabad at last. The examination which I considered myself justified in making of Ibbetsen's papers showed how he had duped me all through."It seems he kept a diary, written in shorthand. From this I learnt that he was the real culprit in the matter for which his cousin had suffered unmerited disgrace."Many of the things of which his valet had accused him were here boasted of as proofs of the writer's cuteness, and he was especially jubilant at having fooled me to go all the way to Allahabad with him. Jarvis Jones, piqued at not being rewarded as he thought he deserved to be by old Mr. Ibbetsen, had written forthwith to Archie of that ilk, telling him that his uncle was sending a spy out to watch him, and describing me too well for him to mistake my identity."He got the letter, which travelled in the same ship as myself, as soon as he stepped on board, and this explained his dislike to my society. Afterwards it occurred to him that I should be effectually prevented from ruining him with his uncle, if I could be permanently disposed of. For this purpose he went to Allahabad, and betrayed me into the hands of Thugs, little dreaming that they were as likely to murder him for his possessions as myself."After this I lost no time in coming back to Old England, and I am happy to say that Mr. Ibbetsen and his nephew Sandy are thoroughly reconciled."THE WITHERED HANDONE of the most curious mysteries which our firm ever helped to unravel was that which decided the rightful ownership of the title and estates of the baronetcy of Louthian. There had been certain family disputes and partings, which left considerable doubt upon many minds as to the identity of the true heir.The Louthian family was distinguished for several traits not usually cultivated in well-regulated families. They were overbearing, quarrelsome, selfish, and implacable in hatred. By way of offset to these aggressive qualities, they were lavishly hospitable; not averse to helping struggling worth as long as their own comfort was never encroached upon; truthful and honourable in all their business dealings; and bountifully endowed by nature with a fair share of beauty.There was, however, one hereditary blemish in all the Louthians of which they themselves were exceedingly proud, but of which no one else envied them. All existing family records proved that this peculiarity was no new development, and that "The Withered Hand " was the sure test of the identity of a Louthian, for not one of them had ever been born without it.The deformity, as it existed, was in reality not quite so repulsive as it sounded. There was some congenital defect in the palm of the left hand, which caused a certain amount of shrinkage. The hand itself was smaller than its dexter compeer, and the fingers seemed to be uncomfortable when not folded over the palm, thus heightening the effect produced by the shrunken, or, to use the popular phrase, the withered hand. Fortunately, the defect was only one of appearance, and did not interfere with the constant use of the hand.The particular connection which our firm had with the Louthian family arose in this way. The late Sir Wallace Louthian had three sons, who each and all inherited the family peculiarities. Wallace, the eldest, was, if possible, rather more overbearing than his brothers Bruce and Irvine, and an atmosphere of holy calm did not reign at Louthian Lodge, especially after the death of Lady Louthian, whose gentle temperament had to some extent kept them all in check.Knowing how amply her eldest son would be provided for, Lady Louthian had divided her own fortune between her two younger sons, and in the majority of cases this would have been considered a just and equitable arrangement. Wallace, however, chose to think that he had not been fairly dealt by, and much unpleasant bickering was the result, to the no small discomfort of the bereaved widower, who would fain have passed the rest of his existence in peace and quietness.At the age of twenty-four "Wallace married Alicia Morgan, the eldest daughter of a neighbouring county magnate, and brought her, in response to his father's earnestly-expressed wishes, to Louthian Lodge.The alterations and preparations which were made for the future Lady Louthian displeased Bruce and Irvine, who considered that their brother was assuming his mastership much too soon, and that it would have been soon enough for him to institute expensive alterations when none but himself would have to bear the expense of them.With people who are naturally rather quarrelsome, it is a matter of no great difficulty to be everlastingly finding something to disagree about, and the breach between the brothers Louthian grew wider and fiercer, until at last the baronet's patience gave way, and he set about promoting peaceable relations in his own violently domineering way, the result being that confusion was considerably worse confounded, and it seemed difficult to believe that these three rancorous-tempered men were all the sons of a gentle, meek-spirited mother.Mrs. Louthian had always been taught to regard the possibility of marrying the heir to a baronetcy and considerable wealth as the main object of her life. She did not need much drilling, for she was exceedingly ambitious, and although, if the brothers had stood upon an equal footing, she would have preferred Bruce, she had, at the time of her marriage, not the slightest intention of sacrificing future prospects to sentiment.Beautiful she was, and possessed of such charming manners as sufficiently accounted for the general admira-tion she excited. But the enshrined soul was not quite so lovely as its casket, as the young husband was not long in discovering. After the marriage-tie had been safely knotted, it transpired that the young couple's tastes were not nearly so similar as had been supposed.Alicia was a capital horsewoman, but her skill in this direction had only been cultivated because she knew how charming she looked on horseback, and that in no other way was she so likely to captivate the heir of Louthian. As soon as the need for diplomacy in this direction was over, she yielded to her naturally indolent temperament, and it was seldom that her husband could persuade her to join him in the long rides which afforded him so much enjoyment, and in which she had formerly pretended to take so much delight.Nor was this the only thing in which his wife disappointed Wallace Louthian. She had a cutting, sneering way of meeting his reproaches, which nearly drove him to frenzy, and would have provoked many a violent scene between them, had Alicia not invariably taken refuge in a sulky silence which prohibited vituperation, but did nothing to promote more kindly feelings.The prospect of the happiness to be enjoyed by the young couple was not such as to rouse the envy of their associates, but when the advent of a little one was expected, Wallace honestly exerted himself to promote his wife's happiness and comfort to the utmost. Alicia displayed, however, very little responsive feeling, and Wallace was soon tortured by jealousy, for even the servants began to notice that Mrs. Louthian seemed much happier in the society of Bruce than of her lawful husband.Had the line been drawn at this, matters might not have reached the climax they did. Unfortunately, Bruce was really enamoured of his brother's wife, and she was not scrupulous enough to refuse to enter into a guilty intrigue, in which her maid, a pretty Sussex girl, played no small part, for she, in her turn, was recklessly accepting the attentions and promises of Irvine, the youngest brother, although nothing but the most insane vanity could have made her believe that he really intended to ally himself for life with one of her inferior birth and breeding.By-and-bye, Sir Wallace, who had long been ailing, paid the debt of nature, and was buried with his ancestors. The new baronet vaguely hoped that his title and increased importance would turn his wife's heart to him. This, however, so carried away was she by her guilty love, made little impression in his favour upon her, and there came a day when Sir Wallace became fully aware of the treachery of which he was the victim.There was a terrible scene, and, all too late, Lady Alicia protested her intention of speaking no more to Bruce, and of endeavouring to promote her husband's comfort and happiness. He laughed sardonically at the sight of her false repentance, and left her, to wreak more summary vengeance upon his betrayer, and to take steps for preventing his precious brothers from ever darkening the Lodge again with their treacherous presence.The house was his now. He was sole master here, and meant, henceforth, to exert his authority in full. No doubt both Bruce and Irvine had a tolerable premonition of what they might expect in an interview with Sir Wallace, and it was not very surprising that they were by this time non est.That night Lady Alicia and her maid also disappeared, and Sir Wallace never saw them again. Nor did he attempt to trace his faithless wife's whereabouts, but tried to live his sorrow and disgrace down by avoiding all allusion to her, and by giving himself up unrestrainedly to the social pleasures which his craving for domestic comforts had hitherto held in check.He was still not quite six-and-twenty, and his sad story made him an object of interest to certain sentimental damsels. But he was so cold and undemonstrative that he was soon voted a bore, and he found no difficulty in pursuing the even tenour of his way without being bothered too much by officious and undesired sympathisers.Five years after his wife's elopement he received a letter from his brother Bruce, informing him that she was dead, and that she had left a son behind her, who was the lawful heir to the baronetcy. He received the news of the misguided woman's end with little emotion, and smiled cynically at the statement Bruce made with reference to the child. He chose to regard it as a foolish subterfuge intended to palliate Alicia's guilt, and foist the baseborn offspring of a guilty liaison upon himself as his own son.He wrote one letter in reply, emphatically repudiating his own paternity of the child, and declining to interest himself in any way whatever in its future. In another year tidings of Bruce's death came; and, still later, Irvine succumbed to a terrible accident. Sir Wallace's informant was a lawyer who lived in Quebec, whither some strange concatenation of circumstances had drawn his relatives.The lawyer also added the information that both brothers had run through the fortunes left them by their mother, and that Mr. Irvine Louthian had left a widow in somewhat straitened circumstances. Would Sir Wallace assist his sister-in-law?To this letter the baronet deigned no reply whatever, and for several years more he lived his country gentleman's life in tolerable peace, until he met with an accident in the hunting-field, which put a period to his life of activity, and apparently doomed him to spend the rest of his days in torturing confinement in the house.He found his lot very hard to bear, for although he had borne his wife's desertion with outward composure, his heart had all the while been torn by fierce emotions, and patient endurance was not one of his natural characteristics.Many of his old friends visited him in his affliction, but he had a great many dull, miserable hours, wherein to think of all that life might have brought to him. Naturally, his thoughts reverted to Alicia, and he often caught himself wondering whether he had been hasty in his judgment, and whether the child she had left might not possibly be his own, after all."In any case," he thought sorrowfully, "I can never marry now, and Alicia's child would still be more to my taste than one of the Yorkshire Louthians, whose relation-ship dates six generations back. I wonder whether Bruce spoke the truth, and whether, after all, there is no stain on the lad's birth beyond the fact that his mother transferred her affections from her husband to her brother-in-law. I will have another look at Bruce's letter, and see again what he says."This decision arrived at, Sir Wallace rang for his valet, and instructed him to hand him a certain desk. This desk he unlocked, and took therefrom, after a little searching, a letter which Bruce Louthian had written to him from Quebec. As he read it, the look of uncertainty faded from his face, to be replaced by one of regretful perplexity.The particular passage in this letter which produced this result, was the following:—"The child Alicia has left is yours, so help me God! and in you the little fellow ought to be able to find a conscientious protector. He is a bright, bonny lad, of whom any father might be proud, and he ought not to be punished for the errors of others. I have an idea that you may possibly be sceptical as to his true paternity. But I assure you upon oath that to you, and you only, he owes his origin. For myself, I confess that I have not cherished him as I, perhaps, ought to have done, seeing that but for me he would probably have been enjoying all the privileges which appertain to the heirship of Louthian. But I have some slight excuse for my comparative neglect of him, seeing that for long enough his mother has thought more of his little finger than of my whole body.""It must be so," thought the baronet. "Bruce, though he was always a fool, would hardly be jealous of his own child, and I never had any proof that Alicia had been unfaithful to me, except in thought, until I denounced her. I wonder what became of that maid of hers. I fancy she could afford me some information, if I knew where to find her. I have half a mind to go into the affair, and see what the lad is like."The result of the baronet's cogitations was that he sent down for one of us to investigate the matter for him, and the responsibility of bringing this affair to a satisfactory issue devolved upon your humble servant.I found the baronet chafing with impatience, for now that he had resolved to do his duty to his son he wanted no time wasted, and simply found it maddening to be able to take no active steps himself towards unravelling the family tangle.The next day, armed with all the necessary credentials, and a cheque for a liberal amount, I set off for Liverpool, which city I left that same evening on a Cunard liner. In due course I reached Quebec, found the lawyer who had written to Sir Wallace Louthian, and was by him directed to the abode of Mrs. Irvine Louthian.That she was a handsome woman, I am willing to admit. But I was not favourably impressed by her. Her behaviour, when in my presence, was curiously indicative of an uneasy mind. She was ill at ease, and seemed to me to permit some odd discrepancies to creep into her narrative. Altogether, she struck me as shifty and treacherous, and I had more than a suspicion that it would be advisable for me to season her account of the Louthian family history very liberally cum grano salis.This is the story she told me:—"When Sir Wallace Louthian grew so jealous of his wife and brother, things were not nearly so bad as he believed. But milady was determined that he should never insult her again as he had done, and when Bruce urged her to elope with him, she did so. Irvine also thought he would not care to encounter his enraged brother again. As he had money of his own, and could count upon my going with him, the four of us set out via Liverpool, and tried various parts of America, until we finally settled here."Irvine didn't treat me honourably, and it was not until shortly before our child was born that we were married. He was a few months younger than Lady Alicia's boy, and was just as handsome, although Bruce had a way of sneering at my birth, and Alicia had the impudence at times to turn her nose up at me, as if she actually still thought herself my superior. If she hadn't needed my services as maid, both on the voyage and after, she would have sent me about my business, if she could have done—after all I had done for her. Yes, she was as ungrateful as you please; but I have had my revenge, that's one comfort.""Indeed! In what way have you managed this?" I asked, with some interest.The reply I received struck me as curious, to say the least."Why, I—I have taken such great care of her son," said Mrs. Irvine Louthian, "that some people actually think he must be my own child.""Oh! Heaping coals of fire on her head, eh?""Yes, that's one way of putting it, I suppose. But it isn't difficult to like Wallace. He is as fine a lad as ever you saw.""And what of your own son?""He? Oh, I lost him years ago, poor darling, and Wallace is all I have to console me. If, as you say, Sir Wallace is at last going to do justice to his son, I hope I shall be permitted to live near him, for it would break my heart to stay behind while my child was thousands of miles away.""But I thought your son was dead," I remarked, having duly observed that the copious tears she was affecting to shed were not sufficiently material to moisten the cambric handkerchief she flourished so theatrically."So he is," was the rather pettish response, "I am speaking now of my adopted son, Wallace Louthian.""What was your own son's name?""Wallace also. You see it is a family name, which the Louthians all like to keep up.""Just so. Now, would you mind telling me how your own child happened to die, and where he is buried."I was sure that the woman had been lying to me, when I looked at her face after this last question. Try as she would, she could not preserve an unruffled composure, and stammered eventually that her husband had taken all the management of the funeral arrangements off her hands, as she was prostrated by grief. She had no knowledge, she answered, of her child's last resting-place, as, until her hus-band's death, she could never bear any allusion to her loss. Since then grief had so affected her sensibilities that she could not speak of anything painful without being overpowered by her emotions.On asking where the young heir was, I was not slow to note a gleam of triumph, which for a moment illumined her eyes, and then swiftly yielded to the sorrow she professed to feel at the possibility of being parted from her darling charge. She was not a bad actress, but I had had so many queer people to deal with of late years, that my suspicions were easily aroused, and I did not believe that the story I had heard was a straightforward one.Wallace was, she said, employed in an office, as he did not care to be a burden upon his aunt, and Bruce Louthian had left him quite unprovided for. "Very commendable," I thought, "and I should like to see this fine young fellow. But as he is not likely to be back here for two hours yet, I will have another interview with Mr. Lawyer, to see whether he knows nothing more than he has told me."Suiting the action to the thought, I bade Mrs. Louthian "good afternoon," for the present, and set off to the office I had visited earlier in the day. The lawyer, a Mr. Manton though not of a communicative nature, was interested when I explained my doubts, and opined that it was too odd for anything that a mother should not know where her only child was buried."Depend upon it, you are right. There is a screw loose somewhere," he continued. "I reckon she has got rid of the true heir somehow, and means to substitute her son in his place.""My own opinion exactly," I responded. "But how the mischief are we to get at the bottom of the mystery? It would be an easy matter for me to save myself any further trouble, and go back with a cock-and-a-bull story to the effect that I have come across the true heir. Mrs. Louthian tells me that he is very like his paternal family, and that he possesses the peculiarity known to the Louthians as ' The Withered Hand.' But, of course, if he is Irvine Louthian's son, these family traits would be accounted for that way, and as long as there is a doubt on the subject, I mean to follow it up.""Quite right, too," said Mr. Manton, "and I may possibly be able to help you there. I have a queer fellow whom we call ' the Ferret' in the office. He seems to know everybody's business when you come to make inquiries of him. But until he is asked to do so, not a word does he tell you about anybody. I shouldn't be a bit surprised if he solves the whole mystery for us."Of course I was more than willing that "the Ferret" should be summoned, and Mr. Manton's perspicacity was proved not to be at fault when we began to question him."Know anything about them there Louthians? I should think I dew. Why, it ain't more'n twelve years since I witnessed as comical a row as was ever the lot of these yer eyes ter light on. There was tew little chaps, no bigger'n a table, flghtin' fit ter scratch one another ter pieces, an' it seemed ter me as if they called 'em both by the same name. After a bit comes a woman, and she gives one of 'em a knock on the head which sends him reelin', and she takes the other in her arms and kisses him."'Never mind,' she says to the one that she was cuddling. ' Never mind, my pet. I'll pack that youngster off where nobody shall ever find him again, and some of these days I'll make a grand gentleman of you, just to spite the whole horrid lot of them.'"I was lying ' fast asleep' on the grass near where the little ones were playing, while all this was going on, and I makes up my mind ter watch where that youngster gets sent to. A fellow that I can lay my hands on took him away, and soon after that she gives out as her own son is dead—but she never knows where he's buried.""But what was her husband doing all this time?""Her husband? Why, he was so disgusted at himself for marrying her, that he went on the spree pretty nearly all his life after, and took precious little notice of either her or the child, beyond coming here now and again to arrange about some money for them.""Can you tell me where this man you speak of took Sir Wallace Louthian's child?" I asked."I can," was the complacent reply. "I pumped him pretty dry, I can tell yer, and I have kept an eye on the lad ever since, thinking something might come of it."To be brief, I did not trouble to go back to see Mrs. Irvine Louthian and her son, but obtained Mr. Manton's permission to take the Ferret with me to New York, whither the young heir had been taken.He was employed in a dry goods store, but was just in danger of dismissal, because some ladies had complained that they did not like being served by a youth whose left hand looked as if it was withered. He was, I should fancy, just like his father must have been as a boy.But though he vaguely recollected his mother and the man whom he had supposed to be his father, he had no idea that he was by birth an English aristocrat.I was soon able to trace his whole career to my entire satisfaction, and, having rewarded the Ferret, in what he considered a munificent manner, for his services, we set sail without delay for England.Sir Wallace Louthian is much better in health—so much so, that lie can take gentle outdoor exercise now. His son is a source of comfort and pride to him, and every three months I receive a letter containing a small enclosure, and expressing the writer's gratitude for the perspicacity which had prevented him from being imposed upon by an unscrupulous woman and a possibly unscrupulous impostor, even though the latter was a genuine descendant of the family of the Withered Hand. THE END. BRADBURY, AGNEW & CO. LIMD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.