A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
CHAPTER I.
HOW IT AXL BEGAN.

we have as much to do as we need. Flexmore had just then come into a fortune of £30,000, and he did not know what to do with it. I prevented him from losing it, as he certainly would have done without proper direction, for he was an easy-going man, of a credulous disposition, such as your needy adventurer and shifty speculator love to take in hand. For every man that has money there are ninety-nine who are anxious to spend it for him.
"If any one asks you for money, Flexmore,” said I, " don’t refuse him : send him to me.” And he did so, with this result—he never lost a penny by these good-natured friends.
He had a great respect for me—more than I deserved doubtless. He seemed to think that whatever I did must be right, and I believe it was the sheer force of example that kept him out of matrimony so long. Because I did not care to take a wife, he thought best to keep single. But the conditions were different. I am not an easy-going man, and marriage would have been purgatory for me or my wife, and the result must have been equally bad for both of us in either case. Besides, a lawyer has so much to occupy his thoughts in the interest of his

clients that he has not an hour in the day to devote to anything else. But Flexmore had nothing to do from morning to night that he might not very well set aside to attend to the wants of somebody else; and as to worries—he hadn’t enough to keep him from getting fat.
Now, a man ought to have solicitude for something beyond himself, if it’s only to give reasonable activity to his faculties; and Flexmore felt this also. He saw that he ought to have some other object in life than to eat and sleep and kill time—that his life was incomplete, in fact. But he still made pretence of being content with a bachelor’s existence.
One day I caught him singing his old song, When a mans single he lives at his ease, but in such a lugubrious strain that it would have made me laugh if it had not irritated me.
“ That’s humbug, Flexmore,” said I, “ and you know it.”
“ What,” said he, " does not a single man live at his ease?”
“Not when he has only himself to think of. A man’s happiness consists in making other people
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happy—unless he’s a lawyer. You’re not a lawyer, and you ought to be making some one else happy. You’d be more at your ease if you had some one else to think about, and somebody else to think about you”
"Do you mean that I ought to marry, Tony?” he asked, blushing like a girl.
“ That is exactly what I do mean, George.”
“ But I’m fifty. I’m too old to think about marriage now.”
“ A man’s too old to think about marriage when nobody will marry him, not before. There’s little Miss Vaughan, who has been waiting to be asked these three years; there are dozens of girls to be chosen from if-----”
"Do you think she would have me—that Miss Vaughan ? ” he interrupted eagerly.
t: Well, the best way of deciding that point is to go and ask her this afternoon,” said I.
The result of this advice was that Flex-more married Miss Vaughan just six weeks after.
She was much younger than he, as a wife should be. A happier couple I never saw. He lived to

please her, and she to please him—that was the chief object of their lives.
A year after their marriage they had a child, and
“ A. NICE FUSS THEY MADE ABOUT IT."
a nice fuss they made about it. I can't abide babies, though they never could believe this, and were continually plaguing me “ to kiss the little dear.” The

child did not seem to like it, and I know I hated it; but a lawyer, to please his clients, has to put up with a good many disagreeable duties. However, this mutual repugnance faded away, and we came to like each other in the course of time.
She grew up a pleasant little child, shy and timid, with a clinging affection for lovable persons and things. I never saw anything like the passionate attachment that existed between her and her sweet-tempered mother. It inspired me with a melancholy foreboding, for this strenuous love, I have noticed, too often springs from an inner consciousness (presentiment, if you will) of coming separation.
Poor Mrs. Flexmore had never been a robust person, and—well, to cut short a story that is too painful to dwell upon, she died when little Laure was eleven vears old.
V
Flexmore was then sixty-two, but he was not too old to suffer. The loss unmanned him completely. He took on like a woman and he would have been less a man if he had not, perhaps.
“ My poor old friend,” said I, “ it would have been better to let }'ou live on a bachelor.”

"No, no,” he replied. "After such happiness an eternity of suffering would find me still a gainer”
"You have your child—your little Laure,” said I, and then to turn his thoughts from the past, I talked about the future, and what he should do for the child’s welfare.
Indeed the child’s grief gave me almost as much concern as the father’s. It was not a passionate outburst, that spends itself like a summer shower and gives place to peace and smiles, but a continued, fruitless yearning for that laved one to come back who was gone for ever.	'
"You must have a woman here to comfort her,” I said to Flexmore. “ You’re no good.”
He agreed to this, and sent for his deceased brother’s widow, as being his nearest female relative, and she came readily enough, a woman of fifty, hard as nails, and stringy as an old crow.
Of course she never had "approved” (that was
her word) of her brother’s marriage, so she had little
sympathy with his loss and no patience with his grief.
She looked upon little Laure’s distress as unnatural
in a child (unusual it certainly was), and her morbid
condition as the result of defective education; and 2
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o

she set about correcting all this by forcing the little thing to read some instructive and moral books which no conceivable creature could find interest or pleasure in.
Laure had no appetite even when the kind old cook had a free hand and tempted her with pleasant dishes. When the cook’s hand was no longer free— about half-an-hour after Mrs. Yeames had taken her things off—the child ate nothing.
“ But you must eat; you cannot gain strength if you do not,” said Mrs*Yeames severely. “It’s very wrong for little girls to reject good food,” and when Laure turned away to cry she was told that she must not cry, that she couldn’t expect to be happy if she gave way like that, and that all good little girls did as they were bid, and didn’t cry when they were told to look pleasant and nice.
After she had been there three days Dr. Awdrey had to be sent for. Laure was feverish and couldn’t “hold herself up properly.” Dr. Awdrey ordered her to be put to bed at once, gave directions respecting treatment, and sent physic to be administered every two hours.
Mrs. Yeames had studied medicine from a shilling

handbook that she carried with her as if it were an amulet; she diluted the physic and administered doses when she thought fit.
Little Laure was very much worse when the doctor called the next day; and it was not long before he discovered the reason.
He came down into the library, where I was sitting with Flexmore.
“Your child is in a very dangerous condition,” he said firmly.
“Heaven have mercy upon me!” exclaimed my old friend, clasping his hands. “ What is to be done ? ”
“ She must have a proper nurse, to begin with,” said Dr. Awdrey.
“A proper nurse? there is my sister-in-law”
“ Dr. Awdrey said *a proper nurse/ ” said I, for I hated Mrs. Yeames already.
“ Do you know of one, doctor ? ” asked Flexmore.
“Yes; I can get you a professional nurse—one whom I can rely on implicitly, and who can do more than all my physic for the poor child. She is in the Hospital for Little Children at London, and I believe she would come at once if I asked her.”

“ Then, for mercy’s sake, telegraph to her at once."
When the doctor was gone, Flexmore, in some embarrassment, turned to me.
"It will not work, Tony,” said he despondently. " The nurse will never be able to put up with that old—old-----”
“Cat,” said I, supplying the word he had not the courage to articulate. “ Go on.”
" Every one of the servants has given notice already. They can’t stand her.”
" Can you stand her ? ” I asked.
He looked at me as if hesitating before the heresy of disbelieving in the virtues of a woman whose every action bespoke conscious rectitude, and then summoning up his fortitude he said—“ I am afraid I cannot long.”
“Of course you can’t," said I; “she’s turned the whole place topsy-turvy in putting things in order, and left not a bit of comfort anywhere.”
“Yes, yes; all the things that my darling loved she has packed away—the little trifles with which she made these rooms so bright and pleasant. I can’t bear to see the place altered ; and those trifles Tony, I miss them—I miss them."
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“We’ll have ’em all back again in twenty-four hours.”
“But how are we to get rid of her and all her boxes and her library and things ? I believe she * has ordered a lot of furniture to be sent on.”
“Yes; and I warrant she’s settled what she’ll wear when she leads you to the altar.”
“ Never, Tony—I’ll never marry again. What! do you think she meditates such a thing?”
“She isn’t a widow if she doesn’t.”
“ Good gracious, what have I done ? I asked her to come and live here How can I get rid of her ? ”
“Don’t bother yourself about that, George. You leave her to me. Give me full authority to act in your behalf and stick to my directions.”
He gave me his word most impressively that he would.
“ And will you have it out with her before long ? ” he asked anxiously.
“ Now, directly,” said I, rising. “ This is just the sort of job I like.”
And I went into the sitting-room and sent at once for Mrs. Yeames. Then we had it out. She was a

tough one to deal with, but not nearly so tough as I am. I tried to be polite, but I fear I insulted her. She certainly said I did, and went into the library * to know if her brother-in-law would tolerate such a want of respect on the part of a mere attorney; and the question being put directly to Flexmore, whether she or I were to leave that house at once and for ever, he replied that he felt convinced, taking all things into consideration, that he could better afford to lose her than me.
After that there was nothing for the indignant widow to do but to pack up and pack off—which she did, happily, before her fury gave place to more prudential considerations.


thought that it might please me and make our home sweeter.” "She” was the good little wife he had lost.
“ Yes; she had good taste and a good heart,” said I. "And the old woman—have you heard anything of her?”
"She wrote saying that, in the interest of her dear niece Laure, she would be happy to see me and, if possible, arrange some modus vivendi. I thought I would see you before replying.”
"Quite right. Give me her letter; I’ll answer it for you. I can say you have put the matter in my hands—see ? Til undertake to say she won’t come back.”
He thanked me with tearful gratitude, and asked me to stay to lunch.
There was such a savoury smell of cooking in the
house as I had not inhaled since the coming of
Mrs. Yeames, and I accepted without hesitation—the
more readily as I wished to see Nurse Gertrude,
who, Flexmore told me, had arrived that morning
♦
and would in all probability take lunch with us.
I expected to see a comely, motherly, middle-aged woman, and was taken altogether by surprise when

Nurse Gertrude presented herself in the person of a slight young woman of twenty-two or thereabouts.
Of course I am no judge of female beauty, but I don’t think Nurse Gertrude at that time could be considered handsome, or even very pretty. If I have any predilection, it is for large women with round, full figures; and I think I rather like a saucy eye and a nice little turned-up nose.
Now Nurse Gertrude, though by no means short, was, as I have said, slight and thin. She had a very delicate fair complexion and pretty dark hair, to be sure; but her nose was long and her eyes were by no means saucy, but calm and deep and thoughtful. Her expression was cheerful, and she had a pretty trick of blushing, but in repose her face was full of intelligence and solicitude. Her teeth were not regular, but there was the sweetest play in her lips, that harmonized with her voice and gentle laugh. One could not look at her without being impressed with the belief that she was essentially a pure and honest girl, with a very earnest purpose, an amiable disposition, and a clear-seeing, right-feeling mind. Her eyes—they were dark gray—were so true and frank and loyal that one was attracted towards her
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as to a friend whose fidelity and love could never be doubted.
Let me stop while I can, if I say more I shall finish by declaring that she was downright beautiful —an assertion which, though I would not contradict it now, I was far from venturing then.
One thing however did strike me : and this was that in some peculiarity—I know not what—she bore a resemblance to Mrs. Flexmore as I had known her in her younger days. And this seemed also to have struck Flexmore, for more than once I saw him, forgetful of the table, looking at her with the tenderest interest on his poor old woe-begone face.
“ Oh, I see how this will end,” said I to myself. “He’ll marry that girl if she’ll have him.”
And that was the opinion of a good many other people before long.
Mrs. Yeames, like an old buzzard that has missed its prey, hovered about the neighbourhood, watching the quarry with the jealous intention of preventing any other creature of her own species clawing up what she had failed to secure. She had heard that Flexmore was worth thirty thousand pounds! A nice picking for somebody, and poor old
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Flexmore was no longer a hale and hearty man.
She took a cottage at the other end of the town, and joined a clique of charitable ladies, who could make a shirt for the heathen or pick to pieces the reputation of a fellow-Christian with equal ability.
It is pretty certain they did not leave the character of Nurse Gertrude alone.
Meanwhile Nurse Gertrude fulfilled her duties with the calm self-possession of one conscientiously doing what she feels to be right; and I believe that, if the question ever entered her consideration, she did not care two straws what I or any one else thought about her. What she had come there to do, she did—and as if by magic. With Dr. Awdrey’s help she got the fever under in a week, and after that she brought a smile back to the poor child’s wasted face, which was of still greater importance; for when one can smile, one can eat and enjoy food. She gave little Laure something to love, and nourished her heart with kindness. That was what she needed: that was what she got. She had been craving for love since her mother was taken away
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and must have died without it, as surely as a plant must die without sunlight.
But how was she to be weaned of this love-food, in order that Nurse Gertrude might in time return to her hospital ? Every day her appetite grew by what it fed on. All the clinging affection she bad borne to her mother she now exhibited towards Nurse Gertrude. The child had recognized the likeness that had struck me: mother and nurse, unlike in some respects, were still of the same type of woman— and an excellent type too. After a time it became obvious that Laure was not to be weaned, and that to take away Nurse Gertrude would inflict the same terrible suffering the child had endured in losing her mother. Thereupon there were consultations between Flexmore, Dr. Awdrey, and me.
“It is obvious that Nurse Gertrude is very strongly attached to your child,” said Dr. Awdrey.
“ She is not unhappy here; she looks better than when she came,” said Flexmore.
“Oh, undoubtedly she is better,” Dr. Awdrey agreed; “the confinement of the hospital and the air of London were telling upon her—in fact, I must admit that in recommending her I was influenced

by the consideration that the change would be to her advantage as well as your daughter’s/*
“ If she would only consent to stay here as a companion to dear Laure—in any capacity,on any terms!99 said Flexmore. “ Do you think she would ?99
“ Go and ask her,” said I.
She was asked; but Dr. Awdrey was the negotiator, for Flexmore had not the courage of a mouse. And Nurse Gertrude acquiesced, setting aside all other considerations for the sake of the child whose love had won her heart. So Dr. Awdrey put it; for my own part, I could not see what sacrifice she had made in exchanging a close hospital ward for a pleasant and airy house, and an ill-paid slavery for a very remunerative position where she was free to do just as she liked. (Dr. Awdrey, in whose hands the whole affair was placed, had stuck Flexmore for a thumping big salary.) No; I looked upon it that this young lady, together with other very good qualities, had a very clear perception of her duty to herself, and that she foresaw as plainly as I did that sooner or later she would become Mrs. Flexmore.
However to stick to the facts of the case: that day Nurse Gertrude came down to dinner without
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the becoming little cap which had previously distinguished her as an official nurse; and if we had
come to think her pretty in her cap, we were bound to admit that she looked still nicer without it—her

pretty hair drawn neatly up and coiled plainly on her head.
Gracious powers! how the women folk in our little town cackled when the news spread that this person was henceforth to be a sort of housekeeper and companion in Mr. Flexmore's house, and that the servants were no longer to call her Nurse Gertrude, but Miss Dalrymple, if ycu please. Though why they should be astonished was a mystery, considering that according to their own statement they had foreseen this, and “said so all along” Who was this Miss Dalrymple? Nobody knew. Why had she gone into a hospital as nurse ? Ah! a good many young women go into hospitals as a sort of refuge, they generally have a history—something to conceal, and, too often, something to expiate by what they consider work of charity, though, as for that, they are paid quite as well as ordinary servants, so there's not much sacrifice on their part. It is well known that many go in with the hope of entrapping some young doctor or medical student, while others, like this Miss Dalrymple, contrive to work their way into well-to-do families and play on the sense of gratitude or fancy of some old inbecile, such as poor dear Mr
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Flexmore. These were the views of those miserable women who refer to the members of their little coterie as “very superiah ladies—very superiah!” They questioned Dr. Awdrey about Miss Dal-rymple—about her history, her antecedents, her family, &c.
“ All I know about Miss Dalrymple,” he said, in reply, “ is that she has the finest and sweetest character I have ever studied”
Poor Doctor Awdrey! we thought, she has thrown her spell over him at some time; he might have married her if he had only had the sense to let her stop in the hospital; but there was little chance for him now, with old Mr. Flexmore absolutely in her power. With a weak man of that kind, she could easily obtain an offer of marriage, and at any time she could reckon upon Laurel tears supporting her claim for a more definite and satisfactory position. She was incontrovertibly spoiling that child, Mrs. Yeames declared, quite spoiling her with indulgence; dressing her like a little popinjay, though she was still in mourning; whoever heard of a child of that age being allowed to run wild and do whatever she would, spoiling her things and behaving like a tomboy
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more than anything else. A nice self-willed, perverse, detestable girl she would grow up under such treatment; but there, of course Nurse Gertrude (they wouldn't call her Miss Dalrymple) had only one object, and that was to make herself indispensable, in the opinion of poor dear, dear George! Ah, dear George was much to be pitied.
The worst of it was that “ dear George ” bore his affliction very patiently, and seemed to like it.
Miss Dalrymple's position was not altogether an enviable one. She must have known of the ill-feeling against her, must have divined the cruel things that were said about her," though she showed no sign of being hurt under the snubs administered freely to her by visitors, who called ostensibly to see how dear little Laure was progressing. With her calm, deliberative disposition she may have foreseen all the consequences of taking the position in Flex-more's house which she now held. She did nothing to controvert the opinion people chose to entertain regarding her; nothing to make them know that she was better than they chose to think. It was only by accident that the truth came out.
We have a flower show in our town once a year.
3	*
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The first day is the best of course, and, the prices excluding the poorer kind of people, only the upper sort are there. There was a rumour that titled visitors were staying with the Caselys, and that probably they would visit the show in the afternoon; wherefore you may be sure that Mrs. Yeames and her “ superiah ” set were all there in full feather.
About three o’clock I saw Miss Dalrymple come in with Laure; she never missed any occasion of giving pleasure to the child, or of taking it herself, for that matter. She was plainly dressed ; but, to my mind, there was no more elegant young lady there. Mrs. Yeames with three of her finest friends stopped them, and with the most distant patronizing inclination of their heads to Miss Dalrymple bent down to kiss Laure and ask after her poor dear papa. Then Mrs. Yeames, taking the child’s hand, led her to a bank of cut flowers, asking her whether she could spell the labels attached, and whether she knew what was a papaver somniferum.
In the midst of this instructive display of her own acquirements, there was a flutter amongst the visitors, and word was whispered that Mrs. Casely had arrived and had brought Lord Dunover with her. And there,
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sure enough, was Mrs. Casely with a tall, whitehaired, aristocratic old gentleman, coming right down upon the little party. There was not time to get away from little Laure and that horrid Nurse Gertrude, when Mrs. Casely met them and introduced his lordship. Dunover bowed stiffly, but suddenly catching sight of Miss Dairympie his face became illumined with a smile of heartfelt pleasure, and exclaiming, “ What, Gertie, my dear, you here! ” he took her by both hands and kissed her pretty lips. Then turning to Mrs. Casely he said—
“ Mrs. Casely, let me introduce you to my niece— a little democrat who almost shakes my class prejudice, for she prefers independence as a hospital nurse to sharing the fallen fortunes of her family.”
Then it was known that Miss Dalrymple was actually the niece of an earl. And she and Laure spent a week at Casely Manor, where Mrs. Yeames and her “ superiah ” set had never been allowed to stay longer than half an hour.

FTER this I said to
MR. LYNN YEAMES MAKES HIS APPEARANCE.
FI ex more—
“ w by on earth don t
you marry Miss Dal
ryrnple ?
“ Do you think she
would have me ? he
asked, with a composure
that showed that the idea
was not unconsidered.
“ You can but ask her,
I replied. “ There s no-
thin" like asking when one is in doubt/
“I believe you think that any woman is to be had
Original from
 PUEL C L BRARY

for the asking. But if I were sure of being accepted, I would not make the offer.”
“ Why ? ”
“ Because she is worthy of a better man than I am for one thing.”
“ That she can best decide. What’s your next reason ?” “ That I have no wish to marry.”
“ That isn’t much of a reason. You have to think of what is best for your daughter and Miss Dairymple-Your little one ought to have a mother—some one from whom she will be inseparable when you are gone; and there’s not a soul in the world better fitted to take the place of a mother than that girl.” “ I know it—I know it,” said Flexmore; “ I have thought of that.”
“And then Miss Dalrymple ought to have the opportunity offered her of making her position here less anomalous than it is.”
“ I have a better plan for her welfare than that, Tony,” he said quietly.
“ Then let me know it, George; for we must do something to stop the mouths of these cackling scandal-mongers and tittle-tattling widows and spinsters,” said I.

“ She must marry Awdrey : that is the husband for that sweet girl,” said he.
“ Dr. Awdrey ! ” I exclaimed in astonishment, for I had never thought of him as a marrying man.
“Yes. He loves her—I know he does. Who could see her and know her, and not love her? And he is an excellent fellow. I wish he were a little lighter and better-looking; but I couldn’t wish him to have a better heart, or a more lovable disposition. Hes a fine man, Tony.”
“Yes, he is a fine man,” I assented readily, “ morally.”
“He’s not ill-looking; a little serious perhaps.”
“That’s not astonishing. No one has so much reason to be serious as a fool.”
“You do not mean to tell me that Dr. Awdrey is a fool,” said my old friend indignantly.
“ A fool in a worldly sense he is. In his profession, I grant, he may be as wise as you like. He can see into men’s stomachs, but he can’t see into their minds. If you can’t see through the mask with which most men conceal their true nature, you are bound to be duped. Awdrey is so honest that he cannot believe in knavery; and a man with his confiding disposition

is the born prey for tricksters. He was cheated into buying a practice that was worth nothing, and he goes a round of thirty miles a day to doctor patients who never pay their fees. Hang me, I'd physic 'em if they tried to serve me in that fashion. However a woman loves her husband none the less for his being serious; and as for looks, in my opinion there’s not a man in Coneyford to compare with him; he’s six foot in his stockings, and every inch of him a man. That’s good enough.”
“Then you agree with me that he would be a suitable husband for Miss Dalrymple ? ”
“Yes, but he won’t marry her, for all that. It’s as much as ever he can keep his head above water now, and fool as he is—in worldly matters—he wouldn’t tie a millstone round his neck.”
“ Miss Dalrymple is not a millstone,” said poor old Flexmore warmly.
“I know that. She’s a good woman, and would work herself ill to help her husband, or worry herself ill if she couldn’t. That is what Awdrey would not have his wife do, and the only way to prevent it is to keep single. And single he’ll keep.”
“ No, Keene, no; he must marry Gertrude. I have

thought it all out. My little Laure must have a father as well as a mother when I am gone—and I don’t think that is long hence, Tony. I shall not see sixty-four.”
I tried to combat this notion, though I myself was far from regarding it as improbable; and then to turn the conversation, I said—
“ Well, to go back to what you have been thinking out—what’s your idea ? ”
“I wish to put Awdrey in a position to marry Miss Dairymple. I know he is poor, but I am
“ You’ll never get Awdrey to take an independence from you.”
“Not while I live—but in time to come when I am gone ? This is my idea, Tony. I would leave him every penny I have on the condition that he adopts Laure as his daughter.”
“ I see your notion. There will then be a second inducement for him to make Miss Dalrymple his wife in the fact that the child is inseparable from
“That’s it. Tony. Now tell me. What is your opinion on the subject ? ”
rich.”
her.”

“ Well, I think the idea is a capital good one, so good that I wish I had thought of it myself. I might if there had not been a little too much romance in
“ Very well, then; draw up a will in accordance with it. Settle everything upon Awdrey, subject to deduction for a few smaller legacies that I will write in.”
“ HI sleep on it. We won’t hurry. You’re good for
t
some time to come.”
“ Let me have the draft of it in a week at the outside, Tony,” he said eagerly.
I promised to do this, and went home, turning the matter over in my mind. I considered from time to time during the week, and finding no material objection to the scheme I put Flexmore’s notion into legal form with certain modifications, and then took a rough draft for his inspection.
“ Is your master at home ? ” I asked the girl who opened the door.
“Yes, sir; he’s in the library with Mrs. Yeames and'Mr. Yeames.”
“Mr. Yeames? what Mr. Yeames?” I asked the little maid sharply.
it for my mind to take readily to. Still, it is a good
idea.”

“Mr. Lynn Yeames is his name, I think, sir; a young gentleman.”
“ Mrs. Yeames’s son. I know him,” said I; and then I stood, rubbing my feet on the mat and wondering what on earth he had come upon the scene for. No good, I felt sure.
Mr. Lynn Yeames was the son of Mrs. Yeames by her second marriage. That was not much in his favour, but the rest was still less to his advantage. I had been twice employed by Flexmore on his account : once, to settle some college debts which Mrs. Yeames declared she could not meet, though she could scrape enough together to send him to a university for the gratification of her wretched vanity, when he ought to have been earning his bread, like other lads of his condition; and a second time to stay an action for breach of promise, threatened by a townsman’s daughter with whom he had got entangled. Fellows brought up by foolish women on bad principles are always either getting out of scrapes or getting into them, and I asked myself which purpose had procured his uncle the doubtful pleasure of this visit.
I shook myself together, and went into the library with my wits on the alert.

Lynn Yeames at this time was about four-and-twenty, and his looks would have deceived any one but a lawyer. A sturdy young fellow of average height, but very thick-set, he was dressed in a gray Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, with a pair of legs that would have done credit to a drayman, and seemed to be the object of his mother’s constant admiration. His skin was very fair, his eyes very blue, his lips very red ; his hair was combed down on one side of his forehead, and he had a small carroty moustache. His manner was effusive, and he affected a rollicking dare-devil air, which went well enough with his full-blooded complexion, and other signs of animal strength, but were not altogether in keeping with a certain slyness in the turn of his eyes and the lowering of their lids. But then this slyness was in harmony with his profession of being up to all the ways of the world and knowing his way about. Most people, I believe, would have been favourably impressed with him, and have liked him the better for failings which might be attributed to youth and exuberant vigour; but I did not like him.
He had come down, it seemed, to spend a few days with the “mater” (I hate young people who can’t
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call their dearest friend by the sweetest word in the language, “ mother”), and he had only been here a day and was awfully bored already—not a decent billiard board in the place, hags at the bars, and not a light to be seen after ten-thirty. He wanted to know if there was any fishing or shooting, or any mortal thing a man might do to earn a night’s repose.
“ There’s the piano, Lynn, dear,” suggested Mrs. Yeames, anxious to show off her son’s accomplishments. “You know that you play very well.” She said this in French—and bad French too.
To this he replied in a mixture of the two toDgues, not loth to show off', that one did not come into the country to play Schubert, and that sort of thing.”
“For goodness’sake, sir, let us confine our talk to English or French,” said I. “Have you heard anything lately from Miss Kite ? ” This was the name of the injured young lady at Oxford.
“ If you please, do not mention the name of that horrid, designing, worthless person,” said Mrs Yeames.
“ She’s worth four hundred pounds more than she was, madam,” said I; “ for that’s what I had to pay to make her withdraw her action.”
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Mrs. Yeames flicked the dust off her silk gown and looked extremely uncomfortable.
“No new scrape, I hope, Mr. Lynn ? ” I continued.
“ Not exactly. What the deuce should make you suppose there was ? ” he asked sheepishly, for it takes very little to upset the equanimity of these boisterous young gentlemen.
“ What made me suppose it ? ” I echoed. “ Why, seeing you here ! ”
“I want to find some shooting. That’s all I came for.”
“ I can let you have it, if you are prepared to pay. I have a client who will let you the shooting over two thousand acres.”
“ That’s my sort. Of course I’ll pay. When can I begin to blaze away ? ”
“As soon as you have settled with me. Come to my office and we will arrange it at once.”
I wanted to get him away from £here, for already I scented the purpose with which he had been brought; and I was anxious to let him the shooting, which was twenty miles off.
“Oh! you cannot go yet, dear,” interposed Mrs. Yeames; “you have not seen Laure. How is that little darling, George, dear ? ”
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“ Very well, thank you. She has gone for a walk with Miss Dalrymple.”
“ Miss Dalrymple ? Who is she ? a governess ? ” asked Lynn.
“ Something more than that,” replied Mrs. Yeames, “ quite a friend of the family—a most estimable young lady. She was a professional nurse, but—what do you think?—it turns out she is the niece of the Earl of Dunover 1”
This change in Mrs. Yeames’s regard towards Gertrude was not surprising, considering what a sycophant the widow was; but nothing could make me believe that in the past twenty-four hours she had said not a word about her to Lynn.
“ Gad ! I should like to see the young lady—if she is young,” said Lynn. *
“ Oh, she is I assure you, and excessively charming and pretty,” said Mrs. Yeames; “ quite superiah ! You really must see her.”
While this chatter was going on, I drew the draft of Flexmore’s will from my pocket, and, as if endorsing it, I wrote in pencil— u They want you to invite them to lunch. Don’t.”
This I handed to Flexmore.

“ Here is a draft of the agreement you asked me for,” said I.
He looked at the words I had written, and thanked me. Then he said he hoped his nephew would call in and say good-bye before he left.
After that the visitors were bound to rise and say “Good-bye for the present”
“ We’ll go to the office and settle about that shooting,” said I, rising at the same time.
We left Mrs. Yeames at her cottage, and went on to my place of business. Nothing was said about my old friend Flex more until we had settled about the shooting, when Lynn said, as he took up his stick and deerstalker—
“Poor old nuncky looks precious shaky.”
“He’s much better than he was a month ago,” I replied.
“ Shouldn’t think he’d last long, though; should you ? He’s sixty-two, you know.”
“His life’s worth ten years’ purchase,” said I emphatically.
“ Is it, though ? ” Then, after a pause—“ I suppose he’s pretty warm?”

“I would give fifty thousand pounds for his estate at this moment/'
“Fifty thousand, eh?”
Another pause. Then in a careless tone—
“we LEFT MRS. TEAMES AT HER COTTAGE.
“Who’s this Miss Thingumbob the mater was talking about ? ”
“Miss Dalrymple. She is a particularly sensible young lady,” I replied.

"That means that she knows how to look after Number One, I suppose ? ”
" If she did not know how to take care of herself, I shouldn’t call her sensible.”
“ Wouldn’t mind marrying the old man if she had the chance, eh?”
" I hope she would not, sincerely.”
“ Oh, you approve of his marrying Miss Dalrymple, do you?”
"Undoubtedly—for his own sake and the sake of his child. It’s the very thing I have been persuading him to do.”
That sly look came into the corner of his blue eye and I could fancy him saying to himself—
"Here’s an old fool to let me into his client’s secrets. He was not sharp enough to see that my object was to put him on the wrong scent, and avert his suspicion from our actual wish and purpose.
"Well, if it is really to nuncky’s interest to marry the girl, I hope he may get her,” said he, giving me his hand; and we looked straight into each other’s face before saying good-bye. I read in his eyes, " But he sha’n’t marry her if I can help it.” What
he read in mine I cannot say.
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Business took me to London, and kept me there hard at it for a fortnight. I had scarcely time to think of old Flexmore, but I went straight to him the moment I returned. I found a perceptible difference in his appearance: he looked a couple of years older.
“ I am glad to see you, Tony,” he said, holding my hand in his and giving it a trembling shake from time to time. “I am getting anxious about the will. I can’t last long, I know; and I am very unsettled in my mind about many things/’
“You shall sign the draft, and that will hold good in case of accident, while the copy is being drawn up in form. We’ll settle that after dinner—for I mean to dine with you, George. There’s game cooking I can smell it.”
“Yes; we have had a good deal of game lately. Lynn brings something nearly every day.”
“ What! he came to stay a week, and is not gone yet?” I cried.
Flexmore shook his head.
“I don’t think he means to go away either,” he said.
I beat a tattoo on the table while I arranged my ideas on this subject.
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"What does he come here for? Do you know, George?” I asked.
" To see Miss Dalrymple, I believe. He is paying her marked attention.”
" I knew it! ” I cried, slapping my leg. " I saw what he was after.”
" Do you think he means to marry her ? Is that what you saw?”
"No; but I saw he had made up his mind to prevent you marrying her!”

CHAPTER IV.
AN UNLUCKY BEGGAR.
What I had not
foreseen was the means by which Lynn Yeames precluded an offer of marriage being made to Miss Dalrymple by his uncle. I had not thought of his making love to her himself; rather I anticipated his taking some underhand measures, in conjunction with his mother, to damage the young lady’s character and prejudice Flexmore against her.
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“You have not encouraged your nephew's visits, have you, George ? ” I asked.
“No; at the same time I could not refuse to receive him. There is nothing in his behaviour I could take exception to. Indeed he has tried his utmost to make himself agreeable.”
“ I don't doubt that for a moment, hang him! He can make himself pleasant if he likes, or unpleasant either. I warrant he's clever enough to keep his mother out of sight, eh ? ”
‘•She has not called since the day you met her here,” Flexmore answered.
“And what effect has he made upon Miss Dalrymple with his agreeable ways?”
“I am afraid she likes him. It is only natural she should be brighter and gayer in his society. I am very dull, and there are no visitors here—none of her own age—and then Lynn is clever and lively; he plays nicely, and sings well too----”
“ Oh, bother his singing! You don't mean to say he has charmed you with his songs?”
“No. I cannot like him. I fear he is not sincere. I may be prejudiced, but
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“ You re not. There’s no love-making yet a while— Nothing like an engagement ?99
“ Oh, no! He is simply very attentive, and she could not be ungracious.”
“We must stop it at that. There’s no time to be lost,” said I.
Do you think he intends to marry her ? ”
“ Not unless he’s sure she has money. If your money were settled on her, he would. We will set his mind at rest on that subject.”
“ How ?"
“You must sign your will, and give me permission to make its provisions known to Dr. Awdrey. I wager we will soon put Master Lynn’s nose out of joint. With the prospect of making that girl his wife, dear old Awdrey will be another man. . Lynn will sink into insignificance by the side of that fine fellow, despite his music and mongrel French.”
I took care to be on the road about the time Awdrey was starting on his rounds, and when he came up in his gig I asked him to give me a lift as far as Langly.
He had to shift half-a-dozen books from the seat beside him to make place for me.
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“What on earth are you carting your library about for ? ” I asked.
“ They’re only books of reference. Going along straight roads and up-hill I can give the old pony the reins and do a bit of work.”
“ You’re burning the candle at both ends ; it’s bad enough to sit up half the night over your books.”
“ It is the only sort of pleasure a man in my position can afford.”
“Then you should alter your position.”
“ It’s too late to begin a new career. It will come all right one of these days, perhaps. People will have more confidence in me at sixty. At present I don’t look as old as I feel.”
“ Families don’t care for bachelor doctors, that’s a fact. You ought to marry j ”
“ Marry ! ” exclaimed Awdrey, with a grim laugh, and then he looked ruefully into the distance.
“ Yes, marry,” I repeated. “ There’s Miss Dal-rymple, you ought to marry her.”
The colour mounted to his temple, but he said nothing in reply to my suggestion.
“You’ve known her some time, and you can’t have known her without finding out that she has admirable
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qualities, besides beiug as pretty a little lady as eyes could wish to rest on.”
“ That is true,” he murmured, caressing the neck of the old pony with the end of his whip.
“ Then why haven’t you proposed to her ? ” I asked sharply.
“Because I’m an unlucky beggar,” he replied bitterly—“an unlucky beggar.”
“No, you’re not.”
“ What, do you think she likes me ? ” he asked, with eager quickness—that being the sort of luck he I thought alluded to.
“ There’s no one who doesn’t like you.”
“ Oh, in a general way,” said he, in a tone of disappointment. “ Well, supposing she bad liked me well enough to risk the chance of poverty, do you think it would have been fair to take advantage of her courage, knowing what an unlucky beggar I am?”
“ But you’re not an unlucky beggar, I keep telling you.”
“Perhaps you will show me where my luck lies, for I can’t find it.”
“ I will show you,” said I, “ if I betray a client’s

confidence to do it. Read that,” and I put the draft of old Flexmore’s will into his hand, open, that he might have no hesitation in glancing at it.
He just ran his eye down the draft, which could be read at a glance, for I pride myself on writing legibly and bold, and then exclaimed, turning to me in astonishment—
“ Great Heavens ! Why should Flexmore leave me all this money ? ”
“ That you may be in a position to marry the girl you love, and that his child should have a good woman as well as a good man to protect and befriend her.”
He dropped his hand, and I folded up the draft and slipped it back in my pocket. When I glanced at him again he was staring into the distance, and there was moisture on the lower lash of his eye.
“I am an unlucky beggar,” he murmured again.
"You’ll make me mad if you say that again, Awdrey,” said I impatiently.
“ Too late 1 ” he faltered. “ If I had only known this a week ago.”
“ Well, what difference would that have made ? The draft was made out a fortnight ago.”
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“ I did not know it. How could I guess such a
“ You know it now, and that’s better than guessing it a week ago.”
He shook his head.
“Don’t you know that Lynn Yearnes is in love with her?” he asked.
“Lynn Yearnes is a sneaking hound!” I said. “ A cunning, double-faced-----53
He interrupted me.
“You must not say anything to me against him. He is my friend.”
“ Your friend ! How long has he been your friend ? ”
“A week to-morrow. Hfc came to me, and in a frank and loyal manner told me that he had heard I was an old friend of Miss Dairymple; he asked me if I were more than her friend—if I intended to make her my wife. I knew what that meant, and answered that I had no intention to marry her, and that she was free so far as I was concerned. ‘ In that case,’ said he, ‘ I shall make her my wife.’ And we shook hands on this understanding. With my hand in his, he asked if he might consider me his friend, and I answered heartily, yes!3”
thing ? ”

“Confound Lynn Yeames!” I cried, unable to control my exasperation.
“ You must admit that he acted openly and loyally,” said Awdrey. “You are deceived in him”
“Yes,” I replied, “for I did not think he was such a clever rascal as he is. Awdrey ”—I added, after a minute's thought—“you must forget last week.” “Forget that I renounced all hope of making Gertrude my wife! Forget an understanding made with a man to whom I gave my hand as a friend! You don't know me, Mr. Keene.”
“ Oh, yes, I do,” said I savagely. “ Put me down here. I might as well try to soften the Lord Chief Justice with a sigh as convert you from your principles with reasoning, obstinate, stiff-backed old pillmonger! Here, give me your hand,'’ I added, as I got to the ground, and I tried to hurt him with my grip.
“ There, I've done with you; go on,” said I; but as we parted, I added, speaking to myself, “But I’ve not done with Lynn Yeames yet, drat him! ’

CHAPTER V.
DIAMOND CUTS DIAMOND.
When I got back to my office I set about drawing up Flexmore’s will from the draft he had agreed to, and every word of it gave me pleasure, for I saw that it would bring everything right in the end.
“While Lynn Yearnes is doubtful as to the disposition of his uncle’s property,” said I to myself “ he will refrain from committing himself to an

actual promise of marriage. His affair with Miss Kite
will make him prudent in that respect; for he’ll know very well that he won’t get off for £400 a second time, if I can help it, and there’ll be no uncle to pay the costs. And when he does know that his uncle has not left him a stiver, he’ll drop Miss Dalrymple as a monkey drops a hot chestnut; then Awdrey will be freed from the Quixotic obligation he was lured into making, he will marry Nurse Gertrude, and all will end like a fairy story.”
I was talking to myself in this strain as I proceeded to engross the will, when who should come into my office but the very person uppermost in my thoughts —Lynn Yeames.
“ I have called to speak to you about that shooting, Mr. Keene,” said he, offering his hand.
I put my quill in my mouth, and gave him my hand, then I said—
“ One moment, Mr. Yeames—I will just finish this paragraph, and then we will go into your affair.” The fact was I first wanted to settle in my mind how I should play with this young gentleman.
Would it do, I asked myself, to let him know how his uncle intended to dispose of his money ? Would

that lead him to throw up at once a profitless game ? I decided that it would not do; for he would then perhaps be urged to get his uncle by hook or by crook to revoke this will. By the time I had got to the next “ whereas ” I saw a better plan than that.
“ Now, sir,” said I, laying down my pen, turning my chair to face my visitor, and nursing my hands on my knee. “Now, sir, I am entirely at your service.”
I assumed a suavity of manner I had not before employed with him, for I had to fight Mr. Lynn with his own weapon, viz.—hypocrisy.
“I should like to rent the shooting for another month, if I can,” he said.
“ There’s no difficulty about that. Sir Bartlemy Vere is going to Scotland, and I shall be only too glad to let the shooting for him—especially as it may keep you here longer than we hoped for.”
He seemed rather puzzled by my civility : he had not received much before. He looked at me keenly, could not make much by that, and then proceeded to look at his gaiters, tapping them carelessly with his stick.
“ I like the place better every day, and the life suits
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me more than I expected. I suppose all men are more or less creatures of circumstance and influenced by surrounding conditions. I thought the life of towns suited me while I was in them, but since I've been here I have come to see what a delusive mistake an artificial existence is. What can compare with a good brisk walk over the breezy downs, the simple fare of a country inn, the delight of lying down heavily fatigued, to wake at sunrise refreshed and vigorous ? ”
“To be sure, sir,” said I. “ Nothing in towns can compare with these pleasures, if one is properly constituted for their enjoyment. And certainly from a physical point of view you seem peculiarly fitted by nature for the life of a country gentleman.”
“ I am, Mr. Keene—I feel that I am. I only regret that I did not find out my mistake earlier. I have done many foolish things in the past four years, many things perhaps that are more than foolish. I should wish to forget the past altogether, but that the remembrance may serve to strengthen me in following a wiser and better course, if not a noble one.”
I will undertake to say that no young man, not naturally a humbug, ever made such a speech as this on the spur of the moment. I don't believe in sudden
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conversions, and the precipitate turning over of new leaves, by vigorous young fellows under five-and-twenty. Plums that have the appearance of ripeness before their season are rotten at the kernel invariably. However I smiled and nodded my hearty approval of his fine sentiments.
“ I suppose a man could live here for a couple of hundred a year ? ” he said, after a sigh over his misspent youth.
“ In a quiet way, he could live on that sum undoubtedly,’’ said I.
“ That’s all I want. I made a fortunate investment that brings me in about two hundred. Living with
my mother, who thinks of buying*that cottage------”
“ I can get it for her on very reasonable terms/’ said I. with a show of eagerness.
“ Of course, she would ask your assistance in the purchase.”
I rubbed my hands cheerfully, as if the prospect of getting ten per cent, out of the purchase delighted me, and promised to make a good bargain for Mrs. Yeames.
“ And so I hope to settle down to a peaceful life. I feel better already with the prospect of it.”
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I shook his hand in cordial felicitation, though it cost me an effort to swallow the humbug without making a wry face. But I saw suspicion in the corner of his blue eye.
“ This will be good news indeed for your uncle, Mr. Lynn,” said I.
“ Do you think he takes any interest in me ? ” he asked, trying to look indifferent.
“I assure you he does. He was speaking about you only yesterday—saying how much you had changed for the better in the last fortnight. It is only natural he should feel very deeply in this matter and watch this change in your character with keen delight. He is in failing health, you know.” I twiddled my thumbs, and looked at him significantly. “You are his kinsman—remotely.” I paused. “He is particularly anxious about the future of his little daughter.” I coughed. “ And though he may have unbounded faith in my integrity he would naturally prefer to place her welfare in the keeping of a relative who could devote himself exclusively to her interest. Up to the present time I have had the management of your uncle’s estate, but of course it would
be optional on his successor to employ me as agent.”
5

“ I should not wish to take it out of your hands, Mr. Keene—that is,” he said quickly, seeing the mistake into which he had been led by the excitement of the moment, “if the property ever should become mine.”
“ Thank you, Mr. Yeames. I'm sure I shall be most happy to serve you, as I have served your uncle, faithfully, and upon the lowest possible terms”
“ I shan't question your terms. Faithful services should be liberally rewarded in my opinion.”
I thanked him effusively, and sighed as if I had had a load taken off my mind.
“Well, sir," said I, “you cannot, of course, wish me to divulge professional confidence; but I may tell you this. Your uncle has instructed me to draw up his will, and this is it.” I laid my hand on the will. “And I may add for your further satisfaction, that had your character been other than he has found it in the past fortnight the terms of this will”—I patted the sheet impressively and dropped my voice—“ would have been very different from what they are.”
He was completely taken in; and so overcome
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with astonishment and delight to find, as he believed, that he was heir to £50,000, that for some minutes he could not command his thoughts, but simply answered “yes” or “no” to my remarks without really following what it was I talked about. He was thinking what he would do with that money when he got it. However, he recovered his selfpossession before he left, and when we shook hands in parting, that cunning look was in his eyes. I know well enough what was in his thoughts.
“ You old rascal!” he was saying to himself. “I can see now why you were so precious civil. You want me to let you go on fingering those £50,000 when they are mine.” That was just what I wanted him to believe.
In the evening there came a couple of brace of partridges with his card attached. At the first moment I felt disposed to pitch them into the yard for the cat to eat; but as the result of second thoughts I ate them myself, and found them just as good as if I had given an honest poulterer half-a-crown a brace for them.

CHAPTER VI.
TWO THASES OF A GOOD GIRL’S CHARACTER.
I DO not know whether I am particularly sharp in penetrating character—though I have a decent opinion of my ability in that respect—or whether other people are particularly obtuse; but this is a fact—Lynn Yeames succeeded in deceiving everybody but me.
He was of that class of charitable people who will give a guinea at any time to have their names in a subscription list, no matter what the object be—and five to head it. Lynn Yeames, Esq., of “ The Hut,” (as with affected humility he called "his mothers cottage when she had bought it), was down for everything. He interested himself in local matters, siding always with the majority; he became a member of the County Club, bought a
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horse and got admitted to the hunt; and with his good looks, manly bearing, admirable horsemanship, and skilful freehanded ness made himself generally popular. One way and another I reckoned he was living up to nearer eight hundred than two hundred a year.
“ A pretty rod you’re laying in pickle for yourself, my boy,” said I to myself, and chuckled to think how he would have to draw in his horns when he found that he was down in his uncle’s will for a trifling legacy of one hundred pounds instead of the £50,000 he was calculating upon.
All this time he was paying assiduous attention to Miss Dalrymple. He saw, though he said nothing about it to me, that his uncle was thinking of Laure’s future, and wished to provide for her perpetual association with Gertrude, and he knew the hold he had upon old Flexmore through this pretended attachment to her. Cunning rascal!
I let him go on, conscious that he would not go too far. It was not likely that, feeling now assured of that large inheritance, he would pledge himself to marry a penniless girl. With his uncle’s fortune and the effect he was now producing, he would be
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able to take the pick of the county when he wished to marry; and there were within twenty miles many girls more showy than quiet, unpretentious, little Miss Dairymple, girls with money, and much more to the taste of such a man as he. But though he would not be rash enough to actually engage himself, it was pretty certain that he would insidiously lead my unsuspecting little friend to believe that he intended to marry her, and I feared that he might obtain such a hold upon her affection that when he threw up the game, as he inevitably would when he discovered that there was nothing to win by it, the effect upon her would be serious. She was not a flirt; she had never cut up her heart into morsels aud scattered it about amongst a crowd of admirers; her heart was whole to be given to one man, and one only. She was serious and earnest in all things, and it seemed to me possible that she might never care to give to a second man the affection that had been despised by the first. For this reason I resolved if I got the opportunity to shake her faith in Mr. Lynn Yeames.
One day I met her alone in the road that cuts through the Hazledown Woods.

“ Here is a beautiful morning, Miss Dalrymple,” said I, holding her hand.
“ Oh ! it is beautiful! ” she exclaimed, looking round her. “ See how the rime still stands on the brake, and look how the drops glisten on the gossamer. And what lovely tints there are on the beeches, and the brambles down there.”
“You are thinking that they owe their beauty to decay.”
“ Why do you say that ? ”
“ Because your tone is sad.”
“ The woods are sad ; but I love the country for all that,” she hastened to add.
“ Yet you would prefer at this moment to be in your London hospital. You feel that you are wasting your time here—that’s the fact, isn’t it ? ”
“ I should be sorry to think that,” she replied, with quiet gravity.
“ But you are. Here you are saving the life of one child ; there you might be saving a duzen ”
“ They will be saved without me.”
“ And little Laure would be lost—that is true.”
“ Let us talk about the country,” she said, as we walked on.

“No; we will talk about people. Lawyers and ladies do not care for things; the business of their lives is with people. I've noticed an instance of this in picture galleries: the men, not lawyers, hang about the landscapes; the women flock round the figure pictures. I warrant you skip description of scenery in novels, and go on to where dialogue indicates human interest; if you don’t its because you are too conscientious.,,
She laughed lightly and then said—	^
“ Well, whom shall we talk about ?”
“There is a man worth talking about,” said I, pointing down to the cross roads, where I spied Dr. Awdrey jogging along in his gig on his beggarly round.
“ Oh, I don’t think there is a better man than he in all the world ! ” she cried, with enthusiasm.
“ If he were only a little more practical,” said I.
“I can’t see that he would be better for that, though he might have been more prosperous.”
“ How?”
u Do you know what he used to do at the hospital ? ”
“ No.”
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“ Sit down by the cots and tell the little ones fairy tales.”
“That’s characteristic of him,” said I laughing. " Well ? ”
“ The matron did not like it. She thought he was neglecting his duty; at any rate, she said so. And one day I heard Dr. Templeton say to him, ‘ Awdrey, if you want to get on, you’ll give the brats physic instead of stories.’ ”
“ And that made no difference to his course of treatment, I suspect ? ”
“ Not a bit. And oh, how the children loved him! ” “ And hated the matron. I can guess the rest, he had to clear out of the hospital ?”
She inclined her head, and presently said—
“ I sometimes think he would have died a martyr had he lived a long while ago.”
“ I don’t see what else there is in store for him now if he is left to his own devices. There he goes, to look after a lot of thankless vagabonds, who’ll never pay him for saving their lives.”
“ It is a higher form of martyrdom, I suppose.”
“ I don’t believe in martyrdom.”
“ What would you have him do ? ”
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“ Make the beggars pay. Give all he can spare to charities as an advertisement. You must be practical to be good. Keep pace with the times. Advertise yourself and make money.”
“ That would not make him better.”
“ It would increase his power of doing good, and enable him to live happily.”
She looked thoughtfully before her for a minute, then she said—
“ Do you think he could ever be happy—in the ordinary sense of the word ? ”
“ Yes, if he married.”
“ Married ! ” she echoed, in surprise, as if such an idea had never before occurred to her. “ I cannot think of that as a cure for unhappiness in his case.”
“ Why not ? ”
“ He is so—so serious.”
“And ought not a man to be serious when he marries ? Is it not one of the gravest responsibilities a man can take on himself—or a woman either, for that ? ”
“ I mean to say that he seems so absorbed in his studies.”
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“ Because it is his only escape from misery.”
She made no response.
“ You must not forget that this serious man, despite
with fairy stories.”
“ I do not think he will ever marry,” she said, shaking her head gravely, after a pause.
“ Why not ? ” I asked; “ he is a man—and a fine man, too.”
She was silent.
“ The only difficulty,” I continued, “ is in getting any one to have him.”
She looked surprised.
“ A man without superficial attractions and without money,” said 1, shrugging my shoulders, “ what chance has he ? ”
“Do you think all girls are either silly or mercenary ? ” she asked.
“ There’s a third section: but they don’t care for good men ; they prefer rakes.”
I have mentioned the girl’s trick of blushing, and looking sidelong in the expectation of seeing this home-thrust bring the colour up to her temples, I was surprised to see that it produced rather a contrary effect.
being absorbed in study, could bewitch little children
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She blanched, and echoed my word in a low tone of deprecation.
“ I don't mean an absolutely bad man, but one who thinks he is reformed,” said I, “ and attributes, or leads it to be imagined that he owes, his reformation to the girl’s influence.”
I was morally certain that Lynn Yeames had not ascribed his change to the effects of a country life in his conversation with Gertrude, however he had chosen to represent it to me.
“ It flatters the girl's vanity to think that she has redeemed the man,” I added.
“ Is it vanity and nothing else that makes one delight in doing good ? ”
“I can't say, my dear—not having had much experience in that way myself; but this I know, that every good girl must be doing good, ought to be doing good, or thinks she is doing good.”
“We are not worth much if we do not, you think ? ” she asked.
“ Yes, that is what I do think—not only of girls, but men as well (bar lawyers). I speak of good girls, and no good girl would he content to be a mere toy, an idle plaything, for a man's leisure

moments. And the wish to save some man from evil courses too often leads the girl herself into aD evil course”
“ An evil course ? ” she said, interrogatively.
“ Yes: the evil course of putting faith in appearances, and lending a credulous ear to empty protestations. That course may lead to irremediable misfortune and life-long unhappiness ”
This was plain enough in all conscience, yet she did not allow herself to show that she saw the personal allusion to her own case. She was a wonderfully self-possessed young woman, and moreover had too much principle to suffer the opinion of others to bias her own estimate of a trusted friend; indeed, I believe that her loyal heart became only the more staunch by the defence of those she loved against an accusation in which she herself found no reason to participate. Of this she gave convincing proof later on, as I shall show.
Soon after this a ball was given, in aid of some philanthropic cause, of course—I forgot what; people will dance or dine to alleviate any misery that might have been prevented at half the cost.—and equally of course, Lynn Yeames was a steward and

figured prominently in the advertisements. Well, whether it was to please herself, or to please Lynn Yeames, or just to show she did not value my warning at two straws, I don’t know; but this is certain, Miss Dalrymple went to that ball under the protection of Mrs. Yeames, who, ever since the discovery at the flower-show, had shown herself mighty civil to the young lady. I went also, not to dance, it is certain, but to keep in with my clients for I hold that a man to succeed must be seen everywhere, and not bury himself in his study like poor Dr. Awdrey, who, I dare say, was sitting by some ailing pauper, or grinding away with a pestle and mortar and a book before him, while the girl he loved was being hugged and twizzled round by his rival.
I look upon dancing as a protest of natural man against civilization, and if you just close your ears to the music and simply look at twenty or thirty couples of men and women hopping about like demented grasshoppers you must admit that the least said about the march of intellect in this nineteenth century the better. Nevertheless, it charmed me to watch Miss Dalrymple. Her eyes black as sloes

with excitement, her face glowing with healthy exercise, her pretty figure and supple body taking
“GRINDING away with a pestle and mortar and a book before him.”
on the prettiest curves with her graceful movements, her little feet moving quicker than the eye could

follow them; she looked prettier than ever I had seen her yet. No, there was not one in the room to compare with her, either in looks or movement. I wondered how ever I could have thought her plain.
“If they were all like you, my dear,” said I to myself, “it would be a real pleasure to come to these affairs ”
She enjoyed it thoroughly, for she was young and healthy in mind and body, and could be wise without being morose, and meriy without being what is called fast. The music, the motion, the light and brightness of the surroundings exhilarated her; and then she must have known that she danced well and was admired, and I believe such a belief as that would set the Lord Chancellor jigging in his wig and gown. I think it mattered little to her whom she danced with, so that he danced well, for she was free from any idea of flirtation, and just as innocent and pure and sweet and good as she looked.
I wished Awdrey, who loved her, had been there to
see this side of her character, but on second thoughts
I was glad he had other matters to think about; for
the pleasure of seeing her happy, though it would
have delighted his honest, unselfish heart, must have ti
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been outweighed by the pain of thinking she could never be to him but a beautful vision to look upon.
That is what he would have felt, not knowing what I knew, and how all things would turn out for the best in the end—how Lynn would be discomfited, how his real disposition would be seen when he discovered the mistake I had led him into, how Miss Dairymple would then see clearly the fate she had escaped, and how her heart would turn to the really good man when she was disenchanted of the merely showy one.
But this I could not have hinted to him, so on the whole I was glad to think there were paupers and pestles and mortars and books to keep him away. Miss Dairy mple was recognized as the belle of the ball—she could have filled her programme a dozen times, I know. She danced every dance—three with Lynn Yeames—the first, the supper dance, and the last.
I enjoyed seeing her dance with every one except with Lynn Yeames' and it stirred up all the bile in my nature when he took her hand and put his arm round her waist. He trod on one old gentleman’s toe, and I wished it had been mine; for in

that mood I only wanted an excuse to knock his head off.
The fact is I was as jealous as though I had been in love with Miss Dalrymple myself—which, of course, I was not; an old fellow in his sixtieth year—sixty-second, in fact!

CHAPTER VII
LYNN FALLS INTO A TRAP,
DID not anticipate any serious consequences from
that ball. It seemed to me that Miss Dalrymple was entirely occupied with the delight of dancing, and doubtless no thought of anything else could have entered her head without being suggested to her. But that was not the case with Lynn Yearnes. One can imagine what passes in the mind of a fox as he looks on a brood of ducklings sporting in a pond. He is just lying 'perdu licking his chops and waiting for the plumpest and nicest to come off the water. Some one, a lady, I will not tell you who, has just looked over my shoulder and whispered—“Try to be just!” Very well, then; the most generous— supposition I can make with regard to Lynn Yeames is that he was carried away by the good looks of

Miss Dalrymple, and perceiving that she was the best woman of the throng, both in appearance and family connection, he magnanimously resolved to sink the consideration of her being poor and resolved to secure her at any price, no matter how rich he might be by the death of his uncle.
Somehow or other he proposed to her that night —between the dances, perhaps when he led her into the adjoining room for refreshment, though more probably the old woman, his mother, shammed sleep in the brougham to give her son the opportunity as they were taking Miss D. home. How I came to know of it was in this wise—
Two mornings after the ball Dr. Awdrey called on me looking as yellow as an old title deed.
“You must go up to Flexmore House at once/' he said, without asking me how I was or any other preliminary civility.
“ What for ? ” I asked, for his manner was so set and firm I could make nothing of it.
“ Flexmore is in a critical condition—there’s not a moment to spare.”
“What’s the matter with him?” I asked, as I took my hat from the peg.
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“ Heart disease. He had an attack yesterday morning; another may be fatal.”
“Poor old fellow! Does he know his danger? Is he conscious?”
“Yes, perfectly. He knows his condition; that is why he wishes to see you at once.”
“ What does he want me for ? ” I asked, suddenly guessing at the truth from the doctors manner.
“He wants to see you about that fool of a will you drew up for him.”
I was about to defend “ that fool of a will ”; but he drew me away impatiently.
“ Get into my trap,” he said, “ I tell you there is no time to waste ”
“Aren’t you coming with me?” I asked, as he put the reins in my hand.
“ No; I have another case to attend. I can do nothing for Flexmore at present; Miss Dalrymple has my instructions and I can rely on her carrying them out.”
I drove over to Flexmore House suspecting mischief. I found my old friend in bed, but perfectly calm and collected. Miss Dalrymple was in the room with little Laute, who clung to her hand as though
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she felt that soon there would be but that to protect and befriend her. Flexmore took my hand with a smile—a silent greeting that was more touching than words.
“ My dear,” he said to Miss Dalrymple, “ you must leave us for a few minutes, please; we have a little matter of business to discuss, my old friend and I/’
She went from the room with the child, after warning me in a whisper that Mr. Flexmore was not to be excited, and that my visit should be short.
“Well, what is it, George?” I asked, going back to the bedside.
“ Tony, you must alter that will or draw up another
at once.”
A grunt on my part told him that I understood, if I did not approve, what he said.
“ You thought right to tell Dr. Awdrey of the provision I had made ? ” said he.
“ Yes, and I very sincerely wish I hadn’t. Awdrey’s a fool,” said I.
“ No, he is not, Tony. He’s a fine fellow in every way—a grand fellow.”
“Well, what has he done lately to give you that opinion, hey ? ”

“ He refuses to be Laure’s guardian or trustee for her fortune.,,
“ He cant get out of it it you let the will stand; we shall see------’’
“ But the will must not stand; he has shown me that. For the child’s sake, for that dear girl, Gertrude’s sake, it must he altered. They must not be separated. The money must be left in trust, and her guardian and trustee must be my nephew, Lynn Yeames.”
“Nonsense! As soon as Lynn Yeames finds he has nothing, he’ll cease to pester Miss Dairymple; he’ll never marry her if he gets the money ; and then how is your little,Laure to live with her? A proof that he doesn’t mean to marry her is that he has been hanging about her for months, but has carefully refrained from binding himself to any engagement.”
“You are wrong, Keene. He proposed to her the night before last.”
This took my breath away, and left me no ground to stand on.
“ And she accepted him V9 I gasped, after an in-erval of silence.
“She did. Yeames told Dr Awdrey yesterday
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morning. He came at once to me, and arrived at the very moment I was seized with the attack—otherwise I might not have survived it. He was with me all night; and this morning, finding me sufficiently recovered to listen to argument, he had this out with me. He has the highest opinion of Lynn—so has Miss Dalrymple, or she would certainly not have accepted him. I myself see no reason to disbelieve in him. In fact, it's only you, Tony, who stick out so obstinately against him, and you, as every one knows, are a man of strong prejudices—very strong prejudices.”
“la man of strong prejudices?” I gasped. “I, a lawyer, whose business it is to weigh both sides of a question and decide impartially? I, an old man of the world---”
“ I don't care what you may be; I know you’re an obstinate, pig-headed old fellow. God bless you, though!—but you must let me have my way—I know I am right. No argument will change me— I must have my way.”
A gentle rap at the door reminded me that I must not excite my poor, weak-minded old friend, nor prolong my visit unduly.

" Good,” said I. " I’ll draw up another will. It shall be just as you wish.”
"Thank you; thanks, Tony. You have merely to scratch out Awdrey’s name, and substitute my nephew’s. The will is in that box; the key--------”
"Oh, I don’t want that. I have the draft at my office. There must be no scratching out in a thing of this kind. A new will must be properly drawn up.”
He gave me his hand, and held it with an expressive look; it seemed to say to me "We have been friends, you and I, many years, Anthony Keene, and soon it will be ended. You will be a friend to me to the last, and let no opinion of your own impede the fulfilment of this my last wish; ” and I nodded, for I could not speak because of my emotion. Then I went away, determined to carry out his instructions to the letter, and return with the will for him to sign as quickly as I could.
As I left the house, I spied Lynn Yeames coming down the road; but I had no patience to speak to him, and jumping in the doctor’s gig, I drove off as quickly as I could.
He saw me. My haste must have disquieted him. “ What’s that old lawyer doing there ? ” he doubtless
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asked himself. I believe he partly suspected the truth : that Flexmore had sent for me to alter his will —anything but a pleasant prospect to him, who believed that the will already made was in his favour.
I kept the gig at the door; and then, going into my office, I fetched out the draft of the old will and a sheet of foolscap to write the new one upon. Just at that moment my housekeeper came in to say that my lunch was served. I had an hour’s work before me; it would take me another hour and a half to carry it over to Flexmore, get his signature, and return. Whether I took the will over in an hour and a half or in two hours did not make much difference in my belief; but it mattered a good deal whether I went without lunch for two and a half hours; and reflecting that a man always works better and quicker if his physical wants are supplied, I resolved to knock off my meal before I went any farther.
Just as I was finishing, there was a ring at the bell, and my housekeeper brought in word that Mr. Lynn Yeames wished to see me. “ Ah, ah!” thought I, “ he wants to pump me again, does he ? All right, so he shall.” So I bade the housekeeper show him
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into my office, and say I would be with him in a minute or two. I emptied my glass, and rose to join my visitor in the next room.
In that moment it struck me that I had left the draft of the old will on the office table beside the sheet of fresh foolscap.
I went on tiptoe to the door, and peeped through the green taffety blind. Lynn Yeames was standing by the table, looking round him curiously; I could see him distinctly, but he could not see me, by reason of the light from the office window falling on the blind. Quickly he caught up the draft, and ran his eye down it.
Now this being only a draft, had neither date nor signature, and he must have jumped at once to the conclusion that it was the copy of a will I was about to draw up; and seeing that by this draft all Flexmore’s money w^as left to Awdrey, it must have convinced him that this instrument was intended to revoke that will which I had led him to believe was made in his favour.
The sheet fell from his hand; he stooped hastily, picked it up and replaced it on the table. I moved a chair, made a clatter with an empty plate as if I
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were just rising from my lunch, then I opened the door and entered my office briskly. Lynn Yeames was seated at some distance from the table, and looking as pale as a muffin.
“How do you do, sir?” said I. “You don’t look quite yourself this morning.”
“ I am upset: my uncle is in a critical condition —I don’t know whether you know it.”
“Yes,” said I, shaking my head gravely. “I’m afraid it is all over with my old friend this time. We must prepare for the worst—we must prepare for the worst, Mr. Yeames,” I repeated, significantly.
It told, that shot, though he pretended not to be hit. “Yes, yes,” said he uneasily; “I came over to tell you—I thought you ought to know, in case there was any legal matter to arrange.”
“As it happens there is a very important matter to arrange. I have just come back from Flexmore House—you heard nothing there?”
“Nothing—my uncle could not see me. What is the matter?”
“Well—of course I can place confidence in you, Mr. Yeames?”
“ I give you my word of honour that—you may
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depend upon my secrecy,” he hastened to assure me.
" Good, sir. I trust to your honour. Tour uncle is about to revoke his will.” And I glanced significantly at the papers on the table. “ I assure you,” I continued, " I have done all in my power to persuade him to the contrary.”
"Of course you have, in your own interest,” said he savagely.
“One must consider one’s own interests sometimes ; and after having had the management of the estate for so many years------”
"What on earth has induced him to revoke it?” he asked, taking very slight pains to conceal his chagrin.
I hummed and hahed for some time, and then I said, "I believe he has been considerably influenced by Dr. Awdrey.”
" Good Heavens ! ” he exclaimed. “ What has he been talking about?”
" Well,” said I still with a good deal of sham hesitation, "I believe you were indiscreet enough to inform him that you had proposed to, and been accepted by, Miss Dalrymple.”
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He started as I told him this.
“ To what use has the rascal put that knowledge ? ” he asked.
“ We must not call Dr. Awdrey a rascal, sir,” said I. “All of us have our own interests to look after. And really Dr. Awdrey!s case is plausible enough.”	'
“I don’t understand you; what do you mean? he asked sharply.
“You see it’s almost an open secret, at any rate the fact has for some time been known to Dr. Awdrey that my old friend Flexmore wished Miss Dalrymple to marry the doctor—one of those curious fads that invalids occasionally take up. I don’t know if you have ever remarked------”
“Go on, go on, for heaven’s sake!” he exclaimed, interrupting me impatiently.
“Well, sir, lately it has been obvious that Flex-more’s daughter Laure has formed a very strong attachment for Miss Dalrymple—a most extraordinary attachment.”
“Yes, I know all about that. Go on.”
“ Well, you see it is obvious that Miss Dalrymple cannot marry both you and Dr. Awdrey; while, at

the same time, it is equally evident that were you the child’s guardian, and from any unforeseen accident you might alter your intention with regard to matrimony, Miss Dalrymple could only marry Dr. Awdrey by separating herself from the child Laure.”
“ But I could be trustee to the child’s fortune, and leave her guardianship to Miss Dalrymple, couldn’t
“Oh, certainly, if there were time to persuade your uncle to such an arrangement, which,” I added, with a profound sigh, “I fear there is not.”
He turned his back upon me, and going to the window looked out into the thick gray mist, while I, with two or three little coughs, seated myself at the table, and began laboriously to draw up the new will, my spectacles low down on my nose, and one hand on the old draft, which I frequently consulted.
“ How long will you be before you take that thing up to the house to be signed ? ” asked Lynn Yeames who, as I lifted my eyes, I found was regarding me attentively.
I looked at my watch, and then raising my eyebrows at the draft—
“ Dr. Awdrey was good enough to lend me his gig
I?”

that no time should be lost; and if all goes well, I shall be at Flexmore’s house at half-past two—near as possible.”
He drew his hat a little lower over his brows, and quitted my office without a word. As the door slammed, I laid down my pen, put my hands on my knees, and had a good chuckle, for I felt I had played that game of cross purposes very well.
But how would it end ? That I could not foresee. That he had gone off with some definite and immediate purpose I was convinced. Would he in the next hour undo himself completely by throwing off Miss Dalrymple and making his uncle understand that he had no intention of marrying her ? It would be sharp work; but men lose no time when their fortunes are at stake. “We shall see,” said I, returning to my work, for which I hoped there would be no need when I went up for Flexmore's signature.
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CHAPTER VIII.
I FALL OUT OF A TRAP.
TT was two o’clock when I got into the doctor’s gig with the new will. My house was just on the outskirts of the town; Flexmore’s was two or three miles beyond, on the other side of Beagle Woods.
The mist had been thick all the morning; but it was thicker than ever when I started, so that I could not see three yards ahead with my glasses on. However, I knew I could trust to the intelligence of the doctors nag, who took that road every day in the week, and nights as well sometimes; and with my collar well up, and my nose well down in a comforter, off I started.
I jogged along pretty comfortably until we got into the Beagle Woods; there the mist seemed to have settled down into a solid block, and the big

trees that skirt the road on either side increased the obscurity. However the nag kept on her ambling trot—I believe the beast was so accustomed to the road that she was dozing best part of the time—till presently, smash I Down she went without any kind of warning, up dashed the seat of the gig, and out I flew, as though I had been shot from a catapult.
I was on my legs in a moment, for my first thought was of the will I had stuck under the seat cushion, and I feared the nag would start up and bolt with it. I could hear her breathing heavily; she did not attempt to move. I ran back in that direction, when —bang! over I went again, flat on my nose. I had felt something strike against my shins, and as I rose to my feet once more, I discovered the cause of both falls—a cord was stretched across the road.
It slackened as I touched it, and the next moment was whisked out of my hands. Was this the wanton mischief of boys, or the sinister design of some one bent upon plunder?
“ My name’s Anthony Keene, and you shall suffer for this, you vagabonds, whoever you are ! ” I shouted, as I groped my way to the gig. I am well known
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in Coneyford, and I knew that if they were boys they would scuttle off on hearing my name.
There was no sound of voice or footfall—only the old nag gasping on the ground; then I felt sure it was the work of a man. But I was not fearful of any further mischief, for the thief must be foolhardy indeed to attack an old lawyer, who is more likely to get him into trouble than yield much in the way of booty.
Feeling about the poor old horse, I found that both the shafts were broken, so there was no thought of going on in the gig even if the horse’s legs were not broken as well. The will was just where I had stuck it, under the strap of the cushion; I clapped it in my pocket, and, after a moment’s reflection, started off to walk the remainder of the journey, leaving horse and trap in the road to take their chance.
A nice walk I had—tumbling into a ditch on the right, and then a ditch on the left, running flat up against a brick wall, and then pitching on to a pile of flints by the roadside, all the time in such darkness and impenetrable fog, that for all I knew I might have been walking half the time in a circle.

To make matters worse, I found my nose was bleeding from the fall I got over the cord. It seemed to me I should never get to my journey's end.
However, after a time it grew less obscure, which made me think I must have got clear of the Beagle Woods, which was a comfort; and shortly afterwards I heard footsteps approaching.
“ Who's there ? ” I called, when I felt it was time to speak, lest I ran into something fresh.
"Sam Martin. Be that you, Muster Keene?” replied a well-known voice.
"Yes, it is. How far am I from Mr. Flexmore’s house ? ”
“ About half a mile—keep straight on by the'paling. Thought it were you, Mr. Keene, by your little squeaking voice. Shall I turn back wi’ ye?”
“ No. Go straight on. I've left the doctor's trap in the road—horse down—see what you can do with it, Sam Martin, and take care no one else comes into mischief over it.”
I got to the palings by the park, and kept them in touch until at length I reached the carriage drive gate of Flexmore House. By this time, what with
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one accident and another, it must have been pretty nearly four o’clock.
There were lights in the house. Before the door stood Lynn Yeames’s mare, Flexmore’s gardener holding his head.
“Afternoon, sir,” said he in an undertone that spoke of calamity. There was foreboding silence also on the part of the maidservant as she opened the sitting-roonl door.
Miss Dalrymple was on her knees before a big chair drawn near the fire, in which little Laure sat her face buried in her hands. They were not aware • of my presence, so softly had the maid opened and closed the door.
Miss Dalrymple drew the child’s head upon her bosom and bent her lips down to the little brow? and then began to murmur words of sympathy and love in her low, sweet, tender voice. I knew what had happened, and would not disturb that gentle communion. I stood there looking at that touching picture through tears that dimmed my eyes. It may have been only the effect of the fog, those tears; it may have been the reflection that I should never more hear my old friend’s voice, or it may have been
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this testimony of a woman’s compassion. Dealing with men and women, for the most part hard and selfish, makes one cynical, and blunts the edge of fine feeling; yet there is still, thank God, a corner of my heart soft and susceptible to the touch of
Presently the child threw her arms about Miss Dalrymple’s neck, and cried—
“But we shall never be parted. You will stay with me always ? ”
“ Yes, dear little one—I will stay with you always. Nobody shall part you and me,” replied Miss Dalrymple.
Then a long sigh fluttered up from the child’s heart, and still clinging to her neck she pressed her cheek to this dear friend’s face, and gazed into the
And so I left them—opening and closing the door behind me in silence.
“Where is Mr. Yeames?” I asked of the maid who waited in the hall.
“Up stairs in master’s room, sir,” she replied lugubriously.
Yeames was standing by his uncle’s bedside; he
pity.
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thrust his hands quickly in his pockets as the door opened and I entered. No one else was there.
I went in silence to the bed and looked down, Flexmore's eyes were closed, but his jaw had dropped. The gaping mouth shocked me; and I turned away after a single glance. It was not thus I had hoped to look upon that face.
"You're a bit too late with that will,” said Yeames, in a tone and with an expression on his face that implied a good deal—a tone of subdued jocularity, a cunning leer that bade me understand he knew why I hadn't come earlier. "Why, what have you been doing?” he asked with surprise. "You're a sight to be seen.”
" How long has he been gone ? ” I asked, indifferent as to my appearance.
* Oh, not above a quarter of an hour. Gertrude's just gone down. She did all that was possible to restore vitality. But it's all over this time. He won't come back any more, as the song says.”
“ Have you sent any one for Dr. Awdrey ? He ought to be here.”
" Of course he ought, but I suppose he's got some interesting pauper to look after. I went for him,
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myself. The old boy was shocking bad when I arrived here after leaving you. I went over to Awdrey at once, but he was out; came back, and by that time nuncky was pretty near the finish.”
“ Was he in a state of unconsciousness at that time or not ? ”
“ Well, he was conscious enough to ask for you, and wonder why you hadn’t turned up.”
It occurred to me that Lynn Yeames, seeing his uncle’s precarious condition, had himself stretched that cord for me instead of going for Dr. Awdrey, in order to prevent my arriving in time to get Flexmore’s signature to the will.
“ Do you know why 14 did not turn up,’ as you call it?” I asked sharply.
“Not I; but you’re not sorry, I suppose, that you did not get here in time ? ”
It was on the tip of my tongue to retort “ Not so sorry as you may have reason to be, Mr. Yeames; ” but I said nothing, for I wished to see how far this young man’s fatuity would carry him, and contented myself with thinking of the bitter punishment in store for him when he should find out how completely he had deceived himself. Certainly no self-deception

could be more complete than his. Assured of my venality, led away by his own hopes and overconfidence in the successful issue of his cunning, he apparently felt as sure of being possessed of his uncle's fortune as though the thousands were already in his hands.

o

A PELLET OF PAPEB.
rjHERE are some men who have so little self-respect that they do not keep up a decent pretence of virtue when the object is achieved for which it was first assumed, and Lynn Yeames was one of these.
He already took upon himself the airs of master in that house, and with a grand patronage bade me come down and take a glass of sherry. I complied, for after the shaking I had received I was in no mood to refuse.
We went into the sitting-room. Laure was lying on the couch holding the hand of Miss Dalrymple, who sat on a stool by her side.
“ Oh, haven’t you got all that over yet ? ” Lynn asked petulantly, glancing at them. “ Sit down, Keene.” He touched the bell “ It’s absurd nonsense
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to encourage morbid feeling and mawkish sentiment about a thing that’s been foreseen for weeks—an
inevitable thing a---sherry and biscuits for Mr.
Keene.” The latter addressed to the servant who came to the door. “ I say it’s nonsense ! ”
“Lynn!” said Miss Dalrymple, in a tone of mingled surprise, regret, and remonstrance.
"I say it’s nonsense,” he repeated harshly, “and you ought to know it, Gertrude, with your experience; the child has been petted and pampered till she’s unhealthy. It’s exactly what my mother has maintained all along. However I shall alter all that—the girl will be packed off to a good, wholesome boarding-school as soon as the funeral is over.”
Miss Dalrymple looked perfectly amazed by this extraordinary outburst; she could not understand the meaning of it. I could well enough.
Mr. Yeames had already thought better of his proposal to make penniless Miss Dalrymple a partaker in his fortune, and did not care how soon there should be a breach between them. It was this rather than any sudden fit of dislike to Laure—whom he detested always—which had led him to make this savage onslaught.
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Laure clung closer than ever to her only friend, and looked in terror at Lynn. Miss Dalrymple held her hand firmly.
The servant brought in the sherry and I helped myself. Lynn waited till the servant was gone, and then, going to the window, said—
“ I shall go over and fetch Awdrey. The certificate must be seen about at once. Go and get my hat from the library* Laure.”
Miss Dalrymple rose.
"I said Laure,” said Lynn, turning upon them majestically.
The child sprang up and sped from the room to fetch the bully’s hat; Miss Dalrymple stood with heaving bosom and close-pressed lips, and not a particle of colour in her face. She could not speak before me.
Lynn met her calm gaze with bent brows, and turned again to the window, flicking his handkerchief from his side pocket in a manner which by itself was insolent and offensive.
But in doing this he flicked a little pellet of paper out. It fell against my toe, and I quickly covered it with my foot. The next moment he thrust his hand
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sharply in the pocket from which he had flicked out this pellet, then shook his handkerchief and looked about the floor at his feet.
“ What dreadful weather, Miss Dalrymple,” said I, setting down my glass.
Lynn Yeames went hastily from the room, snatching his hat out of Laure’s hand as he passed.
I picked up the pellet of paper and slipped it into my waistcoat pocket.
“ Oh, is this true, dear—is it true ? ” cried little Laure under her breath, as she joined Miss Dal-rymple. “ Will he send me away from you ? Will he part us?”
“ No, my child,” said I, going up to them. “Take this assurance from an old man who loves you for your fathers sake, and Nurse Gertrude for her own —you shall not be parted ”
I left them. As I passed through the hall I caught sight of Lynn Yeames on the landing above with a lighted candle, looking about for the pellet of paper I was carrying away in my pocket.

A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE
what I call my “ handy
drawer”-—a good large
drawer that slides easily
and fastens with a
patent key, and divided
into a score of com
partments. In this I
put away anything that
I think may come m
handy at some future
time, and an alphabetical index on a side of paper
tells me at a glance in which nest to find what I
want. I recommend a drawer of this kind to any one
Original from
 PUEL C L BRARY

of a practical and methodical turn of mind : he will have recourse to it more frequently than he anticipates, and find it occasionally of inestimable value.
Well, into this drawer, Nest Y, I put that pellet of paper after making a careful examination of it, and indexed it thus:—
“Yeames.—Pellet of paper jerked out of his pocket day of Flexmore’s death, Dec. 18, 188—.”
I shall have more to tell about this later on—a good deal more.
In the evening of that day I saw Dr. Awdrey; he came to me with a face as long as a fiddle.
“ That’s an unfortunate accident that happened to you this afternoon,” he said.
-It might have been worse,” said I, feeling my nose. “ I came plump down on it. Wonder I didn’t break it.”
“ I’m not speaking of that,” said he, putting down his hat and seating himself.
“ Oh, you’re thinking of your property.” The poor
old nag had put his shoulder out, and had to be
killed, and both shafts of the gig were smashed.
u Well, if your old horse had not been thrown down,
you would have been thousands out of pocket.”
8

“ You know what I mean: it is an unfortunate accident that prevented your arriving in time for Flexmore to sign the new will as he wished.”
“ There we differ. I do not regard the accident as unfortunate from that point of view.”
“ Well, what is to be done about it ? The old will is virtually revoked.”
“ But actually it stands as good as ever it was, and so it shall stand.”
“ Supposing I refuse to accept the guardianship of Flexmore's child.”
“ You can't refuse. Common sense will not let you ; humanity will not let you; I will not let you. Have you seen Lynn Yeames since his uncle's death ? ” “No; he had left Flexmore House five minutes before I arrived. I hear he called at my house, but I came by the other road. Since then I have been unable to find him anywhere.” v
“ That's a pity. I should have liked you to see him as I saw him. He is so confident of being his uncle’s heir that he has thrown off all restraint, every pretence of decency, and shows himself the hectoring bully, the heartless rascal I have always believed him to be.”
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“ Impossible; ” he exclaimed, looking incredulously at me, who alone of all men he doubted and looked upon as misguided by prejudice.
“ I tell you it is a fact. He was brutal to little Laure, and he insulted Miss Dalrymple before my face. Why ? Because now that he believes himself master of his uncle’s fortune, he wishes to break off his engagement with her. He has no more intention of marrying her now than he had the first day he came to Coneyford.”
“I can’t understand you—a man so clear in judgment on most things-----”
“ Get that nonsense out of your head, doctor. I tell you I am no more prejudiced against him than I am in favour of you. He’s a selfish, heartless scoundrel.”
“ You will never make me believe that of Lynn Yeames.”
“He shall make you believe it of himself. Abstain from letting him know how Flexmore’s money is to be disposed of, and watch him between now and the reading of the will. He already talks of sending the child away to a boarding-school, and, as I tell you, reproved Miss Dalrymple before me for being too sympathetic and kind to her.”
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“ But why should he believe himself to be his uncle’s heir?”
“ Because he fell into a trap, and was led to believe so by me. And I’ll tell you something else, doctor. He believed that this new will was to revoke an existing will in his favour; and I am convinced that he stretched the cord that threw the trap over and delayed me, that this will might not be signed ; and nicely he has defeated his own ends by it. I'd forgive him for that if my nose had been broken.”
“ I think I can upset that theory, at least,” said Awdrey. “ What time was it when you were thrown from the gig ? ”
“About two o’clock, as nearly as I can reckon,” said I.
“ Good. He left Flexmore House to fetch me at one o’clock ; he was at my house at half-past, and he waited there for me until ten minutes past two.”
He had proved an alibi for Lynn, and I had to admit I must be in the wrong on this point.
“ And so you are, I am sure, on other points respecting him,” said the doctor.
“We shall see that. Keep your mind unprejudiced, and watch that young man during the next four or

five days,” said I, as I opened the door to let him out.
Unfortunately, this chance of clearing his mind was denied to us.
The next morning, when I called at Flexmore House, I heard that he had not been seen since he left, shortly after my departure, to fetch Dr. Awdrey ; and in the course of the day I learnt that he had gone to London. This did not surprise me. “ He’s gone to see a London solicitor about this affair,” I thought; “ and may he be bled pretty freely by my learned friends!55
Betimes on Thursday I called again at the house, for I had made up my mind to visit the inmates there every day, knowing how long and dreary the days must be for them in the darkened house, and that the child, at least, looked upon me as a protecting friend. Miss Dalrymple was bending over her work with a worn and anxious look upon her sweet face. Little Laure started up with a terrified expression in her eyes, as though she expected to see Lynn Yeames witharope in his hand come to haul her off toa boarding school, as I opened the sitting-room door. Both of their poor faces lit up with pleasure when I said—
Original from  

“ It's only I—the old lawyer—come to bother you for some papers.”
Laure ran up, threw her arms round my neck, and kissed me; and, still hugging me, she whispered—
“You don’t forget what you promised ?”
“No,” I whispered back. “No one shall take you away from Nurse Gertrude.”
“Not Aunt Yeames, nor Cousin Lynn—not anybody ? ”
“Not anybody, with a hundred Aunt Yeameses and fifty Cousin Lynns to back him.”
“You are a nice old dear I” she said, giving me another kiss; and then she ran away laughing, to whisper to Miss Dalrymple all about? our secret—at once a woman and a child.
I gossiped for best part of an hour, raking up all the news of the village, for there’s nothing like trifling chat for people in trouble ; and then, when Laure went out of the room, I said—
“Well, my dear, have you had many visitors since I saw you last ? ”
“ A few acquaintances and Doctor Awdrey—that is all.”
Pnnnlp	0rigin3>fronn
3ig,llz™ by ^1 ^	 PUBLIC LI BRAR Y

She would not have said “ that is all ” if she had loved Dr. Awdrey.
“Mrs. Yeames, I suppose, has given you the benefit of a call ? ” said I.
“No; she had the dressmaker there. She sent to say I might visit her if I liked, but Laure has a kind of —of antipathy, you know, and I could not leave her alone. Dear little Laure ! She is haunted night and day with a dread of being taken away from me.”
“ A not unnatural dread, though a groundless one, I hope.”
“ Yes,” she said, and took a few stitches in silence. “ Of course Lynn did not mean what he said. We say things when we are worried and troubled that ought not to be taken seriously.”
“ That is Doctor Awdrey’s opinion,” said I sharply, suspecting his influence in this defence.
She flushed, and said quietly—
“ It is my opinion also.”
“ But it may not be Mr. Lynn Yeames’s opinion. What then?”
“ Then I should try to make it his opinion,” she replied, smiling archly.
I hold Thackeray’s opinion with regard to good
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women. Thackeray would have loved N urse Gertrude. I saw that she was prepared to martyr herself, to sink her pride, to forget Lynn’s brutality to her, in the belief that the cunning of a good woman is superior to the headstrong purpose of a man, and that, by her subtle charming, she could lead him her way. A woman, if she has experience and intelligence, learns early man’s weakness and her own strength.
“ Have you seen him or heard anything about him ?” I asked.
“No ; he has not come back from London. I am anxious about him. I fear he is ill. I am sure he must have been ill on Tuesday ; he was not himself was he ? His manner was so strange. He was never like that before.”
It seemed to me that if he were ill, the first thing he would do, being a selfish brute, would be to write and tell his sweetheart of his suffering. The moment a man of this kind feels not up to bullying point, he whines for sympathy. I know ’em. I thought it much more probable that Lynn had gone to London to spend some of his fortune in advance, and escape from the lugubrious condition of things at home whilst his uncle lay dead at Flexmore House.
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Of course I kept this belief to myself ; and promising to drop in again during the day, I left the house, and went directly to Mrs. Yeames’s villa.
There was an overpowering smell of crape—to me a most abominable stench—right out in the passage; and through an open door I caught sight of Mrs. Yeames and a dressmaker half buried in preparations for deep mourning.
I was shown into a sitting-room, as pretentiously genteel and chilling as Mrs. Yeames herself, and there I waited till it pleased the woman to come to me. She waved me to a chair, after seating herself, without giving me her hand, for which I was grateful, though hitherto she had allowed me to take the tips of her clammy fingers.
Her lofty air and patronizing smile showed that she participated in her precious son's belief with regard to the heritage.
“ I have called to see your son, Mr. Lynn, madam/’ said I.
“He is not hyali.” said she, with that peculiar pronunciation which your “ superiah ” person affects, and which to my ear is more ungrammatical and, being assumed, more vulgar and more offensive ten
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o

thousand times than a cockney cookmaid’s misapplication of the letter “ h ”—“ he is not hyah. He is in London, where he has met with an accident requiring medical treatment which confines him to his room.”
“ Can you give me his address ? * I asked. u I have business to transact with him.”
“No, I cannot give you his address. I have received a wiah from him, in which he begs me to act for him in all matters of a business nature until his return.”
* The funeral arrangements have to be considered,” I observed.
“ 1 should like a tomb; not an ordinary grave—a brick tomb.”
“ I do not know that 1 shall be justified in incurring that expence.”
“ That does not concern you, Mr. Keene. That is our personal affaiah. You will oblige me by leaving the arrangement of Mr. Flexmore’s obsequies entirely in my hands. We wish to spare no expense in marking our respect to our deceased relative.”
“ Very good, ma’am,” said I ; “ as you will.” And on my way home I called in on the mason who has
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fche monopoly of this business in his hands at Coney-ford, and gave him to understand that he had better make terms with Mrs. Yeames for cash down, as he might never get his money if he waited until she had heard Flexmore’s will read. He understood how matters lay, and, I believe, got his money in advance by making a reduction of thirty per cent. ; and thus Mrs. Yeames was let in for an outlay which she would never repay herself out of the slender legacy left her by my old friend.
About three days after this, a client who had just returned from a business journey to the south of France dropped in to have a chat with me, and amongst other things he said—
“ By the by, Keene, I crossed over with young Yeames.”
“ When ? ” I asked.
“ On the 15th—night service. He pretended not to see me, so I did not bother him. I know a man at such times as this doesn’t care for condolence and that sort of thing.”
“ He was going on to Paris, I suppose ? ” I ventured to suggest.
“ Oh, farther than that. I caught sight of him
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at the station; where the line branches off to Monaco.”
“ You are sure of your fact ?” I asked, though I had little doubt of it.
“ I am as sure it was he as I am that you are before me now.”
Now the 15th was the very day he had left Coney-ford for London. Was London not gay enough for him, that he must go on to Monaco for amusement ? One thing was certain : Mrs. Yeames, to have received a telegram from him, must have known his where* abouts, and could not give me his address in London simply because he was at the other end of Europe. Why had she told me that lie ? Because she did not wish it to be known that her son had gone to Monaco, lest it might be inferred that he had gone there for pleasure ? That was the conclusion I came to.
It never entered my head that he had got out of the country for prudential reasons, and that the cause of his precipitate flight was that little paper pellet which was lying quietly in my handy drawer. There are things which escape even the suspicion of a lawyer at times.
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CHAPTER XI.
THE MORTIFICATION OF MRS. YEAMES.
J^RS. YEAMES found time to quit her dressmakers, her crapes, bombazines, and the rest of it, in order to visit the two poor souls at Flexmore House and worry them.
First of all, she attacked Nurse Gertrude upon the subject of mourning.
“Is it possible that you have not yet begun your mourning ? ” she asked, looking around her with a sniff, as if scenting the air for the smell of crape.
“ Miss Clip is making our dresses; they are to be home to-morrow,” replied Miss Dalrymple.
“Very injudicious. I always have the dressmaker in the house. You know then that an inferiah article is not substituted for the material you have bought, and that none of it is kept back. Also you can
Original from NEWYORK 

be certain that good work is put in and no machining. The cost is very much less, too. What with lining and trimmings, and one thing and anothah, I fear these dresses will be a very heavy expense.,,
“ Not more than I can afford to pay, I hope,” said Miss Dairymple quietly.
“ I hope you have chosen a fashionable cut for my niece’s dresses. I should have liked them to be like Sir Willoughby Chough's little girls, or the Honourable Mrs. Blinker’s nieces. You must have noticed how very elegant and high class they are.”
“I do not think Laure imitated any one’s style.”
“ Surely you have not suffered that child to choose her own style ? ”
“ Yes; Laure has very good taste in dress, and the dresses are for her.”
“ She’ll be a perfect sight! ” said Mrs. Yeames emphatically, with a dab of her hand in the air. “ How very unfortunate! If I had only thought of it a little earlier. Deah, deah ! They’ll all have to be altered of course when she goes to boarding-school.”
“ But I am not going to boarding-school,” said little Laure desperately. “ I am going to stay always—

ever, ever with Nurse Gertrude. Mr. Keene says so.”
“ Mr. Keene knows nothing about it. Your guardian will settle such matters, and not Mr. Keene ! And little girls should speak when they are spoken to—not before. I’m afraid I shall have a great deal of trouble with you when you come to live with me.”
“ But I’m not going to live with you—never, never! ” exclaimed the child, screwing herself in terror against Nurse Gertrude, and holding her arm for protection.
“ We shall see about that,” retorted Mrs. Yeames, pursing up her lips and contracting her nostrils viciously. Then, turning to Nurse Gertrude, she said, “ Have you made any plans with regard to yourself, Miss Dalrymple ? Have you settled where you will go when you leave hyah ?”
“ No : it is impossible to settle anything definitely at present.”
u One thing there is which should certainly be done without delay. It ought to be intimated to the servants that their services will not be required after their month is up.” These were the same servants who had given warning during the brief
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term of Mrs. Yeames’s authority in the house, and who had one and all been re-engaged on her departure. “ The house will be given up of course. Perhaps you would like me to tell them they must go ?”
“ No ; I am to consider my position here unaltered, and no change in the routine is to be made until the will has been read, Mr. Keene says.”
“ Mr. Keene seems to be unduly interfering—to be
(T>
overstepping the bounds of his—ah !—function,”
o
said Mrs. Yeames tartly.	*
no
Whereupon little Laure, with the courage of desperation, declared I was a dear old man, and
c
wouldn’t let cook be sent away, or let any one be
05
made unhappy.
“ And you won’t, will you., dear Mr. Keene ? ”
^ °
said the child, imploringly, to me when she and
CD
a;	,	^
Nurse Gertrude had narrated this conversation to
00	LO
1	i CO
me. “ You’ll be just like the clever cat in Puss in
O Ol
Boots who got the ogre to turn from a lion into a
CM D
mouse and then gobbled it up, won’t you ?99
6	_c
“Yes, my dear,” said I; “before the week’s out,
' c ^
I promise you I will make that bouneeable party look very small indeed; and she shall be so completely
N 'gi □ '-O
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chawed up that you will never see anything more of her.”
The day of the funeral came—and a sad day it is in my memory, for even a lawyer cannot bury an old friend without a pang of regret for the past that can never be renewed: a bitter yearning for the hand and the voice and the eyes that never again one shall clasp, and listen to, and look into!
But we must live for to-morrow, and not for yesterday; and thus reflecting, I left my sentiment in the cemetery, and taking a good pinch of snuff to clear my faculties, I went back to Flexmore House, to get through my business there in a lawyer-like fashion.
I expected that Lynn Teames would be sufficiently well to come back for the reading of the will; but he was not. However Mrs. Yearn es was there with a telegram of regret from him (she had torn off the heading, but I found out from my young friend at the post-office that it came from Monaco), and herself prepared to stand as his representative; and a fine monument of respectability she was in her crape.
To her disgust I had up all the servants into the 9

room, indeed I had invited every one whose name was in the will. Dr. Awdrey was there, looking as if he were going to have his head cut off, and Miss Dalryraple, and little Laure.
When I took my place at the head of the table, the child came and put her arm through mine; but this would never do, so I led her back and placed her between Nurse Gertrude and Awdrey, and she was content to sit there, holding a hand of each, as being the friends she could best trust to after me.
Then I opened the will, and in a dead silence I began to read it clearly and slowly. You might have heard a pin drop. After the usual preamble, came the legacies to the servants, whom Mrs. Yeames would have packed off with a month's wages, and then began the sniffing and sighing and smothered exclamations of astonishment and pleasure as they learned that there was a £100 and a good suit of clothes to come to each of them out of the fortune of their kind old master. And when these were disposed of, I came to the Yeames* bequest.
“To Mrs. Anna' Maria Yeames, widow of my brother, Joseph Flexmore, I give and bequeath the sum of five pounds/’
Original from NEWY0RK 

I looked at her over the top of my glasses as I read this. She folded her arms, closed her eyes, and assumed a look of injured dignity. I would have given as much as this bequest to have been able to look round and see how the servants (who hated her cordially) managed to conceal their feelings. However I contented myself with reading on —
“ To my nephew, Lynn Yeames stepson of the aforesaid Joseph Flexmore”—here I turned over the page, and glancing at Anna Maria found her eyes open, and her expression indicative of assured triumph and expectancy—“ I give and bequeath the sum of fifty pounds and my glass case of stuffed birds.”
Lowering the will and looking over my glasses I said to Mrs. Yeames Flexmore—
“ As your son is not here, I will apprise him by letter of this bequest.”
‘‘That is not all, I am sure. Read on, if you please,” said the lady, with that peculiar dabbing of her hand in the air to which I have before referred.
I bowed, and proceeded to read out in full the clause in which Flexmore constituted John Howard
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Awdrey, M.D., &c., sole guardian of his beloved daughter, Laure Constance Flexmore, and in recognition and consideration of his service in the capacity of guardian and trustee, bequeathed to him the annual interest on such capital as remained after the payment of the foregoing aforesaid legacies, life annuity to myself of one hundred pounds, and all outstanding debts until the said beloved Laure Constance Flexmore should attain the age of twenty-one, when the whole estate, would revert to her.
I paused here, and again looked over my glasses at Mrs. Yeames.
The woman had risen to her feet; she was white with passion. I saw she wished to speak, and waited. Her lips twitched convulsively; it was some moments before she could articulate.
“ Do—do—do I understand,” she faltered, “ that he has left nothing to my son but fifty pounds ?*
“ And a glass case of stuffed birds; that is all,” I said.
“ All the property, in fact, goes to Dr. Awdrey ? ”

“ The bulk of the property goes to Dr. Awdrey, in trust for Laure Constance Flexmore, who inherits when she is twenty-one years of age. Until that time Dr. Awdrey will receive from me annual payment of all interest accruing from the estate in payment of service rendered as guardian of the child. There is a further clause providing for the appointment of a new guardian in the event of Dr. Awdrey1s death, and the reversion of the whole estate to Dr. Awdrey in case of the child dying before coming of age, and which I will now proceed to read.”
“ Don't trouble yourself—I don't wish to hear it! ” screamed rather than said Mrs. Yeames.
“ Madam,” said I, “ I am here to read this will not solely for your pleasure.”
“ Let me look at the signature of that will,” she cried, crossing quickly.
“ There is the signature, duly witnessed,” I said, showing it; “ and the date you see is the 4th September of last year.”
“ Do you mean to tell me that this is the will he made last year ? ” she exclaimed.
“ I do; madam. Have you any reason to doubt it ? ”

THAT WILL SHALL BE CONTESTED.
“ I have,” she said, and then stopped short. For how could she explain the means by which her
son had possessed himself with the knowledge of
the affair ? She would have liked to proclaim me
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a scoundrel and a forger, as I believe she felt convinced that I was, but she had just strength enough to contain her passion.
“ That will shall be contested,” she said. “ I will telegraph at once to my son. We shall put this into the hands of a trustworthy solicitor.”
“That is the very best thing you can possibly do,” said I.
She clenched her teeth, and shook her head at me with such fury in her face as I hope never again to see disfiguring the face of a fellow-creature; and then she turned her back on us and marched out of the room with as much dignity as she could command.

CHAPTER XII.
THE DINGLE COTTAGE
DR. AW DREY walked home with me from Flex-more House.
“Well,” said I, when we had got a hundred yards on our way, “what do you think of Mrs. Yeames now ? ”
“I cannot say I ever liked that woman, but I never thought she had such a violent temper. One might make excuses for her—for an}T one indeed who puts such an extravagant value upon money,” said he, in a tone of commiseration which seemed to me utterly misplaced.
“At any rate” said I, “you’ll agree that it’s a mercy I was too late with that precious will, which would have handed over little Laure to the tender mercies of such a woman. Why, the poor child would have been brought up in the same money-

worship—if she hadn’t been killed by ill-treatment, which is the more likely.”
“Yes; it could not be good for any child to be under the influence of such a woman. But Lynn, not she, was to have been Laure’s guardian.”
“ Oh, they are a pair—like mother, like son,” said I impatiently.
“ That is not true. Lynn would have done what is right by the child.”
“That’s not true, either,” said I. “You admit it would be ill for any child to be under that woman’s influence. Well, how about Lynn, whom she has brought up ? ”
“ His strength of character has happily saved him. He himself has frequently complained to me of the tendency of modem society to a vulgar adoration of money.”
“Hypocrite!” I exclaimed petulantly; “that’s what he is, and you’re a fool to be cheated by him. I tell you he would have handed the child over to his mother, and occupied himself solely with making ducks and drakes of the money. You’ll see what sort of fellow he is before long. He’ll show the same cloven hoof that his mother has been kicking up for
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our observation to-day when he finds all his little air-castles blown over. You’ll see.”
“We shall,” said he; “and now let us talk upon something we can agree upon.”
“ Talk away,” said I, vexed beyond measure by his obstinate credulity.
There was silence for a few minutes; then he said—
“ Can you give me an idea about how much the estate will bring in ? ”
“Yes,” said I; “I’ve reckoned it out. You may safely depend on an annual income of two thousand pounds for the next nine years. If you take my advice, you’ll live up to about seven hundred—that will keep you comfortably—and put by the rest as capital to draw upon after Laure comes of age.”
He made no reply to this, but after walking a few yards in silence, he said—
“I don’t think Miss Dalrymple wishes to leave Laure. I should be very sorry if she did.”
“ Oh, that’s all right,” said I. “ She won’t leave the youngster—you may depend on that.”
“ I’m very fond of children—especially fond of that dear little one; but, of course, I couldn’t bring her up

properly myself. It would be cruelty to the child to try. ”
“Of course you couldn’t do it—alone,” I said pointedly.
He shirked a direct reply to this hint, and once more there was a pause.
“ That old house is not suitable for them,” he said presently; “ it’s heavy and dull.”
“ Just what I have been thinking. Sell it, Awdrey; sell it. I’ll soon fijid a buyer; and I know of the very place to suit you. What do you think of the Dingle ? ”
“ That is a pretty little house: gay, and healthily situated. I like that fine wood at the back, and it has a good aspect. If that would suit them-----”
“ I’ll take them to see it to-morrow. They could go in at once.”
“ I wish you would arrange that. At the same time you would greatly oblige me by making an agreement with Miss Dalrymple respecting a permanent engagement. You see, virtually, she will be Laure’s guardian.”
“ Co-guardian with you ; that’s what old Flexmore intended when he made the will.”

“ I know; but the arrangement he had in view has been rendered impossible by later events.”
“ Pooh, pooh! Stuff and nonsense ! ” I exclaimed. “ You‘11 marry that girl. Not at once, of course; but in about six months from now. That's a certain thing.”
He laughed; but his laugh was anything but a gay one.
“ Lynn won't have her now he has no money,” I continued, “and she has nothing to give him but herself. And what’s to prevent you stepping in and making her your wife ? ”
Again he laughed, but it was less pleasant than before; and with a sudden transition to grave anger he turned upon me.
“Whatever you may think of my friend Lynn," said he, “you must, at least, give Miss Dalrymple credit for loyalty and honour. You seem to think that every one is mercenary and heartless: that Lynn would abandon her because she is poor, and that she would accept me because I am rich. You do them both injustice. She is no poorer now than she would have been if Lynn had inherited this two thousand a year, and if he offered her marriage
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when he expected to be rich, it would be only honest to offer to release her, finding he is poor. But will she release him for that reason ? No! no I no ! She will love him the more for being poor. And even were your insinuations verified—if he himself cast her off—do you think she would have so little selfrespect that she could consent to bestow the hand rejected by another upon the first who asked her for it ? No, I say—a thousand times no ! ”
“ Well,” said I, “ if all the world had such fine sentiments and delicate susceptibilities as you possess, hang me if I see how marriages would be made.”
With all my respect for Miss Dairymple, 1 gave her credit for having a good deal more worldly wisdom than this Quixotish doctor. I felt pretty sure in my own mind that she had accepted Lynn as much from regard to Laure’s interests as to a romantic passion. However I did not feel at all comfortable about the future ; for, though I foresaw the course Lynn would inevitably take, I was anything but confident about Awdrey. You can place no dependence on a man of delicate feeling. He’s likely at any moment to upset the very best schemes
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a practical man ever devised. And this was my belief when I parted from the doctor.
The next day happened to be particularly bright and cheerful, so I engaged an open fly and drove to Flexmore House.
The moment Laure heard I had come to take them for a drive, she flew off to get her things; and, taking advantage of her absence, I asked Miss Dalrymple if she had seen anything more of Mrs Yeames or heard from Lynn. She replied in the negative to both questions, the colour mounting to her cheeks through having to acknowlege Lynn’s neglect.
“ Well, my dear,” said I, “ no news is good news where such people are concerned; and I dare say we shall get on very well if we never hear any more of them.”
She inclined her head slightly and with a certain dignity that seemed to say, “ You are perfectly free to form what opinions you please,” and left the room. I know she was vexed, but whether with me, with Lynn, with herself, or all three, I leave psychological readers to settle for themselves.
The Dingle lies about two miles from Coney ford.
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It is a pleasant drive ; we had plenty of rugs to keep our legs warm, and the air was just fresh enough to redden the tip of Laure’s little nose and make her eyes sparkle. As for Nurse Gertrude, the pleasure of motion and breathing a brisk atmosphere quickly chased every sign of vexation from her pretty face, and the bright sunlight that fell upon it seemed reflected there in her smile. She had the courage and hope of right-thinking and right-doing people, and though I have frequently seen her brows crease and a quick flash in her eyes, those signs of anger or impatience ever faded quickly away.
I beckoned to Laure, and when she bent over to hear the secret communication which children so delight to make and receive, I whispered— “ Was the ogre chawed up ? ”
She nodded, laughing; then she asked with the same secrecy—“ But what is to be done with me ? Am I going to live with Doctor Awdrey ? ”
“ No; he won’t have you. He’s afraid you’ll be dipping your fingers into his bottle of leeches.”
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She thought this sally good enough to repeat aloud to Miss Dalrymple.
" As you certainly would,” I added, “ if you had not Nurse Gertrude to keep you out of mischief.”
There was no sign in her face that she had ever contemplated being asked to live under his roof, so the hope that led me to make the suggestion was nipped.
I bade the driver stop when we came to the bridge on the little stream that runs through the Dingle; and a pretty sight it was to see the water scampering down amongst the rocks in its course, with a tangle of dry reeds and brambles on either side, and here and there a tuft of sedge covered with ice glittering and sparkling in the sun as it bent before the current, the whole framed in with the overarching boughs of sturdy oak and lithe hazel.
There was a side door to the garden near the bridge, so I proposed that we should go in and see what it was like, as I had, by a curious accident, the keys in my pocket.
We went in, and followed for a little distance the course, of the stream, where Miss Dalrymple.
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who had a healthy love of nature and delight in discovering her treasures, pointed out where there surely would be primroses in th%e spring, and perhaps snowdrops and daffodils; and thence we wound our way up and up through the pine-woods, in whose shade the white rime still lay on the brown needles, until at length we came to the cottage standing on the hillside, surrounded with a verandah, which in summer, Miss Dalrymple said, must be festooned with pretty creepers, for there were the stems all carefully cased up in straw. Standing there, we looked over a lawn, and the Dingle below, and a furze-covered stretch of down, where a quick eye even now detected some yellow bloom; and beyond that through the Coombe, a triangular patch of blue sea fading away at the horizon into the pink mist that blended it with the blue sky above.
“Oh, how lovelyV* cried little Laure; but Miss Dalrymple could say nothing, but stood there pressing the child’s hand, and gazing upon the scene with unspeakable delight.
“ One of these keys ought to fit the front door; let us go in and see what the house is like,” said 1.
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And in we went; and Laure threw open the shutters and let in the sunlight, bursting into exclamations of delight at every instant over the pretty parquet flooring, the light wall-paper, the gilding and colouring of the doors, the cosiness, and brightness, and cheerfulness of everything.
“ It’s pretty enough for grown-up dolls to live in,” she declared.
“ It’s pretty enough for something better than dolls,” said I. “ How should you like to live in it ? ”
“All alone ? ” she asked, with a sudden qualm.
" No ; with the cook in the kitchen, and Mary, and Jane, and Elizabeth, and the boy Bob, and Nurse Gertrude as well, if she could only be coaxed into staying with you ”
The child caught hold of her dear friend’s hand, and • then looked at me doubtingly, as if she could scarcely believe such happiness possible.
“ But it won’t do,” I continued, “ unless there’s a place for cocks, and hens, and ducks, and a pony and chaise. Now, take these keys, and see if you can find them anywhere.”
Off she rushed, and then, being alone with Miss Dalrymple, I said—“ Awdrey wants you to live here
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with little Laure. I know there’s a house for the gardener at the back, so you would not feel without protection. He wishes you to regard it as a permanent engagement, and has left it to me to arrange about terms, being, of course, too delicate to mention such a subject himself.”
“ I shall be only too happy to accept,” she said at once.
“ Good ! ” thought I. u She sees through Mr. Lynn, though the doctor may be blind, and has already decided that she shall not be his wife.”
“ I could not expect anything better,” she added, in a sadder tone, yet firmly. “ Doctor Awdrey is very, very good.”
“ Yes,” I said ; “Awdrey is the best man I know —if it wasn’t for his abominable delicacy.”
Miss Dalrymple smiled.
“With regard to terms now, what shall we do about that ? ”
“Anything you like,” she replied, still smiling. “ I have no “ abominable delicacy. * ”
“Very well,” said I. “ We may as well continue the old terms, which seem to me quite liberal enough. All expenses will be paid—I should like you to keep

an account, and let me have it a week before each quarter day—and over and above I shall pay you the salary of one hundred pounds as hitherto.”
She said that would meet her requirements amply, and I promised to draw up a memorandum of agreement, to be signed by Awdrey and her the next day. Just then Laure came rushing in breathless to say there was the dearest place for fowls and ducks, and the sweetest stable for two ponies, and the loveliest coach-house, with a darling little chaise in it already.
u Very well, then,” said I. “Then the sooner you come and live here the better ”


closed eyes, with Lis lips firmly set, and his brows knitted as though he were saying to himself, “You confounded old vagabond 1 ”
“ Supposing I am prepared to swear that this is not Flexmore's last will”
“ In that case I might be compelled to prove that it is.”
“ How would you do that ?”
It was useless to complicate matters, so I said—
“ In the first place, there are the witnesses to the signature, and then there is Doctor Awdrey, whose evidence I could bring—if any evidence were required”
“ Doctor Awdrey ! ” he exclaimed. “ Did he know that this will existed ? ”
“ Certainly he did. It was in consequence of that knowledge that he induced the late Mr. Flexmore to decide upon making that second will, which I was prevented from getting duly signed.”
“ Show me that second will,” he said, in a tone of authority.
“ It is destroyed. If it were not, I do not think I should show it to you. If it were in your possession even, and you could prove that Flexmore intended to

sign it, there could be no possible change in the result. There is no revoking the first will.”
He nodded, still looking at me steadfastly with his half-closed eyes, his brows knitted, and his lips set. I suppose he thought to intimidate me. He didn’t succeed.
“ Now tell me,” said he presently, “ why you led me to suppose that this first will was antagonistic to me, and the second favourable. Tell me that.”
“ Because,” said I, “ it is a professional rule to conceal one’s clients’ affairs from those who seek to discover them, and because I saw no harm to my client in allowing you to form any conclusion you pleased, and by whatever means you chose.”
That made him wince.
“ That is the rule/’ I continued, “ as regards a lawyer and his client. But there professional delicacy ends. If a lawyer is acquainted with the secret of a person not his client, he may conceal it or publish it as circumstances direct.”
That completely disconcerted him—unduly, as it seemed to me then, for I was only thinking of the mean and underhand manner in which he had sought to learn Flexmore’s testamentary intentions. It
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never entered my head—I wish it had—that his anxiety related to that paper pellet he had lost.
He looked at me, then at the table, as he flicked it with his riding-whip ; then at me again ; finally, as if uncertain as to the extent of my meaning, and to prove it, he said—“ Supposing I gave you a thundering good horse-whipping, as you deserve, what would you do ? ”
“ Bring an action for damages like a shot,” said I.
He drew a long breath, and there was a visible sign of relief in his expression.
“ But,” I added, “ I fancy you have lost enough over this affair, what with the expense your mother has taken upon herself, and one thing with another, to forego an expensive luxury of that kind.”
“ You’re wanted, if you please, sir,” said my servant, coming to the door.
I glanced round to see that there was nothing Mr. Lynn could pry into or take away during my absence, and seeing all safe, I left him.
In my sitting-room I found Doctor Awdrey waiting to see me.
“ I saw Lynn’s horse outside, and I dropped in to know if he were here,” said he.

“ Yes; he is in my office. We have been having a little chat,” said I.
“ I should like to see him before he goes, if you don’t mind my waiting here.”
“ Go in and see him at once,” said I. “I have done with him.”
He thanked me, and went into the office ; while I slipped into my dining-room, which, as I have said, is divided from the office by a half-glazed door, that intercepts sound so slightly that what takes place in one room is audible in the other.
If any one thinks it is wrong to play at eavesdropping—and a good many sensitive people do think so— let them remember that I am only a lawyer. I have no compunction to listening in a case of this kind.
They had got through their first greeting when I reached the house, but, as I saw through the old green taffety curtains, they still held each other by the hand.
“A mere sprain ; that’s all. Painful enough at tirst ; just enough to keep me from running about, you know,” Lynn was saying, in his bluff, open tone.
“ Why on earth didn’t you write a word or two to us ? ” asked Awdrey,
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“ Oh, I didn’t want to make a fuss about a trifle— especially at such a time—and you know what women are when there’s anything the matter with a fellow ? ” Lynn replied, throwing himself in a chair.
" Your silence made us think that the accident was not a trifle,” Awdrey said, half seating himself on the table and facing his friend.
“ I see now that I was to blame. I’m sorry for it. That’s all I can say, my dear fellow.”
“ I am sorry also. It must have troubled Miss Dalrymple : it would have offended an ordinary girl. Old Keene here doesn’t like you—the most extraordinary prejudice I have ever known ; I warrant he has put a bad construction on it, and done his utmost to set her against you. Indeed it taxed my ingenuity to find excuses for your neglect.”
Lynn toyed with his riding-whip in silence for a few minutes (during which his quick brain had conceived a plausible means of escape), and then he said—
“ Awdrey, old fellow, I must tell you all. I can’t keep a secret—at any rate, from you. I purposely stayed away—I was purposely silent.”
“ Why ? Let us have the whole matter out from beginning to end.”

“ Some months ago this old rascal here, Keene—for what purpose I cannot imagine—led me to believe that I was heir to Flexmore’s fortune.”
“He acknowledged as much to me.”
“ Oh, he did ! I'm glad of it. Well, in the belief that I should before long be in a decent position to maintain a wife, I sought to win Gertrude—Miss Dalrymple. Then, on the day of Flex more's death I discovered the truth—that I had nothing to expect from him.”
The barefaced effrontery of this lie nearly took my breath away.
“I had been living rather extravagantly,” continued Lynn—“beyond my means, in fact—relying on being able to recoup myself sooner or later, and then suddenly I realized that I was thrown upon my own resources, in debt, and incapable of providing the woman I loved with the home I had absolutely offered her a few days before. Of course I am to blame—I know that. I ought to have been prudent; I ought not to have counted upon Flexmore's generosity ; I ought not to have offered my hand before I was assured beyond the possibility of doubt that I had enough to marry upon. But you know what I am—a confounded headstrong, impulsive, thought-

less, reckless, thriftless, unhappy wretch ! ” His voice faltered, he covered his face with his hands, rose abruptly, stamping with impatience at his own weakness, and turned in silence to the window.
It was not a bad piece of acting; it took Awdrey in completely. He rose, went to the window, and, slipping his hand through the other’s arm, said—
“ There’s nothing unpardonable in that, Lynn— nothing that she will not readily forgive.”
“I know it, Awdrey, and that’s the worst part about it. I must break off the engagement, but I know not how with such a generous girl as that. I know what she will say when I tell her I am a beggar; she will say, ‘No matter, I can wait till you are rich.’ Wait—good heavens! I am in debt now— a penniless beggar I must remain. I haven’t the ability to gain fifty pounds a year, and never shall have. No; it must be broken off. I said that from the first. Do you know, I forced myself to affront her, that she might throw me over—I pretended a brutally cruel feeling towards dear little Laure, poor child ! ” (this with a tremor in his voice, the knave 1) “ that Gertrude might think me unfeeling. I went off to London without a word of farewell, I refrained
*

from writing one kind word —all with the same purpose. Don’t you see now ? ”
“Yes; but all that must be made clear to her,” said Awdrey slowly.
“ Made clear to her ? Is that the way to break off this unfortunate engagement ? ”
“No; but there is no necessity to break the engagement ? ”
“ What do you mean ? Surely you wouldn’t have me ask her to wait till I grow rich I Rich ! I, who never did a decent day’s work in my life.”
“ No ; you will not ask her that. She did not inquire whether you were rich or poor when she consented to be your wife; she will not refuse you now for any reason of that kind. You must explain your silence, and ask her to marry you at once. Listen to me, Lynn—I am not advising without reason. Flex-more wished you to be the guardian with Miss Dal-rymple of little Laure, and to take the interest of the money in trust for her until she came of age. By an accident that wish was prevented from being legally carried out; but. virtually, you are as much entitled to the money as though the accident had not happened. Miss Dalrymple has consented to take care -of the child permanently—relieving me of a certain

part of my duty. Legally I shall remain her guardian, and shall in fact exercise my function whenever a question arises respecting her welfare, but virtually she is Miss Dairy mple’s ward, and her services must be paid for. I shall settle upon her all that is paid me as interest arising from Flexmore’s bequest/’
“ But, my dear fellow, you are robbing yourself— you are carrying generosity beyond all the bounds of reason ! ” exclaimed Lynn.
“No, I am doing nothing of the kind. I shall simply be carrying out Flexmore’s intentions, and I shall remain as rich as I have been. Whether you marry Miss Dalrymple or not, I shall settle the money on her. But now you know that you have no excuse for breaking off the engagement/’
Did you ever read of heroism to beat this ? A man relinquishing fortune, and the fair chance of making the girl he loved his wife, from chivalrous consideration of that girl’s happiness, and a conscientious feeling of duty!
Those sponsors made a pretty good forecast at his character and disposition when they gave him the name of John Howard; for I doubt if the great philanthropist was ever more loving to the good, more generous to the erring, or kinder to the weak.

CHAPTER XIV.
I TELL A STORY WITH A MORAL.
I should like to know
what
would
you
have done, seeing
an honest man—
so
honest as to be de
void of
suspicion
—bamboozled
and
cheated by a lvin^
»'	Di
subtle rascal on the
other side of a half-
glazed door with a
taffety blind. If you are an ordinary person, with an
ordinary love of truth and an ordinary hatred of deceit*
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ril be bound you would have flung open that door and told simple Dr. Awdrey that Lynn Yeames was a liar and a cheat, and proclaimed all you knew about him and his motives; but if you are like me, a wily old lawyer, you would have done nothing of the kind. For Dr. Awdrey believed that my prejudice against Lynn Yeames amounted to a mania; I had no proof whatever to substantiate a charge against him, and in the absence of proof Dr. Awdrey would be fully justified in believing a trusted friend in preference to a biased lawyer. How could I prove that he knew nothing about the will before his mother telegraphed to him after the reading of it ? I could only declare that he did not know, he could declare that he did. He had ingenuity to invent reasons as good for his knowing the fact as those I could produce to show that he was ignorant of the real truth. In a case of hard swearing the judge must lean towards the side which seems least capable of duplicity, and it would go hard with the lawver in such a case.
These conditions decided me to leave the halfglazed door as it was, and to seek some more than ordinary means of discomfiting an extraordinary rascal.

I felt sure of this—that Dr. Awdrey would insist upon Lynn going at once and telling his story to his
I could do was to go Flexmore House beforehand and prevent Mr. Lynn deceiving Miss Dalrymple as he had deceived Dr. Awdrey.
“ Mrs. Guttridgesaid I to my housekeeper, who is a careful woman, and delivers messages correctly, t I can't wait any longer; I don't wish to disturb Dr. Awdrey and his friend, who seem to be having a nice little chat. If they ask for me you will say that I had an appointment to keep, but that I shall be at home from nine till twelve to-morrow morning."
With that I trotted off to Flexmore House as fast as my legs would carry me; but there was plenty of time to think on the way and I had plenty to think about.
How was I to warn Miss Dalrymple ? To tell her bluntly that her lover was a scamp would not do. Her love would only strengthen in defending him against his accuser. She had already given me proof of this.
But did she still love him ? Had she ever really loved him ? I was inclined to answer no to both
sweetheart; and it seemed to me that the best thing

questions. I believed that as yet she had really loved no one. Yet I was not sufficiently sure to feel that I could with safety speak openly on the subject. And that is why I made up a fairy story—I could never have told it without premeditation—as I trotted on; yes, a fairy story—a pretty occupation for a lawyer, you will say.
They saw me, Nurse Gertrude and little Laure, from the drawing-room window as I came up the gravel path, and the child darted off to open the door, and both welcomed me with smiles on the threshold.
“ We've been hoping you would come, and expecting you all the afternoon,” said Laure. “We want to know when we are to pack up, and what to pack/'
“ I’ll tell you all about that as soon as I've warmed myself by the fire,” said I. “And warm myself I must, for I'm as cold as the ‘ Lonely Duckling' in the fairy story.”
You see I lost no time in leading up to my subject.
“ You mean the * Ugly Duckling'—I’ve read about it in Hans Andersen’s----”
“ No; I mean the ‘Lonely Duckling,' not the / Ugly Duckling,'” said L

“I don't know that story. You shall tell it to me while you are warming yourself.”
“So I will,” said I, readily, for that was my purpose.
And after talking to Miss Dalrymple about the weather I took the arm-chair Laure had drawn in front of the fire, and rubbing my hands I pretended to be vastly comforted by the warmth—though, to tell the truth, I was not a bit cold after my quick trot.
Nurse Gertrude seated herself at the chimney side, and Laure nestled against her shoulder, and a very pretty group they made in the twilight, with the glow of the fire upon their faces and hands.
“Tell me about that lonely duckling now,” said the child; “ this is just the time for a story.”
“ Yes,” said I, “ there couldn't be a better time for it. Well, this duckling was a poor, miserable, halffledged, helpless little thing, out alone on a common, and it kept standing on tiptoe, flapping its little wings and crying * quack, quack,' in the most piteous manner possible, for she was very hungry and very cold. I must tell you it was a little duckling, and not a drakling, which accounts for her being particu-
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larly helpless and miserable in these circumstances. But it was no use her standing on tiptoe, for it did not enable her to see farther than the end of her beak—ducklings being by nature short-sighted— and it was no use flapping her wings, for they were not strong enough to fly with, and there was no one near to hear her cry ‘quack, quack/ and take pity on her. So she waddled on a little further until she ran smack up against a cocoanut, who was too intent upon business to get out of her way.”
“ What was the cocoanut doing ? ” asked Laure
“Nothing; but he thought he was doing a good deal. That’s the way with cocoanuts
“‘I beg your pardon, sir/ said the little duckling, humbly, ‘ I’m very cold and hungry; could you give me something to eat, and put me under your wing for the ni^ht?’
“Now, the cocoanut was not a bad sort of fellow though he’d worked himself bald, and was terribly hard and dry outside. Some people thought he was like that all through, and there was nothing in him; but thev were mistaken, for there was some milk inside him, and that was the milk of human kindness; so he replied—
*
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“ ‘ I'm very sorry, my dear, but I have moulted all my feathers, and I have so much business on hand that I can't spare time to look for food. However, if you go on a little further you'll find a sausage who'll help you, for he's full of goodness, great fat lumps of goodness, and he's very soft, and if he can't sit on you himself he will never rest till he's found some one who will/
“ Then the little duckling waddled on more hopefully than before till she ran against the sausage, who was standing on end dreaming with delight that he was frizzling in a frying-pan for somebody's benefit. He was ready to burst with goodness, and when he felt the duckling's beak strike him in the middle he thought it was the cook running a fork into him, and he spluttered in his sleep, ‘Turn me over, and brown me on the other side.' With that he awoke, and, seeing the duckling, he pulled himself up straight in his skin and begged her to tell him if there was anything in the world he could do for her. The duckling told him what she wanted and the sausage gave a great sigh, because he felt he was too big for the duckling to swallow whole, and he hadn’t the power to cut himself up in
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bits, though he was ready to sacrifice himself for anybody/*
“ What a stupid old sausage he was,” said Laure.
"That's what the cocoanut thought; but he was so hard that he couldn't be expected to sympathize greatly with anything soft. However, the sausage was of some use, for he called a guinea-hen, who was only a shade less soft than himself, and very warm under her feathers. She undertook to take care of the duckling at once, and soon scratched and picked up a supper for her, after which she tucked the little duckling under her wing and watched over it with open eyes all night. Then in the morning she plumed the little thing's feathers, and took her for a walk in the sun, which had such a beneficial effect on her that she looked quite a nice little creature^ and the hen was as proud of her as if she had been her own chick. As for the little duckling, now that she was warm and dry and well cared for, she was quite content, and resolved she would never, never stray away from the kind guinea-hen.”
44 That is not all, is it ? ” cried Laure, at this juncture.
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“ Oh, dear no I We haven’t come to the fox yet,” said I.
“ There was a fox then, eh ? Oh, I don’t like him ”
* Nor do I. What is worse, there were two of them —an old vixen fox, and a young dog-fox” Miss Dalrymple looked into the fire gravely.
“It was the vixen who first found them out,” I continued. “ She was going over the downs one morning, as lean and hungry as could he, when she suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. ‘I smell duckling/ said she; and then, creeping on a little further, she licked her skinny chops, and said, ‘I smell guinea-fowl/ So she crawled on till she spied the two basking in the sun, as happy and unsuspecting as the old sausage hard by. But there stood the cocoanut, and the old vixen didn’t like the look of him. She couldn’t make him out at all, because cocoa-nuts are not often seen on the downs. So she slinked back to her hole, where the young dog-fox was yawning the top of his head off.
“ ‘ Don’t do that, you’ll disfigure your pretty face/ said the old vixen.
“‘I’ve got nothing else to do/ said the young dog-fox.

cc f 111 tell you what you can do/ said the old vixen.
* There’s a guinea fowl and a young duckling on the downs; go and entice them home here, and we’ll pick their bones together: there’s a sausage also —you might bring him home too, though I don’t know whether he’s very digestible; but, whatever you do, be careful of that brown thing like an overgrown egg, for I’m half afraid he’s a gin in disguise, or perhaps a new kind of fox-hound.’ She alluded to the cocoanut. ‘You’ll have to be very careful and exceedingly cunning/ added th'e old vixen, in conclusion.
“The young dog-fox promised to be as sly as possible, and the vixen suffered him to go alone, for she had the greatest confidence in his ability as a fox. So off went the dog-fox, and when he came in sight of the guinea-hen, he put on the most innocent air in the world. He would have liked to pounce on the pair then and there, but he remembered what his mother had said about the new breed of fox-hound, and liked the look of the cocoanut no better than she did. Besides, he was not quite sure that the hen and duckling were real; they might only be put there as a bait to lure him into a trap.

‘ However/ thought he, ‘ if I can only get them away from this place, we’ll soon see whether they’re real or not by the cracking of their bones/ He took a roundabout way, and coming up to them, grinned from ear to ear as he said ‘Good morning.’
“ At the sight of his teeth the little duckling ran under the guinea-hen who bristled up her feathers, and looked as if she would call on the cocoanut for assistance.
“ ‘ Don’t be alarmed,’ said the dog-fox, blandly, ‘ my intentions are strictly honourable. I only came to have a little rational conversation. I know I’m a fox, but I assure you I’m not foxy. My exterior may be unprepossessing, but I’m only a fox superficially, indeed. I think of turning myself inside out to show that I’m more like a turtle dove than anything else. What do you find to eat here ? ’
“‘Not ducklings,’ retorted the guinea-hen, pointedly.
“ ‘Well, I’m glad of that. I hate eating duckling, other foxes are partial to them: even my mother who is a kind-hearted old vixen, might eat duckling at a pinch. I own that in my early days, when I knew no better, I did nibble a little bit of one myself. But I’ve grown out of that, being only a
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fox externally. I should like to live on barley and soaked bread, and stuff of that kind. One sees what a beneficial effect upon the mind such diet has. I quite believe that after I had got through a peck of barley and a quartern loaf, I should be quite a guinea-fowl/	.
“ ‘ Do you, indeed ? ’ said the guinea-hen, who was highly flattered by this compliment.
“ ‘ Oh, upon my word, I’m sure of it,’ replied the dog-fox; ‘ask my friend the sausage here what he thinks on the subject/
“ Now, the sausage, who would believe an addled egg to be good until it was broken, replied: ‘ I should be very sorry to say that a fox could not become a guinea-fowl if his heart is good; and if this gentleman says that his heart is good, it would be very wrong of us to treat him as if his heart were bad. His manner is certainly more fowl than fox/
‘ “ Oh ; I should be a perfect fowl if I could only fly, and I’ve not the slightest doubt I could learn the art in a brace of shakes, if you would only give me a few lessons/ said the dog-fox, with the sweetest bow to the guinea-hen. The guinea-hen was more pleased than ever with this testimony to
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her influence. She thought he must be good to say such nice things, especially as the sausage believed in him quite as much as she did.
“ * Won't you come for a walk with me, and give me a lesson ? * asked the dog-fox, seeing her smile ‘you can bring your little duckling with you.'”
“ But she didu't go, did she ? ” asked Laure in turn. “You'll see presently,” said I. “The guinea-hen was much excited, but she was too prudent to go at once. However, she promised she would think it over, and let the dog-fox know next day. Whereupon, the dog-fox, not to alarm her by seeming too anxious, made a most polite bow, and went off, trying to look as much like a guinea-fowl as possible. Now he was just passing the cocoanut when he heard a voice say—
“‘Mind the bones!’
“ He looked round in surprise, and seeing nothing but the cocoanut, he said—
“‘I beg your pardon, did you speak?*
“‘Yes/ replied the cocoanut. ‘Mind the bones don't stick in your throat and choke you.'
“‘What bones?' asked the dog-fox, astonished. “‘The fish bones, to be sure,' said the cocoanut.
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“4 What fish bones ?’ asked the bewildered dog-fox.
“ ‘ Why, the bones of that sprat that the penny hen is sitting on/ replied the other.
“ ‘ Sprat! Penny hen ! ’ exclaimed the dog-fox.
* Upon my word, I don’t understand you/
“‘That’s not surprising/ retorted the cocoanut; for you’re such a fool you’ve mistaken a sprat for a duckling and a penny hen for a guinea-hen. That’s the way with you clever foxes, you’re always getting into some trap or other/
“ Off went the dog-fox as fast as he could trot. On the road he encountered the old vixen. ‘ You’re a clever old dear, you are ! ’ he cried angrily, ‘ to send me after a guinea-hen and a duckling, when there’s nothing there but a sprat and a penny hen/
“ And away he pelted to seek something more toothsome, and forget as quickly as possible all about poor guinea-hen who was flattering herself with all sorts of pleasant visions with regard to the dog-fox she might transform into a guinea-fowl.”
“ Ah, that was a good thing,” said Laure, clapping her hands. “That was a nice old cocoanut—very clever too, I think, don’t you ? ”

“Oh, I have the highest opinion of his ability/’ I replied.
“Well, as soon as the dog-fox was gone, the old vixen started off to see what all this meant; and it was not long before she discovered the real state of the case, for there was the guinea-hen looking a little anxious and disappointed to be sure, but a real guinea-hen for all that, and not a penny hen; and as for the duckling she was fatter and better-looking than ever. The only difference to be seen was in the condition of the sausage; he looked flabbier and paler than before, and I’ll tell you how that came about. He was so anxious that the duckling should get fat, and that the guinea-hen should have no trouble to seek food for her, that he was shaking himself out of his skin that she might have plenty to eat.”	*
“ Oh. that stupid sausage—I’ve no patience with him ! ” said Laure.
“No, more have I, my dear,” I said. “But it pleased the old vixen mightily, for she saw that there would be a better picking than ever on the duckling. So away she scampered with her nose well out,
sniffing the air till she got the scent (and a very 12

nasty scent it was, too!) of master dog-fox, who was prowling round a yard in which there were dozens of fine fat geese.
“ ‘ Come away from there/ cried the old vixen, ‘you are only wasting your time and losing an opportunity that does not often present itself. I’m surprised at you, a dog-fox, allowingyourself to be cheated by a cocoanut; but those foxes who ate readiest to deceive others are only too prone to be themselves deceived. Go back and get that duckling before she’s snapped up by some one else, and don’t listen to anything the cocoanut may tell you about sprats and penny hens. If you doubt my word, ask the sausage, who is too much of a fool to deceive any one but himself/
"Off went the dog-fox with his tail between his legs, for he was ashamed to think he had been overreached by a cocoanut.
“But at the same time he was not disposed to disregard that warning about the bones, for there was nothing he dreaded so much as being tricked himself. So you may be sure he went to the sausage first before inviting the guinea-hen to come with him a second time.
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“ ‘ Good-morning, sausage/ said the dog-fox ; * you don’t look quite yourself this morning/
“ ‘No/ replied the sausage; ‘there’s not much left of me but the skin. There’s my head, to be sure— that’s tied with a bit of string to my neck; but I’ve shaken out pretty well all the rest. I can feel that my heart is left inside; I’d shake that out, but I don’t think any one would take the trouble to pick it up/
“ ‘ Dear me, you were veiy plump when I last saw you/ said the dog-fox. ‘What’s become of all the nice lumps of fat?’
“ ‘ Oh, the duckling has picked them all up/ replied the sausage cheerfully, ‘pretty darling, and she looks more like a Michaelmas goose than a duckling after it/
‘“You couldn’t possibly mistake her for a sprat, could you ?’ asked the dog-fox slyly.
“The sausage would have laughed at the idea, but there was nothing left in him to laugh with; so he only shook his head seriously, and said—
“ ‘ No, she’s not a fishy duck even, but just the tenderest, sweetest, juiciest---’
“ The dog-fox couldn’t wait to hear more, but bolted
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off, slobbering at the mouth as he thought of the picking in store. However he wiped his jaws and put on a decent air when he caught sight of the guinea-hen and the duckling, and going up to them with a cheerful air, he said—* Good-morning, dears; I’ve come to take you for that walk we talked about the other day.’
“But the guinea-hen, although she was secretly very pleased to see him come back, drew herself up with dignity and asked why he had not kept his appointment and called the day before yesterday as he promised; whereupon the dog-fox told her first one fib and then another fib, and went on piling up fibs until at length the guinea-hen thought that surely there must be one genuine excuse amongst so many. And after all she did not dislike the dogfox, and it was only her pride he had wounded by his neglect, and she was too kind-hearted to bear malice. ‘Besides,’ she said to herself, ‘he’s only a fox at present; but if I can only educate him into a guinea-fowl he will never offend again/
“ So she called the duckling to her side, gave her arm to the dog-fox, and went off with him to a place where he said she could teach him to fly. The
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sausage blessed them as they went off, for he had achieved the object of his benevolent wishes, and feeling he could do no more shrivelled up. The dog-fox did not trouble himself to take his young friends home to the old vixen, but just gobbled up the little duckling on the way, and left not a scrap of her but a few feathers and a few bones.”
" But that’s not all,” said Laure, as I came to a stop.
“ That’s all I know about the duckling.”
“ But the poor guinea-hen, what became of her ? ” "Some say he gobbled her up also, others that he had no appetite for her after eating the duckling, and left her to break her heart.”
“ Oh, but a story shouldn’t end like that.”
“ No ; but stories will end like that when sausages and guinea-hens put faith in foxes who pretend they can turn themselves inside out.”
“ But the old cocoanut—why didn’t he interfere ? ” “ I don’t know; perhaps he was too busy—perhaps he feared his warning might be taken as an impertinence by the guinea-hen; what do you think, Miss D airym pie ? ”
Miss Dalrymple had been looking gravely in the

fire during the course of my narrative—at least, whenever I glanced at her; but now she raised her eyes, and, looking me in the face, said with her calm air of self-possession—“ He might have been silent because
she added, “If she were not wise enough to take care of herself it is very probable that she would be silly enough to regard a timely warning as an impertinence.”
Just at that moment there was a sound on the hard path outside that attracted Laure’s attention, and looking from the window she cried—“ Oh, dear! oh, dear! Here comes that horrid Mr. Lynn Yeames ”
“ I dare say he has not come to see us, my dear,” said I, “ so we will go in the next room and see about the packing.”
Nurse Gertrude rose from her chair and held out her hand to me, and as I pressed it in mine we looked fairly into each others eyes, and I saw in the expression of hers that she was neither unwise nor ungrateful.
he thought her too foolish to profit by advice; ” then

CHAPTER XV.
MU. LYNN YEAMES PROVES HIMSELF BUT A SECOND-
RATE DECEIVER.
T GATHERED up my hat, great coat, comforter, and stick, and tucking them under one arm and little Laure under the other, slipped into the adjoining room, where we shut ourselves in, just as Mr. Yeames was admitted to the drawing room by the other door.
I would have given anything to know what was taking place there; but I could not well put my ear to the keyhole in the presence of little Laure, so I had to content myself with the hope that the moral of my fable would enable Nurse Gertrude to see through the wiles of her crafty visitor, and give her strength to defeat them. It was exasperating to hear
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the murmur of voices and not to distinguish what was being said; however I learnt later on from a certain source what took place in this interview, and I will set it down here as if I had seen and heard all—which, in my mind, I certainly did when the mere facts of the case were made known to me.
Standing by the door as he closed it, Lynn made a grave inclination of his head expressive of respect, contrition—anything you like; then he stepped forward hastily with his hand out, his head erect, his chest thrown forward, in a manly, honest way. She put her hand in hi3.
“ Can you forgive me ? ” he asked, holding her hand, and speaking in that rapid, full undertone that is supposed to express earnest anxiety. “ Gertrude ! ” he added, with a tender inflection, putting forth his left arm to take her by the waist.
Nothing succeeds like audacity with certain women; but Gertrude was not of that set, and, quietly shrinking to avoid his touch, she withdrew her hand and seated herself with the slightest deprecatory movement of her head. I can see that graceful, dignified movement as I write—a kind of “ no-thank-you ” movement.

With a deep sigh Lynn dropped his hands by his sides and sank into a chair.
“ I ought to have spoken out at the very first, I know that,” he said, in the tone of a man candidly admitting an amiable weakness. “I ought to have given you an explanation; but I was beside myself that morning”
“And as you have not offered any explanation since I am to suppose that you have been beside yourself rather over a week,” said Miss Dalrymple’ with sympathy in her voice.
The fellow had not the slightest sense of humour, and took her sarcasm seriously.
“Indeed I have,” he said, with another sigh. He must surely have thought all women fools.
“Then I think a little apparent eccentricity of conduct must certainly be forgiven; ” and so, as if she had dismissed the subject, she asked in a tone of ordinary civility, “ And when did you return ? ”
“ Oh, I—er—came back this morning,” replied Mr. Lynn uncomfortably.
“You have seen your mamma, of course ?”
“ Yes; I had to take my traps home, you know, and get a tub after that beastly journey.”
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“ To say nothing of giving your mamma some sort of explanation, she must have been very anxious about you/’
“Yes; the mater seemed to be a bit worried and anxious.”
“Dr. Awdrey has asked frequently after you. I suppose you have not had time to call upon him ? *
“No—that is, yes; I spotted him coming along.”
“ How very fortunate. Mr. Keene has been inquiring about you. Of course you have not seen him ? ”
Not knowing how much she knew, he had to admit the fact that he had seen me also.
“ Er—yes, I have; had to call upon him on a pressing matter of business, you know.”
“Then, now I suppose you have satisfied nearly everybody’s curiosity. Isn’t it a great relief to you ?”
The young man bent his head and looked on the ground. He couldn’t stand chaff; but he had to make the best of it now—perhaps consoling himself with the reflection that he would not stand it after their marriage. I can imagine him promising himself bo break her in and bring her to meek submission in
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the future. Pity those poor souls who marry a bully they have teased beforehand 1
“ I think this is scarcely a time for badinage,” said he, after a pause, still looking on the ground and tracing the pattern of the carpet with the lash of his whip. “ I know I am not perfect; but you must admit that allowances should be made for a fellow under the influence of—of emotion.”
“I am willing to admit that a man under that condition is not responsible for his actions—is that enough ? ”
“ If you admit that, what am I to understand by your present attitude ? You seem to forget what took place before I went away.”
“ But I do not. You made me an offer of marriage, but am I wrong in thinking that you made that under the influence of emotion ? I absolve you from responsibility for action under that condition. May I not suppose that you were beside yourself when you made that proposal, and overlook the mistake as readily as that you have committed since ? ”
He was not quick enough for this sort of fencing, he only felt safe at a heavy cudgel kind of argument, and he fell back on it now.

“ It was not a mistake, Gertrude—I loved you then as I love you now; I have come here this afternoon to ask you again if you will have me, faulty as I am—yet an honest fellow, thank heaven!—and be my wife ? ”
Nurse Gertrude was not greatly moved with this speech, which had very little appearance of depth and sincerity in it, despite the quavering of that manly voice, and a good deal of what he himself might have called “side.”
“ May I ask why you have thought it necessary to ask me a second time ? ” she asked, trying to fix his shifty eyes, and learn the truth from them.
“ Well, your manner seems to imply that you consider the engagement broken off.”
“ I did think it broken off. Had I not reason to think so ? ”
“ Oh, yes; the way I spoke to you and little Laure was unpardonable.”
He paused, and looked down again to escape from her fathoming eyes. He had probably thought that there would be little difficulty in his way, and that he could just reconcile Gertrude, if she should resent his silence, with a few words and a kiss or two, and

without going into any more vexatious explanation than the mere avowal of manly weakness under trying circumstances. Dr. Awdrey had told him to confess the truth, and conceal nothing, adding that a woman would forgive the man she loves anything except duplicity. But Lynn, in his own conceited, pigheaded way, had fully relied on his own cleverness; his contempt for women in general disposed him to tell them no more than was necessary. He would rather have avoided an explanation, which, though it presented a certain attraction in being untruthful, would require a good deal of bolstering up to support his assumption of honesty and generosity. However he had bungled so disastrously in his own attempt, that he saw no escape from his dilemma but by acting now on Awdrey's suggestion.
“The fact is,” said he, changinghis tone with a slash at his leg, “I was purposely brutal to little Laure and you, I wished you to take offence and relieve me from the engagement
“That is what I thought—it was the only construction I could put upon your behaviour,” said she.
“ I dare say you wonder what my reason was. I will tell you. I can't conceal the truth, and I know

well enough that there’s nothing a loving woman will not forgive, except duplicity.”
A new warmth glowed in Gertrude’s heart. She liked those words; they were good and true—it never struck her that they might be Dr. Awdrey’s.
“ I knew that through Keene’s delay I was ruined —that I had nothing whatever to expect from my uncle’s will. I knew that I must no longer cherish the thought of making you my wife, in debt and penniless as I was, and—but there, you can imagine the rest.”
“ You wanted to give me the opportunity of breaking the engagement, before it might appear that our separation was due to mercenary considerations on my part. Oh, that was generous! ” exclaimed Nurse Gertrude, carried away by her own impulsive and generous recognition of an unselfish, nay, a chivalrous motive on his part. All my warning was forgotten in an instant.
"I did not want to tell you this,” he said, in a tone that seemed to disclaim any merit to gratitude.
“But you wronged me, Lynn,” she said gently— “ you wronged me, to think I might wish to break
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the engagement because you were less rich than you expected to be when you made me an offer.”
She held out her hand to him frankly, and he took it. If he had been wise enough to tell her all that had passed between him and Awdrey, she would have been his without doubt. In return for an open avowal, she would have swept aside my warning and all prudential considerations, put the best construction on his motives, and scorned to entertain any suspicion of mercenary motives which might be suggested by his conduct. Now was the time for him to spring up and put his arms around her; but he hung back, the dolt! With that perverse idea of a girl’s mental inferiority, he thought he had told her enough. Possibly he was annoyed in being forced to abandon his own way of winning her, and act upon Awdrey’s more generous and manly advice. Perhaps, believing that she was anxious to get him, he thought he might treat her with a little indifference as a kind of punishment for her previous coolness. There is no knowing the extent of pitiful meanness a heartless man is not capable of. Anyhow, he sat there in silence, waiting for her to make
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a further advance. And that, giving her time for reflection, saved her.
“ Are you greatly in debt, Lynn ? ” she asked, after a little consideration.
“ Oh, not a great deal,” he replied, carelessly; “a few hundreds.”
“ How many hundreds do you think ?”
“Ten or a dozen,” he said, with an unpleasant glance that seemed to say, “ That’s not your business.”
But Miss Dalrymple evidently thought it was her business. How could she help an uneasy feeling stealing upon her, when the fool made no attempt to prevent it.
“ And how do you propose to pay your debts ? ” she asked, not at all frightened by his forbidding look.
“ That will be all right. The fellows won’t press for payment. They know their only chance is to wait till I get a bit straight.”
“How do you mean to get straight, as you call it ? ” she asked, smiling.
“Hang it all, Gertie,” he exclaimed petulantly, “ let’s drop this subject. I came to make love to you, not to talk about money.”
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“Yes; but the two subjects seem to have become so involved that we can hardly mention one without talking about the other. The best way is to detach the pleasant from the unpleasant subject, and that would be most readily done by settling the money question at once—don’t you think so ? ”
“ Oh, well, if we must talk about that sort of thing, I should ask you to let me have a little money to square my accounts, while I look about for something that would enable me, in time, to pay you back —though I don’t think there ought to be any debt or credit account between man and wife.”
“ Nor I,” replied she gravely. “ If I marry you, all that I have will be yours, and I should be very unhappy if I thought it necessary to question how you disposed of it. That is why we ought to settle the subject beforehand.”
“ That’s all right. Of course, whatever I do with the money will be for our common good. So that settles the thing,” he said, rising from his chair.
“Not altogether. To be quite explicit, I really do not think I can let you have ten or twelve hundred pounds. I am not certain how much I have, but I fear it is considerably less than that.”
“ There is no hurry, my dear child, none whatever!
18

said Lynn, approaching and laying his hand on her shoulder with the soothing and somewhat contemptuous manner he might have adopted towards a restive horse ; “ eight—ten months will be soon enough to settle my creditors* little bills. Ill manage them ! ”
“ But in ten months I may be as far as ever from being able to let you have the sum you need; in the meantime you must be incurring fresh debts unless you have some definite means of earning money/* He looked at her questioningly, rather taken aback by this announcement.
“ But you have heard of the arrangement Awdrey is going to make ? ” he said.
“ Yes; Mr. Keene spoke to me about it yesterday —he told me he had full instructions to make terms with me respecting a perpetual engagement.”
“You did not refuse his offer, did you?** asked Lynn, with a terrible suspicion that Miss Dalrymple might be Quixotic enough for such an act of abnegation.	•
“ No; the terms were very generous, and I accepted/*
“Then where*s the difficulty? You surely don*t think of living up to your income ? **
“ Perhaps not; but I don*t think my economies
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D igitized byl ^	 PUBLIC LI BRA RY

will amount to much more than fifty pounds by the end of the year.”
He stepped back and sank into his seat, looking at her in speechless surprise. They were both under a misconception. She knew nothing about the two thousand a year Awdrey intended settling on her, and reckoned solely upon the one hundred I had agreed to pay; he knew nothing about the one hundred, and reckoned upon the two thousand. And the cool assertion that she should live pretty close up to that two thousand a year was enough to take his breath away. His look of astonishment perplexed Nurse Gertrude more than it amused her at the moment; for the gravity of the situation overpowered her perception of the ridiculous.
“ I don't understand,” he said at length; “ do you really mean that you think of living at the rate of two thousand a year ? ”
“Certainly not. One hundred a year is what Mr. Keene agreed to pay me, and those are the terms I have accepted.”
“ But Awdrey told me that he intended settling the whole of the interest on the money left by Flexmore on you for taking the care of the child off his hands, and quite right that he should."

“I know nothing at all about that. Mr. Keene proposed a salary that I thought reasonable; if he had proposed more, I think I should have declined to accept it.”
“ I must have an explanation with Awdrey at once. There seems to be a little shuffling here. I must know the facts of the case.”
“ Mr. Keene is in the next room,” suggested Miss Dalrymple.
Lynn replied with an expression in regard to me which it is unnecessary to repeat, for I think I have shown enough to prove that he was a blackguard, and quitted the room, to “ go and have it out with Awdrey,” in a manner so devoid of feeling, or even common courtsey, that it must at once have destroyed any faith in his sincerity that poor Gertrude cherished.
I have often asked myself since how it was that this young man so abruptly abandoned the course of hypocrisy he had hitherto followed so patiently and consistently—why he did not at least keep up a semblance of honesty until he was convinced that there was nothing to be got by it ? I can only explain it by believing that he lacked the stamina which distinguishes a good from a second-rate player

A SECOND BATE DECEIVER.	187
at chess. Your second-rate player opens the game well, but in the critical finish, exalted by success into
LYNN QUITTED THE RoOH TO ‘ QO AND HAVE IT OUT WITH AWDREY.1 ”
an undue appreciation of his own ability, or his adversary’s inability, he abandons careful tactics, and

makes rash and reckless moves that inevitably lead to his own ruin.
Poor Gertrude! it was some time after the door closed upon Mr. Lynn Yeames before she came from the room where he left her, and then, despite the cheerful air she assumed, I perceived that she had been crying.
Here, again, I have wondered what she cried for. Had she not every reason to be pleased that she had found out the man’s real character before marriage rather than after it? Was not scorn of such a base fellow enough to dry in its source the regretful tears that would have sprung in losing a lover ? I should have thought so. But nothing puts on so many unlooked-for aspects as human nature. One cannot reason upon the movement of human hearts as if they were made of wheels, mathematically arranged, to produce from a given impulse a certain and undeviating result. So I say again, poor Gertrude! for she was weak as well as strong.
Had she really loved Lynn ? or was she only interested in him from a belief that her influence had ennobled him ? I cannot say; all I know is that she wept in realizing that he was neither noble nor lovable.
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CHAPTER XVI.
DR. AWDREY PERSEVERES
HERE is
wire-
blind to the win-
dow of my office facing
the street, so that as
can see what is going
This
on out of doors.
is very convenient to
a country lawyer who
sees his clients pull
up at his door, and
is thus prepared to
meet them. The morning after my last visit to
Flexmore House I heard the crunching of wheels in
Original from
 PUEL C L BRARY

the ice of the gutter, and, glancing through the aforesaid blind, I caught sight of Dr. Awdrey. The old gig had been mended, and he had bought a new nag of the same sober sort as the last. “ Ha, ha! ” thought I, ‘‘he’s come to settle about the two thousand a year that Nurse Gertrude is to receive.”
It must be remembered that the particulars of the interview between Lynn Yeames and Miss Dalrymple, which I have set down in the last chapter, had not then come to my knowledge.
Dr. Awdrey came in clapping his hands, for, I remember, it was bitterly cold; and, pulling off one of his knitted gloves, he gave me his hand. His nose was red,	but	his	fine kindly eyes sparkled	brightly;
and he	had	in	his face that expression	of	virile
energy, and vigour and triumph, which one may see in a man when he has broken the ice to take his morning plunge. But there are difficulties to overcome in carrying out a healthy, moral principle that call for	just	as	much nerve and courage	as	diving
through	half	an	inch of ice; and it has often	struck
me that if a man braved as much personal inconvenience and discomfort in the service of humanity, as he will endure for the mere sake of self-glorification, it

would be infinitely better for himself and his fellow creatures. It was a moral plunge of this kind that animated and beautified the doctor’s face that morning^ I felt sure.
He sat down before the fire warming his hands and talking about the weather for some minutes; then, after a pause, he said—“ Are there any farms to let about here, Keene, do you know ? ”
“ Yes,” said I; “ you may take your pick of them for ten miles round.”
“ Is that a fact ? Do you mean what you say ? ” “ Certainly. There’s not a farmer who would not give up if he could find any one to take the land off his hands.”
“ How’s that ? ”
“ They’re losing money.”
“ Why ? Is the rent too high ? ”
“Land was never so cheap before. Rents have gone down fifty per cent.”
“ Then why don’t farming pay ? ”
" I’ll tell you, ” said I; “ it’s because your farmer is too genteel to work, and has to pay another for doing what he ought to do himself—that’s one reason.”
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“ If a man were not too genteel to work, if he put his heart and soul into it, if he went into it as a man goes into battle, staking his life on winning, how then ? ”
“ He would make it pay—I’d stake my reputation on it!” I exclaimed. “You know nothing about farming, doctor; but with your dogged perseverance and a certain amount of intelligence that you would bring to bear on it, even you might make it pay; and I’ll guarantee that you would make more by it than by your medical practice/'
“ I am very glad to hear you think so, ” said he cheerfully.
“ Why ? Do you think of taking a farm ? ” I asked hopefully.
He nodded. I was never better pleased in my life, and I told him so.
“ It will make a new man of you,’’said I. “ It will give you new life. You’ll see that there’s something better than physic—though I suppose if any one with the toothache sends for you in the middle of the night you’ll turn out.”
“I dare say I shall,” he replied, with a twinkle in his eye that perplexed me.
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However I was too pleased to tliink what was in his mind just then.
"Now, there’s Thibald’s farm,” said I. "You could get that at fifteen shillings an acre, I know.”
“Too far off. How about Captain Rangers farm —do you think he wants to give up?”
"I know he does. He must. Cant go on losing eight hundred a year.”
“Eight hundred a year! That’s a good deal to lose,” he said, drawing a long face.
" Why does he lose it ? Because he never goes
out of the house except to hunt or shoot; because he
is lounging about his billiard-room instead of looking
after his accounts when he’s at home; because his
wife keeps four servants; because he pays Evans
three hundred a year for robbing him ; and because
he’s no more a farmer than you are a lawyer.. It’s
famous land—the best in the country. I’ll get the
place, house and all for you for a pound an acre.
You’re bound to make it pay; it’s the very thing
for vou.”
•/
He smiled at my enthusiasm—a pleasant smile it was too.
" Besides,” I went on, " look what a lot of good a

man like you could do there—half the vagabonds in Coneyford come from the squalid cottages on that estate—you would make them decent, and put the poor wretches in the way of living honestly and happily. That alone ought to tempt you, if I know you at all.”
I saw it did tempt him. He looked in the fire meditatively, and it was easy to guess how his large heart and big mind were occupied. I continued to praise the farm and lay its advantages before him, for I had a strong motive in wishing him to take it. It adjoined the Dingle ; from the windows of the farmhouse he would look over the pleasant meadows to Miss Dalrymple’s cottage.
“ Well,” said he, rising, “ I shall go over and look at the farm this afternoon perhaps. Do you know if Captain Ranger is at home ?99
“ He is, and will be only too glad to see you. IT1 send a note up to him this morning. Leave all the negotiations to me. I shall manage that better than you could.”
We shook hands and parted; but as soon as he was gone a misgiving seized me. That misgiving was verified in the afternoon when I caught sight of
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him jogging along in the gig towards Captain Ranger’s with Lynn Yeames on the seat beside him.
It was for Lynn, not for himself, he wanted the farm. I saw now why he had pitched upon that particular one; he also was aware that it was side by side with the Dingle. If anything could promote their union, it was this propinquity; for here, he must have reflected, the young man would be urged to do his best, that she might see he had the good qualities—the energy, the resolution which he pretended to, and she-----but let me get on with my
narrative.
In the evening I went over to the doctor’s house to see if I could pick up any news, and by a happy chance he was at home. He welcomed me heartily, gave me a cigar—a good one, you may be sure— and when he had lit his own, he said—“ I have seen the captain’s farm. It will do admirably. I will get you to arrange terms with him as early as possible.”
I nodded gloomily. My want of enthusiasm now, contrasting with my warmth in the morning, was too noticeable to escape him. Like all good fellows, he was keenly alive to the humorous aspect of
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things, and I saw that twinkle in his eye again as he turned to poke the fire.
“ I suppose there will be no difficulty about the money,” he said.
“No,” I replied, with a grunt.
“ When do you think he will turn out—the earliest date ? ”	,
“March 24th”
“ Not before ? ”
“No,” I said; “and a good job too” I added, speaking to myself.
“You don’t seem so eager about it as you were, Keene,” he said, with a smile.
“No; I was idiot enough to think you were going to take it for yourself. ”
“ And you have found out that the future tenant is to be----”
“Lynn Yeames? It’s too good for him,” said I, angrily.
“We shall see.”
“ Yes, we shall see him lose money—that’s a comfort.”
“He can’t lose more than eight hundred a year.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Who's to pay his losses ?”
“I am”
“ I thought so,” I growled.	,
“I see no better way of executing Flexmore's wishes. If you were not so terribly prejudiced, I would look to you for help in the matter.”
Nothing annoys me so much as to be accused of prejudice. It's bad enough to be told of the faults one has; but to be fathered with the very vice you pride yourself on being free from is exasperating. I dashed my cigar in the fire, and half turned my back on the doctor.
“ Fm not clever at this kind of thing—I'm clumsy,” said he, taking no notice of my irritation. “ I feel the need of counsel.”
“Well, let me hear what you've got to say,” said I, turning round, with a resolve to be as impartial in my dealings with Yeames as if he were unknown to me.
“ I have no right to any of this money virtually,” he said.
“I won't admit that, to begin with,” I replied# “He willed the money to you, and signed his will

when he was in health, and had the ability to reason the matter out: the will he did not sign was decided upon when he was sick and unable to reason upon it."
“You will admit that in either case he intended this money to go to the man Miss Dalrymple should marry ? ” I assented to this proposition, and he continued : “ It is no longer a question whether I shall marry her—that is settled for ever.”
“ But it is a question whether Lynn will marry her, and that is not settled for ever.”
“ They will marry,” he said, emphatically; “ the only thing that separates them is this miserable question of money. I thought it might be arranged by giving the money to Miss Dalrymple; but, from what she said yesterday to Lynn, it is doubtful if she will accept it.”
“ I don’t believe she will accept it, and come to that I don’t see why she should. Her feelings are just as fine as yours, and she has no more right to the money than—according to your own notions —you have.”
“ That is the mistake I made, and it has increased the difficulty. Lynn frankly admits that he has be-
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haved badly to Miss Dairymple under the irritation of this wretched money question, and declares that he can never dare to stand in her presence until he has redeemed his character”
I was heartily glad to hear this, and I said so.
“ It struck me in the night,” he continued, “ that
Lynn, with his love of the country, his physical
strength and vigour, could do something with a farm,
I feel sure that he only needs occupation to develop
his better qualities, and make a capital good fellow of
him. It would steady him, Keene; he has told me
over and over again that he needs an object in life
to strive for. We all must have that, or live a trivial
and contemptible existence. And striving to attain
that object will just give him the steadfastness of
character which he seems to lack at present—and no
wonder. As you pointed out this morning, there are
lots of capabilities for an earnest and sharp fellow
in the captain’s farm, and I sincerely believe that
as he works on he will rise in his own esteem, until
he feels that he may once more address himself
to Miss Dalrymple. And do you think she will
refuse him when she sees how he has strengthened 14

his character by working heart and soul for her sake ? ”
" Well, if he will only work heart and soul for his own sake, it’s as much as I can expect of him,” said I. " Let him begin with that; we shall see about the rest. You have spoken to him on this subject ? ” "Yes: we went together to look at the farm this afternoon. He is delighted with it, is confident of success, and eager to begin.”
I was not surprised to hear this. Every one thinks he has the wit to make a farm pay by just riding about on a cob and giving orders; and to be a "gentleman farmer” is the desire of a good many lazy young gentlemen—especially when there’s good shooting in the neighbourhood, and a comfortable house, with an excellent billiard-table in it.
"Is he sufficiently confident in himself to work it on his own responsibility, or will he work it at your risk ? ” I added.
"Oh, of course I shall take the risk—he has no money—he is in debt indeed.”
" You did not promise any given sum ? ”
"No; I left that to be arranged with you. That
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is the subject on which I want advice. I did not wish to make a second muddle.”
I smiled at the possibility of Lynn refusing the money if it had been offered him, but said nothing. It was a difficult question how to dispose of the money in dealing with a rascal on the one hand* and two people with such particularly sensitive and fine feelings on the other; however, after turning it over in my mind for some minutes, I began to see my way to a safe arrangement.
“If you are still resolved on parting with your money, I think I see how it may be done without too much risk,” said I. “We will start with the idea that when Flexmore House is sold, the Dingle cottage paid for, and everything squared up, you have two thousand a year to dispose of for nine years from this date. Half of that must be put away as a reserve fund. Out of the other half you must pay Miss Dairymple’s salary and the expenses of Laure and the cottage—say, roughly, four hundred a year. That leaves six hundred to meet the losses on the farm and pay interest on the capital invested on going in. If Yeames makes farming pay, so much the better for him; he can pocket the profit, and

the six hundred can be added to the reserve fund.”
“ And what is to be done with the reserve fund ? ” " I’m coming to that. At the end of nine years, when Miss Dairymple ceases to be Laure’s guardian the reserve sum shall be drawn out and paid over in a lump to Miss Dalrymple if she is single (whether she likes it or not—she will be older and wiser then, I dare say), or to her husband if she is married. Here is an inducement for Yeames to develop his fine qualities, to work hard and win Miss Dalrymple, for then he will come in for the whole amount arising from the bequest. Now, there’s an arrangement advantageous enough for Yeames in all conscience. It does not benefit you one penny piece, and so ought to be acceptable to you; and it carries out Flex-more’s last wishes to a tittle.”
“ That seems a capital arrangement,” said Awdrey cheerfully. “ I should think Yeames would be pleased with it.”
“ He ought to be,” said I. But I was very doubtful whether he would be; for a greedy man will not be satisfied with ten thousand a vear, if he thinks he may by hook or by crook get twenty.
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However, he had the grace to express entire satisfaction with the arrangement when Awdrey explained it to him, and the doctor bade me conclude negotiations with Captain Hanger as quickly as possible.

CHAPTER XVII.
A SPOKE IN MR. YEAMES’S WHEEL.
mHE following week Miss Dalrymple moved into her new home with all her household; and one morn ing, when I had been to settle affairs with Captain Ranger, I walked across the meadow, climbed over the fence that separated them from the Dingle paddock, and made my way up to the cottage. I found everything in its place, and the whole house as neat and comfortable as if the tenants had been there a year.
It seemed to me that I had never seen Nurse Gertrude to such advantage. Black was certainly becoming to her, and her dress was, to my eyes, the perfection of grace and elegance, giving fulness to her figure which, as I have said before, was, in my opinion, a trifle too slight. Her carriage was never
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A SPOKE IN MR. YE AMES'S WHEEL. 205
wanting in dignity, but I thought she bore herself with the air of one conscious of being mistress of the house. Yet there was no stiffness or formality
I CLIMBED OVER THE FENCE THAT SEPARATED THEM FROM THE DINGLE PADDOCK. ”
in her manner, little Laure herself didn’t welcome me with sweeter smiles.
Bright fires were burning, and a cat and a dog
/

shared the hearthrug amicably; the sun streamed through on to the new carpet, there were flowers and berries here and there, an open work table, besides many signs of modern taste and refinement, which, though rather out of keeping with an old-fashioned bachelors notions, nevertheless impressed me favourably. We old ones have had our day, and the young must have theirs; and though we cling to the things of our youth we must submit to their being pushed aside, for every change is in the direction of the higher and better, though we may fail to see it.
“Yes,” said I, looking about me, “ everything is bright and charming. It is prettier than the old house. That was comfortable for old folks, but this is in harmony with your young faces.”
Then I sat down by the fire, and we fell to talking about the neighbours. I learnt that they had already received visitors, though it was scarcely time to expect them, and was glad to hear this, not only because it would be good for Laure to find companions of her own age, but for Miss Dalrymple’s sake also. Mixing among people who must appreciate her excellent qualities, it was ten to one that some decent young fellow would fall in love with her, and good might
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come of it. One thing I had made up my mind upon: if Dr. Awdrey wouldn’t have her, Mr. Lynn Yeames shouldn’t. Although the running at present looked favourable for Lynn, the race was not won yet by many a length, and I had a strong belief that he would be found nowhere when the marriage bell rang.
“And who else has called upon you, Miss Dal-rymple?” I asked, when Laure left the room. “Has Mr. Yeames paid you another visit since we last met?”
I wondered whether the little frown with which she replied in the negative implied that she was hurt by his neglect, or vexed at the thought of his calling upon her again.
“ I was told that he intends to redeem his character before he again presents himself, ” said I.
“I am very glad to hear it,” she replied, taking up her work.
“ However, you will be able to see him, for he is to be a near neighbour.” I fancied that she did not look particularly pleased at this intimation. “He is going to live in the house over there, and from this window you will be able to see him, if you get
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208 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
-	■	.. "	'	■	1	mi	..... .........
up early, mowing his fields, following his team, throwing heart and soul and money into the noble endeavour to become a worthy member of society and a model farmer.,,
She laid her work in her lap, and, looking at me incredulously, said—“But I understood that Mr. Yeames was in difficulties.”
“ What does that matter ? He has found a friend who’s a bigger fool than he in some respects, willing to pay his debts, and spend a thousand a year besides to make a worthy gentleman of him. Do you think he will succeed?”
She did not reply to my question, but sat absorbed in thought. Watching her face keenly, I thought there was an expression of tender sadness in it Was she mourning in her heart for the face of one whom no effort could raise up? Or was she grieving to think of that friend’s disappointment when he should find that all he had done was of no avail ?
“ The friend is Dr. Awdrey ? ” said Miss Dalrymple after we had sat in silence for some moments.
“ Yes,” I replied; “ that is not difficult to discover, for I believe there’s not another man in the whole
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world who would beggar himself for others as he wilL,,
She sat with idle hands and musing eyes still and silent, as one sits at times awed by the beauty of a starry night.
“And I have not told you all that he will do to make Yeames a gentleman—he will give him two thousand a year when he wins you. If that does not encourage him to make himself a fit subject for matrimony, I don't know what will/’
“He must have a great respect for Mr. Yeames,” she said.
“A very strong belief in his latent goodness undoubtedly,” I said.
“Yet he has not seen a great deal of him,” she objected.
“ I should think that the less one knows of Hr Yeames, the higher one would esteem him.”
“Yet Dr. Awdrey must have seen as much of him as you have, Mr. Keene,” she replied, with a malicious twinkle; for she too shared the common notion that I am a man subject to prejudice, despite her ordinary good sense.
“ Dr. Awdrey is not a lawyer,” I retorted ; “ and
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let me say this in his defence, he is as simple and confiding as a girl. In that category he is not the only one who has had a great respect for Mr. Yeames.” .
“ How am I to reply to that thrust ? ” she asked, with a smile.
“By telling me that if Dr. Awdrey had as intimate an acquaintance with Mr. Yeames as you have his respect would have evaporated.”
“ But still his faith in latent good qualities might exist,!*' said she.
“I know his love would remain unaltered; and while he thinks Yeames capable of goodness, and you capable of loving him, he will endeavour to bring about your marriage.”
“ His love ? ” she repeated, questioningly, with a little emphasis.
“ His love,” I said again ; “ ‘ and greater love hath no man than this—that he lay down his life for his friend/”
“ Do you think he loves Mr. Yeames to such an extent as that ? ”
“I was not thinking of Mr. Yeames,” said I; “he is not the only friend concerned: it is a friend better
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known, more highly prized in his heart, for whom that brave man would lay down his life/’
The malicious smile provoked by our little passage of arms faded from her lips, the colour left her cheek, her dark eyes deepened as she looked at me with intense earnestness, to read in my face what I had yet left untold.
I believe she realized at that moment for the first time that Dr. Awdrey loved her with a love that is deeper than friendship.
"If I have not put a considerably long spoke in Mr. Lynn’s wheel, I’m a Dutchman,” said I to myself, as I went away from Dingle Cottage.

CHAPTER XVIIL
FIRST CHARGE AGAINST DR. AWDREY.
A S time went on however my faith in that spoke diminished.
Lynn Yeames had the sagacity to leave Coney ford, and keep out of sight, knowing that he could do nothing to re-establish his character until he should be in the farm where he was to work such wonders, or finding the bad weather that succeeded the frost intolerable, or society dull, or for some other reason that may be clearer later on.
I have said that he had made himself very popular at Coneyford with his charities, his reckless riding, his agreeable manners (to those he liked, or those he wished to like him) and his assumption of bluff, outspoken honesty. People were inclined to think

even better of him in his absence than when he was amongst them, remembering the pleasant side of his character, and forgetting the little slips which occasionally may have awakened suspicion. He was spoken of as a fine type of muscular Christianity. Miss Dalrymple was constantly with these people, and as it was generally understood that a tacit engagement existed between her and Yeames, they thought to please her by talking about him, and sounding his praises. Then that dear, stupid old doctor, whenever he got a letter from Lynn, must needs show it to her and dilate on the fine prospect extending before a young fellow with such manly feeling and high aim.
I was at Dingle Cottage several times when he called, and it seemed to me he only came there to talk about Lynn, or discuss the things he might do when he took possession of Captain Rangers farm—evidently seeking to interest her in the improvements that might be made on the estate with a view to her sharing in Lynns occupation when they should be near neighbours. Miss Dalrymple could not listen to all these direct or indirect praises of Lynn without being influenced in his favour. But how could I undo the mischief ? What was the good of my firing shot
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after shot at a wary enemy who kept just out of range ? No one supported me—not a soul! I stood there alone in my dislike and mistrust. People laughed in my face if I said anything against him, and behind my back said I was a spiteful, venomous, rancorous, prejudiced old man; I know they did.
It seemed to me that all the world was mad; the only evidence of sanity that I could discover was a dawning appreciation of Dr. Awdrey’s merit.
You may be sure that I did not hide his light under a bushel: I let every one know the disposition he was making of the money that was legally his. People signified that it was no more than right, considering that it was by the merest accident (culpable delay on my part, some hinted) that the second will giving the trust money to Yeames was not signed; but they admitted that Awdrey had behaved well in the matter. His professional services were called for by several of the good families, and indeed it looked as if his luck were turning at last, and he might before long get a decent living out of his practice.
But this did not reconcile me to the course of events. A few hundreds a year more or less could

make no difference to his happiness; but the impending blow that threatened to shatter his peace of mind for ever looked day by day more likely to fall. Lynn would undoubtedly work well at his farm at the beginning—the very novelty and romance of the thing would please him; and then, with everybody holding up hands in wonder and astonishment at his prodigious virtue and “ manliness,” what was to save poor Miss Dalrymple from falling into the trap and marrying him ? What avail would be my single protest, now become a subject of public ridicule ? Nothing. They would marry: in six months he would tire of her and farming; in nine months he would neglect, her; in a year she would break her heart, and the doctor would be the most miserable man on the face of the earth.
It was the end of the second week in March, and people were speculating on the day when Lynn Yeames would make his appearance—for he was to take possession of the farm on quarter day— when something occurred which upset everything —nothing less than a moral cataclysm altering the entire aspect of affairs.
Coming home that particular afternoon I found 15

a visitor in my office who had been waiting there three parts of an hour to see me.
He was s. little pudgy man, with a short throat, a puffy face, and eyes as like a pig’s as ever I saw. He breathed with difficulty, and gasped before each sentence, and in the middle also if it was a long one. He had not much hair; what there was of it had a dirty, sandy tint; his whiskers were hardly distinguishable, they were so thinly planted, and so like his complexion. E[e was dressed in a tightly-buttoned frock coat that formed deep ridges in his waist, and seemed to increase the difficulty of breathing. In one hand he held his hat, in the other a pair of gloves, and both rested on his knees, which, by reason of their shortness and pudginess, were widely separated.
“ Afternoon, Mr. Keene; afternoon, sir,” he gasped, turning his little blue eyes in the corner before he could screw himself up on his legs to face me. “Come to talk with you on a matter of business. My names Bax—Smithson Bax; ” with this he sank down on his chair and gasped again.
“Not the pleasure of knowing you, Mr. Bax,” said I, sitting down in front of him.
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“ Thought you might have heard of me from Lynn Yeames, or (gasp) mother, Mrs. Yeames. I am —friend of the family.”
“A professional friend?” I asked, for I detected the look of a pettifogger in him.
“ You may call me—professional friend if you like —not a lawyer exactly—know something about it.” He gave me a glance that was not to be mistaken, and continued: “ To begin with, you must understand that I—acting on behalf of the family—Lynn Yeames nothing at all to do with it—better keep out of it.”
“He does not wish to take the responsibility of anything you do ? ”
“ That’s it. Too generous—too careless of his own interests—altogether too—” he gasped, and filled up the break with a wave of his gloves.
* “ I understand his character perfectly, Mr. Bax; let us come to the point.”
“We’ll go straight at it—begin in the middle— save breath. Dr. Awdrey is a scoundrel!”
Lawyer as I am, this fairly took me back.
“ Dr. Awdrey,” he continued, “ is nothing more nor less”----here a gasp and a short wave of his
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hat over his knee to fill up the break—“ biggest hypocrite, scoundrel, and rascal that ever imposed —credulous humanity ! ”
“ Be good enough to show me how you arrive at this conclusion,” said I.
“ Here goes! Flexmore’s wilL He knew of the conditions in the first one ? ”
“He did.”
“He knew also the conditions in the second?” “ He did.”
“ He knew that if that were not signed, he would come into two thousand a year ? ”
“ He did.”
“ Good. Tell—please, Mr. Keene, why that second will was not signed ? ”
“I failed to deliver it in time,” said I. He nodded.
“ Why did you fail—deliver in time ? ”
“ I was thrown out of a trap: that and the fog-----”
He waved his gloves interrupting me, and, with a look intended to pierce, gasped—“ Thrown out of trap! How ? Answer me that, if you please ! ”
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“ By a rope stretched from one side of the road to the other.”
“Good. I can produce a witness to prove that he was engaged by Dr. Awdrey to stretch that rope and throw you over! ”
With that he dashed his gloves inside his hat, planted his open hand on his knee, bunched up his thick lips, and looked at me out of his little blue eyes, as much as to say, “ There you are ; what do you think of that ? ”
To tell the truth, I felt as if the floor had suddenly sunk away from under my feet: but I was too old to let it be seen, and said as calmly as I could— “ Well, sir, go on. You have not come here simply to make that statement, I presume.”
€i That's one charge; but mark me!” he said, pausing to put his finger to the side of his fat nose, where he kept it as he continued—“ Mark me ! it isn't the only one—more than one witness to be produced. There's another charge—charge more serious than stretching rope cross road—upsetting you.”
“And pray what charge is that, Mr. Bax ? ” I asked, with pretended indifference.

“ A criminal charge. We reserve it—respect for Mr. Lynn Yeames’ feelings.”
“ A charge of this kind is likely to do him more injury than any one else,” said I.
“ Quite right to take the high horse Mr. Keene. We know all about that; ” he closed one of his little eyes, and looked exceedingly deep as he said this. “However, here's the fact—we can throw will into chancery, and ruin Dr. Awdrey, if we make facts public. Lynn Yeames does not wish to proceed. Mrs. Yeames does. So do I. To meet Lynn’s wishes we will abandon proceedings”—once more he laid his stubby finger on his stubby nose—“ on condition.”
“ Tell me straight out what you mean by that,” I said.
“ I mean—our side abandons proceedings—written guarantee and all that sort of thing; you on your side pay over interest on money left in trust for Miss Flexmore. Awdrey professes he has no right to money —give it up tp Lynn, who has. Loses nothing—avoids scandal—saves reputation. There you are.”
“ Have you anything more to add to this proposition ? ” I asked.
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“ Nothing, except this—stay proceedings for a week —time for you to arrange with Awdrey, and give us decision. One week from to-day—you understand ? ”
“ Perfectly well; there is no necessity to keep you waiting a week for a decision; you shall have it at once. On behalf of my client and myself, I refuse to have anything more to say to you. Let me say in conclusion, you confounded, pettifogging rascal,” said I, rising and giving free vent to my anger, “ that if you could prpve your criminal charge against Dr. Awdrey, I am the last person in the world who would compound a felony, but the first who would take measures to punish the man who did. Get out of my house ! ”
He got up on his little legs, gasping and stammering, dropped his gloves out of his hat, got purple in the face in picking them up, gasped and stammered again; but quickly made his way through the open door with his small blue eyes in the corner, for all the world like a pig bolting past a driver. Mrs. Lynn’s description of me, or her son’s, for I had no faith in his standing out, had evidently been not flattering, and he had thought to find in me a shuffling scoundrel of his own kidney.

CHAPTER XIX.
WHICH IS THE JUDAS?
IHIS event gave me no little anxiety at first, but
it wore off when I came to consider it calmly. I could not believe in the mans statement respecting a criminal charge in reserve. It was not likely he would keep back the stronger inducement in leading to a compromise. As for his witness to prove that Awdrey had been instrumental to my delay, that was nothing; he could get as many witnesses of that kind as he chose at a pound a head. No; it seemed to me nothing but a mere attempt at extortion, got up, probably, by Yeames, his mother, and Bax, who thought, very likely, that I should be rascal enough to stand in with them. It was easily understandable that Mr. Lynn Yeames would prefer the money all in his own hands in preference to
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taking a possible six hundred a year out of it, with a not too probable addition should he succeed in marrying Miss Dalrymple. But he was not fool enough to put all his eggs in one basket, he was cunning enough to disclaim any hand in the conspiracy, in order to profit by Awdrey *s generosity, should the attempt fail. But only think what a heartless, thankless, worthless vagabond he must have been to join in a plot against the man who was sacrificing everything to make him happy,
I flattered myself that I had shown Bax the folly of his "proceedings,” and that I should neither see nor hear any more of him or his criminal charges. And this belief was strengthened when two days later Lynn Yeames appeared in Coney ford, and his mother returned to her cottage.
He went the very morning of his arrival to Dr. Awdrey, and in the afternoon I saw them going along the High Street together, Lynn with his arm linked in Awdrey’s. They were going towards the farm to see the alterations and improvements that had occurred to the doctor in the others absence. I felt sure then that the intimidation scheme was abandoned.
I had said nothing about it to Awdrey, knowing
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that he would take it only as another evidence of Lynn's loyalty that he did not share in his mothers virulence.
But the next day I was alarmed to Tiear that Bax was staying with Mrs. Yeames *
I began then to fear that all was not so well as I had imagined, but it perplexed me to decide what his next move was to be.
It was evident that Lynn was silent about Bax and his mother; every day he was to be seen with Dr. Awdrey, who showed no sign of discomfort. Nothing occurred for several days; but on Friday, the 20th March, Miss Dalrymple called upon me. She was as pale as a ghost. Her hand trembled in mine.
“Oh, Mr. Keene!" she exclaimed, “ what is the meaning of these rumours ? "
“ Sit down, my dear," said I, guessing what she meant. “ Sit down; now tell me what it is you have heard."
She was greatly agitated.
“ I don’t know how to tell you," she said, hurriedly; “ it is so impossible—so dreadful."
“Tell me the worst. Don’t hurry. Now then what is it?"
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"They say that Dr. Awdrey prevented you from arriving at the house in time for Mr. Flexmore to sign his will. A man has confessed to being employed by him.”
"I have heard something about that. Have you heard anything else?”
“ Oh, yes, yes! They say that the medicine he
gave me to adminster to Mr. Flexmore was ”-----she
hesitated a moment, and dropping her voice so that it was scarcely audible, said—“ poisoned ! ”
I started. This then was the criminal charge Bax had hinted at.
“ Who told you this ?99 I asked, when I had overcome the first dash of astonishment.
"Mrs. Caseby came to tell me. She thought I ought to know.”
There never was a bad piece of news that some kind friend did not feel she ought to let you know it.
" Everybody is talking about it, she says. What can be done ? ”
" My dear,” said I, " no one can attach any blame to you in the matter.”
"Oh, I am not thinking about myself!” she
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exclaimed, “but poor Dr. Awdrey. Of course it is untrue: but how is he to disprove it ? ”
“ By taking no notice of it. That is the course I should advise.”
She shook her head.
“ It is not enough to treat such a charge with contempt,” said she. “ It must be made quite clear that he is innocent. People are against him; they must be made to see that they wrong him.”
“ He will not see the necessity,” said I. “ No doubt every one is against him. They will say that his endeavour to make Lynn Yeames a decent member of society was simply a blind—a means of making a friend of the man he fears—a bribe to stay him from
making a claim that he can never establish----”
“ They do say that. Mrs. Caseby herself urged the very same argument.”
“ No doubt; and her opinion will be shared by all the rest of our small society. They will signify that he can send in his bill and discontinue his attendance —these people who have just begun to take him up.”
“ They have. The Langdons, Heathereys—all who were loud in his praise yesterday are against him to-day. Ail, all! ” she said, clasping her hands.
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“ Good,” said I; “ and Dr. Awdrey won't care that (snapping my finger) for them or their opinion. He has too much pride to accept so mean a challenge. He has done without these fine folks, and he can do without them. Conscious of his own innocence, he * will see no necessity to study the opinions of people who doubt him; and, to tgll you the truth, I see no necessity either.”
“ But I do,” she said, with a vigour that impressed and pleased me at the same time.
“ Will you tell me why ? ” I asked.
She looked me straight in the face without blenching, and replied—“Yes.	Because with
public opinion against him-------” she paused
an instant, and then with yet greater firmness pursued—“ he will never ask me to be his wife.”
I caught hold of her hand and kissed it; I should have done the same thing had she been queen or beggar maid, for a nature like that commands homage.
“ That's enough, you dear, good, clear-sighted young woman,” said I. “Awdrey's innocence shall be proved as sure as I am a lawyer.”
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The colour had mounted now into her face, she bent her head, she moved her lips as if to speak, then checked herself. I interpreted these signs of girlish modesty.
“ I know what is in your mind/’ said I. “ You do not wish Awdrey to know what you have told me. Be under no apprehension : a lawyer knows how to keep a secret when it suits him. Leave the matter in my hands, and by to-morrow morning you shall have news of some kind—good news I feel pretty sure.”
I lost no time in seeing Dr. Awdrey; on my way to his house I settled how to act.
“ Well, Awdrey,” said I when we met, “ how is the world using you ? ”
“Pretty much the same as usual—only more so,” he said with a laugh; and then in a tone of perplexity he continued—“I can't quite make it out—I have received three letters to-day asking for my account, and all three have employed me only about a month. I suppose it’s a polite way of telling me that I am not wanted any more.”
“ That's it,” said L; “ and the reason is that you are accused of throwing me out of a gig, and poisoning poor old Fie xmore.”
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"What!” he exclaimed, knitting his brows in astonishment.
“It’s a fact. The rumour is circulating. You’ll have none but your paupers to doctor at the end of the week.”
“ I’m glad of it,” said he, “ if the rest will listen to such nonsense as that.”
“We shall have to take measures to disprove the charge, doctor,” said I.
He laughed boisterously.
“Not I,” said he—“not though all the world believes this.”
“Yes you will, my dear fellow,” I said quietly. “ All the world believes you poisoned the drug Miss Dalrymple had to administer.”
“ That’s another thing,” said he, with sudden earnestness. “You must take the necessary steps at once for having an autopsy.”
“ A post-mortem examination: that will settle the question at once.”
“ Then don’t lose any time about it,” said he.
‘Poor Nurse Gertrude!” he* added tenderly,
thinking doubtless of the affront he had received
being offered to her. Then in a tone of vexa-16

tion he asked: “ How long have you known this, Keene ?” .
"I heard something about it more than a week ago.”
“ Why didn’t you tell me at once ? ”
"Because I thought it merely a scheme to extort money. A man named Bax spoke about it. Have you heard the name ? ”
" No. Who is he ? ”
"A rascal who made the modest demand for two thousand a year to hush up the matter. You have not heard his name ? ”
" No—how should I ? ”
"Through Lynn Yeames. Bax tells me he is a friend of the family.”
"Lynn is no friend of his, I am certain,” said the doctor stoutly.
"Well, Bax is acting with the mother, and has been staying at the cottage with the pair of ’em. How’s that ? ”
"I will go and see Lynn at once. I am sure he is not party to this plot.”
And he went off at once to find Lynn. And not long afterwards I caught sight of the pair in the High
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Street, Lynn with his arm linked in the doctors, and a look in his face that seemed to bid people observe that he still believed in Awdrey's innocence.
While I was looking after them, a colleague clapped me on the shoulder, and said in a low voice, nodding towards the two—
“ Which is the Judas?”
“There can be no doubt about that/’ I replied,
“unless Judas be too good a name for Lynn
__ *
Yeame3.”
* I am not so sure about that, Keene. I don’t like Awdrey’s quiet, long-suffering, martyrish manner. He’s a clever man—ten times cleverer than Yeames —clever enough to make a big venture. If I had to judge without evidence, I should acquit Yeames and hang Awdrey. And I believe if you would only clear your mind of prejudice------”
I would not wait to hear more of such fustian. I had no patience.
In due course I made a formal application for the ;post-mortem examination of Flexmore’s remains. To my astonishment I learnt that the inquiry had been already demanded and accorded: the examination was to be made at once.

“Lynn assures me, and I believe him,” said Dr. Awdrey when we next met, “that he has been opposed to his mothers action from the very beginning. He could not with any delicacy tell me of her proceedings. He himself insisted on Bax quitting his mothers house.”
I have no time or patience to dwell on these trifles: I must at once come to the fact that utterly unmanned me when I heard it.
The examination resulted in this: enough arsenic was found in Flexmore’s body to have killed a dozen men!


They could only shrug their shoulders; but I could explain the matter to them—Flexmore was not murdered at all. The arsenic was found in his mouth, it had not touched the digestive apparatus, and for this reason: it had been administered after the life had left his body. This was the report made by the authorized doctors who made the examination.
Upon this report no one could be accused of murder legally, nor at the present juncture could a charge of attempt to murder be instituted. That the poison had not been given in the form of a potion, such as Miss Dalrymple had been charged by Dr. Awdrey to administer, was clear from the fact that it was found in the form of a powder, and must have been dropped into my old friend’s mouth when his jaw dropped after death. Still, it had clearly been given with a view to destroying life should he recover his vital faculties; and it was equally evident to the majority of people that Awdrey, who knew the contents of the will to be signed, alone was presumably desirous of preventing a return to life, for only a very small minority knew that Lynn Yeames also had a strong reason for making death sure at that time.
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Now, though there was no evidence to commit Awdrey for attempt to murder, circumstances were sufficiently suspicious to enable the Yeames party to contest the will. But I had still stronger reasons than that for getting at the truth of the matter, and fixing the guilt on the guilty. Even the paupers would refuse to take medicine from the hand of a reputed murderer; but over and above all other considerations was the peace and happiness of my friends. Miss Dalrymple’s words rung out clearly in my memory, “ he will not ask me to be his wife.”
I went to work at once, and determined to take no rest until I had secured the safety of poor Awdrey and Nurse Gertrude. My clerk was a sharp, dependable young fellow.
“ Now, Mr. Jones,” said I, “ I am going to put you on your mettle.”
“ Glad of it, Mr. Keene,” he replied eagerly. * Is it this poisoning case, sir ? ”
“Yes, it is. Bax, Yeames’s agent, says they can produce the man who threw me out of the gig, and prove that he was engaged to do it by Dr. Awdrey.” “ I understand, sir. I know Mr. Bax by sight, and Mr. Yeames too.”

“ Yes; well, now, you must find their witness. In all probability that trick was unpremeditated. It was suggested to him by circumstances, by a chance meeting with the fellow who stretched that rope. Who might that be? It was just such a day as a poacher would like for wiring hares. Yeames had been doing a good deal of shooting. A poacher can be more useful than a keeper to a gentleman on the look-out for game. A man of that kind was the very one to suit his purpose. And a man who would do a job of that kind could be easily bribed to swear he was employed by Dr. Awdrey. That man must be found. Now, then, how are you going about it ? ”
“ First of all,” said Jones, after a little thought, “ I’ll find out if any one has been spending money freely in the beer shops up at Bagley ; or whether any one is away—because I should think Bax would get him out of sight. But he must have a wife or relatives about, and the neighbours are sure to Be jealous. May I tempt them to speak with a little cash, sir ? ”
“ As much as you need. Don’t spare it. If Bax has given twenty pounds to get a lie, we will give fifty to have the truth. I see you know your

business—go at it at once. If you bring that man here in a week, you shall have a month’s holiday and a rise of ten pounds. There’s money—now off you go.”
He was hardly out of the house before Miss Dal-rymple came in.
“ What are you going to do for Dr. Awdrey ? ” was the first question she asked.
“I am going to prove his innocence, please God,” I said.
“ Tell me how,” she said, in a tone of entreaty, laying her hand on m^ arm.
“ Well, that is difficult to say. There’s so much to do that I scarcely know where to begin.”
" If there is much to do, let me help. Tell me what I may do.”
“ That is still more difficult,” I said, scratching my ear. “ This sort of work is scarcely suited to you, I am afraid.”
“ Why not ? I have a woman’s wit, and I don’t mind what I do. I carit rest idle. Only tell me what difficulty there is to overcome, and trust my intelligence.”
“ There’s one thing you can attempt, at any rate,”
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I said; "the rascal employed by Yeames, Bax signified that they had a witness in reserve to prove a criminal charge against Awdrey. That means they have got hold of some one to swear to his administering the arsenic. Now that some one must be of this place. If you can find out who it is, and let me know, I may persuade that witness to stand on the side of truth.”
" I understand you. I will try,” she said, but with a wandering look, as though she were seeking the means to penetrate such a mystery.
“ It is an almost impossible task, I know,” said I; " but your sex can talk so fast, and get to the point so adroitly, that I fancy you have as much chance of succeeding as I have. Now I must go off and see Awdrey.”
" I should like to go with you,” she said timidly, yet with earnestness.
I showed her that it would be better not to go at this moment.
“ Tell him that—that I sympathize with him, Mr. Keene,” she said tenderly.
"You may be sure of that,” said I, pressing her hand.

We parted at the door, she going one way, I the other.
“ Awdrey,” said I, when I met him, “ Miss Dairy mpie sympathizes with you.”
“ I am certain of that,” he replied.
"Yes; and you may be sure of something else. If we get this affair settled rightly, you may be the happiest* man in the world, or it will be your own fault.”
“ What,” said he eagerly, " do you think her feeling is deeper than sympathy ? ”
“ I am sure of it, that’s more 1 ” I exclaimed.
" Notwithstanding the doubt that hangs over me— the feeling against me ? ”
“ There’s no doubt in that generous soul,” I said; "and as for the feeling against you, it’s just the thing to endear you to her. Did you ever know the woman who would not side with a man in misfortune, who wouldn’t love him the dearer for his having none to love him but herself ? Here, let’s get to work.”
I pulled out my note-book and, pointing my pencil, said—"Now, you have to tax your memory to the utmost. Your happiness depends as much upon a clear recollection as anything. I must have

an account of every minute of the day that Flexmore died.”
Then carefully we went over the events of that day to the minutest particular, from the hour of his rising until he went again to bed.
What I learnt will appear duly in its place.
It was a long job, necessitating much discussion and verification, but we stuck at it until it was done, then we ate and drank and made as merry as we could. It was no effort to Awdrey; I had never seen him in such high spirits. It was as if ten years of hard work and disappointment had been taken off his shoulders. Only now and then his face assumed its old gravity as the thought perhaps occurred to him that if he failed to prove his innocence he must slip back again into the Slough of Despond.
It was past five when I got back to my office. To my utter astonishment I found Miss Dalrymple waiting there for me, and with her a woman.
Miss Dalrymple rose and met me with forced calm, but I could see that her face was flushed with triumph, and her eyes were sparkling with excitement.
“ I have brought Mrs. Bates to see you, said she,”
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“or rather Mrs. Bates asked to see you. She desires to make a full communication of all she knows.**
I bowed to Mrs. Bates, who sat rigidly in her chair. She was a middle-aged person with a face like a hatchet, and a body like the handle of it. A hard, cold, long woman of the scraggy kind, and just dull enough to think herself sharp.
“ I*m glad to see you, Mrs. Bates/* said I, turning up the lamp. “ Why, surely I have met you before ? **
“ I were in Dr. Hawdrey*s hemploy,** she replied.
I shall not trouble to reproduce all her superfluous h*s, but be it understood she aspirated every vowel.
“ To be sure. Now I remember you. So you have something to tell me, have you ? **
“ I wish to conceal nothink, for I have notliink to conceal/* she said.
“Mrs. Bates has received a visit from Mr. Bax,** said Miss Dalrymple, with a feminine suavity that I could not too much admire; “and she was equally candid and outspoken with him. Were you not?**
“I were miss. I do not wish to sell myself,
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though untold gold were offered. I am an honest woman, and no one has ever righteously accused me otherways.”
“ Surely Mr. Bax has not been attempting to bribe you, maam?” I said, in a tone of indignation. “No one who knows you would try to tamper with your integrity by suggesting payment for information. To offer a recompense—a suitable recompense— for services rendered would be a different thing, but before—tut, tut, tut!”
I knew the woman. She was one of those who are continually fancying themselves suspected ; if they find a lost halfpenny or a stray stick of sealing-wax they will think it is laid out to “ tempt them,” and I will add that women of this kind are the most to be suspected.
“ I told Mr. Bax why I left Dr. Awdrey, as I have told others,” said Mrs. Bates; “ and am not ashamed of owning to it before the Queen herself. And nothing shall make me leave Coneyford, where I am not ashamed to show my face any day in the week.”
“ Of course he would have been very glad to get you out of the way as if you were a criminal ? ”
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“ But I were not going. Dr. Awdrey cannot deny that I gave him warning.”
“ And why did you give him warning ? ” I asked, seeing that the point lay there.
“ Because he unrighteously accused me of meddling with his bottles, which I will take my oath I never touched. The bottle of harsenic layed there marked on the floor. I will not say that Mr. Bax is not right in saying that the doctor let it slip from his guilty hand himself, and wished to put it on me in case of inquiries. I know that he ast me over and over again to stop after I gave warning, and offered a rise in my celery, sayin’ it must be the cat as knocked the bottle down. But I see the trap that was laid for me, and would not stay, which is a mercy, I'm s ire, or I might now be in the condemned cell.”
She rambled on a long while to the same purpose, while I made notes of certain facts, and from time to time exasperated her to further rambling; but when she had repeated all her facts half a dozen times, and I saw there was no more to be got out of her, I rose and said—“ That is enough for the present, ma’am ; but I have no doubt you will repeat all you have said to-day if you are asked to do so ”

She glorified her own steadfastness and sense of rectitude, and so went away.
Miss Dalrymple had sunk into a chair, and met my gaze with a look of dejection. She was evidently disappointed that I had not persuaded Mrs. Bates from her adverse opinion.
“ I am afraid my witness will do us more harm than good. This broken bottle adds to the weight of evidence against Dr. Awdrey.,,
“ My dear girl/* said I, taking her hand between both of mine, “that woman’s evidence is worth a Jew’s eye to us. You have done us an incalculable benefit in bringing her here.”

CHAPTER XXI.
THE INQUIRY.
T WAS not astonished the next morning when my housekeeper brought me Mr. Bax’s card.
“ Introduce Mr. Bax at once/’ said I, in a voice that he might hear.
Mr. Bax puffed his way into the office like an unsound locomotive, and I gave him my hand with a smile. He winked significantly, and stretched out his legs when he seated himself, feeling that he was master of the situation.
“Not quite so much virtuous indignation about, Keene, eh ? ”
“ Tempora mutantur, you know, Mr. Bax; et nos mutamur in illis,” said I blandly. There’s nothing flatters an ignorant man so pleasantly as to imply a belief in his learning.

“Just so; I know all about that,” he said. “Well, now then, what are we going to do about this affair?”
“ Of course we are innocent,” I said.
“You've got to prove that.”
“ Undoubtedly.”
“Well, is your client willing to hand over the trust-money, or—going to fight it ? ”
“ I should not advise him to go to law.”
“ No,” he grunted, with a nod. “ Very wise,
“A lawsuit would drain the estate; at the same time we have the money, and possession is nine points of the law.”
“ The greater reason—knock the matter off at once. You propose compromise, I suppose, eh ? Good job for Awdrey—got a generous man to deal with. Any one else but Lynn would have the lot. Awdrey wants a third or something like that, eh ? ”
“ Dr. Awdrey wants as much as he can get—reasonably. But, before I can suggest any compromise on his part, we must prove his innocence. You understand my position. I cannot run the risk of being accused of collusion.”
too.”

“Prove his innocence—bow do you propose to do that ? ”
“ I suggest that we hold a meeting in this office of all the parties concerned, and invite the attendance of some well-known person—a justice of the peace say—to give the inquiry publicity, and make a thorough examination of the affair from beginning to end. I shall try to prove my client’s innocence to the satisfaction of the magistrate. If I fail, so much the worse for us; if I succeed, I shall be very willing to listen to any terms you may propose/’
“And reject ’em,” grunted Bax; and then, looking extremely sly, he pursued, “I’m as deep as you, Keene. You don’t catch me in a trap. If you get the magistrate and public opinion on your side, you’ll be as saucy as you were the other day.”
“ I sha’n’t be a fool, Mr. Bax. You can withhold your decision as to your final course until you have made terms with me: it is always open to you after this examination—which, as I have shown you, is but a proper safeguard of my own reputation—to contest the will, and take public proceedings. All I demand is a full examination, and some public recognition
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of Dr. Awdrey’s innocence, before I attempt any pecuniary accommodation with you.,,
“ We withhold our decision after the examination until terms are made with you,” mused Bax, with his finger on his nose and his eye on the ceiling. “Well, I don’t see much objection to the meeting in that case. But the poison in the man’s mouth—how are you going to explain that?”
“I may be able to prove,” said I, after a show of hesitation, “that Flexmore feared untimely burial and left instructions for means to be taken after death to prevent resuscitation. I may be able to produce his written wish to that effect.”
“ By George, that’s a clever notion! ” exclaimed Bax gasping approval. “ Was it the doctor’s idea,or yours?” “ Oh, let me impress upon you at once,” said I, “ that the doctor pleads not guilty to everything, and will take no measures whatever to clear himself from suspicion.”
“ He does very well—follow your instructions— leave his case in such able hands—compliments, Keene.” He waved his gloves towards me. “Of course you don’t want us to produce our witnesses— keep them out of the way.”
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44 On the contrary, I shall call Mrs. Bates.”
44 Oh, you’ve found her out, eh ? Hard nut she is. Any way, you won’t want the fellows Awdrey engaged—fellows who tripped you up, I mean.”
44 We won’t bother ourselves about them,” said I.
He rose.
44 Well, I’ll talk it over with the Yeameses, and if they don’t object—no reason why we shouldn’t fall in with your plan.”
We shook hands and parted with mutual hypocrisy, and I got my hat in order to seek the magistrate whom I had fixed on in my thoughts for the service I needed. I felt certain the examination would be agreed to; for, though it might be a ticklish business for Yeames, it was not half so hazardous as opening a lawsuit. He had not the money for such a venture, to begin with, and I knew that Bax would lead him to suppose the inquiry in my office was a mere farce to make me clear in the opinion of my clients; and that, however it ended, he could be no worse off'than in the beginning.
By the time Bax was out of sight, I went off to the Manor House to see Sir Roland Firkin, J.P.

Sir Roland was one of the best known and most popular men in the county; and he deserved to be, for he was a thoroughly kind-hearted and generous old fellow, willing at all times to render a service, and not too stupid to despise advice. He had a reputation for sapience in his magisterial capacity, due to his abiding implicitly by the direction of his clerk, and his decisions on questions of justice were regarded as final. It was only natural that he should to a certain degree share the general opinion with regard to his legal acumen, and I knew very well that the old gentleman itched to dispense with counsel of the court clerks and prove, to himself at least, that he could form a sound decision and follow it up with necessary action independently.
I laid the case before him, and asked if he would consent to preside at an informal inquiry should the Yeames side accept our proposal of going thoroughly into the truth of what may be called the Flexmore poisoning case. He gave me his promise to attend without hesitation, and approved highly of the course I had taken for making the inquiry public, promising that reparation should be made to Awdrey on the part

of his friends and himself should it be found that the charge against him was unjust.
The next day Bax called upon me to say that Lynn and his mother agreed to attend the inquiry, and I fixed it for the following afternoon at three o’clock; for, as luck would have it, I had received just half an hour before a telegram from my clerk, saying that he had found two men who acknowledged to stretching the rope, and had agreed to tell the whole truth concerning the affair. The despatch came from London, and I reckoned upon these witnesses arriving by the morning train which reaches Coney-ford at 10.30.
In the evening I went to my friends, and I also called upon Mrs. Bates, binding them all to be in my office at the hour fixed•, then I went home and spent the best part of the night in drawing up the questions to be put, for I determined that Sir Roland Firkin should be the chief actor in the inquiry, not only because it would please the old gentleman, but because the question would wear less of an ex 'parte aspect coming from him.
The next morning I had my office table pushed up in a corner, and a long dining-table brought in covered

with green baize; all my ink-pots were brought into requisition and a sheet of paper laid before each chair, and the regulation water-bottle and tumbler placed at the head of the table for the president to dip into if the proceedings grew dry.
One thing vexed me. My clerk did not arrive with the witnesses by the 10.30 train ; however a telegram came to say that they would travel by the next down train, which reaches Coneyford at 2.15.
At 2 p.m. I had lunched and dressed, and was looking at my watch anxiously.

CHAPTER XXn.
BROUGHT TO BOOK.
R. AWDREY and Miss Dalrymple were the first
to arrive: they came together—Awdrey with a bright and cheerful smile on his face, and perfectly calm; Miss Dalrymple showing symptoms of nervousness, but staunch and true for all that.
Next came Sir Roland Firkin; we had a private chat in my dining-room, and I put the list of questions in his hand, instructing him as tenderly as I could how to conduct the inquiry. He was mightily pleased with his own importance.
Then Mr. Bax and Mrs. Yeames arrived: Mr. Bax puffed and gasped, bowing to one and then the other with the solemnity of an undertaker; Mrs. Yeames passed to her seat, after a low obeisance to Sir Roland, without recognizing Dr. Awdrey and Miss Dalrymple, except by drawing down her lips and contracting
jy 

her nostrils as she might in passing an unsavory dustheap.
As the clock struck three Mrs. Bates, who had been waiting outside, gave a single bang at the door and was introduced: her courtesy to Sir Roland and her rigidity in sitting down, together with her air of con- % scious virtue, gave her a strong resemblance to Mrs. Yeames—for the reason perhaps that their airs sprang in both cases from a narrowness and vulgarity of mind.
Lynn Yeames came in two minutes later, panting with the haste he had made, and beaming all over with that frank, manly, generous smile of his. He looked round the room, saw Awdrey standing beside Miss Dalrymple, and strode up to him, head erect, shoulders back, and his hand out, as if to say before us all—“I do not share this common ill-opinion of my old friend.”
Dr. Awdrey stood perfectly still, and looked straight in Lynn’s face without moving a muscle, letting him stand there with his extended hand untaken. With a sigh and a shrug Lynn dropped his hand and turned i de theatre.
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Mr. Bax approached the table, put his knuckles on it, and, after bowing to Sir Roland Firkin, said impressively—“ I was given to understand— this was to be an amicable inquiry. The hostile attitude of Dr. Awdrey towards my friend, Mr. Lynn Yeames-------”
" You overlook the fact, Mr. Bax,” said I, knuckling the table on the other side, “ that the onus of administering arsenic to Mr. Flexmore falls upon one of three people—Dr. Awdrey, Mr. Yeames, and Miss Dairymple. You cannot expect Dr. Awdrey, by taking the hand of Mr. Yeames, to imply his belief in the guilt of Miss Dalrymple.”
“A verv nice distinction, Mr. Keene,' said Sir Roland, “ which I think you, Mr. Yeames, must have overlooked.”
This was one to us.
“Now we will proceed to business,” said Sir Roland, taking the chair at the head of the table.
Mr. Bax, Mrs. Yeames, and Lynn sat on the left-hand side of the table ; Miss Dalrymple, Dr. Awdrey^ and I, faced them on the right. Mrs. Bates sat at a little distance from the table; a shorthand clerk I
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had engaged for this occasion sat at the desk in the comer.
Sir Roland began with a nice little speech of course, which included a well-chosen verse from Shakespeare, and concluded with an earnest wish that every one might be found perfectly innocent of the shocking charge which had been brought forward. He then poured out a glass of water, took a sip, settled his glasses firmly on his nose, and, taking up my sheet of questions, said—“ Miss Gertrude Dalrymple, you remember the day of Mr. George Flexmore’s death ? ”
“Perfectly well,” she replied.
“ What hour was it when you first saw him that day ? ”
“About eight o’clock in the morning.”
“ Was he alone at that time ? ”
“No. Dr. Awdrey was sitting beside him.”
“He had been watching at Mr. Flexmore’s bedside all night, I believe ? ”
“ Yes; he insisted the previous night on taking my place and giving me rest.”
“ How long did you stay in the room ? ”
“Only a few minutes—merely the time to learn
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that he was better. I saw that I had interrupted a conversation, and that Mr. Flexmore wished to be alone with Dr. Awdrey.”
“How long did that conversation continue after your departure ? ”
“About half an hour. Dr. Awdrey then called me back, and gave me instructions with regard to the treatment of Mr. Flexmore and the medicine to be given.”
“Was the medicine in the form of a liquid or a powder ? ”
u A liquid. It was a sedative draught, I believe.” “Had you to administer a powder?”
“ No.”
“Did you see any powder in the room?”
“ No.”
“ What happened after Dr. Awdrey’s departure ? ” “Nothing until Mr. Keene arrived. Mr. Flexmore then asked me to leave the room, as he had business to talk over, and I went down stairs.”
“ When Mr. Keene left, you returned to the room ? ” “ Yes.”
“What hour was that?”
“About half-past eleven.”
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•‘Did any one call soon after?”
“Yes; Mr. Lynn Yeames—almost immediately after.”
“ Did he see Mr. Flexmore then ? ”
“No. He saw me, and I told him of the serious condition of Mr. Flexmore.”
“ Did he ask any questions ? ”
“He was very anxious to learn what Mr. Keene had been saying to him. I could give him no satisfaction on this point, and he went away.”
“ He was absent some time, and then returned ? ” “Yes; about half-past one. He came into the room and asked me to leave as he had something to say to Mr. Flexmore. I hesitated, for Mr. Flexmore was less easy, and I warned Mr. Yeames that it would be dangerous to excite him. He promised to be careful, and I withdrew.”
“ How long were you absent ? ”
“ Only a few minutes. I heard Mr. Yeames speaking in a high and angry tone, and I knew that could do Mr. Flexmore no good. Mr. Yeames went out of the house slamming the door behind him, and I found the patient much worse.”
“You attribute that to the behaviour of Mr
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Yeames?” said Sir Roland, straying from his notes.
Mr. Bax interfered at once: he could not allow witness to be led to suppose anything.
Sir Roland sipped water, and returned to his notes.
“ When did you again see Mr. Yeames ? ” "About half-past three.”
"In what condition was Mr. Flexmore then?” "Dying; he was unconscious when Mr. Yeames entered the room.”
" What followed ? ”
" Shortly after Mr. Yeames came in Mr. Flexmore died. When I was sure he was no more I left the room, taking Miss Flexmore down stairs.”
"Did Mr. Yeames accompany you?”
"No; he remained in the room.”
" What was he doing when you left him ? ”
"He was standing at the window, looking out.” "Was there anything peculiar in his manner?” " He seemed utterly unconscious when I spoke to him. I spoke twice, and he made no reply—no movement whatever.”
"What else occurred to your recollection?”
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“Laure, Miss Flexmore, was overcome with grief. While I was attempting to console her, I heard Mr. Keene in the hall; he went up stairs. After a little while he came down with Mr. Yeames; they both came into the sitting-room where I was with Miss Flexmore/*
“ Did Mr. Yeames—er—still seem ill at ease, may I ask ? ” said Sir Roland, laying down his paper for an instant.
"I do not think you may ask that,” said Mr. Bax.
Sir Roland bowed, took another sip, and resumed questioning from the notes.
“ How long did Mr. Keene stay with you ? ”
“About twenty minutes.”
“Was Mr. Yeames in the room all the time?”
“No; he went out of the room, but not out of the house, before Mr. Keene left.”
“Did anything occur to make him leave the room ? ”
“He seemed to have lost something. He felt repeatedly in his pockets, and looked about the floor.
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“Did he continue his search after leaving the room ? ”
“Yes; he had a candle, and looked all up the stairs and in the hall.”
“ Do you know what it was he had lost ? ”
“A piece of paper. He said there was an important memorandum on it, and he offered to give the maid half a sovereign if she found it.”
I glanced at Mr. Yearnes, so did Sir Boland, whom I touched with my toe under the table. The young man was looking at the white paper before him, and there was scarcely more colour in his face. He looked up in quick dread at the next question.
“Was that paper found?”
“No.”
Mr. Yeames drew a long breath of relief.
“Have you anything to ask Miss Dalrymple, Mr. Keene ? ”
I replied “No;” and he put the same question to Mr. Bax, who equally declined to put any questions.
“I shall now ask you, Mr. Lynn Yeames, to give me your attention. You do not dispute the order of events as stated by Miss Dalrymple?”

“ No.”
“When you left Flexmore House, at half-past eleven, you rode over to Mr. Keene ? ”
“Yes”
“You had seen him leave the house, and were acutely anxious to know what his business there was?”
Lynn hesitated a moment, but at a nudge from Bax replied: “Yes.”
“You had been given to understand that the bulk of Mr. Flexmore’s property would be left in trust to you ? ”
“ Yes,” after another nudge.
“The presence of Mr. Keene led you to think that Mr. Flexmore might have altered his disposition ? ”
Nudge as before, and “Yes”
“ On arriving at Mr. Keene’s you were shown into the office, and waited there some time alone ? ”
“ Yes.”
“ You saw a sheet of foolscap lying on the table ? ”
A particular snort from Mr. Bax, whereupon Yeames replied that he had seen nothing of the kind whatever.
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“You are sure of that?” asked Sir Roland.
“I will take my oath I saw nothing of the kind.”
“ When you left Flexmore House the second time, about half-past one, where did you go ? ”
“To fetch Dr. Awdrey
“Dr. Awdrey was not at home, I believe?”
“ He was not. I waited for him half an hour, or thereabouts.”
“Where did you wait?”
“In his private sitting-room.”
“You know that the consulting-room adjoins the sitting-room ? ”
A nudge—“Yes”
“ Did you go in there for any purpose ? ”
A sniff from Mr. Bax—“No.”
“After waiting quietly in the sitting-room half an hour, you returned to Flexmore House ? ” “Yes; I was anxious about Mr. Flexmore’s condition.”
“With respect to the piece of paper you mislaid ; have you any objection to stating what it was?”
‘None; it was a leaf from my note-book, con-
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taming memoranda respecting horses I had backed for a spring meeting.”
Here Sir Roland again asked if we had any questions to ask, and, on receiving a reply in the negative, he proceeded to question Mrs. Bates.
“You were in the service of Dr. Awdrey, I believe, at the time of Mr. Flexmore’s death ? ”
“I were, sir.”
“ The previous night Dr. Awdrey was absent from home ? ”
“He were, sir. He came in about half-past ten or eleven the next morning, I will not swear exact, and he ast for breakfast—which tea and a rasher of bacon I gave him.”
“After that he went out?”
“ He did; about twelve or half-past, I will not swear.”
“You had tidied up his room in the morning as usual ? ”
“I had; about seven or half-past. I will not----”
“You are not asked to swear, Mrs. Bates. Now in tidying up his room, had you occasion to go into the consulting-room ? ”
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“ I never ventured there, sir; though I may be disbelieved.”
“ When Mr. Yeames called, you showed him into the sitting-room ? ”
“I did; him being a friend, as I was led to believe, of Dr. Hawdrey’s.”
“During the half hour he was there did you hear any particular sound ? ”
“An ’awker were crying s’rimps------”
“I mean in the room where—er—Mr. Yeames was sitting?”
“No, sir, I did not; being at my dooties hup stairs.”
“Nothing like the crash of a falling bottle?”
“Nothink of the kind.”
“The door communicating with the consulting-room was open?”
“ No; it were closed, though the key turned.”
“ But the key was in ? ”
“It were.”
“ There was nothing, in fact, to prevent Mr. Yeames strolling in there from 'curiosity—to while away the time that he was waiting for Dr. Awdrey?”

"Nothink; but I believe Mr. Yeames were too much the gentleman to go a-prying and a-peering.” She had evidently a gratuity in view, that Mrs. Bates.
" When did you first hear of a bottle being broken ? ”
" When Dr. Awdrey came in; about four o’clock or half-past. He asked me if I had done it, and I said I had not; and should feel obliged if he would find some one else, as I did not like such things to be laid to me.”
" Did he make any other remark about the consulting room? Was anything missing from there V9 "Yes; he said a prescription was gone.”
" Did he describe the prescription ? ”
"Yes; he said it were written on the bottle * papers.”
" What do you mean by the bottle papers ? ”
"A pile of square papers, white, as stood on the little side counter.”
" Can you show me what the papers were like ? ” "Exactly like that sheet on the table,” pointing to a sheet of thin white paper which I had purposely laid on the table near where she was to sit. " Dr
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Hawdrey tried to pass it off afterwards,” Mrs. Bates volunteered; “ he said it must have been the shaking of carts passing, or the cat, and offered to rise my celery if I would stay. But I refused, seem’ it were not the first time he had laid temptation in my way—giving me half-a-crown to buy a four-penny arrand, and not askin’ for the change till two days afterwards—which I kept it back to prove
“That is enough. Dr. Awdrey, I shall confine my questions to events connected with the latter part of the evidence. Tell me, if you please, what you know about the broken bottle of arsenic.”
“It was a blue bottle, labelled in large letters ‘ Arsenic: poison.’ On going into the consulting-room I found it in fragments on the floor, with the powder widely scattered.”
“ How did you account for its being there ?99 “I believed that Mrs. Bates had taken it down from the shelf on which it stood, and that it had slipped from her fingers in putting it back.”
“ It is false, Dr. Hawdrey! ” exclaimed Mrs. Bates. Mrs. Yeames nodded approval.
“Hush, Mrs. Bates, if you please. Did it not
him.”

occur to you, Dr. Awdrey, that the same motive of curiosity might have influenced Mr. Yeames while he was waiting, and that the accident arose in that way ? ”
“No. It never entered my imagination that he would do such a thing. Had it been suggested to me I would not have believed it, sharing as I did Mrs. Bates’s opinion of his gentlemanly delicacy.” “You attributed the accident to accidental cause ? ” “ Not entirely. I believed that some one had been in the room.”
* Why ? ”
“Because of the missing prescription”
“Tell me about this prescription.”
“It was a prescription, jotted down with a lead pencil on the pile of paper referred to, that I intended to make up later on.”
“It is your habit to make notes on this pile of paper ? ”
“ It is.”
“Have you ever been able to trace that missing prescription ? ”
“No; I have never discovered any trace of it,”
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Here the note under Sir Roland’s hand ran— “Look to me.” Sir Roland looked at me, and taking a folded sheet of brown paper from under my notes, I opened it, and handing a sheet of the bottle paper to Dr. Awdrey, I said—“Is that the prescription, Dr. Awdrey ? ”
I never saw a man so astonished in my life.
“ Good heavens, yes 1 ” he exclaimed. “ Where did you find it?"
“You will hear presently,” said I, fixing my eyes on Lynn Yeames.
Every one at the table looked at him, seeing my eyes so fixed; and, though he continued to meet our gaze, his blanched cheek told the terror he felt.
I carefully handed the sheet of paper to Sir Roland.
“ Why, my gracious, what does this mean ? ” he asked, looking from one to the other; then, catching a significant glance from me, he took up his notes again quietly. “ Mr. Keene,” he said, “ tell me what took place on the occasion of Mr. Yearn es’s visit on the day of Mr. Flexmore’s death.”
“ I was taking lunch when he called,” said I, “ in the next room, before sitting down to make out the will in accordance with Mr. Flexm ore’s wishes. He

had been induced to make the alteration through Dr. Awdrey.”
“Dr. Awdrey wished the will leaving property to him to be revoked ?” exclaimed Sir Roland.
“He did,” said I; and I explained Awdrey’s reasons, and all about it fully. Then I continued— “In the new will the name of Lynn Yeames was to be substituted for Dr. Awdrey’s. I had the draft o£ the first will, and intending to copy it after lunch, had imprudently left it on the table in this room. Mr. Yeames came in here; I was in the next room. You see the blind to the half-glazed door. It is opaque from this point of view; it is transparent from the other side. Standing by the door before entering, I saw Lynn Yeames reading the draft of Mr. Flexmore’s first will. He was at once led to conclude that this was the second will commanded by Flexmore.”
Here Bax protested.
“ I appeal to you, sir,” said I to Sir Roland, “ to say whether my statement is in order or not.”
“ You are perfectly in order, sir; go on,” said Sir Roland Firkin, highly gratified by this appeal to his ruling.
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I was not in order, but he knew no better.
"With the belief that I was making out a will which would beggar him, he went away, and you can see that he had the strongest inducement to delay me and prevent Mr. Flexmore signing a second will."	'
“ Sir Roland Firkin,” gasped Mr. Bax, " I protest most-----”
" Silence, if you please,” said Sir Roland; " I rule that Mr. Keene is perfectly in order. Go on, sir.”
" After seeing my old friend lying in his bedroom above, dead, I went down stairs with Lynn Yeames, as you have heard. There, in a moment of impatience, he flicked his handkerchief from his pocket, and in doing so shot out a pellet of paper. I put my foot on that pellet of paper, and when Yeames left the room to look for it I put it in my pocket.”
"Quite right, too, Mr. Keene; go on,” said Sir Roland in great excitement.
" I put it away in a drawer where I keep things which may at some time be of service, and forgot all about it until my suspicion was directed to Yeames by the discovery that the very day he lost it he


bolted out of England and did not return until Mr. Flexmore was buried, and all fear of the poison being found out and traced to him was removed. Then I recalled to mind the paper pellet—the sheet of paper you have now under your hand, Sir Roland/’
“We will not stay here to be insulted!” cried Mrs. Yeames, rising; “it is scandalous. But we will obtain redress.”
“ I should think so,” gasped Bax. “ Pretty pitfall —’pon my life ! ”
But at this moment, as all of their party were rising, the door opened, and the entry was blocked by my clerk with a couple of rascals whom I knew well enough by sight.
“We’re a goin* Queen’s evidence, guv’nor,” said the smartest of the two, with a grin at Yeames.
“Out with it my man, at once,” said I.
“Well, sir, and gentlemen all, it was like this here—me and my mate was going along with a rope to do a bit of hauling for Squire Long when we tumbled again Mr. Yeames. My mate had suthing to say about shooting. Suddenly Mr. Yeames, who

WE KE A-iiOXN QUEER’S EVIDENCE.
hadn’t been listening like, said he’d give us a pound if we’d play a lark on you, Mr. Keene-”
“Sir,” said I to Sir Roland, seeing Yeames, his
mother, and Bax edging towards the door, “on this
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evidence I ask you to commit Lynn Yeames for conspiracy.”
"Ay, m commit the whole batch, and you, Mrs. Bates, as well. Send for my clerk, and the papers.”
But we could not detain any one of the batch while the commitments were being procured, and so Lynn, his mother, and Bax got clear off. And, thank heaven, we have neither seen nor heard anything of them since—which is the best thing that could	have	happened	for	them and	for us.
# * * * * *
What is there to add ? Nothing but what should conclude a tale of struggle between right and wrong.
Dr. Awdrey married Gertrude, and lost no time over it—I believe as he took her hand in his, when his innocence and perfect freedom was proved, and they looked into each other s eyes dimmed with the tear of joy, it was understood between them that hand and heart were joined for ever.
They live with Laure in the pretty cottage on the hill. Awdrey gave up his practice and went heart and soul into farming, and when he found the land
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could be worked to pecuniary advantage he bought it out, divided it into portions, and let it to the men who had laboured upon it—thus making them independent. I feared the scheme would not pay, but it has to a marvellous extent, thanks to Awdrey’s wise and practical counsel to his tenants. Yet, though he has given up practice, there’s not a day in the week but some one calls to benefit by his skill in medicine.
Laure is now verging on womanhood, and a good many young fellows in Coneyford wedge themselves into the circle of acquaintances with which Dr. Awdrey and his wife are surrounded for her sake. I have my eye on one who I think may be found worthy of her hand. Laure pretends, with a blush, that she does not want to marry, and would rather stay for ever with Gertrude and her children. One fine day she will pretend that her heart will break if she cannot marry.	'
The Awdreys have three boys, and fine sturdy fellows they are.
“They make me feel that I am getting older,” said Gertrude.
“And so much the happier,” I replied.
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It seems to me that Awdrey himself is positively younger for the lapse of time. I never knew a man
more cheerful and bright. It is a treat to see him
with his boys in the shed he has fitted up as a 19	1

carpenter’s workshop. Whether he intends putting them to a profession one of these days, I don’t know ; but it is certain that every one of them will be a good carpenter, which is something. But what most pleases me is to see him with his wife. Sure no young lover, no knight of old, could be more chivalrous; no gentleman of to-day more generous I
THE END.