ROMANCE OF AN INSURANCE OFFICE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXVI, Issue 9425, 24 July 1889, Page 3

ROMANCE OF AN INSURANCE OFFICE.

BY J. MAJRSDEN SUTCLIFFE, Being Passages inthe Experience of Mb. Augustus William Wkbbkr, Formerly General Manager, to THE Universal INSURANCE COMPANY. [AIJj lUGUT3 EKSERVED.] AN OLD MAN'S DARLING. 11. — (Continued.) Tile opportunity came at lasb. At the close of one of the dances Madeline put her arm in Ley ton's and propoeed an adjournment to the garden. Leyfcon wenb in search of a shawl, which Madeline lightly throw over her shoulders, that glistened like old ivory polished to great brilliancy, aud then they went forth into tho balmy air of a wtvrui .autumn nighb. " Let us sit here," said Madeline, when they reached the summer-house, in a distant part of the garden. " My own !" said Leyton, fondly, as he seated himself by her sido and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. But with a quick movement Madeline's lipe met his, and she nestled closor to him until she lay with her head upon his breast, whilst the rich mellow light of the harvest moon bathed her face and neck in soft effulgence of glorious light. Tho air was still, save for the sounds of revelry within the old farmhouse, which Bounded faint like the strains of far-off music—so still that they could hear the beating of their own hearts. "Oh! Tom, if this could only last," Madoline cried, after they had remained for some time in a silence uioro eloquent than speech. And a heavy weary sigh broke from her.

" Why should it not last?" Leyton asked, caressingly. " Why ure you so poor, Tom ? And why must the heart £0 one way and the hand be given whore the heart loves not?" And Madeline burst into a stormy passion of tears at the prospect she had thus conjured up. Then it was true! Tho gossips of the Goldon Lion were right after all ! Mr. Englofield had sought Madeline Robaon for his bride, and she had been promised to him 1

Madeline had often rehearsed this scene with her lover in hor own thoughts, studying what she would find to say when the time came to make the disclosure, and how she would gather courago to say it, and how Tom would take it. IJut whon the time came all her pre-arranged plans broke down. Tho over mastering , sense of love, and the pang at her heart as she reflectetl that those were the last moments she would ever pass with her lover, the last moment of peaco sho would ever know, prompted her to speak as she did. The pain nt the woman's heart taught her to make the disclosure in tho only way that could soften tho blow to her lover and win some measure of his sympathy, even whilst she felt that in his heart he must despi.se her for her pusillanimity. Madeline continued to weep convulsively, and it was long before Loyton could calm her suilicientlv to loa.ru the story from her lips. She to l<l him at length, amidst many sobs and tears, whilst her bosom recked nothing of the night air that played upon it, and heaved wildly with the violence of hor emotions. It was the old story, more often enacted in real Ufa than many readers will perhaps bo disposed to think—a marriage of roncenancn ; redemption from all the sordid cares of poverty at the sacrifice of a daughter's happiness. Not at first had Madeline consented. Mr. Robson had reasoned persuasively, commanded, threatened, and wept by turns ; but not until the old man went on his knees before his own child had Madeline faltered in tho firm negative that she had given to her father's proposal. Then at the sight of the old man, with his long snowy locks waving to and fro in the agitation with which he besought her, whilst the tears rained down his cheeks, to step in between him and despair and earn his lasting gratitude- and his dying blessing, had she succumbed and given her word at last. Even then her consent was made conditional : that Mr. Engletield .should be told that she was already pLighted to Tom Ley ton, and that she should be allowed to tell him herself.

" And you did tell him?" asked Ley ton, hoarsely. "I did, indeed, Tom. I told him that I loved you and that 1 did not and could not love him, for 1 should love you always."

" And what did lie suy ?" said Tom. " He paid that he thought more highly of me for the confession, and that he was quite aware of the sacrifice I was making , , but that lie didn't doubt that so good a daughter would make an excellent wife." " Anything else ?" asked Tom, bitterly. "Oil, Tom, I don't deserve your anger, though I mustsoem in your eyos vory wicked. Believe me that I have stood out against it as long as I could, but there is no help for it—none. Oh, why was I ever born?" And Madeline's tears broke forth afresh whilst .she covered the hand of her lover with passionate kisses. Lcyton ro.se at last and made as though he would go. Aladelitie flow to his arms with a bitter cry, and as the light shawl that she was wearing fell from her, Tom gathered her to hid breast and kissed her —kissed her on brow and cheeks and lips, kissed her shoulders and neck—and then tore himself away. With one powerful wrench he had released himself from her embrace and Hung her aside and was gone. The .still evening air heard the sound of a bitter, mocking laugh as he went. But Madeline heard it not.

An hour afterwards search was made for her, and she was found where Tom had left her, too stunned to think, or to realise what had happened, conscious only of a dull, dead pain at her heart. A month later Madeline went forth from the fine old church at Chelderton Magna on the arm of her husband. Madeline Robson had become Madeline Engletiold. As the joy bells rang out their merry peal, Tom Leyton gnashed his teeth with bitter despair and savage anger, vowing to himself that the day would come for vengeance on the man that had robbed him of his promised bride.

"When that day comes I will have my vengeance, and will not spare," ho muttered to himself. " lie has won her, but he shall not keep her. Ho is proud as Lucifer, and I swear before God to bring his pride low. ' An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, , as the old law .says. All that I suffer now he shall suffer too —and more—for to his suffering shull be added shame —shame !" he added, fiercely. Even as he spoke his sternly rigid mouth relaxed into a sinister smile, as a light broke across his mind, kindled by the reviving touch of memory. He saw before his mental vision tho worn, aged face of Georgo Osborne's father, and that other face so strangely like. Theresombianco had baflled him before, but he know it now, and in the bare act of memory he saw the germ-idea of possible vengeance later. But, as it turned out, Tom Ley ton, in his schemes of vengeance, "reckoned without his host." For though circumstances so far favoured him, that within twelve months of her marriage to the wealthy banker at Chelderton, Madeline Englefield became Madeline Leyton, the Higher Vengeance that sometimes seems to sleep was not slowto avenge the sin ; and partly by the activity displayed by that enterprising private inquiry agent, Mr. Doggett, and partly by a curious network of circumstances, justice was enabled to take count of a heartless and cruel crime. 111. On a bright spring morning in the year following the fall of Sebastopol, Mr. Webber was seated in his room in the ofliees of the Universal Insurance Company, in Cannonstreet, buried in deep thought. His face wore an anxious, puzzled look, as though his mind was occupied in an abortive attempt to thread a way through the complexities of a difficult question—as indeed was the case. "There may be more in this than meets the eye," lie murmured to himself, after sitting for some time in apparent abstraction from his surroundings. "It may prove a matter for our inquiry agent. I will have i Doggett here, and see what he thinks about it."

" I have jusfc heard a singular story," Mr. Webber said, when the detective appeared in answer to his summons. " A gentleman named Osborne—a medical man, I understand —who has just returned from Scutari, where he hae been for many months ill in the hospital, has boon making a tour of the

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insurance offices, as ho tells me, to inquire whether insurances have been effected at any time on the life of Mr. Christopher Engiefield, formerly a banker at Great Chelderton. Here is his card," handing tho bit of pasteboard to Doggett. Tho card was neacly engraved with the name of Mr. Webber's visitor, aud, pencilled in the left-hand corner, was the name; of the hotel he was stopping at. This is what Doggett read :— George Osborne, M.D., F.R.C.S., Woods Hotel, Holborn." " It is now nearly three years we paid some very heavy claims on Mr. Englefield's life to his executors," Mr. Webber continued; " but, of course, I declined to satisfy Dr. Osborne's curiosity in any way until ho hud informed me his reasons for makiug inquiry. The story he had to tell me was so extraordinary that my roservo melted away, aud I felt it my duty to satisfy him, on the main point at any rate. " It appears that Dr. Osborne went to the East at the outbreak of the Russian war, leaving behind liim his father, verging upon his dotage, and a little child, a motherless girl I believe. They resided at some village down in Berkshire, the name of which has escaped me—it is not very material to the Btory. Before setting out Dr. Osborne made his will, appointing a friend—a man named Leyton—practising as a veterinary surgeon at Great Chelderton, his executor, who promised to keep a watchful care over their interests until his return. Osborne came back in tho early part of the year, and on going to the Berkshire village could discover no trace of his father or child. He declares that he was not surprised at that, since he hardly expected to find old Mr. Osborue alive, and it was understood that in the event of tho old gentleman's death the child would be taken care of by Leyton." " Had the friends not corresponded ?" Doggett asked, his keen, glittering eye denoting intense interest in what promised to b e _f r om the detective's point of view—an interesting case. "There had been some correspondence, but it was broken oft'. The reason for this was not assigned by Dr. Osborne. To come to the of tho story, Osborne goes down to Chelderton, where instead of finding his friend practising as a, veterinary surgeon, he discovers him in full feather as a wealthy landed proprietor. Leyton, it turns out, has married the widow of Englefield, the banker. Now for the point. When Osborne called at Chelderton Manor, where Leyton is living in grand style, his whilom friend, after displaying considerable agitation, professed not to know him—in fact, avowed total ignorance of Osborne, his father, and his child." " This gets very interesting," said Doggett, as Mr. Webber made a pause in hia narrative. "But this is not all," replied Mr. Webber, continuing his story. "It so happened that at this moment Osborne's little girl came into the room where the two men were sitting. Ho recognised her at once, from her likeness to her dead mother. Even, as he says, if his memory had proved unable to retain the child's lineaments, the likeness was too unmistakable to admit of a doubt. Unhappily the child's memory was noc equally retentive, and she ran away frightened from the strange visitor. Leyton stoutly denied that the child was Osborne's, and finally put an end to further discussion by threatening to have him turned away from his door. ' " What a splendid villain," cried Doggetfe, in nil outburst of admiration. " Before Osborne left," resumed _ Mr. Webber, " he made mention of his will, in which he had appointed Leyton trustee and guardian to the child, but Leyton stoutly declared hi- entire ignorance, and affected to think Osborno mad. On inquiry at Doctor's Commons Osborne can hud no trace of hi.s will having been proved. He then paid another visit to Sonning, in Berkshire—ah ! that is the name of the place, 1 had forgotten it—but cannot find his father's name in the burial register ; nor can he obtain any information when the old man died, or when his child was removed. He is, therefore, in this curious position—of wanting to claim his child, whom Leyton absolutely refuses io recognise as his, and, except himself, there is no witness to her identity. And he is anxious to learn where his father is living, if alive still, and where he lies buried if he is dead. Ho has employed detectives without result." " ignite too intricate a case tor Scotland Yard," said Doggott, with a grim senile. ''Sα it seems," said Mr. Webber, " for whilst they buoy the poor man up with all kinds of hopes, tho solution of the mysterious proceedings of this man Leyton is no nearer than when tho case was put into their hands. Osborne, very naturally, argues that Ley ton can only have the most disgraceful reasons for repudiating an ancient friendship. He says he cannot account for tho effrontery of the whole proceedings except out of anxiety on Leyton's part to conceal some gigantic fraud ; and he even goes so far as. roundly to hint at murder. After turning the matter over in his own mind, lie comes to the conclusion that a gentleman in Mr. Englefield's position might in all probability turn out to have insured his life heavily, and, imagining that to be tho case, he jumps to the conclusion that if lie could discover any otlice in which Mr. Engleriold whs insured the insurance company might be induced to share his suspicions and make common cause with him ; for, though not exactly a poor man, lie has no money to spare. Now tell me what you think, Doggett." " 1 am quite ready to do your bidding," said the detective.

" Then you think wo should take up the case?" asked Mr. Webber.

" 1 do, most emphatically." " Well, you have Dr. Osborne's card with his address ; perhaps you had better see him and question him further. Jf, after that, you still think that you should go on with the case, you can do so. If we are the victims of fraud it is worth fighting about, for Mr. Englciield took out several policies with us, and it is a good, big sum that is at stake."

Doggett lest no time in seeking an interview with Dr. Osborne at Wood's Hotel, whom he found gaunt and haggard and prematurely aged, but with traces of great physical beauty .still remaining from the havoc which long-continued sickness had wrought. He had been twice wounded, he oxplained to the detective, whilst engaged on his mission of charity to the wounded, once smitten with cholera, and finally struck clown with enteric fever, from which he had emerged more dead than alive.

" Have you ever to your knowlcdgo been reported for dead?" inquired Doggott, after he had heard .from Dr. Osborne's own lips the story which in its outlines Mr. Webber had already told him.

"It may be so. I have not inquired." "Ah!" said Doggett, with a significant sniff, pencilling down a note in the little book he carried with him. "Wo must have the newspaper files searched." Then, after a brief consideration, he asked again, " You say that Mr. Leyton preserved a perfectly calm manner throughout your interview with him ''."

"Perfectly. He was evidently discomposed at first when I announced my name— I hud to do that, you understand ; for this last illness lias made me look so like an ourang-outang that my own mother would not know me. lie turned white to the very lips when I told him who I was, and 1 thought he made a movement as though to take me by the hand, and then suddenly arrested it. But he quickly recovered himself and soon showed that with a face of brass he possessed nerves of steel. We got angry at last, and then he threatened to call his grooms and evict me from the premises."

" Have you consulted any solicitor?" "I have—two. They told me that I could proceed against him by a writ of habeas corpus to recover the child, but I wus opposed to that for the same reason that they recommended it. They thought he would get frightened. So did I. They thought that in his fright he would surrender the child rather than fight the matter out in a court of law. I didn't. I thought he would be more likely to take to his heels and carry the child with him. It can make no difference to him whether he lives in England or on the Continent, and I am physically too weak to enter upon a chase of that kind. No doubt he sees death written in my face —which is true— and thinka he can wear me out, and win by waiting, in an.attitude of defiance." " Your policy is perfectly sound, in my humble judgment," said Doggett. "Ic is like deer-stalking, in a case like this. We must lie low until our quarry is well within range, and a single shot can bring him down."

"I think so," said Dr. Osborne, " so I have been going quietly to work with the assistance of detectives. Too auieblv." he

added with a sardonic einile; " tho science or art of detection—which do you call it ? —seems to rank amongst the lost arts in England hero. Your detectives discover nothing un'ess it is right under their noses." "The remark is generally true," said Doggett, " but there are exceptions." "I meant no offence," said Dr. Osborne, apologetically. "And none is taken," the detective replied, promptly. The conversation between Doggetb and Dr. Osborne lasted far into the night, by which time Doggett thought he saw his way to a path thab would lead him in sight of his quarry. Reluctantly enough, he had been brought to consent to share his counsels with Dr. Osborne, and to make him his companion in his journeys. The detective felt that the presence of the doctor might occasionally prove embarrassing, but he could not resist the pleading of the sick man and the pitiful, yearning look in his eyes, as he implored the detective to treat him like a comrade, in commiseration for his feelings as a father, and the fever which consumed him whilst sitting still, doing nothing. If ever Doggett saw death written on a man's face he thought he saw it in Osborne's, and fearing , that enforced inactivity might only hasten the catastrophe, he yielded, stipulating, however, that when they went down to Chelderton next day Dr. Osborne should submit to go there disguised, lest his presence in the little town should get wind and, reaching Mr. Leyton's ears, startle the game.

What was Mr. Leyton's motive for repudiating his former friendship with Osborne and disputing claim to the possession of his little daughter, whom he had entrusted to his care before setting out for the East ?

This was the question which occupied Doggett's mind as he journeyed to Chelderton Magna the following day with the doctor, who, after a troubled night's rest, looked more wan and cadaverous than before. The detective felt that nothing short of being driven by the pressure of some overmastering sense of danger could have impelled Leyton to enter upon a step so desperate, and one involving so many risks. Nothing but some inexorable necessity born of danger, from which it was necessary to protect himself, could account for a proceeding so heartless and cruel. From Osborne's narrative of the reception ho encountered at the hands of his friend, it was evident that his reappearance was as undesired as it was unexpected. Some scheme of Leyton's affecting his liberty, if not his very life, mueb have been pub in serious jeopardy by the doctor's unlooked-for return, and that scheme must have reference to the past and not the present or the future. It was impossible to place any other interpretation on Leyton's emotion when Osborne announced his name on finding himself unrecognised by his friend, and declared his errand. The manoeuvre he had adopted, of professing ignorance of Osborne, his father and his child, must have been a device seized upon the instant to guard some secret winch, if brought to light, would probably land Mr. Leyton within four walls of a prison cell. But what could be the nature of Leyton's crime? Here the detective, with all his trained instinct, was at fault. He could not conceive what that crime could bo which depended for its secrecy on turning George Osborne away from his door and retaining possession of another man's child. Had he neglected the old man, whose interests he had promised to take care of and watch over during Osborne's absence in the East ? Or had he from mercenary greed disposed of his corpse to the body snatcher for filthy lucre's sake, and unable to point to the place where the old man lay buried, was he afraid thab his incredible meanness would be brought to light now? Or was his motive after all a more innocent one ? Had ho grown fond of the child and adopted this device to retain possession of her? Doggett asked himself these questions only to dismiss them as too improbable to be true and insufficient to explain Leyton's heartless proceedings. The more he turned over the problem in his mind the more tangled and inexplicable it became. Osborne, who knew nothing of Leyton's history since he had parted from him four years before, except the bare fact that he had married a rich young widow and set up for a country gentleman, could lend no assistance, and Doggett, utterly at fault to find a clue, was compelled to content himself with hoping that their visit to Chelderton might tend to throw some light on the matter.

He had decided as a first step to visit Chelderton, from a conviction that there if anywhere something in the nature of a clue might be found, since Dr. Osborne had visited Sonning without discovering anything that could shed light on his father's fate and the removal of his daughter from the home in which ho had placed the old man and his little child.

On the arrival of the two travellers at Chelderton Magna they made their way to the Golden Lion, where also they made the acquaintance of old John Lovatt. 41 Talkative old fellow that," said Doggett to his companion when they had been shown to a private sitting-room. " When the bar is closed to-night, I must have a chat with mine host and see what can be made of him."

Bub it so happened that there was very little necessity to put John Lovatt's conversational powers into requisition. For, on arriving at the inn, Dr. Osborne pleaded to be allowed to rest for an hour or so before beginning on the business which had brought them down. Doggotb availed himself of the opportunity to make a preliminary acquaintance with the town, and crossing the market place, in which the Golden Lion was situated, he threaded his way through a long winding-street, flanked on both sides with half-timbered houses and shops, and presently found his feet turned in the direction of the parish churchyard. Here he stumbled upon the sexton, who was busily employed in turning over the rich red soil in preparation for a grave. You have a fine old church here," said Doggetb. " So I have heard said before," replied the sexton, pausing in his task and leaning on his spade. " There beaut a liner old church in the county. Perhaps you would like to see it," he added, with an eye to the customary shilling. " I don't mind if J. do," Doggett replied. The sexton carefully scraped the red earth from his shoes, and having donned his coat, produced a large bunch of keys and led the way up the path to the church door, which swung back heavily upon its hinges as he shot back the ponderous lock. The sexton proved to be an unusually intelligent man for his class, though suffering from the vice of excessive garrulity, which commonly afflicts the guide tribe, go where you will. But the old man had a fund of information at his disposal, and was well read in tho history of the county families, who for generations past had worshipped within the time-worn sanctuary until their turn came to be laid at rest in the vaults beneath the long broad nave, leaving no trace behind them, beyond what was to be found in sculptured effigy and marble bust.

"What have we here?" said Doggett, pausing before a massive piece of work in white marble, let into tho wall, whose newness contrasted with the hoary walls of the venerable building, and the dun-coloured elligies around.

"That is a monument erected to the memory of the late Mr. Christopher Engleh'eld, who was a banker in this town, and who owned the Manor House, where he resided until the day of his death. He —"

" ' Erected by his sorrowing widow,' I perceive, remarked Doggett, interrupting the old man in his flow of talk, and quoting from the inscription which commemorated the late Mr. Englefield's virtues. "So it says," said the sexton ; "though some people do say that there is a good deal too much marble for so little grief."

Doggett was too keenly alive to the iuterests of his mission to Chelderton to interrupt the old man further, and encouraging him to proceed with his story, the sexton went on to tell of Madeline Robson's engagement to Tom Leyton, and how she subsequently threw him over to marry Mr. Englefield. " Poor old gentleman, he did not live long after that!" the sexton continued. "He was called home to Chelderton whilst on his honeymoon in consequence of a run on the bank. Nobody knew who sot the rumour about at the time, and nobody knows to this day. There was no sense or reason in it, for the Englefields were ' as safe as the Bank of England,' as the saying is. But what can you expect when a story like that gets abroad. People heard that En<£lefields wore going to emaeh, and one

morning when the bank opened the whole town was at the doors, and as the day went on they came from far and wide to get their money out. They never stopped to reason about it; nob they. The bank held out until long past the usual hour of closing, and at last they managed to get the doors closed. But those doors were never opened again. The bank was compelled to call on its reserves—that is the word that was used —and in Mr. Englefield's absence the reserves could not be got at. They were obliged to telegraph for him, and he came in hot haste from Rome, travelling night and day to save the bail's credit. But ifc was all no good. He reached the bank parlour only to drop down in a fit. Apoplexy, the doctors called it; but it turned to softening of the brain. What with the shock and hurry of his journey, he never rallied, but died six months to the very day he was married to Miss Robson."

" Dear me, how sad !" Doggett softly murmured. " Does that end the story ?"

" Not quite. Jusb twelve months after Miss Robson became Mrs. Englefield— twelve months to the very day—she married her old flame, 'Tom Leyton, the vet.,' as everybody about here called him. It made a lot of talk, as you may imagine—her marrying again so soon after her husband's death. There were some folks who said that Tom Ley ton—or Squire Leyton as they call him now—did not look a very happy man on his wedding-day, but triumphantlike, as if he had won a sort of victory over the dead man lying in his grave. There was something like a gleam 01 malice in his eyes that had an ill look about it—l noticed that myself—and there were folks who even went so far as to say that it was he and no other who set about the rumour that killed poor Mr. Englefield." "Did he—Mr. Englefield I mean—die here ?" asked Doggett. " He died close by—at the Manor House, where he was born and where he had lived all his life. You may see the tops of the chimneys behind the trees from the churchyard." " And jou say the bank never opened its doors again ?" pursued Doggett. "Never. There were some proceedings in bankruptcy, but when Mr. Englefield's affairs were looked into after his death there was enough to pay everybody in full and leave his widow a rich woman besides." " I suppose now there were no children of the marriage," said Doggett. " No, and there has been none by the second. They have a little child living with them, a bonnie little lass." "Indeed, and who may she be?" said Doggett, pricking up his ears. "She's an adopted child of Mrs. Leyton's." " And by what name may this child be known '!" asked the detective, beginning to think that the end of his quest was near at hand. " They call her Madeline Robson. Thab was Mrs. Leyton's name before she became Mrs. Englefield." The answer was so unexpected that the detective, though usually of most imperturbable manner, was thrown off his guard. For the moment be was fairly nonplussed, and if the sexton had been an observant man, his suspicions must have been aroused by the detective's manner.

" What a singular thing to do !" he cried, in an outburst of astonishment. Then, after a moment's consideration, during which he let the old sexton talk on unheeded, he asked again : " Is it long since Mrs. Englefield adopted tho little one?"

" It was very soon after her first marrriage—perhaps about three months before her husband died."

"What a queer thing for a young married woman to do," said the detecthe, craftily subjecting the garrulous old man to an unconscious vivisection.

" Yee, some would call ib strange," observed the man, " but it is not so odd as ib looks. You see when Mr. EngleSeld began to recover a bit from his stroke it was thought, a change of scene might do him good. Mrs. Engletield went with him and took up the little one just to brighten herself up a bit. It was very dull for her, waiting on a sick man half out of his mind, and she was but. a young thing herself, and could not tell how long the old gentleman might live in that silly, childish way of his." " Then, I supix>se, when Mrs. Engletield brought her husband home he came back to die, and she brought the child with her."

" That was just it," said the sexton. The detective lingered some time longer without adding , materially to the stock of his information. But he had obtained possession of a body of facts which he was not slow in weaving into a working hypothesis on which he depended for the solution of Leyton's strange conduct; and slipping a half-crown into the sexton's hands, lie took his way down the churchyard path, inwardly chuckling. After the bar was closed that evening ab the Golden Lion Doggett held a long conversation with old John Lovatt. The gossipy old Boniface proved an easy man to draw in the hands of a skilful crossexaminer like Doggett, and before the two parted for the night honest John, who dearly loved to hear himself talk, had completely unbosomed himself of all he knew. He added some unimportant details to the sexton's account, but of most interest to Doggett was to hear the story of Martin liobson's financial difficulties, and how he had emancipated himself at the price of his daughter's happiness, and how, in John Lovatt's own words, "Tom Leyton went on terribly, and swore he'd be revenged." Dr. Osborne rose the next morning refreshed after a sound healthy sleep. He had taken a. great fancy to Doggett, and somehow the detective's presence acted upon him like a charm, soothing his mind and tranquilllsing his nerves. He was now informed of the particulars which Doggett had gleaned, and declared himself ready to leave (Jhelderton at once and accompany the otlicer in his next step —to discover the movements of Mrs. Englefield when she was in search of change of scene with her sick husband. " Mind I do not say that it is all plain sailing even now," said Dojrgett warningly, in a tone that indicated anxiety lest his theory of the proceedings of Leyton and his wife should raise premature hopes in Osborne's mind. " She will probably prove a difficult woman to follow up, but sooner or later I undertake to conduct you to your father's grave and restore your child to you." [To be continued.]