REGINALD'S FORTUNE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXVIII, Issue 8532, 4 April 1891, Page 3 (Supplement)

REGINALD'S FORTUNE.

BY MRS; HARRIET LEWIS, Author of " Lady Roslyn's Pensioner," " The House

of Secrets," " Tho False Heir," " The Heiress of Kgremont," etc.

CHAPTER XVl.—(Continued.)

MAHY's DINGS SUCCESSFUL. Mary arrived in London safely, and took a cab to the address of the policeman of whom she was in search. On reaching it she dismissed the vehicle, felt in her pocket to make sure that her money was perfectly safe, and then, with a beating heart, nocked at the door for admittance.

Her summons was answered by an elderly woman of-prepossessing appearance, whom she asked if the policeman were «t homo.

" Yes, miss," was the reply, " but ho is asleep. He is obliged to rest in the day, to make up for tho wakefulness of tho night."

"I supposed so," said Mary. "It is necessary that I should see him, however, and I beg of you to lot him know of my presence. I have come from tho country on purpose to liavo an interview with him." The woman looked surprised, scanned tho maiden more closely, and seemed puzzled at the singular demand, but she finally said : " Walk in, miss, and I will see if my son is awake. What name shall I tell him if you please?" "Miss Hayward," was Mary's reply. "He does not know my name. Please tell him that my business is of the utmost importance." As she spoke the maiden was ushered into a cheerless little parlour without a lire, and here she seated herself to await the result of her message. The woman withdrew, was absent a fow minutes, and then returning, said : "My son is awake, miss. Ho will bo in directly." It was several minutes, however, before the policeman made his appearance, but when he entered the room his mother withdrew, explaining that her younger children required Iter presence. The policeman was a fine-looking young fellow, with a good-humoured and prepossessing countenance, at the sight of which Mary was instantly encouraged. " You wish to see me, miss?" ho said, with an air of gallantry. "I do," replied Mary, arising.. " You are the policeman who arrested the incendiary of Mr. Westcourt's building " I am, miss." " I have come to see you with reference to that affair," said the maiden. "Mr. Fennes is out on bail."

" So I heard last evening, bub I don't see what all this has to do with me," said the policeman, with a smile. " The trial will soon come off, unless prevented," resumed Mary, earnestly. " Mr. Fennes' conviction depends upon you, as no one else can prove his guilt." Tho policeman nodded gravely. The colour flashed in and out of Mary's cheeks, and her blue eyes looked up beseechingly as she continued : "Oh, sir, I do not know how to approach my errand gradually. I.must unburden my heart at once. If you give evidence against Mr. Fennes he will be convicted ; if you do not, he will be saved. Won't you go away for a few months—only a few month* ?"

" You ask an impossibility, miss," was the response; "I see no way of granting your singular request. If Igo away for a fow months I should lose my position, besides losing my reputation, perhaps. I am dependent upon my wages." Bub I will make you independent of them," returned the maiden. "Do you support your mother?" "No ; she has an annuity of her own. I support no one bub myself, miss. But still it is impossible for mo to consider your proposition." " Do not decide until you have heard me," interrupted Mary. She proceoded to make u plain statement of the facts in the case, detailing how Fennes had been driven into the commission of the crime by his employer, how he had hesitated, thought of committing suicide, etc., but had finally, in a moment of weakness, yielded, concluding : "Ho is only a boy, sir, barely twentytwo. Now, I do not ask you to cheat justice ; I only beseech you to go away for a few months, so that the trial may be deferred. You see, no one would believe poor Wixon now if he should declare his employer's guilt; but I am sure if we could gain a little delay, Mr. Westcourt would in some way commit himself." "There is something in that," commented the policeman, thoughtfully. " Are you the sister of Fennes?" "No ; I am his promised wife," responded the maiden, a soft flush suffusing her cheeks.

"Oh, his sweetheart! And you haven't deserted him when he's turned out so badly There must bo some good in him yet." _ There isthere is!" exclaimed Mary. "If he can only have a chance, I am sure he will bo a good man. If you would away for a while, the trial would of course be deferred ; and I am certain Mr. Westcourt would in some way betray himself during your absence. lam sure, too," she added, "that the merchantintendssomeharmtohis nephew, which will come out during the delay, for Mr. Westcourt should be watched carefully. You see how much good you will do by going. I will give you two hundred pounds for your expenses while absent."

She paused to mark the effect of her words.

The policeman had seemed at first incredulous in regard to Mr. Westcourt's guilt, thinking it a very weak plea on tho part of the prisoner, but when the maiden had described her visit to the merchant and its effects, he could no longer doubt. Ho was a simple, good-hearted fellow, and Mary's tears and " earnestness produced a great effecb upon his mind. Seeing tho impression she had produced, the maiden followed up the advantago she had gained, showing him conclusively that she did not wish to pub off Fennes' trial indefinitely, bub only for a period sufficient to allow tho'.merchant to criminate himself. She showed that Fennes' declaration of the merchant's complicity in the crime would probably only serve to make the clerk's own case darker, and then Mr. Westcourt could suborn witnesses to testify to anything he wished. She said she had strong hopes of making tho merchant betray himself, and wept and prayed for a little respite in which to make the trial.

Her saintly face, her fragile appearance, her devotion to hor guilty lover, her prayers, her tears, her arguments, all moved her hearer to his inmost heart. Ho began by abruptly refusing, then hesitated and promised to consider the subject, and finally yielded, saying: " " Well, miss, I will do as you say. If I'm erring, it's erring on.the side of mercy, anyhow. Your sweetheart shall have a chance to get clear, if my going away a little time will give it to him. But I shall come back again, mind ; so try hard to get a confession out of that hypocrite of a merchant."

Mary's joy at her success found vent in a wild burst of tears.

She sobbed and laughed in a manner almost incrediblo in one of her even and gentle character.

The policeman wiped his eyes once or twice, and made one or two vain efforts to speak, and at last succeeded, saying :

" I'm glad I can make you so happy, miss. As for going away, I've always had a taste for roving, and shall be glad to spend a few months in that way. My mother won't miss me, for she has other children than me. I wouldn't take your money, only I've but little laid by. But fifty pounds '11 be enough." "No, take it all," said Mary, pressing the roll of bank-notes into his hands " I cannot thank you for your goodness." As the policeman looked at the money, he thought that thanks wore due his visitor

for gratifying his lifelong desire to see something of the world, but he did not express his thought. - ; When Alary had sufficiently recovered her calmness she asked him where he intended going. "I don't know yet, miss," was his response. "Maybe to the Continent, maybe elsewhere. I shall go directly, and I'll write you a note when I'm on the point of starting." "And will you also give me warning of your return ?" asked the maiden: The policeman applied in the affirmative. Mary prolonged the interview sufficiently to assure herself that he would keep his promise to the letter, and then invoking blessings upon him, took her departure. She carried a light heart back with her to Fosdick Cottage. After leaving the home station she proceeded toward the cottage, fleet of foot, and with gay snatches ol songs upon her lips. When arriving in sight of homo she noticed a man's ligure standing at one side of the road, and a second glanco showed that it belonged to her lovor. lie recognised her at the same moment, and advanced to her side, exclaiming : "1 thought you might be home by the early train, Mary, and I came to meet you. How happy you look." "I am happy, dear Wixon," returned his betrothed, taking his arm. "I have succeeded in the errand on which 1 went to town." '

"May I know what it is?" asked her lover. "I am sure it has reference to me."

"It has. I have thought, Wixon, that if tho policeman who arrested you would only go away, your trial would have to be deferred. And so I've been to him and induced him to absent himself for a few months."

" What a happy thought, Mary. Perhaps I shall never bo tried at all." "Oh, yes, you will," said Mary, gently. " I have not induced him to go away in order to do away with your trial." " Why, then ?"' " Because I want an opportunity of causing Mr. Westcourt to betray himself. We must in some way contrive to make him confess tho truth before witnesses."

Although such a confession seemed too improbable to expect, Fennes acquiesced in Mary's decision, and participated in her joyAs they entered the sitting-room of the cottage, Mr. Fosdick looked up inquiringly, but the bright face of his ward assured him of her success, far better than words would have done.

Mary was regarded quite a .heroine by both her lover and her guardian, and she was obliged, during the evening, to relate more than once every particular of her interview with tho policeman. Her joyous smile found answering ones upon tho faces of her listeners, and a pleasant unconstraint pervaded tiie homo atmosphere. Mr. Fosdick unbent from his usual gravity and harshness, and Fennes looked happy and free from a sense of degradation or humiliation.

The next day, however, affairs got back into the old train.

Fennes became moody and silent, fearing that the policeman had deceived Mary, and was nob going away, and feeling a sense of indebtedness to Mary's guardian that weighed heavily upon him. He tortured himself with fears the entire day, imagining that Mary might geb into trouble for bribing a witness to absent himself, and that Air. Fosdick regarded him with contempt and aversion. Some of these fears, however, were dispelled at the close of the day. The family were seated at the dinner table, when the servant entered with a letter which had jusb arrived, and which was addressed to Miss Mary Hay ward. This epistle was from the policeman, and was to the effect that, while looking about undecided to what place to proceed, he had encountered an old friend who was about starting for Australia that very day, and ho had been induced to accompany him.

He stated that lie should return in a year, and that ho would warn her of his coming, that her arrangements might be made for tho trial. He added that when she received his letter he should be on his way to Australia. The servant having left the room, Mary communicated the contents of the letter to her friends, by whom it was received with joy and relief.

"He is at sea now," murmured Fennes; and I have a whole year's respite. W hat do I not owe you, dear Mary?"

His tone, manner, and looks spoke more than his words, and Mary's gentle face seemed to ltow holy with her calm, peaceful delight.

CHAPTER XVII.

FENNES' FALSK position. "Then come the wild weather—come sleet or corao

snow, We will .stand by eaeh other however it blow ; Oppression and sickness, and sorrow and pain, Shu 11 ho to our true love as links to the chain." Longfallow.

Wixon Fennes was duly notified that his trial for arson would commence at a certain date, but when the time arrived the trial was postponed on account of the mysterious absence of the chief witness against him— the policeman who had captured him at the door of the burning building. The disappearance of this policeman told in the youn'jr man's favour, many people arguing that the official had fled in order to avoid swearing to a falsehood, and that he knew the unhappy clerk to be innocent of the crime with which he was charged. The true facts in the case were known only to the inmates of the Fosdick Cottage. *As tho week passed on the gentle Mary became more hopeful and self-confident, and busied herself with plans how tho disgrace her lover now bore alone should be transferred to his tempter and accomplice in crime—Mr. Westcourt. To say that Fennes was relieved at tho postponement of his trial would bo but to faintly express his great joy. But he grew nervous and restless, fond of his own room, where he paced to and fro for hours together, and was so moody and silent at times that his betrothed grew alarmed about him.

Whenever a neighbour called at Fosdick Cottage, Fennos would retreat to his own chamber, as if ho felt ashamed to be seen, and sometimes he showed a desire to retreat even from Mary's guardian, whom ho seemed to hold in greater awe than ever. _ It soon became evident to the gentle girl that the first step in saving her lover must be to lighten his gloom and despondency, and give him an object in life. How to accomplish this became a matter of the utmost moment to her, costing her many sleepless nights and anxious days ; but her resolve was at last taken, and she sought an interview with her guardian one morning while her lover was in his own room. " You look pale and tired, Mary," said Mr. Fosdick, as his ward seated herself upon a stool at his foot. " All this excitement is tolling upon you. You do not look so well as you did a few weeks since." It was true that Mary had grown thin and shadowy, and that her eyes seemed much brighter than when she visited her lover in his cell, but she herself was not conscious of any change in her appearance. "I suppose, uncle," she replied, playing with his hand, " that it is because I have been thinking so much lately." " About that miserable young man up stairs," interrupted Mr. Fosdick. " I have been chinking about him, too, Mary, but what to do with him I don't know. I don't think I can have him in the house much longer. His moodiness and restlessness seem to bo killing you." | " But, guardian," said Mary,, gently, " would it not be better to cure his moodiness and restlessness ?"

" How can we, my dear?" Mary hesitated, and a faint blush tinged her poor cheek as she finally said : " Uncle, you know I am promised to poor Wixon."

"I know no such thing," was the quick response. " When Wixon Fennes became a criminal he forfeited all claim to your hand in marriage. This fact must be understood, Mary. I explained it to Fennes some weeks since."

"Ah! that accounts for his moodiness," exclaimed Mary. " I see now why Wixon has acted so strangely of late. He thinks that I have deserted him."

"Not deserted him, my dear; but you are as far removed from him as a star from earth. You can still be his friend and encourage him to become good," " But friendship is a cold substitute for love," answered the maiden, thoughtfully. " He has loved me so many years, uncle. His love for mo is strong and pure—strong enough and pura enough to redeem his

character. He needs sympathy and encouragement, not an occasional letter telling him to try and bo good, but an everpresent and cheering assistance. He needs to feel that he is all the world to one heart —that will never, never forsake him 1"

" What do you mean by all this, Mary 1" demanded her guardian. " Have you not given Fennes up?" "No uncle," was the soft response. "I could notl cannot. To give him up would be indeed resigning him to evil. I know he can be saved if in this moment of his peril he receives the care and love ho needs."

" How quixotic," exclaimed Mr. Fosdick, with a look of annoyance. " I thought you had more sense."

" What if our Heavenly Father wore to give us up for every sin or error we commit?" said Mary, softly, and with a reverent look.

Mr. Fosdick looked rebuked, and as he looked down upon the meek, saintly face at his knee, ho answered with involuntary relenting: h " Perhaps you are right, Mary. At any rate you are unworldly and Christian-like— I shall not object to your keeping up your engagement with Wixon, my dear. It may be a good thing for him. You are young and can afford to wait until he shall have retrieved his errors and become a respectable man."

The maiden expressed her gratitude at her guardian's concession, and she had hardly finished when Wixon entered the apartment. "Just in time, Wixon," said Mr. Fosdick, cheerfully making room for the young man by the fireside. " Mary and I have been talking about you." Fennes looked gloomily from his betrothed to her guardian, and sank into the seat proffered him with a weary sigh. " Come*", you must cheer up, Wixon," said Mr. Fosdick, kindly. " I told you some weeks ago that your engagement with Mary wis at an end. 1 spoke without duo thought at that time. I now say that whenever you can prove to me that you aro truly reformed and guided by principle, you shall have Mary with my full and free consent."

Fennes stared at Mary's guardian, as if striving in vain to realise the kind promise. " Bub before you claim hex*," continued Mr. Fosdick, "your forgery paper must have boon destroyed, and the trial now pending must Have been in some way settled. 1 make no other conditions, not even that you must have money."

" Is ib possible that I have nob forfeited all claim to Mary's hand?" exclaimed Fennes with a burst of tears. "Oh, Mr. Fosdick, I bless you a thousand times for your goodness. Mary—dear Mary !"

He gave way to a fit of weeping, which did him good, while Mary caressed him tenderly and lovingly. Mr. Fosdick was touched by the scene, and furtively wiped his eyes afj ho resumed.

" I have an interest in a mercantile house in the city, and I think I can get t you into it. I will see about it to-day. You see what trust I am reposing in you, Wixon?" The clerk murmured a grateful assent. " Of course I shall be held responsible for your actions," said Mary's guardian, " and I think you will be careful not to involve me in any way. There you will have a chance to reform, ft very Sunday you can spend with us at the cottage here, and Mary shall write to you as often as she likes."

Fennes grasped Mary's hand tightly, promising again and again that he would make himself worthy of her goodness and her guardian's generous kindness. . After some further exhortations, Mr. Fosdick said : " It is possible that your late employer may pursue you with his enmity, fearing that you may betray him. In that case he may show the evidence of your forgery to your new employers, should I succeed in getting yon into the house with which I am concerned. The first point, it seems to me, is to get possession of that paper, which has brought this trouble upon us. Mary," he added, addressing his ward, "can you suggest a plan for obtaining it?" " I think Wixon had better go to Mr. Westcourt's house and ask for ib," replied Mary, thoughtfully. " A straightforward course is the only one that can avail." " I will do so," exclaimed Fennes, with a firm tone and manner. You have given me courage to do anything. I will free myself from Mr. Westcourt's hold this very night. Ho must give me the paper. He promised ib to me for my services, and I will have it."

Mary and her guardian strengthened Fennes' resolve, giving him counsel and encouragement, and he soon became hopeful and cheerful."

The day passed, and after an early dinner, Fennes proceeded to London by rail, making his way to Mr. Westcourb's residence, where he arrived soon after nine o'clock.

He was admitted by a servant, who demanded his name, but he gave her no time to announce it, following her into the back drawing-room, where the merchant and his wife were-seated by a pleasant fire. At Fennes' entrance Mr. Westcourt sprang to his feet, uttering a cry of surprise, and the lady grew pale with apprehension.

"Ah, it's you, Fennes?" said the merchant with an assumption of carelessness, aS" soon as the servant had withdrawn. "How very rash for you to come to my house. Ido not like people to know that you and I have aught to do in common." " Oh, I was closely disguised, and even your servant didn't see my face," responded Fennes. " I wouldn't have come to you, Mr. Westcourt, but I want the pay you promisd me for the crime into which you forced me."

"Pay? Why, Miss Hay ward said if I got you bail you'd never ask for a penny." "She was right. I do nob want your ill-gotten gold, Mr. Westcourt, but the paper by means of which you compelled me to do your will." " Isabella, my dear," said the merchant, turning to his wife, "will you be kind enough to withdraw? Mr. Fennes and I must talk over this unfortunate business."

Mrs. Westcourt rose and withdrew, proceeding, however, no farther than the adjoining apartment, where she took a position enabling her to overhear the conversation between her husband and his late clerk.

" As to the paper you demand," said the merchant, when she had withdrawn, "I hardly know what to say, my dear Fennes. In the present unsettled state of our relations to each other, it would be highly impolitic for me to let it go out of my possession."

" How so?"

" Why, when your trial does come on you may take a fancy to implicate me in your guilt, you know. Without this very important little document I should find it difficult to prove your hatred towards me, you see. With it I can prove your character. your motive?, and all that. It will serve as a very useful check upon you." Fennes could hardly suppress a groan, as he said:

" Bub you promised ib to me." " True, but when I did so I didn't suppose you would be so clumsy as to get taken in the very act of firing the building." " But, Mr. Westcourt," said Fennes, in a trembling tone, " I have got a chance to begin anew in another mercantile house, and I must have the paper destroyed. Will you promise never to use it against me until I give evidence against you !"

" Really, I can't promise," replied the merchant, with a coolness that snowed he felt the game to be all in his own hands. "I decline to make any conditions about the document. What I shall do with it will depend upon future circumstances. But I most decidedly refuse to relinquish such a hold upon you as this forged check is and will be." This answer excited the clerk almost to the pitch of madness. The fond hopes excited by she morning's interview with Mr. Fosdick and Mary seemed blasted, and he began to feel himself an outcast and doomed to an existence far worse than death. He wept and pleaded, but the merchant's heart was hard as stone, and poor Fennes' entreaties only strengthened his resolution to retain the document. " There is no use in talking more to me upon the subject," finally exclaimed the merchant. "I won't even promise not to use the paper against you with the mercantile house to which you are going. As long as you keep my secret I dare say I shall keep yours. You have already betrayed me to Mary Hayward, and probably to her guardian, and perhaps to more per sons. If the mat> A v comes to my ears I'll put this little ps m into the hands of the l aw —gee if I don'c ! You have also made insinuations against my treatment of my nephew.. Now, if I had designs against

him I should employ you to carry them out, since I have sufficient hold upon you to force you to execute my will." " I'd kill myself first!" exclaimed Fennes, springing to his feet and speaking excitedly. "Oh, no, you wouldn't!" answered the merchant, with an exasperating smile. " You couldn't help doing whatever I should tell you. Bub we won't talk any more on that subject, Fennes. I shall retain the document you want as a check upon your tongue, that's all." Fennes used every argument at his command, wept and pleaded, and finally grew as cold and stern as the man to whom he addressed his entreaties.

"Very well, sir," he said at length. " There is no use in my remaining longer. Some day you will suffer what I now endure, but with tenfold power." He turned and left the apartment, rushing into the corridor and toward the door. As his hand rested upon the latch of the outer door, a sudden thought swept through his brain, and he opened and shut it wjth great force, and then glided swiftly up the stairs to the upper landing. Hastening swiftly along the upper corridor, ho seached a door near the front, opened it, and found himself in the private room of Mr. and Mrs. YVestcourt.

Fennes had been in the room once before, the merchant having on one occasion some time before forgotten an account-book which he had intended taking to his business house, and sent Fennes to his dwelling for it. He had then followed the merchant's wife up stairs to this very room, and seen her produce the book from her husband's private desk. Closing the door behind him, Fennes surveyed the apartment. It was a very handsome room, with long, wide mirrors reaching from the floor nearly to the ceiling, their gilt frames draped in costly lace ; with curtains of lace and damask sweeping in heavy folds in front of the windows, with a Turkey carpet, tropical in colours, and as soft and yielding to the tread as a bed of moss ; with a bed forming a luxurious mass of silk, linen, and eider-down, and canopied with a cloud of white lace over pink silk ; and, best of all, with a blazing fire in the polished grate, sending forth a genial, pleasant heat. But Wixon Fennes noticed none of these things. His regards, from the moment of entering the chamber, were fixed upon a large, massive, and elaborately carved desk, which stood near the bed.

In this desk, as he knew, the merchant kept all his important papers, and in this he hoped to find the cheque he had so long ago forged. lie did not stop to reason on the subject, as he felt that the merchant had no right to that document: that his relative had

settled the matter, and had only left it in Mr. Westcourt's hands under the mistaken impression that the merchant was good and just, and would never use the document save as a check to Fennes' wildness and love of company. He knew that by every principle of right the paper was his, and should be placed in his hands, and he resolved to take it.

This was the idea that flashed into his mind at the moment of leaving the merchant's presence. " The forgery, committed in my thoughtless boyhood, when under the influence of evil-minded companions, and never consummated, shall not blast my whole life," he thought, in the moment he paused just inside the door of the bed-chamber. " Mr. Westcourb could use it to drive me into fresh crimes—to embitter my whole life— to kill Mary! Never — never! I must secure it!"

He crossed the floor, his feet giving back no sound as they pressed the elastic velvet pile, and reached the desk. It was locked, and a minute's examination of it assured him that he could not force the lid open. He had no keys, nothing by which he could turn the bolt in the lock, and his heart sank in his'bosom, and a feeling of despair came over him. At that moment a sound of voices in the corridor came to his hearing, and he looked about him like an animal at bay. It was impossible to retreat, and his first impulse was to hide, under the impression that the merchant was approaching. As a door at the opposite side of the apartment caught his distracted gaze, he rushed toward it, opened it, and discovered that it led into a large wardrobe. The voices he had heard sounded nearer ind nearer, and, yielding to his fear of dis:overy, lie plunged into the closet, and drew the door closely. i

The wall behind him was furnished with i row of ivory dress-hooks, and from these iepended a great variety of gowns of every :ashionable material, including silks, which rustled loudly at his touch. At one side he found an array of merinoes and other woollen goods, and behind these long robes he concealed himself, feeling protected by the large pile of blankets in the corner near him, which seemed to afford an additional screen.

He had scarely secreted himself when the outer door of the chamber opened and two persons entered the apartment, conversing loudly as they came. Instead of being the merchant and his wife, as Fennes had feared, they were only two of the servants who had come to look after the fire, light the gas, and make the apartment ready for the occupants. Fennes listened impatiently, while they added fuel to the already large fire and carefully dusted the shining steel grate, lighted the gas, which soon gleamed brightly through the ground-glass globes depending from the centre of the ceiling, and parted the mass of lace and silken drapery of the bed. He seemed to follow their every movement, and hoped with all his heart that they would soon depart, so that he might beat a retreat.

But when their arrangements had been completed, the two maids drew a couple of easy-chairs in pleasant proximity to the grate, and began gossiping about their lovors, their Sunday gowns, and other like interesting subjects. Poor Fennes, in his concealment, inwardly cursed the wild impulse that had led him up stairs in the hope of gaining possession of the all-important paper, and was tempted to rush through the outer room and flee from the house. A little reflection showed him that such a course could not fail to bring him into trouble, and he resolved to be patient, in the hope that the maids would soon cease their gossip. But this hope was doomed to be frustrated. They appreciated too well the luxury of their present respite from work to be willing to hurry back to their poorly lighted, poorly warmed, and poorly furnished kitchen, which did duty as servants' hall, in addition to its other uses. They chatted about then.' respective lovers, their "Sundays out," the prettiest fashion for sleeves, the cook's insolence, etc., and every word they uttered grated with painful distinctness upon the impatient hearing of Wixon. As Fennes heard the maids gossip so distinctly, he feared to stir lest he should be heard in turn, and at times, when the conversation flagged, held his breath until he was almost suffocated. The watch he wore seemed, instead of ticking, to beat like a small drum, and after plunging it between some blankets to prevent its being heard, he finally removed it, cautiously opened it, managed to stop the wheels, and then thust it back into his pocket. It seemed to him that he had been there an age when, at last, he heard the maids spring up, hurriedly pub back their chairs, and pretend to busy with the fire. " They are going now," he thought. " I must escape immediately." At the same moment Mr. and Mrs. Westcourt entered the outer chamber, and the maids withdrew.

With a smothered groan, Fennes leaned back againsr the wall, wondering how he should effect his escape without discovery. He thought no more of regaining, at present, the paper of such vital importance to him; but how he could escape from the false position in which he now found himself ? * [To be continued.]