TALES AND SKETCHES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7923, 30 January 1904, Page 1

TALES AND SKETCHES.

THE IDOL OF THE TOWN. (By WILLIAM LE QUEUX.) Author of "Whoso Findeth a Wife," •>« The ' Seven Secrete," "In White Raiment, "_*i_rple and Fine Linen, lbe :■' . Court oi Honour," ."Of Royal Blood," etc., etc. ______ Bights Ressrvbd.] CHAPTER XXX. HOW I MET HETTY. SHABPE. ' The instant I had deciphered the secret message upon .the marble, I rushedy out of the shop and, dashed as quickly as my 'legs could carry me through the hustling throng In Fenchnrch Street and on into Lombard Street, where I again came up behind him. • Some deep ttnysterious motive was in that j*.<**t ; n*s. between Nigel Clemenger's wife sad the man known as The Hawk. What i« ■'.*♦> iuj, however, I couW not conceive. He walked forward hurriedly, and not with that shifty uneasiness of a ma© who desired to avoid detection. Quite confident of his disguise he turned into Birch's, in. Corniill, arid idled a quarter of an hour over a glass of punch. Then, he took et cab back to Wenlock Street, changed his -■ attire,, and returned again to the Langhaan laithevdres., of -gentleman. This was at half-past five in the afternoon, efld after seeing him safely to his hotel 1 re-crossed London to Mrs Brydetfs, at Kensington, in order to learn the latest regarding Bessie's condition. I found Uffy's wife. still with her bonnet on, having just returned from the hospital. "My poor girl is just about the same," *he told wae, in answer to my eager inquiry. "Still hovering between fife amd death. .The doctor came. and saw her while I ■was* at her bedside, and I could not fail to notice how very, anxious he was. I've promised . to go back at ten to-night." I sighed in silence. My thoughts were too full for mere words. "She still refuses to make a statement, I . suppose ?" Tasked. " Yes. A detective came to- her again' today, but she witt say nothing. I wonder whether it is fear that prevents her?" i The haggard elderly woman in rusty black looked at me, as though endeavouring to' read my thoughts— as though she were in < possession of a clue to the motive of .her' danghter's silence. , •"l don't know." I answered. "It may ba?* '■'■''■'■ • And then a silence again- lell between us.-. ' "My poor child is always talking of you, Mr Holmes," she said, presently, "She is in'- dread lest you should fall into the hands of ; the police for the T mione* affair. A dozen times she asked me whether I thought you had got away safely to' the north again." ./ "I intend to go," was my reply: But you had better teE her that I am quite 'safe, and urge her not to be anxious on my account. Misfortune tmay come to any o^ .ns— just as it has come;,tb her. " "This afternoon She mentioned the name of Clemenger. Have you ever heard that mama before?" _, " Clemenger !" I ejaculated. " What were th. words she 'used? Tell me exactly." "WeH, She had been lying in silence for nearly -balf an hour, Iter eyes fixed upon 'the ceflingj thinking deeply. Then, all • of a. sudden, ihe. hands clenched!, she set her teeth, tightly, and drew a long breath, saying to herself, ' Ah, if he only knew— if he knew Nigel Clemenger.' It seemed such a strange remark, and I wondered if she referred to you." "Well?" "I asked her, but she only smiled, and told me that she had spoken to herself, and that it was a matter that concerned none but her." I felt convinced, however, that her wish was directed towards for I recollected how she had ence suggested that I should call and see Lady Clare, and then, after consideration, had told me to postpone my visit. ■ I -had refrained from calling at Berkeley Square for one very .good reason. Her ladyship was acting in concert with Miles Jervoise, and. therefore could not be my friend. Truth to tell, I had feared to xc- - veal myself to them, knowing, as I did, the intention of The Hawk, and the merciless revenge which he would call down upon as. "■;■•■ ... ■ The attempted meeting ait the tea-shop In Fenchurch Street showed that the pair ivere still in association, and The Hawk's ■ wureful disguise audi the calls which tho Italian had' made at her (home were two facts which went to prove that the game being played was not altogether a straight .one. '■■•".-..' ' '' For about half an hour I remaine_ with . Mrs Bryden...theh. on leaving her, I had a chop at the grill-room beneath the Grand Hotel; — a favourite resort of Jack's — and afterwards returned to Berkeley Square. I wanted to examine the exterior of the house, and to make myself acquainted with its position' and the manner in which entrance might be gained there, if necessary. /It was a fine old-fashioned mansion, differing little.- from its neighbours, save that it bad recently been repainted and the .mokestained brickwork repointed. The double doors were dark red, with kurge shining bodies, th© old-fashioned iron railings were high and painted green, while on each side of the steps which, led to the front door Was a pair of extinguishers used) by the 3_hkmen hi the old Georgian days of wigs, patches, and sedan chairs. I passed and repassed it several times in -the d_r__e_s, for the summer dusk had deepened into night, as it does so quickly In London, the gas lamps were alight in the Square, and the shutters were already closedi From . the basement sounds of servants' gossip and laughter reached me where I stood, and as I waited the postman came, dropped several letters into the box, gave his loud rat-tat^ and was gone again Umost instantly. Loitering there,/! spent an hour in taking in every detail of the exterior, from the disposition of the rooms; and the glass t&se or ferns outside the dining-room wintfows. to the fact that the latch upon the front door was a Chubb's. Somehow I had / a vague feeling that within that house was i- clue to the mystery which held its mistress to such a man as Miles Jervoise, and i-hat there I should also learn the truth, regarding the dastardly attack upon the woman I loved. Have you ever experienced - a similar . attraction towards some root— a strong fascination, from which it is impossible to escape, but which afterwards proves the turning-point of some serious circumstance? This same feeling I have only experienced once or twice in my life, but on each occasion my actions have been " directed for my own benefit by some unseen influence utterly inexplicable. ' So I lingered on, wondering and yet wondering. At length the door in tie basement opened, and up the steps came a Tather good-looking young. woman in black, who, from the manner in' which she. was drawing '' on ;he» gloves and settling her veil, I at . once saw was one of the maids starting on ter "evening out." She passed, close to me, and as she did so looked inquiringly into my face, surprised,.! suppose, to find me strolling up and down. Her look gave me an oppoi-. 1 tunity of speaking; but at first she was >hy, and refused to answer. "Ifc ia too near the houae— eh!" 1 laugb.-

ed. " Well, I shall go on and meet you at the corner, round to the right. I've been wanting to meet you for such a long time. You won't disappoint me, will you f" Her. dark eyes had a mischievous look in them, and as she laughed I knew that my efforts at persuasion were effectual. Therefore I hurried forward round the corner, where to my delight she joined me. :, .■'.'■ As soon as she was out of sight of the house her tongue became unloosened, and as we strolled down to Piccadilly she, in response to my diplomatic questions, told me that she was her ladyship's maid, while I, in turn, explained that I was an hotel proprietor in Hampstead. She was a bright, intelligent Dorsetshire girl. Her name was Hetty Sharpe, and she was the daughter of one of Lord Lyddington's tenants on his - Dorsetshire estate. She possessed all the airs and graces of her class, and, noticing this, I quickly set myself to worm into her confidence. I told her a perfectly fictitious story of having passed ner. in Berkeley Square a fortnight before, and on inquiry of one of ber fellow*servants had discovered that she would be out for a walk that evening. Therefore I had waited for her. This, of course, flattered her. She had intentions of going to see some friends over at Hoxton ; but so cheerful did I make my [ company that within half an hour I had induced her. to let me take her to the London Pavilion, and she sat beside _i£ in the stalls attracted and delighted. To girls of i her class the chance-met acquaintance is. always an adventure^ There is a savour of the forbidden-about.it; and -even tothe woman her _ _er in the social scale the for- , bidden is always attractive. ' She had to 'be back at eleven, or the i housekeeper would grumble, she said ; therefore at ten we left the theatre and I took her to supper at a neighbouring Testaurant, which, strange to say, was close by that 'small hotel where her mistress had met Miles Jervoise. By this time we had grown confidential. I concocted a neat story about myself, and made her believe that her face and manner had attracted me; and she, giddy young woman that she was, seemed nothing loth, to tell m e facts concerning her master and mistress. "Her ladyship is away, is she not?" I asked, presently, bending to her across the table. "Yes; she's been away. for several days. She and her father, the Earl, have gone abroad*; but from what Martin, the butler., tells me; it seems that the yacht they were to sail on, turned out to be a perfect fraud. So they didn't travel, by it. They went to Paris instead." " Then her ladyship is in Paris?" I said, somewhat surprised. "In Paris, I believe." . "Is she good to you?" "Oh, very," she replied. "A kinder and more thoughtful mistress no one could possibly have. Tlie great pity is that she doesn't get on with Mr Clemenger." "Why?" She smiled and looked a trifle confused. At first she did not seem inclined to give away purely family secrets. "Everyone believes them to be so very Happy," I went on; "Ah! They don't know," she responded at last. "If they only bad the least idea of how my poor lady is neglected by her husband,, they would form a very different conclusion, and pity her." "But what's the reason of this neglect?" I inquired. "Surely Lady Clare is one of tbe prettiest and most charming women in London?" -'.;... ' •' ' : ..* ".':.- ..*, ... "Ah!" she said, "the reason is a naystery — a great mystery." CHAPTER XXXI. SOMETHING ABOTJT THE CLEMENGERS. "Mr Clemenger does not love her," I suppose. "It was, perhaps, like so many other marriages, one of convenience?" " Perhaps so," she answered in a low, confidential tone. "Of course, attending her ladyship as I do, I sometimes overhear some strange conversations — words that set me thinking and wondering." "About what s" She looked at me quickly, as though half-fearing to betray any confidence to me. Then, as though suddenly leassured, she said with a smile: — "Well, I really ought not to tell you anything, you know. But of late it has occurred to me that Mr Clemenger is somehow afraid of her ladyship. Once, when I was in her ladyship's dressingroom, which adjoins her bedroom, I overheard her threaten him." "How?" I asked, instantly on the alert. " She declared' that if she uttered a single word it would be sufficient to ruin him ; and that if he did not obey her she would, have no hesitation in doing so." "And what was his reply?" " Oh ! he curled up at once," the girl laughed. "The master can be very hard when anything puts him out, bub as a rule her ladyship can twist him round her little finger, as the saying is." " Then you believe tbat she is in possession of some secret concerning her husband?" '. "I think so," was her reply. "As far as 1 can gather it concerns his business methods — some shady company transaction or other by which a great many innocent persons were ruined. At least that's what I heard in the housekeeper's room the other night. But anyhow she holds the reins." "Where's Mr Clemenger now?" • "Oh! he's at home. Her ladyship is not very often at Berkeley Square, you know. I'm* frequently with her, travelling, staying at country houses or' else at Lord Lyddington's, either in Mount Street or down in Dorsetshire. She prefers the company of her father, the old Earl, to that of her husband. And really I don't wonder. Mr Clemenger is a dreadful bore. Even when who's with him at home, he only sees her just while they're at dinner. ' Tbe remainder of the day he passes at his club, or at the House, or else 6hut up in his upstairs study, poring over his books and papers. No one is allowed in his room, not even Barker, the valet." / "A bit of a recluse; then?" I remarked. "I've heard a lot about Mr Clemenger, but I _ad no idea he was suoh a studious man." "Oh, yes i . Why, I've known him to go weeks without seeing anyone but .Barker. For instance, just now he never leaves his study, and hasn't been seen by any of us for days. Barker carries up his food, and he takes it in at the door, for he will allow no one to cross the threshold. He has a small bedroom leading out of the study." " I wonder what he does inside?" "The servants declare that, he makes some experiments with chemicals— -because once or twice horrible, smells have come from beneath the door and' filled the house. For my own part, I believe he's s perfecting some invention or other for one of the companies with which he's connected." "Then he and Lady Clare live quite apart, even when at home?" . " Oh, entirely. Towards the world they are most affectionate when outside their own house. But," the girl added frankly, "I believe her ladyship positively loathes him." "And you 6_are in the loathing?" I laughed. " Yes, because I know how shamefully he 1 neglects her— and he only a commoner after !all."* I',1 ',- " But when she travels about doesn't he I know where she is? For instance, does_i'fc : he know bis wife's present whereabouts? 1 ' 1 "No, he has no idea of it— and lgjuppose doesn't care." .-'■'..': J "Ah ! a very pleasant menage, I should .fancy." '.

"Oh, delightful, I can assure you," answered the girl, laughing. "If it were not for Lady Glare I'd leave to-morrow. The Duchess of Lancaster offered to take me into her service only a fortnight ago, but I would not leave my young mistress, who has been so very kind to me and my fanuly." "I've heard, of course, like everyone else in London, about Lady Clare and her husband, but what you've told me is very interesting."" " But you won't tell anyone, will you?" she urged, quite forgetful that she had placed confidence in an absolute stranger. 1 " Of course not,"- 1 replied. " You may tru__ me entirely." Then, after a pause, II added, " Oh ! by the way, I met the other <lay a young Italian gentleman who said he knew Laidy Clare. I forget the name. Count Leon — something." " Oh, Count Leonelli ! Of course, I know him. He's very nice, and has of late years been very friendly with her ladyship. He called at Lord Lyddington's several times, and took her out to the Carlton to dine, and a theartre afterward. She told me t on her return, that the Count was a most delightful companion, a trifle too polite, perhaps — like all Italians." '.' Where did they first meet?" I asked, wondering how much this chattering darkeyed maid knew. " I oelieve it was at the Duchess of Lancaster's garden party down at Ascot, about a fortnight; ago, and he's been her chevalier ever since. She calls him her pet dog — behind his back, of course — on account of bis bulldog nose." All this was most interesting, and showed that there was a good deal more in progress than I was aware. " I had no idea that the Count was such an intimate friend," I remarked, in order to allow her opportunity to gossip on. Fortunately, by ingenious flattery, I had obtained her good graces, therefore her tongu e had become entirely unloosened, and, like all maids, she did not spare criticism even upon the mistress who had been so kind to her. Ladies' maids are all alike. A ! little flattery., a little judicious declaration j of confidence, a_id perhap a little tip, and j secret family history at once becomes publio J property. A deaf-mute maid would be a treasure indeed to any woman. 'And yet half the women w_o have maids take them entirely into their confidence; they call them to their aid in the most delicate matters of their private life, and often entrust them with confidential" missions which are "often betrayed in the Divorce Court. They never recollect the hard and regrettable truth that_ although a maid is often a woman's best friend, yet she is more often her most dangerous enemy. How many women in London, I wonder, are to-day paying blackmail to their maids? How many maids marry comfortably and settle down snugly in the country, or take a boarding-house, upon money paid to close their mouths? One maiy always view the sudden matrimonial felicity. of the lady's maid with considerable suspicion. " Does the Count know of Lady Clare's J absence?" I inquired, recollecting how he had called at the house and suddenly let i . himself out again. • "I think so," was the young woman's reply. She made no comment upon his call that day, therefore I felt sure that she was in ignorance of it. '.There* another friendi of. mine whom. l believe is acquainted with her ladyship— a •__• Jervoise." " Jervoise !" she repeated, glancing quickly at me. "I don't recollect hearing that name. But., of course, her ladyship knows a great many people who are unknown to me." Somehow I doubted those words of hers. ■Mention of The Hawk's name had, I was convinced, caused her a start of surprise. Shp concealed her dismay very well, but that' short pause in her reply, the sharp glance she gave me, and the half-opened mouth as she repeated the name of Jervoise, caused me to suspect. "He's a tall, clean-shaven, middle-aged man," I said. "Rather courtly in manner, [ and has a curious slouching walk." But she shook her head blankly, and declared that she was unacquainted with any- [ one answering to that description. | As regards the false Count,, however, she j' was very communicative. She told me that as far as. she was aware the young Italian had never met her ladyship's husband. Her friendship with him was evidently in secret, and yet known to her father, Lord Lyddington, at whose house the young man had dined on two occasions. What, I wondered, could be the reason of that appointment with The Hawk in the Fenchurch Street tea-shop ? That some deep and ingenious scheme of his was in progress was absolutely certain. She had endeavoured to escape the country as a tourist on a pleasure cruise, but, being prevented had returned to London in secret, and apparently fearing detection had; gone to that shop with the purpose of exchanging confidences with him. The invisible message he had written was interesting. Apparently she was in hiding, at some place called . Norman Cross — wherever that was situated. Hetty Sharpe finished her supper, but continued her description of the domestic infelicity of the Clemenger household, and her euolgy of her mistress. The latter was lost upon me. Her ladyship's active association with such a man as The Hawk was quite sufficient for me. When she had concluded, and I had gathered from her a quantity of information, I took her back in a cab to Berkeley Square. We alighted at the corner, and with her. I walked towards the house. "Look!" she exclaimed, pointing to one of the windows on the. top floor, where a light was burning within the room. " That's Mr Clemenger's study — the place where no one is allowed to enter. He cleans it and 'dusts it all himself. He's living up there now; and nobody ever sees him. They say he's going to apply for the Chiltern Hundreds next session, for he's tired of Parliament. Barker- was only remarking at supper the other night that since his election for West Rutland he's never put foot in his constituency, and the people are very annoyed at his "neglect. But therehe's so eccentric and funny that one never knows what he'll do, or what he won't do. Good-night!" and she extended her hand. " Good-night, Miss Sharpe," I responded' ; and, expressing a hope that we mightmeet again when next she had an evening out, I turned and left her. while she descended the area steps to the tradesmen's entrance. I looked up again at the lighted window, and as I did so a shadow crossed the dark holland blind. * • , , Her ladyship's husband was still astir. CHAPTER XXXII. DESCRIBES A\ MIDNIGHT VIGIL. .That night I still remained ip London, in order to obtain further news of -Bess. What the pert maid had . told me rendered the enigma more inexplicable. I quite understood the motive which had actuated the Hawk to follow Jack, Bessie and myself to England, a motive not unconnected with the unfortunate death of poor young Harold Hayden. Yet I could not understand what deep game was being played by Lord Lyddington's daughter. Suspicious of The Hawk's vengeance, I had yet no positive proof of it. Bessie's disinclination to talk was a curious feature 'j_s. the affair. Nevertheless, the knowWjge of. her love for me bore me up against the stress of circumstances, for my thoughts, even in those hours of an- , atiety and concern^ were always of her. A.

I strong eagerness had seized me to live a. I better life, and I knew that oniy she could I' direct me along the right path. All my life my conscience had been dead to the principles of honesty, until now her purity and goodness had led me to examine myself, and to discover what a rank, fraud I really was. I had heard from the pulpit; that there was always a spark of good left in every man, even though he be a condemned murderer. But I had scoffed at such assertion until now, when I had, to my own surprise, discovered that I possessed in. my own heart a desire for reform that I.had believed was lost to me for ever. So, absurd did the idea of becoming an honest man appear that I feared to tell Jack, or, indeed, any other of my friends, lest they should hold me up to ridicule. Next morning, in deep anxiety, I inquired of the hall-porter at St Thomas's Hospital, and was told that Bess had passed an easier night, and was no wejrse. Then, as I returned across Westmifster Bridge, I thanked the Almighty in sitetice, and besought the Divine favour on my behalf. ; I would at that moment have walked into a police station, and have given- myself up for punishment for the Hermione fraud. It was, I knew, the proper manner in which I ought to expiate my sins against societv. Yet within myself I argued whether the mere fact of five years in prison would render my desire to become honest any the mor c keen. I had a long struggle within myself upon this point, and ' arrived at the conclusion that it would not. I was not a religious man, but on the previous night I had, on my knees, asked the Divine forgiveness, and had made a vow to hold aloof from any dishonesty in future.;. To go to prison voluntarily at, the juncture was not my^ ditty. I felt th.it I ought to b e at liberty, to assist andvprotect the. helpless woman who had acknowledged her great love for me. Therefore I walked on, putting asidf all contemplation for surrender. Lady Clare, if she were in London at a time when everyone else who was anybody was Out of town, would probably be living at her father's house; and, therefore, through the whole day I watched the place. Th c blinds were drawn, like those of most of the other West End mansions, but, knowing her fadyship as I did,. I was aware that if she wished to conceal ' the fact that she was in town, the drawing of the blinds was the best way by which to j do it. From eleven that morning till eight in th c evening I waited there, . but without result. Indeed, the going and coming - of the upper servants left in charge^ was ample proof that neither the-> Earl nprUvis daughter were at home. Therefore, after a fagging and tedious day in the heat "and dust of the London, street, I turned away and took some refreshment in an obscure public-house in th c vicinity, for I feared to enter j any of the larger restaurant*..- I longed for a Manhattan cocktail -at the Criterion, but hesitated to go there, for a detective is constantly lurking in that neighbourhood. Piccadilly Circus is one of the recognised " points " of Scotland Yard. About nine o'clock I alighted from a cab at Blackfriars Station, and sauntering;' up Queen Victoria Street succeeded in examining the hoarding where the- messages h„d been written.- Fresh, bills had. been posted, over the' "other..-, only a .few'%oii.s>bi.foso,. for the paste was still damp, and no dots had yet been placed under any of the letters. * It struck me that these messages must be written by night— for the street lamp shone brightly upon the hoarding in question. Therefore I decided to employ an hour or two in loitering there and watching. After a hurried meal in a small restaurant I went out about eleven to commence niy vigil.' To loiter in a city street at night is extremely difficult for two reasons : because the thoroughfares are entirely deserted/and because the city police are so numerous and so vigilant. Beyond the City of London boundary there' is life and" movement the whole' night through, and the loiterer can pass unnoticed — a fact which accounts for the large number of burglaries committed in greater London and the very few within the city itself. Almost as soon as I emerged from the restaurant and crossed the road, I attracted the notice of a constable who, lantern in hand, was on his round examining the padlocks of doors. He had just come on duty, and was satisfying himself that everything was safe. He looked me so well in, the face that I thought it best to pass up Queen Victoria Street at ai brisk pace', and turning into Cheapside to double back by way of St Paul's Churchyard and Ludgate Hill. Tliis I did, making a wide detour. Suddenly, however, while passing beneath the railway bridge at St Paul's station I encountered a woman in a dark cfoess wiua a close hat and black veil. The latter was thick, but it did not conceal from me the fact that its wearer was the very womani of whom I was in search — Lady Clare. She had passed the hoarding to read the message^ — the one obliterated, or the one not yet inscribed? Her gown was plain in the extreme — plainer, indee_, than I had ever seen her wear before. Fortunately I had one of those very accommodating Panama hats, turned down over my eyes a little so that my features could not be readily recognised. Therefore, as she passed she had. no idea that I was the man whom she had consulted! regarding her proposed trip to the Holy Land. . Next instant I decided to follow her, and witb that object made hasty preparation. The coat I wore was one I had bought of the old "fence" in Page Street; a garment much used by London thieves, namely, a reversible jacket, one side being of blue serge, and the other a very light tweed. Therefore, fearing that at. night she would recognise my Panama hat, I retired into a doorway. reversed my coat, transforming it into a dark blue one, and taking a dark tweed golf -cap from my pocket exchanged my hat for it, leaving my Panama -in safe concealment, in ease I were able to return for it. When I emerged, my. outward appearance was entirely changed. I looked more like one of London's midnight workers^ — a compositor, or a fruiterer's clerk at Covent Garden, than the rather rakish-looking man in light tweed and straw hat. She had 1 turned towards the Embankment, heedless of the fact that ifc was not a very desirable promenade for a woman alone at midnight, and before I approached her she had passed the corner of Temple Avenue, and was proceeding towards the Temple Gardens. She walked quickly, apparently with some fixed purpose. She had on a short black jacket with a feather boa, notwithstanding the close oppressiveness of the n: it, and noting it I wondered whether the clothes she wore were not the property of her maid, Betty Sharpe. Both women were! of the same build, and at a pinoh might, easily wear each other's gowns. More thai, once in my adventurous life ' have I known a woman of wealth and posi- ■ tion to pass as a maid, and to enjoy little escapades thereby. Indeed, it is well .known that, a certain young duchess who lived- in London recently used habitually to assume : the role of lady's maid in the evening, and in that capacity met with many amusing adventures. She went so far as to write a book dtescribin« them, but her ducal

family were scandalised at such proceedings, and promptly suppressed it. ' The mysterious actions of Lady Clare Clemenger were L however i not prompted by an v desire for amusement. On the contrary, I _aw by her haggard face how deeply anxious she was. Indeed, the very fact that her whereabouts was not known to her husband was a suspicious circumstance which demanded explanation. The mystery of it all grew hourly more inexplicable. Following* her at a respectable distance, I was wondering whither she was bound, when quite suddenly I heard the footstep behind me of a man walking hurriedly. He had- evidently crossed the road, and I had not heard his step until he gained the ment.I do not care for anyone walking behind me, therefore I slackened my pace slightly, so that he should overtake me. As he drew level with me I turned to glance at him. But as I did, the ghastly truth became revealed. The man was none other than George Shaddock, one of the most expert officers of the Criminal Investigation Department. He had most probably been following me for hours, and had now tracked me down ! I held my breath, for I knew, alas! too well, that my liberty— my liberty to reform, andi my liberty to love my poor little Bess — was now at an end. (To be continued.)