The Uncle of my Niece.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIII, Issue XV, 7 October 1899, Page 614

The Uncle of my Niece.

I By

MAJOR A. MOBERLY.)

A telegram for you, sir,” said

Phipson. "Who from? Open it, can’t you?” J answered impatiently, for 1 was struggling with the buckle at the back of my black satin stock, and iny G.O.M. collar embarrassed me. “From Brighton, sir—Lady Be-

linda ” “Oh, let aunty' keep till we get back again. I’ve enough on my mind just now. Now then —that waistcoat.”

Phipson held it out, stiff, starched, and huff-coloured, like Mr Dombey’s wedding garment. "This won’t do, you know. These buttons meet too freely. 1 must have another bath towel on.” Phipson backed away a few feet, and took a careful view of my contour. “No, sir, if you will excuse me. It would be a mistake. Another inch and you degenerate into low comedy. As it is, there is a touch of farce about those collars,” and he sighed regretfully. 1 gave in to I’hipson —I always do; and was put into the blue frock coat, massive watch chain and seals, ami tall, curly brimmed hat that completed my attire. He handed me my Malacca cane and took up a position against the further wall of the room. Then I left the room and re-entered, flinging the door wide open and stopping short on the threshold in an attitude of amazement. “How does that go, I’hipson?” “Uncommonly well, sir. Disgust and dignity is all there. Perhaps a leetle touch more consternation required. A rub to the left whisker might impart it.” I tried again. “Very good indeed, sir. I was thinking if you would take an opportunity of observing Mr Burton, Sr., sir. He has a way of pulling out his cheeks and blowing slowly that is very telling. If you could ask him to luncheon, sir, and ’orrify him a little —just as a study?” Then I’hipson went to call me a cab, and I took up the telegram. I was accustomed to Aunt Belinda's urgent messages. Not a week passed without some commission arriving for me, either by post or wire. In the course of the last month I—or Phipson —had sent her down a pair of brougham horses, fifty selected stove palms, a bottle of a new patent hairdye, a lady help “with a taste for art millinery, and some knowledge of beekeeping; one who could play the mandoline, if possible.” Also, a baby doll with a phonograph attachment that nearly caused my arrest by going off unexpectedly as 1 handed it in at the Parcels Office. “Make appointment with Sir William Brett directly. Ask if he can come here. If not. secure apartments, Beaumont-street.” This was not the ordinary commission. A cold qualm passed over me. Not many months ago the family physician had insisted on Lady Belinda consulting a specialist about her health. Sir William Brett’s opinion had not been satisfactory. He suspected grave internal mischief, but her wilful ladyship laughed him and his warnings to scorn. I’hipson looked serious when I gave it to him to read. "I had better go and see about this at once. sir. If it is another of them attacks, there’s no time to lose.” I wished I could have gone myself. If it had been anything but a regimental performance for a regimental charity, I could have turned the part over to my under-study and taken the next train to Brighton, but I dared not risk that. We were bringing out a piece that was to cover the authoress with glory, and the authoress was Lady Adela Wymond, our colonel’s wife. This dress rehearsal was virtually a “first night.” to which many influential friends of the press and the stage had received invitations. I dared not trust McNaughton to take my place, even if there had been time for him to have dressed. I must go through with it. “Forsworn” went off better than I, who had only seen fragmentary

rehearsals, expected. As 1 came off alter my great scene with Lady Adela in the second aet, I found I’hipson waiting at the wing with an anxious faee ami another telegram in his hand. I tore it open. “Come down at once. To-night if you cun,” was all it contained. “What time is the train? 1 don’t see how I ean get away before the end.”

“Ten-fifty, sir. Were you thinking of going down?” “I must”—looking at my watch — “the third act isn’t long—in any case I’m only on in the first half. If you bring me some things to change into and have a cab ready, I can do it. I must see about leave, though.”

“What's the matter?” asked little Teddy Burton. “Anything I can do for you?” Teddy is the best little man going; always wanting to do something for somebody. He is the only son of an adoring father, a soap manufacturer, and belongs to our fourth battalion. “You'll find the colonel in the green-room, and, look here, if your man will bring your things to the station you ean change in the train going down, eh? My cab is ordered for half-past ten. I’ll drive you there.”

'The colonel gave me leajve with some demur, and the third act commenced. I was out in all my calculations. though. The authoress had been dissatisfied with one scene, and had written up her own part in it with such liberality that I went on five minutes later than I expected. Then a stupid little bit of a song was encored. and when 1 came off at last I was dismayed to see how late it was. I couldn’t even wait to get rid of my “make-up,” as I intended. “.Jump in!” cried Teddy. “Turn up your collar and pull your hat over your eyes. You won’t meet anybody you know at this time of night. I’ll see you through; I told your man to take a ticket for me. Want a. breath of fresh air.”

“It’s awfully kind of yon, Burton,” I said, most sincerely, for I dreaded the lonely journey with only my anxieties for company. 1 had felt obliged to leave I’hipson to coach McNaughton for to-morrow night, and to see after his make-up. It was the least I could do to make amends to Lady Adela.

We were only just in time. The engine gave its farewell shriek as we were hustled into the last first-class compartment, and the train moved off as the door slammed. No chance of changing there! A prim little lady and a primmer maid occupied the two end seats. Teddy evidently impressed them favourably by his affectionate care of me, whom he addressed as “Grandpapa,” and treated as if in the last stage of senile decay. He subsided at last, and 1 dozed in my corner till awakened by the exit of our fellow passengers at Three Bridges. It was a wild night, and the windows were blurred by steam and raindrops. Forgetting, for a moment, my remarkable appearance, I opened the door and looked out, to make sure no further intrusion was imminent. To my disguest, two ladies made straight for the carriage, though there was room and to spare in front. “There he is—looking out for us!” cried a high, sharp voice, and, as I dropped back into my seat, the door was tugged valiantly open, and a yellow little woman, in a smart bonnet, skipped on to the step. “How do you do, Sir Gregory? Lucky I saw you! I've brought her myself, you s?e.” She had absolutely grabbed my hand, and was shaking it “Yes, here she is; and I hope and pray”—this in a raised voice, evidently intended for other ears than mine—“l trust you may meet with a better reward for your charity than others have done. Get in. Iris.” She hopped down, and shoved in her companion as the train started; and there was I, shaking in my shoes, before a tall young ladv with the handsomest eyes I ever beheld, in a shabby tweed suit and a towering passion. “I think there’s some mistake 1 began mildly. “There's no mistake! There shall be no mistake if 1 can help it!” she declared. “Before you speak another word to me, you shall listen to what I have to say.” Her eyes fairly flashed sparks at me as she spoke.

“But really ” “You shall hear me out! You may say what you choose after. There shall be no misapprehension as to the terms on which we stand. When Aunt Viola came to me last night —she took care to wait till 1 had finished the stocking darning and letting down Milly’s fiock—w hen she came and told me I was to go to you, whether I would or no, you may be sure she told me the worst; how you were taking me from pure charity, and against your will ” “I swear I’m doing no such thing!” 1 shouted. “1 don’t know you ” “And whose fault is that?” she answered, with accents of scorching, scathing scorn. “You let your own sister's child go like a stray dog to the first door that opened to her, and take her back just because it suits you. Oh, lam under no deception. You can’t explain away your own note to Aunt Viola. She showed it to me. It was too good a. chance of humiliating me for her to lose. You wrote that ‘you didn't mind putting me up for a bit if I am good-looking and can make myself agreeable.’ Those were your words, don’t venture to deny them!” and she threw her handsome head back and pointed an accusing forefinger, in a dingy suede glove, at me with the grand gesture of an avenging angel. “Confound it! Will you listen?” “Not to a word! lam good-looking and 1 mean to make myself agreeable” —this with a stamp of the foot —“but. you shall first know why. 1 wouldn’t have come to you-—I would have made Aunt Viola keep me, whether she would or no —but for my eyes. The scarlatina has left me half blind, and the doctor says that if ever they are to get well I must rest them for a month. Do you think Aunt Viola would keep me for a month doing nothing? Not likely. That is why I am coming to you, and if you grudge the expense, you can make Uncle Solomon repay you out of that money of mine that he has. I can’t get it from him. Then I shall leave you. I can earn my living anywhere by my music.”

I was relieved to see that she really had talked herself calmer, but she hadn’t done yet. The consciousness of my absurd disguise daunted me. I felt obliged to hear her out. Teddy’s shoulders were shaking in the corner behind his newspaper. He wasn’t going to help me. “You are an ill-tempered, exacting old man. Aunt Viola took care to tell me— —”

“Oh, go on; don’t spare my feelings.”

“But 1 warn you to expect nothing —no, nothing from me. 1 won’t read your newspapers to you, or sew for you, or write your letters;, and you may scold me as much as you like, but you shan’t make me cry; for tne d—doctor says if I do I sh —shall g— g —go b —blind at once ” I was so horrified at seeing her lips quiver and droop at the corners, and a mist coming into the beautiful, fiery eyes, that I threw discretion to the winds.

“For heaven’s sake don’t cry then! I agree to everything you wish. You

shall have everything your own way, and ” desperately attempting a diversion—“don’t make a scene befoie strangers. I haven’t introduced my friend, Mr Burton.” She had overlooked him, and the shock of finding a spectator of our fracas cooled her down at once. She

bowed with fi-eezing magnificence, while I seized on his paper and retired behind it to gain time and seclusion for thought. Here was a situation! Who was this spit-fire beauty? And who was Sir Gregory?

And where was Sir Gregory? In the train, most probably. But how was I to find him? And if I forced an explanation at once, what, would be the consequences;? Hysterics, and then ! Supposing she cried and went blind on the spot! It was really an awful position. I would search the train from end to end at the next station. I resolved; conduct Sir Gregory to his niece, and then disappear forever. My blessed disguise would prevent her ever identifying me. I stole a look at her round my paper. Teddy was getting on finely. She had moved to the corner seat on a line with me and he was putting a rug round her. The shoulders of the shabby tweed coat w-ere dark with rain drops. Teddy mopped them up with his handkerchief, presently. She didn’t fly out at him—but then, he wasn't her uncle, Sir Gregory. Hayward’s Heath. Out I bundled, with scant courtesy, and hurried along the whole length of the train, peering into every compartment in search of the old gentleman with scrubby, white hair, fierce eyebrows, reddish nose, and grizzled mutton-chop whiskers for whom I had been mistaken. I came upon nobody in the least resembling myself or likely to be anybody’s elderly unele. Foreigners. smart young fellows, couples obviously married. or men of low estate. Returning baffled, I was run into by a flushed and blear-eyed youth in livery making his way baek from a visit to the refreshment room.

“'lllo Gas! ’Ere y’are. Found the lidy?” shrieked a large, high-coloured damsel, in a blue hat with red roses, from the window of a compartment containing a noisy party. “Lidy be blowed; who wants her? Shpoil the party. Me an S’ Gregory’!! have ’nough of her by’nby. Look for her, Preston Park. All ri’.” So that was the escort she had missed. She was better off with Burton and me. I made my way back and found that Burton han conjured up a cup of tea and a bag of sandwiches, and was negotiating with a porter for a fresh hot w’ater tin.

“It’s all right,” he eagerly whispered. “You’re Sir Gregory Grimshaw and she’s Miss Iris Merton. I’m your secretary and you bully me awfully, you know. Stick to it, old man.”

Miss Iris’ fine colour and spirit had vanished. She looked white and meek, and sipped her hot tea gratefully. Burton had persuaded her to take off the damp coat ami put on his fur-lined overcoat. I paid no attention to them, but turned my back and pretended to sleep. What a pretty, piteous face it was when the temper had gone out of

it! Burton and she conversed in whlspera, out of respect for my slumbers; 1 could hear little suppressed laughs now ami then. What were they talking about? It was uncommonly slow work for me sitting there and hearing Master Teddy amusing himself at my expense possibly. Hang him! Should 1 interfere and spoil his fun by telling the truth? The thought of that drunken scoundrel disposed of the notion at once. Then what was I to do? I fell asleep in earnest over the problem. When I woke I found Teddy seated opposite me. “Hush!” he said, as if I were making a row. Our charge had followed my example. “Dead beat,” he murmureel. “Half hysteric from eold and hunger, I fancy. Once she had had her tea she was awfully penitent for having slanged you.” “Who is she? What have you found out?”

“Father dead—clergyman. Educated her regardless of expense, and <hen kept her at home for company till he died, leaving her thirty pounds a year. Aunt offers her a home, pockets the money, works her as governess . atin general slavey, and talks of her charity at the time, till it suits her to get rid of the girl.” “But why?” “Can only guess. Clever young doctor comes into the story somehow, when Miss Iris caught scarlatina from the children after nursing them through it. Proposed, I infer—like his impu-

dence! Auntie wants him for her own— packs this girl off at a moment’s notice, to you. her only other relation —an unmitigated old ruffian. You can’t think how sorry she is for me ’’

I cut the imposter short, and asked him —we were rapidly nearing Brighton—what was to be done? 1 think he would have slain me with his own hand had I proposed to deliver the girl to that footman or his master. He had his plan all cut and dried. We were to take her to Brighton, and if Lady Belinda were too ill to help us, there was always her great friend, Mrs Travers, who lived at the same boarding house and with whom Teddy was a favourite. He was sure one of them would give the girl a home till her eyes were better or something could be arranged. Teddy argued beautifully and at such length, that we arrived at Preston Park before I had time to propose an amendment even if I had been prepared with one. “Gus,” with his hat askew, lurched past our window. and I felt that we had burned our ships. Brighton at last. My niece woke with a start, and I meanly abandoned her to Teddy and fled; that is, T ordered him gruffly to “see after Miss Merton and bring the luggage,” and then jumped into a hansom myself, and told the man to drive as fast as he could to 25 Collingwood Place, so as to get the needful explanations over before they should arrive. “Peltzer’s Boarding House” is kept by an ex-butler of my aunt’s, who married her maid, and a set of rooms there is permanently reserved for her. Peltzer had no night porter, but T saw a light in the basement, and knocking, was opened to by Mrs Peltzer herself, a kindly soul, with a head on her shoulders; Phipson’s sister, moreover. “We can’t take in anyone to-night,” she said firmly. “You can try the ‘Cosmopolitan’ in the next street. Lawks! it’s Mr Barrington. Why. what ’ave you done to yourself, sir?

“Never mind my looks. How’s my aunt?” I demanded, pushing past her into the passage. “Lady Belinda? She’s in Paris, sir, T believe.”

“Paris? Then what’s the meaning of this telegram that brought me down to-night?” She read it and looked wrathful. “That idiot. Ludwig! I gave it him myself the day before yesterday. Her ladyship wanted you to come and make up the party. She wrote as well. I’ll be bound that letter is at the bottom of his pocket.”

“Do you know what she meant by a message about a doctor?”

“Yes. sir. That was for a poor gentleman we have here. Her ladyship has persuaded him to go to Sir William Brett ”

I wasted no more time on investigation, but explained my own difficulties. Mrs Travers, by ill-luck, was away, too, and Mrs Peltzer roundly refused to compromise the respectability of the establishment by taking us in. She might receive the young lady—for one night only—but as for Burton and me .

Here Peltzer joined the conference. He was abased by the sense of his wrong-doings and anxious to propitiate me; also the chanee of letting my aunt’s rooms had awakened the greed of gain. “I knows nodings,” he protested. “Nodings but vat you tell me. Hier ist most honourable Sir Baronet Gregory Grimshaw and his high-born lady niece. We will receive zem. Vy not? Hein?” with an astute wink.

“Law, Ludwig!” grinned his spouse. “Well, Mr Barrington; you understand we couldn’t possibly take you in with a stray young lady at this time of night, but Sir Gregory and his niece are quite another thing. I trust to your honour to make it all right with my lady when she conies home.” I noticed a malicious twinkle in her eye at the thoughts of keeping me in my disguise, but 1 was desperate by this time and would have agreed to anything.

Burton and my niece were waiting patiently enough in the cab outside all this time. I dispatched my secretary to find refuge at the “Cosmopolitan,” gave over my niece to Mrs Peltzer’s. charge, and followed Peltzer to my own quarters right thankfully. I forgot my perplexities in sleep.

I awoke to their remembrance next morning, though. Something in the glance Peltzer cast on me as he filled my tub made me spring from the bed to the looking-glass. That abominable make-up! Though I had gone to bed unwashed, having neither Phipson nor the materials at hand to renew it, it had eoine to irretrievable ruin in the night. One eyebrow was lost in the bed, and the markings round the eyes had run into shapeless smudges. My whiskers were all right, but, in the crude light of morning, the join of my bald head was made manifest. My moustache, being small and pale, had been merely gummed flat and painted out. One end ■had got released and stood forth, a stiff spike under my blotched pink nose—a ghastly spectacle! And my dress! The G.O.M. collar hung lifeless and the buff waistcoat was a limp, disreputable rag. What was to be done?

I jumped into bed again, turned my face to the wall, and swore—but that did no good. Then a bang at the door announced Teddy Burton, who flung himself into a chair and yelled with delight at the sight of me;'then, finding- how miserable and savage I was, set about trying to help me. “Of course you can’t come down to breakfast. I’d better tell Miss Merton you’re ill ”

“But suppose—suppose she wants to come and nurse me!”

“We must keep her out of the way. See here. I don’t mind if T take her out and show her the place, and—yes; we can get luncheon somewhere and that will give you time to turn round, you know.”

I groaned an assent. They might go and be hanged to them. Then I jumped up again, and sat down to write the strongest letter of recall that pen and ink could produce to Aunt Belinda. I heard the two go downstairs together, and could not resist peeping at them through the blind. How handsome she looked in the fresh morning sunshine! Even the

worn old tweed suit looked smart on her trim, young figure, though it looked chilly, too. in the sharp east wind. As for Teddy, he beamed all over with delight and importance. I east a despairing look at the wretched, dejected figure of fun in the glass and returned to my letter. It was not an easy one to write. 1 was labouring at the fifth copy when a well-known discreet tap at the door made me start with incredulous delight. “Come in!” 1 shouted, and Phipson’s welcome old face presented itself. "The theatricals is postponed, sir. We sire in mourning for His Royal Highness, as you will see by the morning papers.” The Duke was a German royalty connected with our regiment in some honorary fashion. “So, as Captain McNaughton didn’t require me, 1 judged best to come up by the early express.” His sister must have prepared him, for he took the story very quietly. “it’s awkward, sir, very awkward, especially for the young lady. We can’t keep her here, and send her out with Mr Burton all day—not if she’s desirous of a situation as governess; nor, as things is, can we communicate with Sir Gregory.” "What would you recommend?” I asked, humbly. “We must get her ladyship back at once, sir. With your permission, 1 will cross by Newhaven to-night. 1 can take your letter, sir, and add my own explanations”—which were far more likely to prove effectual, I was well aware —“1 should suggest your returning to town at once, sir, and taking Mr Burton with you.”

“But how? I must see Miss Merton and explain. And how can I in this state? 1 can’t go away and leave her all alone till my aunt comes.”

“For the sake of the establishment and the young lady it might be as well to continue the imposi—beg pardon, sir—substitution a few hours longer, much as we regret it,” Phipson admitted reluctantly. “1 will see about the dress for the character and have a friend here. M. Alphonse, late of Covent Garden, who 1 am sure will be equal to the make-up. It need not be so exaggerated as before. I believe the young lady only saw you with a hat on.”

“She could only see the tip of my nose and my whiskers, and she was too excited to pay any attention to those,” 1 eagerly assured him. Phipson helped me to dress, and went in search of his friend, while 1 plucked up a. spirit and managed to dispose of some luncheon. M. Alphonse arrived in the course of the afternoon and took me in hand seriously. I was fitted with an artistic grey wig. my moustache abolished, despite my protests. “Lady Adela will be gratified,” Phipson said, for my consolation. “She always thought it imperilled the piece.” White eyebrows and whiskers were carefully adjusted and wrinkles and touches about the eyes painted in with the utmost delicacy and further concealed by gold spectacles. T felt I could defy detection as an undoubted, genuine old English gentleman. Phipson insisted on rehearsing the “business” with me once or twice with anxious care, how I was to shake hands, blow my nose, lean on my cane as T rose from mv chair, and take

precautions against appearing too youthful about the legs.

He put me into my nice, elderlydress suit and old-fashioned cravat, aim with many injunctions as to the train and manner of my departure next morning started for New haven.

1 felt uncommonly pleased with myseli as t stood with my back to the sitting-room lire awaiting their return, Wilde Peltzer laid the table with furtive side glances of admiration at me. 1 lie lights were carefully shaded— out of consideration lor my niece’s eyes—anil 1 made Peltzer get a bouquet of roses to put in her place. 1 felt quite angry with Burton for keeping her out so long ami meant to speak seriously to him about it. In they came at last, chattering and laughing all the way upstairs, Iris fresh and rosy, her pretty chin nestling into a big fur boa, and a smart little toque to match perched on her bright hair. She gave a little start at seeing me, then came forward, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks blushing beautifully. "Oh, uncle, 1 hope you are better. < ouldn t I have been of some use to you?” She had pulled off her fur gauntlets and held my veined, shaking old fist in her warm little hands. "No, no. my darling” (that was for Burton’s benefit. I patted the little hand and made him glare). “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Did Burton take eare of you?” "Indeed he did. And how am I to thank you for your present? ft’s lovely, too lovely,” and she stroked her furs and blushed anew; Burton winking and telegraphing like a maniac behind her.

“Say nothing, my dear. Take it as a peace offering.” I declare she looked as if she were going to kiss me. I’d have let her—l couldn’t have helped it—if Peltzer had not come in with a tray of glasses, and they both rushed off to dress.

It was a jovial little dinner. We were all in rather reckless spirits. Iris pinned one of my roses into the lace round the neck of her neat little black frock, and after dinner sang song after song for us, Teddy playing the accompaniments while I listened behind the "Times.” Iris had said "good night" and Teddy departed to the Cosmopolitan before 1 remembered that nothing had been said about our approaching departure. Need 1 say that 1 did not leave Brighton as arranged, nor the next day, nor the next day, nor the next. I know it was mad and reckless, but I had missed the right moment for explanation and it never returned. Besides Teddy was immovable. “Leave Miss Merton here alone? Out of the question. Suppose that old ruffian. Sir Gregory, were to come down and find her? (That possibility hadn’t occurred to me, and it sent cold shivers down mv back to contemplate it). “It was my tom-foolery and dressing up that had got her into the scrape.” (That was good!) “I ought to have the common decency to see her out of it,” and so forth. So, emboldened by the success of Alphonse's ministrations and Iris’ dim sight, T let things drift and we drove together, and sauntered by the sea. and had cozy little dinners and merry evenings with the music of Teddy's banjo and Tris’ songs. This couldn't go on: in fact it didn’t;

but the end came all at once, and without warning. Ii was beginning to feel some scruples on Teddy’s account. He was young and impressionable, and 1 felt it to be my duty to his good old father not to let things go too far. Old Burton was a model parent, but had views of his own as to Teddy's future. 1 must hint as much to Iris on the first opport unity. The opportunity came next morning. We had planned an expedition to a distant village on the Downs where ••remains” were on view— Saxon, or Homan, or Ancient British—it was all one to us. Teddy had gone off on some errand of his own first, leaving Us to wait for him on the pier. I was thinking how to begin when she made the first move. “Uncle, I’ve something to confess to you—unless Mr Burton has told you She stopped dead short and I began to feel queer. “You have been so dear and kind to me, in spite of the wicked, shameful way I behaved to you, that I cannot bear to vex you, and he said you would be angry ” The hussy! What had she been doing? “But that first day when we went out together, we went to a registry “A Registrar’s?” What did the girl mea n? “You don’t really want me, you know, uncle dear. You have your man and Mr Burton, and I shall only be in the way if I stay too long. So I’ve found a situation in a school near here. French and German conversation classes for the first term, and music when my eyes are- well. It’s a nice house and the pay is ever so much more than I expected. Do consent, uncle, dean! ” and the witch slipped her hand into mine and pressed it ever so nicely. Really it seemed a providential escape from our difficulties. I thought of my dwindling leave and the growing costliness of Alphonse's artistic efforts, and, with a sigh, signified my approbation of the plan. "Then you’ll give me a satisfactory reference, won’t you? The lady principal would like a personal interview, she says.” Here was a pitfall. I walked on faster, inwardly calling on I‘hipson to come and save me from the perils besetting me on either hand; then, suddenly, my footsteps were cheeked, my heart stood still, and my blood was turned to water. Face to face, coming up from the sea to meet me, was my own simulacrum, white-whiskered, fierce eyebrowed, gray haired; wearing the same old-fashioned, olivegreen great coat, the same curlybrimmed hat. The veritable Sir Gregory Grimshaw! I caught Iris’ arm and turned her sharply. “Burton will be waiting,” I stammered, and walked her away as fast as I dared. Had he seen mo? Was he pursuing? I did not dare to look. At the entrance to the pier our carriage was waiting, but no Burton. 1 handed Iris in and jumped in after, bidding the driver to start at once. I don't know what explanation I gasped out, but it was satisfactory, for Iris kept silence while I tried to grasp the awful position in which I stood. Suddenly, she turned and looked back—“ Someone is following us on horseback, ’ she said. I started as if shot. “I think—yes, lam sure — it is Mr Burton,” and she coloured quite unnecessarily. It was Teddy curvetting and prancing on a tall,' ginger-coloured steed. We stopped, he danced past us and reined up with some difficulty alongside.

“1 was detained by important letters, Sir Gregory,” he panted, then bestowed on me a wink of ominous meaning that awakened my darkest suspicions. We could say no more then, and it was not till we arrived at the “remains,” inspected them, and ordered luncheon at the little village inn, that he had a chance of telling me what had befallen him. “We're in a hole!” he began, in an awe-struck whisper. “They’re pursuing us with detectives" —if he had said “bloodhounds” his whisper could not have been more soul-curdling—“and I say, have you seen Sir Gregory?" I nodded assent.

“Last night, you know, coming home along the King's Rond, I bad a fancy that a fellow in a brown hat was following me, but I couldn't be sure. 1 dodged back to the “Cosmo-

politan,” dressed for dinner, and, to be on the safe side, dodged out by the back stairs and the servants’ entrance. When I got home at night, there he was, still in the hall. There was no reason why he shouldn’t be there, of course, but this morning, when I came out, there he was again. I went to the post office for letters, and, coming back, turning a corner, 1 came right upon him confabulating with the most diabolical old Johnnie you ever l>eheld. Awfully like you, isn’t he? I knew you were on the pier, but dared not go near you to give a warning; all I could think of was to lead ‘Brown Hat’ a dance in the opposite direction. So I sauntered along, pretending to be looking out for somebody. I went and bought cigarettes and a paper—‘Brown Hat’ always after me. Then, as I passed a livery stable, I saw, by good luck, this brute standing, ready saddled; so 1 turned in, hired him, and rode off—not in this direction, of course. ‘Brown Hat’ stuck to us gamely for a bit, but saw it was no good, so, as soon as he dropped off, I made a long turn, and came on here. Now, what’s to be done?”

“We can’t keep on dodging forever and ever,” I said, moodily, “nor can we get off and leave that poor girl to face that old brute ”

“I should think not! Why not run over to Paris —or America—or Cairo for the winter?” But here Iris entered, and the question was left open. I sat alone in that stuffy inn parioui after luncheon, on pretext of “letters to write,” locating my brains for some plan of hiding her safe somewhere, till Phipson should return to deliver us. Either I or she had been recognised, I felt certain, but not tracked home; henec the watch set upon Teddy, who must have been seen with us. I was most likely the object of pursuit; Sir Gregory must have heard from Aunt Viola of his “double” to whom she hud delivered her charge. It was clear that we must separate. Teddy’s schemes were impossible. I couldn’t take Alphonse over the world with me, noi get an extension of leave. I would restore Miss Merton to Collingwood Place, as the safest and most respectable abode, and trust to Phipson and Aunt Belinda doing their best for her; and I would throw myself to the wolves, and let them do their worst. After all. that might not be much. Wearing a grey wig and big whiskers was not a criminal offence in the eye of the law, nor even borrowing a gentleman’s name- - I was not so sure about borrowing a gentleman’s niece, though! Well, I’d chance it. So I rang the bell and ordered the carriage round, and summoned the others, who had been climbing the church tower, and watching the blacksmith shoe a cart horse, and trying to play skittles, and otherwise diverting themselves. We drove home in sombre silence. The shadow of our approaching doom was over us all, I fancied. I got out of the carriage at a safe distance from home, begging Iris to drive straight back, and not wait dinner if I did not come, then, walking beside Teddy’s charger, explained my plan to him. “We’ll go first, to the livery stable. They are sure to be on the lookout for your return.”

From a little knot of loafers and loungers at the stable entrance, one disengaged himself as we came in. To test my theory, while Teddy paid for his mount at the office, I walked sharply down the street. Turning, I saw that the “Brown Hat” had left Teddy, and was following me. Satisfied, I walked on slowly till Teddy overtook me and we made our way to the “Cosmopolitan’ together. We made for Teddy’s room, and fastened the door. “What will he do. next?” asked Teddy, his eyes round with alarm. “Send for Sir Gregory—or the police?” “How can I tell? But let’s make certain which of us he wants. You go out and away—anywhere but to Collingwood Place, and see if he follows you.”

Ten minutes after Teddy’s departure I opened the door, and the man was still there, lounging on an Ottoman in the recess of the landing window, with the door of my room well in view.

My impatience was getting the better of me. I couldn’t go on with this game of eat and mouse—and me the mouse—all day. I felt I must go out nnil give myself up to him. or assault and butter him, or something. What might not be going on at Peltzer’s

while I was a prisoner here! Madness seized me. I tore off my wig, rang for hot water, wiped off forty years of wrinkles with Burton’s toilet cream, got rid of my whiskers and eyebrows with difficulty, and found a coat in the wardrobe that fitted. Then I ravaged and ransacked Burton’s portmanteau and drawers for collar and scarf, gloves and hat, and, transformed to my original semblance, (stepped boldly out on the landing among a large party who had ascended the stairs. I passed my man within a foot of his nose, slipped off down the passage to the,back stairs which had served Teddy’s turn before, and sped like the wind to Collingwood Place. A great misgiving seized me when I came in sight of the house. The door was open and the hall empty, but there were signs of a recent arrival or departure—l was not sure which —and an empty eab was in waiting near the steps. I dashed up to the sittingroom; angry voices sounded from within—one was Teddy’s; the other, a savage, insulting growl I seemed to know by instinct. I flung the door open and Iris rushed up—“Oh, uncle, dear uncle !” she began, and stopped in dismay. “What, another of your swains!” snarled the old ruffian. “Time I came to look after you. A nice, well-be-haved, decent young person you seem! I suppose you thought to have a lark here with your young man before coming to me. eh? You disgraceful young hussy! What a,re you doing here—in these rooms, eh? Tell me that.”

Before Teddy or I could have his blood, the door of my room opened and a calm voice interposed. “I beg your pardon, sir. Might. I ask your business here?” said Phipson.

“Business?” yelled Sir Gregory. “My business? You’d better ask that young lady what her business here is.” Phipson only bowed and held the door open wider, and in there rustled upon us, irate and magnificent—Aunty Belinda herself! “That young lady is here as my companion,” she cried with splendid mendacity. “I am Lady Belinda Barrington, and I want to know who you are, sir, making this disturbance in my .apartments. Phipson, be so kind as to send for a policeman. at once. Ah, there is my nephew! Just in time, Neville. Please turn out this person. He is either mad or intoxicated.”

“But—but.—but ’ puffed Sir Gregory, “this is my nieee; she was to have come for me four days ago ’ “She never said she was coming, did she?” said Aunty Bel with superb composure. “I am sure she did a wiser thing in coming here instead, and here she shall stay as long as she pleases.”

“And I am not his niece!” cried Iris. “There is some dreadful mistake. My uncle is a gentleman! Oh, why doesn’t he come?” she wailed. Phipson here addressed some lowvoiced remarks to Sir Gregory that appeared persuasive, for, muttering and growling he retreated with a farewell snarl about “my solicitor.” I never heard more of him. Phipson’s first proceeding was to pack up and despatch me to town by the very next train as the sole condition on which he would promise to set all right for me .with the young lady. I suppose he did. I don’t know, and I think 1 don’t particularly care by this time. Burton says he doesn’t either. We have never set eyes on her again. She was engaged to that doctor all the time. ♦From “Crampton’s Magazine.”