was growing more and more headstrong.
It was more than a fortnight since he had
had any private letter from England, and
the last had been from his wife; a tissue
of complaints and demands for money from
beginning to end. Mr. Frost's private
meditations were not soothing. They were
a bitter cud to chew. So with a wrench of
his mind, and a movement of his body as
though he were shaking a tangible weight
from his shoulders, he turned his thoughts
to other matters. Things had got to that
point with him now, when a man tells
himself that it is no use thinking of his troubles:
thinking will mend nothing. Some turn of
luck must come —  may come, at all events.
And if not— ? If not, why still it is no
use thinking. The devil must have his own
way!

Mr. Frost had not sat ten minutes in the
boudoir, before Barletti came in.

"Caro amico," said he, grasping the
lawyer's hand hard, " you are come!
Thanks, many thanks. I have great need
of you."

Barletti had never addressed Mr. Frost as
"caro amico" before.

"What can I do for you?" asked the
latter, observing Barletti's face attentively,
but not ostentatiously.

"It is all over here. That man— Sir John
Gale— "

"Your friend?"

"My friend! Yes, yes, my friend! The
most unheard-of cold-blooded villain—!
Maria Santissima, forgive me! He has
gone to meet his deserts."

"Humph!" ejaculated Mr. Frost, with
closed lips and an indescribable inflection
in his voice. "Has he? That is to say
that he is—?"

"Dead."

"Oh! Yes. I see. Was it sudden?"

"One can hardly say so after all these
months of wasting away. But yet at the
last it was sudden. It was a hideous sight
to see. When I got here they took me
straight into his room. I turned sick and
faint as a girl," said Barletti, growing pale
and shuddering at the recollection.

"How? What was the hideous sight?"

"He had broken a blood-vessel, and was
lying there just as he had died. They had
touched nothing. It was horrible!"

The impressionable Italian hid his face
with his hands, as though to shut out the
remembrance of the scene.

"Who was with him? How was the
cause of death ascertained?"

"The two physicians who attended him
arrived just after it happened. He had
been raving in a fit of maniacal fury. That
killed him, there's no doubt."

A thought occurred to Mr. Frost. If Sir
John Gale had died intestate, his widow
would undoubtedly be a wealthy woman.
In any case his death would benefit her, for
there were settlements under which she
would have at least such an income as
befitted her rank. Lady Tallis Gale's niece
would now be in very different circumstances
from those she had been in hitherto. Maud
would be Lady Tallis's heiress of course.
And then— then that might make a difference
in the prospects of Hugh Lockwood!
The thought passed through Mr. Frost's
brain so quickly that there was no perceptible
pause before he said, " You will allow me to
suggest that you should at once telegraph
to England. Perhaps you have already done
so?"

Barletti was resting his elbows on the
table and alternately bringing his open palms
together on his forehead, and slowly
separating them with a stroking movement
towards his ears. He made a little negative
gesture with his head, in answer to Mr.
Frost's question.

"You asked me to come here, prince, in
such a manner that I concluded you stood in
need of professional advice from me. If I
was wrong, you will forgive me for reminding
you that my time is precious, and that
if there is no service I can render you, I
must withdraw."

"No, no, don't go! Pray don't go! I do
want you. I have the greatest need of you!
I have been half distracted all day. More
for her sake, God knows, than my own!"

"For— her sake?"

"I am her cousin. I have a right to be
near her and protect her. Her mother was
Maria Stella de' Barletti. There is no
other relative in Italy to take care of her."

"Prince, I do not in the least doubt your
right to take care of the lady in question.
But—who is 'she'?"

"Do you remember that morning, now
nearly a week ago, when we saw Sir John
Gale being rowed ashore from the English
ship?"

"Certainly. Ah, I see. Yes, yes: I
begin to understand. There was a lady with
him—a young lady as it seemed to me.
Humph!"

"Yes, that was she. She was in a dreadful
state this morning when I came here.
She had been fainting, falling from one
swoon into another, and that was best for
her, povera anima sofferente! For when she