be visible in half an hour's time, when Mr.
Bygrave would have returned to North Shingles.

Having delivered himself of this incomprehensible
announcement, the arch-conspirator laid
his significant forefinger along the side of his
short Roman nose—said, "Fine weather, isn't
it? Good afternoon!"—and sauntered out
inscrutably to continue his walk on the parade.

On the expiration of the half-hour, Mr. Noel
Vanstone presented himself at North Shingles
—with the ardour of a lover burning inextinguishably
in his bosom, through the superincumbent
mental fog of a thoroughly bewildered man. To
his inexpressible happiness, he found Magdalen
alone in the parlour. Never yet had she looked
so beautiful, in his eyes. The rest and relief of
her four days' absence from Aldborough had not
failed to produce their results: she had more
than recovered her composure. Vibrating
perpetually from one violent extreme to another,
she had now passed from the passionate despair
of five days since, to a feverish exaltation of
spirits, which defied all remorse and confronted
all consequences. Her eyes sparkled; her cheeks
were bright with colour; she talked incessantly,
with a forlorn mockery of the girlish gaiety
of past days—she laughed with a deplorable
persistency in laughing—she imitated Mrs.
Lecount's smooth voice and Mrs. Lecount's
insinuating graces of manner, with an overcharged
resemblance to the original, which was but the
coarse reflexion of the delicately-accurate
mimicry of former times. Mr. Noel Vanstone,
who had never yet seen her as he saw her now,
was enchanted; his weak head whirled with an
intoxication of enjoyment; his wizen cheeks
flushed as if they had caught the infection from
hers. The half-hour during which he was alone
with her passed like five minutes to him. When
that time had elapsed, and when she suddenly
left him—to obey a previously-arranged
summons to her aunt's presence—miser as he was,
he would have paid, at that moment, five golden
sovereigns out of his pocket, for five golden
minutes more, passed in her society.

The door had hardly closed on Magdalen,
before it opened again, and the captain walked
in. He entered on the explanations which his
visitor naturally expected from him, with the
unceremonious abruptness of a man hard pressed
for time, and determined to make the most of
every moment at his disposal.

"Since we last saw each other," he began, "I
have been reckoning up the chances for and
against us, as we stand at present. The result
on my own mind, is this: If you are still at
Aldborough, when that letter from Zurich reaches
Mrs. Lecount, all the pains we have taken will
have been pains thrown away. If your
housekeeper had fifty brothers all dying together, she
would throw the whole fifty over, sooner than
leave you alone at Sea View, while we are your
neighbours at North Shingles."

Mr. Noel Vanstone's flushed cheeks turned
pale with dismay. His own knowledge of Mrs.
Lecount told him that this view of the case was
the right one.

"If we go away again," proceeded the captain,
"nothing will be gained—for nothing would
persuade your housekeeper, in that case, that we
have not left you the means of following us.
You must leave Aldborough, this time; and, what
is more, you must go without leaving a single
visible trace behind you for us to follow. If we
accomplish this object, in the course of the next
five days, Mrs. Lecount will take the journey to
Zurich. If we fail, she will be a fixture at Sea
View to a dead certainty. Don't ask questions!
I have got your instructions ready for you; and
I want your closest attention to them. Your
marriage with my niece depends on your not
forgetting a word of what I am now going to tell
you.—One question first. Have you followed my
advice? Have you told Mrs. Lecount you are
beginning to think yourself mistaken in me?"

"I did worse than that," replied Mr. Noel
Vanstone, penitently. " I committed an outrage
on my own feelings. I disgraced myself by
saying that I doubted Miss Bygrave!"

"Go on disgracing yourself, my dear sir!
Doubt us both with all your might—and I'll
help you. One question more. Did I speak
loud enough this afternoon? Did Mrs. Lecount
hear me?"

"Yes. Lecount opened her door; Lecount
heard you. What made you give me that
message? I see no pictures here. Is this another
pious fraud, Mr. Bygrave?"

"Admirably guessed, Mr. Vanstone! You
will see the object of my imaginary picture-
dealing, in the very next words which I am now
about to address to you. When you get back
to Sea View, this is what you are to say to
Mrs. Lecount. Tell her that my relative's works
of Art are two worthless pictures—copies from
the Old Masters, which I have tried to sell you,
as originals, at an exorbitant price. Say you
suspect me of being little better than a plausible
impostor; and pity my unfortunate niece, for
being associated with such a rascal as I am.
There is your text to speak from. Say in many
words what I have just said in few. You can
do that—can't you?"

"Of course I can do it," said Mr. Noel
Vanstone. " But I can tell you one thing—Lecount
won't believe me."

"Wait a little, Mr. Vanstone; I have not
done with my instructions yet. You understand
what I have just told you? Very good. We
may get on from to-day to to-morrow. Go out
to-morrow with Mrs. Lecount, at your usual
time. I will meet you on the parade, and bow
to you. Instead of returning my bow, look the
other way—in plain English, cut me! That is
easy enough to do, isn't it?"

"She won't believe me, Mr. Bygrave—she
won't believe me!"

"Wait a little again, Mr. Vanstone. There
are more instructions to come. You have got
your directions for to-day, and you have got