future, but the plain exposure of the conspiracy
which she had striven to accomplish from the
first—which she was resolved to accomplish still.

"I always enjoy myself at St. Crux," thought
Mrs. Lecount, opening her account-books, and
sorting the tradesmen's bills. " The admiral is a
gentleman, the house is noble, the table is excellent.
No matter! Here, in this house, I stay by
myself, till I have seen the inside of Miss
Bygrave's wardrobe."

She packed her master's collection of curiosities
in their various cases, settled the claims of
the tradespeople, and superintended the covering
of the furniture in the course of the day. Towards
nightfall she went out, bent on investigation;
and ventured into the garden at North Shingles,
under cover of the darkness. She saw the light
in the parlour window, and the lights in the
windows of the rooms up-stairs, as usual.
After an instant's hesitation she stole to the
house-door, and noiselessly tried the handle from
the outside. It turned the lock as she had expected,
from her experience of houses at Aldborough and
at other watering-places—but the door resisted
her; the door was distrustfully bolted on the
inside. After making that discovery, she went round
to the back of the house, and ascertained that the
door on that side was secured in the same manner.
"Bolt your doors, Mr. Bygrave, as fast as
you like," said the housekeeper, stealing back
again to the parade. " You can't bolt the entrance
to your servant's pocket. The best lock you have,
may be opened by a golden key."

She went back to bed. The ceaseless watching,
the unrelaxing excitement of the last two
days, had worn her out.

The next morning she rose at seven o'clock.
In half an hour more she saw the punctual Mr.
Bygrave—as she had seen him on many previous
mornings, at the same time—issue from the gate
of North Shingles, with his towels under his
arm, and make his way to a boat that was waiting
for him on the beach. Swimming was one among
the many personal accomplishments of which
the captain was master. He was rowed out to
sea every morning, and took his bath luxuriously
in the deep blue water. Mrs. Lecount had already
computed the time consumed in this recreation by
her watch; and had discovered that a full hour
usually elapsed, from the moment when he
embarked on the beach to the moment when he
returned.

During that period, she had never seen any
other inhabitant of North Shingles leave the
house. The servant was no doubt at her work
in the kitchen; Mrs. Bygrave was probably still
in her bed; and Miss Bygrave (if she was up at
that early hour) had perhaps received directions
not to venture out in her uncle's absence.
The difficulty of meeting the obstacle of
Magdalen's presence in the house, had been, for some
days past, the one difficulty which all Mrs.
Lecount's ingenuity had thus far proved unable
to overcome.

She sat at the window for a quarter of an hour
after the captain's boat had left the beach, with
her mind hard at work, and her eyes fixed
mechanically on North Shingles—she sat, considering
what written excuse she could send to her
master for delaying her departure from
Aldborough for some days to come—when the door
of the house she was watching suddenly opened;
and Magdalen herself appeared in the garden.
There was no mistaking her figure and her dress.
She took a few steps hastily towards the gate;
stopped, and pulled down the veil of her garden
hat, as if she felt the clear morning light too much
for her—then hurried out on the parade, and
walked away northward, in such haste, or in such
preoccupation of mind, that she went through
the garden gate without closing it after her.

Mrs. Lecount started up from her chair, with
a moment's doubt of the evidence of her own
eyes. Had the opportunity which she had been
vainly plotting to produce, actually offered itself
to her, of its own accord? Had the chances
declared themselves at last in her favour, after
steadily acting against her for so long? There was
no doubt of it: in the popular phrase, " her luck
had turned." She snatched up her bonnet and
mantilla; and made for North Shingles, without
an instant's hesitation. Mr. Bygrave out at sea;
Miss Bygrave away for a walk; Mrs. Bygrave
and the servant both at home, and both easily
dealt with—the opportunity was not to be lost;
the risk was well worth running!

This time, the house-door was easily opened:
no one had bolted it again, after Magdalen's
departure. Mrs. Lecount closed the door softly;
listened for a moment in the passage; and
heard the servant noisily occupied in the kitchen
with her pots and pans. " If my lucky star
leads me straight into Miss Bygrave's room,"
thought the housekeeper, stealing noiselessly up
the stairs, " I may find my way to her wardrobe
without disturbing anybody."

She tried the door nearest to the front of the
house, on the right-hand side of the landing.
Capricious chance had deserted her already. The
lock was turned. She tried the door opposite, on
her left hand. The boots ranged symmetrically
in a row, and the razors on the dressing-table,
told her at once that she had not found the right
room yet. She returned to the right hand side of
the landing, walked down a little passage leading
to the back of the house, and tried a third door.
The door opened—and the two opposite extremes
of female humanity, Mrs. Wragge and Mrs.
Lecount, stood face to face in an instant!

"I beg ten thousand pardons!" said Mrs.
Lecount, with the most consummate self-possession.

"Lord bless us and save us!" cried Mrs.
Wragge, with the most helpless amazement.

The two exclamations were uttered in a
moment; and, in that moment, Mrs. Lecount took
the measure of her victim. Nothing of the least
importance escaped her. She noticed the Oriental
Cashmere Robe lying half made, and half
unpicked again, on the table; she noticed the