HALF A MILLION OF MONEY.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "BARBARA'S HISTORY."

CHAPTER XXXVII. MR. KECKWITCH PROVES
HIMSELF TO BE A MAN OF ORIGINAL GENIUS.

A THRILL of virtuous satisfaction pervaded
Mr. Keckwitch's respectable bosom at the
discovery of Elton Lodge, Slade's-lane, Kensington.
He had gained the first great step, and gained
it easily. The rest would be more difficult;
but it would be sure to follow. Besides, he
was not the man to be daunted by such
obstacles as were likely to present themselves in
an undertaking of this kind. They were
obstacles of precisely that nature which his slow,
dogged, cautious temperament was best fitted
to deal with; and he knew this. Perhaps, on
the whole, he rather liked that there should be
some difficulties in the way, that he might have
the satisfaction of overcoming them. At all
events, they gave an additional zest to the
pursuit that he had in hand; and though his hatred
needed no stimulus, Mr. Keckwitch, like most
phlegmatic men, was not displeased to be
stimulated.

Sufficient, however, for the day was the
triumph thereof. Here was the gate of Elton
House; and only to have penetrated so far into
William Trefalden's mystery was an achievement
of no slight importance. But the head
clerk was not contented only to see the gate.
He wanted to have a glimpse of the house as
well; and so walked on to the bottom of the
lane, crossed over, and returned up the other
side. The lane, however, was narrow, and the
walls were high; so that, take it from what
point he would, the house remained invisible.
He could see the tops of two or three sombre
looking trees, and a faint column of smoke melting
away as it rose against the background of
blue sky; but that was all, and he was none
the wiser for the sight. So, knowing that he
risked observation every moment that he
lingered in Slade's-lane, he turned quickly back
again towards the market-gardens, and passed
out through a little turnstile leading to a footway
shut in by thick green hedges on either
side.

He could not tell in the least where this path
would lead him; but, seeing a network of similar
walks intersecting the enclosures in various
directions, he hoped to double back, somehow or
another, into the main road. In the mean while,
he hurried on till a bend in the path carried him
well out of sight of the entrance to Slade's-lane,
and there paused to rest in the shade of an
apple-orchard.

It was now about half-past six o'clock. The
sun was still shining; the evening was still
warm; the apple-blossoms filled the air with a
delicious perfume. All around and before him,
occupying the whole space of ground between
Kensington and Brompton, lay nothing but
meadows, and fruit-gardens, and orchards heavy
with blossoms white and pink. A pleasant,
peaceful scene, not without some kind of vernal
beauty for appreciative eyes.

But Mr. Keckwitch's dull orbs, however
feebly appreciative they might be at other times,
were blind just now to every impression of
beauty. Waiting there in the shade, he wiped
the perspiration from his forehead, recovered
his breath as he best could, and thought only of
how he might turn his journey to some further
account before going back to town. It was
much to have discovered Elton House; but he
had yet to learn what manner of life was led in
it by William Trefalden. It would have been
something only to have caught a glimpse through
an open gate—to have seen whether the house
were large or small, cheerful or dismal. He had
expected to find it dull and dilapidated, with
half the windows shuttered up, and the rest all
black with the smoke of many years; and he
did not feel inclined to go away in as much
ignorance of these points as when he left
Chancery-lane. Suddenly an idea occurred to him
—a very bright, ingenious idea, which gave
him so much satisfaction that he indulged in a
little inaudible laugh, and started forward again
quite briskly, to find his way out of this labyrinth
of hedgerows, orchards, and
cabbage-gardens.

He had not gone many yards before he came
to a cross-road whence more paths branched off
in every direction. Here, however, like a large
blue spider in the midst of his web, stood a
portly policeman, from whom Mr. Keckwitch at
once learned his nearest way to Palace Gardens,
and followed it. He asked for Palace Gardens
this time, being anxious to emerge conveniently
upon the High-street without again
venturing too close to Slade's-lane in broad
daylight.