"No, monsieur; you can't see any of them."

"Oh, this won't do at all," said Harco,
raising his voice so as to be heard. "This
hiding and holing won't answer. I'm not to
be put off in this style." Suddenly a door
opened, and he saw West's figure before him—
the pale face, but the fiery eyes.

"Come in here," he said, with an air of
authority. "l am not well, and see nobody;
but I heard what you said. What is it you
want?"

"Why, I want this," said Harco, with some
bluster. "I came to speak about a piece of
your behaviour, Mr. West, which, I must take
the liberty of telling you, I think devilish
unhandsome, and shabby too." West stepped back.

"I am not in the humour for this sort of
thing," he said, impatiently. "You must go
away—to the café—anywhere, if this is all you
have come for."

Harco coloured. "What do you mean?" he
said. "What's the meaning of this, sir? Look at
that. Here's Trotter writing over that he saw
you, and gave you messages for me, which you
have suppressed and cushioned. Yes, sir, and from
what I call mean and unworthy motives, which
we all know. Now explain it, if you can."

"I explain nothing. Make what you like
of the transaction."

"Oh, come, come," said Mr. Dacres, losing
his temper, "this won't do at all. You must
explain—or, by the Lord, sir, as sure as I stand
here, I'll go over this whole place and post you."

"Do it, then, as speedily as you can," said
Mr. West, coldly. "Then you will find that I
know how to deal with you. You must leave
this house now."

"Then let me tell you," said Mr. Dacres,
"that your plot has failed. I am astonished at
any one, with the heart of a man, trying to strike
at a poor girl through her father! But there
are others to help her and me. Colonel Vivian,
sir, is a gentleman and a man of honour. He
has taken this Trotter matter in hand."

A curious expression came into West's face.

"Then I hope he will be able to help you."

And Mr. West abruptly retired, leaving
Harco utterly confounded at the fellow's assurance.
"I'll match my fine hermit yet." He
turned to the maid who was standing there:
"Miss West, please!"

"She has gone away."

"Let me see. Gone away! When? where?"

"To Paris, I believe, sir," said the girl, looking
round.

"To Paris?" repeated Mr. Dacres, really and
not theatrically astonished. "Oh, I must see
about this." He was going past her, when the
figure of Constance appeared on the stairs.
She spoke to him coldly, but firmly. Dacres
never relished her.

"Mr. West has passed a very bad night,"
she said. "Do, please, go away."

"Oh, of course, of course," he said. "Here's
news, though! So Miss Margaret West has
taken a trip for herself. Has she gone off with
any one?"

"I can tell you nothing," said Constance,
in the same icy tone. "You can want nothing
with her." He went away, utterly mystified.

"But I'll not be humbugged," he said,
working himself into a rage, "by him, or any
like him! I mind the day when I made Coulter
eat his words in the bar-room, Q. C. and all!
And my Jack over there won't escape. I'll have
him out on the sands as soon as look at him."

When he got home, he met the pretty Madame
Jaques, who had herself come over with a note
for Miss Lucy. Mr. Dacres, in good spirits at
his last resolve, had met her on the stairs, and
received her with the gallantry which he always
kept for what he called a fine woman. He could
have sung the "Light of her eye, that mirrors
the skies," over her, and called her his "jolie
Marie," which did not at all offend her.

"And how is our handsome colonel?" he
said, gaily, after these compliments. "But
what's up, my dear?"

"O mon Dieu, did you not hear, sir? He is
gone away to-night."

"Gone away!" he repeated, in genuine
amazement and anger. "What the deuce do
you mean, woman?"

"He went by the diligence. He was obliged
to go. He will return, he says, soon."

"Return, he says. Here's a business. The
scoundrel! I'll be after him, and drag him
back by the neck, the mean hound! Here,
Lucy, child, come out here." And, without
ceremony, he tore open her letter and read:

  "Dearest Lucy.    What will you think of
me! At half an hour's notice, I have to leave
this for Paris. But I shall be back in a week at
furthest. What I go for has something to do
with our happiness, and may help to smooth
away all difficulties. I shall count the hours
till I see you again.    Darling, take care of
yourself, and don't be disquieted.
                                        "Yours, VIVIAN."

CHAPTER XXXV. A BALL.

DISMAL evening! most mournful of nights!
For Mr. Dacres, having found that his
resources would not admit of his taking a chaise
at Sody's to overtake the diligence, and "bring
the blackguard back by the crop," had sunk
into a moody state, and over some of the poor
liquor of the country poured out grumblings
and frantic threats commingled.

Poor Lucy made a better show; but there
was a wistfulness in her face, and an eagerness
in her eye, which the skilful understood and
enjoyed. Still, she had hard trials at home, and the
ill-humour and at times fury of the brilliant and
genial Dacres were spent upon her lavishly.

The most curious change in him was a
recurrence to Mr. West. "It served you right.
There you had a sensible steady man, that loved
you, and would have cherished you all his life
long. A man of substance, too. None of your
skipjacks that are here to-day and gone in a
moment. I told you how it would be. I warned
you at the time, but I am never attended to."
Latterly, too, Dacres had been a good deal
harassed for money, and privately determined that