A little figure came tripping round the corner,
and bounded up to Mr. Tillotson. Ross started
back, and kept scowling at her.

"So this is the defendant, eh?" he said, scoffingly
indeed. "My name is Ross," he cried—
"'Ross and Davis.' I only found out by an
accident, last night, that you were married to
this Tillotson here. He didn't tell me, for
reasons of his own."

"It is hopeless," said Mr. Tillotson, calmly;
"this is always your resource—secret insinuation.
I give it up."

The young wife was looking with wonder from
one to the other. She could not understand this
scene.

"Secret insinuation," he said, contemptuously.
"I shall insinuate what I like. But this, I give
you open warning, Mr. and Mrs. Tillotson both,
and Mrs.Tillotson—particularly don't be sending
to me in any huggermuggering way to settle
or arrange. I'll do neither, if I were to go to a
jail, and rot, and die there."

Her eyes opened. "I never sent any one to
you," she said.

"Well, then, he came himself last night—
indeed it's more likely. He's very clever, our
friend here, as you'll find out, Mrs. T. And he
had very nearly taken me in. And so he is
married to the defendant in the great action. I
dare say he thinks it a good speculation. But it's
the worst thing that could have happened to you,
Mrs. Tillotson; for I might have come to terms
with you, before they send me to Gib., and I am
getting rather tired, but with him I'll fight to
the end."

"You have a bad, wicked soul, I am afraid,
Ross," said Mr. Tillotson, quite calmly; "nothing
will teach you."

"And what was this I heard," said Ross,
bursting into a sudden fury, as some recollection
came to him, "of his sneaking down to St.
Alans in the night to see that girl? So you've
not done with those tricks yet, married as you
are? Take care, take care, Tillotson; I'll have
to give you a lesson, and, by Heavens, I
may come back from Gibraltar and shoot you—
I would——"

"What does he mean?" said the young wife,
looking at her husband in terror. "What does
he say about a girl at St. Alans?"

Mr. Tillotson's pale face grew paler. "Don't
heed him, dear," he said. "He has some strange
dislike to me. God knows I have never done
anything to deserve it—except——" And he
stopped.

Ross's hand went up to his cheek instinctively.
"Ah, you are thinking of that" he said. "How
generous! How noble!"

"No, no," said the other, eagerly. "I never
intended—never."

"Didn't you? But I am glad it's there, very
glad, Tillotson. It's a good memorandum,
Tillotson. Never mind—all in good time. And
when I get back from Gib. with lots of money,
then, Mr. Tillotson——There's the omnibus. I'm
going on up to London for the hearing. So
good-bye to you, and to you, Mrs. Tillotson."

He raised his hat, and walked away. He left
doubt and confusion.

"What does all this mean?" she said,
timorously. "I never heard anything about this.
What did you say to him last night? Why did
you not tell me? And what did he mean by the
lady down at St. Alans? Was he telling
stories?"

Mr. Tillotson had often turned over in his
mind whether he had not better tell out plainly
the whole of this past passage in his life. But
he had considered that this would worry this
fragile and rather unreasoning heart, who would
be sure to take hold of it wrongly. So he turned
it off now, lightly. "We must not mind this
man's speeches. He says everything wildly and
frantically, and is indeed not accountable."

She made no answer to this, and went to her
room to finish her packing; but she took all she
heard away with her, thought it over and over
until her head grew weary, fed herself on that
dawning of suspicion, and determined, as soon as
she got home, to lay it all before Martha
Malcolm, of whose gloomy sense she had a high
opinion.

Two hours later their trunks were on the top
of the Ferry Hotel omnibus, and they were
travelling away up and down the steep hills to
the station. That night they were at home again;
that is, at a new handsome house, which had
been taken before they left, and to the appointments
of which the captain had looked with
singular care.

CHAPTER II. FIRST DOUBTS.

BACK in town again, in this pleasant, bright,
compact house, in a street as cheerful and
compact, Mr. and Mrs. Tillotson began their
new life. That is to say, he was seen again
at the Foncier Bank, and was commended
heartily by the chairman of that great concern.
"A very proper step indeed, Tillotson," said
Mr. Bowater. "I never was anything till I
married."

Of the new establishment both Miss Diamond
and the grim Martha Malcolm were members.
The young mistress had begged this almost as a
favour, for Mr. Tillotson had old-fashioned doubts
as to the policy of introducing a wife's relations.
Personally, he had no objection to either of those
people; in fact, was wholly indifferent. As she
begged so hard, and made such a point of it, he
said, "Of course, yes," and with a little surprise.

The captain remained on at his old lodgings,
bound under solemn penalties to come for his
dinner on at least every Sunday and holiday,
though, and on as many more secular festivals as
might possibly arise. And it was very pleasant,
about five o'clock of these days, to
see him proceeding with a stiff steady limp,
robed in his night cloak, and leaning on a
strong red Malacca cane, which he was
accustomed to call his "third leg." To these