my eyes on the ground, my head in the air,
and my hat off my forehead. When I found
two labourers touching their caps to me on
my way back to the town, I knew that it
was all right, and that I might now set the
vindictive eyes of Screw himself safely at
defiance.

I had not the most distant notion where I
was when I reached the High Street, and
stopped at The Green Bull Hotel and
Coach-office. However, I managed to
mention my modest wishes to be conveyed at
once in the direction of Wales, with no more
than a becoming confusion of manner. The
answer was not so encouraging as I could
have wished. The coach to Shrewsbury had
left an hour before, and there would be no
other public conveyance running in my
direction until the next morning. Finding
myself thus obliged to yield to adverse
circumstances, I submitted resignedly, and
booked a place outside by the next day's
coach, in the name of the Reverend John
Jones. I thought it desirable to be at once
unassuming and Welch in the selection of a
travelling name; and therefore considered
John Jones calculated to fit me, in my pre-
sent emergency, to a hair.

After securing a bed at the hotel, and
ordering a frugal curate's dinner (bit of fish,
two chops, mashed potatoes, semolina
pudding, half-pint of sherry), I sallied out to
look at the town. Not knowing the name of
it, and not daring to excite surprise by
asking, I found the place full of vague yet
mysterious interest. Here I was, somewhere in
Central England, just as ignorant of localities
as if I had been suddenly deposited in Central
Africa; my lively fancy revelled in the new
sensation. I invented a name for the town,
a code of laws for the inhabitants, productions,
antiquities, chalybeate springs, population,
statistics of crime, and so on, while I
walked about the streets, looked in at the
shop-windows, and attentively examined the
Market-place and Town-hall. Experienced
travellers, who have exhausted all novelties,
would do well to follow my example; they
may be certain, for one day at least, of
getting some fresh ideas, and feeling a new
sensation.

On returning to dinner in the coffee-room,
I found all the London papers on the table.

The Morning Post happened to lie upper-
most, so I took it away to my own seat to
occupy the time, while my unpretending bit
of fish was frying. Glancing lazily at the
advertisements on the first page, to begin
with, I was astounded by the appearance of
the following lines, at the top of a column:

"If F——K S—FTL—Y will communicate with his
distressed and alarmed relatives Mr. and Mrs.
B—TT—RB—RY, he will hear of something to his
advantage, and may he assured that all will be once
more forgiven. A—B—LLA entreats him to write."

What, in the name of all that is most
mysterious, does this mean! was my first thought
after reading the advertisement. Can Lady
Malkinshaw have taken a fresh lease of that
impregnable vital tenement at the door of
which Death has been knocking vainly for so
many years past? (Nothing more likely.)
Was my felonious connection with Doctor
Knapton suspected? (It seemed improbable.)
One thing, however, was certain: I was
missed, and the Batterburys were naturally
anxious about me—anxious enough to
advertise in the public papers. I debated with
myself whether I should answer their pathetic
appeal or not. I had all my money about
me (having never let it out of my own pos-
session during my stay in the red-brick
house); and there was plenty of it for the
present; so I thought it best to leave the
alarm and distress of my anxious relatives
unrelieved for a little while longer, and to
return quietly to the perusal of the Morning
Post.

Five minutes of desultory reading brought
me unexpectedly to an explanation of the
advertisement, in the shape of the following
paragraph:

"ALARMING ILLNESS OF LADY MALKINSHAW.—
We regret to announce that this venerable lady was
seized with an alarming illness on Saturday last, at her
mansion in town. The attack took the character of a
fit—of what precise nature we have not been able to
learn. Her ladyship's medical attendant and near
relative, Doctor Softly, was immediately called in, and
predicted the most fatal results. Fresh medical
attendance was secured, and her ladyship's nearest
surviving relatives, Mrs. Softly, and Mr. and Mrs. Batterbury,
of Duskydale Park, were summoned. At the
time of their arrival, her ladyship's condition was
comatose, her breathing being highly stertorous. If
we are rightly informed, Doctor Softly and the other
medical gentlemen present, gave it as their opinion that
if the pulse of the venerable sufferer did not rally in
the course of a quarter-of-an-hour at most, very lamentable
results might be anticipated. For fourteen
minutes, as our reporter was informed, no change took
place; but, strange to relate, immediately afterwards
her ladyship's pulse rallied suddenly in the most
extraordinary manner. She was observed to open her eyes
very wide, and was heard, to the surprise and delight
of all surrounding the couch, to ask why her ladyship's
usual lunch of chicken-broth with a glass of Amontillado
sherry was not placed on the table as usual.
These refreshments having been produced, under the
sanction of the medical gentlemen, the aged patient
partook of them with an appearance of the utmost
relish. Since this happy alteration for the better, her
ladyship's health has, we rejoice to say, rapidly
improved; and the answer now given to all friendly and
fashionable inquirers is, in the venerable lady's own
humorous phraseology, ' Much better than could he
expected.'"

Well done, my excellent grandmother!
my firm, my unwearied, my undying friend!
Never can I say that my case is desperate
while you can swallow your chicken-broth
and sip your Amontillado sherry. The
moment I want money, I will write to Mr.
Batterbury, and cut another little golden