pence-three-farthings. Ha! ha! ha! Excuse
me, Mr. Gilmore. I must have my little
joke."

"Little enough!" I remarked. "The joke is
just worth the odd farthing it was made for."

Mr. Merriman was delighted. He laughed over
my retort till the room rang again. I was not
half so good-humoured, on my side: I came
back to business, and closed the interview.

"This is Friday," I said. "Give us till
Tuesday next for our final answer."

"By all means," replied Mr. Merriman.
"Longer, my dear sir, if you like." He took
up his hat to go; and then addressed me again.
"By the way," he said, "your clients in
Cumberland have not heard anything more of the
woman who wrote the anonymous letter, have
they?"

"Nothing more," I answered. "Have you
found no trace of her?"

"Not yet," said my legal friend. "But we
don't despair. Sir Percival has his suspicions
that Somebody is keeping her in hiding; and
we are having that Somebody watched."

''You mean the old woman who was with her
in Cumberland?" I said.

"Quite another party, sir," answered Mr.
Merriman. "We don't happen to have laid hands
on the old woman yet. Our Somebody is a man.
We have got him close under our eye here in
London; and we strongly suspect he had
something to do with helping her in the first instance
to escape from the Asylum. Sir Percival wanted
to question him, at once; but I said, 'No.
Questioning him will only put him on his guard:
watch him, and wait.' We shall see what
happens. A dangerous woman to be at large,
Mr. Gilmore; nobody knows what she may do
next. I wish you good morning, sir. On
Tuesday next I shall hope for the pleasure of
hearing from you." He smiled amiably, and
went out.

My mind had been rather absent during the
latter part of the conversation with my legal
friend. I was so anxious about the matter of
the settlement, that I had little attention to
give to any other subject; and, the moment I
was left alone again, I began to think over what
my next proceeding ought to be.

In the case of any other client, I should have
acted on my instructions, however personally
distasteful to me, and have given up the point about
the twenty thousand pounds on the spot. But I
could not act with this business-like indifference
towards Miss Fairlie. I had an honest feeling
of affection and admiration for her; I remembered
gratefully that her father had been the
kindest patron and friend to me that ever man
had; I had felt towards her, while I was drawing
the settlement, as I might have felt, if I had
not been an old bachelor, towards a daughter of
my own; and I was determined to spare no
personal sacrifice in her service and where her
interests were concerned. Writing a second
time to Mr. Fairlie was not to be thought of;
it would only be giving him a second
opportunity of slipping through my fingers. Seeing
him and personally remonstrating with him,
might possibly be of more use. The next day
was Saturday. I determined to take a return
ticket, and jolt my old bones down to Cumberland,
on the chance of persuading him to adopt
the just, the independent, and the honourable
course. It was a poor chance enough, no doubt;
but, when I had tried it, my conscience would
be at ease. I should then have done all that a
man in my position could do to serve the interests
of my old friend's only child.

The weather on Saturday was beautiful, a
west wind and a bright sun. Having felt
latterly a return of that fulness and oppression
of the head, against which my doctor warned
me so seriously more than two years since, I
resolved to take the opportunity of getting a
little extra exercise, by sending my bag on before
me, and walking to the terminus in Euston-
square. As I came out into Holborn, a gentleman,
walking by rapidly, stopped and spoke
to me. It was Mr. Walter Hartright.

If he had not been the first to greet me, I
should certainly have passed him. He was so
changed that I hardly knew him again. His
face looked pale and haggard — his manner was
hurried and uncertain — and his dress, which I
remembered as neat and gentlemanlike when I
saw him at Limmeridge, was so slovenly,
now, that I should really have been ashamed
of the appearance of it on one of my own
clerks.

"Have you been long back from Cumberland?"
he asked. "I heard from Miss
Halcombe lately. I am aware that Sir Percival
Glyde's explanation has been considered
satisfactory. Will the marriage take place soon?
Do you happen to know, Mr. Gilmore?"

He spoke so fast, and crowded his questions
together so strangely and confusedly, that I
could hardly follow him. However accidentally
intimate he might have been with the family at
Limmeridge, I could not see that he had any
right to expect information on their private
affairs; and I determined to drop him, as easily
as might be, on the subject of Miss Fairlie's
marriage.

"Time will show, Mr. Hartright," I said—
"time will show. I dare say if we look out for
the marriage in the papers we shall not be far
wrong. Excuse my noticing it — but I am sorry
to see you not looking so well as you were
when we last met."

A momentary nervous contraction quivered
about his lips and eyes, and made me half
reproach myself for having answered him in such
a significantly guarded manner.

"l had no right to ask about her marriage,"
he said, bitterly. "I must wait to see it in the
newspapers like other people. Yes," he went on,
before I could make any apologies, "I have not
been well lately. I want a change of scene and
occupation. You have a large circle of acquaintance,
Mr. Gilmore. If you should hear of any
expedition abroad which may be in want of a
draughtsman, and if you have no friend of your
own who can take advantage of the opportunity,