their hands in their pockets and send you a thousand pounds.

Who is it--eh? I see the post-mark on the letter is "Venice."
Have you any friend in that interesting city, with a large heart,

and a purse to correspond, who has been let into the secret and who wishes
to console you anonymously?'

It was not easy to reply to this. Mrs. Ferrari began to feel
the first inward approaches of something like hatred towards Mr. Troy.

'I don't understand you, sir,' she answered. 'I don't think this is
a joking matter.'

Agnes interfered, for the first time. She drew her chair a little
nearer to her legal counsellor and friend.

'What is the most probableexplanation, in your opinion?'
she asked.

'I shall offend Mrs. Ferrari if I tell you,' Mr. Troy answered.
'No, sir, you won't!' cried Mrs. Ferrari, hating Mr. Troy

undisguisedly by this time.
The lawyer leaned back in his chair. 'Very well,' he said, in his

most good-humoured manner. 'Let's have it out. Observe, madam,
I don't dispute your view of the position of affairs at the palace

in Venice. You have your husband's letters to justify you;
and you have also the significant fact that Lady Montbarry's

maid did really leave the house. We will say, then, that Lord
Montbarry has presumably been made the victim of a foul wrong--

that Mr. Ferrari was the first to find it out--and that the guilty
persons had reason to fear, not only that he would acquaint Lord

Montbarry with his discovery, but that he would be a principal witness
against them if the scandal was made public in a court of law.

Now mark! Admitting all this, I draw a totally different
conclusion from the conclusion at which you have arrived.

Here is your husband left in this miserable household of three,
under very awkward circumstances for him. What does he do?

But for the bank-note and the written message sent to you with it,
I should say that he had wiselywithdrawn himself from association

with a disgraceful discovery and exposure, by takingsecretly to flight.
The money modifies this view--unfavourably so far as Mr. Ferrari

is concerned. I still believe he is keeping out of the way. But I
now say he is paid for keeping out of the way--and that bank-note there

on the table is the price of his absence, sent by the guilty persons to
his wife.'

Mrs. Ferrari's watery grey eyes brightened suddenly; Mrs. Ferrari's
dull drab-coloured complexion became enlivened by a glow of brilliant red.

'It's false!' she cried. 'It's a burning shame to speak of my
husband in that way!'

'I told you I should offend you!' said Mr. Troy.
Agnes interposed once more--in the interests of peace. She took

the offended wife's hand; she appealed to the lawyer to reconsider
that side of his theory which reflected harshly on Ferrari.

While she was still speaking, the servant interrupted her by entering
the room with a visiting-card. It was the card of Henry Westwick;

and there was an ominous request written on it in pencil.
'I bring bad news. Let me see you for a minute downstairs.'

Agnes immediately left the room.
Alone with Mrs. Ferrari, Mr. Troy permitted his natural kindness

of heart to show itself on the surface at last. He tried to make
his peace with the courier's wife.

'You have every claim, my good soul, to resent a reflection cast upon
your husband,' he began. 'I may even say that I respect you for speaking

so warmly in his defence. At the same time, remember, that I am bound,
in such a serious matter as this, to tell you what is really in my mind.

I can have no intention of offending you, seeing that I am a total
stranger to you and to Mr. Ferrari. A thousand pounds is a large

sum of money; and a poor man may excusably be tempted by it
to do nothing worse than to keep out of the way for a while.

My only interest, acting on your behalf, is to get at the truth.
If you will give me time, I see no reason to despair of finding your

husband yet.'
Ferrari's wife listened, without being convinced: her narrow little mind,

filled to its extremecapacity by her unfavourable opinion of Mr. Troy,
had no room left for the process of correcting its first impression.

'I am much obliged to you, sir,' was all she said. Her eyes were
more communicative--her eyes added, in their language, 'You may say

what you please; I will never forgive you to my dying day.'
Mr. Troy gave it up. He composedly wheeled his chair around,

put his hands in his pockets, and looked out of window.
After an interval of silence, the drawing-room door was opened.

Mr. Troy wheeled round again briskly to the table, expecting to see Agnes.
To his surprise there appeared, in her place, a perfect stranger to him--

a gentleman, in the prime of life, with a marked expression of pain
and embarrassment on his handsome face. He looked at Mr. Troy,

and bowed gravely.
'I am so unfortunate as to have brought news to Miss Agnes Lockwood

which has greatly distressed her,' he said. 'She has retired to her room.
I am requested to make her excuses, and to speak to you in her place.'

Having introduced himself in those terms, he noticed Mrs. Ferrari,
and held out his hand to her kindly. 'It is some years since we

last met, Emily,' he said. 'I am afraid you have almost forgotten
the "Master Henry" of old times.' Emily, in some little confusion,

made her acknowledgments, and begged to know if she could be of any
use to Miss Lockwood. 'The old nurse is with her,' Henry answered;

'they will be better left together.' He turned once more to Mr. Troy.
'I ought to tell you,' he said, 'that my name is Henry Westwick. I am

the younger brother of the late Lord Montbarry.'
'The late Lord Montbarry!' Mr. Troy exclaimed.

'My brother died at Venice yesterday evening. There is the telegram.'
With that startling answer, he handed the paper to Mr. Troy.

The message was in these words:
'Lady Montbarry, Venice. To Stephen Robert Westwick,

Newbury's Hotel, London. It is useless to take the journey.
Lord Montbarry died of bronchitis, at 8.40 this evening.

All needful details by post.'
'Was this expected, sir?' the lawyer asked.

'I cannot say that it has taken us entirely by surprise, Henry answered.
'My brother Stephen (who is now the head of the family) received a

telegram three days since, informing him that alarming symptoms had
declared themselves, and that a second physician had been called in.

He telegraphed back to say that he had left Ireland for London,
on his way to Venice, and to direct that any further message

might be sent to his hotel. The reply came in a second telegram.
It announced that Lord Montbarry was in a state of insensibility,

and that, in his brief intervals of consciousness, he recognised nobody.
My brother was advised to wait in London for later information.

The third telegram is now in your hands. That is all I know, up to the
present time.'

Happening to look at the courier's wife, Mr. Troy was struck
by the expression of blank fear which showed itself in the woman's face.

'Mrs. Ferrari,' he said, 'have you heard what Mr. Westwick has
just told me?'

'Every word of it, sir.'
'Have you any questions to ask?'

'No, sir.'
'You seem to be alarmed,' the lawyer persisted. 'Is it still

about your husband?'
'I shall never see my husband again, sir. I have thought so all along,

as you know. I feel sure of it now.'
'Sure of it, after what you have just heard?'

'Yes, sir.'
'Can you tell me why?'

'No, sir. It's a feeling I have. I can't tell why.'
'Oh, a feeling?' Mr. Troy repeated, in a tone of compassionate contempt.

'When it comes to feelings, my good soul--!' He left the sentence
unfinished, and rose to take his leave of Mr. Westwick. The truth is,

he began to feel puzzled himself, and he did not choose to let
Mrs. Ferrari see it. 'Accept the expression of my sympathy, sir,'