Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, January 2, 1897, Page 2

BY AORICE'H. HERVEY CHAPTER VII—(Continued.) “Well, Mr. -h’m——Mr. Skinner, apart altogether from the fact that bank managers do not habitually di- vulge their clients’ addresses to inquir- ing ladies or to their agents, I am afraid I could not help you in this matter, even if I wished to. I do not know Mr. Norton’s whereabouts my- self.” Mr. Skinner genuine surpr unusual, I take it, sir, ventured to ask. »what so, I dare say,” was the forgot to ask Mr. Norton red at the speaker, in “That is somewhat it not?’ he address, and it never occurred to him, I suppose, to give it. Anyhow, the fact i: I tell you. When Mr. Norton calls, I shall inform him of these inqu Meanwhile, good day, r. er——Skinner.”” ne question more, if you please, pleaded the detective. “It has a most important bearing on the case. Did Mr. Norton, upon the occasion of his v deposit with you a quantity of very valuable jewelry, either in his ame or in that of my _ client, a, to whem it belongs?” y not!” tiently. f a purely financial and uracter.”” item of information to con- ir. Skinner was fain to beat ; and, indeed, the longer he 1 upon Norton's omission to the jewels, the stronger grew his conviction that he had fathomed the true reason of his disappearance. Moreov totally d i Irom a professional point of view Norton could no longer be regarded as a faithless lover, but as a n0n, absconding thief. don’t much like telling her so t out,” muttered the detective us he wended his way to et. “She does seem so un- mp. But I ser, imy with me w personal ¢ Craven s ” he began, with a short cough, “I haven't yet bman who drove Mr. Nor- aterloo; but I'm pretty cer- all from him before the imed Zana. “That is in- deed good news; for, of course, this cabman will be able to inform you of Ernes destination after he left the station. Most like! up to a certain point,” assented Mr. Skinner drily, “though I don’t for a moment suppose the young gentleman stopped at the place where he di ‘ged the driver. I fancy he’s too ¢ a hand for that. Still, it would be the first stage, at all events, upon his track.” “What do you mean?” demanded Zana nervously, for there was that in the man’s tone which alarmed her. “I can best answer that question, ss, by ing you two or three,” was the reply irst of all, what did Mr. Norton tell you was his first and most Silcntly She Buried Her Face in Her Hands, impertant object in hurrying up to London?” “Lo procure the special license. You know that.” “Well,” pursued Mr. Skinner, “you found, upon inquiry, that he took no steps wh: sr to procure that license, although he might easily have done so, either befcre or after he called at the bank.” “He was prevented frem doing so,” protested “I tell you he muct have been prevented.” The detective shrugged his shoulders as though pitying the girl’s blindness to patent facts. “Have it so,” he said a little irritably. “And now tell me what was his prin- cipal object in visiting the bank? Was {t to place your jewels there for safe keeping2, Did he not tell you so him- self?” “He told me he would do,” admitted Zana. “Very well,” pursued Mr. Skinner. Now, as a matter of fact, he di@ visit the bank, transacted some business of his own, but deposited no jewelry whatever. It is not a pleasant task for me to have to put the case thus plainly before you. But cannot you see the inevitable conclusion to which these facts point—to say nothing of his fail- ure to meet you at the station, or to communicate with you ever since? The cool, calculating tones of the de- tective’s view, perhaps even more than the inexorable logic of the words, fell upon the girl’s heart like some icy, giliceous torrent, and seemed to turn {t to stone. Silently she buried her face in her hands and, save for an agonized quivering of her slight form, remained thus motionless during sey- eral minutes. “She'll have what womenfolk call a good cry, presently,” thought Mr. Skin- ner, “and then she'll feel better.” But for once his judgment was at fault. There was not the faintest trace of a tear in Zana’s eyes when she at length removed her hands from her face. On the contrary, they had in them a baleful fire, which the experi- encéd detective instinctively labelled “dangerous,” in his own mind. “You would have me to believe,” she said, speaking very slowly and dis- tinetly, “that Ernest Norton is not only a traitor and a liar, but that lie is, furthermore, a thief?” “Well, miss,” was the reply, “you put it rather more broadly than I cared to, but that’s about the size of it; and IT think I have given you proofs enough to satisfy even you.” “You have,” she assented, after a momentary pause. “You have pieced the evidence together as I, in my blind love, could never have done. Yes, it is all clear enough to me now. Ernest Norton deserted me once before, and I was mad enough to follow him. He has deserted me again, and a second time I have tried to follow him. Let him go where he will. And so ends this miserable chapter in my life.” “Pardon me, my dear young lady,” remonstrated Mr. Skinner energetic- ally, “but the chapter is not ended “The Man Was Not Earnest Morton at ALL’ yet; or, if it is, there is another to fol- low, with a rather different ending to it. You see, for a young man to de- sert his sweetheart isn’t any crime in the eyes of the law, however mean and dastardly it may look in the eyes of all right-minded people. But for that young man to bolt off with his sweetheart’s property in his possession is a very serious matter indeed. You shall come with me to Bow street to- morrow and lay a sworn information that will set the entire machinery of the criminal investigation department in motion. Mark my words, the next session will see Mr. Ernest Norton neatly fitted with a sentence of from five to ten years’ penal servitude. And I daresay you will get most of your jewelry back.” Zana heard him patiently to the end. “J shall have no hand or part in his punishment,” she said coolly, “and most certainly I shall not go to Bow street to do as you propose. As for the money and jewels, since they are the price of which he has bartered his own honor and my love, let him keep them!” “But, my dear young lady!” exclaim- ed Mr. Skinner, utterly aghast at so un- business-like decision. “Pray reflect! You surely will not allow yourself to be tricked and robbed without making an effort to bring the culprit to justice and to recover what belongs to you! The idea is simply monstrous!” * “J have reflected,” Zana answered, “and have given you my decision.” “Then where do I and the police come in?’ demanded Mr. Skinner ex- citedly. “Nothing can be done without a warrant, and to obtain that it is es- sential that you should consent to pros- ecute.” “Which I refuse to do,’ ’she replied decidedly. “Pray, let us understand each other. I sought your assistance to find Ernest Norton, not to hunt him down as a criminal. I am very grate- ful to you for the efforts you have made, but I shall need your services no farther. And, with my thanks, please accept this.” “What! Another £50 note!” exclaim- ed the detective, glancing at the prof- fered paper. “Not if I know it! Josiah Skinner may have had to do a queer thing now and then, in the way of bus- iness, but he ain’t exactly a horse- leec! Why! The first note you gave me isn’t half earned yet!” “Then good-by, Mr. Skinner,” said Zana, wearily. ou can do no more for me... . unless—” “Unless what, miss? Heaven knows I’m willing enough to do my best—if you'd only let me!” “Unless,” she continued, staring moodily into the fire, “it be to make quite sure that Ernest Norton really did call at the bank.” “She’s going a bit off her head,” mut- tered the detective. “This trouble has proved too much for her. All right, miss,” he added aloud, “I'll see to that just to satisfy you. Meanwhile, if I ‘were you I would take a good, long, brisk walk; it is what I always do my- self when things go wrong. ‘lhink well over what I told you about the war- rant, for I simply refuse to accept your present decision as final.” And so he left her, still staring blankly into the fire. Finding no news at Exeter street from the cab inspectors, he decided to fulfil what he regarded as the very perfunctory task of again calling at the bank, merely in fulfilment of his promise. But, lacking the audacity to beard the manager in his sanctum once more, he this time addressed himself to the cashier, whom he found tem- porarily disengaged and disposed to be chatty. “It’s about this Mr. Ernest Norton,” explained Mr. Skinner, in his most apologetic tone. “You see, I promised the young lady I would call here—” “Oh, I understand,” remarked the cashier. “Of course, she’s very anx- fous, poor girl. Well, you may tell her that we have had no news of Mr. Nor- ton as yet.” “Of course you would know him by sight?” put in Mr. Skinner. “Know him?” repeated the cashier. “Rather. A very common looking man altogether, with the most piercing pair of grey eyes I ever saw in a human ! head.” “Piercing grey eyes, you say?” ob- served the detective, producing his note book and turning over the leaves rapidly. ‘‘Hair}’” “Darkish.” “Not brown?” “Well, a very dark brown, perhaps.” “Moustache?” “None at all.” “Height?” almost gasped Mr. Skin- ner staring eagerly at his notes. “A bit above the ordinary, I think,” said the cashier, marvelling somewhat at all the cross-questioning. “But not six feet?’ queried the de tective breathlessly. “No, most certainly not.” Mr. Josiah Skinner gave one long sigh, replaced his note book in his pocket, blew his nose with great ve- hemence, and, looking the astonished cashier squarely in the face, gravely remarked: “Then you may inform your manager, with my compliments, that the man who called here was not Ernest Norton at agl!” {™ He scarce pitsed Fa note the effect of his startling-woefds upon the aston- ished cashier, whom he left literally open-mouthed with amazement. If these bank people wanted any further information they might obtain it by calling in Exeter street. As for him- self, his course was now sufliciently plain. The case had now passed be- yond the province of mere private in- quiry; for, not alone had Ernest Nor- ton disappeared, but some one had per- sonated him at the bank. The person- ator, whoever he might be, must not alone be a man of extraordinary au- dacity to palm himself off in a bank as aclient, whom he in no wise resembled, but he must furthermore have felt perfectly secure of any interference from the real Ernest Norton. “Josiah, my lad, you’ve been bark- ing up the wrong tree,” soliliquized Mr. Skinner. “It is the clean-shaved man, with the piercing grey eys, ‘who holds the threads of this little mystery. He'll have to be found before Mr. Nor- ton will be heard of; and ,although the job of hunting him down would be very much to your taste, I’m afraid you'll have to pass it over to the Scotland Yard people.” Should he tell Zana? No; not yet, at all events. Better she should deem her lover faithless than get the idea into her head that he had been the victim of foul play. And so, out of real kind- ness, Josiah resolved to keep out of her way for a time. He was, of course, well known to the authorities at Scotland Yard ;indeed, he had served on the regular detective force for upward of twenty years. He had ,therefore, no difficulty in gaining immediate access to the chief of the department- and so letting loose the en, tire pack of detective sleuth-hounds upon the trail of the clean-shaven man with the piercing eyes. CHAPTER VII. Mrs. Ratten Gets a New Lodger. For several hours after Josiah Skin- ner had left her, Zana sat staring into the fire as though the warmth of the glowing embers could pass through her eyes and so thaw her frozen heart. She was trying to think, to realize what Ernest’s desertion meant to her, to decide upon some course of action. But she could not. Her brain seemed numbed and incapable of traveling be- yond the one deadly fact that her lover had, for the second time, aban- doned her . The entrance of a servant with after- noon tea at length aroused her from this state of dreamy stupor; and, with the awakening, came a sudden impulse to quit her present abode. It was some- how borne in upon her that, whatever her future plans might be, they would no longer include the supervision of Mrs. Baxter. “J wish to have my Dill this even- ing ,if you please,” she told the ser- vant. “Certainly, miss,” was the reply. Zana drank some of the tea and then followed Mr. Skinner’s advice by going out for a walk. But somehow she felt weak and unequal to the task of walking. An omnibus, labelod Ham- mersmith, halted close by. She no- ticed that several ladies were seated upon the roof, doubtless for the sake of fresh air. This she also needed, and she, too, would ride on the roof. Per- haps the fresh air and the novelty of the ride would help to clear her poor, clouded brain. Certainly, anything was better than to sit brooding over a fire in the hotel. It is a long drive from Charing Cross to Hammersmith. The unwonted sights and sounds around her resulted in di- yerting Zana’s mind, for the time at least, from the full depth of her mis- ery; and by the time the omnibus reached its destination she had some- what regained the power of thought. She ascertained that she could re- turn to Charing Cross by another ’bus up to a late hour, and then, obeying some wandering instinct, she walked down a quiet-looking side street to think out the problem of her future movements. What was she to do? Where was she to go? Return to Bom- bay} Never! Her father would spurn “You Have Apartments to Let?” her from his door as an outcast, if, in- deed, he did not slay her in the first heat of his wrath. She must have time to think this matter out ;and meanwhile her first care must be to secure @ lodging of some sort to which ae mete retire after quitting the otel . Upon the windows of many of the houses she saw cards announcing “Apartments to Let.” Hammersmith was a distant, out-of-the-way region; why not engage rooms in one of. these houses? She selected one, almost at random ,and knocked at the door, which was opened by the landlady her- self, a shrewd-looking but not ill-fa- vored woman of middle age. “You have apartments to let?’ in- quired Zana. “Yes,” was the prompt response. “There’s the drawing rooms at thirty- five shillings, and’ a back bedroom on the second fluor at fifteen.” Here the woman glanced keenly at her visitor to see how these prices seemed to suit her. “Perhaps you would like to see them?” she added, apparently satisfied by the scrutiny. “If you please,” assented Zana. The inspection stopped at what the landlady had described as the “darw- ing rooms,” a fairly well furnished sitting room connected by folding doors with a bedroom. “These will suit me,” after a brief look around her. come this evening?” To have her rooms thus promptly taken without any attempt on the lodg- er’s part to abate the rent was new to Mrs. Ratten’s experience. Her last tenant had paid but twenty-three shil- lings for these very rooms. Yet, harpy- like, she now regretted she had not asked two guineas. “Of course, there'll be extras,” she hastened to explain, “such as gas, bath, boot-cleaning and so forth. And then, if you should require any cooking done that would be extra also.” “Very well,” assented Zana. “I asked you if you can receive me this evening. My luggage is at Charing Cross.” “Why, yes,” was the reply. “The rooms are all ready. But it is usual to pay the first week in advance.” “Is it?’ said Zana, producing her purse. “Then I had better give you two pounds.” Mrs. Ratten pocketed the money eagerly jnor did she trouble about giving a receipt, having doubtless a good memory for such small matters. She then gave Zana a card an dinform- ed her that she might come at any time up to 11 o’clock. Whereupon Zana re- traced her steps, took a return omni- bus and was in due course deposited at Craven street. In settling her bill she bethought her of ascertaining exactly how much money she had in her possession, and found that she had £326, a sum, as it appeared to her, sufficient to last her a long time, living quietly at Mrs. Rat- ten’s. Then she wrote to Mrs. Baxter, merely stating that she had received ample proofs of Ernest’s unworthiness, and had given up all thoughts of seek- ing for him. “Please take care of my luggage,” she added, “until I send or call for it. It may be some time before you will again hear from me, as I have not as yet thought out my plans; but pray do said Zana, “May I “I Will Look in Upon This Young Woman.” not distress me by seeking to follow my movements until I write again.” Mindful of Mr. Skinner’s attempt to trace Ernest Norton through the cab- men, she had her portmanteau and other belongings carried to Charing Cross railway station, and, not until the hotel porter had departed did she venture to take a cab. She was then driven to Hammersmith and entered into possession of the over-rated draw- ing rooms. If the unwonted excitement and movement attendant upon her change of residence had momentarily served to divert her thoughts from the great sorrow of her young life, the reaction set in, with added poignancy, in the solitude of the Hammersmith lodgings. Occasionally, in sheer desperation, she went for a walk; but her days were mainly spent indoors, sorrowing over the past and vainly striving to devise some plan of life for the future. There were times, indeed, when the temptation to put an end to all this wretchedness was almost more than she could withstand. What easier than to hurl herself from Hammersmith bridge into the dark swift river be- low? But she had been taught by her mother to obey the laws of Him who has said, “Thou shalt do no murder,” and therefore she forebore. To Mrs. Ratten the new lodger was an unfathomable mystery. Here was a young girl, a very pretty girl, with no apparent occupation, and evidently | well supplied with money, who, in- | stead of enjoying all these good gifts j of fortune, was plainly moping and fretting herself to death. Why? Well, lof course, she must be in love; that was quite certain. Had she run away from home to join her lover? Her age and the scantiness of her luggage fa- yored this supposition ; but, if so, where was the man? Then, too, she was clearly a foreigner, although she spoke English very well. Spanish or Italian, to judge by her eyes, hair and complexion. And, of course, foreign- ers, as everybody knows, never act like ordinary Christian folk. How- ever ,the important fact remained that Miss Clifford (Zana had temporarily assumed her mother’s name) paid her bills punctually and unquestioningly; and therefore much in the way of ec- centricity and love of solitude might be forgiven her. Consequently, in the way of attention and civility, Zana had little to complain of. Now the rooms beneath hers—the “parlors,” in landlady parlance—were tenanted by a good. looking, yellow- haired young woman, calling herself Fitzclarence—Miss Daisy Fitzclarence; and her mode of life stood out in very, marked contrast with Zana’s. What- ever her profession might be she al- ways looked so gay and happy that Zana could scarce refrain from envy- ing her. Miss Fitvclarence was on terms of Pein: considerable intimacy with Mrs. Rat- ten (as sometimes happens between tenant and landlady), and gradually eame to share that inquisitive wom- an’s interest in the hermit up stairs. “Who on earth can she be?” she asked one afternoon, as, clad in a peignor and lounging upon a sofa, she listened to the landlady’s gossip. “I can’t make her out,’ was the re- ply. “She has evidently plenty of money; and yet she chooses to bury herself down here in Hammersmith for no other purpose that I can see than to worry and fret all day long.” ~“Plenty of money,” repeated Miss Fitzclarence, with a hard little laugh, “no occupation, young, pretty. That's Zana Stared at Her Unbidden Guest. rather tough, isn’t it, Mother Ratten?” “Tough or tender, it’s true,” retorted Mrs. Ratten sharply . “All right, Mother R.!” laughed the girl. “Have it your own way. She don’t drink much champagne, does she?” “No,” she replied sulkily, “of course she doesn’t.” Miss Fitzclarence smiled approv- ingly. “T'll tell you what it is,” she remark- ed after a pause, “I’ll just look in upon | as this young woman of yours and see what she has to say of herself.” Mrs. Ratten at first demurred to this proposal upon the grounds that the recluse might take fright at her v itor’s somewhat free-and-easy manne and>*seek apartments elsewhere. upon the latter's assu ce that sh would be upon her very best bel; she at length consented to the experi- ment being made. Zana was staring aimless! deserted street, i when she of vigorous rap aroused by ps at the deor. “Come in,” she said wearily; and larence entered, still clad in the peignoir, but looking very neat and Miss I cheerful. “I am Daisy Fitzclarence,” she be- gan. “I occupy the rooms below these, you know, and as we are fellow lodg- ers I thought I ought to give you a look-up.” Zana stared at her unbidden visitor | in unaffected surprise. Of English cus- toms she knew little or nothing; pe haps it was usual for strangers living in the same house thus to strike up acquaintance. She would far rather be left alone, but she did not wish to appear churlish, and it really seemed kindly meant on the part of this yel- low-haired girl thus to enliven her soli- tude. “It is very good of you,” she stam- mered a little awkwardly, “and I’m sure you mean to be kind, bu “But, upon the whole, you'd rather | lover. have my room than my company, eh?’ interrupted Daisy Fitzclarence with a a bit , as we all are at times. But I say, you know fretting merry laugh. “I see. You're down on your lu But, | long ago grown weary of into the 1, pleased to be once more left alone. Upon reflection she scarcely knew whether to feel annoyed at or grate- ful for this invasion of her solitude. It seemed ungrateful to resent a visit ayowedly made with the kindest in- tentions, and yet she felt that she did, to a certain extent, resent it. She had come to Hammersmith in search of ab- solute quiet, not of sympathy or com- panionship. And doubtless she would succeed in making Miss Fitzclarence understand this without hurting her feelings by saying so too plainly. And there, for the present, she let the mat- ter rest. It must be remembered that Zana, so far as knowledge of the world went, ignorant and as innocent as a six-year-old child. Of the countless pitfalls prepared for the feet of the un- wary, in a great city, she knew noth- ing whate That knowledge, and much more knowledge, w: learned. CHAPTER IX, A Bold Venture. For one reason or another, chiefly, perhaps, from in indefiniteness of purpose end vility to decide hur- riediy upon the merits of the rival schools of medicine in Germany, R ard Somerville had postponed his de- i re from Paris. Doubtless the at- y y went some although in detaining h ny ostentatious life, this had been due more to I innate aversi r he had ample funds at his disposal, he had a strong feeling of remorse to fight down, and, like many a better man, he was tempted to deaden con- science (if he could not stifle it) by a period of self-indulgence. Moreover, he spoke French well and German very badly. ‘Phe Trench medical schocls would, he ued, do as well any others for tart upon his chosen life's work. And for all these ms he remained in the French . dving very little real work and ticipating freely in such pleasures me to his hand. Thoughts of his troubled him not at all. He had her faded humors. So rea charms and lachrymose s he paid the allo ce regular- would be comfortable enough rborough with her mother. intimation he received that ed upon thin ice with re- The fir he still n | spect to past events came from a para- ani M enger. ance—Among at Southamp- mer Pesha ton, by the upon April 6t wealthy y engineer, Mr. mest C. Norton. He left for London that same evening and is known to have arrived safely at Waterloo; but beyond this nothing has been ascertained of his movements. a time it s believed that he had ited his bankers upon the following but it now turns out that he was uccesstully personated upon this oc- casion by a gentleman in no wise even : | resembling him. An additional and ro- mantic interest attaches to this strange j affair from the et that a young and beautiful girl of high Indian parentage to whom he was about to be married, as the sequel to a runaway match, has devoted herself, th the stance of a well known private inquiry agency, to the task of tracing her missing As , We understand, no se- rious suspicion of foul play has been entertained; but, immediately upon the fact. of the personation becoming known, the case was placed in the hands of the Scotland Yard authori- ties. The sum thus fraudulently ob- he had heretofore led a very quiet, un- ~ by yourself won’t mend matters, and is the worst thing possible for the complexion. Do you know what I do when I feel down in the mouth?” “N—o,” said Zana, not knowing what tained informed, to at the bank amounts, we are several thousands of cursed Zana has been at it else to reply nor what to do under this | again ever sin unexpected invasion. muttered $ ' ishing “I just have a pint of Moet on my ; the paper in his hands. “I might have own,” explained Da . guessed she will never rest till she “IT don’t quite un and you,” fal-| finds out what has become of him. tered Zana. Fool that ve been! At all ris I “No? Well, in plain English, if you will authorize me to order a bottle of champagne at your expense I'll help you to drink it.” « “I very seldom touch wine,” said Zana, utterly bewildered by the cool audacity of this proposal; “but if you wish for some, pray order it.” th Daisy needed no second telling and | S! at once set the bell into lively motion. “Now, then, Mother R.,” she cried, when the landlady appeared in answer to the summons, “just bring us a bot- tle of Moet in record time. I am pre- scribing for Miss Clifford.” would probably have instant flight to the remotest, obscur- | est place he could think of. Mrs. Ratten indulged in a grim little smile of satisfaction and departed to fetch the wine. No doubt her reserved | ¢T lodger would thaw somewhat under the champagne, if only she could be | % persuaded to take enough of it. “Smart girl, Daisy,” she muttered as she descended the stairs, “as smart as they make ’em.” ought to h: mediate consequences to him publicity th course admitted deed, might not know the name, or might have forgotten it, but his wife must be reckoned w' e secured or silenced her!” Then his thoughts ran upon the im- iven to the a ui had copied the p: ‘om a London news : sure to go the entire round of English press. What if his wife Or the servant who had Norton? The servant, in- lin, he hould see it? A less resolute, self-reliant evil-doer ught safety in F € But Som- rville, if temptation and circumstane- es had made him a villain, was at least bold one. And the idea took hold of him that if he could but get this Zana j out of the way and make sure of his wife’s silence the inquiry would grad- ually die out. But so long as that girl Daisy kept up a continuous rattle of | Was free to investigate and urge on the small talk until the wine, flanked by some cake and grapes, made its ap- bloodhounds of the law he was well assured that the pursuit of Ernest pearance; and Zana could do nothing | Norton’s personator would never be but listen and wonder what it all meant. Wisely judging a large bottle of champagne to be rather more than relaxed. Now, any attempt against Zana, to say ncthing of an interview with his two girls could safely negotiate, Mrs. | Wife, would necessarily involve a re- Ratten brought three glasses, and by retaining the bottle in her own imme- diate charge reduced this danger to a turn to England. He must risk his head in the lion’s mouth if he meant to burke inquiry. Was it worth the risk? minimum. At her time of life one| ‘The upshot of his calculations was needs a stimulant. Zana was with difficulty persuaded to drink half a glass of the sparkling nectar, but before the two others had finished the bottle between them she that he decided this question in the affirmative. He had really, he argued, only two men to dread meeting—the manager and the cashier of the Lon- don and Westminster bank; and the somehow found iherself upon a footing | risk of encountering either of them of quasi-intimacy with Daisy Fitzclar- ence and the object of an avowed semi- maternal solicitude on the part of Mrs. Ratten. “I hope you won’t think it bad form in me to drop in on you like this with- out even an introduction,” remarked Daisy as she rose to depart; “but the truth is you seemed so lonely up here all by yourself that 1 couldn’t resist would be, with care on his part, infin- itesimal. : It was characteristic of the man that he disdained the idea of disguisii himself (except in so far as a stubbly beard of some weeks’ growth and a pair of smoked glass pince-nez might be termed disguise), as being a source of danger rather than of safety. He would look as little like himself as pos- the temptation of trying to cheer you | Sible, but he would have nothing to do up. I hope you don’t think I came for the purpose of making you stand the champagne,” she added, with a light laugh. “I am quite sure you meant kindly,” answered Zana, “and I am grateful to you for interesting yourself thus in a stranger. But—”’ “What! Another ‘but!” rippled Miss Daisy. “There! Please don’t finish I don’t want to be told I must not do it again, because I like your style and mean to be friends with you. Good- by for the present.” “Good-by,” answered Zana, well with wigs or dyes. To London, accordingly, Richard Somerville returned; and from Londom he journeyed straight to Southampton, ‘having a very natural dread of making any inquiries at Exeter street. He in- stalled himself, as Mr. John Graham, at the George hotel, and in due course summoned Mrs. Baxter. (Zo be continued.) The discoveries of silver and gold ore in Newfoundland have led to a great speoulen tion in mining. egebh ary