A CONFIDENTIAL AGENT:

BY JAMES PAYN, AUTHOR 01' "By Proxy," "Under One Roof," "Walter's Word," "High Spirits," Etc.

CHAPTER XI, HYBLA MEWS.

A MAN might flatter himself he know London—by which, of course, I mean the West End of it, since it can be no compli ment to anybody to be thought to know tho city—andyethemightwell be unacquainted with Hybla Mows, Brompton. The district. indeed, is fashionable enough, and, if slightly "naughty," would not on that account bo a terra incognita to the sort of person who plumes himself on his metro politan knowledge ; but the little row of tenements I have in my mind, though con tiguous to the madding crowd, is so secluded from that it easily escapes atten tion. The advantages of its position are not such as to rivet the common eye oven if it has gained its attention. The houses consist but of one story, are separated from ono another but by a narrow space, and their ground-floor is for tho most part tenanted by quadrupeds. Ido not say by "horses," because 1 like to be exact, and some of them are occupied by cows. In the hitter case, if you looked suddenly and incautiously out of a first floor window, and found the down-sinir lodger doing the like, you were nearer her horns than was pleasant; but on the other band, lite aroma was more agreeable than if you lived over the liorecs.

I know my countrymen, and am far too wise to say a word against that noble animal which is the object of worship with so many of them, but the horse is not an agreeable creature, especially in the slim mer time, to have on your ground-floor. His bouquet is wholesome, I have beard upon the highest authority, but, like most other wholesome things, it is not very nice ; and be is undoubtedly noisy. Of course, uuder the circumstances, it cannot be expected that he should take his shoes off when he retires to test, but the clatter be makes with them, in the watches of the night, is terrible and almost continuous. Mrs Rutherford, honest John's wife, who dwelt immediately over three very fine ones, bad a theory that tbey slept on three legs, relieved by the fourth at intervals of uncertain duration—just as whist is played In France, with a dummy, and ono man out It was the changes of course, and not the peculiarity, of the littlo game, to which she objected, and often would she lie and "drat" them to her husband, who was him self quite indifferent to such disturbances, lint over him, as over every inalo who lived iv Hybla Mews, the horses exercised an influence, both moral and material, before which that even of the Brahma IJnIl t iit his native laud sinks into insignificance. He did not worship them, indeed, but (in con junction with his cabs) tbey were his means of livelihood, and his thoughts and aspirations were infinitely more concerned with them thau with humanity. It was not so wonderful, perhaps, since every dweller in Hybla Mews might literally be said to breathe horse, as well as te smell him, bear him, and imbibe him at every pore ; only it had no such moral effect upon the women. As a rule tbey only thought of horses as croautrcs who kept their husbands up at night, and caused tlicni to lose money in backing them. For though, of course, there were no racehorses, some of them were cousins and even half brothers of such ; aud these equine rela tions led every male inhabitant, from Lord Tomnoddy's head-groom dowu to Dick Dartmoor, the waterman of the neighbour-, ing cabstand, to follow—though of ncces '- —<nti of "■ $5' at v distance--too pioiw»~,, ,« <,uo i Turf. It Was even whispered that at the "Itising Sun," the public at the comer of Uic Mews, to which poor Dick clung liko a limpet in tho winter months, a gentleman might put liis money on any coming event, with a reasonable piospect (if his horse should win) of getting it back agaiu with interest; for the landlord was a " knowing card," and understood the penalties of keeping a betting-house—aud how to avoid them. He was a man of capital, having married Miss Hibcler, a Hebrew lady, whose father had built tho Mows, and intended it to hand hia name down to pos terity, only the Board of Works, through ignorance, or haply through poetical asso ciation, had (on a tablet let into the corner house) rendered it "Hybla." It was a more picturesque spot, on tho whole, than you would imagine, for it had opengallcries running round or nearly round it, abovo the stables, in which the ladies were wont to sit and work in the fine warm weather, among nasturtiums, mignonette, and other flowering plants—which, how ever, all smelt of the horse as,though they had grown out of him; and where the men who liad leisure lolled, and leant, and spat, and exchanged conversation with their less fortunate friends below, who were hissing over their tired steeds, with many a "Woa and a " Now then, stupid," nnd a "Stand still, can't you," which, varied by an occa sional " fling out" of a couple of iron heels, diversified rather than interrupted tho dialogue. Of all the tenants of the Mews, Mr John Rutherford was periups the most f rtunate as respected leisure; for, having two horses, aud as many cabs of his own, nnd having been spared, as he has hinted to us, tho burden of paternity, and aho having those "odd jobs" in connection with "Master Matthew," for which he was very handsomely paid, there was no such neces sity for exertion as existed in other cases — and without that stimulus this honost fellow was the last man in the world to work; in hi' eye 3 (and I quite agree with him), it would have been nothing less than flying in the face of Providence. He employed himself iv his hours of leisure with his pipe, and occasionally in perusing some sporting journal, though, to say truth, this was done (just as I hare seen gentlemen of much higher position perusing a French newspaper at their club) rather with the intention of impressing the public with his literary acquirements thau from auy personal gratification he derived from it. His education, in fact, bad been much neglected, the delights of snaring hares and rabbits in his boyhood having seduced him from attendance at the village school; and his punishment in mature years was this, that he could often only acquire printed information, that wonld otherwise have been easily within his grasp, by a subtlety which, even when crowned with success, was not unaccom panied with a certain sense of humiliation. " There's a very pretty account of that there ' set-to' down at Hanley, Sally, in this here paper," he would observe tolas good woman, who usually sat beside Idm in the verander (a3 she called it) on these occasions. "Is there?" she would reply, with an indifferent air, and proceeding with her

knitting even more assiduously than before. . . , , "It is very interesting indeed, my

dear." T , „ " I am glad you like it, John. " Well, of course I like it; but I should relish it a deal better if I heard you read it It's a sort of thing as should be read aloud, aud you've just got tho voice for it, Sally." "Get along with you, John ; you mean as how it's got some Jongish words in it. Well, give us the paper, though I don t bold with your ' set-tos ' any more than with your horse-races." Thus Mrs Rutherford's out-door read ings " would be given readily enough, but with tlie distinct understanding that she was not imposed upon_by any compliment to her vocal organs. I*_JB ■-n^it-^^A-." ■ "v If that lady bad been younger, and less of the hue of the carnation (for, to use bis own racing phraseology, she "sported her husband's colours "), and if the gallery had been a summer-house in Italy, and, above nil, had the loving pair been unmarried, it would have boon quite tlie garden scene from Francesca of Rimini over again. As it was, and notwithstanding its vulgar surroundings, and that the subject was n, prize-fight instead of ,t poem, the affair had a very pretty touch of domesticity ; and though she mightn't enjoy it as she did the novel (bless her !) in her Sunday paper, Sally was glad to think that tho learning (imparted in her youth by Mrs Thurlow, Sabcy's mother, in the village school at Tarlton) now enabled her to afford ft gratification to her husband which kept him out of mischief in his idle time, as well as immensely impressed him with her talents and wisdom.

It was on the afternoon but one after tbe little dinner-party in Cavendish Grove that Matthew Ilelston's charioteer chanced to bo en joying a reading of this kind from tlie lips of bis faithful spouse ; the intellectual treat was of a higher order than usual, for not only were the details of a prize-fight. described with nil tbe dramatic force and technical skill of " our special ' Fancy' correspondent," but the narrative pos sessed the unaccustomed clement of Tragedy, for one of the combatants had been slain : it blow upon bis " conk" bad not only " drawn the claret," but his life's blood. The death of the hero was magnifi cently portrayed, but even that description sank into insignificance when compared with the eulogy pronounced on the Departed. "If ever greatness of soul rui-ed the character of man," wrote the special correspondent of tlie "Sporting Buffer," "or humanity shone rosp-endent in tlie heart of a human being, a purer claim to those inestimable qualities was never put in than iv tbe ca.se of Billy Bai'lius, the Putney Slasher." In a voice brokou with emotion, Mrs Ruthcford had just fiuished the last pathetic Hues, when, looking up for compliment and applause from her audience (as even the most modest of readers will do), sho pcrceiTCtl that its attention had been distracted elsewhere. Her husband was leaning over the railing of tho gallery, nnd stariiiL' intently at two men who were coming down tho Mows. " Well, I'm sure !" sho exclaimed with considerable disgust, nnd a toss of her bead that shook her cap-strings. "Who on earth is that swell as Dick Dartmoor has got with him, Sally!" was her husband's inconsequential rejoinder. Solly waa much too hurt at his inatten tion to her reading to vouchsafe any reply, but her glance followed tbe direction of his eyes, and, in spite of herself, surveyed with some curiosity the stranger in question. He was a thick-set, bull-necked man, oLno very attractive appearance, aud, tliouyh dressed in well-cut clothes, with a fine scarf-pin and albert chain, was scarcely the sort of " swell " depicted by Sir Dv Mau rier. The contrast, however, between his appearance and that of his companion— who was almost in rags, nnd, whore his gaiters should by rights havo come, wore a couple of haybands twisted round his iinklcs—wits snllicicntly striking. Air Richard Dartmoor had obviously gong t<j tbe dogs, whereas tlie puffy fa<£ ___ _P_( eves of tne other wero at vtc& _x_i the only signs that lio woi on llie road thither, "Why, blow mc Solly, if they aint a-colning here 1" continued .Mr Ruther ford, excitedly. "What can they be up to?" , . , , . "To no good, if Dick Dartmoor s one 01 'em," returned his lady curtly. •- Mark my words, Sally, it's a tip o some kind." . "Then if it is—mark mino— Dick 11 tip you over.' Mrs Ruthcford has as good cause to distrust tho "early information " given by Dick Dartmoor to hor husband as the Trojans had to fear tlie gifts of the Greeks in the horse lino, As lie himself confessed in moments of repentance, ii it hadn't been for Dick's " perfect certain ties," he would have been richer by many a five-pound note. "Gentleman wants to see vo-u, John." exclaimed Dick, calling from below; his voice wits husky aud somewhat thick with liquor, and, as though aware of the fact, ho pointed to the "gen'clman" with hi» finger, to give significance to his words. "Proud, I'm sure," said John, removing the fur cap which he wore at all seasons without the least reference to temperature. " Walk up, sir." While the heavy creak of tlie strangers step, followed by Dick's well-known sham bling stumble, was heard upon tho stairs, Mrs Rutherford leant forward towards her husband, and whispered, " I don't liko the look of 'iui, and I moan to see tills out, John." John nodded assent, or at all events ac quiescence ; he was quite sobor (and there fore tractable), and he knew that when his good lady said " I moan," she meant it " Capting Laugton," said Dick, appear ing for a moment from the inner room in bis haybaiid*, in tlie character of master of the ceremonies, and then retiring: " him as you'va heard of before, John, Newmarket, way." , „ "A way I don't like," murmured Mrs Rutherford to herself, but nevf-rthekss bobbing a curtsey and handing the visitor a chair. " I doubt whether tbe gallery will bear tho three of us," stepping on it with affected apprehension; "we're not such light weights as we were, missus."

"There has boon more than threo on this verandah before now, sir," was her some what curt reply; after his calling her " missus " and making that reference to her weight (which was a tender topic with her), she was more disinclined than ever to per mit this man to confer with her John alone. " Very good, ma'am ; then we'll risk it," said the stranger, cheerfully : " I only came to »ask a question of your husband, who knows mc well enough by name, no doubt." "Well, yes, sir," said John: "I've heard Dick speak of you many times. You're his employer, ain't you?" " I don't know that I'm quite that," laughed the Captain. "He docs littlo odd jobs for me on the downs sometimes." "Tout?" said Mrs Rutherford, uncom promisingly. " Why, yes, ma'am he does occasionally act for me in that useful capacity. There's very little doing, however, on tho Turf just now. VVe're looking for the spring, as usual, to relieve us." " Ah," said the lady. It was but/imooo

syllable, but it spoke volumes. Hit had been paraphrased, it would have run satiri cally, " And much good you will do with it when the spring conies, no doubt I" She looked so very antagonistic, that the Captain abandoned bis attempts at con ciliation in that quarter, and addressed himself to her husband. " You drive a cab, do you not, Mr ;i!u tberford?" . , ± " I drive two cabs, sir," returned that gentleman, with some dignity: " a 'aasom and a four-wheeler.'' '' Not both at once, laughed the Captain, "surely. However, I have heard they are very good ones—quite private vehicles, eh, or at all events let for private jobs ?" "I only goes on one private job," re turned John, still a little stiffly, for he did not like jokes at the expense of Ms pro perty, of which he was very proud. "Well, I suppose you can go on another one, if it is made worth your while : you are accustomed to night-work, as I under stand ?"

"I do a little night-work, but it's a special case." "Yes, I know all about that, said the Captain carelessly, as lie threw away the stump of his cigar and lit a fresh one ; "you go to Moor-street; I have a slight acquaint ance with Sir Charles myself: his Artemis is a pretty filly Mr Rutherford?" " You may say that, sir. I have not seen her myself, but tliey do tell mo " here be was about to sink his voice to the proper pitch for discussing that " secret linown to all," a good Turf "tip " when he was arrested by a change in his wife's de meanor : she had dropped her'kuitting and was regarding the Captain from Ireland with a look of intense alarm and suspicion. The Captain turned to see what had caused honest John's hesitation, but Mrs Rutherford was knitting again as if she had backed her needles against time and was winning at the post. "You need have no secrets from me, Mr Rutherford, as to Artemis," said the visitor, smiling. "Though perhaps ou the other hand, 1 could tell you a thing or two worth hearing. However, we will talk of that another time. You were saying that the Moor-street business kept you up,pretty late o' nights."

Mrs lUitlierford s fingers were onco more idle, but this time she held one of her needles high up in the air, a signal for cau tion and for silence.

" The hour varies,' answered John, puff ing at bis pipe. "lean understand tbat," said the Cap tain, " woman hei self being variable. And yon have a long way to come and go from Mr- Mr Ilelston's. Let us see, where was it Kir Charles told us he lives ? "

Again the knitting-needle is held up, and this time with an air of unmistakable warn ing, " Up Bayswnter way," answered John coolly. " Well, the job I want you for will not be so far as that, You shall name your own terms for it, which I am sure will be reasonable. And hi the meantime—to show you that I mean business -I will beg your acceptance of this little retaining fee. He held out lialf-a-sovereign,between his finger and thumb.

John looked towards bis wife, but, per ceiving no sign to tbe contrary, pocketed the coin readily enough, with a " Thank yor, Captain." " You've got a nice place here, Mr Ruth erford," said the visitor, looking round and sniffing the air, which perhaps was really grateful to him, for the stable was, as it were, his native atmosphere. " The Mows is a safe playground for tbe children." "That don t much matter to us," ob served John laughing, "for wc ain't a got none."

"And a very good thing, too," replied the Captain, in no way abashed by bis lit tle mistake. " I have always shrunk from family cares myself. Well, well, you shall bear from mc shortly, Mr Rutherford. Good evening, ma'am," Mrs Rutherford rose and bohbed.

" Shrimps aud Watercress," said the Cap tain patronisingly, as, followed by John, he passed through their little sitting room, where the tea-table was already spread. "That looks very appetising. I dote on shrimps." "Take oue, sir, or half a dozen, for the matter of that," said John hospitably. "No, I thank you. 1 should have been delighted, only I have not yet dined. What nice stairs you've got—except that they're a little steep. Good evening, John." And the Captain sauntered up tho Mows with a good deal of "side on,' which be come a positive swagger as he emerged into the more fashionable street. " Well, what do you think of that, Sally ?" inquired Mr Rutherford, not a lit tle curious to know his wife's opinion of their recent visitorjand the cause of his con descension. "What do you say to our friend the Captain ?" " I think, for oue thing, he's a liar, ic plied tlie lady, "He ' dotes on shrimps, does he? and, 'what nice stairs you've got - only a trifle steep.' It would have been a good thing, in my opinion, if they'd a been a trifle steeper and broke his neck. "Well, he gave us half a couter, otall events," pleaded John in mitigation. "We should ha' got that any way,' was her logical rejoinder. " That man's after no good, John. Why did he want to know what time you went to Moor-street o' nights, and where Master Matthew lived?" " Why, it was all about this private job of his, I reckon ; whether I could do the same "

" John, you're a fool!" interrupted Mrs Rutherford. "I don't like you any the less for that, bnt rather better,; only, you're too easily taken in. If I had not taken root here with my knitting, it's my belief you would ha' told that fellow everything." "But ho knowcd it all beforehand," urged Mr Rutherford, sensible of weakness and of putting forth a feeble plea. "He did not. He only knowed a little, and wanted to know a little more. The question lie came to put to you had nothing to-do with your cab at all; he don't want your cab—not he !" "Then what on earth does he waut, Sally?" , Mrs Rutherford leant lorward, with nor fat hands on her fat knees, and whispered solemnly— "He wants what he knowed better than to say a word about, John. He never mentioned 'tin from first to last; but what that 'ere feller wants is Lady Pargitcr's diamonds!"

If Mrs Rutherford expected an eulogy upon her sagacity, or even an outbreak of astonishment at her ingenious discovery, she wus doomed to be disappointed. Per haps her husband thought he had made admissions enough of her superiority of intelligence; or perhaps the subject of which she spoke had been too long fami liarised to his own mind to permit of wonder at any allusion to it.

" Oh, he do, do he ?" was, at all events, his philosophical reply. '' There's a many more as wants 'em, too. Howsomenever, only,pne can get 'cm at best; aud as for the rest, Want will be their master." "At best? Why what do you mean, John ?"

" Well, at worst then, if you like it bet-

ter." "Of course I like it better. Why, what are you thinking of ?" cried the good lady, with genuine alarm,

"Thinking? How can a fool think?" (John little imagined how he was imitating Sir Charles Pargiter, Bart, in thus reply ing to liis good lady-men are so alike.) "But, I knows what I knows," With which mysterious observation he knocked out the ashes of his pipe against the gallery railing, and, regardless of his tea and shrimps and his indignant Sally, went out of doors into the street.

CHAPTER XII,

" HOW MUCH CAN I KAISE ON THEM ?" It has been said by some cynic that there is no one so rich but that he would be glad of a thousand pounds, and it is certainly true that there is no ono who does not grudge having to pay that sum away. Indeed, the richer a man is, the more he seems to feel parting with his wealth; and in the case ot one very rich indeed - a man, as we may say, "made of money," it is perhaps only natural that he should resent having any portion of himself thus ab ktracted, befeolsit even when lie discharges his own debts; how much more, then, when he has to discharge the debts of other people! Only imagine, therefore, tlie condition of mind of Lady Pargiter upon discovering one fine morning—for the letter tbat in formed her of it arrived when she was sill in her dressing-room—that she bad to pay, not one thousand pounds, but twenty thousand, for hor husband's gambling debts !It is true that she had suspected their existence. When she bad married him ho had frankly hinted that he was not wholly without encumbrances of tills kind, but for such an amount as this he bad by no means prepared her. He had solemnly promised that ho would never run a horse, or bet on one, after he had become her husband ; and yet she had good reason to believe that a portion at least of this enor mous liability had been incurred of late months; and next to the existence of the debt itself, this was the bitterest sting to her of all—tbat he had lied to her. Not that Lady Pargiter had any abstract admi ration of truth, or horror of lying: that she herself should be the victim of duplicity was what she resented. It was probable— she thought it would be the merest justice —that she was not liable for her husband's debts. Her money had been so tied up to her that she was tolerably certain he could not get at it. But then, if this debt was not paid, Sir Charles would be disgraced; and this cannot happen to any husband without his wife sharing in the same con demnation. Hhe could have been sent, to prison in private—to some such place as tlie Bastile, for instance, by lettre de cac/iet —she would have let him go without pity ; but there could be no privacy in this mat ter. Indeed, though he so richly destrved it, he could not be sent to prison; nor even made a bankrupt, because these were debts of so-called honour; and though Lady Par giter's views of "honour" were in this respect very similar to those of Falstaff, she knew that she could not ignore them. Of tlie fact of his liabilities there could be no doubt, for the schedule of debts was from her husband's lawyer, and it was accompanied by a communication from himself. (Sir Charles was on his moor— lucr moor—in the Highlands, and she was still in her London home.) It was, on the whole, a manly letter, with considerable good feeling in it; but unfortunately it had no tender feeling. He confessed that his debts wero larger then they ought to be, or than lie himself had suspected. He ex pressed sorrow that he was compelled to come to her for pecuniary assistance, and for so much of it. But this was the first and the last time he would ask her help. When she read that, her thin lips grew very disdainful, for be seemed thereby to seek to imply thatjie had given up the ; Turf, instead of having broken liis pledged ( word coocerning it Her astuteness, how- . ever, here overreached itself. Sir Charles . had not broken hi? word, in spite of the . belief of " honest John " and some other _ wiseacres to the contrary, whose wish per haps (for Sir Charles was himself a Turf ; favourite) had been father to tlie scandal, j Tlie Baronet neither owned Artemis nor any other horse, nor did he now bet on horse-races ; though he had solaced himself | for those acts of eelf-denial by " putting the pot on " at cards, and all other " events " concerning which wagers were possible. It , may, doubtless, bo said that he thus lied ■ in the spirit if not in tlie letter. But that was not Sir Charles' view; and, considering ; the number of person* who did not even make that exception, perhaps he was still above the average in moials. He was, at all events, no adept in dupli city, or his letter would have been far other- , wise worded j for if it hod been possible to j simulate affection, here was surely not , only the opportunity, but the necessity for it. When one has to write to one's wife— "Be as good as to pay £20,000f0r me," itis judicious to address her as "Dearest Julia " at the very least; whereas ho had begun his note, "My dear Lady Pargiter," and ended it not much more warmly. Her ladyship had a tiring-maid, by name Patty Selwood (ordinarily addressed as " Selwood," like a peer), who was present on the occasion of her receiving this bad news. She was a tall, handsome girl of the French type, with high cheek bones, fresh colour (indeed it was " fresh twice a day, like tbe strawberries), and an eye to the main chance, and the weakness of her mistress. For the most part, she had rather a hard time of it; indeed, her lot would have been well-nigh intolerable had she not thoroughly understood the theory (and practice) of compensation ; for when her mistress was in a temper, "my lady's lady's-maid," as Patty delighted to call herself, got the full benefit of it; and ot aU the "bad quarters of an hour" she experi enced, those which were occupied in attiring Lady Pargiter in the morning were tbe worst Her ladyship was never good-looking, but her resemblance to the equine race was more marked than ever before (if I may be allowed the expression) she was groomed; and, strange to say, she was aware of this —that Is to say, she knew that she was less attractive before noon than afterwards, aud, resenting tlie fact, she visited this offence of Nature upon her maid. On the present occasion, however, matters were far otherwise. The misfor tune that had befallen her was too tre mendous for any feelings of mere irritation Like the poet, she was for the present dowered with "the scorn of scorn?, the hate of hates," and all little outbreaks of "temper" were quenched and over whelmed by it. Moreover, sad to say, though Lady Parliger had two or three bushels of visiting cards on her malachite tray below stairs, she had not a friend in the world; and in the rare cases, such as this, when the necessity of sharing a sorrow or reposing a confidence in one arose, she was accustomed, fautc de mieux, to confide in her waiting-maid, If, dear reader, you conceive this to be unnatural in a person of Lady Pargitcr's rank and importance, it only shows that you know very little of such fashionable folks, and (I fear) must needs belong to what we used to call at Eton "the lower middle." 'I hero" are many ladies whose time is so engrossed in important matters —such as you read of in the "Morning Post "—that they have no leisure, even if they had the opportunity, for making

friendships with their own sex; whereas while they aro being dressed and undressed' they have plenty of it. . " There was an unmistakable sign by which Patty Selwood understood that morning that her mistress was in the confidential mood. She addressed her as "Patty" instead of "Selwood." "Patty," she said, as that young woman was combing out her rather scanty locks, with a view to select a spot upon her head on which to affix a very, fine collection of them from other sources, "I am a very miserable woman." " Indeed, my lady, you should not be," said Patty, reassuringly. "Of course I should not be; but there is no justice nor truth nor honour in the world," replied she, vehemently— "thatis, in man." •/. " Very, true, my lady," sighed the waiting-maid. She had intended to be sympathetic, and to imply that she too had proved the falsehood and injustice of the other sex; hut herein sho made a mistake —she did not reflect that heiresses with ever so many thousands a year have sorrows compared with which those of the lower classes are mere flea-bites. " Tush ! how should you know ?" re turned her mistress with irritation. "You were never ruined." " Well, no, my lady ; not as I knows on," she added prudently. "I never wero." "Well, this letter here means ruin—or something like it. What would you say I if some one wrote to you to say that you had twenty thousand pounds 'to psy* for somebody else's debts r "Lack-a-mcrcy, my lady! Twenty thousand pounds !" The idea of having to : pay it she put aside as too great an effort of fancy-the mention of the sum itself . was overwhelming. " Yes—that's what I am asked to pay; - -,' and for what do you suppose, Patty ?" ?'■'-' '' The reply expected, of course, was "gambling debts;" but ss these were *' matters altogether out of Patty's expedi ence, she naturally suggested the tfom expensive thing with which she was acquainted—she had once given five-atid twenty shillings herself for a bracelet of Brighton diamonds. " Well, for jewels I suppose, my lady. Your diamond necV lace cost as much, or more, you once told me,' A ' '.'- -'A i '•* " No, notfor jewels, Patty." Here she stopped a little—she had it in her mind to tell the whole story of her wrongs to her waiting-maid, but the mention of her diamonds turned her thoughts at once into tbat direction. If it should be absolutely: necessary to pay this enormous sum, the parurc was perhaps what she could best afford to part with; it was dear to her; V indeed, as the apple of her eye, but Kef * money was still dearer. She knew abso lutely nothing of business matters, and therefore it was, perhaps, that stock and scrip and share (that is, her own poSses-' sions in them) had such an inestimable' value tor her; she set such a " fancy V price" upon her numerous investments that to sell out any one of them to defray a gambling debt seemed a positive act of sacrilege. " Yes, my diamonds cost note than that," she continued musing. "The m probate duty on them was as for twenty five thousand pounds." '' Deary mc ! what, for coming out of the country!" ejaculated Patty: she, had con fused "Probate" with "Export," and im agined that the Customs in Golconda had exacted tbat considerable sum for permits-i ■■ ting the diamonds to leave their native soil. Her mistress, however, was too deep-, *. in thought to notice this misapprehension H of Patty's. " Yes," she resumed, half to her self, "the probate duty ought to fix the t value; and yet I have always understood' that papa could never sell them at the price he gave for them." (If she not only under stood this, but believed it, it .was a \ery touching proof of the simplicity of her lady shin's nature). "I doubt whether even twenty thousand pounds could be got for them. '1 "But I thought I heard you say, my* , lady," said Patty, " that ii Messrs Star am" p. Signet were to lose the jewels, or lf^they^ were stolen while under their care/ they-: wi.uld have to pay you twenty-five thou-' > sand pounds." ' n •'■ >pp "That is true,"asserted her ladyship. "It would bea good thing if they were lost,. ■' or stolen, so far." • " Well, they are pretty sure to be. stole,.' your ladyship, one day or another, "observed; I Patty comfortingly. " Sure to be stolen I " crifcd Lady Pargi ter, aghast at the enrtness of the other's! tone;" who says they are f I "Oh, well, my lady, overybody. -Of course there's a deal of care taken against I it; but the odds is——" and there she I stopped, not for want of words (which never failed her), but because she saw that ha mistress was not favouring her with her **; attention. > "To think," sighed Lady Pargiter, after a long pause, "that things should come ,t0 such a pass that I should feel it an advan^ tage to have my diamonds stolen !" '' What a thing it would be if one Could keep the jewels and get the money too 1" observed Patty vaguely. "Eh, what!" cned her ladyship, struck for one moment with this delightful pros pect, hut the next perceiving its futility; "how can yon talk such rubbish? Can one have one's cake and eat it too, you stu pid girl?" ; "I only said * what a thing it would be,' my lady,'r explained Patty apologetically. ■„■ 1 "The girl is an^diot, remarked Lady? Pargiter, addressing aloud in 'thel looking glass. " That will do, Selwood: you may leave the room." Ot course, she had not forgotten, during, all the tittle-tattle, the terrible circum stance that had given rise to it; namely, that her husband owed twenty thousand pounds, and that she had to pay it'; but baring once appreciated the fact, and nOfc withstanding she was filled with to-may and indignation because of it, her nnnff was so practical that it at once turned to those means of discharging the liability** which Patty had unconsciously suggested,; to her. Accepted bills, as the lawyer bad ventured to remind her, must be met when ihey become due; whereas one r Can pay out one's husband at any time. H, as she , was but too well convinced, there was no. Way of escaping this frightful obbgatuw he/diamonds must be parted with, and_it . became at onco a matter of absorbing mte- ;; rest with her to know what might be raised ; upon them. She knew that her late father , ' had retained them because they would not "fetch their price "-that is, the price he ; 1 valued them at; but she had a vague no ' tion (her ideas, indeed, about everything ! were vague, though she had so keen a per-. cePtionof her own interests and of what; ■ -,- ; ! she wanted), that the value of precious stones was liable to great fluctuations: it ! was possible, she thought, tbat the*JW. ' might now realise twenty-fivo thousand,. , pounds, though some years ago it haa ' Mcd to do so; and the person who was , most likely to give her information on tws : subject was Mr Signet > Without, therefore, saying a word more r to Patty about the catastrophe .that hoi , befallen her, and even perhaps regretting 3 that she had said so much (which, indeed, * as Fate ordained it, she had; eventoaUy I gtcd reason to do), Lady Pargiterordered y her carriage and drove to Paulet-streot.

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, MARCH 4, 1882

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