A CONFIDENTIAL AGENT:

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

CHAPTER XXI,

MR GEORGE IIItAIL,

IT was on the whole very creditable to Mr Signet's self-restraint that ho had shown himself so calm—nay, almost philosophic iv Amy Thurlow's presenco—under the immense misfortune that seemed to have befallen him. He was naturally a man of strong nerve, which his habits of business had rendered stronger; they had accus tomed him to deal with largo sums of money, and to run risks with them. Moreover, his experience had not been of the common-p'.aco trading sort; there were secrets in his bosom—not disgraceful ones, but simply the acts of his calling—which would have furnished materials for half a dozen writers of sensational fictions. There were, for example, thousands of pounds' worth of jewels and ornaments of the precious metals in his respectable establishment of which ho could scarcely be said to know whether they were his own or not—for which, at all events, there were no owners, and had not been for half a century. In old times, tradesmen's books, like the old pariah registers, were kept very loosely. Chance customers wi.ukl drop in and leave articles of great value to be cleaned or repaired, without taking the trouble—so good was Mr Star's name in the world of commerce —to make arrangements for their return oven by so much as leaving their address ; and at that time it was never asked of them. They gave their names, perhaps by word of mouth ; and the names were forgotten, and the owners of (ho names and the jewels never called for them. They intended " to look iv again," of course •' in a week or a fortnight; but during that little space death laid them low, or mad ness took away their memory. The ad dresses of some of them were found out- Mr Star was an honest man—but the re stitution of their property was sometimes impossible : they had no heirs, nor did any one know anything about them except that they had lived and died. Others, again, had never, perhaps, been the real owners of these precious wares, and uftcr having left them they feared to call again, less the fact should have been discovered in the meantime, and they should be con fronted with a Bow Street Hunner (as the Mr Brails of that date were termed) instead of the conciliatory features of Mr Star.

Experience or recollection of those strands matters without doubt now assisted lua surviving partner to keep his head clear, when this loss of no less a sum than £25,000 iirat menaced him that winter's morning, lie had never been what is commonly called a speculator, but the nature of hu colling had tended in that direction. lie wan ac customed to the risk of loss—though not, it is true, of losses of this magnitude; and, bast of all. he was of a sanguine disposi tion, and thougtt " All is not lost that's in danger" ono of the best of proverbs. Moreover, ho was genuinely in love with Amy, and his sagacity at once perceived that this misfortune, however ill it nii^ht turn out, iifFordi d him an admirabla oppor tunity of Ingratiating himself with lier. And lie lia'i taken full advantage of it He had (with certain exceptions, which her state of mind hod not allowed her to ob serve) behaved like a gentleman in the matter, and also ■' like a man." Instead of bemoaning his lost ducal', after the manner of Shylock, he had evinced sympathy with her in her domestic bereavement, and shown that hi.s heart was not altogether in his gold, as she had, perhaps, been led to imagine. Above all, lie had established a confidential relation between himself and Amy, which, lie fluttered himself, he knew how to improve with occasion. But all this had cost him no little effort. When news had reached him that Matthew Hclston had not been to Paulet Street that morning (which was known to the people in the house by a certain tell-tale dial, which Matthew was wont to set at the moment of his departure, so carefully was every con tingency in connection with the parure arranged for) the shock had been consider able ; for, from his knowledge of the man, he knew that something had gono very much amiss to prevent the performance of his duly; and tha sight of the empty space in the safe, which should havo been occupied by the diamonds had well-nigh stunned him. Mr Signet was a "warm" man, but the loss of £25,000 is calculated to dimish the caloric in most people. And there was no doubt, supposing that the jewels did not turn up, that ho would be answerable for them to the whole amount.

As he closed the door upon Amy Thur low the smile flitted irom the jeweller's faco and left it very grave. Still, there was nothing dc spondent or unmanly in it, nor in tho tone m which he addressed tho detective when he rejoined him in the par lour. "" This is tho tightest place, George, we have yet been in," ho said, for Mr Brail and he had done a good deal of business together in their time. ;"Tho forfeit I shall have to pay, if these jewels nre really .gone, i* something enormous," ''That is, if your man has taken them," observed Mr Brail,

"Orbeen taken with them," answered the jeweller; " which it is don't matter a dump: Lady Pargiter takes his receipt, and from that moment, whatever happens, I become responsible." "You mean his receipt when ho comes away from Moor (Street with them':" "Yes.'

"Are the diamonds so largo as to bo re cognisable out of their setting ?" " I doubtit. There are several very fine ones, but I liavo a drawing of the whole parura, if you would like to see it."

Mr Brail nodded indifferently, as much as to say, " That can wait," and made certain entries in pocket-pook. "Now as to Mr Helston himself, Mr Signet: what is he like ?"

'•Heis of middle height, and looks of middle age, though he is mnch younger; has brown curling hair; is of stoutish build—no, it must be that he seems to be so from his slow movements, I remember he told me his weight ' " Can you let me have his photo ?" put in Mr Brail. '' That will save a world of time."

" I can get it for you, no doubt," said Mr Signet; and he made a mental memoran dum that lie would apply in person to Miss Amy Thurlow for it, '< It will bo copied and distributed, I suppose ?" he said. "Yes, at the police-stations and else where." Then, perceiving his employer to wince a little (for it hod just struck him that it was scarcely a delicate thing to ask Miss Thurlow for a picture of her brother-in-law to bo published iv the "Hue and Cry"),

he added, " Not necessarily for the appre hension of the gentleman, of course, but for liis personal identification if he turns out to havo come to grief.1' " 1 understand," said Mr Signet. " Itis my own firm convictiou, George, that this man is innocent."

He really did thiuK so, as ■well as having 25,000 reasons to corroborate that opinion. "Just so, sir," said Mr Brail coolly. " It will be as well, however—will it not? — to watch his house." Here was another embarrassment. Under ordinary circumstances Mr Signet would of course have said " Yes ;" but it was no* a chivalrous thing to do to surround the abode of his lady-love with policemen. " You must take your own way, George, as to details," lie answered curtly. " You have no sort of suspicion, I con clude, sir, as to any person being in any way connected with this matter ?"

It was upon Mr Signet's lips to mention Lady Pargiter, but her name did not escape them. Nevertheless, ho hesitated, and perhaps Mr Brail observed it, for ho entered some thing iv his note-book, which it is likely was n more poetical idea. " It may be the faintest breath, you see, sir," he continued coaxiugly, "and yet wortk giving voice to." "No, there is no one," answered the jeweller. Then, after a pause, "Since you are going to set watches, George, I con clude Moor Street will be under surveillance? The cabman protests, it seems, that he left Mr Ililston tliere." "Sir Charles Pargiter's number is 10, I believe," entering the figures iv his book. Mr Signet said nothing more upon that point, but he had said quite enough. " This assistant of yours has been always ([iiict and regular in his habits since he has been with you, Mr Signet ?"

" Certainly. ' "And his character at home—do you know anything of that?' " 1 know on the best authority that he has lived a most domestic life."

" You say 'on the best authority,'" said Mr Brail, with the least quiver of a smile upon liis respectable features — " that of his wife, I conclude ?" "No, uofc his wife. I have learnt so from bis sister-in-law, the young lady who has just left us." "I urn glat to hear that, Mr Signet, be cause a man's wife—l may say it to you, who are a bachelor—is not always the person best informed of her husband's goings-on. Indeed, at the bottom of these sort of cases—or in nine cases out of ten of them—tliere is a woman."

" Not in this, George. I think you may eliminate that factor from your calculations altogether." Mr Brail's face fell like a barometer before a hurricane, "I am sorry to hear that, sir," he said naively. "When women are in any little matter of this kind there is always hopo; they are so much more easy to get at than the male kind. However, we must do our bast." And the detective rose add put away his note-book ia his breast-pockot. " My food Brail, you will take your own way, of course ; but it strikes me you are entering on this affair under a, total mis conception," said the jewellery gravely. "You must remember that not only the diamonds have disappeared, but this unfor tunate Mr Hclston himself."

"Nay, that is just what I do remember, Mr Signet. When an inanimate object is missing, we say it cannot have gone with out hands—that is, somebody must needs have taken it; but when v man is missing, I say he cannot have gone without legs— that ib, he is much more likely to have run away than to have been carried. However, we shall know more about it in a few hours."

CHAPTER XXII,

A DIFFEKEXCE OF OPINION

When misfortune befalls us it is the habit of mauy of us to ptcture it to ourselves as the worst that can happen ; not because we really believe no, but from a vogue super stitious notion that thereby tiie worst will bo averted from us. "Fate has vow done all the mischief in her power," we say. " It is the last turn of the tack ; whatever happens now must be an improvement." It has been the custom of poor mortals from tUe earliest ages thus tj attempt to pro pitiate cruel Fortune. It is no humble submission on our part, by any means. What we would toll her if we dared is—" Heaven knows, you have been hard enough upon us, and too hard : it is time to stay your pitiless hand."

On such persons the blow has often fallen, only, alas ! to be repeated while the smitten limb is yet tender, and ere the tender wound has healed. But while sus pense endures we can use no language. We dare not say—" Now let Fate do her worst," while she only menaces us; we cannot reconcile ourselves to a calamity far less experience " tho low beginnings of content"—until it has absolutely occurred. " The shadow on the dial proves the pas sing ofjthc trial," says tho poet—"proves the presence of the sun :" but it is not so with {Suspense, which is the presence of tho trial, and seems to augur the passing of the sun for evermore, And so it was with iiabey whon hour after hour went by and brought her no tidings of her husband.

She was wretched, yet fjrow more so with every minute of time, which again seemed to bear her on towards an eternity of wretchedness that was so date from the moment she heard for certain—" Matthew is dead."

Mr Barlow, of course, brought her no news of him, He had seen Mr .Signet, and been received by that gentlemen with a coldness that he did uot understand. He himself had not oii that occasion used his judicial manner; he had dwelt, on the con trary, upon the alarm and distress of Mat thew's wife - perhaps with some vague eeusc of impiesainp; the jeweller (should that haply have been necessary) with the genuineness of Helston's disappearance. But Mr Signet had received the tidmgs with a certain cooluess which to Mr Barlow had had a'tinge of suspicion. He had ex hibited very littlo sympathy with the family bereavement, but had dwelt a good deal upon tno loss of the jewels. " Aba man of the world, sir, speaking to a man of the world," ho had begun, and the nature of his remarks was such as might have been expected from such an exordium. He had tho highest confidence in the in tegrity of Mr Barlow's friend, but it must be evident to Mr Barlow that the coinci dence of Mr Helston's disappearance with that £25,000 worth of diamonds was most unfortunate. No doubt all would be ex plained in a few hours, and the jewel? would bo found to be safe enough ; but if they were not found, Mr Barlow could hardly be astonished if unpleasant things were said.

It had been Mr Barlow's habit, as wo know, to defend Mr Signet -or at all events to make light of what in his character of employer had seemed disagreeable to his brother-in-law in posse; but that visit to Paulet S.reet had altered his views. As a gentleman learned in the law, albeit "be longing to the lower branch of the profes sion," he felt that he had not been treated with proper respect by the jeweller, though at the same time he was disposed to make

great allowances for his position. He did not think that even the risK of losing £25,000—if he had had it to lost—would in his own case have made him behave with churlishness or irritation ; but lie admitted that it excused much in Mi- Signet's tone and manner, lie remembered that Mat thew hud been in his employment but a year or two, and. that in the caRC of a catastro phe so tremendous a man was likely to forget all interests but his own, and to thrust forth the antenna; of suspicion in all directions. But he left Mr Signet's esta blishment with the conviction that the jeweller was by no meaus certain that Matthew Hclston — the man to whose sister-in-law he was engaged to be married —had not abscouded >* ith Lady Pargiter's jewels, and he felt great indignation ac cordingly. To Sabey, of course, he said not a word of this. It was fcomehow a comfort to him not only on her own account —that the idea that such a suspicion could be enter tained by aliyone hail evidently never entered her mind. If she thought of the jewels at all, it was only because the pre sent possessor of thcmh.td in all probability been the cause of her husband's misfor tune ; but what at present monopolised her thought was the misfortune itself, and vague but terrible speculations as to the. extent of it. The explanations of her husband's absence winch she had hitherto offered to hcisclf, or which had been suggested hy others, were now become impossible. Since Matthew must needs be aware of her anxiety, nothing she well knew could have prevented him—save serious illness or death —from relieving it by this time. One chance only remained after Mr Barlow's return from Paulct Street : Matthew might have been taken ill, and commissioned Kutherford to iafonu her of the fact, which the cabman omitted to do; but it was to Mr Ba.lows credit that he did not encourage this faint spark of hope. He was too upright a man to afl'cct to bo sanguine in sudi a case, or to permit Sabey to purchase a temporary com fort for which she would probably huve to pay a higu price iv sub-eiiuent disappoint ment, , . , , 1 he delay iv Amy's return, winch seemed hopeful to woor Sabey, rather distressed him than otherwise upon the former's ac count. He was not pleased to lind that she had gone alone on such a morning to such a place as Hybla Mews ; and, though he did not nay so, Sabey parceived it. It would be too much to say that she re sented this—for, had she not herself enter tained the Bame objections 1 But it seemed hard to her that he should grudge the service which Amy had for Matthew's sake — the last, perhaps, that she would ever do for him. There was already something of the sacredncss of death associated with Ur husbapd; and alt slight of him, as well as all deprecia tion, was sacrilege. " I had rather be alone till Amy comes, if you please," said Sabey quietly, almost humbly, when Mr Barlow had made his report; and her face was already turned to the window, with its listening air again, ere he had closed the parlour-door to join Uncle Stephen, who lind left her to herself, seeing that it was better so, and retired to the smoking-joom. There was plenty of movement now in Cavendish Grove : men hurried Citywards with heads bowed down to meet the driving snow; the light carts of the trades men flitted noiselessly by, and now and then a luggage-laden cub from tho railway station, full of the happy faces of school boys, bound for home and holidays. How strange it seemed to her that tho people should go about their business or their pleasure while her heart was gnawed with such a cruel care !

How keen its tooth was, aud how inces sant was the pain ! Presently a cab drove up with Amy in it; she caught sight of her pale sad face and read its tidings in au instant. "You have no news of Matthew ?" were her first wo ids.

" No, dear, none," answered Amy, as she embraced her sister in the little half.

" But your no news is not good news ?" '•No, it is not. Still, dear Sabey, it is not bad : not necessarily bad. Only sad aud strange, and indeed inexplicable." Then, as they sat together in the parlour, she told her what had happened; of her visit to the cabmau.andhow Rutherford had told her that Lady Pargiter had invited Matthew to remain, ia Moor Street.

"That is false!" cried Sabey, just as Amy herself had cried. " She is a woman without a heart." She said tills with un conscious vehemence, using a phrase of Matthew's own with reference to her lady ship. " What does she care what has hap pened to my darling, as long as her diamonds are safe?"

"But her diamonds are not safe, Sabey. Her servants say that Matthew left the houso with the jewels as usual, whereas Rutherford avers "

"I believe llutheford," interrupted Sabey quickly. " Matt always had conlii dence in Rutherford."

Amy knew not what to answer to this illogical remark; moreover, she was in doubt upon the point herself; so she went on with her recital.

Saboy hung upon her words, yet always with ear and eyo expectant for that which did not come—of that of which, when all was told, thero seemed to be no hope of the coming. . At the end ehc made no observa tion, but her shapely head dropped a little, and her fingers clasped one another over her lap. "You must not despair, dearest," whispered Amy. "If anything dreadful— that is, very dreadful—bad happened, it must needs have been known by thia time. Everything will be done that can be done : not only by us, but by others more power ful. Mr Signet will not leave a stone un turned."

" God bless him—God in Heaven bless him 1" murmured Saboy. Amy had not the heart to say what she had in her mind, that it was the loss of the diamonds which would set so many shoulders to the wheel—and Mr Signet's among them — rather than the calamity that had happened to Matthew himself. Yet she thought Mr Signet had been very kind.

" We must have patience, Sabey, and for Matthew's sake—as Mr Signet says, it is so ill-important to keep a good heart."

To this too—as to "vacant chaff well meant for grain"—Sabey answered nothing, but took the hand that Amy laid on hers and pressed it. Breakfast she could not touch, though at Amy's request —and with the old argument to back it, namely that so Matthew would have had it—she strove to do so.

"Presently, my dear," she said, with a pitiful smile; but in truth it seemed to her that she would never eat again.

There are some people to whom,like her, taste and appetite are denied; who eat to live, or say so ; but to her even this excuse for a meal was wanting. " What' had she now to live for ?" was the question she put to herself, when, as*f in answer to it, the babe above stairs began to wail, Sabey rose at once. "Frank is here, darling, with Uncle Stephen. You will see him while I go to baby." It was not Sabey's habit to c;i!i Mr Barlow Frank, but she did so now to please her sister, and also because she felt

that there was a grain of bitterness in her feelings towards him,and that she therefore owed him compensation. There are some natures which no stress or strain of personal misery can ever warp from being just to others. Amy found Frank and Uncle Stephen smoking the calumet of peace together in more than one sense. The little irritation wliich the former had aroused in the li ter's breast before starting on his srrand had quite passed away, or was lost in the gravity of the common danger. For Mr Barlow had opened his whole mind to his companion a* to Mr Matthew's case, which he considered well-nigh desperate. " Knowing him as we do, Mr Durham, I can conceive that nothing abort of the very worst could have prevented his communi cating with us." "Do you mean that he has been mur dered ?" asked the old gentleman bluntly. "I fear he has fallen into bad hands—

yes." After which they had smoked without speaking until Amy entered the room. It struck her that, though both looked very sad and grave, Frank's face had more distress in it—wliich surprised, though it did not displease her. She did not under stand that when we grow very old we have not the same capability for pain. AYe have seen so much misery in the world, even if wo have not oarselves experienced it, that it has no longer that exceptional character which gives it its sharpest sting. To Uncle Stephen poor Sabey was no peculiar victim of Fate's malice, but was only sharing the common lot. His heart bled for net and for his nephew, whom he dearly loved; but there was a certain cynicism, not as re garded thorn, but the general fitness or unfitness of things, which dulled its pain. When we have not religion to console us, we have often philosophy. The two men listened to her tale with the utmost interest.

" This man Rutherford knows all about it," was Mr Barlow's verdict. " His story will not hold water for a moment."

" I don't think you would have said so, Frank, if you had heard him tell it."

" It seems that everything is being done by Mr Signet that can be done1" observed Uncle Stephen. " 1 really think so," assentod Amy. " I never saw a man more in earnest, or, under the circumstances more judicious and self possessed. The detective to whom 'he has entrusted the case also seemed very intelli gent." " He should have got a warrant oat and the cabman in custody before this," said Mr Barlow.

" He did propose it, but it was I myself who objected to it, Frank. I sou had heard Rutherford speak of this matter your self, you would have been of my opinion; and it is so terrible to put an innocent man in prison. Think what people may say of dear Matt himself, and how shocking it would be even to hear it."

"And what was Mr bignet's view?" inquired Mr Barlow, not without a touch of sarcasm.

"Well, at first he was of the detective's opinion, that the poor man should be thrown into gaol; but afterwards he argue A, with me, that it would be an act of in justice. Why do you smile, tfrank 2" "At your simplicity, my darling. I think I can get at the back of Mr Signet's miud in this matter. You imagine he is sorry about Matthew, whom he never liked, and about Sabey, whom he has seen but twice in his life, and not about these dia monds, for the loss of which he is respon sible."

"I do not say that, Frank," auswurcd Amy quietly ; "I say that, considering the euornious stake which he himself has in the aiFair, he showed much feeling for our dis tress."

" If the diamonds were found, and not Matthew, however, you would find that he would exhibit considerable equanimity," observed Mr Barlow. "That was my impression, at least, from my interview with him this morning." " I was not mine, Frank; and indeed, unless from a kind motive, I don't see why he should lun c given himself the trouble to express au interest in the matter at all." " Of course he feels an interest in Mat thew's loss," replied Mr Barlow, " because the diamonds ore lost with him. And as to your notion of his having scruples about arresting Rutherford, there is no ' kind motive' about it. He wishes to treat him tenderly, as an angler treats his worm " "Or a lawyer treats his witness," put in Uncle Stephen. "Just bo," assented Mr Barlow, uncon scious of the sarcasm. "So far as Ruther ford's testimony goes—that is, if it is worth anything at all—it tends to prove the dia monds are in Lady Fatgitter's possession, and consequently that Mr Signet is not. responsible for them. His object, therefore, is not to make an enemy of the man but rather to induce him to stick to his text."

"If the effect of a legal education is to induce such a want of charity as that speech exhibita, Frank," said Amy with emphasis, " then I am glad lam not a lawyer." And, with a remark that Sabey had been already left alone too long, she quitted the room.

CHAPTER XXIII.

a Self-sacrificing resolution.

Though out dead be in their new-made graves, and our lost unfound, the wheel of fife goes on with us. We sleep (sometimes), and forget our woes; we eat, and''are strengthened to bear them. Breakfast and dinner and tea were served as usual in the little household in Cavendish Grove, and! partaken of, though sparingly. Uncle Stephen ate and drank his ordinary share, for the appetite of the aged is little affected by mental care ; and Amy took y?hat she; could, in readiness for whatever demand | might be made upon her energies; she had sent word to her pupils to explain hqr absence from them, which,for Sabey's sake, she was resolved should last till this state of suspense should be terminated. Other wise she would have hailed her ordinary occupation as an escape from thought. Her sister forced herself to sit at table, hut every morsel she strove to swallow seemed to choke her; directly after meals she wont back, like some mechancialfigure whoso spring is set free, to her seat by the parlour window. •

It was twelve hours now since Matthew ought to have arrived at hoi::o, and no tidings had come of him.nor any word from Mr Signet. The snow had ceased, but the mantle of night had fallen, and the wind still wailed and shrieked. Did he hear it, she wondered, and fopl the bitter cold, or was he in Heaven ? In the latter case, he could not bo watching her (as she would have otherwise fondly pictrared), for her misery would have made Mm wretched. Now and then, she would go upstairs and sec for the fortieth time that everything was arranged for her husband's reception in case he should be brought home ill. There was a fire in his room, the flame of which.as it tell upon anything of his,and showed it to her yearning eyes, seemed to scorch her very soul. Mothers who have lost their only children, and look upon their toys were said to suffer the like ; but surely it could scarcely be so. At her own earnest request she was mostly left alone, but Amy was on the watch for her, with the child.

At four o'clock Mr Barlow came home from the city, to which he had gone as usual, and was let in by Amy herself. " Have you any news ?" was his eager enquiry. '' No, have not you, Frank ? He shook his head. "Well, not exactly vows, and certainly not good news, but—'' .She laid her finger on her lip j but Sabejr who had mn downstairs on hearißg* the front door open, was already beside ttiem. "What is it, Frank " she said,' ■ ■•"! can bear anything but this-suspenflo.",.^,,,,». "Well, ii must soon be over, dear Mrs Hclston. What I was going to say was, that the Press had got hold of the affair;;. so that the mystery, at least,, about-poor Matihew cannot long remain uuexpirea." "Then why did you say_ it' *was 'cer tainly not good news'!" she inquired with. simplicity. ''.. . ■' . |1 "Well, only that it is not pleasant'to find one's private affairs in the news papers ; I had hoped that we should have come to the end of our trouble without publicity." . -, '% "What does it matter, if ilattheW'is only found ?" " Tliat is true ; I am glad, my dear Mrs Helston, that you take so sensible a view of the matter; I was only afraid it might hiwe been an additional source of distress to you." ah he said this he glanced significantly at Amy; she understood at once that he was deceiving her sister; and no doubt it was for her good : perhaps something had come to his knowledge winch it was essftn. tial to keep from Sabey : yet it seemed so cruel to play her false. Her suspicions were so easily lulled, and she had snch complete trust in everyone.about her; flt ee'med like abusing the confidence o\ a child.

"Of course I could not do much good at the office," said Mr Barlow. ■ : ;; i " It was I who sent you there;'? put in Amy : she had indeed insisted onhisgoing, since his presence could have been o£ no avail at home, and she knew how fri. Honiß it would have been to him, for he, was a man devoted to his calling; but she wished Sabey to understand how this had been, ~

"Of course I should have, remained here," said Mr Barlow, "could Iliave been of any service,"

"I am sure yon would," said Sabey gratefully; her ears were open to hie word*, but her eyes were once more peer ing into the darkness without. ; "I could do no work, however," con tinued Barlow, "for my thoughts were with, you both. My partner is a shrewd fellow, but 1 did not like to speak with him about our trouble without consulting you, Mrs Helston. I clung to the hope that when I came back all might be well,and that there might be no need for taking all the world—or any of it—into our confidence. I think, however, if nothing occurs in the meantime, that I will consult with Mr Bafts to-morrow." .

Sabey answered not a word: when an. ac knowledgement of kindness seemed to be necessary, she had made it; but nothing short of an appeal could now arouse her attention. What was Mr Bates to her, or Mr Anybody-else ?

Amy turned a mournful look'uponher lover, and lifted her hands in pity, "She does not hear you, Frank," she whispered. " What is it you were going to say to me when you came in f ' fie pulled a newspaper half-way out of his pocket, and motioned her towards the door. They rose softly and went out jas they did so the dining-room.,door opened, ami Uncle Stephen beckoned them in. It was pitiful to see what pains,the bid gentleman look to be very quiet in his own .honse/as tuuugh Death—and not; the feat of. Death —' was already in it. 1 ;,,' 1 ..,,1. "I kaew you had come, Barlow,'* he said, " but th.ught it better to kesp away. The presence o£ other people aeeins to add to poor sabey's burden. What'have you heard?" ( ,", '['~ ] ":/, ~-,, , "No tiling. . The thing is not talked about a* yet, but I have Been something. Here is the evening paper with a paragraph about it." He pulled it from his pocket and rcae : " MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE $F A Jeweller's assistant.— lt ts ruttwtlred tliat the assittarU of a well-known jeweller, not a hundred miles from PauletStreet, is non inventus."' , .-,, :. ; _. h,n;,a: " What English and what Latin I" ejacu culated Uncle Stdphen, screwing up his face as though he hud heard a sharpening of saws:" pray finish with it." '..,'-, ------" ' By a coincidence, which, is, to scythe least unfortunate, a large amount 0/wfa able diamonds are found to be missing from the same establishment. The Police have been, communicated with,' houiever, and we understand that they ham a elite, the meaning of that paragraph is plain enough, IthinL 7' ■ O " Yon. are paying it the only compliment that is possible, said Uncle Stephen; ~" It is curious how villainous a style of writing may bo acquired byjlong practice;" ":; \, "It is the suggestio falsi with a venge ance," observed Mr Barlow. _„ ("I wonder they "didn't put that in," soliloquised Uncle Stephen; ,'' likewise propria qua maribus Us in prxEsenti.")' "IfSabey read it,iit would;break her heart," said Amy, with a shudder, " I hope not," returned Uncle Stephen contemptously. "But surely what the man implies is that Matthew is a thief," urged\kmy.^ ' " Very likely, my dear; but what is the opinion of such a personage—with his hot inventtis and his " not a hundred^miM* fromPaulet-street"worth?" ;"- mr4 " He is a common person, no donbt,"'i6b served Mr Barlow, " but that is, |ne view, so much ihe worse for us. Hisroi nion will be the common opinion. Jive must make up our minds, for that, Ihis is but the first sputter of the mud-shower." "Do you really think so, Frank I" J "I am sure of it, Amy." . :„• : .,,.> ■' I■' " Alas my poor dear Sabey! as ""oagfi ■' she had not enough to bear alrfeady !■ J "That is true," midUflmsm^'i' but! am much mistaken ifany vfleinnendo against her lnubaud.wiU not act as a.coun- - ter irritant. It will beliarder to bearer haps, but in another sort of way._ It.is^her love that makes her loss so .lemble: these caluminics will be armourtoiierself as miich as a weapon _to his,I:6nelnies,;for she has plenty of spirit." ■ ■■■'■' % J. " But how frighttul to be thus forced to take up arms 1" sighed Amy." ■ !V.. "No doubt," said Mr Barlow; "yet 1 believe Mr Durham is right. Thattheneces s'tv will arise is certain; we shall all nave to take up amis. I have given the case my best attention the whole day* and lam con vinced that, if poor Matthew does not turn up within a few hours, all the world,, with o few exceptions, will be of this, penny-a ----liner's opinion. We shall be in a minority of four." i-i.i " That is about the proportion of sensible folks to the mass of the population, ob served Uncle Stephen, with a philosophic air. " Upon my life—with the exception of the present company, of course—A don t know four people capable of appreciating a contingent truth." i "Nothing at all events, can make our minority less smaLl," observed Amy. "Whatever others may think, we shall know that Matthew Helston can never be associated with crime or shame." "That is well said," criedUDcle Stephen

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, APEIL I 1882.

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