A CONFIDENTIAL AGENT:

JAMES PAYN, AUTHOR OP "By Proxy," "Under One Eoof," "Walter's Word," "High Spirits," Etc.

CHAPTER XVIII,

EARLY MORNING,

It was creditable to Mr Frank Barlow that, although a bit of dandy (or at all events a gentlemau somewhat choice and careful in nis personal a'tire), lie put in an appear ance at No. 7 within ten minutes of his receiving <» my's summons. There was a certain smugness and self-satisfaction about him which,ion their Brat acquaintance, and before he bogan to recognise tho young lawyer's good <i 'alitics, had set Uncle Stephen somewhat against him ; but this characteristic confidence) and serenity of mind had now their merits in the eyes of the two sisters, aiid inspired belief in him. Though ho had come so promptly, there was no sign of hurry in his face or manner —if \ic had come to a "consultation " about a right of way through tho Crescent, he could not have looked more cool ami col lected, though at the same time there was a tenderness in his tone which would probably have bcim absent had his only object been to instil confidence in n client. lie listened with attentive sympathy while Amy explained to him, in Babey's presence, wlmt had happened to alarm her, and then quietly pulled out his watch. "It is now seven o'clock," ho said. "In case nnylliinir serious—which Heaven forbid !—has really happened to Matthew, wo ought (o hear of it within the next two hours. That is tho usual practice witli both the hospitals and the police. I am looking at the nllair on its darkest side, for it is far more probable that Matt himself will return home and explain matters with his own lips. What is evident, in any case, is that you Indies must remain at home " (his keen eye had noticed Amy's thick hoots, ami also perhaps a certain feverish impatience in Sabey's manner) "to watch events and act upon them. Promptness is one thing, but no good is ever effected by hurry and aimless ellbrt. For my own part, I will just say a word to Mr Durham, ami then start at once for Paulet Street."

Theso word*, delivered with all the (aim conviction of " counsel's opinion," had the best effect: especially, too, <ia the speaker had volunteered the very service that they would have had him perform. "My dear Mrs Heiston," he continued, " I entreat you not to distress yourself. Something has, of course, occurred to delay your husband : but, out of ten thousand things that may have happened, it is very foolish to lix your thoughts upon tho worst" Then he went upstairs—for tho women had come down to the parlour—and, knock ing at Mr Durham's door, went in and closed it carefully behind him.

" What the deuce do you think has hap pened, Barlow ': inquired the old gentleman, gasping with anxiety and bronchitis, and also with the unaccustomed speed with which he wan putting on his clothes. "M;itt has been robbed, no doubt, or some attempt lias been made to rob him," replied the other in a low tone. "My objection In those errands of his lias always been based upon that ground." "[ never knew you had an objection: you always advocated his going on with thorn," ieturned Mr Durham, not without irritation.

"Only because I thought, his giving them up would prejudice him in tho eyes of his employer," returned Mr Harlow. "I always thought it a risk : but most of us have to risk something."

" You think he has risked his life, then?" "lam afraid that it has been at lenst imperilled." '• He always took his revolver with him," observed tho old man, thoughtfully.

"A very imprudent plan, in my opinion, Mr Durham. What did it matter to him if he teas robbed of these diamonds ?—ho is not responsible for them, beyond taking reasonable precautions. To shoot at a thief is something far more than that, and of com so provokes the thief to shoot in his turn. However, lam oft' to Paulet Street, where they will probably know something about it."

"I mnst say, Barlow, you seem to take the matter rather coolly."

" I am sorry you think so, Mr Durham. I will do as much for Matt as any man, as will be provrcl, perhaps; but it is necessary to retain one's judgment. Poor Mrs Hel ston U on tho verge of—Heaven Knows what—sho is in the last stage of alarm and distraction ; and Amy is, of course, terribly cut up on her sister's account." " I hope and believe she is cut up, ai you call it, on Matt's also," answered Mr Dur ham. "If you imagine that Miss Thurlow has only sympathies for her blood relations, or for the person sho proposes to morry, you are mistaken, Mr Barlow."

Uncle Stephen spoke with heat, nor did he loso .sight of the advice of that great public sueakcv who recommended that the action should suit the words, and the words the action. He was very indignant that Mr Barlow should have chosen such a momi'iit to impute imprudence, or any other fault, to .Matthew ; and also that he should have imagined the latter was not dear to his sister-in-law for his own sake. Wbo was this infernal attorney (such was the phrase, I regret to say, by which he indicated his present companion in his own mind), that he should imagine a girl like Amy should forget her best ana oldest friend in the dazzling prospect of becoming Mrs Barlnw?

"My dear Mr Durham, I exceedingly regret that I should have given you any offence," returned the young lawyer, with feeling. "If you imagine that I fail in respect—nay, in affection—to any mombor of this household, you do me wrong. It is too much my way. perhaps, to conceal my feeling* —v> " !Sot at all," put in Uncle Stephen im placably; "it[is a pity you .should ever expo'O them. You never did like my nephew, sir, and you itako this occasion— this of all others, confound you!-to ex hibit it."

Mr Barlow hold up his hands in amaze ment Ho was really innocent of what was imputed to him, only ho thought a judicial manner most appropriate to tho situation, and had used it accordingly. His appearance was so genuine and penitent, that Uncle Stephen was touched.

"l'taiea vcrba, enough," he said. "I dnrosay you mem well, sir."

"Facia, nan vcrba," returned the 'young fellow gravely; " I hope to prove my good intentions. lam oil'to I'aulct Street, Mr Durham, and if anything such as we have only too much cause to fear should have happened, I will communicate with you direct.'1

Uncle Stephen nodded; he could not trust himself to speak. He well under stood what the other meant, and the idea of his having to break tho news of some terrible catastrophe to i Sabey pained tho heart which all its weight of years had not rendered callous,

lost."

With a tight, lingering handshake from Mrs Helston, and one grave kiss — the first she had ever given him in sorrow—from his destined bride, Frank Barlow set out for Mr Signet's placo of business.

Scarcely had the door closed behind him than Amy put on her cloak and bonnet on her expedition to Hybla Mews. " Dear Amy, how fast it snows i" sighed Sabey, " why will you not let me go V " Well, dear, because it snows so fast, for one thing," answered her sister cheerfully. " It would simply kill you to go out this morning; whereas I am as strong as a horse, and used to all weathers."

"Butyou will promise me to take the first cab you see, Amy J" "Of course I will! Not a moment to be

" Kay,l was thinking of yourself.darling, I really was," said Sabey pitcously. "And yet I ought to have known you would had no thought of self, but only of Matthew."

" Well, of course you ought Is not Matthew my brother as well as your hus band, and much more than a brother ? Did he not oiler me a home ? Am I not bound to him by every tie of respect and gratitude? You talk of the snow—l would go bare foot in it to serve him."

•'Oil, how I lovo you darling, for so lovinjj him I" cried Sabey, throwing herself into the other's arms.

'" lam glad of that: but I lovo you on your own account. Kemombcr, my dear, whatever happens, that there is always one person in the world, though she is but a woman, whom you can rely upon; whom you can trust to stick to you and yours. Not, of course, but that you have lots of friends,"

" And Matthew ?" put in Sabey, witli an afFrighted air. "Of course, there is Matthew. I only meant that you would find me useful at a pinch. Now lam off. Nothing will better please me than to find that my little journey has been taken in vain, and Matt at home when I come back That's well; here is Uncle Stephen. I know he will look after you, Sabey, while I'm away, see you do uothini; rash," She spoke with a signifi cance that could not have escaped a much duller mini than Mr Durham.

" I will look after Sabey," he said, "till the one who has a better right to do so comes home again." No one replied to that, which was a, sign how low their hearts had sunk.

"Good-bye, darling — good-bye, Mr Durham ;" and Amy passed lightly out, and closed the door bcliind her.

"There is none like her—none," said Sabey tremulously. "None, since the time of the Flood," answered Uncle Stephen. "She is like the dovo that flew out of the Ark, and she will bring us back the olive-branch of good tidings, ray dear." Sabey shook her head, and answered nothing. She felt as if a prop had been taken away from her, even with the, aid of which she had been hardly able to stand

up. In the meantime Amy moved swiftly on, less like a dovo than a swallow, lightly skimming over tho new-fallen snow, though with no circuitous oruncortain course. She knew HyblaMews well enough, having often visited Sally ltuthorford in the company of her sister, when the former had been 'down,'as her husband had expressed it, with the fever. Though Amy had said she was used to such weather, she had never been in such a storm, and on foot, before. After a futile attempt to hold her umbrella up against the fury of the wind, she closed it, and walked on with still quicker steps. Not a soul was to be seen in that wild December morning, much less a cab. Thoso vehicles were always rare in the neighbour hood of the Grove, and especially so in bad weather when they were most wanted.

After half v mile of rapid travel she found herself in a broad chroughfare, looking much broader than usual from its limitless covering of enow, and from the presence, in that white wiiste, of a single policeman, who stared at Amy very hard, and shook his head ; not, we may bo sure, in reprobation, but from his utter inability to " make her out." What call could a young ludy like that have to be out-of-doors on such a morning beforo the very omni buses had begnn to run ? The sight of him turned her thoughts into their darkest channel as respected the fate of Matthew. She had very little doubt, in hi>r own mind, that he had tallen among thieves, whom the report of the value of the treasure entrusted to his keeping had cause to waylay him. A few hours ago he must have travelled the very road winch the was taking, but no harm could then havo happened to him j if such an outrage had taken place, it must have been, of courso, after he had left Moor Street with the diamonds. Then, for the first time, a thought struck her which for the moment brought her to a standstil —Could John Rutherford himself have been concerned in this matter ?

Sally, his wife, she knew -well, and had every confidence in her ; but John, she had once heard her father say (and this though blic knew ho had some liking for the man), was, ho feared, ' a bad lot;" a poacher, and a man who took more interest in racing matters than was good. Such a person was likely to fall among bad companions who might mould him to their own ends. Kutherford was in league with such, his silonco and their having heard nothing of him—which up to this time had been a source of comfort to Sabey and her self—was indeed only too easily to be ac counted for. The moro she thought of this, the more the idea oppressed her. ■Supposing Kutlierford to have been honest, it would have been very difficult for a gang of thieves to have overpowered both him and his fare ; hut if dishonest, he might have taken Matthew at a disadvan tage and without his revolver. The very notion made her blood run cold, notwith standing the speed she still kept up ; and yet, how unjust and how ungenerous, slio reflected the next moment, were these sus picions ! Tho man was under obligations both to Matthew and her own family, and had alwnys professed a regard for them, lie had been a little wild in his youth, but was understood to have long settled down to an honest calling ; and she know his good wife had confidence in him. No ; she had no right to entertain such injurious thoughts of the man ; and when she should presently learn that lie had not come home, sho would strive not to let them revive within her. And of course he had not come home.

Not half-a-dozen people did Amy meet that morning between the Crescent and Ilybla Mows, but at the corner oi the letter stood a little knot of persons just outside tho door of the public-house. The "llising Sun " had been exceptionally late ill getting up that morning, or, at all events, in dispensing its raya to customers) and these gentlemen, protected by the portico from the driving sleet, were waiting till tho house opened for their morning drain. "It is shameful!" said one in a harsh grating tone, so loud that Amy must have heard him as she passed by had she not been so deep in thought. " I have been hore, on and off, over since six o'clock. The night was so hot " hero there was a shout of laiighter. " Did I say hot ? well, of course, I meant so cold—that I could not sleep; and (there ia nothing like pepper mint to worm ope."

"That's truth at all events, if it's the only one you ever uttered, Dick," observed . another; " and yet you had enough of I drink last night, one would ha' thought, to last you till breakfast time." "Well, yes," answered Mr Dartmoor (for he it was), in that depreciatory tone we use when speaking perforce of our own virtuous acts. "I was pretty tight, no doubt; but I |went to bed early, and slept like a top, as Baggett knows, for he pitched into me, at five ;o'clock, for snoring; but arter that I couldn't sleep for the cold, and before six I was out here in hopes of getting a drop of gin and peppermint." The facts described arc not of vital interest, one would have supposed, even to Mr Dartmoor himself, yet he dwelt upon them with unwonted distinctness and regard to detail. " I never woke till five this blessed morning " He was be ginning again, when the door-bolts were withdrawn from within, and in rushed the sottish crew—save the speaker himself. His eye had glanced on Amy aa she had turned down into the Mews, and the cir cumstance had apparently awakened his curiosity. Instead of following his com panions, eacli already clamouring at the bar for his favourite liquor, he made for the archway which formed the entrance of the Mews, and, concealing himself behind a buttress of it, watched her with eager eyes. Presently he brought his trembling hands together with a smack, and exclaimed, in a tone of exnlting malice, "Begad, I thought so- she's bound for Kuthcrford's ! Now, I would give a pound to hear his story."

CHAPTER XIX. AMY'S QUEST.

Unconscious of the interest she had awakened in Mr Richard Dartmoor's breast, and even of that individual's exis tence, Amy sped down tho just-awaken ing Mews, her preseuce causing a rubbing of eyes and scratching of heads among the few stablemen who were standing at their doors ; which, however, ended in a yawn, and a retirement to the harness-room fire, when she disappeared into Rutherford's house Pally herself let her in, in a costume that might have been a ball-dres j, there was so very little of it, and with astonishment depicted on her round, red face, seldom seen except in masks at Christmas time. "Why, what in Heaven's name, Miss Thurlow, brings you here?" she ex claimed ; "and m a morning like this, too, as would be hard upon a Polar bear ?"

"Trouble, Sally; great anxiety and trouble upon my sister's account. Mr Helston has not come home."

" Gad a mercy, you don t say so !"

" Yes, I do 1 of course it has alarmed us very much. But how is it that you have had no anxiety upon your own account ? We thought that Johu's being absent also was a good sign, ao far as my brother-in-law was concerned; unless, indeed, some accident might have happened to both of them."

"But John ain't absent, praise bo to God! John be here," exclaimed Mrs Rutherford.

"John at home! your husband come back ! Oh, Sally, what can it mean ?"

" I don't know, Miss Amy, but I'll soon find out." She spoke with vehemence, and even anger; but as she placed her foot upon the stairs to nscend them, sbe paused, and a change came over her honest face.

" What is it?' cried Amy, in a quick low voice, and seizing the other's arm. "What is it you|fear, Sally? I adjure you to tell me all." " 1 fear nothing, ma'am ; leastways, I fear nothing on John'n account. Ho's as straight as a die ; yes, I am sure he is, though he goes more often to the 'Sun' than I approve of, and mixes there with folks as lie can do him no good. Oh, depend upon it, Miss Amy, wliatever has happened, my John has clean hands !" "What do you mean by clean hands, woman ?—hands without blood on them?" cried Amy, in intense excitement.

"Lor bless you, miss, don't ye talk like that, or I shall have fits," sobbed Sally. " I did have fits when John was brought home inside his cab instead of a top of it, when he was run over by the 'bus. Don't bring 'cm on agin with talking o' blood. No; what I meant was, if aught lias happo/icd to them dimonds, my John has no more to do with it than your dear sister's two-month's babe. It ain't in his nature to covet another man's goods, far less to steal 'em. Don't be hard upon him, Miss Amy; you're thinking of that poaching business down at Latbury; but that's neither here nor there. Kicli folks and poor folks will never agree about game; but stealin' is o^uitc a different matter, and as to them dimonds "

" Never mind the diamonds !" cried Amy impatient]y, '' I want to know about Matthew "

"Stand here, then, on the stairs, and you shnll hear all John knows about him from his own lips,' answered jJally, in a voice that could not be gainsaid. What she meant was that she had that trust and confidence in her husband that Amy herself might judge, from his own tone and manner, whether he was guilty or not. A. plan which was put in effect at once in this wise: the door at tho head of the stairs opened directly into the conjugal chamber, so that to one who stood on the upper flight every word spoken by the occupants of the room could be distinctly heard. To this post of vantage Mrs Rutherford beckoned Amy up, and then proceeded to rouse her unconscious spouse. "John! John !"

" Urn—ah ! what is it lass?' murmured a thick and sleepy voice. " What time did you come home last night?"

" What's that to you ? Lite enough to ■want sonic hextr.a sleep this morning. Can't yon let a body be ?" '•No I can't, or leastways shan't, till you have answered my question. What time did you come home ?" " Well, about four o'clock, and a most cussed morning it was ?" "But you never took Master Matthew home as usual ?"

" Um—nh ! ■well, that's queer ;no more I did, now I come to think about it; but how should you know?" " Never you mind ;I do know it. And he ain't come home yet, and it's going on for cght o'clock." "Will, let it go. I've answered your question, and that's omiff; just_ stop your cackle. Not another word will I say, s'lielp me Bob." And John rolled over in his bed like an indignant porpoise, "John—John Kuthcrford I" cried a clear firm voice from the stairs without; "listen to me. I am Miss Tlmrlow, whom you know, and I am come about my dear brother, Matthew Hclston." to sec John's face as this statement reached his ears was indeed a picture. If his wife had flung the toa-kcttle, which had just begun to spit and sputter on the lire, at his' head, and herself after it, he would probably, have been considerably less astonished. His first idea was the in adequatencss of his own appearance and surroundings to the honour thus un expectedly conferred upon him, and he snatched at the garments which plentifully bestrewed his bed, and drew them about his neck, as Diana might have seizedher dressing-jacket, anyhow, when surprised by Actceon, Only John was infinitely

more surprise.] than Diana was. His face was purplo from the painful sonso ol tnc indelicacy of his position; and the voice in which'he besought his wife, in a moving whisper, to say a few words for him, was absolutely apoplectic. " If you'll only go a little lower down the stairs, Miss Amy," said Sally, touched by the embarrassment of her spouse, "John will put on his clothes in a twink ling, and give you every explanation. Accordingly in two minutes John ap peared at the head of the stairs m his ordinary in-door apparel, and humbly sub mitted himself to examination. . "What I have come about, John, is 01 course, Mr. Helston's absence. Why is he not come home t" "Well, Miss Amy, I will not deceive you: nor, indeed, is there any call so to do, since there is really nothing much amiss. What I thought was that Master Matthew would ha' come home of himself long afore this hour, or I should have gone to the Grove the first thing and let you know about it; but the fact is, he seemed rather bad last night—and such a night as it was, too !—with his cough, and Lady Pargiter she kep him in Moor Street be cause of it" "Lady Pargiter kept him in Moor Street?" ,„ .. ' " Well, ye=, Miss Amy; it did rather astonish me, I own, for I should ha' thought Master Matthew was one to go home in any case. But it did blow and snow as never was, and her ladyship asked him to take a bed for the night—leastways, young Six foot said so—and so lie stopped." " It is incredible !" exclaimed Amy. "I thought it a rum go, myself, miss," assented John.

It was a peculiarity of Amy's never to ily off at a tangent (as is the habit of her bex) from any subject, but to sift and win now it until she got at firm ground. " Did Mr. Helston tell you he was ill? "No, miss; 1 only gathered it from his appearance—he looked ill and pale like— and from his cough.'' " But would you have noticed all that if the footman had not told you that my brother-in-law was going to remain in Moor Street?" "Well, I don't think I should, miss." It was therefore, it seemed, no sudden or, serious attack of illness that had caused Matthew to accept the offer of a hospitality so unexpected, and, as she was well con vinced, so unwelcome, as that of Lady Par giter. John's manner was perfectly honest and straightforward; she had no doubt that he was telling her the truth, and yet the truth was so inconceivable. "No message was given you as to how long Mr. Helston meant to stay?" she continued. " No, miss; it was snowing heavy at the time", so I didn't ask no questions; and_ the truth is I was very glad to be let go straight home myself." ' "You understood, however, that Mr. Helston would return in the morning, ■when the storm abated, and before our household were up, so that he would not be missed ?" "Yes, miss, that was just it; otherwise I should ha' gone to the Grove and let you know what had happened." " I suppose I can have a cab at once?" said Amy, after a moment's reflection: "not yours, of course, for both horse and man must be tired." " I'll call one, miss, from the verander," answered Mrs. Rutherford, who had been a witness from an upper step to all that passed. Several of the cab-driving inhabi tants of the Mews were by this time astir, and the vehicle was procured immediately. " Now, ekall I go with you, Miss Amy V said Sally. "It s only just puttin' on my bonnet '

" No, I thank you," answered Amy gratefully. "I shall do very well by my self." She felt it kind of the good woman, but also that her society would just then be insupportable. A talkative, superficial companion is one of the greatest aggrava tions to anxiety, and poor Amy was still very anxious :"her thoughts of robbery and murder had, it was true, been dispelled, but iv their place had come a scarcely less dreadful seuse of apprehension upon Mat thew's account. In his sane mind, and having the physical ability to get home, it was incredible that he should have pre ferred to remain even for a few hours in Moor Street Was it not possible that his brain, overwrought with recent anxiety on Sabey's account, in addition to Jts usual burden of care, liad suddenly given way ? Throughout her journey to Moor Street, in reality tardy by reason of the opposing wind and snow, but which seemed to her nervous impatience to last for hours, she felt as if she were going mad herself. At last the long, tall street was reached, looking even more gaunt and grim than usual through the driving sleet. Though it was near nine o'clock, not a sign of awakening life was visible ; the blinds and shutters were all closed as though each house had held a tenant recently deceased; even the hum of the neighbouring traffic was inaudible, hushed by the new-fallen snow.

Though Sir Charles Pargiter's residence showed no more vitality about it than the rest, all within it were not sunk in slumber, for the cabman's summons brought one of the "Six-foots" (as John Rutherford had termed them) to the door with even greater rapidity than was usual during afternoon call-time. His attire, it is true, was not bo complete or spotless as at that period: he was, in fact, in a very dirty undrees jacket; and the powder in his hair was what the War Office would have described as «' damaged it was evidently the powder of the pre vious night. . . . "What is it now?" he inquired m a surly tone, and holding the door open a very little way. " I have brought a fare here, said the cabman," as it come to inquire ffter Mr Helston." "What, another I" said the footman with cynical mirth, "Why, I'm blessed if the town ain't gone mad about that man." "Is not Mr Helstou here?" inquired Amy, win' had now herself left tho cab, and made her way up the slippery steps. "Is he better and gone home, then?" " If-you mean the gent from Mr Signet's, iiia'am, he was here this morning to fetch I'ier ladyship's jewels as usual, but that is e,U we know about him." •' What ? Did not your mistress ask him to stay on account of tho bad weather, and tcciiuso of nis own ill-health?—l have been certainly told so?" " Then indeed ma'am, you've been told— well, what certainly ain't the fact." The footman's face spoke volumes ; and what it said was, that, of all the brilliant fictions aver invented, that idea of Lady Pargiter having asked the gent from Signet's to stay over the night in Moor-street because he had a cold in his head did the greatest credit to the human imagination. "Buthis cabman tells me that lie left him hero I" exclaimed poor Amy in great distress; which, somehow, the very vul garity and absurdity of the scene seemed to enhance.

"His fce&manl" repeated the footman contemptuously; "kebmen will'say any thing to oblige their fares; or, for the matter of that, lie niay have robbed and murdered the gent himself, and tried to lay it at our door for want of a better At all events, Mr Helston ain't here, ma'am,"

he added more kindly, seeing ttat at ft, misplaced pleasantry Amy grew deadly" I pale; "he came at three oclock, Bomt'tl mate the footman tells me, and went away ' in about half-an-hour as usual witb her f-. I ladyship's dimonds ; and .that's all as vjfef knows about it, I do assure you." a i 1 The roan had either learned his lcuatwi' so well that his testimony was not to^mi taken, or, what seemed much more pro. i bable, he was upeaking the tiuth. Aujw said no more; but dazed with dismay aiS '£■. I terror, and not knowing what to thick m.'ftj what to fear, she hurried hack into the cab j#.l and bade the man drive to Paulet-gtreet.

CHAPTEB XX. ME SIGNET'S PHILOSOPHY. Like one in a nightmare, hut without the ' consciousness that sometimes happens '&'•s£' such cases of its being nothing but a dreamt j nay, with the consciousness tiat|ij although too terrible for reality, reak'ty'jtf!! was-»my arrived at Mr Signet's' <lom|m| The shutters of the jeweller's shop ware ntti'S' yet unclosed, but no sooner had the bfflil' rung that it brought out no less a persoa ''"■s■ than the proprietor himself. The gigheiajl him after her late talk with comparatively § f irresponsible or indifferent persons, ded her a ray of comfort; while on to other hand, her coming bad obviously aa t agreeable effect on Mr Signet. i^affiH "I am arraid I owe this honoM./Mfpflfi Thurlow," he said, "to a stroke of niisfor.i,^ tune ; nevertheless, you are very weloomuHK He held out his hand, which BheJ§j|fflß mechanically, and followed him 'nfcoi^B house. It was brilliantly lit up « and she could hoar people moving altfcj 5 and talking together in that state of fij^ I excitement which an event that has Znyiterj I in it aa well us misfortune is apt to oajfe ' jl in even the best-disciplined housebajW f ' Have you any news of my bnjtDn . j law ?" was Amy's first question, if "None at all, Miss ThurlorMjp fj '* know that he has not been here immhtv Si a special messenger was despfeilj^ |T with that information; and theidiamowJa 'A are not in the safe.", f Then for the first time the .ierrMe fiigni-; * 5 ficance of their absence—forgotten* iiirtaSto-"1; •' in that of Matthew himself—flashed oil '■'!"". "Great heaven, Mr Signet!' she ei claimed with fire, "you don't suppose that -'- Matthew Helston " "No, no, I don't," put in Mr Signet." earnestly. " I have the liighest confident : • in your brother-in-law's integrity: I feel a';;'i conviction that jio relative of yours—noone whom you have permitted yourself to love f: and respect—could act so unworthily." ; Amy^s emotion was so extreme that she .•>"-' did not take in the full meaning of Ms. . worde, but only the general drift of them, .'.i; Than he should be paying her compliments ' ■ while a catastrophe so overwhelming was >. was hanging over their heads never entered into her mind; she only perceived that Mrßg Signet believed in Matthew, and Bhe felt grateful to him accordingly. «'No one that knows him," she said,.' 11 could ever doubt him." " That is quite my view, Misa Thurbw. ,| ; ; Pray come in and let us talk this matter"?-!: over. This is your brother-in-law's own■-'■; room, you know." He led her into the chamber where >A Matthew was wont to sit and work amoag!'|l j the clocks and birds. „ >'fM'M ', Like the shop into which it openrf,it '•:] < was just now well lighted up, and/Aada t very brilliant appearance. The^lars of \ \ light, in such strong contra^ with the::•.; j wintry street she bad justify aazded •« ; Amy's eyes, and as it flaaKfl'tathe gold ;JJ| and precious stones aroumf herjshe felt like rjM one in an Arabian tale who SBd|en]y ; finds 1 himself by malign ODchantmfntmpdsoned ■: '3 in a cavern of diamonds andjabfes^ helpless ,M and well-nigh hopeless. j : :, 4' j She had not breakfasted and ,^as ex- .'» haustcd with the exertionsofthe fflofning, and still more with its /ret and mm. She was conscitup that J6r mind, ap Toiog in a state of. tension, kd now, koome unstrung; and here i'a man wHo, though menaced by a /errible pecuniary ■ loss, seemed calm and col and to have hu \, wits about him: it wa' only natural that • she should have conijence in him, and V that she should show i( Mr Signet noticed ler pale face and x trembling hands; and,rtnging a bell, ga\« .-. orders for a cup of effee to be brought, \\ which she gratefullyJcepted, though the \ food which accompany it she was unable ;;■ " Of course this magr is a very serious ; one—to both of us.fhe said, when the '/ colour had come bal into her cheeks a ' little; "but nothing to be gained by <":;i distressing ourselvej Tinnecessarily. A ' gentleman came frjn Cavendish Grove , ; this morning " f "Indeed! I didihot catch his name," returned Mr Signetfcareleßsly. "However, : he tells me that MrfHelston lias not come home; he has certably not beenhere; and . i I have sent to L|y Pargiter's, in Moor | Street, and her peple tell me he left tne house—with the a»ondß-ab i out halt-past ! 4 three this mornin#hat is all we have to aU the r^ws thefd of Matthew; little enough in one sfa bu^J^l^ momentous, hovf oignant with dreadful ta t h|to.bedone-in^ l j have already do3*~:M. f coWlae ' *° Sl^ had been stung, and the blood r*ed to her face. " The police repeated she. "Well yes Mr Hekiton's appearance ii has been 'desci* to them as accurately as | we could, an* »ow at every station in . the metropoUsfH be has come to ham which Heavenfrbid-we shaU know it in ji a few hours. Pur next move will be to ffl To c|au ..Your brother-inJaw ; J always emphjd the same man, I under- 1 stand-one|>hn Kutherford; and Mr; ■ Barlow pron|d to let me know at once Mews, Bromptoni I have been t* myseU this morning." - ■ "Indeed!|You are as prompt,, Miss : Thurlow, afou are energetic, said the ieweller adfringly, as he put. down the | adtoss onler. " The man is; nuiising, « of course!"l , . i „. itii« : * "On thefntrary, he came home at his. | morning. Be accordingly left him there, audcamefvay." ; " Left In in Moor Streo!" exclaimed Mr Signet, Jtbg to his feet, "and on her ; , ladvshipiuvitation! Impossible! ; o , I;! '^Or/rse, it seems in the highest I dearee Irobable; and when I called in I Moor S*t. I received the same reply that • was givfto your messenger, WH"^™* I Mattiiefbad gone away as I navin(r|:oniplwbed his errand. On tn^iM ffM'l am bound to .say tM ;.:| Rutliei*>d gave mo the impression of. one | who ispeaking the truth. ±-4 < ■ T+ gust possible," muttered Ml Signet, : _ : pacin«Hhe room with, rapid strides; vf »eve9ibinß is possible with a ■woman of 1 that kid. She wanted the mevney-that I;■ I SW tried to get it out of me. Smoe i § ! ' I

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, MARCH 25 ; 1883,

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