A CONFIDENTIAL AGENT:

BY JAMES PAYN, AUTIIOB OF "By Pboxv," "Under Oxk Roof," "Walter's Wokd," "High Spirits," Etc.

CHAPTEII XXX,

ANINTKItVIUW WITH THE LADIKS

UtClt men who can afford to neglect their business, or idle men who have none, have exceptional opportunities (though it does not appear that they universally take advan tage of them) of cultivating the domestic affections, It is curious, when one comes to think of it, what a very small portion of his life a man in business, or in one of the professions (if ho practises as well as pro losses) pusses in the society of Ida wife and children. Ho sees them at breakfast-time, ana that is in many cases absolutely the only lime that he nets eyes upon his little ones, for lie <locs not come home to his late dinner till they ure gone to bed. In the case nf his grown-up progeny he dines anil .spends the evening with them -and, except on Sundays, thut is nil the intercourse lietwron them, A vast deal more of his time—that is, of his life -is spent with Tom, Dick* and II wry in the Law Courts, or (1 regret to addjduriug his afternoon rubbers at the club, than in the society o£ bis nearest anddourcst.

Tom and Dick arc scarcely aware, that he •v.- married ; and mi thu other hand, hi.s family ;uc not much interested in Tom and .1 lick. He passes, in fact, two separate exis tences, though we arc in the habit of speak ing and thinking of him ns it lie had but one. Nature, 1 think, is kind in (his mutter, oi oih> would fear that the absent Pater familias would he looked upon by his o!F ---.sptiug more as a mere Bread-winner, and less ns v Father, than is tha case with the mule parent who can afford to stop at homo aud cultivate tin.' homo nll'ections., The stay-at-hoino, however, fortunately doesn't always cultivate them. I have known families who complain that dear papa has 110 occupation of hi.s own, and therefore worries Himself (i. c. insists on meddling) about matters of the house. We all know what ii hunting man is within doors during v haul frost; and think of having an Inflic tion of the same sort always! These things no doubt tend to equalise matters; and may be set down on the " not contra" side. The man of business and the barrister can scarcely become unpopular at home through being too much there. Lit the case of the little household in Cnvemlish tfrovo, Uncle Stephen was generally to bo found on the nest, while poor Matthew, before he left it in sn mysterious a fashion, had to forage far away for food from morn to eve ; and the fame fate, though he had no house hold nt present, was Mr Frank Barlow's. Ou Sundays, of course, the gentleman was at leisure, and lam afraid Air Signet took Hi;- fact into his calculn.ions in deferring to carrytoNo "the tidings he had received from ft! its Selwond until Monday. I cannot per smido myself that it was sheer respect for the Snhbnth, when he had passed its morn ing in interviewing that young lady, and its aftornom in literary composition. He ca!l-d nbout eleven o'clock, when all really hardworking lawyers have been in their cobwebs for tin hour.and most of them have caught ally or two, and a«ked boldly for Miss Thin low. He was .shown into the dining-room, where that joung lady at once joined him ; he did not perhaps quite understand that it was for Matthew's sake she could not afford to 10-e a moment, but set down her promptness to a motive more complimentary to himself. Her welcome, however, though perfectly genuine—for how could she be otherwise than eager to bear his news ?—was far from demonstrative. She did not return the pressure of his hand, .md looked so grave in answer to hi* " My dear Miss Thurlow," and the sympathetic manner which aecompanieiWr, that one less conscious of his own merits, and of the happiness he proposed to confer, might have imagined that she designed to reprove him. Sheliad cause enough for gravity, poor soul, as they all had in that house; but her air was designedly more distant than it had been on the last occasion, This was because she bad assured Mr liarlow that nothing should induce her to alter her beha viour to Mr Siguot. On the previous day they had a long dis cussion about him, in the course of which Mr Barlow had said some hard things of the worthy jeweller. He had called him a wilf-sccking, coarse-grained, grasping fellow, who—notwithstanding any preten sions he might make to good feeling—had nothiiig in view but his own ends. " I don't think he is grasping," Amy had rejoined, without any reference to the other charges; "on the contrary, considering that Tic lias so much money, and hai made most of it himself, ho appears to me to bo rather careless of expenditure. "He is ostentatious enough, no doubt." 11 No I don't think he is ostentatious, Frank."

Her reading of Mr Signet's character was so far correct: he was fond of money—that is to say, he had the l.ritish trader's delight in turning the nimble nincpence—but lie was too shrewd to be avaricious. If he did not know that inker was the Latin word for miserable, he felt that they were synony nious terms. Schemes for scraping and saving were abhorrent to-him. He gave employe's oxcellout wajros, and upon the whole they liked him. _ And he treated himself to anything which he took a fancy, regardless of it* .■rice. He was about to measure his mireo against Lady Porgiter's quite as much from his personal dislike rf her as witli a view of evading his responsibility with respect to the jewel?, though indeed he firmly believed she had got them. It is not to be -supposed that, even yet, Mr Frank Barlow was jealous of a man double his own age and little more than half his height, but bin pretensions, which he by this tuno well understood, wore natu rally ollensivo to bim. It was indeed to the last degree impudent of the man to entertain them, knowiug as he did that Miss Thurlow was engaged; but on the other hand, he had never made any actual proposal to her; and if lie «iid, Amy had an all-sufficient answer to it. Under other circumstances, no doubt, she would have taken measures for dismissing him at once ; but it seemed monstrous to her, after that communication of Mi- Dur ham's to him, that the jeweller should still entertain such hopes; ami his aid and countenance were just now so necessary to poor Matthew, even though it were only to Jiis memory. Moreover, the whole ense lay in Mr Signet's hands, and on him they were dependent for those tidings which, to one at least in that household] had become the only thing to which her ears were open. '• I ■will not make an enemy of Mr Signet, if I can help it," Amy had said ; not with vehemence, for she showed no sign of "temper," but with a resolution that not even, a lover's remonstrance could shake.

" 1 tlqti't ask you to be rude to him," re turned Mr Barlow, rather weakly, for he himself was a good deal "put out" "but you ought not to encourage him." "Encourage him, Frank ?"_ There was an indignation in her oye=i as well as her toue which should have made the young lawyer repent having used so strong a term; but he prided himself on never making any allegation without proofs —nor even then, if it was actionable.

"You are wearing the ring lie gave you on your linger, Amy," he said. " You are well aware that at one time be had the in tention of proposiug to you—yes, you arc; if you could not gather it from his own con duct to yourself, his behaviour when poor Matthew told him you were engaged to me put that beyond a doubt. And being purse-proud, and not a gentleman, nor any thing like it, he still thinks he has a chance."

Amy made a gesture of disbelief, that had also something of disgust ia it. "Supposing even thut you are right Frank, which I utterly refine to believe," she said, "you have still to explain how I have encouraged him." "He calls on you personally, and you do not refuse to see him ; you would have seen him alone yesterday if I had not prevented it. His manner towards you—his affecta tion of sympathy, that is—is most imperti incut."

" But why should he not feel sympathy with us,'" she urged; "a heart of stone might feel it." " The")! let him bo sympathetic with me. Let him talk to me with his hand upon hid heart, and in a voice broken with emotion. It's all a piece of acting." "Stlli, you have not come to your charge against me of encouraging him." " Well, you encourage turn by pretending to believe his sympathy to be genuine; by seeing liim alone ; by talking to him in a confidential manner. I should wish—if it is necessary to see the man at all -that your manner to him Bhould bu altored," ._ "My dear Frank," said Amy, speaking very gently, " I must see Mr Signet when lie comes, because he is the bearer of tidings which have a vital interest for me. To please you-though I think it cruel and unjust of you to entertain such suspicions of liiiu, under the cir<:um«tancci ii which my poor sister and 1 are placed : any man with n heart would as soon think of making love over a death-bed—to please yon I will not see Mr Signet alone ; but he has been on the whole both kind and considerate to us, and I cannot make him the ill return of being uncivil to him, I see nothing to find fault with in my manner toward.-, him, uml I shall maintain it."

Auilthat win why she was so cold and prnvi! to Mr Signet when be called the next day.

That gentleman, however, put this down ns a. coiuoquenco of the domestic calamity, which ouch hour of course was rendering more deep and hopeless.

" And how is your poor sister, Miss Thurlow?"

" Her stntc is most distressing ; but on hearing you were here she at once expressed a wish to see you. Will you kindly conic with me ;" and she moved towards the door, which at her entrance she had not closed behind her.

" Well, I wanted to say a few words to you first and alone. I have the strangest news to communicate to you concerning Lady I'arbiter." "That will interest mv sister, Mr Signet, equally with myself. Be good enough to step this way."

Her face was Hushed with the recollec tion of her promise to Frank—that is, of the reason why she was declining to let Mr Signet speak with her alone ; but her voice was very firm. It was impossible to mistake her object, and Mr Signet set it down to a last desperate attempt upon the young woman's part to resist his fascina tions. A struggle of tbis kind was under the circumstances only to have been expec ted. There were certainties to be sundered ; he did not like her the less for not dropping into his hands like a ripe peach. Moreover, he found it necessary to obey her, and fol lowed her at; once into the parlour where Sabey was sitting, fronting the ■window as usual, with some baby clothes upon her lap. It was curious, and very sad, to sec the change those few days of misery had wrought in her. Her figure, always slight, had become almost emaciated. Her youth was gone, its brightness and buoyancy ex changed for a certain haggard keenness— Biicn as is generally to be seen only in the vicious and the degraded; only her eyes redeemed her from any such associations. Naturally large, they had now attained abnormal dimensions; or perhaps the shrinking of the face made it appear so, while the expression of them was pitiful to the last degree : " homes of silent prayer " they might well indeed be called; but with a certain look of resolve in them, also, which is not the usual accompaniment of religious resignation.

"It is very kind of you, Mr Signet, to come to us so often," she said; and the jeweller noticed that her voice, though low, had a grenter clearness than on tlio last oc casion. " Your news is the only news that has any interest for us now."

" I only wish it, were better, my dear Mrs Hels'ton. Still"—for he noticed the little colour in her checks paled at once— " I have at least no worse news for you than on Saturday. It chiclly relates to Lady Targitcr. Your husband and I always took the same view of her ladyship's character; but nothing that we thought of her can come up to what I have now cause to believe her capable of. Conceive her attempting to hold me responsible for her diamonds, without even possessing my agent's receipt for them. From informa tion received However, to such friends as yourself and your excellent sister, I may srty exactly what has oc curred."

Then he repeated to them the revelation made by Miss Patty Selwood. When all was told, and perceiving that Mrs Helston —to whom lie had mainly addressed him self—was by no means so moved by the recital as ho had expected, he turned to hot sister.

" Mrs Helston does not appear to com prehend the enormous importance that the absence of this receipt may be to us '!" " N&y, rather, Mr Signet, she docs not— nor, I confess, do I—perceive its bearing upon the disappearance of her hnsbnnd." The jeweller—whom the glitter of the diamonds had for the time, as it were, blinded to this other particular—hastened lo repair his mistake. "Then let me explain that at once," he said. "The fact I speak of has a very strong though indirect relation to your domestic calamity. It makes Rutherford's evidence against Lady Pnrgitcr of much more weight; it points to her guilty know ledge of the robbery, and therefore by im plication of whnt hal* "become of Mr Helston, and in this light it is hopeful." " In what respect ?" inquired Amy. "Well; though she may have stolen the diamonds, it is unlikely that she would have gone to the length of—of doing any bodily harm to Mr Helston. She has probably only put him out of the way. I mean that siuce there must needs be some guilty person in this matter, it is better if it turns out to be her ladyship than any ordinary criminal who might stick at nothing. It is this reflection that gives me

much satisfaction in her waiting-maid's statement.

" Hut it is incredible,"'said Amy, " that even Lady Pargiter- or indeed any woman —could have——"

" Oh, I be* your pardon ; it's ju»t like a woman," interrupted Mr Signet; "or rather, I should say," he jidded, with a sudden remembrance of the sex of Ms auditors, "it is just like the conduct of a person unused to commit . this class of crimes. Her course of conduct has been so audacious jtnd so careless of the conse qnencos. YShe sends her own servant to recall the cab (which, remember, she has since denied); she persuade* Mr Helston to remain under her roof on the pretence of hospitality, and then causes him to be deprived by force of that which had been eotrusled to his cliaige; but, being honest and faithful, ho refuses—no matter under what pressure—to furnish her with the receipt which constitutes her legal claim." " But should not Matthew have given her the receipt before he quitted the bouse the first rtnifi V observed Amy. "A very judicious remark,' observed Mr S gnet ■ " the very one that Mr Brail, my detective himself made when I suggested me view of the ca«e. Yes, she had his receipt no doubt ; but, somehow or other, Mr Holston must have had the opportunity of destroying it afterwards when he per ceived her wicked intentions. That is only ■i bare supposition, nf course; but the whole supposition is at present guesswork Nothing that wo can suppose is, at all events, more improbable than what has actually occurred ; and my explanation of the matter accounts for hjth the absence of the receipt and the disappearance of Mr Ilelston. As to the latter—which is, of course, our main consideration-] am unable to dismiss from my mind the circum stance tint your excellent husband was personally obnoxious to Lady Pargiter, Thi?, though it may not absolutely account for everything, maybe a factor in the case. She may have attempted to bribe him ; there may have been n quarrel ; and, being of an ungovernable temper and utterly un scrupulous, she may have been driven further ih in she intended.'1

"Do you mean to suggest," said Sabey iv hollow tones, " that this woman has mwdrrcd my husband." "My dear madam, nothing of the kind. Yon alarm me above measure, and make me' regret having reposed my confidence in you. To one person—that is to say, without a witness—one can say anything ; that is why 1 was so anxious to speak with Mus Thnrlow alone upon this matter. I hope another time that she will understand that I have a reason for what I ask. But before a witness—that is to say, when you ure both present—it is unadvisablc to open one's begirt ton unreservedly. Not that Lady Pargiter has any right to complain of my saying anything. The infamous accu sations of dishonesty that she has made against myself and Mr Helstou—" '' When 1. Where ?" inquired Sabey with sudden eagerness ; her liquid eyes aglow, like the phosphorescent gleam of some ocean lake.

"She made them to Mr IJrail ; she made them to her waiting-maid; the caused them, without doubt, to find ther way on Saturday into print. Bythc-by, I have another newspaper paragraph to show you that concerns us all, Mrs Helston."

"Let me see it—give it to me," she cried, w«th eagerness. Amy made no attempt to stop her : the infamous sugges tions against her husband's honour of which she was already in pos-ession had had, as Uncle Stephen had predicted, by no means a bad cfl'ect upon Sabey. Strange to say, indeed, they might be said to have had a good effect: they had substituted for her brooding, an indignant, almost dcOant, frame of mind ; and for her despondent and despairing thoughts all sorts of schemes for vindic(vting|his innocence, which, how over vague nud impracticable, were by comparison a wholesome mental pabulum. It gave her a sort of galvanic strength, and —what was of real consequence—a desire for life, though but for a single end. Even though lieV Matthew were lost for ever to her, she would not wish to die before she liud given the lie to his detractor and cleared his memory from reproach. " This paper takesquite a different view," observed, Mr Signet encouragingly. " Yes ; I suppose I ought to be thankful for it," .said Sabey with a sad smile. "The writer, at all events, meant kindly," put in Amy, who was reading over her shoulder.

"lam sure he did," said the jeweller, blushing; not because he had written the paragraph—for, as we know, that was not the case—but because he knew that he was producing the impression tbat he had done so.

" Have you brought mo back Matthew's picture ?" inquired Sabey softly. "No, not to-day": yesterday was Sun day, you know—a dies non—l shall hope to bring it you "—heic he turned to Amy— " to-morrow."

"My sister will be glad to have it back," said Amy. It was very disagreeable to Mr Signet that she would persist in avoiding any reference to herself. He was dis couraged by the result of his visit altogether, though he felt that he mi<*ht have made a worst impression but for his own dexterity. The indifference these women had manifested to his news about the diamonds was most extraordinary; of course they were anxious about Heiston, but they seemed to have no sense of com parison. He began to think that Amy had not quite so much intelligence as he had credited her with; and yet,somehow,he did not think less of her on that account. The tenderness of the Dove seemed in her case preferable to the sagacity of the Owl; and yet, with all her quietness, he was aware that there was a certain air of Belfconfi dence about her—the natural fruit, had he but known it,of independence of character; and that also gave him satisfaction, He felt that a woman of that kind, if properly dressed, (so he put it, as though she had been on the board instead of at it), would look uncommonly well at the head of his table.

Amy did not accompany him—as on the last Occasion—to the front door, but rang the pa' lour bell for the maid-servant; and he couhl not but perceive that the pressure of his hand at parting was not returned.

This wounded his self-love. Still, all previous engagements notwithstanding, he could scarcely conceive her refusing the sole surviving representative of Star and Signet if he should really condescend to pro pose to her. At present he had not positive ly made up his mind to do so. If Lady Pargiter's guilt should be brought home to her, he would oiler the girl his hand ; but if it should turn out that Matthew Hclston lmd absconded with the jewels, he was not sure his passion for her was so strong that it would survive her connection with dis grace.

CHAPTER XXXI.

UNCLE STEPHEN'S VJEw

It sometimes happens,though very ravely, that some great passenger ship, bound for America or the Indies, will go down in the waste of ocean and leave not a vestige of her existence behind her ; and even then in the minds of those who have had their dear ones entrusted to her treacherous keeping there is hope. She may have been delayed by contrary winds, or beaten out of licr

course : that when such time elapses as to forbid that supposition, it is possible —just possible—that she may have been wrecked, on some out-of-the-way if not unknown coast, and her living tenants saved. But eren this well-nigh desperate cass affords no parallel in respect of its lack of hope to that of the sudden disappearance in the waste of London of an honest man entrusted with a great treasure. Every suggestion of common sense points to but one explanation of sucli a mystery. To those who believe in his integrity, he is as a dead man ; and in their cyea it is better so, since otherwise he must needs be whit he appeira in the eyes of the world at large—a Thitf. Into the minds of Matthew Hclston's wife and sister this last supposition, indeed, could never enter; but day by day the other alternative was being urged with greater force upon them. It was a sort of peincforte cC dura of the mind ; the weight npon it was increased hour hy hour—"»s much as they conld bear," as the old brutal statute said, "and more."

Sabcy still took her meals—"-nourishment sufficient to keep life apd strength within ker she vaguely felt, might, for Matthew's sake, be required of her; but she took them in her own room. Society, even that of her own belongings, was become too much for her; to conversation, even upon the subject next her heart, siic could no longer give attention. Mr Barlow saw her every evening for a few minutes ; she looked f'>r hU coming vaguely—be might be the bearer of some news. And Uncle Stephen would come and sit in silence by her side,with her little hand clasped in his, for half an hour at a time. 15ut so cruel was her case, that friendship and sympathy had lost their power

Both men were toolionestaiv! too wisean}* longer to encourage hope within her, end it was for that alone she yearned ; and the visits of Mr Signet Jwerc, tor this reason, absolutely more welcome to her.

Amy's presence, on the other hand, was very precious : mt from the habits of old days and their associations unconsciously working with her, but because Amy alone knew what fhe felt, and could, in part at leas', share her sorrow. She insisted, how over, on her sister's dining below stairs. "It is hard enough for dear Uncle Stephen as if is," she said: "1 am very hard upon him myself "

"He understands, darling," put in Amy. "I hope so, I trust so. Matthew owe< him SO much; tell him if I live, and if—" (she would have said, supposing her hus band was not alive, but she could not frame the words)—"l will ropav him with my utmost love and service; but just now, I can only think of Matthew."

On the evening of Mr Signet's visit, the, three had a long talk together over' Matthew's case. Mr Barlow, o? couredhad seen the s :cond newspaper paragraph, and brought it home with him. He ascribed it to the mere spirit of news paper opposition; that since one journal had taken sides wi'h Lady Pargiter, its rival leant towcrds Mr Signet's view of the case.

"I don't think the man himself could have written it," he said ; "it is not suffi ciently egotistic : he could have never kept Star and Signet out of it for so many lines."

" We understood from Mr Signet's man ner to-day," said Amy, using the plural by design, '• that he had, at all events, in stigated the paragraph." "Instigated!" cried.Uncle Stephen; "it's hii own! I could swear to it as though I had seen his handwriting. That mins coiueia rccti of his betrays him " " It U not badly composed, however, for the purpose for which it is intended," re marked Mr Barlow, who had seen nothing inappropriate in the quotation. "As a de fence of Matthew's moral character it is of course contemptible, but it is likely enough to make L'idy Pargiter show her hand." Uncle Stephen was about to speak, but altered his mind.

"You mean to say there will be a law suit," inquired Amy. "Yes, my dear ; Mr Signet, as I under stand, h resolved, supposing the waiting maid's evidence to be trustworthy, to fight it out."

" I did not like to mention it to him this morning," said Amy, 'because it might look as if we thought he was not doing his best; but why does not Mr Signet oft'er a reward for the recovery of the jewels ? That would surely help us." "Very likely," observed Mr Barlow cynically: "but the question he puts to himself is, will it help Mini His present object is to pretend the loss of the jewels is no business of his, and whoever first offers the reward will appear to make it his busi ness."

" Why should not we offer a reward for Matthew ?" said Uncle Stephen. " That's our business surely."

"I have thought of that of course," re plied Mr Barlow, with a pitying air. " But looking at the matter all round, I think we had better not do that—at least,at present. The Police—all constituted authorities, in fact—are doing their best to elucidate the affair; and an offer oL reward would only call more attentiou to it—which is far from desirable."

"Why?" inquired Amy. . . " Well, really, my dear, you astonish me by such a question, Is not your poor brother-in-law's name bandied about already sufficiently ? And yet, you may be sure, these paragraphs are but the begin ning of things. If yon heard.as 1 do, what is said in every omnibus and railway car riage " " I should not care what I heard," inter rupted Amy, " if only more publicity could assist us in finding Matthew. What is the opinion of the whole world to Sabey—who, is the person we have alone to consider in this matter—compared with that ?" "That sort of publicity could not assist us, Amy," said Mr Barlow; he spoke quietly, without the least trace of irritation, but his face showed a rising colour. "I think—not immediately perhaps, but very shortly—Sabey ought herself to be coosultcd in the matter," observed Uncle Stephen. " She is, as Amy says, our first consideration ; and no inconvenience or dis tress of mind to anyone—to ourselves, for example—ought to prevent our leaving a stone unturned."

" You will of course, act, Sir Durham, as you think proper," replied the lawyer. Nothing more, for the moment, was said on this point; but when Amy had with drawn to join her sister, "I hope," said Mr Barlow, " you did not suppose tbat it was with any reference to myself—that is, with respect to the reputation of the family with which I am about to be connected—that I opposed any reward being offered with regard to Matthew ?" " "\Vell,to say the truth,Barlow,l thought that might have weighed with you." " I think it did not—l hope it did not.Mr Durham. But I confess I object to our taking any action which may be supposed to be in common with Mr Signet. He is in my opinion pursuing a most unwarrantable and unscrupulous course. He knows that Lady Pargiter has no more possession of those diamonds than I have."

" I certainly think it very improbable," mused Mr Durham.

"Improbable? It is impossible. The notion that the woman should have stolen lior own jewels is monstrous. As to the receipt—it may have been destroyed by accident; that matters not to us one fig.

The question for us is not where the jewels are, but where is Matthew ?'* "And what i» your view!" " I believe John Rutherford corM tell ng ;;{, all, if he chose. He has' tiumpedl Hp tliat .' story about having left his fare it? Moor Street. I dout believe one word of it.'* : " Then you must needs believe he has murdered him ?" " I hope for the bost,and in God's mercy Mr Durham ; but that is my coaviciiod * answered Mr Barlow gravely. "Therein "r no other way out of it." " There are plenty of ways out of it, my ", (I I dear sir. if we had but the wit to see them'" returned Uncle Stephen. " From all I can gather, the cabman is an honest fellow and" —which weigh* with me still more-he was - personally attached to Matthew. A*mu • may murder a stranger for money, or*evea a blood relation whom he does notjoye-'' but not his friend. Sabey has been Wd fo '■■• .' Rutherford's wife, and lie has shown ifo; ■■ -~■• self sensible of it. He must have liadlioth gratitude and liking to contend agiang^ - We are presupposing a monstrosity in ha. putting nlurder, under such circumstances : to such a man. Besides, he hai had sedteg ' of opportunities before this one.'1 " Yes ; but this was the last chance, and he knew it. That someone has done it ig mgrally certain. Do you prefer to thtofc Lady Pargiter the murderess." ; "Don't let us lise euch words, Mr Bar low, till they have been justified by the event," said Uncle Stephen reprovingly. I "D> you think Matthew would usve^ parted with those jewels, then, and kept I his life ?" "Mr Barlow," returned Uncle Stephen,' " I know Matthew Helston better than yon. do, and certainly'rcspeot him as much. Of ■ ' course I do not tkink that" "Then, iv my opinion, all that we have- : to hope for is this—that, since the robbery ;■ must in all probability have been com- ! mitted by several persons, in time they will quarrel among themselves, and Matthew's, memory will be cleared of stain " , ;. "That does not follow," said Uncle: ■' Stephen. " When M. d'Angladc wasin i Erison, where he died, after the torture; for , is supposed robbery of the Count de- Montgomery.'.it is on record that the whole - \ body of Paris thieves' were cognisant that two of their number—Belestre and Gag nard—were the real culprits." ■' \ •■:. "Then it appears that you arc afore hope- f\ less respecting this terrible affair than even I am." " No; I cannot say lam without hope," answered Uncle Stephen thoughtfully. J. ■ have lived too long in the world not to - know how expectation is baulked, eyen, though it be of misfortune." " But you feel certain that the diamonds » have been stolen ?" •'■■• l;'i ~ Mr Durham hesitated; held his chin ia his hand, as was his habit when flunking ■ deeply; and then slowly replied r'.'Yig; v we must suppose them to have been utoto."" | " Then Matthew, as you agreed with me, cannot be alive?" "I did not say that, Barlow;:in my opinion, he would not have parted witu." '..'■ I what was entrusted to him, save with Ms I life. But they might have been forced ; \ from him. This affair is not one of alter* natives—that is the view of the police, no ' ' j| doubt; but it is much too shallow and narrow. Ten thousand things may have taken place where one tiling does take place. lam inclined to think that in this ' case something very abnormal, and out of p , the policemans beat has happetfwL* 'To Sabey and Amy—oear souls—l mayhave appeared indifferent : I did not wist to melt their waxen hearts by too much show of sympathy ; but nieht and day, of late, I ' have thought of nothing but Matthew." " Then you have a theory to acconM tor hu disappearance ?" exclaimed Mr; Bsriow eagerly. He would have called his com panion "a very bad man of business!',.,•• meaning! a 'dreamer"), but he had a genuine admiration for his abilities i and he thought it quite possible tiiat, where. practical minds were at fault, his iogenuiiy might supply a clue. I j! " Well, yes, I have. It seems wild ; en«ugh, but then the whole affair- is wild,; > ' and similia sinrilibus mtrantw; as Mr Sig net would say. And, again, it ia nbt atose 4 water solution of the enigma; one'cannot object to it that it makes things too plea-1 . sant. Still, it's better than murder or robbery." "If your explanation avoids thc?e two horns of the dilemma, it must be worth j. hearing," said Mr Barlow. • " Turn the key in the door, will yon V continued Uncle Stephen. "I should not like even Amy to come in just now. I ■ feel that I couW not pull myself together in a moment." The old man's face indeed showed a pain that was distressing to be-:" hold, and his voice was feeble andproken. " You must excuse me, fir," he said, with a certain dignity, " but this lad is dear to * me as the apple of my eye. Whatever I tell you now—whether it turns out to be the fact or otherwise—l must have your promise that it will be kept secret." ■ "Youmay trust me, Mr Durham: I shall regard you as[a client in coniultation. A smile flitted across Uncle Stephen's face, but only to leave it graver than fcsfore. " I have noticed for some time," ho said, I it, " a certain depression in Matthew; he hns always been quiet and even depressed, you .1 h will say, since you have^knownnim— though": I. > I remember him, just after his marriage, poor fellow, full ofhope and joy; but of 1 fate his melancholy has deepened. It has seemed to me as though he were always S making an effort to throw off some monopo-'' I lising thought Has that struck you, Mr Batlow V • }\ The lawyer shook his head. " No : I have not noticed any deeper de pression. He always seemed to me a dis appointed man, and, if I may say so with out offence, to have entertained, somewhat ; | weakly, a sort of grudge against the general arrangements of the world in consequence. •; I am speaking very plainly." ' " No matter, sir; if ever there was a time ,■■■. for plain speech, it has come no\v,' returned Uncle Stephen. "As"to"the 'grudge, I have-noticed that too, but only quite re cently. His talk to-nie of Me has been vehement against the unjust distribution of ,'B ■ wealth, md of the hars:hness engendered by | habits of luxury. 1 thought nothing of that; it is a poor man's privilege; anl to . -w one with Matthew's gifts and sense onus- ■ X tice, many tilings must have seemed nartt. $ But, within the last few weeks, his preju dices have taken a more personal direction. The dislike he expressed for Lndy WBftf —who seems to be a most contpmptibie ,| * woman—was quite unworthy of him, ano , | curiously enough' this seemed to extendl to ■ her inanimate possessions—l refer to ti» diamonds." * - The lawyer bowed his head; he was at tentive enough to what his companion saw, • \ut had no notion whither he was driving. " The diamonds, you see," continued Uncle Stephen, with the air of one wn» talks and reflects at the same time, ' n»TO, been the immediate cause of much mcoa- * venience and worry to him; they took mm from his home of nights, and exposejnum . to humiliations, and—as I have since learnt , m < —even to insults. How stra»gc it ssems | that a few sparkling stones* which oniy ! served to ■.nake more hideous the womau that owned them, should be the cause 01.. such trouble; stones that might have been turned to bread, or, in worthier hands na»e, realised the dieama of science I" • . ■ : ■

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, APRIL 22 : 1882

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