THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, AUGUST 20, 1897.

(SUPPLEMENT.

MARION'S UNCLE.

ACASBr°BTHI!I)I!TEOTIVES'

}?y SYLVANUS COBB, Jun.

CHAPTER 1

jHS BASK** AND HIS CONFIDENTIAL CLERK. VAimsw Wilmot was a banker, doing an «Uve business in one of the largest and cities on the Atlantic sea. hnard of our Union. On Saturday evening, May 7th, 1864, the hankersat in his private office-his sanctum, h e called it -engaged in collecting and filing important papers. At least, the care he be stowed upon them, his eagerness in compar and proving, and the glow of satisfaction u ma finding balances as he would have them-if these signs could mean anything, they mK.nb that the papers which were then passing under his hands were of the utmost iDiijortance. Matthew Wilmot was a good-looking Jn ""d many would have called him Ssome. He was forty-five years of age ; $"medium height; his form graceful and manly, and finely proportioned, his frame Sfal his dark brown hair neatly Kmmcd and his really handsome face Bnoothly shaved. He had never worn a beard. In his younger days lie had been an Mtor-one of the most popular, m fact, on the American stage. Added to & voice rich in nualitv, powerful in volume, and wonder fully flexible, was a peculiar conformation Ll exceeding mobility of face, which en abled him to giva to the very life any character which he might see fife to as sume. , , ~ He had long ago forsaken the stage ; but lie had not forgotten how to entertain his friends, on proper occasions, by his wonderful impersonations. No evening barfcy—no symposium of his class could Adeemed complete if Matt. Wilmot were absent; and, further, he seemed to enjoy te much in thus labouring for the enter- of his friends as they could enjoy tn seising and listening. We speak of this charccteristic of the man by way of show ing how it was that he had become so \vsei.y known and so universally esteemed asd beloved* Matthew Wilmot had spent fifteen years bf hi» Itfe behind the footlights, having en tawlnpon the actor's profession at the age rf eighteen, and left it at the age of thirty and-three. ■ This important change iti his life had been brought about in the following runner: In his youth, and during his early man* Tiood, Matthew's nearest and dearest male friend-bis mate and his chum—had been William Vernon, a youth Very nearly of his own age, with tastes and sympathies as like as two peas in a pod. Among the first to be possessed by the fever consequent upon the discovery of gold in California had ten Wilfem Vernon ; and he had surren dered to it without hesitation. He left his Wera home in the autumn of 1848. poring the spring of 1852 he returned, Withy. The first thing Vernon did, after he had lately deposited his gold, on his return lime, was to hnnt up Matthew Wilmot, to vta he said: " Como, old fellow, you tae made up faces for the multitude long enough. How- lnuch money can you call ftiaf btmV "Ten dollars, I think," was tl'iffliot's answer. Bat he found, on over hauling his affairs,' that lie could call him? eetf the owner of more than a thousand.

"Hevermlnd," said Vernon; "I have tooney, mi you have a name known and rejected in every home, almost, in the land. j Will put my money in with your name, *4d, we will start a bank. ' Wilmot & X'moif, Bankers !' How does that sound ? .Don't laugh. lam in earnest, as you shall &d, if you will only give me your atten tion."^

'Matthew Wilmot gave his attention, a3 requested, the result of which was that, before the year was three months older, he had found himself a partner in a general banking business, with a capital of half a billion to sustain it, of which he had not contributed a dollar in money. And yet, at the end of the first year, William Vernon fainkly declared that his partner's name kd been the one grand cause of success. And in the years that followed, the virtue of the name did not grow less. It is easy to conceive why Matthew Wilmot," with Ma wonderful powers of amusing and en tertaining, should have been a prime favourite in the social world; and when ye declare that his business tact and in tegrity were of the very best and brightest, it may be as easily conceived why his mends Bhould have sought the help offered by tho bank.

%ht years Wilmot and Vernon were to gether in business, during which time For tune smiled upon them continuously ; and ™t, too, without what could be called a <^t frown. In 1860 William Vernon died, leaving his share of the. bank to his jrow. Ten thousand dollars in money he eitinWilmot's care for his nephew,.Walt er, who was serving in the bank as clerk. Water Fernon was an orphan, son of Williams elder brother, and, at the time of *fi uncle's death, eighteen years of ago. it $? W lafcer' "Pon reaching his major hll ot offered t0 him llis ten thousand ■ffi* 1* allnosb au°tner ten thousand ™* the little capital had been made to Z™,, 111,™ inker's thrifty hands ; but the JWfthnd preferred that it should all ro «mm the business, the probability being Ltv BOm,efuture l^riod' h° might step Jtohisunde'e shoes of partnership. Wil "Whajgiven him the pleasing hope. «» Vernon remained a widow not quite ff fnff h 3Pfin* of 1863 Bhe B«tJ» BeC°nd hUSband an EnSlish Sir 111-, T d durin S fche following E* with him for the old country" Sav^rf «' alle? Upon t0 make UP the last 2hh!^ c Share of 'his late partner, Sty J^PTOMPtty. and without dif- S'ofi nd? v? didhe become sole terej. the ba&k and its manifold mi- S, thou g ht-and it had every t-»»tothu.k_that Matthew Wilmot >Perou 3 - exceedingly prosperous. tTj^io\^y His X™ 11110" of dollars would have £ aba"y L bank « the city with- Uhet^ ewelookin UP™ had L d pasfd since'the widbVs hWdS had 46 wumS Wi ad r re than raade «P tt*S^«i y ver,dl:awll out- And at fcrhu»«llsth ht!iad said>"H y°n j°in y°i« ---£° ar 'hole stStht e rtmati °n > Sive ,overnwent ™n& th t° the support of our S Kiti™,;? ldljn ™ I stand or aho «c afraid oftL v ?° me there aro h- Ever^S^^lamnotoneof t* So in that n P°Bsibly BP a«> S?'- 88 °°rPml \ b** in the m hosprtal at Harris.

burg through along and weary siclinoss ; and hail finally come home to get wel under the gentle nursing of an angel, ot whom mere anon. The youth was well now. and would have offered his services again, but the banker could nob spare him "My dear boy, believe me," Wilmot had said, " you will do a better service to your country here in the bank than you could possibly do in the field. While this war lasts you must help me to furnish the

sinews."

The last rays of the setting sun were gilding the tall spires and domea of tlie bustling city as Matthew Wilmot leaned back from his work. Tho last paper had been examined and proved; the whole fathered up and secured by a broad elastic bund; and then neatly enveloped m a wrapper of tine manilla paper, and bound with a strong cord. Then he took a pen and wrote upon the face of the paoket a name, after which lie deposited it in one oi the drawers of the lower part of his desk. This done, lie bent his head for a few moments in thought; then arose from his seat and took several turns to and fro across the room. When he finally stopped, his teeth were tightly shut, his lips com pressed, and his strong hands hrrnly clenched, as one might do who had taken to himself astern and momentous resolu tion. Ten seconds perhaps more —he stood time, gazing into vacancy ; then the fceuse muscles were relaxed ; and having resumed his seat, he touched the button of an electric bell, giving it two distinct pressures. Tlie summons was speedily answered by his confidential clerk.

As this clerk has an important part to perform in the strange drama we have to record, he de-serves a particular introduc tion.

Jasper Renwick was his name ; his age, as he gave it, five-.and-thirty, but he looked older. He would have been somewhat above the medium height had his form been erect, which it was not. He had a stoop of the broad, massive shoulders, that gave him the appearance, almost, of a hunchback. His arms were so long that when standing as upright as his bent shoulders would allow, the ends of his lingers reached two or three inches below Kis kiibe's'i <#md those fingers, when the hands were in motion, were not unlike the talons of a vulture. His legs were long and ill-shaped, with a tendency to bend in ward at the knees. The whole frame, saving only the should era, was spare and bony.° The head, at front-view, wan bal loon-shaped - a large brain with narrow jaws. The ears and the nose were the most prominent features, the former being almost asinine; the latter closely resem bling the beak of a vulture. His hair was straight and sleek, of a cl'Oigyi yellow colour, and so thin on the top, from the forehead to the crown, as to give the ap pearance of baldness. Only the man who had furnished it could have told how much patent hair restorative had been persistently placed on that barren poll. His eye 3 were small, and deeply set beneath the project ing brows ; their colour being nearer to a dark green than anything else. In fact, there were those of his acquaintance who did not hesitate to speak of him as " the Green-Eyed Monster."

Jasper Renwick could not be called a handsome man ; but despite his ugliness, there was in the sinister face a look of intellectuality that lifted it above the com mon herd. Ke was one of the best account ants of his day and generation. His induc tion into his present office had come to pass in a peculiar manner. Left to his own free will and choice, Mat thew Wilmot would have sooner engaged the services of a native Hottentot in his bank thair the services of that man ; but he had no choice in the matter. It had. come about thus:

Once upon a time, in the ragged fast nesses of the Sieiras of California, whither he had gone in quest of gold, the life of William Vemon lad been in peril. But for instant help he must have perished, and that, too. in a manner most horrible. In thafc supreme moment the needed help had come in the person of Jasper Renwick, until then to Vernon an. utter stranger. William Vernon, as we know, was a great hearted man, with warjn arid generous impulses ; and when he had learned that Jasper Renwick was poor and unfortunate he not only took him under his care, but swore to him, then and there, in words like these: "While I live, and have a crust, you shall share it with me if you will."

And from that day the two had never parted until death came between them. It had so happened that the time had never been, from the moment of the saving of Vernon's life in the wild Sierras to the day of his death, when it had not been for Jasper Renwiok'a .interest to act squarely and honestly towards his employer. As a result, William Vernon had lived and died believ ing that the confidential clerk of the bank - which post Renwick had occupied from the beginning was as honest a man, and as true, as ever lived ; and he had obtained from his partner, almost with his dying breath, a promise that he would retain him in the position he had to that time held in the bank while his (Vernon's) widow kept her interest in the business. After that he could, of course, do as he pleased.

One thing further William Vernon had said, in words as follows :

" If, afc any future period, you should admit my nephew Walter to the partner ship with yourself, you two will do with Renwick as you shall see fib. Beyond that I have no favour to ask . for anyone, saving only to bespeak your continued helpnes3 towards my wife." After a little pause, and after drinking a swallow of cordial, Yernon added: "Matt., if you can make it in your way, I wish you would try to persuade Walter to give over his foolish prejudice against Renwick. There is no sense in it. It is the only fault I ever found in the boy's life. In every other respect he is nobility itself. Get him to make friends with Jasper if you can."

It was a hard place for Matthew Wilmot. Had he spoken to his dying partner as he in his heart firmly believed, he would have said ; " My dear Vernon, it is you who are prejudiced. Your man Renwick is, by nature, an unmitigated scamp. If he has been outwardly honest thus far, it has been simply because it has been for his interest so to be, and I shall try to cmtinue to him the inducement." But he would not, for the world, have so hurt his old friend's feelings; so he wisely held his peace, leaving the other to draw his own deduc tion.

The banker looked up as his chief clerk entered with something like a shadow of, pain on his genial, honest face; bv.fc it quickly passed away, and he spokenaturally and pleasantly, though a close observer might have detected that the appearance of frankness oosfc him an effort.

" How is your work, Renwick?" " The work of the week is all brought up, sir ; and everything is fair and square." The clerk spoke promptly, but modestly, and in a low tone of voice. And that voice was peculiar. It was very soft, very oily, and under perfect control. He never spoke loudly ; never spoke angrily. His polite ness was unvarying. Even to Walter Vernon, who, ho very well knew, disliked and distrusted him, he was kindness and suavity itself, at least so far as the outer senses could perceive. The banker thanked the man for his in formation, and then asked :

" What is the exact amount of gold we have on hand ?"

" Eight thousand five hundred, and a few dollars over "

" What was the quotation in New York to-day?"

" The highest yet, 6ir —one-seventy- four."

"That is higjfi, but itwill go much higher. In short, it will go up and up until Grant wwies Bichmoud,"

"If he ever reaches it," ventured the clerk, dubiously. " Never fear,"returned Wilmot, withanas suring nod. "But," he added, thoughtfully, "it must be some time hence. I shall buy fifty thousand on Monday. You may bear that in mind. That is all there is, I believe, of business for the present. And now, Mr Renwick I have a curious question to ask you, and let me hope that you will answer me frankly and truthfully. I saw you, this morning, in conversation with my physician—Doctor Vanwert. You asked him what he thought of my health, did you not?'

"Not exactly that, sir. I asked him if he really thought you sick." "What was his answer? Do not fear to tell me."

"He said, sir, that your close attention to business since the death of your partner —so much work without relaxation of any kind—has somewhat broken you ; but if you would follow his advice to the letter — if you would take fin's medicine exactly as he prescribed Jit, and rcgulite your di.t as he has recommended - there could be no reason why you should not come round all right in a very few weeks. He seemed to have great faith in his medicine."

"Was that all?" " He said you should, by ail mean?, take a vacation during1 the eorring summer." " Aha !" laughed the banker, throwing his head back, and seeming to look straight up at the ceiling —" that; I shall be able to do without fear of mistake or mishap in my absence. Walter, when once the responsi bility is upon him, will quickly make him self master of the situation." He had seemed to look afc the ceiling, but from a corner of his right eye he had kept a keen glance upon hi? confidential clerk, and he had seen a look-a look that shot like lightning over every feature— as full of hate and malevolence as human look could be.

" And that reminds me," Wilmot added, after a little pause, looking now into a face that had become as innocently bland as the face of an infant, " before I invest heavily in gold I must consult with young Vernon. As he is coming in bo soon he has a right to a voice in the matter. At all events, he has a right to know what are my plans." A brief silence fell at this point, during which Remviok appeared to bo deeply en gaged with his own thoughts. At length he spoke : " Mr Wilmot, I would like to ask you a question. I have a little money of my own, and I think I know where I can place my hand upon a goodly sum of gold that can be bought. How high do you think it can reach in price before there can come a fall V

The banker reflected for a little time ; then looked up, and spoke steadily and frankly, with the assurance of a master :

'•Renwick, I have made a study of the thing, and 1 can plainly see what I will tell you. Between now and the ending of the coming summer this country is to be ex cited as it has never been, and that excite ment is to be deep and all-pervading. Within three months from this day gold will be worth, in our currency, more than two dollars for one -considerably more."

"It cannot be possible, sir!" exclaimed the clerk, in blank astonishment. "Do you really believe it ?" "I wiil stake my reputation upon the result," was Wilmot's calm response.*

"Would you be willing to warrant me that it will reach two hundred ?"

" Yes, sir," answered the banker, with an emphatic thump of his fist upon the top of his desk.

The clerk made no further remark. Having waited a few moments to see if his employer had more to say, he turned quickly and left the room, striding away as though he was bent upon business that admitted of no delay.

Not more than a minute had elapsed after the departure 'of Jasper Ron wick when the Banker's door was again opened, this time giving entrace to a visitor as un like him who had just gone as the light of noonday is unlike pitchy darkness.

CHAPTER 11.

THE TINY THIAL. It was what the banker had often called " A thing of beauty, and a joy for ever,"— the presence, we mean, that had entered his sanctum. It was his daughter, and only child, Marion. She was nineteen years of age ; just the height of Canova's Venus Victorious ; her form full and perfect, her hair a dark, rich brown, her eyes a pure golden hazel, full of loving truthful light. Her face was beautiful—beautiful not only to the outer sense, but a mirror of beauty within. She was a healthy, happy, laughter loving girl; strong in her attachments, and true as the needle to the pole, and she loved her father with all her heart and all her soul,—and all the strength of her strong and truthful nature. The love of a mother she had scarcely knowu, having lost her while in her earliest childhood. She could remember her, and that was all; yet the memory, slight though it was, was very pleasant—the memory of a sweet angelic face, and of a voice of melody that she could liken only to the music of heaven. She had inherited not only her mother's beauty, but abo her sweet voice of song. Had her father remained on the stage, the probabili ties are that ere this she would have be come a star of the fir^t magnitude of the profession. She was a singer of surpassing skill and power, and a born actress. Once, on an oc casion when a voluntary entertainment had been given in aid of a benevolent object, her father had consented that she might appear in opera, and in a leading role. Suffice it to say, she "took the house by storm," and then and there she received from one of the foremost managers of the country an offer for her services that might have flattered an established prima donna. But she had no desire for further applause, and surely she was not in pecuniary need. So at least one brilliant star was lost to the operatic firma ment, but not lost to society. When among her friends, and called upon to give her share to the entertainment of the com pany, she never refused to respond, and be sure her response was always in her hap piest mood and manner. So none will wonder when we say that wherever Marion Wilmot was known she was loved and honoured, and in her own set and circle of the social world it is not too much to say that she was the one favourite above all others.

And yet she did not excite any jealousy. She was so good, so loving, and so kind ; so full of ready sympathy and practical benevo lence ; and so quick to recognise all thatwas good and beautiful in others, that no one who knew her could be jealous of her. In all her life—saving only the loss of her mother—she had not known a deep sorrow. More than once she had told her father, in her happy mood, that sorrow could not find her. Ah.! it was coming -it was coniiug; she could not dream how near it was. Already a shadow had fallen across her path—her " black beast," she called it; —she had met it, on her way to her father's presence, but a moment since, and a reflex of the ehadow was on her beautiful face even now.

The girl's first movement on entering the room was to spring forward, and throw her arms around her father's neck, and kisa him on both cheeks. Then she started back, and with an indignant light flashing in her golden eyes, she exclaimed : " Papa ! 0 ! papa ! you must send that man away ! Promise me that you will do

*And be was right. The average currency price of gold for the month of July, 18G4, was, for li Odols, in po d 258d015. in currency or green backs. According to the officially published quotations of the gold market in New York the currency price of lOOdols. gold reaohed its maximum on the Uth day of the said July, the quotations for that day ranging from 27Cdols to

so. If you knew how the very sight of him makes me fear and quake, you would not keep him another hour. And, you dear old soul," she went on, moving forward again, and laying a hand on her father's shoulder, "do yon know, I fear for you. 0 ! I have seen him look at you with a look that was perfectly horrible. And I know he hates Walter. You will send him away, won't you ?" " You arc speaking of Renwick?" said the banker, at the same time handing his daughter to a seat close by him. "Of course. Of whom else could I have said so much ?"

"My blessed child," taking one of her hands in both his own, " you are trembling. You have been frightened. What is it ?"

" Dear papa," the quivering girl fairly gasped, the tears starting from her eyes as she spoke, " I have never cared to worry you with it; I had hoped the wretch would see that I could not endure him, and that his own good sense would lead him to leave me in peace. But he will not see. Or, if he sees, he will not take heed." " Marion !" the banker cried, with a startled expression, '' has the man dared to—to -"

" To make love to me !" she added, as her father hesitated. " Yes, papa,—that is what he has done. He lias spoken boldly. He has asked me if Ido not think I could give him a little corner in my heart and to-day—as I met him a moment ago — he offered to kiss me ! 0 ! it was dread ful ! It is a wonder that I did not strike him. I suppose I was too frightened to think of it: for, really, papa, the man's look did truly frighten me." " My darling, you shall not bo troubled with him much longer," said the loving father, still holding her hand. " How long has he been such a terror to you ?"

" Truly, papa, ho has been a terror to me longer than lean tell, —more than a year. lam sure. It was certainly more than a year ago that he first took occasion to in form me that my beauty had made a slave of him ; and since that time he has never failed to whisper of his tender love when opportunity has offered." "I wish I had known it at the time, Marion."

"I didn't want to bother you with it. And, further, I was afraid, if I spoke of it, that Walter would iind it out. That would have ir.ade trouble at once. But you know it now, you dear old papa, and you can got rid of him as soon as you please." "It must be a few weeks first, my dar ling. On the twentieth of thispresentmonth Walter is to become my partner, if we are both living at that time; and then —or before then—l shall send Jasper Renwick away ; and he knows very well that he is going. And now, Marion, let us forget this for a time. Until tho fellow leaves the bank you need not come near him. That will be the best way,—simply to avoid him. You can do that ':"

" Ye 3 ; I can do that."

" You can certainly do ifc if I am not to be here."

" You not be here ! Papa ! what do you mean by that ? Are you going away ? Is that what made you look so blue and down cast lately . " Marion ! Have I looked like that ?"

" Indeed you have. Ah, you dear, good old soul ! do you think you could mope or sigh, and bury yourself in your own thoughts, as you have for the last week, at least, and I not see it ? No, no. I have seen it very plainly. I have not spoken to you because I would not add to your trouble."

"Trouble? What made you think I was in trouble ?"

" Walter told me. But, papa, you must not blame him. I spoke first. I urged him to tell me what ailed you ; and he told me."

" And what was it he told ?"

" That your business was too heavy for you ; and he said that it sometimes per plexed yon. He thought you had done more for the Government than you ought to have done — more, he thought, than you were really able to do. But, papa, you won't blame him ; and you won't let him know that I told you ?"

" I will not speak of it, darling." "And now, what is all this going away about ? Are you going away from home ? Are you going to Washington again ?" "I may have to go there before I finish my business ; but, my blessed child, ex actly which way I shall first go I cannot tell. Perhaps I shall know to-morrow." •' You won't be gone a great while ?" " I hope not. All I can promise is I will come back to you just as quickty as I can. And now, Marion, you must give me your attention. lam glad you have spoken to me of Jasper Renwick, a3 it will make it easier for me to say to you what I have to say. Do yon remember my brother—your Uncle Stephen ?" " I can remember him, papa, and that is all. He is older than you are."

<: Yes—ten years older. He is living on the old homestead at Berryville. Do you not remember how kind and loving he was ? You have the little gold bracelet he bought for you." " 0 ! I remember I" the girl cried, im pulsively. " Yes. he was very good to me, and I loved him. I remember, now, how he used to carry me on his shoulder."

" Well, I have written to Uncle Stephen, and I think he will be here very shortly,— perhaps to-morrow ; but, darling", it is not impossible that I may have to leave before he comes. To provide for that lam going to place in your hands a packet which you are to deliver to him." Thus speaking, the banker opened the drawer and took out the packet which we saw him place therein. It was very neatly and compactly done up, and the name he had written upon it was the name of his brother Stephen.

"There," he said, as he gave it into his daughter's hands, " you will care for this as you would for your very life. You have a safe pocket in your dress ?"

" Yes."

"Put ifythere, and cany it home. I shall not see it again. You will keep it until your Uncle Stephen comes, and you will give it into his own hands when no one else is near to see. Will you do this ?"

" But, papa, why don't you keep it until you go ? Why do you give it to me now ?"

" Darling, it would be a long story to tell; but I can tell you enough to satisfy you. Listen: Jasper Renwick must not know what has become of these papers; and, further, I must be able to declare upon my honour that I have not taken them from the bank. Is not that sufficient ?"

" Yes, papa. And Twill -be very careful of them. I. sha.ll feel myself quite im portant. Are they very valuable—these papers?" "Yes. You carry a small fortune while you have that packet on your person. You can lock it up in one of your private drawers until your uncle comes. You will not speak of it to Walter ?" " Certainly not. I shall remember ex actiy what you have told me. You need have no fear."

'' I have none, my precious child. There, it is about time that you were thinking of home." He kissed her as he spoke, drawing her to his bosom, and holding her there most lovingly. " Won't you go with me, papa ? " I wish I could ; but I have much yet to do. There. Now away you go. I must hurry with my work." " 0 ! dear—dear papa ! if you would only take a good, long rest. It is only work, work, work. When will you ever— " " Hush, my blessed child, It is for a good, long rest I am working now. As soon as Walter comes in to share tho re sponsibility I promise your I will rest." "0 ! that will be good, How glad lam that you will owe you rest to Walter," "By the way, Marion,-' said the banker, with a new expression upon bis mobile face,

1 has Arthur Singleton ever spoken to you of love?"

" 0 ! papa !~Poor Arthur ! He is a dear, good friend, and as a brother I could love him with all my heart; but I never could love him as I love Walter. Yet, I fear he loves me too well. But it is not my fault. I never, never gave him any reason to think that I could love him."

" Has he spoken lately ?" "No ; but I think he wants to ; and I suppose he will. I dread it. Still, I can but tell him the truth. He surely cannot blame me. , Oh!" the girl cried after a moment's pause, a smile breaking round the ruby lips, and in the dancing light of the eyes, "what a funny thing it j s _ Your three clerks all in love with me ! I haven't the least doubt that Renwick really thinks ho love 3 me. Dear ! dear ! and I can only love one of them. Well, I must be true to Walter, and let the others find comfort elsewhere. They will do it in time."

Marion gave her father another kiss, and turned towards the door. On the threshold she stopped and looked back. " What time will you be at home, papa ?" " I can't tell yon, darling. You will see me when I come. Look out for the packet."

" Never fear. Come as soon as you can." She threw him a kiss from the ends of her fingers, and in a moment more she was gone, and the door had been closed behind he/.

The banker gazed upon the spot where she had last appeared until the sound of her light footfall had died away j then he bent his head upon his two hands, and so sat for the space of a minute or more. By-and-by he arose and stood erect. Once more his teeth were tightly shut, his hands clenched, and every muscle drawn to its utmost ten sion.

" The villain ! The villain !" he mut tered, in a hushed, soul-sent whisper. ■'But I will circumvent him. It is hard — very, very hard. It will be terrible to her, sweet child : but she can bear it. Aye, she can bear it much more easily than I can bear what I plainly see before me. And even that would fall upon her. Courage, courage, my blessed child. Uncle Stephen will care for you ; and Walter will be at hand to give you comfort." ITe stood for a little time after be had ceased speaking, with lm eyes bent to the floor;, then he went and looked forth into the outer ofiice—into the main banking room—where he found all hushed and quiet, and almost dark. One solitary gas jet was aflame, but turned down to a ghostly glim mer, and all the others were turned ofT entirely. The clerics had gone to their supper's, and not more than one or two of them would return. It was Saturday even ing, and the business of the week was at an end.

Wilmot went back to his private room. He made sure that his door was securely latched. Then he drew the curtains over the two windows, then stood once more and gave himself up to thought ; but not for long. His next movement was that of a man who had decided upon his course.

In a corner of his room was a small closet, on one side of which were hooks for clothing and on the other side, and on the back, were shelves. From one of the shelves he took a small bottle—or it might be called a large phial—and a small wine-glass, and carried them to his desk. He then turned on and lighted the gas of the powerful burner by which ho usually read and wrot ■, and placed over it a paper shade that threw the glare downward. This done, he removed the stopper from the phial, and poured a small quantity of the liquid it contained into the glass.

This liquid had a reddish colour, and was not quite so limpid a,? pure water. His next movement was to take from his pocket his note-book, from between the leaves of which he drew a strip of blue paper, and, an end of this paper he dipped into the liquid in the glass. - The effect was quickly visible. That portion of the paper that had come in con tact with the contents of the glass changed from blue to a dull, dingy red, not ko em phatic as might have been under the action of a powerful acid ; but it was sufficient for the test which the banker had in mind.

The next movement was to unlock a drawer of the desk at which he sat, and take thence an empty phial, into which he carefully decanted the contents of that which he had brought from the closet. Then he tightly corked the phial thus filled, and took the further precaution of adding a seal of wax, after which he re stored it to the drawer whence he had taken it; then locked it up. The phial which he had emptied—that which had come from the closet —he set upon the back part of his desk, and there he left it.

At this point he rested, perhaps a full minute—rested and reflected. His right hand was pressed hard upon his brow; and his lips he tightly compressed, as does a man who is thinking with all his might. Finally he started up and consulted his watch. Then he arose and walked thrice to and fro across the room. He stopped at his desk and took from the pocket of his vest a tiny package or roll of paper, upon opening which he found one of those exceedingly small phials such as druggists use for the dispensing of powerful medicinal tinctures and extracts ; and in it were perhaps thirty drops of a limpid, colourless liquid. This he emptied into a clean wineglass, and to it added little more than three times as much water.

Here he paused a moment and considered. The result of his consideration was that he went once more to his closet) and brought out a bottle of sherry wine. Then—stand ing—he raised the glass to his lips -- held it there three or four seconds—and then drank it. Then he filled the glass with wine, and drank that. He replaced the cork in the bottle, and set that and the glass back on bis desk, by the side of the empty phial —the larger one. The tiny thing from which he had poured the half dram of colourless liquid he threw into the open grate, amongst the cinders. Matthew Wilmot cast a sweeping glance over the room ; then extinguished the flame over his desk, and turned down that of the wall-bracket until objects around him were simply discernible. This done, he went to the large, handsome sofa that stood against one of the , walls, occupying nearly the whole of that side of the apartment, and threw himself upon it. He moved once after he had lain down, and that was all. Beyond that the only sign of life that could have been there detected was from the watch in the pocket of his vest. That ticked on—tick—tick—tick - but the heart against which it rested gave no responsive throb.

An hour later there was a movement in the outer office. Walter Vernon had come —the Walter Vernon of whom we have heard so much. He was a handsome man ; within a few days of being two - and - twenty years of age ; tall and strong ; with brilliant^ grey eyes, and rich, curling brown hair; take him all in all, as fair and lovable a man, and as trusty, as you will find in a day's journey through your most populous metro polis. Walter had not been half a minute in the place before the door was again opened, to give entrance to Jasper Renwiek. " I wonder if Mr Wilrnot has gone," said the younger clerk, after the other had re moved his hat and hung it up. "I don't know," answered Renwick. " I left him in his sanctum when I went to supper. He may be there yet. And that reminds me : I have a question to ask him."

"So have I," added Vernon. And the two started for the inner room to gether. The light in the main office had been turned on, and a second jet had been lighted, so that a glare was thrown into the narrow entry-way between the two rooms, and into the room beyond, when the door was opened,. Vernon was

in advance. He knocked at the banker's private door, but received no response.

" I guess he has gone." " See if the door is unlocked."

The youth tried ifc, and it opened at his touch.

" He is not here," the latter said, when he had cast a glance upon the empty chair by the banker's desk. " I certainly understood him to say that he should remain until I came back," as serted Renwick, as the same timo pushing on past his companion. "Ho ! there he is asleep. Shall we arouse him ?" "]\o. Lot him rest. He needs it badly enough." " But—this is not like him. It is not his time for napping. I'm afraid —Hush! Listen ! Can you hear a breath ?" Vernon drew near and bent his ear. A moment so, and he drew nearer still; and presently a cry of alarm burst from his lips.

" Ren wick ! 0! heavens ! He does not breathe at all ?"

[To be Continued.)

EGYPT EXPLORATION FUND.

Discovery ot the Great Temple ol Bubastis.

It would be difficult to point to any group of mounds in Egypt which is seen by so many travellers and visited by so few as that of Tell Basta. These mounds are situated within a few hundred yards of the railway which connects Cairo with Ismailia, and are about half a mile distant from Zag azig station, the meeting point of three converging lines. All who are on their way to or from India via Cairo or Alexan dria pass that way ; and to all, unless they travel by night, the heights of Tell Basta are conspicuously visible. Lofty and rugged, their broken and blackened sum mits standingout against the clear Egyptian sky, they look like the wreck of a cluster of extinct volcanoes. They represent, how ever, the wreck of a once great and famous city — the Pi-Bast of ancient days, the Bubastis of the.Greek3, the Pi-Beseth of the Bible. Yet no one alights to visit those hi]la of crumbling ruin. " Murray's Guide' states tlmt there is nothing at Zaga zig to detain the passing traveller; and " Baedeker" says that the great temple des cribed by Herodotus as the most beautiful in Egypt has entirely disappeared. Six or eight weeks ago both " Murray" and " Baedeker" were correct; but they are correct no longer. M. Naville, whose excavations at Tell-el- Yahoodeh were described a short time back, has since then transferred the pick and spade of the Egypt Exploration Fund to the neglected rubbish-heaps of Tell Basta, where his exertions have been signally re warded by the recovery of some stupendous remains belonging to what must once have been one of the most magnificent edifices of Pharaonic Egypt. Attracted by the reported discovery of a group of tombs at or near his place, M. Naville, accompanied by Mr F. Llewellyn Naville, and subsequently joined by Count d'Hulst—both officers of the fund—shifted ins camp to Tell Basta about the middle of April. He had but one month left at his disposal, and nothing was farther from his intentions than to commence a great ex cavation. The tombs proved, however, to be a myth, and -with slight hope of finding anything important at a site Jjunsuccess fuliy attempted by the late Mariette Pasha —he decided to sink some pits in the bed of the great central depression which marks the area of the temple. The depression is distinctly quandrangular, and is hemmed in by heights composed of innumerable strata of brick buildings, thus exactly verifying the celebrated, description written three aud-twenty centuries* ago by Herodotus. The old historian says:— '* The temple stands in the middle of the city and is visible on all sides as- one walks around it, for as the city has been raised up by enbankment, while the temple has been left in its original condition, you look down upon it whereso ever you are. A long wall runs round the enclosure, having figures engraved upon it, and inside there is a grove of beautiful tall trees growing round the shrine which con tains the image of the goddess. The en closure is a furlong in length and the same in breath. The entrance to it is by a road paved with stone for a distance of aboat three furlongs, which passes straight through the market place with an easterly direction, and is about 400 feet in width. Trees of an extraordinary height grow on each side of the road which conducts from the Temple of Bubastis to that of Mercury." — (Book 11., chap. 138.)

Such was the great temple in the pleni tude of its prosperity; yet so completely had it vanished that arehieologists took its utter destruction for granted. The main features of the scene were, however, still traceable. The square hollow defines the temple area. A break in the continuity of the surrounding mounds marked the site of the gateway. The long line of the street leading from the temple of Bast to the temple of Thoth (identified by Herodotus with Mercury) was yet visible. Here and there lay a weather-worn block of granite, and yonder yawned the mouth of one of Mariette's deserted pits. To go to work in a small way upon so large and hopeless looking a site would be to court the same disappointment which befell Mariette. If anything remained to be found it must be sought over a considerable area and by plenty of seekers. So M. Naville beat up the neighbourhood of Zagazig for labourers, assembled a gang of 200 fellaheen, and attacked the quadrangular enclosure in three places at once. To his surprise and delight, the results were as immediate as they were unexpected. One excavation disclosed a number of superb monolithic columns and massive architraves, all of red granite, and all prostrate and broken. Another brought to light a wilderness of sculptured building blocks crowded with bas-relief groups and hieroglyphic inscrip tions. These also were of red granite. The columns bore the cartouches of Rameses 11. ; the blocks were engraved with the names and titles of Osorkon 11., of the 22nd Dynasty, who reigned some 380 years later.

As the work progressed, the ruins became more intelligible. The temple was oriented from east to wesb, and the place of columns proved to be the hypostyle hall. Beyond this, further to the westward, the pit of sculptured blocks represented a second great hall; while beyond this again, the third pit yielded constructions of a still later date, forming apparently the end of the temple. This part also was red granite ; and here was found the name of Nekhthorheb, who ruled about 480 years later still. Hereupon M. Naville concentrated his forces upon the two older spots, increased the strength of the little army of diggers, and tasked him self to clear as much as possible of the halls of Rameses and Osorkon. Soon he had 400 hands — working from sunrise to sunset, with only an hour and a-half's rest at mid day. Thus vigorously pushed, the excava tions made rapid progress. Fallen columns of the beautiful clustered lotus pattern with lotus-bud capitals, architraves em blazoned with royal insignia, heads, trunks and, limbs of colossal statues, some in groups of three together and spine in pairs, emerged from the grave in which they had lain, forgotten and mutilated, for unknown centuries. Each day revealed more and more monuments, and every monument was history. The lotus columns, though inscribed by Rameses 11., were of 12th Dynasty workmanship, and told the usual tale of usurpation, By-and-by, the name of Usertesen 111. turned up, thus carrying back the date of tho temple to the time of the first great Theban Empire ; and some days latter a still more important stone was found, inscribed with the cartouche and titles of Pepi Merira, of the 6th Dynasty-* ---one of the last pyramid-building "kings of the Ancient Empire, and founder O^.the earliest temple of Denderah.

Meanwhile it became evident that there were scarcely any statues in the hypostyle hall, but that the great hall of Osorkon, in which there were no columns, must have been crowded with groups and single figures. At the entrance lay two shattered colossi of Ramese 11. in black granite, wearing the crown of Upper Egypt. Some notion of their size may be gathered from the fact • that the eyes are 7 inches in length. Near these lay two smaller colossi of the same Pharaoh, the lower limbs shattered, but the upper halves uninjured ; to say nothing of two others in green granite, two in red granite, and several groups representing Rameses enthroned now with a god and now a goddess. The ostentation with which the Pharaoh of the Oppression multiplied his own image throughout the temples of Egypt is well known ; but nowhere, unless at Tunis, does he seem to have indulged his portrait mania more extensively than at Bubas tis.

Of greater historical interest, however, than theportraitstatues, are the sculptured blocks which lie piled in unimaginable confusion on the site of Osorkon's hall. These blocks lined the walls, and the bas-reliefs with which they are closely covered formed, when in situ, one huge tableau or perhaps two tableaux, representing a great festival given by the king, most probablyon his coronation day. Though cut up into as many sections as there are blocks, it is yet possible to gather something of the subject. Here were processions of priests bearing standards and offerings; other priests two and two, carrying shrines and sacred boats supported by long poles upon their shoulders, as wo may imagine the Israelites carrying the Ark of the Covenant. Osorkon, wearing some-

times the crown of Upper Egypt and sometimes the crown of Lower Egypt, occurs over and over again, generally with the cat-headed goddess, Bast, by his side. He offers incense and libations to various gods, or is himself worshipped as a deity by the priests. Occasionally he is seen with his queen, Karoama. Most curious of all are some subjects representing religious dances, or gymnastics, executed by the priests, some of whom make fantastic gestures, while others lie flat upon the ground. Nothing in tne least resembling this strange cere mony has previously been discovered upon the monuments. A fragmentary inscription, of which it is to be hoped the rest may yet be found, makes record of a festival" which akes places every fifty years." The historical results thus far go to prove that Osorkon 11., of whom little has hitherto been known, must have been the most powerful monarch of the Bubastit6 line ; but that the name of his father Shashank, the Biblical Shishak, who was not only the founder of the dynasty, bub who is supposed to have been a native of Bubastis, should not once have turned up, is both strange and perplexing. Like the great temple of Denderah, and perhaps also that of Tanis, the original sanctuary upon this spot would seem to have been founded by Pepi I. (6th Dynasty), whose place in history, according to Brugsch, is about 3,300 years before the Christian era. Ii) was probably rebuilt about 1.000 years later by Usertesen HI. (12th' Dynasty), again partly rebuilt, or much enlarged and enriched, a thousand years later still by Rameses 11. (19th Dynasty). Some 460 years after Rameses 11. it was taken in hand by Osorkon 11., who added the fes tive hall, and perhaps yet more buildings at the eastward end. Last of all, about B.c. 380, we find Nectanebo I. making ad ditions at the western extremity of the pile behind the Banctuary. The history of the temple may therefore be said to ex tend over a period of more than 3,200 years. M. Naville hopes to clear the whole site from end to end next season ; and it is to the Egypt Exploration Fund that travel lers wno go no further south than Cairo will henceforth be indebted for the oppor tunity of beholding a scene of such grafid ruins as are nowhere else accessible ■within an easy distance of the modern capital.— " Times," July Ist.

A Victim of Witchcraft.

The Court of Assize of the department of Indre-et-Loire has been trying a young bookbinder for the crirfiovof assassination. It happens that the culprit had been, during one period of his life, a " subject" of certain eminent magnetisers; and had, indeed, himself practised the art which some persons regard as based upon legitimate science, and which others are beginning to regard as a revival of the " black ,magic " for which men and women used to be burned and hanged. In its details the alleged offence was of the most ordinary kind. But it is noteworthy by reason of the action taken, not only by the culprit's advocate but by the legal authorities. It was assumed that the accused had been led to the crime with which he was charged par Vahrutisstmtni —by the results of his subjection to magnet ism ; that those persons who had experi mented upon him were the really guilty parties, and that their practices had over thrown his moral equilibrium. In effect, the defence was a revival, in the nineteenth century and in enlightened France of the theory of diabolic possession, which should logically have treated the experimentalists as wizards meriting capital punishment, and the actual murderer as their victim. It is not strange, of course, that the defence should set up such a theory ; there is no limit to the absurdities which have been set; up as defences since the days when the late Sir Fitzroy Kelly defended a prisoner on. the ground that his victim had been eating apples, and that the prussic acid con tained in the pips might have proved fatal. But that the prosecution should have accepted such a theory on be half of the State is a real triumph for those who are attempting to set up theories of moral irresponsibility—who are here, no less than in France, disposed to treat criminals as victims. It is thus the more satisfactory that the common sense of the jury refused to be misled by what foolish people call psychology, and found the murderer guilty—guided to their verdict, no doubt, by the view that if "magnet ism " be {admitted as an extenuating cir cumstance, no murderer could ever be found guilty. '

Exciting Tiger Adventure.

Air exciting tiger adventure recently took place" at the famous Karlee Caves, between Bombay and Poona, so well known to Anglo-Indians and to " globe-trotters." Two visitors to Khandalla received rubber that a tiger was prowling about the neigh bourhood, and they went in search of ib. Whilst moving from one tree to another, so as to get a better view, one of the sports men, Major Lyons of the Ordnance Depart ment, caught sight of the object of his search, in the cave, ready to charge. The Major stepped forward and fired, lodging two bullets ia the beast. The next moment the wounded animal rushed upon his assail ■ ant, savagely seizing him by the leg, and carried, or rather dragged, him along the ground. Major Lyons retained sufficient Eresence of mind to apply the butt-end of is rifle to the tiger's head with 'all the vigour he could command. At first this had no effect, but about 200 yards from the cave the animal let go its hold. On being seized a second time, Major Lyons thrueb his rifle into the mouth of the infuriated beast, who immediately made off with the weapon. Major Lyons's leg was badly bit ten, and he suffered a severe shock, but otherwise he was not injurhd, and^iiea the last mail leffc he was in a fair way to re covery, The tiger was subsequently found dead, Itmeaaured9feefc2inchesby3fee6 5 inches, and was the biggest that had been Been in that porl&n, of the W^ltern. Ghauto for many years.