



Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




Sir Hilton's Sin, by George Manville Fenn.

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SIR HILTON'S SIN, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.



CHAPTER ONE.

AUNTIE AND HER DARLING.

"Don't eat too much marmalade, Sydney dear.  It may make you bilious."

"Oh, no, auntie dear, I'll be careful."

"You have a great deal of butter on your bread, dear?"

"Yes, auntie; that's the beauty of it Miller says--"

"Who is Miller, Syd dear?"

"Our chemistry chap at Loamborough.  He shows us how when you mix acids
and alkalis together they form new combinations which go off in gas."

"Indeed, dear!  Your studies must be very interesting."

"Oh, they are, auntie--awfly.  That's how it is with the marmalade and
the fresh butter--this is real fresh butter, isn't it?"

"Of course, dear.  Whatever did you think it was?"

"Dab, aunt dear.  Margarine.  That wouldn't do, of course; but the
marmalade's nearly all sugar--that's carbon--and the butters all carbon,
too; and then there's a lot of acid in the oranges, and it all combines,
and one kills the other and does you good.  It never hurts me.  Shall I
give you some game pie, auntie?"

"Thank you, no, my dear, but you may pass me the dry toast.  Thanks.
Pass your cup, my child."

Sydney Smithers, who, to use his own term, had been "going in" deeply
for the marmalade, went backwards in his arrangement of the breakfast
comestibles, and helped himself liberally to the game pie, especially
the gelatinous portion, glancing once at the pale, handsome,
sedate-looking lady presiding at the head of the table ready to meet his
eyes and bestow a smile upon the dear child, her nephew, who made the
Denes his home, when he was not at Loamborough spending his last terms
before commencing a college career.

"Such a dear, sweet boy," Lady Lisle often said to herself, as she
beamed upon him blandly with thirty-five-year-old eyes, and idolised
him, as she had no children of her own, and he was her own special
training.

"At it again," said the boy to himself, as he glanced at the lady
furtively; "more letters.  Lady doctors, lady barristers.  Blest if I
don't think she means to go in for a lady parson!  More meetings to go
to, auntie dear?" he said aloud.

"Yes, my darling," replied the lady, with a sigh and another
affectionate beam upon the plump-looking darling intent upon the game
pie.  "The calls made upon my time are rather heavy.  By and by, when
you have grown up, I hope you will be able to help me."

"Why, of course I will, auntie.  Didn't I want to write that answer for
you yesterday?"

"Um--er--yes, my dear; but we must wait a little first.  Your writing is
not quite what I should like to see."

"No, auntie; it is a bit shaky yet.  We don't go in for writing much at
Loamborough; we leave that to the Board School cads."

"And I should like you to be a little more careful over your spelling."

"Oh, Mullins, M.A., says that'll all come right, auntie, when we've
quite done with our classics."

"I hope so, my darling, and then you shall be my private secretary.  I
did hope at one time that I should win over your uncle to a love for my
pursuits.  But alas!"

"Don't seem in uncle's way much, auntie, but he means right, uncle does.
You wait till he's in the House--he'll make some of 'em sit up."

"I hope not, my dear child.  I rather trust to his brother members
leading him into a better way."

"Ah, I don't think you ought to expect that, auntie," said the "dear
boy," using his serviette to remove the high-water mark of coffee from
an incipient moustache.  "They go in for all-night sittings, you know."

"Yes, my dear, but only on emergencies, and for their country's good."

"Walker!" said the "dear boy," softly.

"I used to think at one time that I should be able to wean him from his
bad habit of lying in bed so late.  If he would only follow your example
of getting up early enough for a long walk or ride before breakfast!"

"Nicest part of the day, auntie."

"Yes, my dear."

Lady Lisle sighed, and went on eating crumblets of