Roger Ingleton, Minor

By Talbot Baines Reed________________________________________________________________________You would expect this book with its schoolish title, and by one of themost distinguished authors of books about school-life, to be anothersuch book. But it isn't, and in fact it is much more of an adult's bookthan a child's. 

Old squire Roger Ingleton dies in the first few pages of the book, andwe are left with two more Roger Ingletons. The first of these had had arow with his family twenty years before, had stormed out, had then led adissipated life, and finally had been reported dead somewhere in India. 

The third one is the eponymous hero of the book. He is handed a sealedenvelope left by his deceased father, and in it the father says that heis not at all sure that the older son is really dead. So young Rogergoes looking for his older brother, who will of course then inherit allthe property. Honest and generous, we must say!

The book takes us through all sorts of twists, and is really very goodvalue. We recommend that you read it or listen to it, as it is wellworth the trouble. NH. ________________________________________________________________________ROGER INGLETON, MINOR

BY TALBOT BAINES REED

CHAPTER ONE. 

A SUMMONS. 

The snow lay thick round Maxfield Manor. Though it had been fallingscarcely an hour, it had already transfigured the dull old place from agloomy pile of black and grey into a gleaming vision of white. Itlodged in deep piles in the angles of the rugged gables, and swirled upin heavy drifts against the hall-door. It sat heavily on the broad ivy-leaves over the porch, and blotted out lawn, path, and flowerbed in auniversal pall of white velvet. The wind-flattened oaks in the parkwere become tables of snow; and away over the down, to the edge of thecliff itself, the dazzling canopy stretched, making the gulls as theyskimmed its surface in troubled flight appear dingy, and the uneasyocean beyond more than ever grey and leaden. 

And the snow was falling still, and promised to make a night of it. Atleast so thought one of the inmates of the manor-house as he got up fromhis music-stool and casually looked out of the fast-darkening window, thanking his stars that it mattered little to him, in his cosy bachelor-den, whether it went on a night or a fortnight. This complacentindividual was a man at whom one would be disposed to look twice beforecoming to any definite conclusion respecting him. At the first glanceyou might put him down for twenty-five; at the second, you would wonderwhether you had possibly made a slight miscalculation of twenty years. His keen eyes, his smooth face, his athletic figure, his somewhatdandified dress were all in favour of the young man. The double lineacross his brow, the enigmas about his lips, the imperturbable gravityof his features bespoke the elder. Handsome he was not--he was hardlygood-looking, and the nervous twitch of his eyebrow as it came down overhis single eye-glass constantly disfigured him. What was his temper, his character, his soul, you might sit for a month before him and neverdiscover. But from his deep massive chest, his long arms, his lithestep, and the poise of his head upon his broad shoulders, you wouldprobably conclude that his enemy, if he had one, would do well not tofrequent the same dark lane as Mr Frank Armstrong. 

This afternoon, as he draws his curtain and lights his lamp, he ispassably content with himself and the world; for he has just discovereda new volume of Schumann that takes his fancy. He has no quarrel, therefore, with the snow, except that by its sudden arrival it willprobably hold his promising pupil, Master Roger, prisoner for the nightat Castleridge, where he and his mother have driven for dinner. Thetutor has sufficient interest in his work to make him regret thisinterruption of his duties, but for the present he will console himselfwith Schumann. So he returns to his music-stool--the one spot increation where he allows that he can be really happy--and loses himselfin a maze of sweet sound. 

So engrossed is he in his congenial occupation, that he is quite unawareof the door behind him opening and a voice saying--

"Beg pardon, sir, but the master wants you. "

Raffles, the page-boy, who happened to be the messenger, was obliged todeliver his summons three times--the last time with the accompaniment ofa tap on the tutor's shoulder--before that _virtuoso_ swung round on hisstool and demanded--

"What is it, Raffles?"

"Please, sir, the master wants you hinstanter. "

Mr Armstrong was inclined to compliment Raffles on his Latin, but onsecond thoughts (the tutor's second thoughts murdered a great number ofhis good sayings) he considered that neither the page nor himself wouldbe much better for the jest, and spared himself. 

He nodded to the messenger to go, and closing the piano, screwed hiseye-glass in his eye, ready to depart. 

"Please, sir, " said Raffles at the door, "the governor he's dicky to-day. You'd best have your heye on 'im. "

"Thank you, Raffles; I will, " said the tutor, going out. 

He paced the long passage which led from his quarters to the oak hall, whistling _sotto voce_ a bar or two of the Schumann as he went; then hismanner became sombre as he crossed the polished boards and entered thepassage beyond which led to his employer's library. 

Old Roger Ingleton was sitting in the almost dark room, staring fixedlyinto the fire. There was little light except that of the flickeringembers in his dim, worn face. Though not yet seventy, his spare formwas bent into the body of an old, old man, and the hands, which feeblytapped the arms of the chair on which they rested, were the worn-outmembers of a man long past his work. He saw little and heard less; norwas he ever to be met outside the confines of his library, or, in summerweather, the sunny balcony on to which it opened. Only when he talkedwere you able to realise that this worn-out body did not belong to aTithonus, but to a man whose inward faculties were still alert andvigorous, whatever might be said of his outward failure. Could he buthave been accommodated with the physical frame of a man of fifty, he hadspirit enough to fill it, and become once more what he was twenty yearsago, a complete man. 

"Sit down, Armstrong, " said he, when presently his dim eyes and earsbecame aware of the tutor's presence. "There's no need to light thelamp, and you need not trouble to talk, for I should not be able to hearyou. "

The tutor shook the eye-glass out of his eye, and seated himself at acorner of the hearth in silence. 

Mr Ingleton, having thus prepared his audience, looked silently intothe fire for another half-hour, until the room was dark, and all thetutor could see was a wan hand fidgeting uneasily on the arm of thechair. 

Then with a weary effort the Squire turned his head and began, as ifcontinuing a conversation. 

"I have not been unobservant, Armstrong. You came at a time when Rogerneeded a friend. So far you have done well by him, and I am contentwith my choice of a tutor. What contents me more is to think you arenot yet tired of your charge. I rather envy you, Armstrong. I came togrief where you succeeded. I once flattered myself I could bring up aboy--he happened to be my son, too--but--"

Here the old man resumed his gaze into the fire, and the room was assilent as the grave for a quarter of an hour. The tutor began to beuneasy. Perhaps he had yearnings for his piano and Schumann. For allthat, he sat like a statue and waited. At last the Squire moved again. 

"I dreaded a repetition of that, Armstrong. Had he lived--" Here hestopped again abruptly. 

The tutor waited patiently for five minutes and then screwed his eye-glass into his eye. 

As he did so, the old man uttered a sound very like a snore. MrArmstrong gave an imperceptible shrug of his shoulders and inwardlymeditated a retreat, when the sound came through the darkness again. There was something in it which brought the tutor suddenly to his feet. He struck a match and hastily lit a candle. 

Squire Ingleton sat there just as he had sat an hour ago when the tutorfound him, except that the hand on the chair-arm was quiet, and his chinsunk a little deeper in his chest. The tutor passed the candle beforethe old man's face, and then, scarcely less pallid than his master, rangthe bell. 

"Raffles, " said he, as the page entered, "come here, quick. The Squireis ill. "

"I said he was dicky, " gasped the boy. "I knowed it whenever--"

"Hold your tongue, sir, and help me lift him to the sofa. "

Between them they moved the stricken man to the couch, where he layopen-eyed, speechless, appealing. 

"We must get Dr Brandram, Raffles. "

"That'll puzzle you, " said the boy, "a night like this, and the two'orses at Castleridge. "

"Is there any chance of your mistress returning to-night?"

"Not if Tom Robbins knows it. He's mighty tender of his 'orses, and anight like this--"

"Go and fetch the housekeeper at once, " said the tutor. 

Raffles vanished. 

Mr Armstrong was not the man to lose his head on an emergency, but now, as he bent over the helpless paralytic, and tried to read his wants inthe eyes that looked up into his, he found it needed a mighty effort topull himself together and resolve how to act. 

He must go for the doctor, five miles away. There was no one else aboutthe place who could cover the ground as quickly. But if he went, hemust leave the sufferer to the tender mercies of Raffles and thehousekeeper--a prospect at which Mr Armstrong shuddered; especiallywhen the latter self-important functionary entered, talking at large, and proposing half a dozen contradictory specifics in the short passagefrom the door to the sick-couch. 

Mr Armstrong only delayed to suggest meekly that his impression wasthat a warm bath would, under the circumstances, be of benefit, andthen, not waiting for the contemptuous "Much you know about it" whichthe suggestion evoked, he set off. 

It was no light task on a night like this to plough through the snow forfive miles in search of help, and the lanes to Yeld were, even in openweather, none of the easiest. But the tutor was not the kind of man totrouble himself about difficulties of that sort, provided only he couldfind the doctor in, and transport him in a reasonable time to Maxfield. 

As he passed the stables, he glanced within, on the off-chance offinding a horse available. But the place was empty, and not even astable-boy could be made to hear his summons. 

So he tramped out into the road, where the snow lay a foot deep, andwith long strides carved his way through it towards Yeld. Half a mileon he overtook a country cart, heavily laden and stuck fast in the snow. 

"Ah! Hodder, " said he to the nonplussed old man in charge, "you may aswell give it up. "

"So I are without your telling, " growled the countryman. 

"Very well; I want your horse for a couple of hours. The Squire's ill, and I have to fetch the doctor. "

And without another word, and heedless of the ejaculations of thebewildered Hodder, he began to loose the animal's girths. 

"I'm blamed if you have a hair of him, " said the yokel. 

"I don't want one. Here!" and he pitched him a half-crown. The mangaped stupidly at the unharnessing of his beast, and began to pump upfor another protest. 

But before the words were ready, Mr Armstrong had led the horse out ofthe shafts and had vaulted on his bare back. 

"Eh, " sputtered Hodder, "may I--"

"Good-bye and thanks, " said the tutor, clapping his heels to theanimal's flanks; "you shall have him back safe. "

And he plunged away, leaving the gaping son of the soil, with his half-crown in his hand, to the laborious task of hoisting his lower jaw backinto its normal position. 

Dr Brandram, in whose medical preserves Maxfield Manor lay, wassolacing himself with an after-dinner pipe in his little cottage atYeld, when the tutor, crusted in snow from head to foot, brokeunceremoniously on his privacy. An intuition told the doctor what wasthe matter before even his visitor could say--

"The Squire has had a stroke. Come at once. "

The doctor put down his pipe, and, with a sigh, kicked off his cosyslippers. 

"He has chosen a bad night, Armstrong. How are the roads?"

"A foot deep. Shall you drive or ride?"

"I never ride. "

"You'll need both horses to get through, and I can lend you a spentthird. "

"Thank you. How did he look?"

"He knew what had happened, I think, but could not speak or move. "

"Of course. Suppose you and I do the latter, and postpone the formertill we are under weigh. "

In less than ten minutes, the doctor's gig was trundling through thesnow, with three horses to drag it, and Mr Armstrong in charge of thereins. 

"Yes, " said the doctor, "he's been leading up to this for a long time, as you have probably observed. "

"I can't say I have, " said Mr Armstrong. 

"Ah! well, you've only known him a year. I knew him twenty years ago. "

"Ah!" replied the tutor, chirruping encouragement to the horses. 

"Roger Ingleton's life twenty years ago was a life to make an insurancecompany cheerful, " said the doctor. 

"What changed it?"

"He had a scape-grace son. They fell out--there was a furious quarrel--and one day the father and son--ugh!--fought, with clenched fists, sir, like two--two costermongers!--and the boy did not get the best of it. He left home, and no wonder, and was never heard of since. Faugh! itwas a sickening business. "

"That explains what he was saying this afternoon about a son he hadonce. He was telling me about it when he was struck. "

"Ay! that blow has been owing him for twenty years. It is the lastround of the fight, Armstrong. But, " continued he, "this is all asecret. No one knows it at Maxfield. I doubt if your pupil so much asimagines he ever had a brother. "

"He has never mentioned it to me, " said the tutor. 

"No need that he should know, " said the doctor. "Let the dead bury hisdead. "

"Is he dead, then?"

"Before the Squire married again, " said the doctor, "the poor boy wentstraight to the dogs, and they made an end of him. There! let's talk ofsomething else. I don't know why I tell you what has never passed mylips for twenty years. "

"I wish you hadn't, " said Mr Armstrong shortly, whipping up his horses. 

The two men remained silent during most of that cold, laborious journey. The doctor's few attempts at conversation fell flat, and he took refugefinally in his pipe. As for the tutor, he had his hands full, steeringhis team between the lane-side ditches, and thinking of the wrecked lifethat lay waiting at the journey's end. 

It was nearly ten o'clock before the dim lights of Maxfield Manor showedahead. The snow on the home-drive was undisturbed by the wheels of anyother vehicle. The mother and son had not returned, at any rate, yet. 

As the two men entered, the hall was full of scared domestics, talkingin undertones, and feeding on the occasional bulletin which theprivileged Raffles was permitted to carry from the sick-room to theouter world. 

At the sight of the doctor and Mr Armstrong, they sneaked offgrudgingly to their own territories, leaving Raffles to escort thegentlemen to the scene of the tragedy. 

Old Roger Ingleton lay on the sofa, with eyes half-closed, upturned tothe ceiling; alive still, but no more. Cups and wine-glasses on thetable near told of the housekeeper's fruitless experiments atrestoration, and the inflamed countenance of that ministering angelherself spoke ominously of the four hours during which the sufferer'scomfort had been under her charge. 

The tutor, after satisfying himself that his mission had not been toolate, retired to the fireplace, where he leaned dismally, and watchedthrough his eye-glass the doctor's examination. 

After a few minutes, the latter walked across to him. 

"Did you say Mrs Ingleton and the boy will not be back till themorning?"

"Probably not. "

"If so, they will be too late; he will not last the night. "

"I will fetch them, " said Mr Armstrong quietly. 

"Good fellow! you are having a night of it. I shall remain here; so youcan take whichever of my horses you like. The mare will go best. "

"Thanks!" said the tutor, pulling himself together for this new task. 

Before he quitted the room, he stepped up to the couch and bent for amoment over the helpless form of his employer. There was no recognitionin the glazed eyes, and the hand, which he just touched with his own, was nerveless and dead already. 

With a silent nod to the doctor Mr Armstrong left the room, and waspresently once more ploughing on horseback through the deep snow. 

It was well this man was a man of iron and master of himself, or hemight have flagged under this new effort, with the distressing prospectawaiting him at his journey's end. 

As it was, he urged doggedly forward, forgetful of the existence of suchan individual as Frank Armstrong, and dwelling only on the dying manbehind and the mourners ahead. 

The clock was chiming one in Castleridge Church when at length he reinedup his spent horse at the stable entrance to the Grange. Here for aweary quarter of an hour he rang, called, and whistled before theglimmer of a lantern gave promise of an answer. 

To the stable-boy's not altogether polite inquiry, Mr Armstrongreplied, "Mr Ingleton of Maxfield is ill. Call Robbins, and tell himto put the horses in immediately, to take his mistress and Mr Rogerhome; and get some one in the house to call them. Don't delay aninstant. "

This peremptory speech fairly aroused the sleepy stable-boy, and in afew minutes Mr Armstrong was standing in the hall of the Grange talkingto a footman. 

"Take me up to his room, " said he, pushing the bewildered servant beforehim up the staircase. 

The man, not at all sure that he was not in the grip of an armedburglar, ascended the stair in a maze, not daring to look behind him. 

At the end of a corridor he stopped. 

"Is that the room? Give me the lamp! Go and tell your master to getup. Say a messenger has come with bad news from Maxfield; and lookhere--put some wraps in the carriage, and have some coffee or wine readyin the hall in ten minutes. "

The fellow, greatly reassured by this short parley, went off to fulfilhis instructions, while the tutor, with what was very like a sigh, opened the door and entered his pupil's bedroom. 

Roger Ingleton, minor, lay sound asleep, with his arms behind his headand a smile on his resolute lips. As the light of the lamp fell on hisface, it looked very pale, with its frame of black curly hair and thedeep fringe of its long eyelashes; but the finely-chiselled nostrils andfirm mouth redeemed it from all suspicion of weakness. Even as he sleptyou might judge this lad of nineteen had a will of his own hidden up inthe delicate framework of his body, and resembled his father at least inthis, that his outer man was too narrow a tenement for what itcontained. Almost at the first flash of the light his big black eyesopened, and he started to a sitting posture, bewildered, scared. 

"Oh! why, hullo, Armstrong! what's the matter?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Roger, but--"

The boy bounded out of bed and stood facing his tutor in his night-dress. 

"But I want you to dress as sharp as you can. Your father is unwell. "

"Unwell?" repeated the boy, shivering. "You do not mean he is dead?"

"No--no; but ill. He has had a stroke. Dr Brandram is with him. Ithought it better not to wait till the morning before fetching you. "

"Mother--does she know?"

"By this time. "

"Why ever did we not go back?" groaned the boy. "Is there _any_ hope, Armstrong?"

"Some--yes. Go to your mother and tell her so. The carriage will beready in five minutes. "

In five minutes the boy and his mother descended to the hall, wherealready their host and hostess were down to bid them farewell. It wasdifficult to imagine that the slender dark-eyed handsome woman, whostood there and looked round for a moment so white and trembling andbewildered, was really the mother of the young man on whose arm sheleant. Even under a blow such as this Mrs Ingleton belied her age by adecade. She was still on the sunny side of forty. You and I might havedoubted if she was yet thirty. 

Captain Curtice and his wife had the true kindness to attempt no wordsas they sympathisingly bade their visitors farewell. When the hall-dooropened and let in the cold blast, the poor lady staggered a moment andclung closer to her son's side. Then abandoning composure to the wintrywinds, she found her best refuge in tears, and let herself be led to thecarriage. 

The tutor helped to put her in, and looked inquiringly at his pupil. 

"Come in too, please, " said the latter; "there is room inside. "

Mr Armstrong would fain have taken his seat beside Robbins on the box. He hated scenes, and tears, and tragedies of all sorts. But there wassomething in his pupil's voice which touched him. He took his placewithin, and prayed that the moments might fly till they reachedMaxfield. 

Scarcely a word was spoken. Once Roger hazarded a question, but it wasthe signal for a new outburst on his mother's part; and he wiselydesisted, and leant back in his corner, silent and motionless. As forthe tutor, with the front seat to himself, he nursed his knee, and gazedfixedly out of the window the whole way. 

What weeks those two hours seemed! How the horses laboured, and panted, and halted! And how interminably dismal was the dull muffled crunchingof the wheels through the snow!

At length a blurred light passed the window, and the tutor released hisknee and put up his eye-glass. 

"Here we are, " said he; "that was the lodge. "

Roger slowly and reluctantly sat forward, and wrapped his mother's shawlcloser round her. 

Raffles stood on the door-step, and in the hall beyond Mr Armstrongcould see the doctor standing. 

As he stepped out, the page touched him on the arm. 

"No 'urry, " whispered he; "all over!"

Whereupon the tutor quietly crept away to the seclusion of his own room. 

CHAPTER TWO. 

THE LIVING AMONG THE DEAD. 

The household of Maxfield, worn-out by the excitement of the night, slept, or rather lay in bed, till hard on midday. 

The tutor, as he slowly turned on his side and caught sight of thewinter sun through the frost-bespangled window, felt profoundlydisinclined to rise. He shrank from the tasks that awaited him--thetask of witnessing the grief of the widow and the pale looks of theorphan heir, the dismal negotiations with undertakers and clergymen andlawyers, the stupid questions of the domestics, the sickly fragrance ofstephanotis in the house. Then, too, there was the awkward uncertaintyas to his own future. What effect would the tragedy of last night haveon that? Was it a notice to quit, or what? He should be sorry to go. He liked the place, he liked his pupil, and further, he had nowhere elseto go. Altogether Mr Armstrong felt very reluctant to exchange hiseasy bed for the chances and changes of the waking world. Besides, lastly, the water in his bath, he could see, was frozen; and it washopeless on a day like this to expect that Raffles would bring himsufficient hot, even to shave with. 

However, the tutor had had some little practice before now in doing whathe did not like. With a sigh and a shiver, therefore, he flung asidehis blankets and proceeded to break the ice literally, and take hisbath. After that he felt decidedly better, and with the help of asteady ten minutes grind at the dumb-bells, he succeeded in pullinghimself together. 

He had reached this stage in his toilet when a knock came at the door. 

"Come in, Raffles, " said Mr Armstrong, beginning to see some prospectof a shave after all. 

It was not Raffles, but Dr Brandram, equipped for the road. 

"I'm off, Armstrong, " said he. "I'd ask you to come and drive me, onlyI think you are wanted here. See the boy eats enough and doesn't mope. You must amuse him if you can. You understand what I told you lastnight was not for him. By the way, "--here the doctor held out a sealedpacket--"this was lying on the old man's table last night. It wasprobably to give it to you that he sent for you in the afternoon, andthen forgot it. Well, good-bye. I shall come to-morrow if the roadsare passable. I only hope, for my sake, all this will not make anydifference to your remaining at Maxfield. "

Mr Armstrong finished his toilet leisurely, and then proceeded toexamine the packet. 

It was a large envelope, addressed, "Frank Armstrong, Esquire, " in theold man's quavering hand. 

Within was another envelope, firmly sealed, on which the same hand hadwritten these words--

"_To be given unopened into the hands of Roger Ingleton, junior, on histwentieth birthday_. "

The effort of writing those few words had evidently been almost morethan the writer could accomplish, for towards the end the letters becamealmost illegible, and the words were huddled in a heap at the corner ofthe paper. The sealing, too, to judge from the straggling blots of waxall over and the ineffective marks of the seal, must have been thelabour of a painful morning to the feeble, half-blind old man. 

To the tutor, however, as he held the missive in his hand, and looked atit with the reverence one feels for a token from the dead, it seemed tomake one or two things tolerably clear. 

First, that the contents, whatever they were, were secret and important, else the old man would never have taken upon himself a labour he couldso easily have devolved upon another. Secondly, that this old man, rightly or wrongly, regarded Frank Armstrong as a man to be trusted, andcontemplated that a year hence he would occupy the same position withregard to the heir of Maxfield as he did now. 

Having arrived at which conclusions, the tutor returned the packet toits outer envelope and locked the whole up in his desk. Which done, hedescended to the breakfast-room. 

As he had expected, no one was there. What was worse, there was no signeither of fire or breakfast. To a man who has not tasted food for abouttwenty hours, such a discovery could not fail to be depressing, and MrArmstrong meekly decided to summon Raffles to his assistance. As hepassed down the passage, he could not forbear halting for a moment atthe door of a certain room, behind which he knew the mortal remains ofhis dead employer lay. As he paused, not liking to enter, liking stillless to pass on, the sound of footsteps within startled him. It was notdifficult, after a moment's reflection, to guess to whom they belonged, and the tutor softly tapped on the door. 

The only answer was the abrupt halting of the footsteps. Mr Armstrongentered and found his pupil. 

Roger was standing in the ulster he had worn last night. His eyes wereblack and heavy with weariness, his face was almost as white as the faceof him who lay on the couch, and as he turned to the open door his teethchattered with cold. 

"I couldn't leave him alone, " whispered he apologetically, as the tutorlaid a gentle hand on his arm. 

"Of course--of course, " replied Mr Armstrong. "I guessed it was you. Would you rather be left alone?"

"No, " said the lad wearily. "I thought by staying here I should getsome help--some--I don't know what, Armstrong. But instead, I'm halfasleep. I've been yawning and shivering, and forgotten who was here--and--" Here his eyes filled with tears. 

"Dear old fellow, " said the tutor, "you are fagged out. Come and get alittle rest. "

Roger sighed, partly to feel himself beaten, partly at the prospect ofrest. 

"All right!" said he. "I'm ashamed you should see me so weak when Iwanted to be strong. Yes, I'll come--in one minute. "

He walked over to the couch and knelt beside it. His worn-out body hadsuccumbed at last to the misery against which it had battled so long, and for a moment he yielded himself to his sorrow. The tutor waited amoment, and then walked quietly from the room. 

For a quarter of an hour he paced restlessly in the cold passageoutside; then, as his pupil did not appear, he returned to the chamberof death. Roger Ingleton, as he expected, had fallen asleep where heknelt. 

The wretched days between the death and the funeral dragged on in theusual dismal fashion. Mrs Ingleton kept her room; the domestics tookthe occasion to neglect their work, and Roger Ingleton, minor, passedthrough all the stages from inconsolable misery to subdued cheerfulness. Mr Armstrong alone went through no stages, but remained the sameunimpassioned individual he had been ever since he became a member ofthe Maxfield household. 

"Armstrong, " said the boy, the day before the funeral, "do you know, I'mthe only male Ingleton left?"

"I didn't know it. Have you no uncles or cousins?"

"None on our side. Some distant cousins on, mother's side, but they'reabroad. We were going over the lot yesterday, mother and I; but wecouldn't scrape up a single relation to come to-morrow. We shall haveto get you and Brandram and fathers solicitor to come to the funeral, ifyou don't mind. "

"Of course I shall come, " said Mr Armstrong. 

"And, by the way, it seems rather queer, doesn't it, that I shall havecharge of all this big property, and, I suppose, be master of all thepeople about the place. "

"Naturally. Amongst your humble and obedient servants the present tutorof Maxfield will need to be included. "

"Oh, you!" said Roger, smiling; "yes, you'll need to look out how youbehave, you know, or I shall have to terminate our engagement. Isn't itqueer?"

Queer as it was, the tutor winced at the jest, and screwed his eye-glassa little deeper into his eye. 

"Seriously, though, " said Roger, "I'm awfully glad I've got you here toadvise me. I want to do things well about the place, and keep squarewith the tenants, and improve a great many things. I noticed a wholelot of cottages to-day that want rebuilding. And I think I ought tobuild a club-room for the young fellows in the village, and give a newlifeboat to replace the `Vega, ' What do you think?"

"I'll tell you this time to-morrow. Meanwhile what do you say to a ridebefore dark? It would do you good. "

They had a long trot through the lanes and along the shore, ending witha canter over the downs, which landed the heir of Maxfield at home witha glow in his cheeks and an appetite such as he had not known for aweek. 

Next day the funeral took place in the family vault at the littlechurchyard of Yeld. The villagers, as in duty bound, flocked to paytheir last respects to the old Squire, whose face for the last twentyyears they had scarcely seen, and of whose existence, save on rent-day, many of them had been well-nigh ignorant. 

Many an eye turned curiously to the slim, pale boy, as he stood alone, the last of his house, at the open tomb; and many a speculation as tohis temper and prospects occupied minds which were supposed to be intenton the solemn words of the Burial Service. 

Roger himself, with that waywardness of the attention which afflicts useven in the gravest acts of our life, found himself listening to thewords in a sort of dream, while his mind was occupied in reading over tohimself the names of his ancestors inscribed on the panels of the vault. 

"John Ingleton of Maxfield Manor, who died ye ninth day of June, 1760, aetat 74. 

"Peter Ingleton of Maxfield Manor, his son, obiit March 6, 1794. 

"Paul Ingleton, only son of above Peter; born January 1, 1790, diedSeptember 20, 1844. 

"Ruth, beloved wife of Roger Ingleton, Esquire, of Maxfield Manor, whodied on February 14, 1865, aged 37. "

Now a new inscription would be added. 

"Roger Ingleton, son of the above-named Paul Ingleton, who died January10, 1885. "

And when that was added, there would yet be space for another namebelow. 

Roger shuddered a little, and brought his mind back with an effort tothe solemn act which was taking place. 

The clergyman's voice ceased, and the fatherless lad stooped to get alast view of the flower-covered coffin. Then, with a heart lonelierthan he had ever known it before, he turned away. 

The people fell back and made a silent lane for him to pass. 

"Poor lad, " said a country wife, as she looked after him, "pity knows, he'll be this way again before long. "

"Hold thy tongue, " said another; "thee'd look white and shaky if theewas the only man of thy name left on earth--eh, Uncle Hodder?"

"Let un go, " said the venerable proprietor of the tutor's borrowed horselast week, "let 'un go. The Ingletons was all weaklings, but they heldout to nigh on threescore and ten years. All bar the best of them--there was naught weak about him, yet he dropped off in blossom-time. "

"Ay, ay, poor lad, " said the elder of the women in a whisper, "pity ofthe boy. He'd have taken the load on his shoulders to-day better thanyonder white child. "

"Hold thy tongue and come and take thy look at the old Squire's lastlying-place. "

Roger overheard none of their talk, but wandered on, lonely, but angrywith himself for feeling as unemotional as he did. He told the coachmanhe would walk home, and started along the half-thawed lanes, hoping thatthe five miles solitary walk would help to bring him into a frame ofmind more appropriate to the occasion. 

But try as he would, his mind wandered; first to his mother; then toMaxfield and the villagers; then to his pet schemes for a model village;then to Armstrong and his studies; then to a certain pair of foils thathung in his room; then to the possibility of a yacht next summer; thento the county festivities next winter, with perhaps a ball at Maxfield;then to his approaching majority, and all the delights of unfetteredmanhood; then--

He had got so far at the end of a mile, when he heard steps trampingthrough the mud behind him. 

It was Mr Armstrong. 

The boy's first impulse was to put on an air of dejection he was farfrom feeling; but his honesty came to his rescue in time. 

"Hullo, Armstrong! I'm so glad it's you. You'll never guess what I wasthinking about when I heard you?"

"About being elected M. P. For the county?" asked the tutor gravely. 

"How did you guess that? I tried to think about other things, you know, but--"

"Luckily you chose to be natural instead. Well, I hope you'll beelected, when the time comes. "

The two beguiled their walk in talk which, if not exactly what mighthave been expected of mourners, at least served to restore the boy'shighly-strung mind to its proper tone, and to make the aspect of thingsin general brighter for him than it had been when he started so dismallyfrom the graveyard. 

"Now, " said he, with a sigh, as they entered the house, "now comes theawful business of reading the will. Pottinger is sure to make anoccasion of it. It would be worth your while to be present to hear himperform. "

"Thanks!" said the tutor; "I'll look to you for a full account of theceremony by and by. I'll accompany it to slow music upstairs. "

But as it happened, Mr Armstrong was not permitted to escape, as he hadfondly hoped, to his piano. Raffles followed him presently to his roomand said--

"Please, sir, Mr Pottinger sends his compliments, and will be glad ifyou will step down to the library, sir. "

Mr Armstrong scowled. 

"What does he want?" he muttered. 

"He wants a gentleman or two to say 'ear, 'ear, I fancy, " said the page, with a grin. 

Mr Armstrong gave a melancholy glance at his piano, and screwed hisglass in his eye aggressively. 

"All right, Raffles; you can go. "

"What does the old idiot want with me, I wonder, " said he to himself, "unless it's to give me a month's notice, and tell me I may clear out?Heigho! I hope not. "

With which pleasant misgivings, he strolled down-stairs. 

In the library was assembled a small but select audience to do MrPottinger, the Yeld attorney, honour. The widow was there, looking palebut charming in her deep mourning and tasteful cap. Roger was there, restless, impatient, and a little angry at all the fuss. Dr Brandramand the Rector were there, resigned, as men who had been throughceremonies of the kind before. And a deputation of dead-servants sat onchairs near the door, gratified to be included in the party, andmentally going over their services to the testator, and appraising themin anticipation. 

"We were waiting for you, Mr Armstrong, " said the attorney severely, asthe tutor entered. 

Mr Armstrong looked not at all well pleased to be thus accosted, andwalked to a seat in the bay-window behind Mr Pottinger. 

The man of the law put on his glasses, took a sip of water from atumbler he had had brought in, blew his nose, and glancing round on hisaudience with all the enjoyment of a man who feels himself master of thesituation, began to make a little speech. 

There was first a little condescending preamble concerning the virtuesof the deceased, which every one but Roger listened to respectfully. The son felt it as much as he could put up with to sit still and hearit, and began to fidget ominously, and greatly to the disturbance of thespeaker. When Mr Pottinger, after a few reproachful pauses, left thistopic and began to discourse on his own relations with the late Squire, it was the turn of Dr Brandram to become restless. 

"This is not the occasion for dwelling on the gratification I receivedfrom--"

Here the doctor deliberately rose and walked across the room for afootstool, which, as deliberately, he walked back with and laid at thefeet of Mrs Ingleton. "Beg pardon--go on, " said he, meeting theastonished eye of the attorney. 

"The gratification I received from the kind expressions--"

Here a large coal inconsiderately fell out of the fire with a loudclamour. Raffles, with considerable commotion, came from his seat andproceeded to restore it to its lost estate. 

Mr Pottinger took his glasses from his nose and regarded theperformance with such abject distress, that Roger, catching sight of hisface, involuntarily smiled. "Really, " exclaimed the now thoroughlyoffended friend of the family, "really, my boy, on an occasion such asthis--"

Here the Rector, to every one's relief, came gallantly to the rescue. "This is very tedious, Mr Pottinger, " said he. "The friends here, I amsure, will prefer that you should omit all these useless preliminaries, and come to the business at once. Let me read the document for you; myeyes are younger than yours. "

At this terrific act of insubordination, and the almost blasphemoussuggestion which capped it, the lawyer fell back in his chair and brokeout into a profuse perspiration, gazing at the Rector as he would atsome suddenly intruding wild animal. Then, with a gasp, taking in theperil of the whole situation, he hastily took up the will and plungedinto it. 

It was a long, tedious document, hard to understand; and when it wasended, no one exactly grasped its purport. 

Then came the moment of Mr Pottinger's revenge. The party was at hismercy after all. 

"What does it all amount to?" said the doctor, interpreting theperplexed looks of the company. 

"I had better perhaps explain it in simple words, " said the attorneycondescendingly, "if you will give me your attention. "

You might have heard a pin drop now. 

"Briefly, the provisions of our dear friend's will are these. Properprovision is made for the support in comfort of the widow during herlife. Legacies are also left, as you have heard, to certain friends, servants, and charities. The whole of the remaining property, which itis my impression will be found to be very considerable, is left in trustfor the testator's only son, Roger, our young friend here, who is toreceive it absolutely on reaching the age of twenty-one. The conditionsof the trust are a trifle peculiar. There are three trustees, who arealso guardians of the heir. The first is Mrs Ingleton, the widow; thesecond is Edward Oliphant, Esquire, of Her Majesty's Indian Army, secondcousin, I understand, of Mrs Ingleton, and, in the event (which I trustis not likely) of the death of our young friend here, heir-presumptiveto the property. His trusteeship is dependent on his coming to thiscountry and assuming the duties of guardian to the heir, and provisionis made accordingly. The third trustee and guardian is Mr FrankArmstrong, who is entitled to act so long as he holds his present postof tutor to the heir, which post he will retain only during MrsIngleton's pleasure. It is also provided that, in the event of anydifference of opinion among the trustees, Mrs Ingleton (as is mostproper) shall be permitted to decide; and lastly--a curious eccentricityon our dear friend's part, which was perhaps hardly necessary toinsert--in the event of Roger Ingleton, previous to his attaining hismajority, becoming a felon, a lunatic, or marrying, he is to be regardedas dead, and the property thereby passes to the next heir, CaptainOliphant. I think we may congratulate ourselves on what is really avery simple will, and which, provided the trustees named consent to act, presents very little difficulty. I have telegraphed already to CaptainOliphant. Mr Armstrong, will you do me the favour, at yourconvenience, of intimating to me your consent or otherwise?"

Mr Armstrong made no response. It was indeed doubtful whether he hadheard the question. For at that precise moment, gazing about him inbewilderment at the unexpected responsibility thus thrown upon him, hiseyes became suddenly riveted by a picture. It was a portrait, partlyconcealed behind the curtain of the window in which he sat, but unveiledsufficiently to disclose the face of a fair-haired boy, younger by someyears than Roger, with clear blue eyes and strong compressed mouth, somewhat sullen in temper, but with an air of recklessness anddetermination which, even in the portrait, fascinated the beholder. MrArmstrong, although he had frequently been in his late employer's study, had never noticed this picture before. Now, as he caught sight of itand suddenly met the flash of those wild bright eyes, he experiencedsomething like a shock. He could not help recalling Dr Brandram's sadstory the other day. Something seemed mysteriously to connect thisportrait and the story together in his mind. Strange that at such amoment, when the fate of the younger son was being decided, his guardianshould thus come suddenly face to face with the elder!

Mr Armstrong was not a superstitious man, but he felt decidedly gladwhen a general break up of the party allowed him to get out of range ofthese not altogether friendly eyes, and escape to the seclusion of hisown room. 

CHAPTER THREE. 

A MISSING INSCRIPTION. 

A week later, Mr Pottinger, as he trotted into his office, found aletter and a telegram lying side by side on his desk. 

He opened the telegram first and read--

"Bombay, January 17. Consent. Am starting, Oliphant. "

"That's all right, " said the lawyer to himself. "We shall have onecompetent executor, at any rate. "

He endorsed the telegram and proceeded to open the letter. It too was avery brief communication. 

 "Sir, I beg to say I accept the duties of trustee and guardian conferred on me by the will of the late Roger Ingleton, Esquire. 

 "Yours, etcetera, "Frank Armstrong. "

"Humph!" growled the attorney. "I was afraid so. Well, well, it's notmy affair. The Squire knew my opinion, so my conscience is clear. Anadventurer, nothing less--a dangerous man. Don't like him! Well, well!"

To do Mr Pottinger justice, this opinion of his was of no recent date. Indeed, it was of as long standing as the tutor's first arrival atMaxfield, eighteen months ago. It was one of the few matters on whichhe and his late client had differed. 

Calmly indifferent as to the effect of his communication on the lawyer, Mr Armstrong was at that moment having an audience with his co-trusteeand mistress, Mrs Ingleton. 

"Mr Armstrong, " said she, "I hope for all our sakes you see your way toaccept the duties my dear husband requested of you. "

"I have written to Mr Pottinger to notify my consent. "

"I am so glad. I shall have to depend on you for so much. It will beso good for Roger to have you with him. His father was always anxiousabout him--most anxious. You know, Mr Armstrong, " added she, "if thereis any--any question as to salary, or anything I can do to make yourposition here comfortable, you must tell me. For Roger's sake I amanxious you should be happy here. "

"Thank you, madam. I am most comfortable, " said Mr Armstrong, lookinganything but what he described himself. He had a detestation ofbusiness interviews, and wished profoundly he was out of this. 

"I am sure you will like Captain Oliphant, " said the widow. "I have notseen him for many years--indeed, since shortly after Roger was born; butwe have heard from him constantly, and Mr Ingleton had a high opinionof him. He is a very distant cousin of mine, you know. "

"So I understand. "

"Poor fellow! his wife died quite young. His three children will bequite grown up now, poor things. Well, thank you very much, MrArmstrong. I hope we shall always be good friends for dear Roger'ssake. Good-bye. "

Roger, as may be imagined, had not waited a whole week beforeascertaining his tutor's intentions. 

He had been a good deal staggered at first by his father's will, withits curious provisions; but, amongst a great deal that was perplexingand disappointing in it, he derived no little comfort from the fact thatMr Armstrong was to be one of his legal protectors. 

"I don't see, you know, " said he, as he lounged against his tutor'smantelpiece one evening. "I don't see why a fellow of nineteen can't betrusted to behave himself without being tied up in this way. It's myimpression I know as well how to behave now as I am likely to do when Iam twenty-one. "

"That is a reflection in advance on my dealings with you during the nexttwo years, " said the tutor with a grin, as he swung himself half roundon the piano-stool so as to get his hand within reach of the keys. 

"I don't mind _you_, " said the boy, "but I hope this Cousin Edward, orwhoever he is, won't try to `deal' with me too. "

"I am informed he is virtue and amiability itself, " said the tutor. 

"If he is, all serene. I'll take my walks abroad with one little handin yours, and the other in his, like a good boy. If he's not, there'llbe a row, Armstrong. In anticipation of which I feel in the humour fora turn at the foils. "

So they adjourned into the big empty room dedicated to the manly sportsof the man and his boy, and there for half an hour a mortal combatraged, at the end of which Roger pulled off his mask and said, panting--

"Where did you learn foils, Armstrong? For a year I've been trying torun you through the body, and I've never even yet scratched your arm. "

"I fenced a good deal at Oxford. "

"Ah! I wonder if I shall ever go to Oxford? This will cuts me out ofthat nicely. "

"Not at all. How?"

"Well, you can't be my tutor here while I'm an undergraduate there, canyou? I'd sooner give up Oxford than you, Armstrong. "

"Kind of you--wrong of you too, perhaps. But at twenty-one you'll beyour own master. "

"I may not be in the humour then. Besides, I shall have my hands fullof work here then. It's hard lines to have to kick my heels in idlenessfor two years, while I've so many plans in my head for improving theplace, and to have to ask your leave to spend so much as a halfpenny. "

"It is rather tragic. It strikes me, however, that Cousin Edward willbe the financial partner of our firm. I shall attend to the literarypart of the business. "

"And poor mother has to umpire in all your squabbles. Upon my word, whycouldn't I have been treated like a man straight off, instead of beingwashed and dressed and fed with a spoon and wheeled in a perambulator bythree respectable middle-aged persons, who all vote me a nuisance. "

"In the first place, Roger Ingleton, I am not yet middle-aged. In thesecond place, I do not vote you a nuisance. In the third place, if youstand there much longer like that, with your coat off, you will catchyour death of cold, which would annoy me exceedingly. "

This was one of many conversations which took place. It was difficultto say whether Mr Armstrong took his new duties seriously or not. Hegenerally contrived to say something flippant about them when his pupiltackled him on the subject, but at the same time he rarely failed togive the boy a hint or two that somewhere hidden away behind the cool, odd exterior of the man, there lurked a very warm corner for thefatherless heir of Maxfield. 

For the next week or two the days passed uneventfully. The manor-housesettled down to its old routine, minus the old man who had once been itsmaster. The villagers, having satisfied themselves that things werelikely to be pretty much the same for them under the new _regime_ as theold, resumed their usual ways, and touched their caps regularly to theyoung Squire. The trampled grass in Yeld churchyard lifted its headagain, and a new inscription was added to the family roll on the door ofthe vault. 

"Armstrong, " said the heir one day, as he stood inspecting this lastmemorial, "I have a good mind to have my brother's name put on heretoo. "

This was the first time the tutor had ever heard the boy mention hisbrother. Indeed, he had, like Dr Brandram, doubted whether Roger somuch as knew that he had had a brother. 

"What brother?" he inquired vaguely. 

"Oh, he died long ago, before I was born. He was the son of father'sfirst wife, you know, " pointing to the inscription of Ruth Ingleton'sname. "He is not buried here--he died abroad, I believe--but I thinkhis death should be recorded with the others. Don't you?"

"Certainly, " said the tutor. 

"I must try to find the exact date, " said Roger as they walked away. "My father would hardly ever talk about him; his death must have been aknock-down blow to him, and I believe it broke his mother's heart. Sometimes I wish he had lived. He was called Roger too. I dare sayBrandram or the Vicar can tell me about it. "

Mr Armstrong was a good deal concerned at this unexpected curiosity onthe boy's part. He doubted whether it would not be better to tell himthe sad story at once, as he had heard it from the doctor. He dislikedsecrets extremely, especially when he happened to be the custodian ofthem; and painful as the discovery of this one might be to his ward, itmight be best that he should know it now, instead of hoveringindefinitely in profitless mystery. 

It was, therefore, with some sense of relief that, half-way home, heperceived Dr Brandram in the road ahead. The doctor was, in fact, bound for Maxfield. 

"By the way, doctor, " said the tutor, determined to take the bull by thehorns, and glaring at his friend rather fiercely through his eye-glass, "we were talking about you just now. Roger has been telling me about anelder brother of his who died long ago and thinks some record of thedeath should be made on the vault. I think so too. "

"I was saying, " said Roger, "my father never cared to talk about it; so, except that he died abroad, and that his name was the same as mine, Ireally don't know much about him. Did you know him?"

The doctor looked uncomfortable, and not altogether grateful to MrArmstrong for landing him in this dilemma. 

"Don't you think, " said he, ignoring the last question, "as the Squiredid not put up an inscription, it would be better to leave the tomb asit is?"

"I don't see that, " said the boy. "Of course I should say where hereally did die. Where was that, by the way?"

"I really did not hear. Abroad, I understood your father to say. "

"Was he delicate, then, that he had to go away? How old was he, doctor?"

"Upon my word, he was so seldom at home, and, when he was, I saw solittle of him, that my memory is very hazy about him altogether. Hecan't have been more than a boy of fifteen or sixteen, I should say. Bythe way, Roger, how does the new cob do?"

"Middling. He's rather lumpy to ride. I shall get mother to swop himfor a horse, if she can. I say, doctor, what was he like?"

"Who?--The cob? Oh, your brother! I fancy he was a fine young fellow, but not particularly good-looking. "

"At all like me?"

"Not at all, I should say. But really, as I say, I can recall verylittle about him. "

The doctor uttered this in a tone which conveyed so broad a hint that hedid not relish the subject, that Roger, decidedly mystified, desistedfrom further inquiries. 

"What on earth, " said the former to Mr Armstrong, when at last they hadreached Maxfield and the boy had left them, "what on earth has put allthis into his head?"

"I cannot tell you. I rather hoped you would tell him all you knew; itwould come better from you. If I know anything of Roger, he will findit out for himself, whether you like it or not. "

"Nice thing to be a family doctor, " growled Dr Brandram, "and havecharge of the family skeletons. Between you and me, Armstrong, I wasnever quite satisfied about the story of the boy's death abroad. Theold man said he had had news of it, and that was all anybody, even thepoor mother, ever got out of him. "

"Really, Brandram, " said the tutor, "you are a most uncomfortableperson. I wish you would not make me a party to these mysteries. Idon't like them, they are upsetting. "

"Well, well, old fellow, " replied the doctor, "whatever it was once, it's no mystery now; for the poor fellow has long ago made good hisright to an inscription on the tombstone. You need have no doubt ofthat. "

A letter with an Indian post-mark, which arrived that same evening, served for the present, at least, to divert the thoughts of Roger aswell as of his tutor to other channels. 

The letter was from Captain Oliphant addressed to Mrs Ingleton. 

"My very dear cousin, " it read, "need I say with what deep sympathy Ireceived the news of our dear Roger's sudden call? At this greatdistance, blows of this kind fall with cruel heaviness, and I assure youI felt crushed as I realised that I should no more grasp the hand of oneof the noblest men it has been my privilege to call by the name offriend. If my loss is so great, what must _yours_ be? I dare not thinkof it! I was truly touched by our dear one's thought of me in desiringthat I should join you in the care of his orphaned boy. I regard thisdying wish as a sacred trust put upon me, which gratitude and love alikerequire that I should accept. Ere this letter reaches you, I shallmyself be nearing England. The provision our dear Roger has made hasemboldened me to resign my commission, so that I may devote my wholetime without distraction to my new charge. You know, dear cousin, thespecial bond of sympathy that unites us; your boy has been robbed of aparent; my children long since have had to mourn a mother. I cannotleave them here. They accompany me to England, where perhaps for all ofus there awaits a community of comfort. I bespeak your motherly heartfor them, as I promise you a father's affection for your boy. I willwrite no more at present. The `Oriana' is due in London, I believe, about February 20, and we shall, I need hardly assure you, not lingerlong before bringing in our own persons to Maxfield whatever sympathyfour loving hearts can carry amongst them. 

"With love to the dear boy, believe me, dear cousin, your loving andsympathising fellow-mourner, --

"Edward Oliphant. "

Mrs Ingleton, highly gratified, handed the beautiful letter first toher son, then to Mr Armstrong. 

Roger was hardly as taken with it as his mother. 

"Civil enough, " said he, "and I dare say he means all he says; but Idon't warm to the prospect of being cherished by him. Besides, there issomething a trifle too neat in the way he invites his whole family toMaxfield. What do you think, Armstrong?"

Mr Armstrong was perusing the letter with knitted brows and a curl ofhis lips. He vouchsafed no reply until he had come to the end. Then heshook the glass ominously out of his eye and said--

"I'll tell you that when I see him. "

Roger knew his tutor well enough to see that he did not like the letterat all, and he felt somewhat fortified in his own misgivingsaccordingly. 

"I wonder what mother will do with them all?" said the boy. "Surely wearen't to have the place turned into a nursery for two years. "

"I understand the young people are more than children, " said the tutor. 

"So much the worse, " growled Roger. 

On the morning before the "Oriana" was due, Mrs Ingleton suggested toher son that it would be a polite thing if he were to go to town andmeet the travellers on their arrival. Roger, not particularly charmedwith the prospect, stipulated that Mr Arm strong should come with him, and somewhat shocked his fond parent by expressing the hope that thevessel might be a few days late, and so allow time for a little jaunt inLondon before the arrival of his new guardian. 

Mr Armstrong meekly acquiesced in the proposal, and scarcely lessexhilarated than his pupil, retired to pack for the journey. 

Roger meanwhile occupied the interval before starting by writing aletter in the study. Since his father's death he had taken quietpossession of this room, one of the pleasantest in the house. A feelingof reverence for the dead had prompted him to disturb its contents andfurniture as little as possible, and hitherto his occupation hadscarcely extended beyond the arm-chair at the fire, and the writing-table. To-day, however, as he sat biting his pen and looking for aninspiration out of the window, his eye chanced to rest for a moment on aframe corner peeping from behind a curtain. He thought nothing of itfor a while, and having found his idea, went on writing. But presentlyhis eyes strayed again, and once more lit upon the misplaced piece ofgilding. 

He went over mechanically to adjust it, pondering his letter all thewhile. 

"Why ever can't they hang things where they can be seen?" said he as hedrew back the curtain. 

The last words dropped half-spoken from his lips, as he disclosed theportrait of a certain boy, flashing at him with his reckless eyes, andhalf-defying him out of the canvas. 

Like Mr Armstrong, when he had encountered the picture a month ago, Roger Ingleton instinctively guessed in whose presence he stood. 

The discovery had something in it both of a shock and a disappointment. If this was really his elder brother, he was strangely different fromwhat he had in fancy pictured him. He had imagined him his own age, whereas this was a boy considerably his junior. He had imagined himdark and grave, whereas this was fair and mocking; and he had imaginedhim amiable and sympathetic, whereas this was hostile and defiant. 

Yet, for all that, Roger stood fascinated. A chord deep in his naturethrilled as he said to himself, "My brother. " He, the young man, felthimself captive to this imperious boy. He wished he knew the mind ofthe picture, or could hear its voice. What were the eyes flashing at?At whom or what were the lips thus curled? Was it wickedness, or anger, or insolence, or all together, that made the face so unlike any otherface he knew?

How long he spent over these speculations, half afraid, half enamouredof the picture, he could not say. He forgot all about his letter; nordid he finally descend from the clouds till a voice behind him said--

"What have you got there, old fellow?"

"Oh, Armstrong, " said the boy, turning round hurriedly, like onedetected in mischief, "look here at this picture. "

The tutor was looking. 

"Who is it?" he asked. 

"My elder brother, I'm sure. I didn't know we had it. "

"There's not much family likeness in it, " said Mr Armstrong. "Are yousure it is he?"

"I feel positive of it. Stay, perhaps there's something written on theback, " and he lifted the picture from the nail. 

The paper at the back was almost black with dust and age. They wiped itcarefully with a duster, and took it to the window. 

"No, " said Roger, "nothing there. "

"Yes, " said the tutor, "what's this?"

And he pointed out a few faint marks in very faded ink, which, afterconsiderable trouble, they deciphered. 

 "R. I. , born 3 September 1849, died 186--, " (the last figure was illegible). 

"That settles it, " said Roger, "all except the exact date when he died. Upon my word, I'm quite glad it is my brother after all. I shouldn'thave liked if he'd turned out any one else. "

"Do you know, " added he, as he was about to replace the picture, "Ithink I shall take it up to my room. I've taken rather a fancy to him. "

That afternoon the two friends took the train to London, where, considerably to the relief of both, they heard that the "Oriana" was notexpected in dock for three days. 

CHAPTER FOUR. 

ACQUAINTANCES NEW AND OLD. 

Roger's projected jaunt in London did not turn out as satisfactorily ashe had anticipated, as he caught a heavy cold on the first day, whichkept him a prisoner in his hotel. Mr Armstrong needed all hisauthority to restrain the invalid within bounds; and it was only bythreatening to convey him bodily home that the boy consented to nursehimself. Even so, it was as much as he could do to shake off his coldsufficiently on the morning of the arrival of the "Oriana" to accompanyhis tutor to the Dock to greet his unknown kinsfolk. 

As he shouldered his way on board over the crowded gangway, he foundhimself speculating somewhat nervously as to which of the numerouspassengers standing about the deck was his new guardian. Was it theferocious man with the great black beard who was swearing at his Indianservant in a voice loud enough to be heard all over the ship? Or was itthe dissipated-looking fellow who walked unsteadily across themotionless ship, and finally clung for support to the deck railings? Orwas it the discontented-looking little person who scowled at the companyat large from the bridge? Or was it the complacent man with theexpansive presence and leonine head, who smoked a big cigar and wasexchanging a few effusive farewells with a small group of fellow-voyagers?

Roger accosted one of the stewards--

"Will you please tell Captain Oliphant that Mr Roger Ingleton is onboard, with Mr Armstrong, and would like to see him?"

The man gave a look up and down and went straight to the expansiveperson before mentioned. 

The visitors could see the gentleman start a little as the stewarddelivered his message, and pitch his cigar away as, with a serious face, he walked in their direction. 

"My poor dear boy, " said he, taking Roger's hand, "this _is_ good ofyou--very good. How glad I am to see you! How is your dear mamma?"

"Mother is very well. Have you had a good voyage? Oh, this is MrArmstrong. "

Mr Armstrong all this while had been staring through his eye-glass athis co-trustee in no very amiable way, and now replied to thatgentleman's greeting with a somewhat stiff "How do you do?" "Where onearth did I see you before, my gentleman?" said he to himself, andhaving put the riddle, he promptly gave it up. 

Mr Oliphant displayed very little interest in his fellow-guardian, butsaid to Roger--

"The children will be so delighted to see you. We have talked so muchof you. They will be here directly; they are just putting togethertheir things in the cabin. But now tell me all about yourself, my boy. "

Roger did not feel equal to this comprehensive task, and said, "Isuppose you'll like to go straight on to Maxfield, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, yes! It may be a day before we get our luggage clear, so we willcome to your hotel to-night and go on to-morrow. Why, my boy, what acough you have! Ah! here comes Rosalind. "

The figure which approached the group was that of a young lady aboutseventeen years of age, tall and slim, clad in a loose cloak whichfloated about her like a cloud, and considerably encumbered with sundryshawls and bags on one arm, a restive dog in another, and a hat whichrefused to remain on her head in the wind. 

Mr Armstrong was perhaps no great connoisseur of female charms, but hethought, as he slowly tried to make up his mind whether he shouldventure to assist her, that he had rarely seen a more interestingpicture. 

Her face was flushed with the glow of youth and health. An artist mighthave found fault with it here and there, but to the tutor it seemedcompletely beautiful. The fine poise of her head upon the dainty neck, the classic cut of mouth and nostril, the large dark liquid eyes, thesnowy forehead, the short clustering wind-tossed hair, the frankcountenance, the refinement in every gesture--all combined to astonishthe good man into admiration. Yet, with all his admiration, he felt alittle afraid of this radiant apparition. Consequently, by the time hehad half decided to advance to her succour, his ward had stepped forwardand forestalled him. 

"Let me help you, Cousin Rosalind, " said Roger. 

She turned on him a look half surprise, half pleasure, and then allowinghim to take cloaks, bags, dog, and all, said--

"Really, papa, you must go and help down in the cabin. It's an awfulchaos, and Tom and Jill are making it ten times worse. Do go. " And shesat down with a gesture of despair on one of the benches, and proceededto adjust her unruly hat. While doing this she looked up at Roger, whostood meekly before her with her belongings. 

"Thanks! Don't mind holding them; put them down anywhere, Roger, anddo, there's a dear boy, go and help father and the others in thathorrid, horrid cabin. "

Roger, more flurried and docile than he had felt himself for a longwhile, dropped the baggage, and thrusting the dog into Armstrong'shands, flew off to obey the behests of his new cousin. 

The young lady now looked up in charming bewilderment at the tutor, whocould not fail to read the question in her eyes, and felt called upon toanswer it. 

"May I introduce myself?" said he. "I am Frank Armstrong, Roger'stutor. "

"I'm so glad, " said she with a little laugh. "I'd imagined you a horridelderly person with a white cravat and tortoise-shell spectacles. It_is_ such a relief!"

And she sighed at the mere recollection of her forebodings. 

"There's no saying what we may become in time, " said Mr Armstrong. 

"I suppose, " said she, eyeing him curiously once more, "you're the othertrustee, or whatever it's called? I hope you and father will get onwell. I can't see what use either of you can be. Roger looks as if hecould take care of himself. Are you awfully fond of him?"

"I am rather, " said the tutor in a voice which quite satisfied hishearer. 

"Heigho!" said she presently, picking up the dog and stroking its ears. "I'm glad this dreadful voyage is over. Mr Armstrong, what do they allthink about all of us coming to Maxfield? If I lived there, I shouldhate it. "

"Mrs Ingleton, I know, is very pleased. "

"Yes, but you men aren't. There'll be fearful rows, I know. I wishwe'd stayed behind in India. It's hateful to be stuck down where youaren't wanted, for every one to vote you a nuisance!"

"I can hardly imagine any one voting _you_ a nuisance, " said MrArmstrong, half-frightened at his own temerity. 

She glanced up with a little threatening of a blaze in her eyes. "Don't!" said she. "That's the sort of thing the silly young gentlemensay on board ship. I don't like it. "

The poor tutor winced as much under this rebuff as if he had been justdetected in a plot to run away with his fair companion; and havingnothing to say in extenuation of his crime, he relapsed into silence. 

Miss Oliphant, apparently unaware of the effect of her little protest, stroked her dog again and said--

"Are you an artist?"

"No; are you?"

"I want to be. I'd give anything to get out of going to Maxfield, andhave a room here in town near the galleries. It will be awful waste oftime in that dull place. "

"Perhaps your father--" began the tutor; but she took him up halfangrily. 

"My father intends us to stay at Maxfield. In fact, you may as wellknow it at once, and let Roger know it too. We're as poor as church-mice, and can't afford to do anything else. Oh, how I wish we hadstopped where we were!" And her voice actually trembled as she said thewords. 

It was an uncomfortable position for Mr Armstrong. Once again hismother-wit failed him, and he watched the little hand as it moved up anddown the dog's back in silence. 

"I tell you this, " continued the young lady, "because tutors aregenerally poor, and you'll understand it. I wish papa understood ithalf as well. I do believe he really enjoys the prospect of going andlanding himself and all of us at that place. "

"You forget that it is by the desire and invitation of the old Squire, "said the tutor. 

"Father might easily have declined. He ought to have. He wasn't likeyou, fond of Roger. He doesn't care--at least I fancy he doesn't--muchabout Roger at all. Oh, I wish I could earn enough to pay for everybite every one of us eats!"

To the tutor's immense relief, at this point Captain Oliphantreappeared, followed by Roger with a boy and little girl. 

The boy was some years the junior of the heir of Maxfield, a rotund, matter-of-fact, jovial-looking lad, sturdy in body, easy in temper, andperhaps by no means brilliant in intellect. The turmoil of debarkationfailed to ruffle him, and the information given him in sundry quartersthat he was the _fons et origo_ of all the confusion in the cabin failedto impress him. Everything that befell Tom Oliphant came in the day'swork, and would probably vanish with the night's sleep. Meanwhile itwas the duty of every one, himself included, to be jolly. So heaccepted his father's chidings and Roger's greetings in equally goodpart; agreed with every word the former said, and gave in his allegianceto the latter with one and the same smile, and thought to himself howjolly to be in England at last, and perhaps some day to see the Oxfordand Cambridge boat-race. 

The little maid who tripped at his side was perhaps ten or eleven--anodd blending of the sister's beauty and alertness with the brother'svigorous contentment. A prophet, versed in such matters, would havepredicted that ten years hence Miss "Jill" Oliphant might seriouslyinterfere with the shape of her elder sister's nose. But as no prophetswere present, only a fogey like Mr Armstrong and an inexperienced boylike Roger, no one concerned themselves about the future, but voted thelittle lady of ten a winsome child. 

"Well, thanks for all _your_ help, " said Tom to his elder sister. "Idon't know what we should have done without her. Eh, Roger?"

"Upon my word, with _you_ in charge down there, " retorted the younglady, "I wouldn't have been safe in that awful place a minute longer. Iwonder you haven't packed up Jill in one of the trunks. "

"Oh, Cousin Roger took care of me, " said Miss Jill demurely. 

"I hope Armstrong did the same to you, Rosalind, " said Roger. "Here, Tom; this is my tutor, Frank Armstrong--a brick. Here, Jill; say how doyou do to Mr Armstrong. "

Jill horrified Mr Armstrong by putting up her face to be kissed. Indeed the poor gentleman as he shook the glass out of his eye and gazeddown at this forward young person in consternation, presented sopitiable a spectacle, that Rosalind, Roger, and Tom all began to laugh. 

"She won't bite, " said Tom reassuringly. 

Mr Armstrong, thus encouraged, took off his hat, and stooping down, kissed the child on the brow, much to that little lady's satisfaction. This important operation performed, Captain Oliphant expressed concernfor Roger's cough, and proposed that his ward should take the girls andhimself to the hotel, while no doubt Mr Armstrong would not mindremaining to help Tom with the luggage. By which excellent arrangementthe party succeeded at last in getting clear of the "Oriana. "

The tutor had his hands full most of that morning Tom Oliphant's idea oflooking after the luggage was to put his hands in his pockets andwhistle pleasantly up and down the upper deck; nor was it till MrArmstrong took him bodily below, and made him point out one by one thefamily properties (among which, by the way, he included several articlesbelonging to other owners), that he could be reduced to business at all. 

Then for half an hour he worked hard; at the end of which time he turnedto his companion with a friendly grin. 

"Thanks awfully, Mr Armstrong. I say, I wonder if you'll be my tutoras well as Frank's? I heard father say something about it! Wouldn't itbe stunning?"

Mr Armstrong gave a qualified assent. 

"I'm not a bit clever, you know, like Rosalind, but I'd like to have atutor awfully. I say, haven't we done enough with these blessed boxes?They'll be all right now. Should we have time to see Christy'sMinstrels on our way to the hotel, do you think? I'd like itfrightfully. "

"My dear boy, " said Mr Armstrong, "if we are to get all the thingsproperly cleared and labelled and sent off to Maxfield, we shall have notime for anything else. If the way you stick to your lessons isanything like the way you stick to this task, I don't envy your tutor. "

This covert threat at once reduced Tom to a sense of discipline, and hemade a gallant effort to secure Mr Armstrong's good opinion. 

The tutor was right. It was well on in the afternoon when they had thebaggage finally disposed of, and were free to follow to the hotel. 

Here they found, instead of the party they expected, a hurriedlyscrawled line from Roger. 

"Dear Armstrong, --

"Oliphant has taken it into his head to go down to Maxfield at once bythe two train. So we are starting. I'm sorry he can't wait, so as allto go together. If you are back in time to come by the evening train, do come. If not, first train in the morning. 

"Yours ever, "R. I. "

It was too late to get a train that day; so Mr Armstrong, muchdisgusted, had to make up his mind to remain. Tom, on the contrary, wasdelighted, and proposed twenty different plans for spending the evening, which finally resolved themselves into the coveted visit to Christy'sMinstrels. 

The tutor, in no very festive humour, allowed himself to be overborne bythe eagerness of his young companion, and found himself in due timejammed into a seat in a very hot hall, listening to the verymiscellaneous performance of the coloured gentlemen who "never performout of London. "

The tutor, who had some ideas of his own on the subject of music, listened very patiently, sometimes pleased, sometimes distressed, andalways conscious of the enthusiastic delight of his companion, whoseunaffected comments formed to him the most amusing part of theentertainment. 

"Isn't that, stunning?"

"Thanks awfully, Mr Armstrong, for bringing me. "

"Hooray! Bones again!"

"I say, I'm looking forward to the break-down; ain't you?" and so on. 

Whatever Mr Armstrong's anticipations may have been as to the raptureof the coming "break-down, " he contained himself admirably, and with hisglass inquiringly stuck in his eye, listened attentively to all thatwent on, and occasionally speculated as to how Miss Rosalind Oliphantwas enjoying her visit to Maxfield. 

The programme was half over, and Tom was repairing the ravages of naturewith a bun, when Mr Armstrong became suddenly aware of a person in therow but one in front looking round fixedly in his direction. 

To judge by the close-cropped, erect hair and stubbly chin of thissomewhat disreputable-looking individual, he was a foreigner; and whenpresently, catching the tutor's eye, he began to indulge in pantomimicgestures of recognition, it was safe to guess he was a Frenchman. 

"Who's that chap nodding to you?" said Tom with his mouth full. "Is hetipsy?"

"He lays himself open to the suspicion, " said Mr Armstrong slowly. "Atany rate, as I vote we go put and get some fresh air, he will have tofind some one else to make faces at. Come along. "

Tom did not at all like risking his seat, and particularly charged thelady next to him to preserve it from invasion at the risk of her life. 

Then wondering a little at Mr Armstrong's impatience to reach the freshair, he followed him out. 

The Frenchman witnessed the proceeding with some little disappointment, and sat craning his neck in the direction in which they had gone forsome minutes. Then, as if moved by a similar yearning for fresh air, hetoo left his seat and went out. 

The band was beginning to play as he did so, and most of the loitererswere crowding back for the second part. 

"You go in; I'll come directly, " said Mr Armstrong to the boy. 

Tom needed no second invitation, and a moment later had forgotteneverything in the delightful prelude to the "break-down. " He did noteven observe that Mr Armstrong had not returned to his seat. 

"Well, Gustav, " said that gentleman in French as the foreignerapproached him, where he waited in the outer lobby. 

"_Eh bien, man cher_, " replied the other, "'ow 'appy I am to see you. Ican speak ze Englise foine, _n'est ce pas_?"

"What are you doing in London?"

"I am vaiter, _garcon_ at ze private hotel. 'Zey give me foods anddrinks and one black coat, but not no vage. _Oh, mon ami_, it is ver'ver' 'ard. "

"And the old man?"

"_Ah, helas_! he is ver' ver' ill. He vill die next week. _Moi_, I cannot to him go; and Marie, she write me she must leave Paris this day toher duties. It is sad for the poor old _pere_ to die with not vonfriend to 'old 'is 'and. Ah! if ze petite Francoise yet lived, _mapauvre enfant_, she would stay and--"

"Stop!" said the tutor imperatively. "Is he still in the old place?"

"_Helas_, non! you make ze joke, you. Ve are ver' ver' poor, and 'aveno homes. _Mon pere_, he is to the hopital. Thank 'eaven, they 'avezere give 'im ze bed to die. "

"Which hospital is he at?" said the tutor. 

"De Saint Luc. "

"I will see him. "

The Frenchman gave a little hysterical laugh; then, with tears in hiseyes, he seized the hand of the Englishman and wrung it rapturously. 

"_Oh, mon ami, mon cher ami_!" cried he, "'eaven will bless you. I am'appy that you say that. You vill see 'im? Yes? You vill 'old 'is'and ven he do die? He sall have one friend to kiss his poor _front_?Oh, I am content; I am gay. "

How long he would have gone on thus it is hard to say. Mr Armstrongcut short the scene rather abruptly. 

"There, there!" said he. "Good-bye, Gustav. I shall go very soon, andwill come and see you when I return. " And he went back to theperformance. 

"You've missed it!" said Tom, as he dropped into his seat. "It was thefinest `break-down' you ever saw! That one next but one to Bones keptit up best. We couldn't get an encore out of them. Never mind; perhapsthey'll have another to finish up. There's lot's more in theprogramme. "

Mr Armstrong watched it all with the same critical interest as before, but his mind was far away. It wandered to the foreign city, to thegaunt pauper hospital there, to a little low bed where lay an old dyingfriendless man, tossing and moaning for the laggard death to give himrest. He saw nothing of what went on before him; he felt none of themerry boy's nudges at his side; he even forgot Roger and Maxfield. 

The performance was over at last. 

"Well, that _was_ a jolly spree! I wish it was coming all over again, "chirped the boy. "Oh, thank you awfully, Mr Armstrong, for bringingme. Did you like it too? That last break-down wasn't up to the other, but I'm glad you've seen one of them, at any rate. "

As they crowded out, Mr Armstrong was surprised and a little vexed tosee Gustav still hanging about the lobby waiting for him. He droppedbehind the boy for a moment and beckoned him. 

"Well, Gustav?" said he impatiently. 

"Ah, _mon ami_, " said the Frenchman, putting a little bunch of earlyviolets into the tutor's hands, "vill you give 'im zese from me? 'Tisall I can send. But he will love zem for the sake of me and ze littleFrancoise. Adieu, adieu, _mon cher ami_. "

It took not a minute; but in that time Tom had wandered serenely on, never dreaming that his protector was not close at his heels. Nor didhe discover his mistake till he found himself half-way up Piccadilly, enlarging to a stranger at his side on the excellence of the evening'sperformance. Then he looked round and missed his companion. Thepavement was crowded with wayfarers of all sorts, some pressing one way, some another. Among them all the boy could not discover the stalwartform of Mr Armstrong. He pushed back to the hall, but he was notthere. He followed one or two figures that looked like his; but theywere strangers all. Then he returned up the street at a run, hoping toovertake him; but in vain. 

He knew nothing of London; he did not even know the name of the hotel;he had no money in his pocket. 

He was, in short, lost. 

As for Mr Armstrong, not seeing his charge at the door, he had startedto run in the direction of the hotel, which was the opposite directionto that taken by Tom. Seeing no sign of the prodigal, he too returnedto the hall, just after Tom had started a second time on the contrarytack; and so for an hour these two played hide and seek; sometimesalmost within reach of one another; at others, with the whole length ofthe street between them. 

At last the crowd on the pavement thinned, and the tutor, sorelychagrined, started off to the hotel, on the chance of the boy havingturned up there. No Tom was there. Tom, in fact, was at that momentdebating somewhere about a mile and a half away whether he should nottry to make his way to the "Oriana" at the Docks, and remain quietlythere till claimed. What a joke it would all be when he _was_ found!What an adventure for his first night in London!

It was not very easy even for Tom Oliphant to derive much amusement fromthese philosophical reflections, and he looked about him rather dismallyfor some one of whom to inquire his way. 

A seedy-looking person was standing under a lamppost hard by, trying tolight a cigarette in the wind. Tom decided to tackle him. 

"Please can you tell me the way to the Docks where the P and O steamerscome in?" said he. 

The man let drop his match and stared at the boy. 

"Vy, " said he with an odd shrug, "that is some long walks from here. _Mais, comment_. Vas you not at ze Christy Minstrel to-night viz a nicegentleman?"

"Rather!" said the boy. "Were you there? I say, wasn't it a clippingturn out? I did like it, especially the break-down. I say, I'm lost. The fellow who was looking after me has lost me. "

"Oh, you 'ave lost 'im. I am 'appy you to find. You sall not valk toze Dock, no. I sall give you sleeps at ze hotel, and to-morrow you sallfind zat dear gentleman. Come wiz me. "

"Oh, but you know, he'll be looking for me; besides, I've got no tin. Father forgot to leave me any. I'd better go to the Docks, I say. "

"You sall not. Zey will be all shut fast zere. No, my dear friend, yousall come sleep at my hotel, and you sall have nothings to pay. It willbe all right. I would die for to help ze friend of my friend. "

"Is Mr Armstrong a friend of yours?" asked the boy. "I thought youwere only cheeking him that time in the Hall. Oh, all right, if youknow him. Thanks awfully. "

Gustav, as delighted as a cat who has found her kitten, led the boy offjubilantly to his third-rate hotel off the Strand, taking theprecaution, as he passed, to leave word at the Hall that if a gentlemancalled who had lost a boy, he should be told where he would find him. 

He smuggled Tom up to his own garret, and made him royally welcome withthree-quarters of his scanty supper and the whole of his narrow bed, sleeping himself on the floor cheerfully for the sake of the _cher ami_who had that night promised to go to Paris to hold the hand of his dyingfather. 

About three in the morning there was a loud ringing of the bell and asound of steps and voices on the stairs, and presently Mr Armstrongentered the room. 

Gustav sprang up with his finger on his lips, pointing to the sleepingboy. 

"Oh, _mon ami_, " whispered he, "'ow 'appy I am you 'ave found 'im. ButI keep him ver' safe. I love to do it, for you are ver' good to me andthe _pauvre pere_. He sall rest here till to-day, vile you (helas! thatI have no two beds to offer you), you sall take one in ze hotel, and atmorning we sall all be 'appy together. "

Mr Armstrong grimly accepted this proposal, and took a room for thenight at Gustav's hotel. 

The next morning, scarcely waiting to take breakfast or bid anotheradieu to his grateful friend, he hurried the genial Tom, who had enjoyedhimself extremely, to the station, and carried him down by express trainto Maxfield. 

CHAPTER FIVE. 

A CHURCHYARD COUGH. 

When Mr Armstrong with his jovial charge arrived about midday atMaxfield, he was struck with the transformation scene which had takenplace since he quitted it gloomily a day or two before. 

The house was the same, the furniture was untouched, the ordinarydomestic routine appeared to be unaltered, but a sense of something newpervaded the place which he could interpret only by the one word--Oliphant. 

The captain had made a touching entry--full of sympathy, full ofaffection, full of a desire to spare his dear cousin all business worry, full of the responsibility that was on him to take charge of the dearfatherless boy, full of that calm sense of duty which enables a man toassert himself on all occasions for the good of those committed to hiscare. As for his charming daughters, they had floated majestically intotheir quarters--Miss Rosalind a trifle defiantly, making no secret ofher dislike of the whole business; Miss Jill merrily, delighted with thenovelty and beauty of this new home, so much more to her mind than thebarrack home in India. And Roger, despite all his sinisteranticipations, found himself tolerant already of the new guardian, andmore than tolerant of his _suite_. 

For somehow his pulses had taken to beating a little quicker sinceyesterday, and when half a dozen times that evening he had heard asummons down the landing to come and hang this picture, or like a dearboy unfasten that strap, or like an angel come and make himselfagreeable, unless he intended his cousins to sit by themselves all theevening as penance for coming where they were not wanted, --at all suchsummonses Roger Ingleton had experienced quite a novel sensation ofnervousness and awkwardness, which contributed to make him veryuncomfortable. 

"Why, " said he, as he and his tutor greeted one another again in MrArmstrong's room, "why, it seems ages since I saw you, and yet it's onlyyesterday. I wish we could all have come down together. Do you know, Armstrong, I half fancy it's not going to be as awful as I expected. "

"That's all right, " said Mr Armstrong, who had already begun toentertain a contrary impression. 

"Oliphant seems civilly disposed, and not inclined to interfere; and thegirls--well they seem harmless enough. How do you like Tom?"

"Tom's a nice, quiet, business-like boy, " said the tutor with a grin. "I'll tell you more about him soon, but at present I have no time. Imust catch the four o'clock train back to London. "

"What! What ever for?" exclaimed Roger, with falling face. 

"Urgent private affairs. I shall be away perhaps a week, " said MrArmstrong shortly, in a tone which discouraged Roger from making furtherinquiries. 

"I'm awfully sorry, " said he; "I shall miss you specially just now. "

"If I could have taken any other time, I would, " said the tutor, busilythrowing his things into his bag all the time; "but I am going to adeath-bed. "

"Oh, Armstrong, I'm so sorry. Is it a relation?"

"As I regard relations, yes. Now I must go and make my apologies toyour mother. I'll come and see you before I go. "

He found the lady sitting in the library in consultation with CaptainOliphant. The table was spread with the late Squire's papers anddocuments, concerning which the Captain was evincing considerableinterest. 

The tutor glared a little through his glass at the spectacle of thisindustry, and disposing of his co-trustee's greeting with a half nod, accosted Mrs Ingleton. 

"I must ask you to excuse me for a few days, Mrs Ingleton. I have justreceived news which render a journey necessary. "

"Indeed!" said Captain Oliphant, looking up from his papers. "I amafraid, Mr Armstrong, we must ask you to postpone it, as there are agood many business matters of importance to be gone into, which willrequire the attention of all the trustees. It is an inconvenient timeto seek for leave of absence. "

The tutor's mouth stiffened ominously. 

"You take unnecessary interest in my affairs, sir. I shall be at yourservice on my return. Mrs Ingleton, I am sorry for this interruptionin Roger's studies. It shall be as brief as I can make it. "

"Oh, of course, Mr Armstrong, " said the lady, "I hope it is nothingserious. We shall be glad to have you back to consult about things;that is all Captain Oliphant means, I'm sure. "

The tutor bowed. 

"I really hope, " said Captain Oliphant blandly, "Mr Armstrong willappreciate my desire to cooperate harmoniously in the sacred trust laidupon us all by the dying wish of our dear friend. "

"I have no wish to do anything else, sir, " said the tutor shortly, "ifyou will allow me. Good-bye, Mrs Ingleton. "

Roger was a good deal concerned to notice the grim cloud on his friend'sface, when he returned for a moment to his room for his bag. He knewhim too well to ask questions, but made up for his silence by the warmthof his farewell. 

"Come back soon, Armstrong; it will be awfully slow while you're away. Let's carry your bag down-stairs. "

As they passed the end of the lobby, a certain door chanced to open, andArmstrong caught a vision of an easel and a fair head beyond, and beyondthat a mantelpiece decorated with all sorts of Oriental and feminineknick-knacks. He might have observed more had his glass been up, andhad he not been eagerly accosted by Miss Jill, who just then was runningout of the room. 

"Mr Armstrong! Mr Armstrong!" shouted she in glee. "Rosalind, he'scome back; here he is!"

And without more ado she caught the embarrassed tutor by the arm anddemanded a kiss. He compromised feebly by patting her head, whereatMiss Jill pouted. 

"You're more unkind than yesterday, " she said; "you kissed me then. "

"You shouldn't ask Mr Armstrong to do horrid things, " said MissRosalind, coming to the door. 

The tutor, very hot and flurried, replied to this cruel challenge bysaluting the little tyrant and bowing to her sister. 

"Won't you come in and see the studio?" said the latter. "It's a littleless dreadful than yesterday, thanks to Roger. What are you carryingthat bag for, Roger?"

"Armstrong's going up to town for a few days. "

"How horrid!" said Miss Rosalind, with vexation in her voice; "justwhile Jill and I are feeling so lonely, cooped up here like nuns, withnot a soul to talk to, and knowing we're in everybody's way. "

"Armstrong has a sad enough reason for going, " said Roger; "but I say, it's not very complimentary to me to say you've not a soul to talk to. "

The half-jesting petulance in Rosalind's face had given place to a lookalmost of pain as she held out her hand. 

"Good-bye, Mr Armstrong, " said she. "I didn't know you were introuble. "

"It _will_ be jolly when you come home, " chimed in Jill. 

Somehow in Mr Armstrong's ears, as he whirled along to town thatafternoon, those two pretty farewells rang continuous changes. When, atevening, he took his seat in the Dover express, they still followed him, now in solos, now in duet, now in restless fugue. On the steamer theyrose and fell with the uneasy waves and played in the whistling wind. As he sped towards Paris, past the acacia hedges and poplar avenues, among foreign scenes, amidst the chatter of foreign tongues, surroundedby foreign faces, he still caught the sound of those two distantvoices--one quiet and low, the other gay and piping; and even when, atlast, he dropped asleep and forgot everything else, they joined in withthe rattle of the rail to give him his lullaby. Such are the freaks ofwhich a sensitive musical ear is often the victim. 

At Maxfield, meanwhile, he remained in the minds of one or two of theinmates. 

The two young ladies, assisted by their cousin, and genially obstructedby their easy-going brother, proceeded seriously in the task of adorningthe studio; now and then speculating about the absent tutor, and now andthen feeling very dejected and lonely. Roger did his best to enliventhe evening and make his visitors feel at home. But although Tom andJill readily consented to be comforted, Miss Rosalind as stubbornlyrefused, and protested a score of times that the cabin of the "Oriana"itself was preferable to the misery of being condemned, as she termedit, to eat her head off in this dismal place. She was sorry for MrArmstrong, but she was vexed too that he should go off the very firstday after her arrival, and leave her to fight her battles alone. Afterthat talk on the steamer, she had, in her own mind, reckoned on him asan ally, and it disappointed her not to find him at her bidding afterall. 

But she was not the only person whose mind was exercised by the tutor'sabrupt exodus. 

Captain Oliphant felt decidedly hurt by the manner of his going. Itargued a lack of appreciation of the newly arrived trustee's position inthe household on which he had hardly calculated; and it bespoke a spiritof independence in the tutor himself, which his colleague could not butregard as unpromising. Indeed, when, after the day's labours, CaptainOliphant sought the seclusion of his own apartment, this amiable, pleasant-spoken gentleman grew quite warm with himself. 

"Who is this grandee?" he asked himself. "A man hired at a few pounds ayear and fed at the Maxfield table, in order to help the heir to alittle quite unnecessary knowledge of the ancient classics and modernsciences. What was the old dotard, "--the old dotard, by the way, wasCaptain Oliphant's private manner of referring to the lamented "dearone, " whose name so often trembled on his lips in public, --"what was theold dotard thinking about? At any rate, I should like to know a littlemore about the fellow myself. "

With this laudable intention he questioned Mrs Ingleton next morning. 

"He is a good friend to dear Roger, " said the mother. "Roger is devotedto him. I am sure you will get to like him, Edward. He is perhaps alittle odd in his manner, but he has a good heart. "

This was about all Mrs Ingleton knew, except that he was a Universityman and an accomplished musician. 

Captain Oliphant was not much enlightened by this description. He satdown, and for the third time carefully read over the "dear one's" will. 

"I think, " said he at lunch-time, "I will stroll over to Yeld thisafternoon and see Mr Pottinger. Roger, will you walk with me? A walkwould do you good. You are looking pale, my boy. "

"Oh, I'm all right, " said Roger, whose cough, however, was stillobstinate. "I'll come with pleasure. "

A walk of five miles on a damp afternoon through drenched country lanesmay be a good specific for a cough in India, but in England itoccasionally fails in this respect. Roger was wet through when hereached Yeld. 

"I shall not be long, " said the Captain as they reached the attorney'sdoor. "Don't catch cold, there's a good fellow. Remember your healthis very precious. "

Roger undertook to act on this considerate advice, and occupied his timeof waiting by strolling up and down the High Street in the rain, payinga call here and there at one or two shops, and finally dropping in tosee his friend Dr Brandram. 

The Captain meanwhile was having an interesting chat with the attorney. 

After introducing himself and receiving the suitable congratulations, hesaid--

"Mr Ingleton's will, Mr Pottinger, so far as I can understand it, seems fairly simple, and I am ready and anxious to perform my part ofits provisions. "

"Yes. You see, after all, it is only a matter of two years' trouble. As soon as Master Roger comes of age you will be released. "

"Unless, " says the Captain, laughing, "he marries, becomes mad, or goesto prison, isn't that it? What a curious proviso!"

"It is. The old Squire had his peculiarities, like most of us. He sethis heart on this boy turning out well. "

"Ah! I presume this tutor, Mr Armstrong, has very high qualifications, since so much depends on him. "

"Of that I can't say, Captain Oliphant. To tell you the truth, I neverquite understood that appointment. But doubtless the Squire knew best. "

"Doubtless. He must have had a very high opinion of him to associatehim with Mrs Ingleton and me in the guardianship. I take it, by theway, that hardly extends beyond his present duties as tutor. "

"That's just it, " said Mr Pottinger. "According to the will, he hasthe right to participate in every action taken by the other trustees, either as regards the boy, or the estate, or anything else. "

"How very singular! You don't mean to say that he is to be consulted inmatters of finance or the management of the property?"

"Technically, yes--if he claims it. I imagine, however, he is hardlyaware of this, and I am not inclined to urge him to claim it. I shouldbe sorry to give you an unfavourable impression, Captain Oliphant, but Ido not like this Mr Armstrong. "

"He appears to be well thought of at Maxfield, " said the Captain. 

"My private opinion is--but you must not let it influence you--that heis somewhat of an adventurer. I know nothing of his antecedents. "

"Indeed! not even where he lives?"

"No; the Squire was reticent on the matter. He told me he had goodrecommendations with him, and that he was an Oxford man. "

"Surely that should be satisfactory. I hope we shall find him notdifficult to get on with, after all. We shall have to wait a week orso, however, before putting the question to the test, as he has justgone off rather abruptly, and at this particular time ratherinopportunely, on a journey, for what object I do not know. "

"Humph!" said the attorney. "I do not like mysteries. However, I trustit will be as you say. "

Dr Brandram, when presently the Captain called in for his ward, was inby no means a good temper. 

"I have been blowing Roger up sky-high, " said he, puffing his smokerather viciously in the Captain's direction, "for behaving like alunatic. The idea of his coming out and getting himself wet throughwith this cold upon him. "

"Dear, dear!" said the Captain; "has he got wet through? Why, my dearboy, what did I tell you?"

"You shouldn't have let him come, " said the doctor bluntly. "He's nobusiness to play tricks with himself. "

"Really, doctor, " said Roger, laughing and coughing alternately, "I'mnot a baby. "

"You're worse, " said the doctor severely. "Don't let it happen again. You must go home in a fly; I won't allow you to walk. Armstrongwouldn't have let you do it. "

It grated on the Captain's nerves to hear the tutor thus quoted in whatseemed to be a reflection on himself. 

"Roger, my boy, " said he, "you are fortunate to have somebody to lookwell after you. I quite agree with the doctor; we must drive home. Ihope your things are dry. "

"He's made me change everything I had on, " said Roger. 

"Quite right--quite right!"

The doctor took an opportunity before the fly arrived of talking to theCaptain seriously about his ward's health. 

"He's not robust, you can see that yourself, " said he, "and he won'ttake care of himself, that's equally evident. You must make him do it, or I won't answer for the consequences. "

The Captain laughed pleasantly. "My duties grow on me apace, " said he. "I have come over from India to look after his morals, his estate, hiseducation, and now I find I must add to them the oversight of--"

"Of his flannels. Certainly; see they are well aired, that's moreimportant than any of the others. Good-bye!"

The Maxfield household was a dismal one that evening. Mrs Ingleton indistress had prevailed on Roger to go to bed. Miss Rosalind, defraudedin one day of her two allies, sulked in a dignified way in her own room, and visited her displeasure with the world in general on poor Jill, whoconsoled herself by beginning a letter to her "dear Mr Armstrong. "Tom, having wandered joyously over the whole house, making friends witheverybody and admiring everything, was engaged in the feverishoccupation of trying to find his stamp album, which he had left behindin India. 

The only serene member of the party was Captain Oliphant, who in thearm-chair of the library smoked an excellent cigar and ruminated onthings at large. 

"Poor lad!" said he to himself, "great pity he's so delicate. Not atall a pleasant cough--quite a churchyard tone about it. Tut! tut! I'mnot favourably impressed with that doctor; an officious bumpkin, heseems to me. And this Armstrong--I should really like to know a littlemore about him. Pottinger was decidedly of my way of thinking. Not anice fellow at all, Armstrong. Wrong sort of companion for Roger. Poorfellow! how he's coughing to-night. "

And this kindly soul actually laid down his cigar and went out into thepassage to listen. 

"Shocking cough, " said he as he returned and relit his cigar. Then hetook out a document from his pocket--a copy of the will, in fact--andread it again. Which done, he relapsed into genial meditation onesmore. 

Presently his kindly feelings prompted him to pay his ward a visit. 

"Well, my boy, how are you? Better, I hope. "

"Oh, yes, " said Roger, coughing; "it's only a cold in my head. I'llsoon be all right. I'm awfully sorry to desert the girls and Tom, tellthem. "

"Nothing I can do for you, is there?"

"Thanks very much. I'm all right. I shall get to sleep pretty soon. Good night, Cousin Edward. "

"Good night, dear boy. Another time you must take better care ofyourself. Remember your life is precious to us all. "

With these affectionate words Captain Oliphant left the room, candle inhand. As he passed his daughter's boudoir he looked in. It was empty. The young ladies had long since taken refuge in their bedroom. All thehouse, in fact, except Captain Oliphant, had done the same. 

That gentleman, as he passed another door which stood half open, couldnot resist a friendly impulse to peep in. It was a snug room, with apiano in one corner, and foils, boxing gloves, Oxford prints, and othertokens of a bachelor proprietorship displayed on the walls. The tablewas littered with classical exercises, music scores, and letters. Acollege boating-jacket hung behind the door, and one or two prize-goblets decorated the mantelpiece. 

Captain Oliphant displayed a genial interest in everything. He read theinscriptions on the goblets, glanced casually through the papers, readthe addresses on a few of the letters, and generally took stock of theapartment. Of course, like an honourable gentleman, he disturbednothing, and presently, distressed by a sudden fit of coughing from thedirection of his ward's room, he hastily stepped out into the lobbyagain and made his way back to the library. 

Before he went to bed this methodical person committed three severalmatters to paper. In his memorandum-book he wrote the name of a certaincollege at Oxford, and a date, corresponding, oddly enough, to the nameand date on one of the goblets in Mr Armstrong's room. 

That done, he scrawled a post card to Dr Brandram, requesting him tocall and see Roger, whose cough was still a little troublesome. 

After that, he pulled out of his pocket and read with a somewhat painedexpression a letter he had received the day before by the Indian mail. It was gather long, but the passage which pained Captain Oliphantparticularly ran thus:--

 "The trouble about the mess accounts is not blown over yet. I have done what I can for you. I hope you will make it unnecessary for me to enter into details with the parties chiefly interested in that affair. It depends pretty much on what you are able to tell me, whether I can give you the time you mention in your last. You will consult your own interests best by being quite square, " and so on. 

The expression which Captain Oliphant mentally applied to the writer ashe re-read this pleasant passage was not wholly flattering, and hiscountenance, as I have said, bore traces of considerable pain. However, after a little meditation it cleared somewhat, and he wrote:--

 "It seems to me a pity you should take up a position which can only end in trouble all round. You know how things stand, and how impossible it is to hasten matters. At the present moment there seems every probability of my being able to discharge all my accounts--yours among them--considerably earlier than the time first mentioned. It is worth your while, under the circumstances, reconsidering what, you must allow me to say, is a preposterous claim for interest. Of course, if you charge me for the full term, I have very little inducement to settle up sooner. Turn it over, like a sensible man, and believe me, meanwhile, "Yours truly, "E. O. 

 "_P. S_. --I enclose a copy of the clauses of the will most likely to interest you. I am sorry to say my ward is in very bad--I might say seriously bad--health. He has a constitutional complaint, which, I greatly fear, will make this winter a most anxious time to us all. "

After this, Captain Oliphant soothed himself down with a cigarette, andspent a little time in admiring contemplation of an excellent portraitof Mrs Ingleton on the wall. Finally, he went cheerfully to bed. 

CHAPTER SIX. 

A CASE OF EVICTION. 

A week passed and Mr Armstrong did not return. By the end of that timeMiss Rosalind Oliphant, for better or worse, had settled down into hernew quarters, and made herself as much at home as a fair Bohemian can doanywhere. She still resented the fate which brought her to Maxfield atall, and annoyed her father constantly by casting their dependence onthe hospitality of the place in his teeth. 

"I wish you had some business, father, " said she, "so that we could payour way. I don't suppose my pictures will ever sell, but every penny Iearn shall go to Roger. Couldn't we go and live in the lodge, somewherewhere we can--"

"Rosalind, " said her father, "you vex me by talking like a child. Afterthe education I have tried to provide for you, I had a right to hope youwould at least regulate your tongue by a little common-sense. Do younot know that I have given up my profession, everything, in order tocome to do my duty here?"

"I wish you hadn't, " said the girl doggedly; "it would have been so easyto decline the trust and remain independent. It's awful to think we'venothing to live on but what we get out of Roger's money. "

"Foolish girl, " said her father with a forced laugh, "you are adelightful specimen of a woman's incapacity to understand the veryrudiments of business. Why, you absurd child, old Roger Ingleton's willbequeathed me £300 a year for acting as the boy's guardian. "

"Yes, for two years. And Roger would have been all that richer if you'ddeclined. I'm sure his mother and Mr Armstrong are plenty to lookafter him. I'd have liked you so much better, dear father, if you'dstayed in the army. "

"I'm afraid, my poor girl, it is useless to argue with you. When you doget a wrong idea into your head, nothing will induce you to part withit, even if it involves an injustice to your poor father. "

"Father, " said she, "you know it is because I love you and--"

"Enough, " said he rather sternly. "I know you mean well. "

And he went. 

At the door, however, he returned and said--

"By the way, Rosalind, I must mention one matter; not for discussion, but as my express wish. You named Mr Armstrong just now. I desirethat you hold no communication with him. I have reason for knowing heis not a desirable person at all. "

"If so, you had better take us away from here, " said Rosalind, flushing. "You've no right to let us stay. "

"Silence, miss, and bear in mind what I tell you. Do you understand?"

Rosalind had taken up her brush and was painting furiously at herpicture. 

Captain Oliphant having waited a minute for an answer and getting none, stalked out of the room a model of parental anguish. As for MissRosalind, she painted away for a quarter of an hour, and then said toherself--

"Is he?"

With which profound inquiry she laid down her brush and went to visither invalid cousin. 

Roger was up, though still coughing, and ensconced in his study. 

"How jolly of you to come!" said he. 

"I came because I'd nothing else to do, " said she, "I'm not jolly atall. "

"Why, what's the row?"

"Can't you guess? Don't you know that I owe you already for a week'sboard and lodgings and haven't earned sixpence to pay you. "

"I shall put you in the county court, " said Roger solemnly. 

"It's no joke to me, " said she. 

"I know it isn't, and I wish to goodness I could help you out. By theway, though, " added he, jumping up from his chair, "I've got it. "

"Don't, " said she; "you'll only start the cough. What have you got? Anidea?"

"Yes. Rosalind, do you know I'm going to get some painting-lessons?"

"Where? Oh, I wish I could afford some too. Is there any one near herewho teaches?"

"Yes. Some one who's just starting. A rather jolly girl, only she hasan awful temper; and I'm afraid, when she sees what a poor hand I make, she'll have no patience with me. "

Rosalind looked at him steadily, and then smiled. 

"How nice of you! May I really try? I'll teach you all I know. "

"Will you promise to be nice, and never to fly out at me?"

"No, I'll promise nothing of the sort. But if you learn well, I'll bevery proud. "

"And your terms?"

She looked at him again. 

"Would a shilling an hour be an awful lot?"

"No. It's very moderate. I accept the terms. I'll begin to-day. "

This satisfactory bargain being concluded. Miss Rosalind inquired howher new pupil's cold was. 

"Nearly all right. I'm glad to have got rid of it before Armstrongcomes back. "

"When will that be?"

"I don't know. He hasn't written a line. I hope he'll come soon. "

"Are you awfully fond of him!" asked Rosalind. 

"Rather, " replied the boy. 

"That's exactly what he said when I asked him if he was fond of you. "

"Odd, " said Roger with a laugh. "But, I say, what do you think of myden? Isn't it rather snug?"

"I like one of the pictures, " said Rosalind, pointing to a certainportrait on the mantelpiece. 

"I'm awfully glad, " said Roger. "Do you know who it is?"

"No. "

"A brother of mine who died long before I was born. "

Rosalind took the picture in her hands and carried it to the window. The scrutiny lasted some minutes. Then she replaced it on the chimney-piece. 

"Well, " said Roger, "do you like him?"

"Yes, I do. "

"Aren't you a little afraid of him, too?"

"Not a bit. He looks like a hero. "

Roger sighed. 

"I'm glad there's one in the family, " said he. 

"Why not two? I say, will your tutor mind your having painting-lessonsof me?"

"Mind? Not he. I shouldn't be surprised if he wants to have some too. "

Rosalind laughed. 

"That would be too terrible, " said she. "But I must go now. Will youlend me this picture for a little? I'd like to look at it again. "

Roger laughed. 

"Oh yes, if you'll promise not to fall in love with him for good. "

When Roger presented himself at the appointed hour in his cousin'sstudio, he found that young lady very much in earnest and not at alldisposed to regard her new functions as a jest. Roger, who had comeexpecting to be amused, found himself ignominiously set down at a tablebeside the amenable Tom (who had been coerced into joining the class)and directed to copy a very elementary representation of a gable of acottage which the instructress had set up on the easel. Six times washe compelled to tackle this simple object before his copy was pronouncedpassable; and until that Rosalind sternly discouraged all conversationor inattention. 

"Really, Roger, " said she, when at last he meekly submitted his finalcopy, "for a boy of your age you are an uncommonly rough hand. Tom is amuch more promising pupil than you. "

"I haven't promised you a bob an hour, though, " rejoined that not-to-be-flattered genius, beginning to whistle. 

"Silence, sir!" said Miss Rosalind, stamping her little foot withsomething like temper; "as long as you are in my class you must do as Itell you. "

Here Roger protested. 

"You're rather strict, " said he. "I don't mind working hard andattending to all you say, but I vote we enjoy ourselves too--all threeof us. "

"You mean, " said Rosalind petulantly, "that you come here to play, whileI try to work. "

"No, I don't. I come to do both, and I want you to, as well. "

"Very well then, I withdraw from my engagement, " said the young lady, with an ominous flush; "we don't agree about art. Unless you can giveyourself up to it while you are about it, it's not meant for you--and--and I'm very sorry indeed I made such a stupid mistake as to think youmeant what you said when you told me you wanted to learn. "

And she took the copy down from the easel. 

"Look here, Rosalind, " said Roger, in unusual perturbation, "I'm sosorry. You're quite right. Of course one can't do two things at once. I'll--"

"You're a dear boy, as I've said before, " said Miss Oliphant, brightening up suddenly and accepting her victory serenely. "Now pleaseboth of you draw the picture again from memory as exactly as you can. "

"What's the long and short of it all?" presently whispered Tom, who hadbeen supremely indifferent to the argument. "Is it larks or no larks?"

"Shut up!--that's what it is, " said Roger. 

"All right; thanks, " said Tom contentedly. 

And for a quarter of an hour more the two worked steadily and silently, the only sound in the room being the scratching of their pencils andRosalind's occasional terse criticisms over their shoulders. 

This little incident opened Roger's eyes considerably. He wasastonished at himself afterwards for taking his rebuff so meekly, andsubmitting to what, after all, was rather a preposterous regulation. Hewas aware that he would not have submitted to any one but Rosalind, orpossibly Armstrong. Why he should do so to her he did not particularlyknow; unless it was because he felt it would be pleasanter on the wholeto have her as a friend than as a foe. 

When, three days later, Mr Armstrong neither appeared nor communicatedwith any member of the household, the uneasiness which his prolongedabsence caused found expression in several different ways. Miss Jillcried in a corner; Miss Rosalind tossed her head and painted fiercely;Roger, already pulled down with a return of his cough, moped in his ownroom; while his mother, impressed by the growing indignation of hercousin, began to work herself into a mild state of wrath. Tom alone wasserene. 

"I expect he's having a jolly time with that French chap, " hevolunteered at the family dinner. 

"With whom?" inquired his father pricking his ears. 

"Oh, a chum of his; not half a bad sort of cove, only he dropped all his`h's. ' He turned up at Christy's, you know, but missed the best break-down, while he and Mr Armstrong were hob-nobbing outside. I saw it, though. It was prime. "

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" demanded Captain Oliphant. 

"I didn't know you'd care about it, " said his son in mild surprise. "You see, it was this way. The fellow had wooden shoes on, and when themusic began slow he began a shuffle, and gradually put on the pace tillyou couldn't tell one foot from the other. "

Here Miss Rosalind broke into a derisive laugh. 

"Really, Tom, " said she, "you are too clever. However did you guessthat we were all dying to hear how a break-down is danced?"

"I didn't till father said so. "

Here Roger and the two young ladies laughed again; whereat Tom, concluding he had said something good unawares, laughed too, and thoughtto himself how jolly it is to be clever and keep the table at a roar. 

In private Captain Oliphant pursued the subject of Gustav and hisrelations (apart from their mutual connexion with the break-down) withthe Maxfield tutor. 

He received very little satisfaction from his inquiry. Tom was so fullof his main topic that the other events of that memorable evening intown occupied but a secondary place in his memory. 

He recollected Gustav as a good-natured foreigner whom Armstrong calledby his Christian name, and who talked French in return. He could notremember where he lived, except that it was ten minutes' walk fromChristy's Minstrels; nor had he the slightest idea what the two mentalked about, except that Armstrong had promised to hold somebody'shand, and that Gustav had tried to kiss him by way of recompense. 

Captain Oliphant chose to take a very serious view of this disclosure. It fitted in exactly with his theory that the tutor was an adventurer of"shady antecedents, " and, as such, an undesirable companion for the late"dear one's" orphan-boy. 

"I should not feel I was doing my duty, " said he to Mr Pottinger thatafternoon, "if I were not to follow this up. We don't know whom we haveto deal with; and the fact of Mr Ingleton having confided in himreally, you know, weighs very little with me; old men of enfeebledintellect, my dear Pottinger, are so easily hoodwinked. "

"Quite so. Does it not occur to you, Captain, that a simple solution ofthe difficulty would be for Mrs Ingleton to send her boy to college?"

"Mrs Ingleton, " said the Captain, "is unfortunately incapable ofregarding this subject in any light but that of her son's likings. AndRoger Ingleton, minor, is infatuated. "

"Humph!" said the lawyer, "I thought so. Then I agree with you, it willbe useful to institute a few inquiries. "

"Leave that to me, " said the captain. "By the way, what about thatpiece of land you were speaking of?"

"Ah!" said the lawyer, making as near an approach to a blush as he couldmuster, "the fact is, Hodder's lease falls in next week. He has had itat a ridiculously low figure, and is not a profitable tenant. "

"That is the old dotard who is always croaking about Maxfield in thedays before the Flood?"

"Well, almost as remote a period. He was here in the time of the latesquire's father. At any rate his lease falls in; and I happen to know aperson who is willing to give twenty per cent more for the land than hepays. I can't tell you his name, " said the lawyer, looking sufficientlyconscious, "but I happen to know he would be a better tenant to Maxfieldthan the old man. "

Mr Pottinger amused himself with making a little mystery about a matterthat was no secret to Captain Oliphant. That gallant gentleman knew aswell as the lawyer did that Mr Pottinger himself, whose land adjoinedHodder's, was the eligible tenant in question. 

"There will be no difficulty about that, Pottinger. Of course, you mustgive Hodder the option of offering your friend's price. If he does not, it is clearly the duty of the executors to take the better tenant. "

He took up his hat and turned to go. 

"By the way, " said he at the door, "it will hardly be necessary, I takeit, to go through the farce of bringing a trifling matter of this kindbefore the other executors; Mrs Ingleton should really be spared allworry of this sort; and as for the other one--well, he chooses to besomewhere else. "

"Quite so, quite so. If you and Mrs Ingleton sign the lease it will besufficient, " said Mr Pottinger. 

Unluckily for the pleasantly arranged plan of these two good gentlemen, Miss Rosalind Oliphant took it into her pretty head a day or soafterwards to call at old Hodder's cottage in passing, to ask for aglass of milk. The young lady was in a very discontented frame of mind. She was angry with Mr Armstrong for staying away so long. Not thatshe cared what he did, but till he came back she felt she did not knowthe full extent of the forces arrayed against her at Maxfield; and shewanted to know the worst. Besides, although Roger was diligentlyprosecuting his art studies and displaying the most docile obedience toher discipline, she could not help thinking he would not have taken toart except to please her; and that displeased her mightily. Besides, Tom, her brother, was too silly for anything; he insisted on enjoyinghimself, whoever else was miserable; and Jill was very little better. Altogether, Miss Oliphant was out of humour, and felt this walk would doher good. 

She found the Hodder family in mighty tribulation. The old man sat inhis corner with his hat on the floor beside him, crying and boohing likea child. And his two little granddaughters looked on at his grief, paleand half-frightened, knowing something bad had happened, but unable toguess what. 

"Why, Hodder, " said Miss Rosalind, "whatever's the matter? What a noiseyou're making! What has happened?"

"Happened!" cried the old man with a voice quavering into a shrilltreble. "How would he like it himself? Seventy years, boy and man, have I sat here, like my father before me. I've seen yon elm grow froma stick to what she is now. I've buried all my kith and kin bar themtwo lassies. "

"Of course, I know you're very old. But why are you crying?" demandedRosalind. 

"Crying! Wouldn't you cry, Missy, if you was to be turned neck and cropinto the road at threescore years and ten?"

"Nonsense. What do you mean?"

"Come Tuesday, " sobbed the old man, "me and the lassies will betrespassers in this here very place. "

"What!" exclaimed Miss Rosalind, "do you mean you're to be turned out?Who dares to do such a thing?"

"You go and ask Mr Pottinger, if you doubt it, " blubbered the old man. "He ought to know. "

Without another word, Miss Rosalind flung herself from the cottage andmarched straight for the lawyer's, pale, with bosom heaving and a lightin her eyes, that Armstrong, had he been there to see it, would haveshivered at. 

"Mr Pottinger, " said she, breaking unceremoniously into the lawyer'sprivate room, "what is this I hear! How dare you frighten old Hodder bytalking about his leaving his farm?"

The lawyer stared at this beautiful apparition, not knowing whether tobe amused or angry. It was the first time any one in Maxfield hadaddressed him in this strain, and the sensation was so novel that hefelt fairly taken aback. 

"Really, dear young lady, I am delighted with any excuse that gives methe pleasure of a visit from--"

"Mr Pottinger, " said the young lady in a tone which made him open hiseyes still wider, "will you tell me, yes or no, if what Hodder tells meis true?"

"That depends on what Hodder says, " replied the lawyer, trying to lookcheerful. 

"He says he has had notice to leave his farm next week. Is that true?"

"That entirely depends on himself, if I _must_ suffer cross-examinationfrom so charming a counsel. "

"You mean--"

"I mean, my pretty young lady, that if he chooses to pay the new rent heis entitled to stay. "

"You have raised his rent?--a poor old man of seventy-five?"

"I have no power to do that. But I understand he has had the land fornext to nothing. It is worth more now. "

"Mr Pottinger, " said Miss Rosalind, "let me tell you that if you haveany hand in this wicked business you are a bad man, whatever you professto be. I shouldn't sleep to-night if I failed to tell you that. So iseverybody who dares treat an old man thus. "

"Pardon me, Miss Oliphant, that is not quite respectful to your ownfather. "

She rounded on him with trembling lips. 

"My father, " she began and faltered--"my father is not the sort of manto do a thing of this kind unless he were cajoled into it by some--some--some one like you, Mr Pottinger--"

With which she left the room, much to the lawyer's relief, who tried tolaugh to himself at the pretty vixen, but couldn't be as merry as hewould have wished. 

Rosalind, on her return to Maxfield, went straight with flashing eyes toRoger's room, and told him the story. 

"Roger, " she said, "if you are half a man you will stop it. You aremaster here, or will be. Are you going to let this poor old man beturned out of his home? You are not the dear boy I take you for, if youare. "

"Of course it must be stopped, " said Roger, amazed at her vehemence;"and it shall be. I always thought Pottinger a sneak. I assure you, Rosalind, I shall make poor old Hodder happy before we are a day older. So good-bye; I'll go at once. "

But he was no match for the lawyer, who politely recounted thecircumstances and referred him to his guardians, who, however, as hepointed out, had no choice but to accept the best-paying tenant. 

"It is done in your interest, my dear boy, " said Mr Pottinger. "We arebound to consider your interests, whether you like it or not. "

Mortified beyond measure, both on his own account and at the prospect offacing Rosalind, Roger returned slowly to Maxfield. As he entered, ahand was laid on his shoulder; Mr Armstrong had come back. 

CHAPTER SEVEN. 

MR. ARMSTRONG PUTS DOWN HIS FOOT. 

Mr Armstrong, as unconcerned as if he had just returned from a half-hour's stroll, had little idea of the flutter which his return caused tothe Maxfield family. He could hardly know that Raffles was parading thelower regions rubbing his hands, and informing his acquaintance downthere that the season for "larks" was coming on; nor, as he was out ofearshot, could he be supposed to know the particularly forcibleexpressions which Captain Oliphant rehearsed to himself in celebrationof the occasion. As for the young people, it did afford him a passinggratification to feel his pupil's arm linked once more in his own, andto encounter the expected boisterous welcome from Tom and Jill. MissRosalind was busy, forsooth! and if Mr Armstrong flattered himself shetook the slightest interest in his return, he might find out hismistake. 

"I'll join you in a minute, Roger, " said he to his ward, "but I must goand pay my respects to your mother. "

"Oh, she'll keep, " said Roger; "I want to hear what you've been up to. "

"In five minutes, " said the tutor, going to the drawing-room. 

Mrs Ingleton was there, looking pale and fragile, pouring out afternoontea for Captain Oliphant. 

"Why, Mr Armstrong, " said she, "we had given you up for lost; Roger wasgetting quite melancholy without you. "

"I understood, " began the captain, "when you asked leave--"

"Mrs Ingleton, I must ask you to excuse my long absence. I went to seea dying friend, and was unable to return earlier. "

"You might have written, " said the captain, returning to the charge. 

Mr Armstrong screwed his eye-glass round and stared at the speaker. 

"I beg your pardon, " said he. 

"I say, sir, you might have written. Let me tell you, Mr Armstrong, that, as my dear relative's co-trustee and guardian--"

"I am sorry, " observed the tutor, addressing Mrs Ingleton, "thatRoger's cough is still troubling him. He is waiting for me upstairs, bythe bye, but I was anxious to offer you my apologies without delay formy long absence. "

"Mr Armstrong, " said the captain, stepping between the tutor and thedoor, "this will not do, sir. When I speak to you, I expect you tolisten. "

Mr Armstrong bowed politely. 

"I repeat, sir, your conduct satisfies neither me nor your mistress. You forget, sir, that you are here on sufferance, and I desire tocaution you that it may become necessary to dispense with your services, unless-- I am speaking to you, Mr Armstrong. "

Mr Armstrong was examining with some curiosity a china group on themantelpiece. He turned round gravely. 

"You were saying--?" said he. 

The captain gave it up. 

"We shall discuss this matter some other time, " said he. 

"Pray, pray, " said Mrs Ingleton with tears in her eyes, "let us notforget that my boy's happiness depends on our harmony. I am sure MrArmstrong recognises that I depend on you both. "

Mr Armstrong bowed again; and finding that the captain had returned tohis chair, he quietly left the room. 

When he entered Roger's room, humming a tune to himself, he neitherlooked like a man who had returned from a funeral or from an altercationin the drawing-room. In five minutes he was in possession of most ofwhat had taken place during his absence--of Roger's cold, of thepainting-lessons, of Tom's reminiscences of Christy's Minstrels, andmost of all of Hodder's tribulation. 

"And what sort of an artist are you turning out?" inquired he. 

"Oh, all right. But I say, Armstrong, I want you to make it right aboutHodder before anything. Will you come and see him?"

"My dear fellow, Hodder is as safe in his cottage as you are here. Leave that to your responsible guardian. My present intention is towork on the tender mercies of Raffles for some dinner. I have travelledright through from Paris since this morning. "

"Your friend died?" inquired Roger. 

"Yes. I was in time to be of some little help, I think, but he was pastrecovery. How is Miss Oliphant?"

"All right; but in an awful state about old Hodder. I'm afraid to meether myself. She will be relieved to have you back. "

"Will she really?" said the tutor, laughing. "I hardly flatter myselfher comfort depends on which particular hemisphere I happen to be in. "

Miss Oliphant, as it happened, had taken to a spell of hard work in herstudio, and was not visible all the evening. She was, in fact, making acopy of the portrait Roger had lent her, and the work interested hergreatly. 

This bold, fearless, almost insolent, boy's face fascinated her. Sheseemed to be able to interpret the defiance that flashed in his eye, andto solve the problem which gathered on his half-mocking lips. She washalf afraid, half enamoured of this old piece of canvas. 

"Why are not you here now?" she muttered as she gazed at it. "You don'tlook like the sort of boy to die. Should we be friends or enemies?Heigho! I shouldn't care much which, if only you were here. Rogerminor is a dear boy; but--you are--"

She didn't say what he was, but worked late into the night with hercopy. 

At bedtime Jill came in radiant. 

"He's come back, Rosalind. Dear Mr Armstrong's come back. "

"Oh!" said Rosalind shortly. 

"Aren't you glad? Oh, I am!"

"Why should I be glad? I don't care two straws for all the MrArmstrongs in the world. Go to bed, Jill, and don't be a goose. "

Jill obeyed, a little discomfited, and was sound asleep long before theartist joined her. And long before she woke from her dreams nextmorning Rosalind was astir and abroad. She had resolved to pay an earlycall on old Hodder, if not to relieve his mind about the eviction, atleast to take him some comfort in the shape of a little tea and sugar. 

The old man was sitting outside the cottage, smoking and moaning tohimself. He cheered up a bit at the sight of his visitor, still more atthe sight of the tea. But it was a short-lived gleam of comfort, and herelapsed at the earliest opportunity into the doleful. 

"Little good it'll do me, " said he, "as have known this place, man andboy, seventy-five years, Missy. Never a word did they say to me tillnow. The old squire had allers his nod for Hodder, and when times wasbad he let the rent stand. And young Master Roger was of the samesort. "

"Oh, Roger is your friend still, " said Rosalind; "he's doing everythingto help you. "

"I don't mean _him_. He's good enough; but he's a boy. But youngMaster Roger as was, he had a will of his own, Missy. Not one of 'emdurst stand up to him. "

Rosalind became interested. "Do you mean the one who died?" said she. 

"Ay, they say he died. They said as much and wrote it on thetombstone. "

"Do you mean that there was ever a doubt about it?" said the young ladyuncomfortably. 

"They said he died, so he must have died, " said old Hodder, sipping histea. "It was all talk to the likes of me. Young Master Roger wasn't ofthe dying sort. "

"He went abroad, I hear?" she asked. 

"So they say. It's a score of years or more since. I tell 'ee, Missy, young Master Roger wouldn't have stood by to see me turned out likethis; he'd have--"

Here there was a click at the gate and a long shadow fell on thefootpath. It was Mr Armstrong in his flannels. He looked somewhatalarmed to find Miss Rosalind in possession. Still more to perceivethat she proposed to remain where she was. His impulse was to make afeeble excuse and say he would call again. But his courage revived onsecond thoughts. 

"Ah, Hodder, " said he, after saluting the young lady, "what's all thisabout turning you out of your cottage! What a notion to get into yourhead!"

"You may call it a notion, Mr Armstrong, " said the old man, "but whatabout this here piece of paper?" And he produced a blue legal document. 

Mr Armstrong put up his eye-glass and read it, with a face which, asRosalind furtively glanced upwards, seemed inscrutable. When he hadfinished he coolly put it in his pocket. 

"I'll see to this, " said he. "You choose the best time of day for awalk, Miss Oliphant. "

"Shall you really be able to settle this for Hodder?" replied she. 

"I've very little doubt about it. "

The old man chuckled ungallantly. "He, he, " said he, "Missy, you ladiesare good enough for tea and sugar, but it takes a man to put the likesof me right with my masters. "

Armstrong flushed angrily at this speech and was about to relieve hismind when Rosalind laughingly interposed--

"Poor old Hodder! You're quite right; I should never have been cleverenough to help you. Good-bye. I'm so glad. "

To tell the truth, Miss Oliphant was a good deal more engrossed withwhat the old man had let drop concerning the lost Roger than with thetutor and his knowledge of the law of landlord and tenant. 

"Suppose he did not die!" she said, half scared at the boldness of thesuggestion. "If he were to come back!" And she went back and lookedlong once more at the picture. Then with less satisfaction shecontemplated her own copy. Thus employed Roger found her when he passedher door an hour later. 

"Still harping on my brother, " said he. 

"I've done with him, thank you, " said Rosalind, handing him back thepicture. "See, I have one of my own now. "

"Why, it's better than the original. I like it better. "

"That shows how little you know about painting. "

"It shows how much you know about my brother, " said he. "But if youlike to keep the original and let me have the copy, I should consider Ihad the best of the bargain. "

Rosalind tossed her head and locked her own copy up in her desk. 

"Roger, " she said when that was done, "where did he die?"

"The date is on the picture, if one could only make it out. He wasabroad at the time, I believe. "

"Where?"

"I never heard. "

"Have you never tried to find out?"

Roger looked at her, startled. 

"It was before I was born, " said he. "Father never spoke of him. Butwhy do you ask?"

"Only a girl's curiosity. I thought, if any one knew, you would. Butthere is the bell for lunch. "

Armstrong meanwhile had been having an interview of a different kind. He strolled into Mr Pottinger's office almost at the same time as thatworthy lawyer himself. 

"So you are back?" asked the latter. 

"Yes, and quite at your service, " said the tutor. "I am afraid myabsence has been inconvenient. But I am ready for business now. By theway, I have brought you back a document which must have been left on oldHodder by mistake. I certainly did not sanction it. "

The lawyer sat back in his chair and gazed at the tutor through hisspectacles. Mr Armstrong, leaning against the chimney-piece, put uphis glass and gazed leisurely back. The two men understood one anotherpretty well already. 

"The notice is quite in order. I have Captain Oliphant's instructions. "

"And mine?"

"You were not here. "

"I am here now, and I object to Hodder's being disturbed. Do I makemyself clear?"

"But--"

"You must excuse me, Mr Pottinger. I shall be glad to discuss thematter with you in the presence of my co-trustees. Meanwhile, good-morning. "

The lawyer jumped out of his chair like a man shot. 

"What, sir--you, an interloper, an adventurer, a nobody, a parasite--doyou suppose I am going to be talked to by you as if I didn't know my ownduty. Do you know, Master Usher, that you can any day receive a week'snotice of dismissal--"

"A month's, I think, " observed the tutor, taking up his hat. "In thatrespect, perhaps, I have the advantage of the solicitor to the trust. However, we won't talk of that just now. Good-morning again. "

Mr Armstrong looked in on his friend the doctor, whom he found in anopportune moment at breakfast. The two men had a long chat over theircoffee, and finally adjourned for a walk along the shore, ending up witha cool spring dip in Sheephaven Cove. After which, much refreshed, andglad to be once more in his familiar haunts, the tutor strolledcheerfully back to Maxfield for lunch. He was quite aware things hadundergone a change. He had two new enemies, but he was not afraid ofthem. He had a new pupil, but he liked him. He had a devoted newchampion, in the shape of a little girl, but that was no hardship, Roger, too, despite his new friends, was still loyal to his tutor; andMrs Ingleton, by all appearances, still regarded him as a usefulfriend. What then was the difference! It could hardly have anything todo with a certain young person half his own age, with whom the tutor hadnot had two hours' continuous conversation in his life, and of whosebehaviour generally he did not at all know whether he approved or not. 

"Ridiculous!" said Mr Armstrong to himself with a smile, as he strolledup the carriage drive. 

At that moment the distant hall-door opened, and a light figure steppedout for a moment on to the door-step to pat the great mastiff that laysleeping on the mat. The apparition, the caress, and the vanishingoccupied scarcely half a minute, and when it was past Mr Armstrong wasonly ten paces nearer the house than he had been when it appeared. 

But, somehow, in those few seconds the amused smile on his lips fadedaway, and the eye-glass dropped somewhat limply from his eye, as herepeated to himself more emphatically than before--

"Ridiculous!"

At lunch, Roger innocently broached the question of Hodder's eviction. 

"Mother, " said he, "what do you think that idiot Pottinger has been upto? He's taken it into his wise head to threaten to turn old Hodder outof his cottage unless he pays a higher rent in future. I went to rowhim about it, but he's far too dense to see what a scoundrelly thing itis. "

"How shocking!" said Mrs Ingleton. "Poor old Hodder has been in thatplace all his life. Your father was always fond of him, Roger. Iwouldn't have him disturbed for the world. "

"You'll have to tell Pottinger so yourself, " said Roger. "He says he'sbound to screw all he can out of the old chap in my interests, if youplease. "

The captain had listened to this parley with anything but comfort, andwas about at this point to explain, when Mr Armstrong seeing his chanceadroitly stepped in. 

"You may make yourself easy about the matter, Roger. Evidently MrPottinger has acted most unwarrantably on his own responsibility. Ihave been to see him this morning, and told him in future he is not totake upon himself to do anything about the estate without consultingMrs Ingleton, and Captain Oliphant, and myself--"

"Then Hodder is not to be disturbed?" inquired Rosalind. 

"I have seen that the notice is withdrawn. I, for one, should certainlynever sanction it. "

"Oh, how delightful you are, " said the young lady. "How happy you willhave made the poor old man. Father, do get that horrid Pottinger sentaway. He's a monster. I told him so yesterday, but he wouldn't believeme. "

"Rosalind, " said her father, whose lunch was not agreeing with him atall, "it vexes me to see you interfere in matters in which you have noconcern. It seems to me, my dear Eva, " he added, addressing MrsIngleton, whom he had already taken to calling by her Christian name, "that these business questions had much better be left for discussionamong ourselves, and not at the family meal. "

"Perhaps so, " said Mrs Ingleton; "only we are all so interested in poorold Hodder, we hardly regard this as a business question. However, I amdelighted to hear it is all right now. I only wish Mr Pottinger hadconsulted you, Edward, before he took such a step. "

"Oh, he did, " blurted out Rosalind. "But, as I told him, of course papanot knowing what a villain he was, would believe all he said. It wasall the more shame of him to go and impose on papa, who hasn't had timeto get to know all the people about the place, instead of going toAuntie or Mr Armstrong, who know all of them. I don't think he'll doit again, " said the young lady, firing up like a charming Amazon, at theremembrance of her interview. 

Captain Oliphant pushed his chair brusquely back from the table and gotup, looking, so Armstrong thought, not as proud of his loyal daughter ashe should have been. 

"Eva, " said he drily, "I shall be in the library if you want me. Willyou tell Raffles to bring me in the _Times_ when it arrives?"

"I'm afraid papa will be very angry with me, " said Rosalind dolefully, as she and Roger walked back across the hall. "But if he won't stand upfor himself some one must. I'm quite sure he would give the impression, to any one who did not know him, that he had purposely been harsh topoor Hodder. "

As it happened, Captain Oliphant displayed no anger. The question ofHodder was allowed to drop, and no further reference was made to histhreatened eviction. Mr Pottinger during the week meekly submitted anagreement to permit him to remain where he was, which the trusteessanctioned unanimously; and when the old man's champions at Maxfieldrejoiced in the discomfiture of the man of the law. 

Captain Edward Oliphant said nothing in his defence. 

After this matters went on quietly, as they will do when one storm hasblown over and the next is yet below the horizon. Armstrong settleddown to his duties with his two pupils--or rather his three pupils, forMiss Jill made a point of receiving lessons too. Miss Rosalind workedaway at her painting, and succeeded in evoking a glimmering interest inart in the Philistine breasts of her two students. The young peopledivided their leisure between riding, cricket, tennis, and yachting. Mrs Ingleton, as the weeks went by, not only grew more pale, but beganto be aware of the attentions of her sympathetic kinsman, and to besorely perplexed and disturbed thereat. And the Captain himselfreceived his Indian letters regularly by each mail, and confessed tohimself that, but for two considerations--one appertaining to love, theother to hate--he had better far have remained in Her Majesty's serviceabroad. 

CHAPTER EIGHT. 

TWO ENDS OF A ROPE. 

The summer passed, and even Captain Oliphant began to grow reconciled tohis surroundings. That is to say, he discovered that at present it washis policy to make himself agreeable, even to his co-trustee. Armstrong, with the position he held at Maxfield as Roger's friend andMrs Ingleton's trusted servant, was not to be disposed of quite aseasily as the gallant officer had at first anticipated. At the sametime, while he remained where he was, the Captain felt himself decidedlyembarrassed in the working out of sundry little projects which floatedin his ingenious brain. Besides which, time was getting on. Rogerwould be twenty in November, and a year later--

Captain Oliphant had reached this pleasant stage in his meditations onemorning, as he sipped his coffee in his own room, when Raffles enteredwith the letters. 

"Eightpence to pay on this one, please, sir. "

It was a letter with an Indian post-mark, unstamped. 

The Captain regarded it with knitted brows; then tossing it on thetable, said--

"Give it back. I won't take it in, Raffles. " Raffles, reflectingwithin himself that the Captain must have a vast amount ofcorrespondence if he could afford to chuck away an interesting documentlike this, took the letter and retired. 

"Wait a minute, " called the Captain, as the door was closing. "Let melook at it again. "

Raffles guessed as much, and brought the missive back triumphantly. TheCaptain again regarded it with expressions of anything but cordiality, and seemed half inclined to reject it once more. But he took it upagain and posed it in his hand. 

"You can leave it, Raffles, " said he presently; "give the postman theeightpence. "

It was some time before Captain Oliphant opened the letter. He sippedhis coffee and glared at it viciously, as it lay on the table besidehim. 

"What game is the scoundrel up to now?" muttered he. "I began to hope Iwas rid of him. What does he want now?"

He opened the letter and read--

 "Dear Comrade, --You have not answered my last three letters, and I feel quite anxious to know of your welfare. You will be pleased to hear that I have arranged to take my leave home during the coming autumn--"

The Captain put the letter down with an exclamation which startled thesparrows on the window-ledge, and set the breakfast cup shaking in itssaucer. 

"Coming home!" he gasped. Then he read on. 

 "I look forward to inquiring personally after your health and prospects, in which, as you know, my dear fellow, I am much interested. It would be very nice of you, as the only friend I have in England, to ask your old comrade on a visit to you in your comfortable quarters. A particular advantage in such an arrangement would be that it would prevent my coming without being asked. I am due by the `Nile' about the first week in October. Come and meet me in town. I have no doubt I shall get a line at Southampton to say at which hotel I shall find you. I fear you will find me financially in low water. But I shall have with me papers relating to the regimental accounts previous to your regretted departure from India, which, no doubt, some people would regard as valuable, _Au revoir_, my dear fellow--

 "Yours ever, --

 "R. R. 

 "_P. S_. --Commend me to your charming family, I look forward with particular pleasure to make the acquaintance of the young ladies, of whom I have heard delightful reports over here. "

Raffles, when he came in to remove the breakfast things, could not helpbeing struck with the narrow escape Captain Oliphant had had of throwingaway, for the sake of a paltry eightpence, a most interesting andappetising letter. 

The Captain sat holding it abstractedly in his hand, nor was it till thedoor opened half an hour later and Rosalind sailed in that he hastilypulled himself together, and crumpled the paper away in his pocket. 

"Why, papa, what is the matter? Is there any bad news in that letter. "

"On the contrary, it announces the arrival from India of a very dear oldcomrade. "

"Oh, " said Rosalind. "You will like to hear all about the people overthere. Does he belong to our regiment?"

"No, dear. But I shall expect you to be very agreeable to him when hecomes here. "

"But he's not coming _here_, is he?" she asked, in amazement. 

"Where else do you suppose he would be likely to come to visit me?"

"Oh, but, papa, we cannot--we must not ask people here. As it is, thinkof all four of us living here on Roger's money. It isn't fair. "

"Rosalind, you use expressions which, to anyone but your father, wouldbe positively offensive. Rest assured that I do not require my ownchild to correct me. "

"Oh, of course, dear father, I don't mean that, but--"

"But it sounds extremely as if you did mean it. "

"I do hope you won't ask any one here, " said she doggedly. 

"Rosalind, you offend me. You are incapable, as I have told you before, of appreciating your duty either to me or yourself. Oblige me bygoing. "

"Papa, dear, I am only anxious--"

"Go!" said the Captain brusquely. 

She obeyed. Mr Armstrong, as he met her in the hall and marked thebright colour in her cheeks and the light in her eyes, thought tohimself how uncommonly well she was looking this morning. He might havethought otherwise had he seen her in her studio half an hour later, withthe colour all faded, striving miserably to resume her painting at thepoint where she had left it off. 

Her good father, meanwhile, naturally put out, continued hismeditations. 

"A most vexing child--no support to me at all. On the contrary, anembarrassment. I might have guessed she would cut up rough. Yet I doso long for a little sympathy. Wonder if I shall get any from my dearcousin Eva some fine day? Hum. I more and more incline to thatventure. It would suit my book, to say nothing of my being reallyalmost in love with the dear creature. But I'm so abominably shy. Let's see, Ratman is due first week in October--a month hence. I shallhave to keep him quiet some how. He won't be satisfied with things asthey are, I'm afraid. All very well to be heir-presumptive when there'slittle prospect of presuming. Dear Roger is certainly not robust--notat all, poor boy. Still he seems tenacious of what would be very muchmore useful to me than to him. Yes, it would strengthen my hands vastlyif my dear cousin Eva were to give me the right to regard the lad as afather. There would be something definite in that. It would solve theArmstrong question, for one thing, I flatter myself; and as forRosalind--yes by the way--"

He took out the letter again and read the postscript carefully. 

"Yes--tut, tut--how oddly things do work out sometimes. Evidently it ismy duty all round, for the sake of everybody, to cast aside my naturalbashfulness and use the opportunities Providence gives me. "

With which reflection he lit a cigar, and had a pleasant ramble in thepark with little Miss Jill, who had rarely seen her papa more lively oramusing. 

His spirits were destined to be still further cheered by an occurrencewhich took place on the following day. 

Roger, despite his delicate health, had managed to get through acreditable amount of work during the summer under Mr Armstrong'sguidance. He was shortly to go up for his first B. A. In London, and, with that ordeal in view, had been tempted to tax his strength even morethan was good for him. 

At last the tutor put down his foot. 

"No, old fellow, " said he; "if you work any move you will go backwardsinstead of forward. You must take this week easy, and go up fresh forthe exam. Depend on it, you will do far better than if you tried tokeep it up till the last moment. "

In vain Roger pleaded, threatened, mutinied. The tutor was inexorable, and, fortified by the joint authority of Mrs Ingleton and Dr Brandram, carried the day. He had also an unexpected ally in Miss Rosalind. 

"Don't be obstinate, Roger, " said she. "The three Fates are too manyfor you; and don't sulk, whatever you do, there's a dear boy, but makeyourself nice and propose to take Tom and Jill and me across to PulpitIsland to-morrow. If you are so wedded to lessons, you and Tom shallhave your art class for once in a way on the Pelican's Rock instead ofmy room. "

Roger could hardly hold out after this; and Mr Armstrong, a littleenvious, set the seal of his approval to the programme. 

"I wish you'd come too, " said Tom; "can't you?"

"Oh, do, " said Jill; "it would be twice as nice. "

"Mr Armstrong has enough of all of us on working-days, " said Rosalindrather cruelly, "to forego a chance of being rid of us on a holiday. "

"Quite so, " said the tutor, trying to enjoy the situation; "when themice are away the cat will play--on the piano. "

The next day promised well for the picnic; and Roger had sufficientlywarmed up to the proposed expedition to be able to enter eagerly intothe preparations. 

The Pulpit Island, a desolate cavernous rock three miles from the coast, dominated by a lighthouse, was a familiar hunting-ground of his in daysgone by, and he decidedly enjoyed the prospect of doing the honours ofthe place to his cousins now--particularly one of them. 

As not a breath of air was stirring, they decided not to encumber thesmall boat with mast or sail, but to row leisurely across with just asmuch energy as suited their holiday humour. The channel was on thewhole free from currents, and, as Roger knew the landing-places as wellas the oldest sailor in the place, any precaution in the way of a pilotwas needless. 

Armstrong, as he watched the little craft slowly glide over the glassywater, dwindling smaller and smaller, but sending back the sound ofvoices and laughter long after it itself had become an indistinguishablespeck in the gleaming water, wished himself one of the crew. But asfate had ordained otherwise he retreated to his piano, and succeeded inirritating Captain Oliphant considerably by his brilliant execution, vocal and instrumental, of some of his favourite pieces. 

The day, however, was too hot even for music, and after an hour'spractice Mr Armstrong gave it up and took a book. 

But that was dull, and he tried to write some letters. Worse and worse. The place was stifling, and the pen almost melted in his hand. 

What was the matter with him? Why did he feel so down, so lonely. Surely he could exist a day without his pupil, whatever the temperature. Perhaps he had his doubts about the boy's success in the comingexamination. No; he fancied that would be all right. He would try astroll in the park. It could not at least be hotter under the treesthan in the house. 

Across the passage a door stood wide open--a familiar door, throughwhich he caught sight of a familiar easel on the floor, and over thefireplace one or two familiar Indian knick-knacks. He couldn't helpstopping a moment to peep in. It seemed cooler in there. What was thepicture on the easel? Might he not just look? A view of the park, withthe sea beyond-pretty, but--no, not as good as it might be. Landscapewas not this artist's strong point. Ah, there was a portrait on themantelpiece. That promised better. Why, it was the identical boy'sportrait that had once hung in the old squire's library. No--it was acopy, but an extraordinary copy, as if the original had suddenly livedwhile it was being made. Mr Armstrong had rarely seen a portrait whichlooked so like speaking and breathing. The original in Roger's room wasweak compared with this. And in front of it stood a glass with a rose, whose petals leaned over and just touched the canvas--

Mr Armstrong, feeling very guilty, beat a hasty retreat into the hotpassage and made his way down-stairs. He was a little jealous of thatportrait, perched there in that cool room, with the sweet rose in frontof it. 

"Going out?" said Captain Oliphant in the hall. The Captain, by theway, had taken to being civil to his co-trustee, much to Mr Armstrong'sannoyance, "Warm, isn't it?"

"Yes, " said he. 

"Beautiful day for those young people. "

"Beautiful, " said the tutor. 

As he spoke, he casually tapped the barometer at the hall-door, as washis habit. To his surprise, the dial gave a great leap downward. Something was wrong with it evidently, for the sky was as monotonouslyblue as it had been all day, and not a leaf stirred in the trees. However, Mr Armstrong took the precaution to return to his own room fora moment to consult the barometer there. It, too, answered him with adownward plunge. 

The tutor screwed his glass rather excitedly into his eye, and looked atthe clock. Half-past three. He touched the bell. 

"Tell the groom to saddle `Pomona' for me, Raffles. I will come to thestables in a minute or two and mount there. "

"You need a bit of exercise this weather, you do, " remarked Raffles tohimself, as he retired, "to keep warm. "

A few minutes later the tutor was riding smartly to Yeld. During thehalf-hour occupied by that journey the signs of the approaching stormbecame manifest. The blue of the sky took a leaden hue, and out at seaan ominous cloud-bank lifted its head on the horizon, while the sultryair seemed to breathe hot on the rider's cheek. 

He pulled up short at Dr Brandram's door. 

"What's the matter now?" asked the doctor. "I hate to see you onhorseback. It always means bad news. Is Mrs Ingleton poorly? I amnot at all comfortable about her. "

"No; nobody's ill. But I want you for all that. There's a storm comingon. "

"So the glass says. All the more reason for staying indoors. "

"The youngsters from the Hall are out in it. "

"Well, can I lend you an umbrella?"

"Don't be an ass, Brandram. They are out in an open boat at sea. "

The doctor jumped to his feet. 

"By Jove!" he exclaimed. 

"They went to the island this morning, and will have started back aquarter of an hour ago. "

"They've caught it already, then, " said the doctor. "Look!"

The horizon was lurid with clouds. Pulpit Island out at sea seemed, instead of three miles distant, to have come in to within a mile. Thechannel between, still gleaming in the sun, was struck by a bar ofshadow which seemed like a scar on the surface. The two men, as theystood in the street looking seaward, could hear already the solemn humthrough the breathless air, and feel the first cool whiff of the breezeon their faces, while at their feet there fell with a sudden plash aheavy drop of rain. 

"Had they a sail?" asked the doctor. 

"No. "

"It's coming south-east. They will drive in this side of Sheep Head. "

"That's what I thought. An awful coast, and not a boat there. "

"Get the horse in the gig, " said Dr Brandram, "while I put togetherwhat we are likely to want. Look sharp. "

Armstrong wanted no encouragement to be expeditious, and had the trap atthe door almost before the doctor had his pile of blankets, wraps, withbrandy and other restoratives, ready to put in it. In the village theypaused to buy a rope and to warn one or two stragglers of their errand. Then in the gathering storm they drove hard towards Sheep Head. 

There was no mistake about the gale now. The sky was black with clouds, and the rain and wind struck them simultaneously as they urged on. Thewarning hum had already risen to a roar, and the wave, as they raced, crest over crest, to the shore, hissed and seethed with a fury whichcould be heard a mile off. 

Neither of the men spoke. Armstrong, with the reins in his hand, kepthis eyes stolidly between the horse's ears. The doctor, more agitated, looked eagerly out across the sea. 

At last, near the summit of the tall, angular headland, the gig cameabruptly to a standstill. The horse was tied up, and the two men, scarcely able to keep their feet, staggered to the cliff edge. Therefor half an hour they lay, straining their eyes seaward, with the fullfury of the blast on their faces. It was hopeless to expect to seeanything, for the rain drove blindingly in their eyes, and, thoughscarcely five o'clock, the afternoon was almost as dark as evening. 

"Could they possibly drive clear of the point?" asked the doctor. 

"Not possibly, I think. Come down to the shore. We are no use here. "

"Wait a bit; it seems to be getting lighter. "

It was; but for a long time the glow served only to make the obscuritymore visible. Presently, however, the rain paused for a moment, andenabled them to dear their eyes and look steadily ahead. Dr Brandramfelt his arm suddenly gripped as his companion exclaimed hoarsely--

"What's that?"

"Something red. "

Sure enough there was a speck of red tossed about in the waves, nowvisible, now lost, now returning. It was all that could be seen, but itwas enough for Mr Armstrong. 

"It's the boat. She wore a red cloak. Come down, come down. "

"No; stop till we see how they are driving. There's time enough. "

As far as they could calculate, the boat (if boat it was) was beingdriven straight for Sheephaven Cove, under the cliff on which theystood--a furious, rugged shore--unless, indeed, a miracle should chanceto pitch them into the deep, natural harbour that lay in between the lowrocks and the headland. 

"Come down, " said Armstrong again. 

From the sea-level nothing, not even the red speck, was discernible; andfor a terrible five minutes they wondered, as they scrambled out onhands and knees to the outmost limit of the jutting rocks, whether, among the wild breakers, the little boat and its precious crew had notvanished for ever. 

It was all they could do to struggle to their feet, and, clinging to therocks, turn their faces seaward. A new paroxysm of the gale well-nighdashed them backwards, and for a time prevented their seeing anything. But in a minute or two it eased off enough to allow them to open theireyes. 

"See--there--look out, look out, " cried the doctor, pointing. 

He was right. About a quarter of a mile away, buffeted like a cork onthe water, was a boat, and in it something red. 

"Stand up and wave; it's no use shouting, " said Armstrong. 

Taking advantage of a temporary lull, they stood and waved their coatsabove their heads. Whether they were seen or not, they could not tell. No signal came in return; only the boat--as it seemed, stern-foremost--drove on towards them. 

"Hold on and get your rope ready, " said the doctor. 

"Will she clear the rocks or no?"

"We shall see. They've no oars out. Stay there while I wave again. "

This time it was not in vain. There was a stir in the boat. The redcloak was seen to wave aloft, and a faint cry mingled with the storm. 

"Hold on!" cried the doctor; "they see us, thank God. I'll go onwaving. "

Presently they could see one oar put out, in an attempt to steer theboat into the cove. But in a moment it was swept away, and she drove onas helplessly as before. 

It seemed years while she gradually approached, stern-foremost, nowseeming to lurch straight towards the fatal rocks, now to stand clearfor the narrow channel. They could distinguish the four passengers atlast. She in red sat in the stern looking ahead, holding her littlesister at her side. The two lads in the middle were baling out wildly, pausing every now and then to turn white faces landward, but returningat once to their task. And indeed the boat sat so low in the water thatit was a miracle how she floated at all. 

Armstrong stood up, his friend holding him, and waved his coil of ropeabove his head. The signal was read in a moment. The two girlsretreated to the middle of the boat to make room for Roger in the stern. 

On and on they came. For an instant it seemed as if nothing could savethem, for an ugly cross wave hurled them straight towards the rocks. But the next righted them as suddenly, lifting them high on its crestand dashing them headlong towards the one spot where help awaited them. 

Before they rose again a deft cast from Armstrong had sent the ropeacross the bows within Roger's reach, while the doctor, with the otherend lashed round his body, was running at full speed towards the calmerwater of the cove. 

For a moment the line hung slack, as a great back-wave lifted the boaton its crest and carried it seawards. But suddenly the strain came, carrying the two men on shore nearly off their feet, and grinding on thegunwale of the boat with a creak which could be heard even above thewaves. 

"Hold on now!" cried Armstrong, as a forward wave surged up behind theboat. 

All obeyed but Roger, who, seeking to ease the strain, began to haul inon the rope. The wave tossed the boat up with a furious lurch, halfswamping it as it did so, and flinging it down again headlong into thetrough. When it rose once more the rope still held, and three of herpassengers were safe. But Roger was not to be seen. 

With an exclamation which even the doctor, in the midst of hisexcitement, could hear, Armstrong flung himself blindly into the chaosof water. For a moment or two it seemed as if he had gone straight tohis fate, for amid the foam and lashing spray they strained their eyesin vain for a glimpse either of him or his pupil. 

Then he appeared high above their heads on the crest of a wave, strikingout to where, for one instant, an upstretched arm and nothing more rosefeebly from the water. The next moment, hurled thither as it seemed bythe wave, he had reached it, and was battling for dear life with thesurf that swept him back seaward. 

By this time a few bystanders had ventured out on to the rocks, one ofthem with a rope, which, after three vain attempts, fell within reach ofthe exhausted pair. By its aid Armstrong piloted his senseless chargeinto the calmer water of the cove, and the whole party, a few momentslater, were safe on _terra firma_. 

CHAPTER NINE. 

THE CAPTAIN RELIEVES GUARD. 

When Mr Armstrong, having with some difficulty taken in who and wherehe was, proceeded, as was natural under the circumstances, to feel forhis eye-glass, he discovered that his right arm hung powerless at hisside, and refused to perform its familiar functions. The next thing hewas aware of was that Rosalind and the doctor were kneeling on the rocksbeside the senseless form of Roger, who lay, white as a corpse, with theblood trickling from a gash on the temple. Then Jill crept beside him, pale and sobbing, and said something, he did not hear what. Finally theruddy countenance of Tom dawned upon him, and made him aware, even inthe midst of his dream, that one person at least had thoroughly enjoyedthe day's adventures, and was no whit the worse either for the fright orthe drenching. 

How they all got up to Maxfield the tutor was never able to say, for thepain of his broken arm became so intense that he was as near swooning ashe had ever been in his life, and but for the timely services of thedoctor, who was able to give him some little relief, he might havedisgraced himself for ever by fainting light off. He remembered seeingRoger lying in the carriage with eyes half open, his head on Rosalind'sshoulder. And he remembered feeling his own hand held fast in the twohands of his little champion. 

The next thing he was conscious of was that he was in his own bed, withhis arm firmly bound beside him, and the friendly face of Dr Brandrambent over him. 

"That's better, isn't it, old fellow?" said the latter. "It's a wonderit was only the arm. You must keep quiet now, for you shipped a lot ofwater, and were a quarter drowned into the bargain. "

"What about Roger?"

"He'll do now--at least I hope so. I was concerned about him at first, but he came round. I envy you your plunge. Just my luck! All the bigthings are done by the other fellows, and I'm left to hold on to therope and order the physic. Never mind. I never expected to see eitherof you out of that caldron. I certainly could never have come outmyself. "

"Miss Oliphant--is she all right?"

"Right as a trivet; and has mounted guard over her cousin already. Ifhe doesn't get well with her for nurse, he's an obstinate, customer. "

"Thanks, Brandram. Come again soon. "

Captain Oliphant's concern at this untoward misadventure may well beimagined. He shed tears with the mother over their "dear one's" narrowescape, and censured in terms of righteous indignation all who had beenparties to the hazardous expedition. 

He cross-examined the doctor as to the dangers to be apprehended fromthe patient's present condition, and shook his head gloomily at theprobable consequences of so terrible a shock to his already fragileconstitution. He summoned his three children into his presence to beseverally kissed in recognition of their deliverance, and sent a messageby Raffles to Mr Armstrong to say that he was glad to hear his injurieswere only of a slight nature, and trusted he would take what time wasnecessary from his duties to make a proper recovery. After which, in apassably good-humour, he returned to his room, and wondered whatimprovements he should make at Maxfield if, by any melancholydispensation of Providence, the property should fall into his unworthyhands. 

Of course there were the usual thorns among the roses. Mrs Ingleton, ill herself, was far too painfully absorbed in her boy's danger to lendan ear to the tender nothings of her sympathetic kinsman. And the wholeparty were so possessed with the notion that Mr Armstrong was somethingof a hero, that any suggestion to the contrary was just then clearlyinopportune. 

The main fact, however, was that Roger Ingleton, Minor--dear lad--wasvery ill indeed. 

"I trust, doctor, " said the captain, about a fortnight after theaccident, to Dr Brandram, who was quitting the house with a decidedlylong face, "I trust our dear young patient is on a good road now torecovery. "

"I don't like the look of him, I must confess, " replied the doctor;"but, with perfect quiet and nothing to excite him, he will pull round. The one thing to be dreaded is excitement. The lungs we have got wellin hand, but that blow on his temple makes an ugly complication. "

"Poor fellow. Is there nothing one can do?"

"Let him alone, with your sweet daughter to nurse him. She is an angel, Captain Oliphant, if you'll excuse my saying so. "

"She knows, as we all do, how precious his life is. And how is yourother patient?"

"Armstrong? Practically well. I have given him leave to get up. Hehas the constitution of a tiger. I wish we could give some of it to theboy. "

"Ah, indeed!" said the captain, with a sigh. 

On the following day, a desire took possession of the guardian to visithis dear ward in the sick-chamber. Rosalind, who had clung to her post, defiant of fatigue and sleep, had been prevailed upon in deference toher father's peremptory command to seize an hour's sleep in her ownroom. 

"I will sit with him myself, " said the captain. "You must not beselfish, my child, in using your privilege. You forget that whatgratifies you may also be a pleasure to others. I am going to town in afew days. Who knows if I may see the dear fellow again. "

"Father!" exclaimed Rosalind, seizing his arm almost roughly; "he isgetting better. The doctor says so. "

"My poor child, " said her father, with a forced cheerfulness far moreterrifying to the girl than his previous melancholy, "I was wrong toalarm you. Yes, of course he is getting better; of course. Come, wemust all be brave. "

Rosalind, quite broken down, went to her bed and cried herself to sleep. 

When the captain entered the sick-chamber, he found the mother at thebedside. 

"My dear Eva, " said he, "let me beg you to take a little rest. I willremain here. Do give me the pleasure for once. You know how I shallvalue the privilege. "

Mrs Ingleton, who was in truth fairly worn out, was fain to consent, oncondition that she should be called at once if necessary. 

Having escorted her affectionately to the door, Captain Oliphant seatedhimself at the bedside, and looked hard at his ward. 

The boy lay in a feverish doze, his large dark eyes half-closed, and hishead turning now and again restlessly on the pillow. 

"My poor dear fellow, " said his guardian, bending over him, "how do youfeel this afternoon!"

"Better, I think. Where's Rosalind?"

"Gone to bed. I am really afraid of her becoming ill. She looks sopale and worn. "

"She was so good to me, " said Roger. "I never thought of her gettingill. How long have I been ill?" he asked. 

"Three weeks, my boy. What a narrow escape you had. You know I neverheard yet what happened that day in the boat. How did it all happen?"

Whereupon Roger, rousing himself still more, began to go over the eventsof that memorable day, which at that distance of time seemed to loom outin his mind more terrible than at the time. 

His guardian, deeply interested in the narrative, drew him out into afull and particular account of all that passed: the picnic on theisland, the sudden storm, the drive before the wind, the awful roar ofthe surf on the shore, what each one said and thought and prepared for, and then of the crowning excitement of the rescue, the struggle in thewater, and the drowning sensations. 

When all was told the boy's head fell exhausted on the pillow, his chestheaved, and he lay half muttering to himself, half moaning, a pitifulspectacle of weakness and exhaustion. 

When, an hour later, Rosalind glided in, her father walked with fingerto his lips to meet her. 

"Make no noise, " said he, "the dear lad is sleeping. Don't disturb himwhatever you do. "

That was a bad night in the sick-room. The fever rose higher andhigher. Roger tossed and moaned ceaselessly all night, and for thefirst time wandered in his talk. Armstrong, who looked in once ortwice, durst not let himself be seen by the patient for fear of addingto his excitement. A midnight messenger was despatched for DrBrandram, who came, looking very grave, and remained at the bedside allnight. Captain Oliphant was indefatigable in his inquiries andattentions. He denied himself his natural sleep in order to linger nearthe dear one's door and feed on the crumbs of information which fromtime to time came out. He insisted on lending Dr Brandram a pair ofhis own slippers, and besought Armstrong, with his bad arm, to take careof himself and go shares in his brandy and water. 

Finally, when the doctor peremptorily ordered every one to bed, heretired in a chastened mood to his own room, where he packed his trunkand smoked his cigar thoughtfully till daylight struggled through thewindows. 

Then he took a brief nap in his arm-chair, and was astir in time to meetthe doctor as he descended to the hall. 

"What news?" he asked. 

"Don't ask me, " said the doctor; "my calculations are completely upset. Something has excited him. Whom did he see yesterday?"

"Only my daughter and his mother, and, for a short time, myself. "

"Was he at all disturbed while you were there?"

"On the contrary, he was drowsy when I entered and drowsy when I left. He may possibly have caught sight of Mr Armstrong when he looked in. "

"He should not have come near him in his present state. Anything thatreminds him of the accident is bad for him. "

"Dear, dear, what a pity! No doubt the boy caught sight of him. Tellme, doctor--may I venture up to town for a day or two on importantbusiness? If you thought I should stay--"

"No. I hope it's not quite as bad as that; but you should leave wordwhere a message will find you, if necessary. Good day. "

"I'm not quite such a fool, " growled the doctor to himself as he walkedto the stables, "as you think me, my fine fellow. If you were in theroom half an hour last night this is all explained. To think that youare the father of that ministering angel, too!"

The captain, in a spirit of subdued cheerfulness, travelled up thatafternoon to town. The weather was superb. The country, rich withharvest, looked beautiful. The carriage was unusually comfortable, andthe cigars magnificent. Altogether this good man felt that he had muchto be thankful for, and quietly wondered within himself whether, on hisarrival at the "Langham" Hotel, he should find a telegram from Maxfieldalready awaiting him. 

Instead, he found what pleased him decidedly less, a telegram fromSouthampton. 

 "Business keeps me here for a week--arrive London Friday evening. 

 "Ratman. "

The captain expressed himself to himself as greatly annoyed by thissimple message, and for the rest of that evening quite lost his naturalgaiety. 

Next morning, however, not being a man to waste the precious hours, hedecided, like a dutiful son of his _alma mater_, to take a little run toOxford. 

He had still in his pocket a certain memorandum, made long ago, of thename of a certain college at that seat of learning, at which, at acertain date, of which he had also a note, a person in whom he feltinterested had been a student. Why not improve the occasion by a fewinquiries on the spot as to the academical career of that interestingperson? It was a brilliant idea, no sooner conceived than executed. 

That afternoon, among a crowd of returning undergraduates at ---College, might have been seen the well-dressed military form of acertain gentleman, who politely inquired for the senior tutor. 

"I have called sir, on behalf of a friend of mine in India, to inquirerespecting a Mr Frank Armstrong, who is, or was a year or two since, anundergraduate here. "

"Armstrong, Armstrong?--no man of that name here at present. Ah, Ifancy we had a man here of that name some years since. "

"Could you conveniently inform me how long it is since he left?"

The tutor referred to his lists. 

"He left three years ago. I remember him now--well. "

"My friend would be extremely grateful for any information. He has lostsight of him since he was at Oxford. "

"Well, the fact is Armstrong was not a particular success here. He wasa fairly good scholar, and athlete too, I believe, but his course hereended abruptly. "

"Dear, dear! Do you mean to say he was expelled?"

"Hardly so. But he left the place heavily in debt. At the end of hissecond year he wrote to the authorities to say that the source of supplyon which he had depended for paying his college and other bills (whichhad accumulated to a very considerable extent) had suddenly ceased, andhe was unable to meet his obligations. As he was in destitution, hecould make no suggestion for meeting them, and requested us to accept anundertaking from him to discharge them if possible at a future time. Under the circumstances he was informed that he was not to come upagain, and his name was struck off the books. I believe that since thena few of his debts have been reduced by small instalments. "

"I am very grieved to hear what you tell me. Could you very kindly tellme the address from which he last wrote?"

"If I remember, it was from a coffee-house in London, and he mentionedthat he was hoping to obtain employment as a private tutor in a family. "

"Well, sir, although this is very disagreeable news for my friend. I amsure he will thank you all the same. I suppose you have no idea, beyondthis address in London, what became of him?"

"None. "

"Or where he lived before he came to Oxford?"

"I was looking for that. I see the address on the entrance form is 3, Blue Street, London. "

Captain Oliphant made a note of the address, and after effusive thanks, said good-bye. 

He spent two interesting days in Oxford looking about him and enjoyinghimself considerably. But although he met several men whose names heknew, and made several new acquaintances, he was unable to hear anythingfurther of the defaulting undergraduate of --- College. 

On his return to town, as he had still a day or two to spare, thisindustrious gentleman, with a good deal of trouble, found out Number 3, Blue Street. For a person of his refined tastes it was in a shockinglylow neighbourhood near one of the docks, and Blue Street itself was oneof the shadiest--metaphorically--of its streets. 

It consisted mainly of slop shops, patronised by the shipping interest, and displaying wares of which one half at least might be safely countedupon as stolen property. Number Three, which for some unexplainedreason was located half-way down the street, was an establishment ofthis sort, very offensive to the nose and not at all agreeable to theeye. Old clothes of every fashion and antiquity hung exposed in thedingy window, while within a still larger assortment lay piled up on thecounter. Nor were the clothes all. Second-hand watches, marlinspikes, compasses, spoons, books, boxes, and curiosities crowded the narrowspace, in the midst of which the shrivelled old lady who called herselfproprietress was scarcely visible. 

"Come in--don't be afraid, " cried she, as the captain paused doubtfullyat the door. 

"Is this Number 3, my good woman?"

"Look over the door--'aint you got no eyes?"

"Number 3, Blue Street--this is Blue Street, is it not?"

"If yer doubts it, go and read the name at the end of the street. Whatdo you want? Clothes or money?"

"Neither--I want information, " replied the captain. 

"Then yer've come to the wrong shop. Don't sell it 'ere, so clear out. Do you think I don't know what you're arter?"

"Very well, " said the captain, "that will be so much saved. I shallhave to get for nothing what I meant to pay for. "

She looked at him doubtfully and growled. 

"Why can't yer say what yer want instead of talking gibberish there?"

"If this is Number 3, Blue Street, and you are the same person who washere five years ago--"

"Go on. "

"I may have something to give you from an old lodger; but not till I'msure you have a right to it. "

"What, _him_?"

"Very likely, " said the captain, calmly lighting a cigarette. "I shallknow if you're right, I dare say. "

"Right? Do you suppose I'm made of lodgers! 'Aint you talking aboutthe singing chap--Armstrong he called himself, but at the Hall theycalled him Signor something--Francisco or the likes of that. "

The captain pricked his ears with a vengeance, and in his eagernessrattled the keys encouragingly in his trouser pocket. 

"That won't do, " said he. "I must have come to the wrong place afterall. What sort of looking man was he, and where did he come from?"

"He'd got a pair of arms would knock you into the middle of next week, and when he went down to the Hall--"

"Which Hall?"

"The `Dragon' Music-Hall--what, don't you know it! go on with you--whenhe went there he flashed it with an eye-glass. Lor', you should 'aveheard him sing! He'd a made your hair curl; it was lovely. "

"Ah! he wore an eye-glass and sang, did he?" said the captain. "Andwhere did he come from, and what became of him when he left you?"

"Come from? I don't know. The other end of the world, I fancy myself. Where he went to I don't know neither. I fancy myself he took up with abad lot at the Hall, and turned me up. Howsomever, I got my dues out ofhim, so it's no concern of mine. There you are, mister. Now, what haveyou got for me?"

The captain looked doubtful and shook his head. 

"I'm afraid it's not right after all, " said he. "It doesn't correspondwith the particulars I have. Had you no other lodgers?"

"What did I tell you, " snarled the woman, perceiving she was to be doneout of her reward after all. "Come, are you going to give me what youpromised or not? If you 'aint, clear out of here, my beauty, or I'llbreak every bone of your ugly body. "

And since, with a stick in her hand, she looked very like putting herthreat into execution, the captain beat a hasty retreat, chuckling tohimself at the thought of his own excellent cleverness. 

"Upon my word, " said he to himself as he strolled westward, "I am havinga most interesting time. What a versatile genius my co-trustee appearsto be--a tutor to an heir, a defaulting and rusticated undergraduate, apenniless music-hall cad. Dear, dear! what a curious settlement ofscores we shall have, to be sure--or rather, should have had, had ourpoor dear Roger remained with us. Heigho! what a curious sensation itwill be, to be sure, to own a fortune. "

At the hotel the porter met him with a telegram. He expected as much. He could guess what was inside. It really seemed waste of energy toopen it. 

But he must go through with his melancholy functions, and he thereforetook a seat in the hall and composed his face for the worst. 

 "Thankful to say good night; fever abated, all hopeful. 

 "Rosalind. "

Captain Oliphant turned pale, crushed the pink paper viciously in hishands, and uttered an exclamation which called forth the sympathy of thehotel servants who loitered in the hall. 

"Poor gentleman, " said the lady manager to her clerk, "he's got some badnews in that telegram. "

He had indeed. 

CHAPTER TEN. 

ROBERT RATMAN, ESQUIRE, GENTLEMAN. 

The next morning, as Captain Oliphant, somewhat depressed by the goodnews of last might was, attempting to write to his dear cousinexpression his thankfulness for the mercies vouchsafed to their preciousboy, he was considerably disturbed to feel himself slapped on theshoulder and hear a voice behind him exclaim--

"Got you, my man. How are you, Teddy!"

The captain turned with, a startled face, and confronted a stylishly-dressed man of about thirty-five, who, but for the dissipated look ofhis eyes and the vulgarity of his ornaments, might have passed for agentleman. He wore a light suit--diamonds and turquoises blazed fromhis fingers, a diamond stud flashed from his shirt front, and from hisheavy watch chain hung a bunch of seals and charms enough to supply halfa dozen, men of ordinary pretensions His light hat was tilted at anangle on his head, his brilliant kid boots sparkled beneath the snow-white "spats, " and the lavender gloves he flourished in his hands werelight enough for a ball-room. 

Once he might have been a handsome man. There were still traces ofdetermination about his mouth, his nose was finely cut, and hislustreless eyes still retained occasional flashes of their old spirit. There was a recklessness in his face and demeanour which once, when itbelonged to an honest man, might been attractive; and when he took offhis hat and you saw the well-shaped head with its crisp curly hair, youcould not help feeling that you saw the ruin of a fine fellow. 

It was when he began to talk that you would best understand what a ruinit was. He was chary of his oaths and loose expressions--but when hespoke the words came out vulgarly, with a sleepy, half-tipsy drawl, which jarred on the ear. 

Any words from the lips of Robert Ratman, however, would have jarred onthe ears of Captain Oliphant. 

"Aren't you glad to see me?" said the new arrival, putting his hatcheerfully on the writing-table and helping himself to an easy-chair. "As usual, writing _billets doux_ to the ladies! Ah, Teddy, my boy, atyour time of life too! Now, for a youngster like me--"

"I thought you would not be able to leave Southampton till the end ofthe week?"

"Couldn't resist the temptation of giving you a pleasant surprise. Why, Teddy, you look exactly as if you thought it was the arm of the law onyour shoulder and heard the rattle of the handcuffs. Never mind. They're all safe. I know where they keep them. "

"Ratman, " said the captain, "you have a very poor idea of humour. Youhave made me blot my letter, and I shall have to write it over again. "

"Take your time, old boy. No hurry. I shall not be going away for sixmonths or so. "

Captain Oliphant came to the conclusion he had better finish the letterwith the blot than attempt a new one. Having done so, he put it in hispocket, and turned with a good show of coolness to his guest. 

"When do we run down to Maxfield?" inquired the latter. 

"Not for some time. There is illness in the house. You must wait. "

"Oh, I don't mind if you don't. Who is the invalid? Young Croesus?"

"Yes--dangerously ill. I expect every day to hear that it is all over. "

Ratman laughed. 

"Order two suits of black while you're about it. But, Teddy, my boy, doesn't it strike you you'd be more usefully employed down there thanhere? It seems unfeeling of a guardian to be enjoying himself in townwhile his ward is _in extremis_ at home, doesn't it? Who is nursinghim?"

"My daughter, chiefly. "

Ratman laughed coarsely. 

"Ho, ho, clever Teddy! You've left a deputy to look after yourinterests, have you? Poor boy--no wonder you expect news of him!"

Captain Oliphant, crimson and trembling, rose to his feet. 

"Ratman!" muttered he between his teeth, "I may be all you take me for--but don't talk of my daughter. She--she, "--and he almost choked at theword--"she is as good as I--and you--are black. Talk about me if youlike--but forget that I have children of my own. "

"My dear boy, you are quite amusing. I will make a point of forgettingthe interesting fact. So the boy is being well looked after?"

"Too well, " replied the captain, pulling himself together after his lastoutbreak. "The doctor is daft about him; and besides him, as I toldyou, there is the tutor. "

"Ah! I forgot about him. Is he a nice sort of chap?"

"He's your worst enemy as well as mine. While he is about the placethere's no chance for either of us. "

"Thanks--don't bring me into it. Say there's no chance for you. I cantake care of myself. And how about mamma?"

"She is at present too ill and distracted by her son's danger to thinkof anything else. If the boy dies I shall not need to trouble her. Ifhe gets well, I may find it my duty to become his stepfather. "

"Charming man, and fortunate mamma! Meanwhile, what are you going to dofor me?"

"My dear fellow, you must wait. I can put you up at Maxfield if youbehave decently, but as to money, you will spoil all if you areimpatient. I am not the only trustee, remember. I have to be careful. "

"That's all very well. Sounds beautiful. But do you know, Teddy, I'venot quite as much confidence in you as I should like to have. I can'tenjoy my holiday without some pocket-money. The big lump might wait, ifproperly secured. But the interest would be very convenient to me justnow. What shall I give you a receipt for?" added he, taking a seat atthe table; "a hundred?"

"Don't be a fool, Ratman! I've nothing I can give you just now, " saidthe captain angrily. 

Ratman put down his pen, and whistled a stave, drubbing his fingers onthe table. Then he took the pen again. 

"A hundred, eh?" he repeated. 

The captain ground his teeth in impotent fury. 

"No. Fifty. "

"Thanks very much. I'll make it seventy-five, if you don't mind. "

Captain Oliphant, with black countenance, slowly counted the notes outonto the table, while his friend with many flourishes wrote out thereceipt. Before signing it he counted the money. 

"Quite right, perfectly right. Thanks very much, Teddy. Now let us goout and see the sights. You forget it's years since I was in town. "

"Tell me first, " said the captain, going to the window, was turning hisback, "about that--you know--that affair in--"

"About your robbing the mess-funds?" supplied his friend cheerfully. "Certainly, my dear boy. Quite a simple matter. Shortly after youleft, Deputy-Assistant something or other came with a long face. `Thisis a bad job, ' says he; `your friend Oliphant's left the accounts in anawful mess. Doesn't look well at all. Where is he?' `Nonsense, mydear Deputy-Assistant, ' says I; `must be a mistake. Oliphant's a man ofhis word. Besides, he's just come into a fortune. Bound to be right ifyou look into it. ' `Will you make it good if it's wrong?' asks he. `Don't mind if I do, ' says I, `within reason. He's a young family. '`Only way of hushing it up. Either that or bringing him back between afile of soldiers. ' `You don't mean that?' says I. `What's the figure?'`£750, ' says he. "

"Liar!" growled the captain, wheeling round. "It wasn't half that. "

"They're bound to make something out of it--always happens. Well, asyou'd told me you'd got the pickings of a cool half million, I felt Icouldn't go wrong in covering you. So I came down with five hundred ofneedful. Got them to promise to let the rest stand till I had donemyself the pleasure of a run over here just to remind you that they haveyou on their mind. You've disappointed me, Teddy, my boy, but I won'tdesert you. Don't say you've no friends. I'll stick by you, I ratherfancy. "

The captain was probably able to form a pretty clear estimate how muchof this glib story was fact and how much fiction. 

Whatever the proportion may have been, he had to acknowledge that thisfriend of his held him in an uncomfortable grip, and had better--for thepresent at least--be conciliated. 

So the two went out arm in arm for a stroll--the first of many they tookduring their fortnight's sojourn in town. 

The news from Maxfield became unpleasingly damping. Here, for instance, is a letter the doting father received from his son and heir a weekafter Ratman's arrival. 

"Dear Pater, --Isn't it fizzing that old Roger is pretty nearly out ofthe wood? The fever's come down like anything, and he's getting quitechirpy. I can't fancy how a chap can hang on at all with nothing to eatbut milk. It wouldn't fill up my chinks. If ever I get a fever, keepme going on beefsteak and mashed potatoes. It's been a great larkhaving no lessons. Armstrong's forgotten my existence, I think. He andRosalind have regular rows about sitting up with him--I mean Roger, andRosalind generally has to cave in. It does her good to cave in now andthen. Armstrong's the only one can make her. I can't; nor canBrandram. Brandram's a stunner. I drive him in and out of Yeld everyday, and he's up to no end of larks. And now Roger's pulling round, he's as festive as an owl. Jill's in jolly dumps because she's out ofit all. Rosalind sits on her and tells her she's too much of a kid tobe any good; and she doesn't get much change out of Armstrong. So shehas to knock about with me all day, which is awful slow. I say, go andsee Christy's Minstrels when you're in town, and get them to letJockabilly do the break-down. It will make you split. If that Frenchchap is hanging about, tip him a bob for me and be civil to him, becausehe was decent enough to me. Auntie Eva said something about yourbringing a gentleman home with you. I hope he's a jolly sort of chap. Rosalind's temper is all anyhow. When I told her a visitor was coming, she shut me up with a regular flea in my ear. Never mind, she's been abrick to old Roger and Auntie Eva, so we must make allowances. OldHodder calls up nearly every day to ask after us all. He's grown quiteyoung since he was left alone in his cottage, and Armstrong came downlike a sack of coals on that beast Pottinger. My dear father, if youwould like to know what I most hope you'll bring home for me, it's afootball--Rugby--for the coming winter. Armstrong's promised to coachme in the drop kick. Can you do it? I shall be glad to see you home, as I'm jolly low in pocket-money, besides the affection one feels forthose who are absent. Jill joins in love. 

"Your affectionate `Tom. '

"_P. S_. --Auntie Eva is not nearly so down on her luck now that Roger'staken his turn. If he's well enough she's going to have a little kick-up on his birthday, which will be rare larks. "

"A letter!" inquired Ratman, who had watched the not altogetherdelighted expression on his friend's face as he read it. "Good news?May I read it?"

"If you like, " said the captain, tossing it across the table. 

Ratman, who evidently had a better appreciation of juvenile vagariesthan the father, read it with an amused smile on his face. 

"Nice boy that, " said he; "he and I will be friends. "

"Remember, " said the captain, "our bargain. Do and say what you likewith me, but before my children--"

"Don't be afraid, Teddy, my boy. Depend on me for doing the high moralbusiness. The innocent babes shall never guess that you owe me threeyears' pay, and that I could walk you off to the next police station fora sharper. It's amusing when you come to think of it, isn't it? But, Isay, it looks as if you'll have to trouble mamma after all. The boy'sgetting well in spite of his nurses. I'm really impatient to see thehappy family. When shall we go?"

"Next week. We must be decent, and wait till he's better now. "

"Oh, all right. If we can't go to the funeral we'll go to the birthdayparty, eh? It's all one to me, Teddy, as long as you don't make a foolof me in the long run. "

"You wait, and it'll be all right, " said the captain, with a trace inhis voice of something like desperation. 

At the end of the following week these two nice gentlemen presentedthemselves at Maxfield. Captain Oliphant had written for the broughamto meet them, and as Tom and Jill were in it, Mr Ratman was spared theembarrassment of meeting the whole household at one time. Before thehouse was reached he had impressed Tom with the conviction that therewas a considerable possibility of "larks" in his father's visitor. ButJill, who had acquired the habit of contrasting every gentleman she sawwith her dear Mr Armstrong, was obdurate to his fascinations. 

"I don't want to talk to you, " said she shortly, when for the twentiethtime he renewed his friendly overtures. "I don't like you, and hopeyou're not going to stay long. "

Ratman took his rebuff as complacently as he could; and Jill, havingexhausted her conversation with this outburst, put her handapologetically into her father's, and remained silent the rest of thedrive. 

At Maxfield, the visitor, who appeared to experience no difficulty inmaking himself at home, received a polite welcome from the widow, whosestyle he generally approved, and considered a good deal better than hisgallant comrade deserved. Then, as none of the rest of the householdput in an appearance, he retired serenely to his comfortable apartmentto dress for dinner. 

Captain Oliphant's first anxiety was naturally for his dear young ward. He found him sitting up in an arm-chair, with Rosalind readingShakespeare to him. 

"Hullo, guardian!" said he, "you see the place hasn't got rid of meyet--thanks to my kind nurse here. "

"I am indeed thankful, my dear boy, for your recovery. And how is myRosalind?"

She came and kissed him. 

"Very well, dear father. But Roger has to keep very quiet still, so youmust only stay a minute or two, or I shall get into disgrace with thedoctor. He has been so good. Have you seen cousin Eva?"

"Yes, my child. But come with me; I want to introduce you to MrRatman. "

She looked inclined to rebel, but after a moment closed her book, and, having smoothed the invalid's cushions, followed her father from theroom. 

The captain felt decidedly nervous as she walked silently at his side. At her own door she paused abruptly and said--

"Won't you come in, father? I want to say something to you. "

"A storm brewing, " said the captain to himself. "I expected it. "

He followed her into her studio and closed the door. 

"What is it?"

"I am going to leave Maxfield, father. I cannot stay here any longer, living on other people. I am going to accept an engagement at thevicarage as governess. "

"What!" exclaimed her father. "What freak is this, miss? I forbid youto do anything of the kind. "

"I am very sorry you don't approve. I thought you would. It willenable me to support myself, and perhaps help to keep Jill. I shall getmy board and lodging, and £30 a year, I am going on Monday. I wanted totell you before any one else knew of it. "

"I repeat you must abandon the idea at once. It is most derogatory inone of our family. In addition to which, I particularly desire to haveyou here during Mr Ratman's visit. "

"It is chiefly on that account I have decided to go. It is not right, father, indeed it is not, to go on as we are. "

She put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him, and looked into hiseyes. 

It was an ordeal on which Captain Edward Oliphant had not calculated. The sight of her there, the touch of her hands, the clear flash of hereyes, recalled to him all sorts of unpleasant memories. They remindedhim of a day long ago, when the girl's mother had stood thus and pleadedwith him for the sake of their children to be pure and honest and self-respecting. It reminded him of his own miserable schemings and follies, and how he had rejected that dear appeal, and ever since slipped andslipped out of reach of any love but the love of himself. It remindedhim of the day when he heard that the one prop of his manhood had gonefrom him; and of how, even then, his sorrow was tempered by the thoughtthat he was a free man to follow his own paths without question orreproof. Now, suddenly, the same hands seemed for a moment to lie onhis shoulders, the same eyes to look into his, the same voice to fall onhis ear, and he staggered under the illusion. 

For a moment at least hope was within his reach. But the sound of aman's voice in the passage without recalled him, with a shiver, tohimself. 

It was Ratman's voice--the voice of the man to whom he owed money, whoheld the secret of his crime, who claimed his villainy and--who couldsay?--might even have to be pacified with a human sacrifice. 

He shook her off rudely and said in dry, hard tones--

"Rosalind, I am disappointed in you. I will not discuss the matter withyou. You know my wish; I expect you to obey me. "

And he left the room. 

She remained standing where she was till the bell rang for dinner. Thenwith a shiver she went down-stairs. 

On the stairs she met Mr Armstrong. 

"Your father has returned, " said he. 

"Yes, with a friend. Are you going down, or shall you stay with Roger?"

"May I?" he asked. 

"You know how glad he will be. "

So the tutor turned back, and thought to himself that Miss Rosalind wasevidently anxious that he should not be a witness to her introduction toher father's friend. 

Mr Ratman, brilliantly arranged in evening dress, and evidently alreadyvery much at home, was comfortably leaning against the mantelpiece inthe hall as she descended. He did not wait for an introduction. 

"I could tell Miss Oliphant anywhere, " said he, advancing, "by herlikeness to her father. May I offer you my arm?"

"I am not at all like father, " said she quietly, scanning him as shespoke in a way which made even him uncomfortable, and then putting herhand on her father's arm. 

Thus repulsed, the visitor cheerfully offered his arm to Mrs Ingleton, congratulating her as he did so on the recovery of her son. 

During the meal he was aware that the young lady's eyes were completingtheir scrutiny, and although, being a bashful man, he did not venturetoo often to meet them with his own, he was conscious that the resultwas not altogether satisfactory to himself. His few attempts to talk toher fell flat, and in spite of the captain's almost nervous attempts toimprove the festivity of the occasion, the meal was an uncomfortableone. 

"Where's old Armstrong?" demanded Tom. 

"With Roger, " replied Rosalind. 

"Have you seen Armstrong?" inquired the boy of the visitor; "he's astunner, I can tell you. He can bend a poker double across his knee. You'll like him awfully; and he plays the piano like one o'clock. He'sour tutor, you know--no end of a chap. "

Mr Ratman was fain to express a longing desire to make the acquaintanceof so redoubtable a hero. 

"Does he lick you?" he inquired. 

"Sometimes, when it's wanted; but, bless you, he could take the lot ofus left-handed; couldn't he, Jill?"

"Oh, yes, " said Jill enthusiastically; "and he saved Roger's life, andprevented Hodder being turned out, and won such a lot of prizes atOxford. "

"He must be a fine fellow, " said Ratman, with a disagreeable laugh. "You admire him too, of course, Miss Oliphant?"

"Yes, he's honest, " said she. 

"Teddy, my boy, " said the visitor, when he and his friend had been leftalone at the table, "that girl of yours is a treasure. She don't fancyme, but she'll get over that. I like her, Teddy; I like her. "

That evening, on his way to say good night to his dear ward, CaptainOliphant stopped at his daughter's door. 

She was hard at work over a picture. 

"Rosalind, " said he, "you have disappointed me. But if your mind ismade up, I know it is no use my setting up my authority against yourself-will. Therefore, to relieve you of the sin of disobedience to yourfather's wishes, I withdraw my refusal to your proposal. You may do asyou like. Good night!"

CHAPTER ELEVEN. 

AWKWARD QUESTIONS. 

The sun, when it peeped through the blinds next morning, found MrRobert Ratman wide awake. His was one of those active minds which donot waste unnecessary time in sluggish repose, but, on the contrary, doa principal part of their most effective brain-work while other peopleare asleep. 

"Snug enough so far, " said he to himself, turning over on his side. "The place will suit me after all. Capital table, easy-going hostess, charming young Bohemian to amuse me, money going about, and all that. Teddy wants stirring up. I shall have to flick him a bit. He'll gowell enough when he's once started, but he's wasting his time heredisgracefully. Eight months since he came, and absolutely nothing done!The boy's not buried, the mother's not married, and the tutor's not hadhis month's notice, (Like to see this precious tutor, by the way. ) Uponmy honour, it's about time I came and opened shop here. "

And with a grunt he got out of bed, and began to array himselfpreparatory to a stroll round the park before breakfast. 

It was a delicious September morning. The birds, hardly convinced thatthe summer was over, were singing merrily in the trees. The hum of thenot distant ocean droned solemnly in the air. The sunlight playedfitfully with the gold of the harvest fields, and the lowing cattle inthe meadows added their music to nature's peaceful morning anthem. 

Mr Ratman was only half alive to the beauties of nature. He wasconsiderably more impressed with the substantial masonry of the manorhouse, with the size of the timber, the appointments of the stables, andthe acreage of the park. They all spelt money to him--suggesting a gooddeal more behind. 

"Teddy's certainly a man to be looked after, " said he to himself. "He'swasting his time scandalously. Yet he's clever in his way, is Edward. He has tucked his family into the big bed snugly, and made the most ofhis chance that way. Why--"

He had reached this pleasant stage in his reflections when somethingdarted round from a side-walk and collided with him suddenly. 

It was Miss Jill, taking an early scamper with her dog, and littledreaming that she was not, as usual, the sole occupant of the grounds. 

"Hullo! my little lady, " said Mr Ratman, recognising his enemy ofyesterday; "you nearly did for me that time. Come, you'll have to tellme you are sorry, and beg my pardon very prettily. "

"No, I won't!" exclaimed Jill, and proceeded to run. 

Mr Ratman was not beyond a bit of fun himself; besides, he did notquite like to be thus set down by a child of twelve. Therefore, although his running days had passed their prime, he gave chase, and avery exciting race ensued. 

Jill, as fleet as the wind, darted forward with little to fear from herpursuer; while the dog, naturally regarding the whole affair as anentertainment got up for his benefit, barked jubilantly, and did hisbest to force the pace. After a minute or two Mr Ratman began towonder if the game was worth the candle, and was turning over in hismind the awkward possibility of owning himself beaten, when he perceivedthat the little fugitive was, by some error of judgment on her part, leading the way into what looked uncommonly like a _cul de sac_. Therefore, although painfully aware of the stitch in his side, hebravely held on, and had the gratification in a minute more of runninghis little victim to earth after all. 

"Aha!" said he, laughing and panting; "you can't get away from me, yousee. Now, my little beauty, I'm going to take you back in custody tothe place where you started from, and make you beg my pardon veryprettily for nearly knocking me over. "

In vain Jill protested and struggled; he held her by the wrist as with avice, and, rather enjoying her wild efforts to escape, literallyproceeded to carry his threat into execution. 

He had nearly brought her back to the starting-place, and she, havingfought and struggled all the way, was beginning with humiliation to feelher eyes growing dim with tears, when a gentleman dressed in boatingflannels, with one arm in a sling and an eye-glass in his eye, steppedabruptly across the path. 

A moment later Mr Robert Ratman lay on the grass half a dozen yardsaway, on the flat of his back, blinking up at the sky. 

Several curious reflections passed through his mind as he occupied thisnot very exhilarating position. Jill had escaped after all. That wasannoying. He should have a black eye for a week. That was veryannoying. This left-handed individual with the eye-glass must be thetutor. That was most excessively annoying. 

And the injured gentleman, neither looking nor feeling at all well, pulled himself together and sprang to his feet. 

Jill was there, clinging to her champion. "Run away, Jill!" saidArmstrong. 

"But you have only one arm, " said she. "Go, Jill!" said he, sodecisively that the little maid, darting only one look behind her, fledtowards the house. 

All she saw was the two men facing one another--one flurried, vicious, and noisy; the other curious, silent, disgusted. 

"You dog!" hissed Ratman, with an oath, "what do you mean by that?"

"My meaning should have been clear--it was intended to be. "

Ratman tried hard to copy his adversary's composure, but failedmiserably. 

With many imprecations, and, heedless of the tutor's maimed condition, he threw himself upon him. 

But Robert Ratman's boxing, like his running, was a trifle out of date, and once more he found himself on his back regarding the clouds as theyflitted by overhead. 

This time the tutor assumed the initiative. 

"Get up, " said he, advancing to his prostrate antagonist. 

Ratman was surprised at himself when, after a moment's doubt, he obeyed. 

"What's your name?" demanded Mr Armstrong, surveying him from head tofoot. 

Again, by some curious mental process, Mr Ratman obeyed. 

"What are you doing down here?"

"I am Captain Oliphant's guest, " growled Ratman. 

The tutor looked him up and down in a manner which was clearly notcalculated to imply admiration of Captain Oliphant's choice of friends. 

"Allow me to tell you, sir, that in this part of the world we call menlike you blackguards. "

And the tutor, whose eye-glass had become uncomfortably deranged duringthis brief interview, screwed it in with a wrench, and turned on hisheel. 

"Where's jolly old Ratman?" inquired Tom, when the family presentlyassembled for breakfast. 

"Tired with his journey, no doubt, " said Mrs Ingleton. 

As no one disputed this theory, and Jill's exchange of glances with herchampion passed unheeded, there seemed every prospect of the mealpassing off peaceably. But Tom, as usual, contrived to improve theoccasion in the wrong direction. 

"You'll like him, Armstrong, when you see him. He's no end of a chap--all larks. He'll make you roar with his rummy stories. "

"I have met him already, " said the tutor shortly. 

"Then he is up. Jill, my child, " said the captain, "go and knock at MrRatman's door, and tell him breakfast is ready. "

"I won't go near him, " said Jill, flushing up. "He's a horrid, hatefulman. Isn't he, Mr Armstrong?"

Mr Armstrong, thus appealed to, looked a little uncomfortable, andnodded. 

"Yes, " blurted the girl; "and if it hadn't been for Mr Armstrong, father, he might have hurt me very much. "

"Explain yourself, " said the fond father, becoming interested. 

"I don't want to talk about him, " said Jill. 

"What does all this mean, Armstrong?"

"As far as I am concerned, it means that I took the liberty of knockingMr Ratman down for insulting your daughter. I am sorry you were notpresent to do it yourself. "

Captain Oliphant turned white, and red, and black in succession. 

"You knocked a visitor of mine--"

"Down twice, " said the tutor, helping himself to sugar. 

"Oh, what a lark!" exclaimed Tom. "Oh, I wish I'd been up too. Was ita good mill, I say? How many rounds? Six? Why ever didn't you comeand tell me, Jill?"

"Be quiet, Tom, " said Jill. 

"Did you get him clean on the jaw, I say?" persisted Tom, "like theone--"

"Hold your tongue, sir, " said his father peremptorily. "Mr Armstrong, I must ask you to explain this matter later; this is not the place forsuch talk. "

"Quite so. I regret the matter was referred to. Tom, be good enough topass Miss Oliphant the toast. "

Tom could scarcely be induced to take the hint, and talked at large onthe science of boxing during the remainder of the meal with an access ofhigh spirits which, on any other occasion, would have been amusing. 

Mr Ratman, later in the day, appeared with a decidedly marred visage, and announced with the best grace he could that an important businessletter that morning necessitated his return to London. 

In private he explained himself more fully to his host. 

"If this is what you call making me comfortable, " growled he, with anunusual number of oaths interspersed in his sentence, "you've a prettynotion of your own interests. "

"My dear fellow, how could I help it?"

"You can help it now, and you'll have to. I may be only a creditor, butI'll let you see I am not going to be treated in this house like a dog, for all that. "

"The awkward thing is that if you had behaved--"

"Shut up about how I behaved, " snarled the other. "You'll have to clearthat cad out of the way here. I'll not come back till you do; and tillI do come back you're sitting on a volcano. "

"My dear fellow, you will spoil everything if you take such an absurdview of the matter--really you will. Of course I'll put you right. Youare my guest. But remember my difficult position here. "

"It will be a precious deal more difficult for you soon. I can promiseyou, " said Mr Ratman, lifting his hand to his swollen eye with an oath. "Now then, I'll give you a month. If you're not rid of this fellow bythen, and aren't a good deal nearer than you are now to squaring up withme, you'll be sorry you ever heard my name. "

"I'm that already, " said the captain. "I can promise nothing; but I'lldo what I can. "

"You'll have to do more, if you're to get rid of me. How about money?"

This abrupt question fairly staggered the captain, who broke out--

"Money! Didn't you drain me of every penny I had in London?"

The fellow laughed coarsely. 

"What did you drain the regimental mess of, I should like to know? Youneedn't think you're out of that wood. Now, I shall want £200 for mymonth in town. I mean to enjoy myself. "

The captain laughed dismally. "Where are you going to get it from?"

"You. Look sharp!"

"I tell you, Ratman, I haven't any money. You can't get blood out of astone. "

"Then you must give me a bill--at a month. "

"No, no! I won't begin that, " said the captain, who had fibre enoughleft in him to know that a bill was the first plunge into an unknownregion of financial difficulty. "If you're bent on ruining me in anycase, for heaven's sake do it at once and have done with it. Remember, you bring down more than me. Whatever I may be, they don't deserve it. "

"For their sake, then, give me the bill. Bless you, any one can put hishand to paper. Consider yourself lucky I don't insist on taking it outin hard cash. "

It was no use arguing or protesting with a man like this. The captainflung himself miserably into a chair and scrawled out the ill-omeneddocument. 

Ratman snatched it up with a grunt of triumph. 

"That's more like, " said he. "What's the use of all that fuss? Plentyof things can happen in a month. Order the dogcart in half an hour. "

The abrupt departure of Captain Oliphant's guest might have excited moreremark than it did, had not another departure from Maxfield that sameday thrown it somewhat into the shade. 

True to her promise, or rather threat, Miss Rosalind had packed up herthings and had them transported to the Vicarage. 

It was not without a pang that she uprooted herself from hersurroundings in Maxfield, or bore the protests of Roger, the tears ofJill, and the chaff of Tom for her desertion. 

"It's not that you're not all awfully kind, " said she to the first thatafternoon, when the party was assembled in his room. "You are tookind--that's why I'm going. "

"If a little of the opposite treatment would induce you to stay, " saidRoger, "I'd gladly try it. Don't you think it's a little unkind of herto go when we all want her to stay--eh, Armstrong?"

"That depends, " said Mr Armstrong diplomatically. "I should beinclined to say no, myself. "

"Thank you, Mr Armstrong, I'm glad I've got one person to back me up. Every one else is down on me--auntie, father, Roger, Jill, Tom--"

"I'm not down on you, " put in Tom. "I think it's rather larks yourgoing to the Vicarage. No more of that beastly art class for us. Butif you want to know who's down on you, it's jolly old Ratman. I've justbeen to see him off in the tantrums to London. I asked him to be sureand be back for Roger's birthday, and he said he'd try, if his black eyewas well enough. That must have been a ripping clean shot of yours, Armstrong. He'll get over it all right, you bet. He was grinning aboutit already, and said he'd have a return some day. I asked him if hedidn't think Rosalind was a stunner (one's got to be civil to fellows, you know), and he said `Rather, ' and envied the kids at the Vicarage. Idon't. You always make yourself jolly civil to other people, but Idon't come in for much of it, nor does Jill. "

"I can't bear your going away, " said Jill, with tears in her eyes; "I'llbe so lonely. But it would be far worse if Mr Armstrong were to goaway too. You'll stay, won't you, dear Mr Armstrong?"

Dear Mr Armstrong jerked his eye-glass by way of assent, and said hewas sure everybody would miss Miss Oliphant and-- and he would say good-bye now, as he had some letters to get off by the post. 

Miss Rosalind, who had just been thinking a little kindly of the tutor, stiffened somewhat at this abrupt exit, and thought Mr Armstrong mightat least have offered to escort her over to her new quarters. 

To tell the truth, that poor gentleman would have given a finger off hishand for the chance, and retired to his room very dejected about thewhole business--so dejected that he fidgeted about his room a good whilebefore he noticed a note addressed to himself, in Captain Oliphant'shand, lying on the table. He opened it and read--

 "Mr Frank Armstrong is informed that his services as tutor to Roger Ingleton will not be required after this day month, the 25th _prox_. Mr Armstrong is at liberty to remain at Maxfield until that date, or may leave at once on accepting a month's wages in lieu of notice. --For the Executors of Roger Ingleton, --

 "Edward Oliphant. "

The tutor's lips curled into a grim smile as he perused this pleasingdocument, and then tossed it into the waste-paper basket. He relievedhis feelings with a few chords on the piano, and then, after a few moreuneasy turns in his room, went off to call on his co-trustee. 

On his way down-stairs he met Rosalind and her escort about to taketheir departure. 

"Come along with us, do!" said Tom. "We're just going to trot Rosalindover to her diggings, and then we can have a high old lark in thepaddock on our way back. "

"The programme is not attractive, Thomas, " said the tutor. "Good-byeagain, Miss Oliphant. "

Captain Oliphant had already bidden his daughter a tender farewell, andwas enjoying a cigar in the library. 

"Oh, " said he, as the tutor entered, "you got my note, did you, sir?"

"I did, thanks. "

"Well, sir?"

"That was the question I was about to ask you. Excuse my saying it, butit was a very foolish note for a man in your position to write. DidMrs Ingleton--"

"Mrs Ingleton has decided, on my advice, to send her son to Oxford. Ihave recently been there, and made inquiries. "

"Indeed! I'll join you in your smoke, if you don't mind, " and the tutordrew a chair up to the table and filled his pipe. 

Captain Oliphant was considerably disconcerted at this cool reception ofhis piece of news; but, warned by previous experiences, he forbore tobluster. 

"I think the life will suit him. He is wasting his time here. "

"If his health improves sufficiently, " said the tutor, "there is a gooddeal to be said in favour of the University. "

"You think so, do you?" said his co-guardian drily. "You are an Oxfordman yourself, I understand. "

"Yes; I was at --- College. "

"So I heard from a friend of mine there, who remembered your name. "

Mr Armstrong twitched his glass a little and puffed away. 

"Yes, " said the captain, encouraged by this slight symptom ofuneasiness; "I heard a good deal about you up there, as it happened. "

"Kind of you to take so much interest in me. You ascertained, ofcourse, that I left Oxford in debt and without a degree?"

This was check again for the captain, who had counted upon thisdiscovery as an effective bombshell for his side. 

"As regards Roger, however, " proceeded the tutor, reaching across forthe captain's ash-tray, "I would advise Balliol in preference to--"

"We shall not need to trouble you for your advice. "

"But I shall most certainly give it. "

By this time Captain Oliphant's self-control was rapidly evaporating. He was beginning to feel himself a little small, and that always annoyedhim. 

"Look here, Mr Frank Armstrong, " said he, leaning back in his chair, and trying hard to look superior, "it is just as well for you and me tounderstand one another. I have heard what sort of figure you cut atOxford, and the disgrace in which you left the University. Allow me tosay, sir, that it reflects little credit on your honour that you shouldhave imposed on your late employer, and taken advantage of his weakhealth and faculties to foist yourself upon his family under falsecolours. "

"Will you oblige me with a light?" interposed Mr Armstrong. 

"You are under a delusion if you think I am not perfectly wellacquainted with your disreputable antecedents. Let me tell you, sir, that a music-hall cad is not a fitting companion for a lad of Roger'srank and expectations. "

"I perfectly agree with you. But really this has very little to do withour arrangements for Roger's future. "

"Do you mean to deny, sir, that you were a music-hall singer?"

"By no means. I was. On the whole, I rather enjoyed the vocation atthe time. I look upon that and the year (about which you apparentlyhave not been fortunate enough to learn anything) during which I wastutor and private secretary in the family of the Hon. James Welcher--the most notorious blackleg in the kingdom--as two of the mostinteresting episodes in my career. "

"I can believe it. And, before you devoted your energies to singingdisreputable songs to the blackguards of the East End--"

"Pardon me. I was particular. My songs were for the most part of theclassical order; but what were you saying?"

"I was saying, " said the captain, now fairly dropping the dignified, andfalling back on the abusive, "what were you before that?"

"Really, Captain Oliphant, you have been so acute and successful so far, I would not on any account deprive you of the satisfaction ofdiscovering what little more remains to complete my humble biography byyour own exertions. Meanwhile, as to Roger's college; had you leisurewhen at Oxford to make any inquiries as to that rather importantquestion?"

"Oblige me by addressing your conversation to some one else, sir. I amnot disposed to be asked questions by an adventurer and sharper, who--"

The tutor's face blackened, the glass fell from his eye, and he rose tohis feet so suddenly that the chair on which he had been sitting fellback violently. 

Captain Oliphant turned pale and started to his feet too in an attitudeof self-defence and retreat. But the tutor only walked over to thefireplace to knock out his ashes into the fender, and then, resuming hisglass, said quietly--

"I beg your pardon; I interrupted you. " Captain Oliphant did not pursuethe subject, and presently retired, leaving his co-trustee master of thesituation. 

"Strange, " said the latter to himself when the enemy had gone, "what alook he has of his daughter. The resemblance was distinctly fortunatefor him five minutes ago. "

CHAPTER TWELVE. 

A WINDFALL FOR THE CAPTAIN. 

The impending birthday festivities at Maxfield were a topic of interestto others than merely the residents at the manor-house. There, indeed, the prospect was considerably damped by the failing health of MrsIngleton and the absence of Rosalind from the scene of action. Theburden of the arrangements fell upon the tutor, who only half relishedthe duties of _major domo_, and heartily wished the uncomfortable datewas past. Mrs Ingleton, however, ill as she was, was intent oncelebrating the occasion in a manner becoming the hospitable traditionsof the house of which her son was now the head, and accordingly, a largeparty of the neighbouring gentry was invited for the occasion. 

Among the uninvited guests one individual was anticipating the eventwith considerable interest. This was Robert Ratman, Esquire, as helounged comfortably on a sofa at the "Grand Hotel" in London, andperused a letter which had just reached him by the post. 

"I shall have to get you to take another bill in place of the one I gaveyou, due on the 26th. The fact is, I forgot that was the day of myward's twentieth birthday, when there are to be celebrations atMaxfield, " ("What on earth has that to do with it?" grunted the reader). "If you will take my advice you will postpone your return here tillafter that date. In any case, please understand I am unable to attendto money matters at present. It may interest you to know that the tutoris under notice to leave, " (here the reader uttered a not verycomplimentary expletive), "also that I am on the best of terms with thefair widow. 

"E. O. "

"Thinks I'm a fool, does he?" grunted Mr Ratman; "I shall have toundeceive him there. "

So he laid down his cigar and wrote--

 "Dear Teddy, --It sounds very nice, but it's not good enough. You've mistaken your man, my boy. You'll have to stump up £100 on the day, and I'll wait a month for the rest and interest. I shall be on the spot to receive it and join in the festivities. If you are not lying, you deserve credit for getting rid of the tutor. See he is packed off before I come; and see I get no more impertinence from those brats of yours, unless you wish trouble to their father. 

 "Yours, --

 "R. R. "

The receipt of this genial epistle considerably marred the pleasure withwhich Captain Oliphant looked forward to the approaching festivities atMaxfield. 

It had been bad enough to have the Oxford scheme and all it involvedfall through. Roger had explained in his pleasant manner that he wasnot disposed to accept his guardian's advice as to a University courseat present; and as his decision was backed up by both Mrs Ingleton andMr Armstrong, the poor man found himself in a minority, and no nearer asolution to his difficulties than before. 

In addition to this, Roger was every day recovering health, and, inRosalind's absence, devoting himself more loyally than ever to histutor's direction and instruction. 

Altogether Captain Oliphant had a dismal consciousness of being out inthe cold. His carefully thought cut plans seemed to advance no further. Mrs Ingleton's ill-health was an unlooked-for difficulty. He evenbegan to suspect that when he did screw himself up to the point ofproposing he should make by no means as easy a conquest of the fairwidow as he had flattered himself. She, good lady, liked him as herboy's guardian, but in his own personal capacity was disappointinglyindifferent to his attentions. 

With all these worries upon him it was little wonder if Mr Ratman'sletters hurt his feelings. 

He was very much inclined to throw up the sponge and vanish from theMaxfield horizon, and might have attempted the feat had not a letterwhich arrived on the following day suggested another way out of hisdifficulties. It came from America, addressed to the late Squire, andread thus--

 "Dear Ingleton, --I guess you've forgotten the scape-grace brother-in- law who, thirty-six years ago, on the day you married his sister Ruth, borrowed a hundred pounds of you without the slightest intention of paying you back. He has not forgotten you. Your hundred pounds started me in life right away here, where I am now a boss and mayor of my city. I've put off being honest as long as I can, but can't well manage it any longer. I send you back the money in English bank- notes, and another hundred for interest. It won't do you much good, but I reckon I'll sleep better at night to have got rid of it. I saw in the papers the death of my sister, and her son, my nephew. Such is life! I got more good from that marriage than she did. I take for granted you are still in the old place, and, like all the Ingletons I ever met, alive and kicking. 

 "Yours out of debt, --

 "Ralph Headland. "

Captain Oliphant read and re-read this curious letter, and hummed a tuneto himself. He gave a professional twitch to each of the hundred-poundnotes, and held them up one after the other to the light. Then heexamined the post-mark on the envelope, and failed to decipher the nameof the town. 

"Very singular, " said he to himself, tapping his fingers on theenvelope. "Quite like a chapter in a story. Really it restores one'sfaith in one's fellow-man to find honesty asserting itself in this wayafter thirty-six years' suppression. Our dear one must have forgottenthis debt years ago; or written it off as a gift. I'm sure he would nothave liked to accept it now. Very singular indeed!"

Then he hummed on for five minutes, and tried to recall what he had beenthinking about before the letter came. He fancied it was about Ratman. Yes, Ratman was a bad man, and must be got rid of, not so much on thecaptain's account as for the sake of the innocent darlings whosehappiness he threatened. 

And as if there were some connection between the two ideas, captainOliphant abstractedly put the two notes into his own pocket, andproceeded thoughtfully to tear up the letter and envelope of theAmerican mayor. 

He had hardly completed this function when the door opened and Rosalindsailed in, looking particularly charming after a breezy walk across thepark. 

She had rarely seen her father in better and more amiable spirits. 

"Ah, my dear child, " said he; "it does one good to see you again. Aweek's absence is a long time. And how are you getting on at theVicarage?"

"They are awfully kind to me, " said Rosalind, "and I like my littlepupils. I half wish it was harder work. As it is, I get time for alittle art in between lessons. I've come over to-day to finish mypicture of the old tower for Roger's birthday. "

"Ah, to be sure. The dear boy's birthday is getting near. We shalldepend on you to help us here on the day, Rosalind. So they make youhappy, do they? I am very glad to hear it. Have you all you want?"

"Everything, dear father; and it makes all the difference to me to feelI am supporting myself. "

"Brave little puss. See now, " added the fond parent, taking out acouple of sovereigns from his purse. 

"I want you to take these to get any little trifle which may add to yourcomfort. I have not been very lavish with pocket-money, but I thinkjust now you may find this useful. Take it, my dear child, and blessyou. "

"Really, I have all I--"

"You must not refuse me, daughter; it will please me if you take it. "

So Rosalind kissed her father gratefully, and said she should be sure tofind the money useful, if he could really spare it. And he, good man, only wished it were twice as much. 

"I have just had a note, " said he, "from Mr Ratman, who announces hisreturn on the 25th. During the few days he remains, my dear Rosalind, Ithink you should try, even if it cost you an effort, to be friendly. After all, he is an old comrade, and I have reasons for desiring not tooffend him. "

"Oh, why ever do you let him come back after the unkind way he behavedto Jill? I'm sure he is a bad man, father. Indeed, I wonder at histhinking of coming at all after what has happened. "

"I dare say his manner may have been rough; but it was meant only ingood-natured fun. Let us think no more about that. I was annoyed atthe whole affair; but I must ask you, Rosalind, not to give himunnecessary offence when he comes again. "

"I can't pretend to like people I detest, " said she; "but if he conductshimself like a gentleman, and goes away soon, there needn't be anytrouble about it. " And she went off to rejoice Roger with a visit. 

During the week that followed, Captain Oliphant impressed the wholefamily with his chastened good-humour. 

He paid a friendly call at the Vicarage, and expressed his obligationsto the vicar and his wife for their consideration, and trusted hisdaughter, who (though he said so who should not), he was sure was aconscientious girl--would do her work well and requite them for theirkindness. 

He bought Tom his longed-for football, and ordered from town a handsomedressing-case for his dear ward. He delighted Miss Jill by allowing herto drive him in his rounds among the tenantry, when he had a friendlyword for everybody. 

Jill, in charge of the reins, was as happy as a queen, and quitecaptivated by her father's cheerful good-humour. 

"I wonder what makes you so jolly, " she said, as they spanked along thecountry lanes to Yeld, "dear, dear old daddy? I shall always drive younow, for you see I can manage the pony, can't I? Mr Armstrong taughtme. He says I shall make a first-rate whip. I'm sure I was very stupidwhen I first tried; but he is ever so patient. He scolds sometimes, buthe always lets me know when he's pleased; so I don't mind. Do you know, father, I'd give my head for Mr Armstrong any day, I like him so?"

Captain Oliphant shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't equal to coping witha case of sheer infatuation. 

"I'm sure, " persisted Jill, flicking the pony into a trot, "he's fiftymillion times as nice as that horrible Mr Ratman. "

"Mr Ratman is a friend of mine, " said her father, "and I fear he mustthink you a very silly little girl to object to a bit of fun as youdid. "

"I don't mind what he thinks. It wasn't fun at all. He hurt me verymuch. Ugh!"

"Well, he was very much annoyed, and so was I, at what happened; andwhen he comes here again next week--"

"Is he coming again next week?"

"Yes. "

"All right. I shall run away then--or if I can't do that, I shall keepa knife in my pocket. _Please_, father, don't let him come!"

And the child nearly cried in her eagerness. 

"Listen to me, Jill, " said her father sternly. "Unless you can behaveyourself sensibly I shall be very angry indeed. I expect you to bepolite to Mr Ratman while he is here. "

"He'd better be polite to young ladies, " said the irrepressible Jill. "If he doesn't, I know somebody who will make him. "

"Be silent, miss, and bear in mind my wishes. "

That afternoon Captain Oliphant sent a polite message to his co-trusteerequesting the favour of an interview. 

Mr Armstrong found him in an unusually balmy frame of mind, anxious togo into the executorship accounts. 

Everything was square and exact. The rents and other receipts were allin order, and the amount duly paid into the bank. The tutor quiteadmired his colleague's aptitude for figures, and the lucid manner inwhich he accounted for every farthing which had passed through hishands. He was hardly prepared for such precision, and there and thenmodified the previous bad impression he had formed. 

"It is necessary to be particular in money matters, " said the captain, "especially where the money of others is involved. Perhaps you willcheck my figures, sir, and let me know if you agree in the result. "

Mr Armstrong spent an afternoon painfully going over the agent's andbanker's accounts, and satisfying himself that all was absolutelycorrect and in order. He countersigned the balance-sheet, and went outof his way to thank Captain Oliphant for taking so much of the labour asto save both him and Mrs Ingleton a great deal of time. 

"Thank you, " said the captain drily; "a compliment from Signor Franciscois worth receiving. But it is uncalled-for. Good afternoon, sir. "

Mr Armstrong flushed, and screwed his glass violently in his eye. 

"A civil, pleasant-spoken gentleman, " said he to himself as he returnedto his room. 

A few days later, the day before the birthday, Captain Oliphant receiveda telegram couched in the following lordly terms--

 "Arrive 5. 30. Send trap to meet me. --Ratman. "

He frowned to himself as he read it. The tone did not betoken peace. It rather called to mind a good many unpleasant reflections, the chiefof which was that Mr Ratman would find matters no further advanced asregarded the widow, the heir, or the tutor. The only comfort was thathe could hardly make himself disagreeable about the bill. 

The coachman was sent down with the dogcart; but if Mr Ratman expectedany further demonstration of welcome, he was disappointed. MrsIngleton was in bed; Jill was dining at the Rectory; Roger and Armstrongwere taking a long ride; Tom was poaching on the Maxfield preserves. Only Captain Oliphant was at home. 

"Oh, you're here to receive me, are you?" snarled the visitor. "Howlong has it taken you to organise this flattering reception, I shouldlike to know?"

"I really have nothing to do with other persons' arrangements, " said thecaptain. "If they happen to be out, it's not my concern. "

"But it's mine. You ought to have sent the heir down to meet me--I'venot seen him yet--and had those girls of yours here to give me afternoontea. Where are they?"

The captain attempted to explain. 

"That won't do for me, " said the visitor, "not by any means. Theyshould have been on the spot. When did the tutor leave?"

"He is still here. "

"Still here!" said Ratman, with a curse. "Didn't I tell you he was tobe packed off before I came?"

"You said a good many things, Ratman. I expected he would have gone afortnight ago; but he can't be moved. "

Ratman growled out a string of oaths. 

"Get me some tea, " said he, "and tell them to take my traps upstairs. What time do we dine?"

"I was going to propose that we should dine together in my room atseven, " said the captain. 

"Not good enough. I'll dine with the lot of you at the big table. Andnow, about my bill. "

Now was the captain's turn. 

"What about it?" said he. 

"What about it? I want the money for it--that's what's about it. "

"All right, keep your temper. You shall have the hundred to-morrow whenit's due. "

Ratman glanced up at his host with a leer. 

"Whose till have you been robbing now?" he said. 

Captain Oliphant frowned. 

"You haven't a very genial way about you, Ratman. Try a cigar. "

"Oh, bless you, " said he, "I ask no questions. It's all one to me, solong as it's solid pounds, shillings and pence. "

"You wait till to-morrow, and it will be all right, " said the Captain;"and meanwhile, my dear fellow, try to make yourself agreeable, anddon't spoil sport by being unreasonably exacting. Ah, here's the tea!"

At dinner that evening, Mr Ratman found his only companions CaptainOliphant, Roger, and Mr Armstrong. The talk was difficult, the captainworking hard to give his guest a friendly lead; Mr Armstrong trying toappear oblivious of the fact that he had knocked the fellow down twicefor a cad; and Roger as head of the house, trying to be affable to aperson whom he had expected to find detestable, and who quite came up toexpectations. 

As the meal went on Mr Ratman showed alarming symptoms of requiring nofriendly lead to encourage his powers of conversation. Despite hishost's deprecatory signals, he began to tell stories of an offensivecharacter, and joke about matters not generally held to be amusing in acompany of gentlemen. Captain Oliphant grew hot and nervous. MrArmstrong leant back coolly in his chair, and kept his eye curiously onthe speaker, an apparently interested listener. Roger, after the firstsurprise, flushed wrathfully and fidgeted ominously with his napkinring. 

He was nearly at the end of his tether, and an awkward scene might haveensued, had not Tom opportunely broken in upon the party, very hungryand flushed with a good afternoon's sport. 

"Hullo, Ratman!" said he, greeting the visitor; "turned up again? Gotover your black eye all right? I've told Armstrong to let me know whenthe next mill comes off, and I'll hold the sponge? Been telling themsome of your rummy stories? I roared over that you told me about the--"

"Be quiet, Tom, and go and wash yourself before dinner, " said hisfather. 

"All right. But I say, Ratman, you'd better steer clear of my youngsister Jill. She's got a downer on you, and so has--"

"Do you hear, sir?" shouted the father. 

Somehow this genial interruption robbed Mr Ratman of his ideas, andstopped the flow of his discourse, much to the relief of the remainderof the party. 

"Well?" said Mr Armstrong, when he and his ward met afterwards in theroom of the latter, "how do you like our new visitor?"

"So badly that I am thankful for once that Rosalind has gone. "

Mr Armstrong looked hard at his ward for a moment. Then he twitchedhis glass uncomfortably, and replied in an absent sort of way--

"Quite so--quite so. "

CHAPTER THIRTEEN. 

A VOICE FROM THE DEAD. 

Roger Ingleton's reflections, as he lay awake on the morning of histwentieth birthday, were not altogether self-congratulatory. He waspainfully aware that he was what he himself would have styled a poorcreature. He was as weak, physically, as a girl; he was notparticularly clever; he was given to a melancholy which made him passfor dull in society. Ill-health dogged him whenever he tried to achieveanything out of the commonplace. His tenantry regarded him still as aboy, and very few of his few friends set much store by him for his ownsake apart from his fortune. 

"A poor show altogether, " said he to himself. "That boy on the wallthere would have made a much better thing of it. There's some go inhim, especially the copy that Rosalind--"

Here he pulled up. In addition to his other misfortunes, it occurred tohim now definitely for the first time that he was in love. 

"She doesn't care two straws about me, " said he ungratefully; "that is, except in a sisterly way. Why should she? I know nothing about art, which she loves. I'm saddled with pots of money, which she hates. Theonly way I can interest her is by being ill. I'm not even scape-graceenough to make it worth her while to take me in hand to reform me. Heigho! It's a pity that brother of mine had not lived. Yes, you, " headded, shaking his head at the portrait, "with your wild harum-scarumface and mocking laugh. You'd have suited her, and been able to makeher like you--I can't. I believe she thinks more of Armstrong than me. Not much wonder either. Only, wouldn't he be horrified if any onesuggested such a thing!"

And the somewhat dismal soliloquy ended in a some what dismal laugh, asthe heir of Maxfield assumed the perpendicular and pulled up his blind. 

Mr Armstrong, fresh from his dip in the sea, came in before he hadfinished dressing. 

"Well, old fellow, " said he, "many happy returns! How are you--prettyfit?"

"I'm not sorry there's a year between each, " said the boy. 

"What's wrong?" said the tutor. 

"Oh, nothing; only I don't feel particularly festive. I've been lyingawake a long time. "

"Pity you didn't get up. Shocking habit to lie in bed after you'reawake. "

"At that rate I should often be up at two in the morning, " said Roger. 

"I doubt it--but what's wrong?"

Roger put down his brush, and flung himself on a chair. 

"I don't know--yes, I do. Can't you guess?"

"Cheese for supper, " suggested the tutor seriously. 

"Don't be a fool, Armstrong, and don't laugh at me; I'm not in the moodfor a joke. You know what it is well enough. "

The tutor's glass dropped from his eye, and he walked over to thewindow. 

"Quite so. I overtook her in the park a quarter of an hour ago, and sheis already in the house, wondering why you are so late down on yourbirthday. "

Roger sprang up and resumed his toilet. 

"Has she really come? Armstrong, I say, I wish I knew how to make hercare for me. "

"I'm not an expert in these matters, but it occurs to me that the sortof thing you want is not made. "

"You mean that if she doesn't care for me for what I am, it's no usetrying to get her to care for me by being what I am not. "

"Roger, you have a brilliant way occasionally of putting things exactlyas they should be put. "

"That's not much consolation, " pursued the boy. 

"Possibly, " said the tutor; "but, as I say, I am not an expert in thesedelicate affairs. Much as I would like to prescribe, I rather adviseyour taking a second opinion--your mother's, say. I was engaged toteach you classics and the sciences, but the art of love was notincluded among the subjects to be treated of. "

Mr Armstrong was late for breakfast that morning. For some reason ofhis own he wasted ten minutes at his piano before he obeyed the summonsof the gong, and the chords he played were mostly minor. But when hedid appear his glass was fixed as jauntily as ever, and his pursed lipslooked impervious to any impression from within or without. 

To his surprise, he found Miss Jill waiting outside the door. 

"I didn't mean to go in, " said she, "where that horrid man is, till youcame. I don't mind a bit now. Come along, dear Mr Armstrong. "

Dear Mr Armstrong came along, feeling decidedly compromised, but yet alittle grateful to his loyal adherent. 

As usual he dropped into his seat at the foot of the table after a bowto Miss Oliphant, and a friendly nod to Tom. 

Jill, to her consternation, found a seat carefully reserved for her nextto Mr Ratman. Her impulse on making the discovery was to run; but aglance at Mr Armstrong, who sat watching her in a friendly way, reassured her. To gain time she went round the table and kissed everyone (including the tutor), and especially the hero of the day, whom sheartfully tried to persuade, in honour of the occasion, to make room forher next to himself. But when that transparent little artifice failed, she bridled up and marched boldly to the inevitable. 

"Well, little puss, " said Mr Ratman, "haven't you got a kiss for me?"

"No, " she replied. "Father says I'm to be civil to you, so I'll saygood-morning; but I don't mean it a bit; and I still think you're ahorrid, bad man, though I don't say so. I'm not a bit afraid of you, either, because Mr Armstrong is here to punish you if you behavewickedly. "

Tom, as usual, improved matters with a loud laugh. 

"Good old Jilly!" cried he; "let him have it! Sit on his head! He'sgot no friends! Never you mind, Ratman--she doesn't--"

"Silence, sir?" thundered his father, "or leave the table instantly. "

Tom subsided promptly. 

"And you, Jill, " continued her father, "do not speak till you're spokento. "

Jill looked down at Mr Armstrong to see if he counselled furtherresistance; but as he was studiously busy with the ham, she capitulated, and said--

"Then I hope no one will speak to me, because I don't want to talk. "

Mr Ratman made an effort to turn the incident off with a laugh, andaddressed his further remarks to his host. But as that gentleman foundsome difficulty in being cordial, and as the rest of the party continuedto enjoy the meal without paying much attention to him, he was on thewhole relieved when the performance came to an end. 

On his way to the captain's room, afterwards, he encountered MrArmstrong. 

The two men glared at one another in a hostile manner for a moment, andthen the tutor observed casually that it was a cold day. 

"It will be hotter before it's much older, " growled the late owner of acertain black eye. 

"I can well believe that, " said the tutor drily. 

"Yes, sir, I shall have something to say to you. "

"Delighted, I'm sure, at any time that suits you. "

"You and I had better understand one another at once, " said Mr Ratman. 

"Why not? I flatter myself I understand you perfectly already. "

"Do you? Now, look here, my fine fellow. It's easy for you to giveyourself airs, but I know a good deal more about you than I dare say youwould care to own yourself. If you'll take my advice, the sooner youclear out of here the better. You may think you've a snug berth here, and flatter yourself you pass for a saint with your pupil and his mamma, but, let me tell you, I could open their eyes to a thing or two whichwould alter their opinion, as well as the opinion of certain young ladyfriends who--"

"Who do not require the assistance of Robert Ratman to keep them out ofbad company, " retorted the tutor, hotly for him. 

"No, but they may require the assistance of Robert Ratman to keep themfrom being ashamed of their own father, Mr Armstrong. "

The tutor glared through his glass. He understood this threat. 

"What of that?" said he. 

"Merely, " said Mr Ratman, "that it depends pretty much on you whetherthey are to continue to believe themselves the children of an officerand a gentleman, or of a--a fugitive from justice. That's the position, Mr Tutor. The responsibility rests with you. If you choose to go, Ishall not undeceive them; if you don't--well, it may suit me to opentheir eyes; there!"

The tutor inspected his man from top to toe in a dangerous way, whichmade the recipient of the stare decidedly uncomfortable. Then, pullinghimself together with an effort, Mr Armstrong coolly inquired, "Haveyou anything more to say?"

"That's about enough, isn't it? I give you a week. "

"Thanks, very much, " said Mr Armstrong, as he turned on his heel. 

Roger, after a long ramble in the park with his fair tormentor, returnedabout noon, flushed and excited. 

"Armstrong, old man, " said he, "what's to be done? She's kind to me--horribly kind; but whenever I get near the subject she laughs me off it, and holds me at arm's length. What's the use of my name and my moneyand my prospects, if they can't win her? If I jest, she's serious, andif I'm serious, she jests--we can't hit it. What's to be done, I say?"

"Patience, " said the tutor; "it took several years to capture Troy. "

"All very well for an old bachelor like you. I expected you'd saysomething like that. I know I could make her happy if she'd let me try. But she won't even let me tell her I love her. What should you doyourself?"

Mr Armstrong coloured up at the bare notion of such a dilemma. 

"I think I might come to you and ask your advice, " said he. 

Roger laughed rather sadly. 

"I know, " said he. "Of course it's a thing one has to play off one'sown bat, but I sometimes wish I were anything but the heir of Maxfield. She might care for me then. "

"You can disinherit yourself by becoming a criminal, or marrying underage--"

"Or dying--thank you, " said the boy. "You are something like aconsoler. I know it's a shame to bore you about it, but I've no oneelse to talk to. "

"I'd give my right hand to help you, old fellow, " said the tutor; "but, as you say, I'm absolutely no use in a case like this. "

"I know. Come upstairs and play something. "

"By the way, " said the tutor, as they reached the study, "I've somethingto give you. You may as well have it now. "

And he went to his desk and took out an envelope. 

"It will explain itself, " said he, handing it to the boy. 

He sat down at the piano, and wandered over the keys, while Roger, toofull of his own cares to give much heed to the missive in his hands, walked over to the window and looked out across the park. The afternoonsun was glancing across the woods, and gleaming far away on the sea. "If only she would share it with me, " thought he to himself, "how proudI should be of the dear old place. But what good is it all to me if shecondemns me to possess it all myself?"

Then with a sigh he turned his back on the scene, and let his eyes fallon the letter. 

He started as he recognised the dead hand of his father in theinscription--

"_To be given unopened into the hands of Roger Ingleton junior, on histwentieth birthday_. "

His breath came fast as he broke the seal and looked within. Theenvelope contained two enclosures, a document and a letter. The latter, which he examined first, was dated scarcely a fortnight before the oldman's death, written in the same trembling hand as the words on theenvelope. 

"My dear son, " it said, "this will reach you long after the hand thatwrites it is still and cold. My days are numbered, and for better orworse are rapidly flying to their account. But before I go, I havesomething to say to you. Read this, and the paper I enclose herewith. If, after reading them, you choose to destroy them, no one will blameyou; no one will know--you will do no one an injury. You are free toact as you choose. What follows is not a request from me, still less acommand. It is a confidence--no more. "

Roger put down the letter. His head was in a whirl. He only half heardthe notes of the tutor's sonata as they rose and fell on his ear. Presently, with beating heart, he read on--

"You had a brother once--a namesake--whom you never saw, and perhapsnever heard of. You never mourned his loss, for he was gone before youwere born. Twenty-two years ago he was a boy of 16--a fine, high-spirited Ingleton. Like a fool, I thought I could bring him up to be afine man. But I failed--I only spoiled him. He grew up wild, self-willed, obstinate--a sorrow to his mother, an enemy to his father. Theday came when we quarrelled. I accused him unjustly of fraud. Heretorted insolently. In my passion I struck him, and he struck back. Ifought my own boy and beat him; but my victory was the evil crisis of mylife, for he left home vowing he would die sooner than return. Hismother died of a broken heart. I had to live with mine; too proud torepent or admit my fault. Then came a rumour that the boy was dead. Inever believed it; yet wrote him off as dead. Now, as I near my end, Istill discredit the story; I am convinced he still lives. In thatconviction, I have made a new will, which is the paper enclosed. As youwill see, it provides that if he should return before you attain yourmajority, he becomes sole heir to the property; if not found before thattime, the will under which you inherit all remains valid. You are atliberty to keep or destroy this new will as you choose. Nor, if youkeep it, are you bound to do anything towards finding your lost brother. But should you desire to make inquiries, I am able to give you thisfeeble clue--that, after leaving home, he went to the bad in London incompany with a companion named Fastnet, but where they lived I know not. Also, that the rumour of his death came to me from India. I can say nomore, only that I am his and your loving father, --

"Roger Ingleton. "

Towards the end the writing became very weak and straggling, and what tothe boy was the most important passage was well-nigh illegible. When, after reading it a second time, he looked up, it was hard to believe hewas the same Roger Ingleton who, a few minutes since, had broken theseal of that mysterious letter. The tutor, lost in his music, playedon; the sun still flashed on the distant sea, the park still stretchedaway below him--but all seemed part of another world to the heir ofMaxfield. 

His brother--that wild-eyed, fascinating, defiant boy in the picture--lived still, and all this place was his. Till that moment Roger hadnever imagined what it would be to be anything but the heir of Maxfield. 

Every dream of his for the future had Maxfield painted into thebackground. He loved the place as his own, as his sphere in life, ashis destiny. Was that a dream after all? Were all his castles in theair to vanish, and leave him a mere dependant in a house not his own?

He took up the document and read it over. It was brief and abrupt. Referring to the former will, it enjoined that all its provisions shouldremain strictly in force as if no codicil or later will had beenexecuted until the 26th of October, 1886, on which day Roger Ingletonthe younger should attain his majority. But if on or before that daythe elder son, whom the testator still believed to be living, should befound and identified, the former will on that day was to become null andvoid, and the elder son was to become sole possessor of the entireproperty. If, on the contrary, he should not be found or have provedhis identity by that day, then the former will was to hold goodabsolutely, and the codicil became null and void. 

Such, shorn of its legal verbiage, was the document which Roger, by thesame hand that executed it, was invited, if he wished, to destroy. Perhaps for a moment, as his eyes glanced once more across the park, anda vision of Rosalind flitted across his mind, he was tempted to availhimself of his liberty. But if the idea endured a moment it hadvanished a moment after. 

He went up to the piano, where Mr Armstrong, still in the clouds, wasroaming at will over the chords, and laid his father's letter on thekeyboard. 

"Read that, please, Armstrong. "

The tutor wheeled round on his stool, and put up his glass. Somethingin the boy's voice arrested him. 

He glanced first at his pupil, then at the paper. 

"A private letter?" said he. 

"I want your help; please read it. "

The tutor's inscrutable face, as he perused the letter carefully frombeginning to end, afforded very little direction to the boy who sat andwatched him anxiously. Having read it once, Mr Armstrong turned backto the first page and read it again; and then with equal care perusedthe codicil. When all was done, he returned them slowly to the envelopeand handed it back. 

"Well?" said Roger, rather impatiently. 

"It is a strange birthday greeting, " said Mr Armstrong, "and comes, Ifear, from a mind unhinged. Your father had more than one delusion nearthe end. But on the night before he died he told me this elder son ofhis was dead. This was written before that. "

"Tell me exactly what he said. "

The tutor repeated as nearly as he could the conversation of thatmemorable night. 

"Is it not more probable that a fortnight earlier his mind might beclearer than at the very moment of his death?"

"It is possible, of course; but the letter does not seem to show it. Besides, the inscription at the back of the portrait (which you haveforgotten) is a distinct record of the boy's death. I wish you had notshown me the letter, because the only advice I have to give you is thatyou do with it what he invites you to do. "

"Look here, Armstrong!" said Roger, getting up and walking restlessly upand down the room; "you mean kindly, I know--you always do--but youdon't seem to realise that you are tempting me to be a cad and acoward!"

The tutor looked up, and his eyebrow twitched uncomfortably. Roger hadnever spoken like this before, and the heat of the words took even himaback. 

"You asked my advice, unfortunately, and I gave it, " said he, ratherdrily. 

"Do you think I should have an hour's peace if I didn't do everything inmy power to find my brother now?" retorted the boy. "You're not obligedto help me, I know. "

"I am--I am bound to help you; not because I am your tutor or yourguardian, but because I love you. "

"Then help me in this. My father, I feel sure, was right. Whether hewas or not, and whether I have to do it single-handed or not, I mean tofind my brother. "

"Certainly you may count on me, old fellow, " said the tutor; "but bequite sure first that you know what you are undertaking. If it is not awild-goose chase it is something uncommonly like it. You resolve towaste a whole year. You are not strong, your future is all in Maxfield;the happiness of your mother, your hopes of winning the object of youraffections, are involved in the step you take. Even if this brother ofyours be living (of which the chances seem to be a hundred to one he isnot), he is, as your father says, a man who has gone to the bad; not theboy of the picture, but a man twice your age, of the Ratman order, letus say, probably the worst possible companion for yourself, and a badfriend to the people who already count you as their master. Had he beenliving with any desire or intention of claiming his title, he wouldcertainly have come forward months ago--"

"I know all that, Armstrong, " said the boy; "I know perfectly well youare bringing up all these points as a friend, to prevent my taking arash step of which I shall afterwards be sorry. I don't care how bad heis, or what it costs, I mean to find him; and if you help me, I'mconfident I shall. Only, " said he regretfully, "I certainly wish it wasthe boy in the picture, and not a middle-aged person, who is to belooked for. "

Here Tom broke in upon the conference. 

"Hullo, Roger, here you are! What are you up to? You and Armstronglook as blue as if you'd swallowed live eels. I say, you're a nicechap. Rosalind has been waiting half an hour, she says, for that rideyou were to go with her, and if you don't look sharp she'll give Ratmanthe mount and jockey you, my boy. Poor old Ratty! didn't Jill drop onhim like a sack of coals at breakfast? Jolly rough on the governorhaving to stroke him down after it. I say, mind you're in in time toreceive the deputation. They're all going to turn up, and old Hodder'sto make a speech. I wouldn't miss it for a half sov! All I know is I'mjolly glad I'm not an heir. It's far jollier to be an ordinary chap;isn't it, Mr Armstrong?"

"Decidedly, " said the tutor demurely; "but we can't all be what welike. "

"Tell Rosalind I'll be down in a second; I'm awfully sorry to have kepther, " said Roger. 

"By the way, " said the tutor, when Tom had gone; "about this letter. The communication is evidently made to you by your father as a secret. I am sorry, on that account, you showed it to me, because I object tosecrets not meant for me. But if you take my advice you will not let itgo further. It would be clearly contrary to the wishes of your father. "

"I see that. Lock the will up in your desk again; I'll take care of theletter. Nobody but you and I shall know of their existence. And now Imust go to Rosalind. "

CHAPTER FOURTEEN. 

WHAT A HORSEWHIP DISCOVERED. 

Mr Ratman's business interview with his friend was short and stormy. 

When Captain Oliphant produced the hundred-pound note, and requested hiscreditor to accept a fresh bill for the balance, that injured gentlemanbroke out into very emphatic abuse. 

"Likely, is it not?" laughed he. "You, a common thief, bring me, who'vesaved you from a convict's cell, here to be insulted and made a fool ofby your miserable brats and servants, and then have the calmness to askme to lend you a hundred pounds? I admire your impudence, sir, andthat's all I admire about you. "

"My dear fellow, how can you blame me--"

"Blame you! You don't suppose I'm going to take the trouble to do that!Come, hand over the other hundred, sharp. I've nothing to say to youtill that's done. "

And Mr Ratman, digging his hands in his pockets, got up and walked tothe fireplace. 

Captain Oliphant's face fell. He knew his man by this time, and hadsense enough at least to know that this was no time for argument. Yethe could not help snarling--

"I can only do part. "

"The whole--in five minutes--or there'll be interest to add!" retortedMr Ratman. 

With a groan Captain Oliphant flung down the second bank-note on thetable. 

"Take it, you coward! and may it help you to perdition!"

"Thanks, very much, " said Ratman, carefully putting away the money. "I'm not going to ask you where the money came from. That would bepainful. Ah, Teddy, my boy, what a nice, respectable family man youare, to be sure!"

With which acknowledgment Mr Ratman, in capital spirits, returned tohis room. On the way he encountered Tom, who, being of a forgivingdisposition, owed him no grudge for the trouble that had occurred atbreakfast-time. 

"Hullo, Mr Ratty!" said the boy; "going out? Aren't you lookingforward to the party to-night? I am. Only I'm afraid they'll make amess of it among them. Auntie's ill and in bed, Rosalind and Roger arespooning about in the grounds, Armstrong's got the dismals, and thegovernor's not to be disturbed. I've got to look after everything. Thespread will be good enough--only I think they ought to have roasted anox whole in the hall; don't you? That's the proper way to do things, instead of kickshaws and things with French names that one can swallowat a gulp. I say, there's to be a dance first. I'll introduce you tosome of the old girls if you like. It won't be much fun for me, forJill has made me promise to dance every dance with her, for fear youshould want one. But I know a chap or two that will take her off myhands. I say, would you like to see my den?" added he, as they passedthe door in question. 

Mr Ratman being of an inquiring turn of mind, accepted the invitation, and gave a cursory glance at the chaos which formed the leading featureof the apartment. 

"It's not such a swagger crib as Roger's, " said Tom; "but it's snugenough. That's Roger's opposite. Like to look?"

Once more Mr Ratman allowed himself to be escorted on a tour ofdiscovery. 

"Who is that a portrait of?" asked he, looking at the lost Roger'spicture. 

"Oh, that's what's his name, the fellow who would have been heir if hehadn't died. He looks rather a tough customer, doesn't he? That's thepicture Rosalind painted for Roger's birthday--a view of the park fromher window, with the sea beyond. Not so bad, is it? Rosalind thinksshe's no end of an artist, but I--"

"When did he die?" inquired Mr Ratman, still examining the picture. 

"Oh, ever so long ago--before the old Squire married Auntie. I say, come and have a punt about with my new football, will you?"

"Go and get it. I'll be down presently. I like pictures, and shalljust take a look at these first!"

Tom bustled off, wondering what Mr Ratman could see in the pictures toallure him from the joys of football. 

To tell the truth, Mr Ratman was not a great artist. But the portraitof the lost Roger appeared to interest him, as did also the sight of anopen letter, hastily laid down by the owner on the writing-table. 

Something in the handwriting of the letter particularly aroused thecuriosity of the trespasser, who, being, as has been said, of aninquiring disposition, ventured to look at it more closely. 

"_To be given unopened into the hands of Roger Ingleton, junior, on histwentieth birthday_. "

The coast was conveniently clear for Mr Ratman, as, fired with a zealfor information, he slipped the letter from the envelope and, with halfan eye on the door, hastily read it. As he did so, he flushed a little, and having read the letter once, read it again. Then he quicklyreplaced it in its cover, and laying it where he had discovered it, beata rapid retreat. 

He played football badly that afternoon, so that his young companion'sopinion of him lowered considerably. Nor was either sorry when theceremony was over, and the bell warned them to return to their quartersand prepare for the evening's festivities. 

Mr Ratman dressed with special care, spending some time before themirror in an endeavour to set off his person to the best advantage. Asthe reader has already been told, Mr Ratman retained some of the tracesof a handsome youth. The fires of honour and sobriety wereextinguished, but his well-shaped head and clear-cut features stillweathered the storm, and suggested that if their owner was not good-looking now, he might once have been. 

Perhaps it was a lingering impression of the lost Roger's portrait whichmade this vain gentleman adjust his curly locks and pose his head beforethe glass in a style not unlike his model. Whether that was so or not, the result appeared to satisfy him, and in due time, and not till afterseveral of the guests had already arrived, he descended in state to thedrawing-room. 

It was the first festive gathering at Maxfield since the death of thelate Squire, and a good deal of curiosity was manifest on the part ofsome of the guests both as to the heir and his new guardian. 

Roger, nerved up to the occasion by his own spirit and the encouragementof his tutor, bore his inspection well, and won golden opinions from hisfuture comrades and neighbours. 

Captain Oliphant also acquitted himself well; and anything lacking inhim was amply forgiven for the sake of his charming daughters, the elderof whom fairly took the "county" by storm. 

Quite unconscious of the broken hearts which strewed her way, Rosalind, with the duties of hostess unexpectedly cast upon her by Mrs Ingleton'sillness, exerted herself for the general happiness, and enjoyed herselfin the task. 

Despite Tom's forebodings, the evening went off brilliantly. The musicwas excellent, the amateur theatricals highly appreciated, and the danceall that could be desired. The loyal youth found no difficulty inpalming his young sister off on half a dozen partners delighted to havethe opportunity, and his head was fairly turned by the sudden popularityin which he found himself with visitors anxious for an introduction tothe fair Rosalind. 

"Oh, all serene, " said he confidentially to one of those glowing youths. "She's booked six or seven deep, but I'll work it for you if I can. You hang about here, and I'll fetch her up. "

But the luckless ones hung about in vain. For Tom's progress wasintercepted by other candidates for the same favour, amidst whom theyoung diplomatist played fast and loose in a reprehensible manner. 

"Promised _you_, did I?" demanded he of one. "Well, you'll have tosquare it up with that sandy-haired chap at the door. He says Ipromised _him_; but he's all wrong, for the one I _did_ promise is thatlittle dapper chap there in the window. He's been waiting on and offsince eight o'clock. Never you mind; you hang about here, and I'll workit if I-- Hullo! here's another one! I didn't promise you, did I? Allright, old chappie. You lean up there against the wall, and I'llengineer it for you somehow. She's owing me a dance about eight downthe list. You can have a quarter of it, if you like, and the other twochaps can go halves in the rest. "

With which the unprincipled youth absconded into the supper-room. 

"And who is that talking to your charming cousin?" asked a dowager whohad succeeded in capturing Roger for five minutes in a corner. 

"Oh, that's my tutor, Armstrong--the best fellow in the world. "

"Evidently a great admirer of Miss Oliphant. No doubt the attraction ismutual?"

Roger laughed, and speculated on Armstrong's horror were he to hear ofsuch a suggestion. 

"And that gentleman talking to Captain Oliphant? What relation is he?"

"He? None at all. He's a Mr Ratman, an Indian friend of myguardian's. "

"Dear me! I quite thought he was an Ingleton by his face--but I'm gladhe is not; I dislike his appearance. Besides, he has already had morethan is good for him. "

"He's no great favourite, " said Roger shortly. 

Presently Captain Oliphant and his companion stepped up to whereRosalind and her partner stood. 

"Mr Armstrong, " said the former, "will you kindly see that the bandgets supper after the next dance?"

The words were spoken politely, and Mr Armstrong, although he knew thatthe speaker's solicitude on behalf of the band was by no means as greatas his desire to see the tutor's back, felt he could hardly refuse. 

"Rosalind, " said the Captain, looking significantly at his daughter, "Mr Ratman desires the pleasure of a dance, and will take you into thenext room. "

Rosalind tossed her head and flushed. 

"Thank you; I am tired, " said she. "I prefer not to dance at present. "

"You are keeping Mr Ratman waiting, my dear. "

The colour died out of the girl's face as, with a little shiver, shelaid the tips of her fingers on her partner's arm. 

"That's right, " said that genial individual. "Do as you are told. Youdon't fancy it; but pa's word is law, isn't it?"

She said nothing, but the colour shot back ominously into her cheeks. 

"And so you've run off and left us, " pursued her partner, who ratherenjoyed the situation, and was vain enough to appreciate the distinctionof dancing with the belle of the evening. "So sorry. I quite envy thelittle vicar boys and girls--upon my honour I do. Very unkind of you togo just as I came. Never mind. Not far away, is it? We shall see lotsof one another. "

At this moment, just as the band was striking up for a quadrille, Jillcame up. 

"Have you seen dear Mr Arm-- O Rosalind! how _can_ you dance with thatman?"

Mr Ratman laughed. 

"Very well, missy. I'll pay you out. You shall dance with me, see ifyou don't, before the evening is out. "

Before which awful threat Jill fled headlong to seek the tutor. 

"Fact is, " pursued Mr Ratman, reverting to his previous topic, "eversince I saw you, Miss Rosalind, I said to myself--Robert Ratman, youhave found the right article at last. You don't suppose I'd come allthe way here from India, do you, if there weren't attractions?"

She kept a rigid silence, and went through the steps of the quadrillewithout so much as a look at the talker, Ratman was sober enough to beannoyed at this chilly disdain. 

"Don't you know it's rude not to speak when you're spoken to, MissRosalind?" said he. "If you choose to be friends with me we shall geton very well, but you mustn't be rude. "

She turned her head away. 

"You aren't deaf, are you?" said he, becoming still more nettled. "Isuppose if it was the heir of Maxfield that was talking to you you'dhear, wouldn't you? You'd be all smiles and nods to the owner of tenthousand a year, eh? Do you suppose we can't see through your littlegame, you artful little schemer? Now, will you speak or not?"

Her cheeks gave the only indication that she had heard this lastpolished speech as she gathered up her dress and swept out of thequadrille. 

"Wait, " said he, losing his temper, "the dance is not over. "

She stepped quickly to a chair, and sat there at bay. 

"Come back, " said he, following her, "or I will make you. I won't beinsulted like this before the whole room. Come back; do you hear?"

And he snatched her hand. 

Rosalind looked up, and as she did so she caught a distant vision of aneye-glass dropping from a gentleman's eye to the length of its cord. Amoment after, Mr Ratman felt a hand close like a vice on his collar andhimself almost lifted from the room. It was all done so quickly thatthe quadrille party were only just becoming aware that a couple haddropped out; and the non-dancers were beginning to wonder if MissOliphant had been taken poorly, when Robert Ratman was writhing in theclutches of his chastiser in the hall. 

Mr Armstrong marched straight with his prey to the kitchen. 

"Raffles, " said he to the footman, "get me a horsewhip. "

Raffles took in the situation at once, and in half a minute was acrossat the stable. 

As he returned with the whip he met Mr Armstrong in the yard, holdinghis victim much as a cat would hold a rat, utterly indifferent to hisoaths, his kicks, or his threats. 

"Thanks, " said the tutor, as he took the whip; "go in and shut the door. Now, sir, for you!"

"Touch me if you dare!" growled Ratman; "it will be the worse for youand every one. Do you know who I am! I'm--I'm, "--here he pulledhimself up and glared his enemy in the face--"_I'm Roger Ingleton_!"

It spoke worlds for the tutor's self-possession that in the startproduced by this announcement he did not let his victim escape. Itspoke still more for his resolution that, having heard it, he continuedhis horsewhipping to the bitter end before he replied--

"Whoever you are, sir, that will teach you how to behave to a lady. "

"You fool!" hissed Ratman, with an oath, getting up from the ground;"you'll be sorry for this. I'll be even with you. I'll ruin you. I'llturn your precious ward out of the place. I'll teach that girl--"

An ominous crack of the tutor's whip cut short the end of the sentence, and Mr Ratman left the remainder of his threats to the imagination ofhis audience. 

When, ten minutes later, the tutor, with eye-glass erect, strolled backinto the drawing-room, no one would have supposed that he had beenhorsewhipping an enemy or making a discovery on which the fate of awhole household depended. His thin, compressed lips wore their usualenigmatic lines; his brow was as unruffled as his shirt front. 

"Dear Mr Armstrong, where have you been?" cried Jill, pouncing on himat the door; "I've been hunting for you everywhere. You promised me, you know. " And the little lady towed off her captive in triumph. 

The remainder of the evening passed uneventfully until at eleven o'clockthe festivities in the drawing-room gave place to the more seriousbusiness of the "county" supper, at which, in a specially-erected tent, about one hundred guests sat down. 

Tom had taken care to procure an early and advantageous seat for theoccasion, and, with one of the vicar's daughters under his patronage andcontrol, prepared to enjoy himself at last. He had had a bad time of itso far, for he was in the black-books of almost every youth in the room, and had been posted as a defaulter in whatever corner he had tried tohide from his creditors. 

"It's awful having a pretty sister, " said he confidentially to hiscompanion; "gets a fellow into no end of a mess. I wish I was yourbrother instead. "

"Thank you, " said the young lady, laughing. 

"Oh, I didn't mean that, " said Tom. "You're good enough looking, Ithink. But I don't see why Rosalind can't pick her own partners, instead of me having to manage it for her. Look out! if that chapopposite sees me he'll kick--put the ferns between. There she is nextto Roger. Like her cheek, bagging the best place. Do you see that kidthere grinning at the fellow with the eye-glass? That's my youngsister--ought to be in bed instead of fooling about here. Ah, I knewit! she's planted herself opposite the grapes. If we don't look out weshan't get one. That's my governor coming in; looks rather chippy, don't he? I say, lean forward, or he'll see me. He's caught me in thesupper-room five or six times already this evening. By the way, where'sold Ratty? Do you know Ratty, Miss Isabel? No end of a scorch. Justthe chap for you. I'll introduce you. Hullo! where is he?" added he, looking up and down the table cautiously. "Surely he's not going toshirk the feed? Never mind, Miss Isabel; I'll work it round for you ifI can. "

Miss Isabel expressed her gratitude with a smile, and asked Tom how heliked living at Maxfield. 

"Oh, all right, now I've got a football and can go shooting in thewoods. I have to pay up for it though with lessons, and--(thanks; allright; just a little more. Won't you have some yourself while it'shere?)--Armstrong makes us stick at it. I say, by the way, do youremember that fellow who died? (Don't take any of that; it's no good. Wire in to a wing of the partridge instead. ) Eh, do you?"

"Whom? What are you talking about?" asked she, bewildered. 

"Ah, it doesn't matter. He died twenty-one years ago, before Roger wasborn. I thought you might have known him. "

"Really, Tom, you are not complimentary. You can't expect me toremember before I was born. "

"What! aren't you twenty-one?" asked Tom, staring round at her. "Go on;you're joking! No? Why, you look twice the age! This chap, you know, would have been the heir if he'd lived. There's a picture of himupstairs. "

"And he died, did he?"

"Rather; but old Hodder--know old Hodder?"

"Hush!" said his companion; "the speeches are beginning. "

"What a hung nuisance!" said Tom. 

The oratorical interruption was a brief one. The Duke of Somewhere, asthe big man of the county, rose to propose the health of the heir ofMaxfield. They were glad to make their young neighbour's acquaintance, and looked forward that day year to welcoming him to his own. Theyhoped he'd be a credit to his name, and keep up the traditions ofMaxfield. He understood Mr Ingleton was pretty strictly tied up in thematter of guardians--(laughter)--but from what he could see, he might beworse off in that respect; and the county would owe their thanks tothose gentlemen if they turned out among them the right sort of man tobe Squire of Maxfield. He wished his young friend joy and long life andmany happy returns of the day. 

Roger, rather pale and nervous, replied very briefly. 

He thanked them for their good wishes, and said he hoped he might takethese as given not to the heir of Maxfield but to plain Roger Ingleton. He was still an infant--("Hear, hear!" from Tom)--and was in no hurry toget out of the charge of his guardians. Whatever his other expectationsmight be, he felt that his best heritage was the name he bore; and hehoped, as his noble neighbour had said, he should turn out worthy ofthat. 

As he sat down, flushed with his effort, and wondering what two personsthere would think of his feeble performance, his eye fell on the form ofDr Brandram, who at that moment hurriedly entered the room. 

He saw him whisper something to Armstrong, who changed colour and rosefrom his seat. An intuition, quicker than a flash of lightning, revealed to the boy that something was wrong--something in which he wasconcerned. In a moment he stood with his two friends in the hall. 

"Roger, my brave fellow, your mother has been taken seriously worsewithin the last hour. Come and see her. "

The boy staggered away dazed. He was conscious of the hum of voices, with Tom's laugh above all, in the room behind; of the long curve ofcarriage lights waiting in the garden without; of the trophy of flowersand pampas on either side of the staircase. Then, as the doctor steppedforward and softly opened a door, he followed like one in a dream. 

For an hour the dull roll of carriages came and went on the drive, andthe cheery babel of departing voices broke the still morning air. 

But two guests left Maxfield that night unexpectedly. 

One was the soul of a good lady; the other was the horsewhipped body ofa bad man. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 

STRONG HEARTS AND WEAK TEMPERS. 

In the sad confusion which followed upon Mrs Ingleton's sudden death, no one appeared to remark the abrupt departure of Mr Robert Ratman. Roger certainly never bestowed a thought on the occurrence, and if anyof the other members of the household thought twice about it, they all--even Jill--kept their ideas on the subject to themselves. 

To Roger the week that followed his twentieth birthday was the mostdismal of his life. When a similar blow had fallen months ago he hadbeen too bewildered and benumbed to realise fully his own loss. Now herealised everything only too vividly. 

His own trouble; the loss of the last near relative he had in the world;his own sickly health, chaining him down when he would fain seek comfortin action; the uncertainty of his position as heir of Maxfield; thehopeless task before him of finding his lost brother; Rosalind'sindifference to his affection--all seemed now to pile up in one greatmountain to oppress him, and he half envied the gentle dead her quietresting-place. 

It was in the second week after the funeral, when Maxfield once morebegan to assume its normal aspect, and Captain Oliphant was allowinghimself to hope that, notwithstanding the removal of his latest "deardeparted, " things were likely to shape themselves a trifle morecomfortably for his own designs in her absence--it was in the middle ofNovember that a letter was handed to Roger as he dressed one morning inhis room. 

It bore the London post-mark, and looked mysterious enough to induceRoger to lay down his brushes and open it there and then. This is whatit said:--

 "Dear Roger, --You'll have been expecting to hear from me, as no doubt your moral friend, Mr Armstrong, has told you who I am. I don't fancy you are specially pleased with the discovery, and it may suit you to turn up your nose at your affectionate brother. You may turn up what you like, but it doesn't alter the fact. I am your brother. When I heard of my father's death I was in India, and made up my mind to come home on the chance the old boy had forgiven me and left me some of the needful in his will. Your guardian, Oliphant, had little idea that the Indian chum who made such a long journey to pay him a visit at Maxfield was really the man to whom the place ought to have belonged if every one had his rights. Of course I soon found out my mistake. The old man kept up his grudge to the end, and cut me out of his will without even a shilling. So you've nothing to be afraid of. I dare say when you come into the property you will do something for your big brother. Meanwhile I don't expect much out of the pair of hypocrites my father chose to leave as your guardians. But as I am hard up, and you can probably do what you like with your pocket-money, let me have a £10 note once and again, say fortnightly, addressed to Robert Ratman, to be called for at the General Post Office. If I don't get this, I shall conclude the Ingletons are true to their reputation of being a good deal fonder of their money than their flesh and blood. 

 "I don't know whether I shall turn up again or not. It will depend pretty much on what I hear. No doubt you've set me down as a cad and a blackleg. Perhaps I am. I've not had the advantages you have. But, cad or no cad, I've a right to sign myself your brother, --

 "Roger Ingleton, _alias_ Robert Ratman. "

Roger read this remarkable epistle once or twice, in a state of mindbordering on stupefaction. Robert Ratman, cad, sharper, blasphemer, insolent profligate, his brother! The notion was ludicrous. And yet, when he tried to laugh, the laugh died on his lips. He walked over tothe portrait on the wall and looked at the wild, mocking boy's facethere. For a moment, as he met its gaze, it seemed to grow older andcoarser--the light died out of the eyes, the mouth lost its strength, the lines of shame and vice came out on the brow. Then the old facelooked out again--the face of the lost Roger Ingleton. 

"Ratman my brother!" he groaned to himself. 

Then of a sudden he seemed to see it all. It was a fraud, animposition, an impudent plot to extort money. But no! As he read theletter again that hope vanished. This was not the letter of animpostor. Had it been, there would have been more about his rights, more brotherly affection, a greater anxiety to appear in good colours. As it was, the writer wrote in the reckless vein of a man who knows heis detested and expects little; who owes a grudge to fortune for his badluck, and being hard up for money, appeals not to his rights, but to thegood nature of his more lucky younger brother. 

What a sad letter it seemed, read in that light. And how every worddrove the unhappy heir of Maxfield deeper and deeper into the slough ofperplexity. 

Three weeks ago, when his dead father's letter had come into his hands, he had not hesitated for a moment as to his duty or his desire in thematter. He had cheerfully accepted the task of finding that lost, aggrieved, perhaps hardly-used brother, to whom his heart went out as hegazed on the likeness of what he once had been. 

But now! To abdicate in favour of this blackguard. To look for him, totell him that Maxfield was his, to have to depend on his generosity fora livelihood, to see the good name of Ingleton represented in the countyby a drunken profligate. What a task was that. The writer evidentlydid not know of the second will, or suspect that after all Maxfield washis own. No one knew of that document but Roger and Armstrong. For amoment there returned to the boy's mind the words of his father'sletter--

"If after reading the papers you choose to destroy them, no one willblame you; no one will know--you will do no one an injury. You are freeto act as you choose. "

And Armstrong, the only other being who had seen the papers, had urgedhim to avail himself of the permission thus accorded. Why not take theadvice and save Maxfield and the family name, and himself--ay, andRosalind--from the discredit that threatened. He could yet be generous, beyond his hopes, to the prodigal. He would pay to get him abroad, to--to--

A flush of shame mounted to the boy's cheeks as he suddenly discoveredhimself listening to these unworthy suggestions. 

"Heaven help me, " he said, "to be a man. " It was a brief inward fight, though a sore one. 

Roger Ingleton, weak in body, often dull of wit and infirm of temper, had yet certain old-fashioned ideas of his own as to how it behoves agentleman to act. 

He cherished, too, certain still older-fashioned ideas as to how when aChristian gentleman wants help and courage he may obtain it. And he wasendowed with that glorious obstinacy which, when it once satisfiesitself on a question of right and wrong, declines to listen to argument. 

Therefore when, later than usual, he joined the family party atbreakfast, it was with a grim sense of a misery ahead to be faced, butby no manner of means to be avoided. 

For fear the reader should be disposed to rank Roger at once among thesaints, let it be added that he took his place in as genuine a badtemper as a strong mind and a weak body between them are capable ofgenerating. 

"Roger, my dear boy, " said the captain mournfully, as became the weedshe wore, "you are looking poorly. You need a change. We both need oneafter the trouble we have been through. I think a run up to Londonwould brace us up. Would you like it?"

"I don't know, " said Roger shortly. "I don't think so. "

"It is trying to you, I am sure, to remain here, in your delicatehealth, among so many sad associations--"

"I'm quite well, thank you, " said the boy. "Tom, how does the footballget on?"

"Oh, " said Tom, rather taken aback by the introduction of so congenial atheme from so unexpected a quarter, "I've not played very much lately. Jill and I had a little punt about yesterday; but we did it quiteslowly, you know, and I had my crape on my arm. "

Jill flushed up guiltily. The housekeeper, who since Mrs Ingleton'sdeath had assumed the moral direction of the young lady, hadexpostulated with her in no mild terms on the iniquity of young ladiesplaying football, even of a funereal order, and she felt it verytreacherous on the part of the faithless Tom to divulge her ill-doingsnow. 

She felt reassured, however, when Mr Armstrong smiled grimly. 

"Nobody could see, " said she; "and Tom _did_ want a game so dreadfully. "

"We played Association, " said Tom. "Jill got two goals and I got fifty-six. "

"No, I got three, " said Jill. 

"Oh, that first wasn't a goal, " said Tom. "You see, she got past mewith a neat bit of dribbling; but she ran, and the rule was only towalk, you know, because of being in mourning. "

"I really didn't run, I only walked very fast, " said Jill. 

"I should think you might allow her the goal, " said Mr Armstrong. 

Mr Armstrong was always coming to Jill's rescue; and if any of herheart had been left to win, he would have won it now. Tom gave in, andsaid he supposed he would have to let her count it; and was vastlyconsoled for his self-denial by Roger's proposal to join him in a gamethat very day. 

Before that important function came off, however, Roger and his tutorhad a somewhat uncomfortable talk in the library. 

"You are feeling out of sorts, old fellow, " said the latter when theywere left alone. 

"I've had a letter, " said Roger. 

"Another?"

"Read it, please. "

"If you wish it, I will. Last time, however, it wasn't a successconsulting me. "

"I want you to read this. "

The tutor took the letter and turned to the signature. 

His brow knitted as he did so, and the lines grew deeper and morescornful as he turned to the beginning and read through. 

"If I were you, " said he, returning it, "I would frame this letter as agood specimen of a barefaced fraud. "

It irritated Roger considerably, in his present over-wrought frame ofmind--and particularly after the memorable inward struggle of thatmorning--to have what seemed so serious a matter to him regarded by anyone else as a jest. For once in a way the tutor failed to understandhis ward. 

"It does not seem to be a fraud at all, " said Roger. "Why didn't youtell me of it before?"

"I did not regard the statement seriously. Nor do I now. There is liewritten in every line of the letter. A clumsy attempt to extort money, which ought not to be allowed to succeed. He gives not a single proofof his identity. I horsewhipped him on the night of your birthday forinsulting a lady, and--"

"What lady?" asked Roger. 

"Miss Oliphant, " said the tutor, flushing a little. "He then, as adesperate expedient for getting off the punishment he deserved, blurtedout this preposterous story. And having once published it, it appearshe means to make capital out of it. Roger, old fellow, you are nofool. "

"I am fool enough to believe there is something in the story, " saidRoger; "at any rate I must follow it up. If this Ratman is mybrother--"

The tutor, who himself was showing signs of irritation, laughedabruptly. 

"It may be a joke to you, but it is none to me, " said Roger angrily. "It may not concern you--"

"It concerns me very much, " said the tutor. "I am your guardian, and itis my duty to protect you from schemers. "

The two stood looking at one another, and in that moment each relented alittle of his anger. 

"I know, old fellow, " said Roger, "you think you are doing me akindness, but--"

"Pardon me--kindness is not the word. I appeal to your common-sense--"

Unlucky speech! Roger, who was painfully aware that he was not clever, was naturally touchy at any reference to his common-sense. 

"It doesn't seem much use discussing, " said he. "I made a mistake inshowing you the letter. "

"I heartily regret you did. "

"I hoped you would have helped me in my difficulty. "

"I will do anything for you except believe, without proof, and in spiteof every probability, that Ratman is your brother. "

"He is just the age my brother would have been now. "

"So is George the coachman, so am I, so are half a dozen men in thevillage. "

"He certainly has some resemblance to the portrait. "

"I could find you a score more like it in London. "

"The long and short of it is, Armstrong, I cannot look to you to back meup in this. "

"To make Robert Ratman into Roger Ingleton?--I fear not. To back you upin all else, and be at your call whether you think well or ill of me--certainly. "

They parted angrily, though without a quarrel. Mr Armstrong had rarelyfelt himself so put out, and crashed away ruthlessly at his piano allthe morning. 

Roger, perhaps conscious that logic was not on his side, whateverinstinct and feeling might be, retired disappointed and miserable to thepark, and never remembered his appointment with the eager Tom. 

At lunch-time he said to Captain Oliphant--

"When did you think of going to town?"

"At the end of the week, my boy. What do you say to coming?"

"Yes--I'll come. "

The Captain darted a triumphant glance in the direction of the tutor. But the tutor was investigating the contents of a game pie in theendeavour to discover a piece of egg for Miss Jill. 

After a pause that young lady took up her discourse. 

"If father and Roger go to town, Tom, we shall have dear Mr Armstrongall to ourselves. "

"Hooroo!" said Tom; "that is, if it's holidays. "

"I am thinking of going to Oxford next week, " said the tutor, elaborately folding up his napkin, addressing his co-trustee. "Have youany message I can give to any of your acquaintances there?"

"I think it would be a pity for you to leave Maxfield just now. One ofus should remain. "

"Yes, do stay. We'll have such larks, " said Tom. "We'll get Rosalindto come and stay, and then we shall be able to play regular matches, ladies against gentlemen, you know. "

"No. Mr Armstrong and I will stand Rosalind and you, " suggested Jill. 

Even these allurements failed. 

"I shall make my visit as short as possible. I have, as you know, a fewcreditors in Oxford on whom I am anxious to call. Let me give you alittle cheese, Roger. "

That evening when, as usual, the tutor looked in to say good night tohis ward, Roger said rather gloomily--

"I suppose you object to my going to London?"

"On the contrary, I rather envy you. "

"Of course you understand I am going up to make inquiries?"

"Naturally. With Captain Oliphant's assistance?"

"No. I'm not inclined to tell him anything at present. He has no ideathat Ratman is anything but an Indian acquaintance. "

"My address will be `"Green Dragon, " Oxford, '" said the tutor. 

"By the way, " said Roger--both men were talking in the forced toneswhich belong to an unacknowledged estrangement--"Whether this matter isright or not, I propose to write to Ratman and enclose him £10. "

"Naturally, " said the tutor. 

"I am tied down, as you know, in the matter of my pocket-money, andcan't well spare it out of my present allowance. I want the trustees togive me an extra allowance. "

"In other words, you want your trustees to keep Mr Robert Ratman at therate of £250 a year. I shall agree to that the day that he satisfies mehe is Roger Ingleton. "

"I expected you would refuse. I must ask Captain Oliphant. "

"I'm afraid he will require my sanction to any such arrangement. "

"What! Do you mean to say that I am at your mercy in a matter likethis?"

"I fear that is unhappily the case. I can resolve the matter byresigning my tutorship. "

Had it come to that? Roger glanced up with a scared look which for themoment clouded out the vexation in his face. 

"Excuse me, Armstrong. All this worry is bad for my temper. I'm afraidI lost it. "

"I can sympathise, " said the tutor, "for I have lost mine. Good night. "

CHAPTER SIXTEEN. 

ROGER SEES A LITTLE TOO MUCH LIFE. 

Captain Oliphant's motive for going to London was primarily to escapefor a while from the unearthly dullness of Maxfield. As long as theprospect of a matrimonial alliance with Mrs Ingleton had been in view, it had seemed to him good policy to submit to the infliction and remainat his post. That vision was now unhappily past, and the good man felthe deserved a change of scene and amusement. A further motive was toevade a possible return of his dear friend Mr Ratman, whose abruptdeparture from Maxfield had both perplexed and relieved him. The secondof that gentleman's uncomfortable bills was falling due in a few days, and as on the present occasion no lucky windfall had dropped in from anAmerican mayor, it seemed altogether a fitting occasion for dropping fora season below the horizon. 

When, however, Roger unexpectedly consented to accompany his guardian, the visit assumed an altogether different aspect. The captain had longdesired to have his dear ward to himself, and the opportunity nowpresented was certainly one not to be neglected. 

"My dear boy, " said he, as the two took their places in the Londontrain, "I hope you are well protected against the weather. Change seatswith me. You are so liable to cold, you know, that it is really hardlysafe for you to face the engine. We must take great care of you now--greater than ever, " and he sighed pathetically. 

Roger was getting accustomed to, and a little tired of, thesedemonstrative outbursts, and quietly took the seat in order to sparediscussion. He was already repenting of his journey. No one seemed tocommend it. Armstrong made no reference to it. 

Dr Brandram stoutly disapproved of it. Rosalind tossed her head whenshe heard of it, and hoped he might enjoy himself. Tom failed to seewhy, when there was football in the air at Maxfield, any one could bebothered to travel up to London for pleasure, unless indeed he intendedto take a season ticket for Christy's Minstrels. Altogether Roger didnot feel elated at the prospect of this visit. For all that, hepersuaded himself that duty called him thither, even if it was badtemper which drove him from Maxfield. 

"What has become of Ratman?" he inquired of his guardian casually duringthe journey. 

Captain Oliphant looked up from his paper sharply Mr Ratman'swhereabouts had been occupying his thoughts that very moment. 

"I really do not know, my boy, " said he. "He left very suddenly, and inthe sad trouble through which we have passed I have hardly had time tothink about him. "

There was a pause. Then Roger said--

"Is he an old friend of yours, cousin Edward?"

Cousin Edward was a little perplexed by this curiosity. 

"I have known him a year or so. The friendship, however, is chiefly onhis side. "

"I thought he came all the way from India on purpose to visit you?"

The captain laughed uncomfortably at this very correct representation ofthe facts. 

"That is the version he likes to give. The fact is that businessbrought him home, and as he knew I was at Maxfield, he wrote andproposed the visit. He is no great favourite of yours, I suspect, Roger?"

"No, " said Roger shortly, and relapsed again into silence. But beforethe journey's end he once more returned to the charge. 

"Was he in the army in India?"

"Once, I believe. But I have never heard much of his antecedents. Latterly I believe he called himself a financial agent, a very vagueprofession. He was in our station before our regiment went there. "

"I suppose he had lived in India all his life?"

"He had certainly been in England when a young man, " said the captain;"and from some of his reminiscences, appears not to have led a veryprofitable life there. But how comes it you are so interested in him?"

"I have only been wondering what he was, that's all, " said Roger, feeling he had been on the topic long enough. 

Roger had already written a letter to Ratman, addressed to thatgentleman at the General Post Office, London. 

"Your letter, " it said, "has perplexed me greatly. If you are mybrother, as you say you are, why do you not give some proof? Thatshould be easy. There must be some people who can identify you, or somemeans of satisfying us all about your claim to be the elder son. Ishould not resist you, if it were so. Only my guardians would requireclear proof before recognising you. As to whether I think well or illof you, that has nothing to do with the matter if you are really andtruly my elder brother. I enclose ten pounds in this, not to show youthat I am myself fully satisfied, but to let you see that the barechance of your being an Ingleton makes me feel anxious you should notthink we, as a family, do not stand by one another. I do not expect tobe able to repeat it, as my allowance is limited, and my guardians arenot likely to consent to hand over any money for you till you can proveyour claim. Write and give me more particulars, and I promise you Ishall not shirk my duty to you or the name I bear. "

At any other time Roger would have shown this epistle, the writing ofwhich cost him many anxious hours, to Armstrong. Now, however, thathelp was denied him. The tutor, he knew, would have screwed his eye-glass into his eye and ruthlessly pulled the document to pieces. No. He must play this game off his own bat, and keep his own counsel. 

Captain Oliphant, who had a good notion of doing things comfortably withother people's money, had selected a fashionable hotel at the West End. 

"We must see you have every comfort, dear boy, " said he; "in your stateof health we cannot afford to rough it. I have ordered a privatesitting-room and fires in the bedroom. When you feel strong enough wewill do a little sight-seeing; but meanwhile your first considerationmust be to recover lost tone and spirits by means of rest and care. "

These constant reminders of his poor health were very unwelcome to theunlucky Roger, who protested that he was in perfect health; and, toprove it, went out next day, in a cold November fog, with no overcoat. The consequence was he caught a severe cold, and had the mortificationof listening to a severe lecture from his solicitous guardian on theiniquity of trifling with his precious health. 

Roger, too proud to admit that he could not take care of himself, declined to treat himself as an invalid, and insisted on claiming hisguardian's promise to show him a little life in the great city. 

It was surprising how many acquaintances Rosalind's father had inLondon. Some were pleasant enough--military men on leave, and here andthere a civilian's family who remembered the captain and his charmingfamily in the Hills. 

Roger accepted their hospitality and listened to their Indian small-talkwith great good-humour, and when now and then some sympathetic soul, guessing, as a good many did, one of the lad's secrets, talkedadmiringly of Rosalind, he felt himself rewarded for a good deal oflong-suffering. Had he heard some of the jokes passed behind his back, his satisfaction might have been considerably tempered. 

"I always said, " observed one shrewd dowager, "that Oliphant would makea catch with that daughter of his. He has done it, evidently. This boywill be worth five or ten thousand a year, I hear. "

"Poor fellow! He looks as if it will be a battle with him to reach it. What a cough!"

"I can't understand Oliphant not taking better care of him. He dragshim about all over town, as if the boy were cast iron. I met them outtwice this week. "

"Certainly one cannot afford to play fast and loose with the goose thatlays the golden eggs. "

The "goose" in question made other acquaintances than these. In hisbachelor days Captain Oliphant had "knocked about" in London prettyconsiderably, and had a notion, now that he was a bachelor again, torepeat the process. Roger--a raw country boy, as the reader by thistime will admit--found himself entered upon a gay round of club andBohemian life, which to an old stager like the captain may have seemed alittle slow, but to a susceptible youth was decidedly attractive. Theguardian's fast acquaintances made the young heir of Maxfield welcome, and might have proceeded to pluck him had his protector permitted. Roger speedily discovered what hundreds of locks there are which themere rumour of money will unlock. He had never had such an idea of hisown importance before, and for a short time he deluded himself into thebelief that his popularity was due wholly and solely to his personalmerits. 

Captain Oliphant fostered this delusion carefully. 

"I hope you are enjoying yourself, my dear boy, " he would say, after aparticularly festive evening. 

"It's an excellent rule to make oneself agreeable in all circumstances. I envy you your facility. You see how it is appreciated. It does anold fogey like me good to see you enjoy yourself. "

"It was a pleasant enough evening, " said Roger, not quite withoutmisgivings on the subject, however. 

"By the way, who was the man, older than the others, who talked loudestand not always in the most classical English?"

The captain laughed pleasantly. 

"No. I should have been better pleased if he had not been of our party. He never was select, even in my young days, when I met him once ortwice. There used to be a saying among us that Fastnet, if he gave hismind to it--"

"Fastnet!"

The cab was dark, and the boy's pale face was invisible to his guardian. But the tone with which he caught at the name struck that goodgentleman. 

"Yes. What about it?"

"Only, " said Roger, after half a minute, and he spoke with an unusualeffort, "it seems a good name for him. "

Alone in his room that night Roger came to himself. A week or two agohe had hugged himself into the notion he was resolved to do his duty atall costs and in spite of all discouragement. Here had he been wastinga fortnight, forgetting duty, forgetting that he had a mission, posingas the heir, and accepting the compliments of a lot of time-servers who, now that he thought about them, valued him for nothing but his name andexpectations. 

And one of these--the least desirable of the lot--had been this Fastnet, the companion in profligacy of his lost brother, the one man, perhaps, from whom he might hope to obtain a clue as to the fate or whereaboutsof the man whose rights he, Roger, was usurping!

He was tempted to telegraph to Armstrong to come to his help. But hedismissed the thought. In this quest Armstrong was not with him. Heshrank from making a confidant of the captain. There was no one else tohelp him. He must play the game single-handed or not at all. 

Once more his courage failed. Ratman his brother, Fastnet his brother'sfriend! At what a cost to the good name of his house was this wrong tobe put right, this self-sacrifice to be accomplished. But ere he sleptthe honest man gained a victory over the poltroon. Providence had senthim stumbling into the track. It was not for him to draw back. 

Next morning both he and his guardian found letters on the breakfast-table re-directed in Rosalind's hand from Maxfield. The latter, as heglanced at his, scowled, and crushed the missive angrily into hispocket. It was a letter from Ratman, reminding him that a certain billwas falling due on the following day, and requiring him, on pain ofexposure, to honour it. 

Roger's letter was in the same hand. It was dated London, a day or twoback. Ratman said--

"Dear Brother, --I received your letter and enclosure. It is what Iexpected from you, but I hope it is not to be the last. I don't wonderat your suspecting my story--I don't particularly care whether youbelieve it or not. No doubt, with your respectable surroundings and theprospect before you, you are not over-anxious to claim brotherhood witha fellow of my sort. As long as you believe in me sufficiently not toleave me in the lurch, I shall be fairly content. But I cannot live onair, and have little else to support me. Don't be afraid I shall turnup again now until you want me. If I did, it would be not so much tosee you as to see some one else to whom, rake as I am, I have lost myheart, and to whom I look to you to put in a good word on my behalf. You ask for proofs. I can't give you any that I know of. Everything ischanged at Maxfield since I was there. Even the old hands like DrBrandram or Hodder would not recognise me after all these years. Infact, they have seen me and have not done so. They think I'm dead. That's my fault; for when I was ill in India--goodness knows how manyyears ago--with, as I thought, not a day more to live, I told a comradeto send home news of my death, and they all believed it. So you see itis easier to talk about proof than give it. The only person who mightbe able to remember me after I left home--I had a hideous row with myfather at the time--was a man called Fastnet, with whom I lodged inLondon, and who helped to make me the respectable specimen of humanity Ihave become. I lost sight of him long since, and for all I know he hasjoined the majority with all the others. I merely mention this to showyou how hopeless it is of me to attempt to prove what I say. You maymake your mind quite easy on that score. I shall probably return toIndia as soon as I am in funds. Except for the one reason I have named, I don't want to see Maxfield again--I've had enough of it. Nor do I seeany advantage in meeting you, so I give no address. But any lettersaddressed to the G. P. O. I shall receive. 

"Your brother, --

"Roger Ingleton. "

This letter dispelled any lingering doubt, or perhaps hope, in Roger'smind that he was on a wrong scent. The writer, in protesting hisinability to give any proof of his identity, had mentioned the two verycircumstances which the old Squire had referred to in his posthumousletter. He had admitted that he had gone to the bad in London incompany with a youth named Fastnet. The news of his death had reachedEngland from abroad. Besides, the reckless, devil-may-care tone of theepistle more than ever convinced the younger brother that this was nofraudulent claimant, but the honest growl of an outcast who littleguessed what his name was worth to him. Otherwise, why should he keepout of the way?

Captain Oliphant came to his room while these reflections were occupyinghis mind. He was too much preoccupied by the unpleasant contents of hisown letter to notice the trouble of his ward. 

"Roger, " said he, "business calls me away from town for a day or two. Iam sorry to interrupt our pleasant time together, but I hope it will notbe long. Make yourself comfortable here, and take care of yourself. "

"Are you going to Maxfield?" inquired Roger. 

"No. But an old comrade I find is in trouble and wants my advice. Itis a call I can hardly turn a deaf ear to. "

Had Roger guessed that the friend on whom so much devotion was to beexpended was Mr Robert Ratman, he would have displayed a good deal morecuriosity than he did as to his guardian's business. As it was, he wasnot sorry to be left thus to his own devices. 

"You know your way to the club by this time, " said the captain. "Makeyourself at home there--and keep out of mischief. "

That evening Roger went somewhat nervously to his guardian's club. Since last night he had grown to detest the place and the company. Butjust now it was the one place where he might expect to hear something ofhis lost brother. 

His new friends greeted him boisterously--and, relieved of the restraintof his guardian's presence, made more than usually merry in his honour. 

They chaffed him about his expectations, and quizzed him about Rosalind. They laughed at his rustic simplicity, and amused themselves by puttinghim to the blush. They plied him with wine and cigars, and rallied himon his pure demure face. One or two toadies sidled up and professed asympathy which was more offensive than the badinage. 

He endured all as best he could, for one reason and one only. Theloudest and coarsest of his tormentors was Mr Fastnet. 

At last, however, when, not for the first time, Rosalind's name had beendragged into the conversation, the blood of the Ingletons rose. 

The man who had spoken was a young _roue_, little more than Roger's ownage, and reputed to be a great man in the circles of the fast. 

"Excuse me, " said Roger, abruptly interrupting the laugh that followedthis hero's jest, "do you call yourself a gentleman?"

A bombshell on the floor could hardly have made a greater sensation. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, sir, that you're not a gentleman. "

The young gentleman staggered back as if he had been shot, and gapedround the audience, speechless. 

"Hullo, hullo, " said some one, "this is getting lively. "

Another of the party walked to the door and turned the key, and severalothers hastily finished up the contents of their glasses. 

Roger needed all his nerve to keep cool under the circumstances, but hesucceeded. 

All eyes were turned to the young gentleman, whose move it clearly wasnext. 

He was very red in his face and threatening in his demeanour, but whenit came to giving his feelings utterance his courage dwindled down intoa--

"Bah! sanctimonious young prig!"

The astonishment was now transferred to the onlookers. 

"Hullo, Compton, I say, " said Fastnet, "did you hear what he called you?Is that all you've got to say?"

The Honourable Mr Compton's face gradually bleached, as he looked fromone to the other. 

"He said you were no gentleman, " repeated Fastnet, determined thereshould be no mistake about the matter. "Isn't that so, youngster?"appealing to Roger. 

"That is what I said, " said Roger. 

The lily-livered hero was hanging out his true colours at last. 

"It's lucky for him, " snarled he, "he is only a visitor in this house. "

Fastnet and one or two of the others laughed disagreeably. 

"Ingleton, " said the former, taking control of the proceedingsgenerally, "are you willing to repeat what you said outside?"

"Certainly, " said Roger; "anywhere you like. And I shall be delightedto add that he is a coward. "

"There, Compton. Surely that satisfies you?"

Mr Compton, very white and downcast, took up his hat. 

"Thank you, " said he, with a pitiful affectation of superciliousness; "Itake no notice of young bumpkins like him, " and he turned on his heel. 

Fastnet stepped before him to the door. 

"Look here, Compton, " said he, "you're a member of this club. Do weunderstand you funk this affair?"

"I've something better to do than bother my head about him. Understandwhat you like. Let me go!"

Fastnet opened the door. 

"Clear out!" said he, with an oath; "and don't show your face hereagain, unless you want to be kicked. "

"What do you mean by that?"

"What I say. Be off, or I won't wait till you come again. "

Whereupon exit the Honourable Mr Compton with colours dipped. 

"Now, " said Fastnet, when he had gone, "it is only fair to the youngsterhere to say that we agree with him in his opinion of our late member. Eh, you men?"

General assent greeted the question. Upon which Mr Fastnet suggestedthat, as the evening had been spoiled, the house do adjourn. 

"You'd better come and have supper with me, " said he to Roger. 

And Roger, feeling his chance had come, accepted. 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. 

"WHEN THE CAT'S AWAY--"

Maxfield Manor, however cheery a place in summer-time, with itshousehold in full swing, was decidedly desolate in dark Novemberweather, with only a housekeeper in charge--that is to say, to any onebut the two young persons on whom the honours of the house devolved, itwould have appeared dull. 

Mr Armstrong delayed his visit to Oxford for some days after thedeparture of the Captain and Roger. There was a good deal of businessto be done in connection with the estate, and as Mr Pottingerdiscovered, when the second trustee did take it into his head to lookinto things, it was no child's play. He had an uncomfortable manner, this tutor, of demanding explanations and particulars with all the airof the proprietor himself, and was not to be put off by any dilatorytactics on the part of the official with whom the explanation lay. Asin the present case the business transacted was chiefly in connectionwith leases and conveyances, the unfortunate lawyer had a rough week ofit, and felt at the end very much like one of his own clients after ayear in Chancery. However, the inquisitor appeared to be fairly wellsatisfied when all was done, so that Mr Pottinger, who all along had onhis mind the uncomfortable consciousness of a few well-hiddenirregularities, was doubly relieved when the tutor dropped his glassfinally from his eye and observed--

"I need not trouble you further at present, sir. "

It was after this final interview that Mr Armstrong looked in on hisfriend the doctor. 

"I'm off to Oxford for a day or two, " said he. 

"No attractions here?" asked the doctor. 

"Yes--you among others. "

"And who's to wash and dress the babies at Maxfield? And who is to keepthe wolf from the fold at the Vicarage? and who is to keep an eye on theman of the law across the way?"

"The babes are well qualified to nurture one another. The man of thelaw is under closer observation than he imagines. As to the wolf, Icame to speak to you about that. He may make a descent on the fold, inwhich case Dr Brandram must go out with swords and staves and give himbattle. "

The doctor laughed. 

"I like your ideas of the medical profession. Its duties are variegatedand lively. However, make yourself easy this time. I hear to-day thatthe young ladies at the Vicarage with their governess are to go onMonday to Devonshire. "

"Good, " said Mr Armstrong, decidedly relieved. 

"When does your ward return?" said the doctor. "I dislike this Londonbusiness altogether. Oliphant is not to be trusted with a boy of hisdelicate make. You should have stopped it. "

The tutor said nothing, but looked decidedly dejected. He was greatlytempted to confide the difficulties of the situation to his friend. Butthe dead Squire's secret was not his to give away. 

"Unless they come home soon, " said he, "I have a notion of returningfrom Oxford by way of London. "

"Do--the sooner the better. "

When, on the next day, Miss Rosalind sailed up to Maxfield to bid herbrother and sister farewell, it fell to the tutor's lot to escort herback to the Vicarage. 

"Mr Armstrong, " said she abruptly, as they went, "why have you andRoger quarrelled?"

Mr Armstrong looked round uncomfortably. 

"Quarrelled?"

"Yes. Do you suppose he would go away like this for any other reason?Won't you tell me what it is about?"

"Roger and I have agreed to differ on a certain point. Miss Oliphant. We have not quarrelled?"

"You cannot trust me, I see, or you would tell me what the trouble is. "

"I trust you completely, Miss Oliphant. I will gladly tell you. "

Five minutes ago wild horses would not have extorted the confession fromhim. But somehow or other, as he looked at her standing there, he couldnot help himself. 

"Roger has got an impression that his elder brother is still living, andis to be found; and, if found, that he ought to be made possessor ofMaxfield. I am unable to sympathise in what I look upon as anunprofitable quest. That is the whole story. "

"Why cannot you back him up, Mr Armstrong?"

"I believe his fancy is utterly groundless; besides which, if the personhe believes to be the missing brother is really Roger Ingleton, todiscover him would mean disgrace to Maxfield, and an injury to the nameof Ingleton. "

"What! Mr Armstrong, do you mean to say--"

"I mean to say that Mr Robert Ratman claims to be the lost elderbrother, and that Roger credits the story. Miss Oliphant, I am gratefulto you for sharing this confidence with me. You can help Roger in thismatter better than I can. "

She looked at him with a flush in her face, and then replied ratherdismally, "I fear not--for, to be as frank with you as you are with me, I am dreadfully afraid Roger is right. The same fancy passed through mymind when first I saw Mr Ratman. I had recently been studying the lostbrother's portrait, you know, and was struck and horrified by theresemblance. Mr Armstrong, " added she, after a pause, "if I wereRoger's guardian and tutor, I would stand by him all the more that hisduty is an unpleasant one. Thank you; here we are at the gate. Good-bye. I hope you will have a pleasant time at Oxford. "

And she passed in, leaving the good man in a sad state of bewildermentand perplexity. 

He started a day or two later in a somewhat depressed frame of mind forOxford, where he astonished and delighted most of his old creditors bycalling and paying off a further instalment of his debts to them. Buthis satisfaction in this act of restitution was sadly tempered by thesense of coercion put upon him by the doctor and Rosalind, and theconviction that, wise or foolish, pleasant or unpleasant, his place wasat his young pupil's side. No excuse, or pleadings of a false pride, could dispel the feeling. No, he must climb down, own himself wrong, and sue for permission to assist in a quest in which he had little faithand still less inclination. 

While he is making up his mind, it may be worth the reader's while toremark what was happening at Maxfield. 

Tom and Jill woke one morning to discover themselves lord and lady ofthe situation. In their lamentations, not unmingled with a sense ofinjury, at the desertion of which they were the victims, it had notoccurred to them to realise that there were alleviating circumstances intheir forlorn condition. 

The great manor-house was theirs--library, dining-hall, corridors, haunted chamber, roof, cellars--all except the servant's hall and theroom where Mrs Parker, the housekeeper, held austere sway. The parkwas theirs, the woods, the stream, the paddocks, and the live-stock. Nay, when they came to reckon all up, half the county was theirs, and amile or so of sea-beach into the bargain. 

They were absolutely free to roam where they liked, do what they liked, eat what they liked, and sit up at night to any hour that pleased them. Mrs Parker, good soul, though excellent in academic exhortations andprohibitions, was too infirm to put her laws into active practice; andwhen, a day or two after the place had been left in her charge, shesuccumbed to a touch of her enemy, the lumbago, and had to take to herbed, these two young persons, though extremely sorry for her misfortune, felt that the whole world lay like a glorious football at their feet. 

"Good old Jilly!" exclaimed Tom in his balmiest mood one morning, whenthese two young prodigals assembled for breakfast in the big dining-roomat the fashionable hour of eleven, with Raffles in full livery to attendupon them. "This is what I call a lark and a half. Raffles, pass MissJill the honey; and walk about, and make yourself useful. I tell youwhat, we'll go and have a snap at the pheasants, and try a few dropkicks over the Martyr's oak. What do you say?"

"I can't shoot awfully well, " said Jill apologetically. "I'd sooner, ifyou don't mind, Tom, walk about on the roof, or help you let the waterout of the big pond. "

"Raffles, old chappie, more toast--a lot more toast for Miss Jill. I'llhave a wing of something myself. The fact is, Jilly, " said he, whenRaffles had departed on his quest, "I wanted to get the beast out of theway while I told you I'd got an idea. "

"Oh, _what_, Tom?" asked Jill, in tones of surprised pleasure. Tomglanced round cautiously, and then whispered, "You and I'll give a smallkick-up here on our own hooks. What do you say?"

"A party! Oh Tom! how clever of you to think of that!"

"You see, " said Tom, accepting the homage meekly, "the other day in thelibrary, when we were turning out all the drawers, I found a whole lotof `At Home' cards, and the list of fellows that were asked to Roger'sbirthday party. "

"How lovely!" exclaimed Jill; "we'll just--"

But here the return of Raffles, and a significant scowl from Tom, warnedher to defer her suggestion. 

The meal over, the conspirators met in the library, and put their headstogether over Tom's documents. 

"That's about the ticket, isn't it?" said he, displaying one of theinvitation cards which he had experimentally filled up. 

 "_Dr Brandram_--

 "_Mr and Miss Oliphant at home on Wednesday, December 2, at 7 o'clock. Music, dancing, fireworks, etcetera_. 

 "_R. S. V. P_. "

"But we haven't got any fireworks, " suggested Jill; "we'll have to getsome. And what about the band?"

"I shall write to the Colonel of the Grenadiers and order it. Anyhow, you can play the Goblin polka if we get stuck up. "

Jill wondered whether, after an hour or two, her one piece (even thoughdear Mr Armstrong liked it) might not pall on a large assembly, and shedevoutly hoped the Grenadiers would accept. 

"There's a hundred and fifty names down, " said Tom. "May as well havethe lot while we're about it. "

"Isn't two days rather a short invitation?" asked Jill. 

"Bless you, no. You see, we're not out of mourning. Besides, MotherParker may be well again if we don't look sharp, or Armstrong may turnup. "

"How I wish he would!"

"He'd spoil everything. Look here, Jill, look alive and write thecards. I'll call out. "

The two spent a most industrious morning, so much so that the householdmarvelled at their goodness, and remarked to one another, "The childrenare no trouble at all. "

Towards the end of the sitting Tom flung down his paper with a whistleof dismay. 

"I say, Jill, they ought to be black-edged!"

Jill turned pale. 

"What is to be done?" she gasped. 

"We'll have to doctor them with pen and ink, " said Tom. 

So for another hour or so they occupied themselves painfully in puttingtheir invitations into mourning. The result was not whollysatisfactory, for a card dipped edgeways into a shallow plate of ink isapt to take on its black unevenly. So that while some of the guestswere invited with signs of the slightest sorrow, the company of otherswas requested with tokens of the deepest bereavement. However, on thewhole the result was passable, and that evening Tom slunk down to Yeldpost office with a bundle under his arm. At the last moment adifficulty had arisen with regard to postage, as, between them, the twocould not raise the thirteen shillings required to stamp the lot. However, by a lucky accident Tom discovered a bundle of halfpennywrappers, the property of the estate, which (after scrupulously writingan I. O. U. For the amount) he borrowed. 

"Saved a clean six-and-six by that, " he remarked, when the last waslicked up; "that'll go into the fireworks. "

Jill, whose admiration for her brother's genius knew no bounds, feltalmost happy. 

It was Monday evening when the Yeld post-master was exercised in hismind by hearing a loud rap down-stairs, which on inquiry he found tohave proceeded from the discharge of 150 mysterious-looking halfpennymissives, written in a very round hand, into his box. Being an activeand intelligent person, he felt it his duty to examine one, addressed, as it happened, to the Duke of Somewhere. After some consideration, anda study of his rules and regulations, he came to the conclusion that theenclosure was of the nature of a letter, and thereupon proceeded to markeach with a claim for a penny excess postage. Which done, he retired tohis parlour, relieved in his mind. 

Tom and Jill had more to do than to speculate on the adventures of theircarefully-written cards. 

"Now about grub!" said Tom that evening. 

Once more Jill turned a little pale. She had been dreading this fatefulquestion all along. 

"What do you think?" said she diplomatically. 

Tom, of course, had thought the problem out. 

"We must keep it dark from the slaveys, " said he, "at least tilleverybody comes, then they're bound to give us a leg up. I fancy we canscrape a thing or two up from what's in the house. And I've called inat one or two of the shops at Yeld and told them to send up some thingsaddressed to `Miss J. Oliphant--private. ' There was rather a nice lotof herrings just in, so I got three dozen of them cheap. Then I toldthem at the confectioner's to send up all the strawberry ices they couldin the time, and 150 buns. You see everybody is sure not to come, sothere'll be plenty to go round. "

"Didn't Mr Rusk ask what they were for?" inquired Jill. 

"I said Mr Oliphant presented his kind regards, and would be glad tohave the things sharp. "

Next morning, greatly to the delight of the hospitable pair, theherrings came up in a basket, addressed privately to Miss Jill. Laterin the day tradesmen's carts rattled up the back drive with similarmissives, not a little to the bewilderment of the servants of the house, who shook their heads and wished Mrs Parker would make a speedyrecovery. 

Tom adroitly captured the booty, and half won over Raffles to aid andabet in the great undertaking. 

"Good old Raffy, " said he, as the two staggered across the hall with oneof Miss Jill's private boxes between them; "would you like a threepennybit?"

Raffles, whose ideas of a tip were elastic, admitted that he was open toreceive even the smallest coin. 

"All right, mum's the word. Jill and I have a thing on, and we don'twant it spoiled by the slaveys. "

Raffles said that, as far as he knew, the "slaveys" were thinking aboutanything else than the proceedings of the two young Oliphants. "Besides, " said he, "being 'olidays, there's only me and the cook, and amaid--and she's took up with nursing Mrs Parker. "

"Poor old Parker! How is she? Pretty chippy? Sorry she's laid up. All serene, Raff. Keep it mum, and you shall have the threepenny. Jolly heavy box that--that's the cocoa-nuts. "

"Oh, you're going to have a feast, are you?" said Raffles. 

"Getting on that way, " said Tom. "We can't ask you, you know, becauseyou'll have to wait. But you shall have some of the leavings if youback us up. "

With locked doors that night Tom and Jill unpacked and took stock oftheir commissariat. 

"Thirty-six herrings cut up in four, " said Tom, with an arithmeticalprecision which would have gratified Mr Armstrong, "makes 144 goes ofherring. If every man-jack turns up, that'll only be six goes short, and if you and I sit out of it, only four. We might cheek in a head ortwo by accident to make that up. "

"Who will cook them?" asked Jill. 

"Oh, we can do that, I fancy, on a tray or something. Then six cocoa-nuts into 150 will be twenty-five. You'll have to cut each one intotwenty-five bits, Jill. Then one bun apiece, and--oh, the ice! How onearth are we to slice that up? There's about a soup-plate full. Couldn't get strawberry, so he's sent coffee. "

"Ugh!" said Jill; "I'll give up my share. "

"I did my best, " said Tom. "It's not my fault strawberries are out ofseason. "

"Of course not. You're awfully clever, Tom. What should I have donewithout you?"

"Good old Jilly! What about plates?"

The consultation lasted far into the night. 

Next morning the post brought a dozen or so of polite notes which sentthe hearts of the hospitable pair into their mouths. The first theyopened was from the Duke of Somewhere, who gravely "accepted withpleasure Mr and Miss Oliphant's polite invitation. "

Several of the others were acceptances--one or two refusals. 

"Five scratched already, " said Tom. "That'll make it all right for theherrings. "

In the afternoon Dr Brandram called. He carried his invitation card inhis hand. 

"What game are you at now?" he demanded. 

"Oh, I say, Doctor, keep it quiet! You'll come, won't you? There'll bea tidy spread--enough to go all round; and the Duke and his lot arecoming, and we expect the Grenadiers. "

"Doctor, " said Jill, "we shall depend on you so much. Do come early!"

Dr Brandram drove back to Yeld in a dazed condition of mind. He wastempted to telegraph to the Duke and the county generally; to set a bodyof police to prevent any one entering the Maxfield gates; to shut thetwo miscreants up in the coal-cellar; to run away, and not return tillnext week. 

But after an hysterical consultation with himself, he decided that itwas too late to do anything but cast in his lot with the other victims, and go dressed in all his best to Miss Oliphant's "At Home, " and do whathe could to steer her and her graceless brother out of theirpredicament. 

As the fateful hour approached, Tom began to be a little nervous. Hehad not anticipated the vast number of small details demanding hispersonal attention. 

For instance, there was the cooking of the herrings. Jill had noblyundertaken that task at the drawing-room fire, which was the mostcapacious. But then, if they ran it too fine, the guests might arrivewhile the fish were still fizzling on the tray. If, on the other hand, they were cooked too soon, they would be lukewarm by the time the guestscame to sit down to them. Again, there were the starlights and Romancandles to get into position outside, and arrangements had to be madefor their protection from the damp November mist. Then, too, thefaithless Grenadiers had not turned up, which necessitated Jilldeserting her herrings and privately practising the Goblin polka, inview of possible emergencies. Further, the table had to be laid, andevery guest's "go" of buns, and cocoa-nut, and coffee-ice, doled out inreadiness. And at the last moment there arose a difficulty in raisingthe requisite number of knives, forks, spoons, and plates. Then hediscovered that the covers were still on the drawing-room chairs and thedust-cloth on the floor, and much time and trouble was necessary fortheir removal. Finally, he and Jill had to dress to receive theirguests. 

"I think it will be a jolly evening, " said he somewhat doubtfully, asthey hurried to their rooms. 

"I'm sure it will, " said Jill, whose mind had not once been clouded by adoubt. "The herrings will be cold, that's the only thing. But they maythink that's the newest fashion. "

"Look sharp and dress, anyhow, " said Tom, "because you've got to cutthem in fours and stick them round on the plates, and it's half-past sixalready. "

Half an hour later a grand carriage and pair drove up to the door, andRaffles solemnly announced--

"His Grace the Duke of Somewhere, and the Ladies Marigold. "

Miss Oliphant's evening party had begun!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. 

MISS JILL OLIPHANT AT HOME. 

When His Grace, who had been a good deal puzzled by his abrupt, under-stamped invitation, stepped, head in air, into the drawing-room, he wassomewhat taken aback to discover neither the captain nor his charmingelder daughter, but instead, to be greeted by a little girl, nervouslyput forward by a small boy, and saying--

"Oh, duke, _do_ you mind coming? I hope you'll enjoy the party so much. There'll be some dancing presently, and supper as soon as all theothers come. "

"You're the first, " said Tom. "Never mind, the others won't be long. Like to read the newspaper, or take a turn round?"

Mentally he was calculating how he should manage to squeeze in theduke's two daughters, who hadn't been invited, at his hospitable board. 

The duke smiled affably. 

"We are rather early, but Miss Rosalind will excuse--"

"Oh, she's away--so is father. This is my party and Tom's. Oh, duke, do try and like it!" said Jill, taking the great man's hand. 

The duke cast a scared look over his shoulder at his daughters, who werestaring in a somewhat awestruck manner at their two small hosts. 

"If the girls would like to begin dancing, " suggested Tom, "Jill canplay her piece now, and you can take one, and I'll take the other. It'll keep the things going, you know, till the rest turn up. "

At this juncture Dr Brandram was announced, greatly to Tom's delight, who, among so many strangers, was beginning to feel a little shy. 

"That's all right, " said he. "Good old Brandy! you lead off with one ofthe Marigold girls, while I stop here and do the how-d'ye-do's. "

The doctor, with a serious face, led His Grace aside. 

"This appears to be a freak of the two young people, " said he. "Theyare the only members of the family at home. I am very sorry you havebeen victimised. "

"Tut, tut, " said the duke, recovering his good-humour rapidly, "I don'tmean to be a victim at all. I mean to enjoy myself; so do you, doctor. Girls, " said he to his daughters, "you must see the youngsters throughthis. Ha, ha! what is the rising generation coming to, to be sure. "

Arrivals now began to drop in smartly, and as Tom looked round on thegradually filling drawing-room, a mild perspiration broke out on hisingenious brow. 

Jill had gallantly struck up her polka on the piano, but as no onelistened and no one danced, she gave it up and returned to the supportof her brother. 

"It's going splendidly, " said Tom in a stage whisper; "they all seem tobe enjoying it. "

They certainly were--for as each gradually took in the situation, andreceived his cue from his neighbour, an unwonted air of humour permeatedthe room. 

A few hoity-toity persons of course felt outraged, and would haveordered their carriages had there been any one to order them from. Thehonest Raffles was, to tell the truth, secretly busy, on a signal fromTom, preparing for the banquet in the dining-room, and no other servantwas to be seen. 

"My dear, " said Mrs Pottinger, in a severely audible voice to herhusband, "I wish to return home. Will you get our carriage? My ideasof amusement do not correspond with those of the young people. "

"Oh, don't go yet!" said Tom, with beaming face, for he had caught sightof Raffles' powdered wig at the door; "there's some grub ready in thenext room. It would have been ready before, only the herrings--"

"Tom, " said Jill, "there's the Bishop just come. He couldn't come forRoger's birthday, you know. "

"How do you do, Bishop?" said Tom, grasping the new arrival by the hand. "Jolly you could come this time. I was just saying there's some grubin the next room. Jill, Raff had better ring up on the gong, tell him. "

Raffles accordingly sounded an alarm on the gong, which brought thecompany to attention. 

"Supper!" cried Tom encouragingly, and led the way, allowing the companygenerally to sort themselves. 

The Duke behaved nobly that night. He gallantly gave his arm to Jill, and asked the Bishop to bring in one of his daughters. This saved MissOliphant's party from the collapse which threatened it. Every one tookthe cue from the great people. Even Mrs Pottinger accepted the arm ofthe curate, and the ardent youths, who had all arrived under thedelusion that Miss Rosalind was the hostess, forgot theirdisappointment, and vowed to see the youngsters through with it. 

"Oh, Duke!" said Jill, hanging affectionately on her noble escort's arm, "are you liking it? Do try and like it! It's Tom's and my first party, and we want it to be a jolly one. "

"I never enjoyed a party half so much, " said His Grace. 

Jill thought him at that moment almost as nice as dear Mr Armstrong. 

"Jill, " said Tom, waylaying his sister at the door, "we might have cutthe herrings in three after all. Never mind, some of them will be ableto have two goes. I'll see you do. Good old Jilly. Isn't it going offprime? And you know, the fireworks are still to come!"

It was too severe a strain on the gravity of some of the guests whenthey beheld each his "go" of lukewarm herring, cocoa-nut, coffee-ice, and penny bun, with a single plate to accommodate the whole, on theboard before him. But the laughter, if it reached the ears of thegenial host and hostess, was taken by them as a symptom of delight, inwhich they heartily shared. 

Tom, as he cast his eye down the festive board--object of so muchsolicitude and physical exertion--never felt happier in his life. Morethan half of the company would be able to get a second helping of fishand bun!

"Wire in, " said he to his guests generally, and to the younger LadyMarigold, his next neighbour, in particular, "before it gets cold. Awfully sorry the cocoa-nut milk wasn't enough to go round, so Jill andI thought--"

Here a guilty look from Jill pulled him up. Dear old Jilly, he wouldn'tlet out on her for worlds. 

A good many eyes turned curiously to where the Duke sat with his "go"before him. Those who were quick at observing details noticed that hehad ranged his cocoa-nut and ice on the edge of his plate, and wasbeginning to attack his herring with every sign of relish. His portionconsisted mostly of hard roe, for which he had no natural predilection, but this evening he seemed to enjoy it, helping it down with occasionalbites at the bun, and keeping up a cheerful conversation the while. 

The Bishop, too, who had a tail, was making a capital meal, as were alsoseveral other of the guests near him. 

"Capital fish!" said the Duke presently. Then beckoning to Raffles, "Can you get me a little more?"

"Yes, your grace. "

Tom felt a little anxious lest Raffles should select from out of thesurplus "goes" one of those with the heads which were to eke out in alast emergency. But when he saw that the duke's second helpingconsisted of a prime "waist" he rejoiced with all his heart. 

"Isn't it nice?" asked Jill, who had been busily at work under theshadow of his ducal wing. 

"My dear little lady, I never tasted such a meal in my life. "

In due time the cocoa-nut and coffee-ice were attacked with quite asmuch relish as the first course; after which Tom, looking a little warm, rose and made a little speech. 

"I hope you've all liked it, " said he. "I was afraid there wouldn't beenough, but some of them didn't turn up, so it was all right after all. Jill--that's my young sister here--cut the `goes' up, and I don't knowanybody more fair all round than her. She and I are awfully glad youcame, and hope you'll have a good old time. Please don't tell thegovernor or Rosalind we gave this party. I beg to propose the health ofmy young sister--good old Jilly. She's a regular brick, and has backedup no end in this do. No heel-taps!"

A good many healths had been drunk in the county during the year, butfew of them were more genuinely responded to than this. And no queenever bore her honours more delightfully than the little heroine of theevening. 

"I suppose we'd better cut into the next room now, " suggested Tom, whenthis function was over. "There'll be some fireworks by and by; but anyone who likes a hop meanwhile can have one. Jill knows a ripping pieceto play. "

The invitation was cordially responded to, and when, after sundryrepetitions of the "ripping" piece, the eldest Miss Marigold offered toplay a waltz, and after her Miss Shafto relieved duty with a polka, andafter her one of the ardent youths actually condescended to perform aset of quadrilles, in which His Grace the Duke, with Jill as hispartner, led off _vis-a-vis_ with the Bishop and the sister of themember for the county, there was no room to doubt the glorious successof Miss Oliphant's party. 

Tom meanwhile, joyous at heart, warm in temperature, and excited inmind, was groping on his knees on the damp grass outside the drawing-room window, fixing his two threepenny Roman candles in reversed flowerpots, and planting his starlights, crackers, and Catherine-wheels inadvantageous positions in the vicinity, casting now and again adelighted glance at the animated scene within, and wondering if he hadever spent a jollier evening anywhere. 

It disturbed him to hear a vehicle rattle up the drive, and to arguetherefrom that some belated guest had missed the feast. Never mind; heshouldn't be quite out of it. 

"Raffles, " called he, as he caught sight of that hardworking functionarythrough the dining-room window removing the _debris_ of the banquet, "leave a few `goes' out on the table for any chaps who come late, andthen go and tell Jill I'm ready, and turn down the gas in the drawing-room. "

In due time Raffles delivered his momentous message. 

"Oh, the fireworks!" cried Miss Jill, clapping her hands, "the fireworksare to begin. Aren't you glad, duke? Do get a good seat before the gasis turned down. "

The company crowded into the big bay-window, and endured the extinctionof the light with great good-humour. Indeed, a certain gentleman whoentered the room at this particular juncture, seeing nothing, buthearing the laughter and talk, said to himself that this was as merry anoccasion as it had been his lot to participate in. 

The dim form of Tom might be seen hovering without, armed with a bull's-eye lantern, at which he diligently kindling matches, which refused tostay in long enough to ignite the refractory fireworks. 

"Never mind, " said he to himself, "they'll like it when they do go off. "

So they did. After a quarter of an hour's waiting one of the Romancandles went off with vast _eclat_, and after it two crackerssimultaneously gave chase to the operator half-way round the lawn. Oneof the Catherine-wheels was also prevailed upon to give a few languidrotations on its axis, and some of the squibs, which had unfortunatelygot damp, condescended, after being inserted bodily into the lantern, togo off. Presently, however, the wind got into the lantern, and thematches being by this time exhausted, and the starlights refusing todepart from their usual abhorrence for spontaneous combustion, thejudicious Tom deemed it prudent to pronounce this part of theentertainment at an end. 

"All over!" he shouted through the window. "Turn up the light. "

When, after the applause which greeted this imposing display, the gaswas turned up, the first sight which met Miss Jill's eyes was the formof Mr Robert Ratman, in travelling costume, nodding familiarly acrossthe room. 

At the sight the little lady's face blanched, and the joy of the eveningvanished like smoke. 

"Oh, Duke!" she exclaimed, clinging to her guest's arm, "do please turnthat wicked man there out of the house. We didn't invite him, and he'sno right, really. If dear Mr Armstrong was only here! Please put himout. "

The duke looked a little blank at this appeal. 

"Why, child, really? Who is he?" he asked. 

"A wicked, bad man, that I hate; and I did think you would be kindenough to--"

"What is his name?"

"Mr Ratman; he hurt me awfully once. "

The duke, feeling that Miss Oliphant's party was taking rather a seriousturn, walked across the room to where Mr Ratman was already engaged inan uncomfortable colloquy with Dr Brandram. 

"What are you doing here?" the doctor had asked. 

"That's my business, " said Mr Ratman. "For the matter of that, whatare you doing here?"

"Among other things, I am here to see that the young people of the houseare not annoyed by the intrusion of a person called Ratman. "

"And I, " said the duke, coming up, "am here to advise you to savetrouble by leaving the house. "

"And who are you, sir?"

"I am the Duke of Somewhere. "

"Proud to renew my acquaintance, sir. May I ask if you have quiteforgotten me?"

"Sir, you have the advantage of me. I never saw you before. "

"Pardon me, my lord, you saw me a month ago, at a birthday party in thisvery house. "

"If so, I was not sufficiently impressed sir, to remember you now. Irepeat my request as the friend of the young lady. "

"Ah, indeed!" said Ratman; "I am not aware, your grace, of your right tospeak to me in the name of Miss Oliphant, or anybody else. "

"Oh, " said Tom, arriving on the scene at this juncture, "you there, Ratty? you'd better clear out. All the grub's done, and you're notwanted here. We didn't ask you--took care not to. Rosalind's not here. This is Jilly's and my party. Isn't it, you chaps?" The chapsappealed to, His Grace, the doctor, and one or two of the other guests, corroborated this statement. 

Mr Ratman leant comfortably against the wall. 

"Flattering reception, " said he. "I am inclined to take your lordship'sadvice and go; but before I do, may I ask your lordship again if youreally do not remember me?"

"I never saw you before, sir, " said His Grace; "and allow me to add, Ihave no desire to see you again. "

"_Dear_ Duke!" whispered Jill encouragingly, putting her hand in his. 

"Odd the changes a few years make, " rejoined Mr Ratman. "I presumeyour lordship's memory can carry you back a little time--say twentyyears?"

"What of that, sir?"

"Merely that if that is so, you probably can remember a lad named RogerIngleton who lived in this house, son of the old Squire. "

There was a dead silence now, and the Duke looked in a startled way atthe speaker. 

"I see you remember that boy, " said the intruder; "and you probablyheard the story of my--I mean his quarrel with his father, and alsoheard of his supposed death. Now, your grace, put twenty years on tothat boy, and suppose the story of his death was a myth, then say againyou don't remember me. "

"What, you mean to say _you_ are young Roger Ingleton?"

"At your grace's service. "

Tom gave a whistle, half dismay, half amusement. The doctor smiledcontemptuously. The duke bit his lip and gazed stolidly at the speaker. 

"You are not obliged to believe me, " said the latter jauntily; "only youwanted to know my business in Maxfield, and I have told you. I don'tsay I'm the heir, for I understand my father was good enough to cut meout of every penny of his estate. And as for being a paragon of virtue, or the opposite, that's my affair and no one else's--eh, your grace?"

His Grace was much disturbed. He had once seen young Roger Ingleton, atthat time a mere boy, but retained no distinct memory of him. At thetime of the quarrel between father and son he had been abroad, and thenews of the lad's death had been formally communicated as a matterbeyond question. Recognition, as far as he was concerned, wasimpossible. 

"You choose a strange time, sir, " said he, "for coming here with thisstory, when the heir and his guardians are both away. "

"I supposed my brother was here, " said Ratman. "In any case he knowswho I am; so does your friend the tutor, Dr Brandram. "

"Oh, why _do_ you stop talking to that hateful man instead of coming, and enjoying the party?" pleaded Jill. 

"Ah, my little lady, is that you?" said Ratman advancing. 

But his passage was intercepted by the doctor. 

"Gently, my friend, " said he. "Now that you have relieved yourself ofyour pretty story, let me suggest that the easiest way out of this houseis by the door. "

"Who are you, sir?" blustered Ratman. 

Dr Brandram laughed. 

"I must have changed in twenty years as much as you, " said he. 

"I am not going to ask _your_ leave to be in my father's house. "

"I am not going to ask your leave to put you out of it. "

Tom's spirits rose. There seemed every promise of an unrehearsedentertainment for the delectation of his guests. 

"I caution you, sir. "

"I will take all responsibility, " said the doctor. "Anything more youhave to say can just as well be said in Mr Pottinger's office to-morrowmorning as here. "

"Thank you, sir, " said Mr Ratman, with a snarl. "It is never pleasantto have to introduce oneself, but I am glad to have had the opportunitybefore this distinguished company. It is now the turn of the other sideto move. If they want me they must find me. Good night, your grace;you are a nice loyal neighbour to an old comrade's boy. Good night, you, sir; take as much responsibility as you like if it is anysatisfaction to you. Good-bye, my pretty little Jill; some day you'llhave to call me cousin Roger, and then we'll be quits. Good night, gentlemen and ladies all. The prodigal's return has not been a success, I own, but it's a fact all the same. _Au revoir_. "

And he bowed himself out. 

"This fellow is either the most impudent villain I ever met, " said theDuke, "or there is something in his story. "

This seemed to be the general impression. A few, Dr Brandram amongthem, scoffed irreverently at the whole affair. But the majority ofthose present felt decidedly disturbed by the incident, and poor MissJill Oliphant had the mortification of seeing her party drop flat afterall. 

Tom and she made Herculean efforts to rehabilitate it. Jill played herpolka till she was tired, and Tom, after setting out all the duplicate"goes" in the hall, retired to grope in the wet grass for a few of theunexploded squibs. 

Some of the guests did what they could to back their hosts up, and madegreat show of enjoying themselves, but the Duke was preoccupied, and theBishop was pensive. The Marigold girls talked in a corner, and MrPottinger was out in the hall calling for his carriage. 

"Odious man!" said the poor little hostess, "he's spoiled all our fun. No one likes our party now. They'll all be glad to get away; and we didtry so hard to make it jolly. "

"Never mind, " said Tom cheerfully, "it would have been worse if he hadturned up before the grub and the fireworks. They didn't miss them. Keep it up, Jilly, I say; it's going off all right. "

When it came to saying good night, every one remembered their genialentertainers, and Jill was a little consoled by the assurances shereceived on all hands that the evening had been a delightful one. 

"Try to think it was nice, " said she, "and don't go saying it was horridas soon as you get outside. It's Tom's and my first party, you know. "

And she kissed all the gentlemen, from the Duke downward, and Tom, hovering in the hall, pressed his farewell refreshments, as far as theywould go, upon them and gave them a "leg up" into their carriages. 

Dr Brandram stayed till the end. 

"I should have to come and see Mrs Parker in the morning in any case, "said he, "so I have told Raffles to make me a shake down in Armstrong'sroom to-night. I may as well stay here. "

The precaution, however, was unnecessary. Mr Ratman had vanished. Hedid not call on Mr Pottinger next morning, nor was he to be found atthe hotel. He had returned by the early morning train to London. 

CHAPTER NINETEEN. 

A FEEBLE CLUE. 

Mr Fastnet's lodgings were a good deal less imposing than Roger, whohad hitherto only met the owner at the club, had pictured to himself. In fact, the small sitting-room, with bedroom to match, commonlyfurnished, reeking of tobacco, and hung all round with sporting anddramatic prints, was quite as likely a refuge for an unfledged medicalstudent as for a person of the swagger and presence of Mr FelixFastnet. 

"No use to me, " he explained, interpreting his young guest's thought, "except as a dog-kennel. I live at the club--breakfast, lunch, dinner--everything; but I was so disgusted with the performance of that youngcad to-night that I even prefer the dog-kennel. Have a soda?"

Roger accepted, and sat down by the fire. 

"Yes, " growled on his host; "I'm father of that club, and I don't liketo see it degraded. If he'd gone for you, and kicked you into thestreet, I shouldn't have lifted a finger to stop him. He could havemade hay of you if I'd chosen, a sickly youngster like you. "

"I wonder he did not, " said Roger; "but, Mr Fastnet, now I have metyou, I want to ask you a question. "

"Ask away. "

"My name, as you know, is Roger Ingleton. Have you never met any one ofmy name before?"

"Bless me, no. Why should I?"

"I had a namesake once who came to London, and I wondered if youpossibly knew him. "

"My dear sir, I don't know quite all the young men who have come toLondon during the last twenty years. What makes you think it?"

"My namesake was a brother--son of my father's first wife. He left homeand disappeared. Rumour says he went to London, where he was last heardof in company of a companion named Fastnet. "

Mr Fastnet put down his glass. 

"Eh?" said he. "The Fastnets are not a big clan. Are you sure that wasthe name?"

"It was certainly the name that reached me. "

"Must refer to some one else then. I never knew or heard of any one ofthe name of Ingleton in my life. "

Roger's countenance fell. The new scent appeared likely to be a falseone after all. 

"How long ago is all this?" asked his host. 

"More than twenty years. My brother left home in a pique, and, I'mafraid, went to the bad in--"

"Twenty years?" said Mr Fastnet, putting down his cigar beside theglass. "What sort of fellow was he? A harum-scarum young dog, withimpudent eyes, and a toss of his head that would have defied the benchof bishops?"

"That is he, " said Roger excitedly. 

"Sit down!" continued Fastnet--"curly hair, arms like a young Hercules, as obstinate as a bulldog, with a temper like a tiger?"

"Yes, yes! that must be the same. "

"Left his mother and father in a furious tantrum, with a vow to cut offhis head before he showed face at home again? A regular young demon, ashonest as the Bank of England--no taste for vice in any shape or form, but plunged into it just to spite his friends, civil enough when you gothim on the weather side, and no fool? Was that the fellow?"

"I'm sure you describe the very man, " said Roger. 

"Man? He was a boy; a raw-boned green boy, smarting under a sense ofinjustice, a regular, thorough-paced young Ishmaelite as you ever saw. I should fancy I did know him. But his name was not Ingleton. "

"What was it?"

"Jack Rogers. "

"No doubt he adopted his own Christian name as a disguise. "

"Very likely. I could never get him to talk about his people. His oneobject was to lose himself--body and soul--it seemed to me. Bless you, I had little enough voice in his proceedings. I was wild enough, but Ipromise you I was a milksop to him. Neck or nothing was his motto, andhe lived up to it. The one drawback to success in his particular linewas that he would insist on being a gentleman. Fatal complaint to anyone who wants to go to the bad. "

"Have you any idea what became of my brother?"

"Not in the least. He knocked about with me for about a year, till hesuddenly discovered he was living on me. Not that I minded; I had potsof money--it's been my curse. Never had to do a day's work in my life. He pulled up short at that, pawned his watch, and refused to takeanother crust of bread, and left me without a penny in his pocket. Ionly heard once of him afterwards. He wrote to enclose a five-poundnote. "

"Have you got his letter? Can you remember where he wrote from?" askedRoger excitedly. 

"I don't believe there was a letter. The note was wrapped up in an oldplay-bill of some strolling company of actors. I remember it now, "added Fastnet, laughing and re-lighting his cigar. "Yes, it was_Hamlet_. Rogers was cast for the ghost in one act, Polonius inanother, and the grave-digger in another. I remember how I roared whenI read it. Fancy that fellow as Polonius!"

"Can't you remember the town?"

"Not a ghost of an idea. Some little village in the Midlands probably, where _Hamlet_ would be appreciated. I remember, by the way, the bill--pity I didn't keep it--mentioned that this enterprising company wasgoing to give a performance in Boulogne, of all places. It occurred tome it would be a source of great consolation to our fellow-countrymen inthat dismal colony to witness Jack Rogers in the ghost for one nightonly. "

"That would be eighteen or nineteen years ago, " said Roger, with a sighat the hopelessness of his quest. "You have heard nothing since?"

"Not a syllable. Have some more sherry?"

Roger reached his hotel that night in more than mental distress. Thefatigue and anxiety of the last few days had had their inevitable resulton his health, and though the penalty had been postponed, it was comingto account at last. 

When his worthy guardian returned on the following day, he was muchshocked to find his ward really ill. He did his best. He tried toinduce the patient to make an effort to "shake off" his ailments. Hesat up late in his room at night, talking and attempting to amuse him. He even purchased a few amateur specifics; and finally, when the boy wasas ill as ill could be, called in a pettifogging practitioner, who mightbe trusted to bungle the case. 

"Regular bad case, " said that learned gentleman, after the third orfourth visit. "May last a week with care. "

The good captain naturally grew concerned. Matters seemed to beprogressing beyond even his expectations. The practitioner's verdictspeedily got wind in the hotel. Visitors came anxiously to inquireafter the young gentleman's condition, and urged a second opinion. Andone or two were inconsiderate enough to suggest that the patient was nothaving fair play. 

Under these distressing circumstances, Captain Oliphant decided to writea line to Dr Brandram. 

"Roger has unfortunately taken a chill. Will you kindly forward me theprescription which benefited him so much last summer, as I am naturallyanxious to omit no precaution for the dear fellow's good. He is beingwell cared for, and will, I trust, be all right in a day or two. "

Dr Brandram's reply to this transparent communication was to order hisdogcart and take the first train to London. Before starting, he hadtime to send a telegram to Armstrong to meet him at the hotel the sameevening. 

Little dreaming of the effect of his message, Captain Oliphant wasspending a resigned afternoon in the sick-room. Fate was working on hisside once more. Mr Ratman had apparently vanished into space. MrArmstrong was out of the way. The practitioner's face had been longerthan ever when he took his leave a few hours ago. The difficulties anddisappointments of the past few months were giving way to betterprospects. The good man's conscience accused him of no actual injury tohis ward. On the contrary, he could honestly say he had devoted time, money, personal fatigue, to tending him. He had secured him medicalattendance, he had advised the family doctor of his indisposition. Hehad sat up with him day and night. Was it his fault if the illness tooka bad turn, and the Maxfield property changed its owner? He should liketo meet the man who could lay anything at his door. 

Roger turned on his pillow and began to wander--

"Tell him I believe it. I'll go and find the grave-digger. AskFastnet, and Compton, and all of them. No more sherry, thanks. Yes, sir, I said you were no gentleman. I repeat it. You have no right tomention her name. Shut the door, Rosalind. There's only eleven monthsto do it in. He is waiting at the General Post Office. Armstrong hasgone away. They expelled him from the club. "

"Poor fellow, " sighed the captain, as he smoothed the sufferer's pillow;"poor fellow! How absurdly he talks. "

So engrossed was he in his ministrations that he failed to perceive thedoor behind him softly open and a gentleman enter. 

Mr Armstrong had outstripped the doctor in the race to town. Without aword the tutor walked to the bed and bent over the troubled form of hispupil. Then with face almost as white as that of his enemy, he turned. 

"What brings you here?" gasped the captain. 

"How long has he been like this?" demanded the tutor. 

"Do you hear my question?"

"Do you hear mine?"

The weaker man capitulated, with a malediction, to the stronger. 

"Since yesterday. He is being carefully tended. "

"By whom--you alone?"

"By a doctor. "

"What doctor?"

"When I know your right to catechise me, I will answer, " snarled thecaptain. 

Mr Armstrong rang the bell. 

"Light the fire here at once, " said he to the maid, "and then send themessenger up. "

In the interval the two men stood eyeing one another, while the patientfrom time to time tossed on his pillow and muttered to himself. 

Mr Armstrong hurriedly scrawled two notes. 

"Take a cab, and leave this note at --- Hospital. Let the nurse I haveasked for come back in the cab at once. Then go on with this note toSir William Dove, and bring word from him the earliest moment he can behere. Don't lose an instant. "

"Captain Oliphant, " said he, as soon as the messenger had gone, "threeis too many for this room. I am here to relieve guard. You need rest. Dr Brandram will be here any moment. Bring him up directly he comes. "

Captain Oliphant was certainly deserving of a little sympathy. He hadborne the burden and heat of the day, and now another was entering intohis labour. But the tutor's tone had an ugly ring about it, which, forthe moment, cowed the injured gentleman, and constrained him, afterglowering for a moment or two, and trying to articulate a protest, meekly to withdraw. 

"My responsibility ends where yours begins, " said he, with his bestsneer. "I grudge none of the trouble I have taken for the dear boy, butI must decline to remain here as the assistant of Signor Francisco themusic-hall cad. "

"I can imagine it might be painful, " said Mr Armstrong drily; "but theimmediate thing to be desired is that you should not consume the oxygenin this room. Explanations will do later. "

Captain Oliphant was not at hand that evening to meet the doctors. Abusiness engagement had summoned him to Maxfield, where he rejoiced thehearts of his two children by a sudden arrival at breakfast-time. 

A curt note from Armstrong the same afternoon apprised him that hismovements had been anticipated. 

"Doctors not without hope. Admirable nurse secured. Brandram and Iremain here. "

Captain Oliphant derived scant consolation from this announcement, andquite forgot his business engagement in his mortification and illtemper. He dropped in during the day to see Mr Pottinger, to discusshis grievance with that legal luminary. But Mr Pottinger, as thereader is aware, had complications of another kind to disclose. Heastonished his visitor with an account of the surprise visit of MrRatman a few days previously, and of that gentleman's astounding claimsto the name of Ingleton. 

"What!" exclaimed the captain, "you mean to say that scoundrel actuallyclaimed to be the lost son? I always had a high opinion of hisimpudence, but I never imagined it capable of that. Why, my dear sir, Ihave known him as a pettifogging money-lender in India for years. "

"Quite so; but did you know why and when he came to India?"

"I can't say I did. Surely you don't credit his story?"

"Well, not exactly. But it strikes me the gentleman will give us somedifficulty. "

"Why? What good can it do him even if he is what he claims! He cannotupset the will, which emphatically cuts him out of every possibility ofbenefit. "

"No; that leaves him no loophole, certainly. But he may calculate onworking on the chivalry of his younger brother, or if that fails, onblackmailing him. "

"If so, he will have us to deal with. For once in a way Armstrong and Iare likely to be of the same opinion. Surely there is evidence enoughto prosecute for conspiracy. "

"Hardly. He claims nothing but the name. He admits he has no rights. My opinion, Captain Oliphant, is that we have not heard the end of him. "

"Very likely not, especially as I unluckily owe him money. "

"That is awkward. The sooner you square accounts and get rid of him thebetter. "

"Easier said than done, " remarked the captain, and returned with adecided headache to Maxfield. 

Roger, with Armstrong to nurse him, with Dr Brandram to attend him, with his own strong bias towards life to buoy him up, emerged slowlyfrom the valley of the shadow of death, and in due time stood once moreon his feet. Weeks before that happened he had told and heard all thatwas to be said about his lost brother. Dr Brandram had recounted theincident at Miss Jill's party, and he in turn had confided to his tutorhis meeting with Fastnet, and the feeble clue in which that conferencehad resulted. 

"Armstrong, old fellow, " said he one day at the close of the year, "won't you help me in this? I know you hate the business, and think mea fool for my pains. I must do it, with you or without you, and wouldsooner do it with you. In ten months it will be too late. "

"I hate the business, as you say, but you may count on me; only don'task me to hail Mr Ratman as Squire of Maxfield, or subscribe a penny tohis maintenance, a day before his claim is proved. "

"You are a brick; I was a cad ever to doubt it. Let us start next weekfor Boulogne. "

"Quite so, " said the tutor, screwing his glass viciously into his eye;"let us go to Boulogne by all means. "

CHAPTER TWENTY. 

THE GHOST OF HAMLET. 

It is possible to conceive of a more hopeful task than hunting up anddown a large French town for tidings of a strolling player who, for onenight only, played the ghost in _Hamlet_ twenty years ago. But Roger, as, early in the year, he stepped ashore at Boulogne with Armstrong athis side, felt sanguine and of good cheer. 

His recovery had been slow, and not without interruption. As soon as hecould be moved he had returned to Maxfield, only to find Rosalind stillaway, and his guardian obdurate to any suggestion for expediting herreturn. 

As to the proposed journey to Boulogne, the gallant captain looked uponthat as a symptom of serious mental exhaustion on the part of theinvalid. Roger, however, was in a mood impervious to argument. 

When the time actually came, the captain surprised every one by givingin more readily than any one had expected. The truth was, Mr Ratman, though lost to sight, contrived to make himself very dear to hisdebtor's memory, and already a legal document had reached Maxfielddemanding the payment in full of a certain bill within a certain date onpain of certain consequences. And Captain Oliphant felt it would bedistinctly convenient, for a while, to be relieved of the presence bothof his co-trustee and his ward. He felt himself quite competent to dealwith the trust moneys which were shortly about to come in withoutassistance. 

When, therefore, Roger with some hesitation returned to the charge, hesaid, somewhat severely--

"You are old enough to decide for yourself, my boy. You know my view ofthe matter. I conclude you are not going alone?"

"No; Armstrong is coming. "

"Naturally. I wish you joy. On your return I shall be happy to resumemy responsibility for your welfare. I cannot profess to feel oppressedby it in your absence. "

This was enough. True, the captain contrived to get in a parting shotby announcing that Rosalind was likely to return shortly to Maxfield. But even that did not suffice to change the lad's purpose. 

"Don't be very long away, " said Jill to Mr Armstrong. "You are alwaysgoing and leaving us. Rosalind will be very, very sorry to find you areaway. She likes you--she told me so; but she doesn't like you half asmuch as I do. "

The tutor flushed uncomfortably. 

"Oh, " said Tom, "you're always spoons on somebody, Jill. I heard youtell that Duke chap you liked him better than anybody in the world. "

"O Tom! how dare you tell such a wicked falsehood? I told him I likedhim _nearly_ as much as Mr Armstrong, but not quite. Really I did, MrArmstrong. "

"I am very jealous of the Duke, " said Mr Armstrong gravely. 

Once across the Channel, Roger's spirits rose. He had a presentiment hewas on the right track. Like a knight of old, set down to a desperatetask, the fighting blood rose joyously within him. Whatever it cost, whoever deserted him, whoever opposed him, he would find his brother, and give to him his own. 

For days they went hither and thither, inquiring at cafes, theatres, cabarets, custom-houses, police stations, and even cemeteries, withoutsuccess. Most of the persons accosted laughed and shrugged theirshoulders to be asked if they remembered the visit of strolling playersto the town as far back as twenty years. Others bridled upsuspiciously, as if the question were a preliminary to their detectionin some old evil deed. Others utterly failed to comprehend thequestion; and a few pityingly tapped their own foreheads, and shooktheir heads at the two half-witted English holiday-makers. But no onecould tell a word about Rogers. 

A fortnight passed, and the thoughts of both, dispirited and worn, turned homeward. Rosalind, a letter had informed them, was back atMaxfield. 

Of the two, perhaps Mr Armstrong displayed less disposition to ownhimself beaten. He had worked like a horse all the time. Roger hadbeen compelled to own that without him his mission would have been afeeble farce. Not a stone did the dogged tutor leave unturned. Not adifficulty did he shirk. Not a man or woman, however forbidding, did hehesitate to tackle, who in the remotest degree might be suspected ofbeing likely to give information. Now that it came to giving in, hehung back, reluctant to dip his colours. 

"To-day's Thursday, " said he. "Let's give ourselves till Saturday. Ifnothing turns up by then, I am your man to slink home. "

Roger, a little ashamed to find the first last and the last first in therace after all, readily assented. And the two worked unflagging for twodays longer. 

Friday evening came, and the two sat dismally down to _table d'hote_with defeat staring them in the face. They said very little, but eachknew the mortification in the other's breast. 

At last, when the meal was over, Mr Armstrong said--

"I suppose we had better go and get our tickets. "

"I suppose so. "

But the _bureau_ was closed for the night, and the two took a solitarywalk along the beach. They walked on further than usual in the clearmoonlight, till at last the tutor looked at his watch. 

"It's nine o'clock, " said he; "we must go back. "

"Let's take the country road back. "

"It is a mile longer. "

"Never mind. It is our last night. "

So they struck up by the cliffs, and followed the chalky country roadback to Boulogne. 

About two miles from the town the cheery lights of a wayside _auberge_attracted their attention. 

"Let us get some coffee here, " said Armstrong. 

This solitary tavern rejoiced in the name of "Cafe d'Angleterre, " but ifits owner expected thereby to attract the custom of Mr John Bull, hewas singularly mistaken. The chief customers of the place werelabourers and navvies, who by their noisy jargon were evidently innocentof all pretensions to a foreign tongue. 

Seeing two strangers, presumably able to pay ready money for what theyconsumed, the old landlord invited his visitors into the bar parlour, where at his own table he set before them that delightful concoction ofchicory and sifted earth which certain provincial Frenchmen call _cafe_. And being a gregarious and inquisitive old man, and withal proud of histolerable stock of English, he took the liberty of joining them. 

"Inglese?" inquired he, with a pantomimic shrug. 

"Quite so, " said the tutor, putting up his glass, and inspecting thefellow carefully. 

"This is the `Cafe d'Angleterre, '" said the landlord, "but, _helas_! itis long since the Inglese gentleman come here. They like too well thegreat town. "

"Ah, Boulogne has grown. Can you remember the place twenty years ago?"

"Can I? I can remember forty years. "

"I wonder, " broke in Roger, too impatient to allow his tutor to lead upgradually to the inevitable question, "if you can remember some Englishplayers coming over here about eighteen years ago and acting a playcalled _Hamlet_ in English. "

The landlord blew a cloud of smoke from his lips, and stared round atthe speaker as if he had been a ghost. 

"Why do you ask me that? _'Amlet_! Can I forget it?"

Here was a bolt out of the blue! The tutor's eye-glass dropped with aclatter against his cup, and Roger fetched a breath half gasp, halfsigh. 

"You remember it!" exclaimed he, seizing the man's hand; "do you know, we have been a fortnight in Boulogne trying to find some one who did!"

"Would not _you_ remember it, " replied the Frenchman, with agesticulation, "if 'Amlet had put up at your inn and gone away withoutpaying his bill?"

"Did one of the actors stay here, then?"

"One? There was twenty 'Amlets, and Miladi 'Amlets, and Mademoiselle'Amlets. They all stay here, _en famille_. The house is full of'Amlets. The stable is full. They bring with them a castle of 'Amlet, and a grave of 'Amlet. My poor house was all 'Amlet!"

"And, " inquired Mr Armstrong, flushed with the sudden discovery, but ascool as ever, "you had a pass to see the play, of course?"

"_Mon dieu_! it was all the pay I got. 'Amlet come to my house with histwenty hungry mouth, and eat me up, flesh and bone. He sleep in mybeds, he sleep on my roof, he sleep in my stable. The place is'Amlet's. And all my pay is one piece of card bidding me see him playhimself. "

"And was it well played?" Asked Mr Armstrong. 

"Well played? How do I know? But six persons came to see it--I one--and in six minutes it is all done. Your English 'Amlet will not play tothe empty bench. He call down the curtain, and bid us go where weplease. Not even will he pay us back our money. Then, when he come toleave the hall himself, _voila_, he has no money to pay his rent. Hisbaggage is seized, and 'Amlet fights. _Mon dieu_, there was _uneemeute_ in Boulogne that night; and before day 'Amlet has vanish likehis own ghost, and I am a robbed man; _voila_. "

"Very rough on you, " said the tutor. "So there was a ghost among theplayers?"

"Why no? It would not be _'Amlet_ without. "

"Did the ghost stay here too?"

"_Helas_! yes. He eat, and drink, and sleep, and forgets to pay, likethe rest. "

"What did you lose by him?" asked Roger, with parched lips. 

"Ah, monsieur, I was a Napoleon poorer for every 'Amlet in my house thatnight. "

Roger put down two sovereigns on the table. 

"That is to pay for the ghost, " said he, flushing. "He was my brother. "

The landlord stared in blank amazement. 

"Your brother! Monsieur le Ghost of _'Amlet_ was--_pardieu_!" exclaimedhe, looking hard at his guest, "and he was like you. It was no fault ofhis _'Amlet_ did not take the favour, for he play in the first act andmake us all laugh. If the other 'Amlets had been so amusing as him, thehouse would have been full--packed. Ha! now you say it, he was agentleman, this poor Monsieur le Ghost. He held himself apart from thenoisy company, and sulk in a corner, while they laugh, and drink, andsing the song. They were afraid of him, and, _mon dieu_! they mightbe--for once, when Monsieur Rosencrantz, as I remember, came and threwsome absinthe--my absinthe, messieurs--in his face, Monsieur le Ghost heknocked him down with a blow that sounded--oh, like a clap of thethunder. And this pauvre ghost, " added the man, "was monsieur'sbrother! _Helas_! he was come down very poor--his coat was rags, andhis boots were open to the water of heaven. He eat little. Ah, monsieur, I have deceived you. He cost me not five franc; for, when Iremember, he ate nothings--he starve himself. "

"Was he ill?" asked Armstrong. 

"Worse, " said the landlord, lowering his voice; "he was in love. Icould see it. She laugh and make the mock at him, and play coquet withthe others before his face. It nearly killed him--this pauvre ghost. He would have give his hand for a kind glance, but he got it never. "

"Who was the girl?" asked Roger. 

"But a child, the minx--fifteen, perhaps sixteen, years, no more. Sheplayed the part of a page-boy, and only so because monsieur, her father, was manage the play. He was Frenchman, this monsieur, but mademoisellewas English like her mother. _Helas_! monsieur, your brother was deepin love. But there was no hope for him. A fool could see that. "

This was all the host could tell them. He had never heard since of anymember of the ill-fated company. He could introduce them to no one whoremembered their visit. A few there might be who when appealed to mighthave recalled the disturbance on the night of the performance, and theabsconding of the players. But who they were and what became of them noone could say. 

On their return to the hotel at Boulogne at midnight they found atelegram and a letter awaiting them. 

The former was from Dr Brandram to Mr Armstrong--

 "Come at once. "

The letter was a missive addressed to Roger at Maxfield from London, andforwarded back to Boulogne. It was from Mr Fastnet. 

 "Dear Ingleton, --Oddly enough I stumbled yesterday across the very piece of paper I spoke to you of. Here it is for what it was worth. "

Roger eagerly opened the yellow sheet. It announced a performance of_Hamlet_ at Folkestone by a celebrated company of stars under thedirection of a Monsieur Callot. Among the actors was a Mr John Rogers, who took the part of the ghost in the first act. Further down wasmentioned a Miss Callot, who acted the part of a page. And the billannounced that after the performance in Folkestone the company wouldperform for two nights only in Boulogne. More important, however, thanany other particular was a footnote that Monsieur Callot was "happy toreceive pupils for instruction in the dramatic art at his address, 2Long Street, London, W. Terms moderate. Singing and dancing taught byMadame Callot. "

Here at last seemed a clue. The pulses of the two friends quickened asthey read and re-read the time-worn document. 

"The boat sails in two hours, " said Mr Armstrong, "I must leave you intown. Brandram would not telegraph for me like this unless he meantit. "

"I suppose it means my bro-- Ratman, has turned up again. If so, Armstrong--"

"Well?" inquired the tutor, digging his glass deep into his eye. 

Roger said nothing. 

On the following afternoon Mr Armstrong had a pleasant game ofAssociation football with Tom on the Maxfield lawn, and Miss Jill, whovolunteered as umpire, gave every point in favour of the tutor. 

Just about the time when he kicked his final goal, Roger Ingleton, minor, in London arrived at the dreary conclusion, after an hour'spainful study of directories and maps, that there was no such street asLong Street, London, W. 

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. 

SHARKS BY LAND AND WATER. 

Mr Brandram's abrupt summons to Mr Armstrong was not due to thereappearance on the scene of the mysterious Robert Ratman. It was, infact, at the instance of Miss Rosalind Oliphant that the doctor sent hismessage. 

That young lady had returned a week ago to find everything at Maxfieldawry. Her father was gloomy, mysterious, and haggard. The rumour ofMr Ratman's extraordinary claims had become the common property of thevillage. Roger and his tutor were away, no one exactly knew where or onwhat errand. 

On the day following her return she walked across from the Vicarage tovisit her father. 

He sat in the library, abstracted, pale, and limp. The jaunty, Anglo-Indian veneer had for the time being dropped off, unmasking the worriedexterior of a chicken-hearted man. 

At the sight of his daughter he pulled himself together, and crushed inhis hand the letter which he had been reading. 

"Why, my child, " said he, with unusual cordiality, "this is a pleasantapparition. Cruel girl, to desert us for so long. We have hardlyexisted without you, Roger and his tutor are away in France holiday-making, while I remain here on duty with no one to cheer me up. "

"Dear father, " said Rosalind, kissing him, "how worried you look! Whatis the matter? Won't you tell me?"

The father's eyes dwelt for a moment on her fair earnest face--so likeher mother's, so unlike a daughter of his--then they fell miserably. 

"Worried?" said he. "Do I show it as plainly as all that? I flatteredmyself I kept it to myself. "

"Any one can see you are unhappy, father. Why?"

"I am in difficulties, my child, which you could not understand. "

"I could. Do tell me. "

"The fact is, " said the captain, taking up his pen and dotting theblotting-pad as he spoke, "that when on former occasions I have tried toclaim your sympathy I--well, I was not quite successful. I do not wantthe pain of a similar failure again. "

"I would do anything, anything to help you, if I could!"

He took her hand and held it in his. 

"I am in great straits, " said he. "An old Indian debt has followed mehere. I cannot meet it, and ruin stares me in the face. You know I ama poor man; that I am living on other people--you have reminded me ofthat often enough; that of all the money which passes my hands, scarcelyenough to live on belongs by right to me. You know all that?"

"Yes; I know that we are poor. How much do you owe?" she asked. 

"I cannot say. Not long ago it was some hundreds, but by this time itis nearer thousands. Nothing grows so rapidly as a debt, my child--even, " added he, with an unctuous drop of his voice, "a debt of honour. "

"And will not your creditor wait?"

"My creditor has waited, but refuses to do so any longer. In a monthfrom now, my child, your father and those he loves best will bepaupers. "

"Is there no way of meeting it? None whatever?"

"I cannot pay; I shrink from borrowing. The trust funds in my chargeare sacred--"

"Of course!" said she, astonished that he should name them in such aconnection. "Is there nothing else?"

"My creditor is Robert Ratman--or as he calls himself, and possibly is, Roger Ingleton. As you know, he claims to be the elder brother of ourRoger, and I--"

"Yes, yes, " said she; "Roger told me about that. He is your creditor?"

"He is. I got into his clutches in India, little guessing who he was, and he is crushing me now. There is but one way, and one only, ofescaping him--and that way is, I fear, impossible, Rosalind. "

"What is it?" said she, with pale face, knowing what was to come. 

"He loves you. As my son-in-law he would be no longer my creditor. "

She drew away her hand with a shudder. 

"Father, " said she, in a dry hard voice which startled him, "do youreally mean this?"

"Is it a time for jesting?" said he. "I ask nothing of you. I merelystate facts. You dislike him--there is an end of it. Only remember weare not now dealing with Robert Ratman, but with an injured man who hasnot had a fair chance. The good in him, " continued the father, deludedby the passive look on his daughter's face, and becoming suddenly warmin his championship of the absent creditor, "has been smothered; but foraught we know it may still be there. A wife--"

She stopped him with a peremptory motion of her hand. 

"Please do not say anything more. Your debt--when does it fall due?"

"In a week or ten days, my child. Consider--"

She interrupted again. 

"No more, please, " she said, almost imploringly. "I will think what canbe done to help you in a week. Good-bye, dear father. "

She stooped, with face as white as marble, and touched his forehead withher cold lips. 

"Loyal girl, " said the father, when the door had closed behind her; "shewill stand by me yet. After all, Ratman has his good points--clever, cheerful, good man of business--"

Here abruptly the soliloquy ended, and Captain Oliphant buried his facein his hands, a miserable man. 

To Rosalind, as she walked rapidly across the park, there came but onethought. Her father--how could she help him? how could she save him, not so much from his debts as from the depths into which they wereplunging him?

"My poor father, " said she. "Only a man in desperate plight could thinkof such a remedy. He never meant it. He does not really suppose--no, no; he said he did not ask anything. He told me because I asked. Poordarling father!"

And with something very like a sob she hurried on to Yeld. 

She went straight to Dr Brandram's. 

"Well, my dear young lady, it does one good to see you back, " said he;"but bless me, how pale you look. "

"Do I? I'm quite well, thank you. Dr Brandram, " said she, "do youknow anything about this Mr Ratman?"

The Doctor stared at this abrupt inquiry. 

"Nothing more than you and every one else does--that he is a rankimpostor!"

"I don't mean that. I mean, where is he? I want to see him very much. "

"You want to see him? He has vanished, and left no track. Is itnothing I can help you in?"

"No, " said she, looking very miserable. "I hoped you could have told mewhere to find him. Good-bye, and thank you. "

She departed, leaving the doctor sorely disturbed and bewildered. Hestood watching her slight figure till it disappeared in the Vicaragegarden, and then shrugging his shoulders, said, "Something wrong, somewhere. Evidently not a case for me to be trusted with. It's abouttime Armstrong came home. "

Whereupon he walked over to the post office and dispatched the telegramwhich, as the reader knows, procured Tom Oliphant the unspeakablepleasure of a game of football on the following afternoon. 

"Well, " said the tutor to his friend in the doctor's parlour thatevening, "what's all this about?"

"That's what I'm not likely to know myself, " said the doctor; and henarrated the circumstances of Miss Oliphant's mysterious call. 

"Humph!" said the tutor. "She wants to see him in his capacity ofRobert Ratman, evidently, and not of Roger Ingleton, major. "

"So it seemed to me. "

"And you say she had just come from visiting her father at Maxfield?"

"Yes. "

"On the principle that two and two make four, I suppose we may concludethat my co-trustee is on toast at present, " said the tutor. 

"And further, that that co-trustee being somebody's father, you are theman to get him off it. "

The tutor's face clouded, and his glass dropped with a twang from hiseye. 

"Don't make that mistake again, Brandram--unless, " and here his lipsrelaxed into a quiet smile, "you mean by somebody, Miss Jill. "

Dr Brandram read a good deal in this short sentence, and, like a goodfriend, let the subject drop. 

"As Tom has gone to the Rectory to dinner, " said the tutor, "I take itthe neighbourhood for twenty miles round will know of my return by thistime. Meanwhile I must go back and possibly find out some thing fromOliphant himself. "

Captain Oliphant, however, was in no mood for confidences. The suddenreturn of his co-trustee was extremely unwelcome at this juncture--indeed so manifestly unwelcome that Mr Armstrong was convinced he hadcome back not a day too soon. 

The captain professed great annoyance and indignation at what he termedthe desertion of his ward, and demanded to know when the tutor proposedto return to his duties. 

"In fact, sir, " said he, "I desire to know what brings you here in thisuncalled-for manner. "

"Business, my dear sir, " replied the tutor. "It need not incommodeyou. "

"Your proper place is with your pupil. Where have you left him?"

"In London, prosecuting a search which neither you nor I consider to bevery hopeful. I should not be surprised to see him back any day. "

"And may I ask the nature of the very pressing business which forms thepretext of this abrupt return? Am I to understand you and my ward havequarrelled?"

"No, sir; we are excellent friends. It's getting late; I'll say goodnight. "

"By the way, " said he at the door, "while I am here, there are a fewsmall matters connected with the accounts which seemed to my unpractisedeye, when I went through Pottinger's books, to require some littleelucidation. If you have an hour or so to spare to-morrow, I shouldlike to go through them with you. Good night. "

He did not stay to notice the sudden pallor of his colleague's face, nordid he overhear the gasp which greeted the closing of the door. 

The captain did not go to bed that night. For an hour he sat motionlessin his chair, staring blankly into the fire; then, with a sudden accessof industry, he went to the safe, and producing account-books, bankbooks, cheques, and other documents, spent some troubled hours overtheir contents. That done, for another hour he paced the floor, dismally smoking a cigar. Finally, when the early March dawn filteredthrough the blinds, he quitted the house, and surprised Mr Pottinger byan unexpected visit at breakfast-time. Thence he proceeded to the bank;and after transacting his business there, returned easier in mind, butexhausted in body, to the seclusion of his room at Maxfield. 

The tutor meanwhile was abroad on horseback with Tom and Jill. Thethree took a scamper over the downs, and returned by way of the shore. Biding with Tom and Jill, as may be imagined, was a series ofcompetitive exercises, rather than a straightforward promenade. Tom wasan excellent rough horseman; and Jill, when Mr Armstrong was at hand, was not the young lady to stick at anything. They had tried handicaps, water-jumps, hurdles, and were about to start for a ding-dong gallopalong the mile of hard strand which divided them from Maxfield, when thetutor's eye detected, perched a little way up the cliff, the figure of ayoung lady sketching. 

"I'll start you two, " said he, "I scratch for this race. Ride fair, Tom; and Jill, give the mare her head when you get past the boulders. Ishall go back by the downs. Are you ready now? Pull in a bit, Tom. Now--off you go!"

Not waiting to watch the issue of this momentous contest, he turned towhere Rosalind sat, and reining up at the foot of her perch, dismounted. 

She came down to meet him, palette in hand. 

"Mr Armstrong, I am so glad to see you. I want to speak to youdreadfully. Are you in a great hurry?"

"Not at all. Brandram told me you were in trouble, and I was wonderingwhen and where I should have the opportunity of asking how I can helpyou. "

He tied his horse to a stake, and helped her back to her seat on thecliff. 

There was an awkward pause, which he occupied by examining her picturewith a critical air. 

"Do you like it?" said she. 

"I don't know. I'm no great judge. Do you?"

"I did, before you came. I'm not so sure now. Do sit down and let mesay what I want to say. "

The tutor, with a flutter at his breast, sat meekly, keeping his eyesstill on the picture. 

"Mr Armstrong, it's about Mr Ratman. "

"So Brandram said. What of him?"

Rosalind told her father's story, except that she omitted any referenceto the desperate proposition for satisfying his claims. 

"I am sure it is a fraud, or blackmail, or something of the sort. Forall that, he threatens to ruin father. "

"What does the debt amount to?"

"Father spoke of thousands. "

"Does the creditor offer no terms?"

Rosalind flushed, and looked round. 

"None; that is, none that can be thought of for a moment. "

"I understand, " said the tutor, to whom the reservation was explicitenough. 

"The difficulty is, that he has disappeared. If we could find him Iwould--"

"You would allow me to go to him, " said the tutor. "No doubt theopportunity will soon come. He wants money; he is bound to turn up. "

"But why should you be mixed up in father's troubles?" asked Rosalindafter a pause. 

"Your father's troubles are yours; your troubles are--shall we say?--Roger's; Roger's troubles are mine. "

There was another long silence, during which Rosalind took up herbrushes and began work again on the picture, Mr Armstrong criticallylooking on. 

"Have you no troubles of your own, then, that you have so much room inyou for those of other people?" she said at last. 

"I have had my share, perhaps. Your picture, with its wide expanse ofcalm sea, was just reminding me of one of them. "

"Tell me about it. "

"It was years ago, when, before I was a singer in London-- You knew Ifollowed that honourable vocation once, don't you?"

"I have heard father speak of it. Why not?"

"No reason at all. But before that I worked at the equally honourableprofession of a common sailor on a ship between New York and Ceylon. Atthat time I was about as wild and reckless as they make them, anddeluded myself into the foolish belief that I enjoyed it. How I hadcome to that pass I needn't tell you. It wasn't all of a sudden, orwithout the assistance of other people. I had a comrade on board--a manwho had once been a gentleman, but had come down in the world; who wasnearly as bad as I, but not quite; for he sometimes talked of his homeand his mother, and wished himself dead, which I never had the grace todo. "

"Are you making this all up for my benefit, " asked Rosalind, "or is ittrue?"

"The story would not be worth telling if it were not true, " said MrArmstrong, screwing his glass into his eye and taking a fresh survey ofthe picture. "One very hot summer we were becalmed off Colombo, and layfor days with nothing to do but whistle for a wind and quarrel amongourselves. My mate and I kept the peace for a couple of days, but thenwe fell out like the rest. I forget what it was about--a trifle, probably a word. We didn't fight on deck--it was too hot--but jumpedoverboard and fought in the water. I remember, as I plunged, I caughtsight, a hundred yards away, of an ugly grey fin lying motionless on thewater, and knew it belonged to a shark. But I didn't care. Well, wetwo fought in the water--partly in spite, partly to pass the time. Suddenly I could see my opponent's swarthy face become livid. `GoodGod!' he gasped; `a shark!' and quick as thought he caught me by theshoulders and pushed me between him and the brute. I heard it swish up, and saw it half turn with gaping jaws. In that moment I lived over mylife again, with all its folly and crime, and for the first time foryears I prayed. How it happened I cannot tell; the shark must eitherhave made a bad shot at me or else I must have ducked instinctively, forI remember feeling the scrape of his fin across my cheek and beingpushed aside by his great tail. Next moment my mate's hands let gotheir grip of me and there was a yell such as I pray I may never hearagain. When at last they hauled me on board I was not the same man whothree minutes before had dived into the water. That was the scene yourpicture reminded me of, Miss Oliphant. You have told me one of yourtroubles, and I have told you one of mine, which makes us quits. But myhorse is getting fidgety down there; I must look after him. Good-bye. "

Mr Armstrong was a little surprised, when he came to go through theaccounts with his co-trustee that afternoon, to find that he must havebeen mistaken in his previous supposition that they were not all correctand straightforward. Everything appeared quite plain and properlyaccounted for, and he agreed with the figures, rather abashed to feelthat, after all, he was not as acute a man of business as he hadflattered himself. Mr Pottinger and the captain rallied him about hisdeserted mares'-nest, and bored him with invitations to go through allthe items again, to give him a chance of proving them wrong. Hedeclined with thanks, and signed the balance with the best grace hecould summon. 

"Odd, " said he to himself, as he strode home after the interview;"either you must be very clever or I must be very stupid. I shouldgreatly like to know which it is. "

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. 

MR. RATMAN VISITS HIS PROPERTY. 

"Dear Armstrong, " wrote Roger from London about a week after the tutor'sreturn to Maxfield, "you will be surprised to hear I am just off toParis to look for a Mr Pantalzar. This is how it comes about. LongStreet does not exist, as I told you, nor any trace of the familyCallot. But old Directories are still available, and in one of these Ifound that fifteen years ago there was a Long Street, and that Number 2was then occupied by a person of the uncommon name I have mentioned. The name seemed too promising a one to be let drop; so I tracked it downto the year before last, when I found a Pantalzar was proprietor of acook-shop in Shoreditch. Of course, when I went to inquire, mygentleman had vanished. I'm sick of asking the interminable question, `Does So-and-so live here?' The present cook-man, however, rememberedthe queer name as that belonging to his predecessor, and informed methat, not having made the business pay over here, he had decamped twoyears ago without saying good-bye to his creditors, and announced hisintention of starting a _cafe_ in Paris. This, then, is my off-chance. Unless he has changed his name, I should be able to discover him inParis; and if he turns out to be the man who once lived at Number 2 LongStreet, he may be able to tell me something about the Callots; and theCallots, if by a miracle I can find them, may be able to tell mesomething about Rogers, the Ghost in _Hamlet_. I only wish you werecoming to back me up, but, from what you say, I would ever so muchrather you remained on the spot at Maxfield. I hope it will be possibleto help Oliphant out of his fix. Try. You'd better write to the _PosteRestante_ at Paris. Remember me at home. 

"Yours ever, --

"R. Ingleton. "

The tutor read this letter with a somewhat troubled countenance. Itproved to him that his ward was desperately in earnest in his uphillquest, and it filled him with some concern to feel that he himself wasnot, where he should have liked to be, at the boy's side. 

But to leave Maxfield at present seemed impossible. Rosalind claimedhis help on behalf of her father; and the possibility that any day MrRatman might turn up and court exposure decided the tutor to remainwhere he was. Another motive for this step was a haunting perplexity asto the hallucination under which he had apparently laboured with regardto the estate accounts. He never flattered himself he was aparticularly good man of business, but it puzzled him to explain why afew weeks ago there should have appeared to be discrepancies andirregularities to the tune of several hundred pounds, whereas noweverything was in startling apple-pie order. 

Much to Mr Pottinger's annoyance, he took to visiting the honestlawyer's office every other day, and spent hours in trying to discoverwhere it was he had made his great mistake. Mr Pottinger was unable torender him any assistance; and the captain, when once he referred to thesubject, only smiled pityingly and advised him to take a few lessons inthe elements of finance; which advice, to do him justice, the tutorhumbly proceeded to take. The result was to deepen his perplexity andcause him to regret that he had so compliantly countersigned an accountwhich, every time he studied it in the light of his new wisdom, appearedto bristle with problems. 

Faithful to her promise, at the end of a week Rosalind presented herselfat Maxfield. 

"Well, my child?" said the parent blandly, laying down his newspaper. 

"I said I would come and speak again about what you were saying theother day. Have you heard any more from your creditor?"

"Things remain, as far as he is concerned, in _statu quo_; and I am nonearer being able to satisfy him to-day than I was a week ago; unless, indeed--"

"All I have to say, " said Rosalind nervously, "is, that I would worklike a slave to help you, if I could. "

"Is that all?" asked the captain with falling face. 

"You know it is, father. You knew it a week ago. You knew I would evengo to this man and on my knees beg him to be merciful. "

Her father laughed dismally. 

"In other words, " said he, "you can do nothing. I do not complain; Iexpected nothing, and I have not been disappointed. I was foolish tothink such a thing possible; Heaven knows I have been punished for myfolly. "

She tried hard to keep back the tears, and rose to go. 

"Stay!" said he sternly; "I have a question to ask you. A week ago youseemed to hold a different mind to this. What has changed it?"

"No, " said she, "it was out of the question; you said so yourself. "

"I ask you, " repeated he sternly, and not heeding her protest, "what haschanged it? Have you taken counsel with any one on the subject? Haveyou spoken to any one of this wretched business?"

"Yes; I have spoken to Mr Armstrong. "

"Exactly. I thought as much. I understand. Leave me, Rosalind. "

"Father, you are wrong-- Oh, but you must hear me, " she said, as heraised his hand deprecatingly and took up his newspaper. "You must notmisunderstand. I told Mr Armstrong of your difficulties, and who yourcreditor was. I told him no more. My only object was to see if therewas any way to help you. "

"You mean to tell me, " said he, interrupting in an angry voice, "thatyou considered it consistent with your duty as a daughter to gossipabout my private affairs with a scoundrel who--"

"No, father, " she said. "Mr Armstrong is a gentleman--"

"Naturally _you_ say so. But enough of this. I forbid you, as I havealready done, to hold any communication with Mr Armstrong. Know that, of the two men, the man you affect to scorn is infinitely less a villainthan this smug hypocrite. Go!"

She made no reply, but went, choking with misery and a smarting sense ofinjustice. No longer was it easy to hug herself into the delusion thatthis was all a horrid dream. Her father stood on the brink of ruin, andshe could not help him. 

"If only, " said she, "it had been anything else! O God, pity my poorfather!"

The captain's thoughts were of a very different kind. He had clung tothe hope that Rosalind would after all solve his difficulties byundertaking the venture he had set before her. He had already inimagination soothed his own conscience and smoothed away all thedifficulties which beset the undertaking. 

"It might be for her good, after all, dear girl! She will reclaim him. A fortune lies before them; for Roger will be easily convinced, and willsurrender his claim to them. Ratman is too long-sighted not to see thatI can help him in the matter, and that on my own terms. We shall startfresh with a clear balance-sheet, and live in comfort. " Now, however, these bright hopes were dashed, and to the captain's mind he owed hisfailure, first and last, to Mr Frank Armstrong. Had he not come home, he said to himself, Rosalind would have yielded. 

With him still at Maxfield everything came to a dead lock. Ratman couldnot be propitiated, still less satisfied. The accounts would berestlessly scrutinised. 

Rosalind, and in less degree Tom and Jill, would be mutinous. Roger, athome or abroad, would be beyond reach. 

All the grudges of the past months seemed to culminate in this crowninginjury; and if to wish ill to one's fellow is to be a murderer, CaptainOliphant had already come perilously near to adding one new sin to hisrecord. 

But where, all this while, was the ingenuous Mr Ratman? Why had henot, true to his word, come to claim his own--if not the Maxfieldestate, at any rate the little balance due to him from his old Indiancrony?

The captain, after a week or two of disappointed dread, was beginning torecover a little of his ease of mind, and flattering himself that, afterall his creditor's bark was worse than his bite, when the blow abruptlyfell. 

Mr Armstrong had gone for the day to visit one of his very few oldcollege friends on the other side of the county, and Tom, released fromhis lessons (the captain's animosity for the tutor, by the way, stoppedshort at withdrawing his son from the benefit of the gratuitouseducation of which for the last year that youth had been the recipient)was trundling a "boneshaker" bicycle along the Yeld lanes, when heperceived the jaunty form of Mr Ratman, bag in hand and cigar in mouth, strolling leisurely in the direction of Maxfield. 

Tom, who was only a beginner in the art of cycling, was so taken abackby this apparition, that, after one or two furious lurches from one sideof the road to the other, and a frantic effort to keep his balance, hecame ignominiously to the ground at the very feet of the visitor. 

"Hullo!" said that worthy; "as full of fun as ever, I see. "

"Hullo, Ratty!" said Tom, picking himself up; "got over your kicking?"

This genial reference to the circumstances under which the so-calledlost heir had last quitted Maxfield grated somewhat harshly on thefeelings of the gentleman to whom it was addressed. 

"Look here, young fellow, " said he, "you'd better keep a civil tongue inyour head, or I shall have to pull your ear. "

"Try it, " retorted Tom. 

Mr Ratman seemed inclined to accept the invitation; but as he wasanxious for information just now, he decided to forego the experiment. 

"Is your father at home?" he demanded. 

"Rather. You'd better go back the way you came. We know all about youup there, " said Tom. 

"That's all right. And how are your pretty sisters, Tommy?"

If any insult more than another could disturb the temper of MasterOliphant, it was to be called "Tommy, " as many of the rustic youths ofthe neighbourhood knew to their cost. He therefore replied shortly, "Find out, " and proceeded to address himself to the task of remountinghis machine. 

"That's what I'm going to do. Here, let me hold it for you, or you'llbreak your neck. "

"Look here, " said the outraged Tom, thoroughly roused by this crowningindignity, "I don't want to be seen out here talking to cads. I don'tmind fighting you. If you don't care for that, keep your cheek toyourself, and go and talk to somebody who's fond of rot. I'm not. " Andthe young bruiser, who had an uncommonly broad pair of shoulders, lookedso threatening that Mr Ratman began to feel a little concerned. 

"Ha, ha!" said he, "how well you do it! I always liked you, Tommy, myboy. I'll let your tutor know what a credit you are to him. "

"I wish to goodness Armstrong was at home, " growled Tom; "he'd make yousit up. "

This was just the information Mr Ratman had been anxious to get. Theprospect of encountering Mr Armstrong had interfered considerably withhis pleasure in arranging this visit. But if he was out of the way--well, so much more the luck of Mr Ratman. Therefore, without wastingtime in further parley with this possible brother-in-law, he proceededjauntily on his way. 

"You won't fight, then?" said Tom by way of farewell. 

"Some day. "

"All right. Coward! Good-bye, Mr Roger Ingleton, major!"

Having relieved himself of which appropriate sentiment, Tom feltdecidedly better, and walked his bicycle down the hill, determined tokeep clear of Maxfield till the evening. 

Mr Ratman, somewhat ruffled, but on the whole cheerful, swaggered on tohis destination. 

The captain was luxuriously smoking a cigar and solacing himself with asporting paper, when Raffles sent his heart to his mouth by announcing--

"Mr Ingleton, sir, to see you. "

"Ah, Ratman!" said he with a forced air of welcome as his creditorentered. "I didn't recognise you by your new name. You're keeping itup, then?"

"What do you mean?" demanded Mr Ratman, taking an easy-chair andhelping himself to a cigar from the captain's box. "It's you who arekeeping it up, I fancy. I'll trouble you to drop the Ratman. "

The captain laughed unpleasantly. 

"As you like, " said he. 

"Now to business. Of course, you're ready to make good these littlebills, " and he pulled four or five blue slips from his pocket. 

"No, I'm not. You may as well know it at once. "

"Hum! What do you propose, then? Do you know there's a writ out?"

"I propose nothing. I want to know what you propose. "

The two men regarded one another in silence; one insolent and sneering, the other desperate and scowling. 

"What do I propose?" said Ratman, puffing away cheerfully. "Scarcelyanything--only to make a little communication to the War Office, give afew instructions to the Sheriff, write a paragraph or two to the countypapers, and tell a few interesting anecdotes to your charmingdaughters. "

Captain Oliphant started to his feet with a smothered exclamation. 

"Not the last, Ratman! I'm in your clutches; but for Heaven's sakedon't bring them into it!"

Ratman laughed. 

"You _will_ insist on forgetting my name, my dear fellow. Yes, that'smy little programme. I fancy I may as well begin at the end. "

"Look here, " pleaded the victim; "I know it's no use appealing to yourpity, for you have none; or your honesty, for you've less of that than Ihave. But doesn't it occur to you that it would be decidedly againstyour interest to ruin me just now?"

"What do you mean?" said Ratman with a yawn. 

"Why, you claim a certain name, and you have to prove your claim. Rogerhas got the romantic notion into his head that if his elder brother canbe found, that brother shall have the property. He is more than halfinclined to credit your story already. You have to satisfy two otherpersons, of whom I am one. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, " said Mr Ratman, who began to be interested. "I anticipateno difficulty there. "

"You forget that at present only a sickly boy stands between myself andthe property. It would surely mean something on my part for me to admita second life between. "

"What is the use of talking nonsense?" said Ratman. "Even if you did, for the sake of a little longer credit I might give you, own my right tomy own name, what's the use of that, when this man Armstrong has to besatisfied too? If you could crack that nut there might be something init. "

The captain groaned. He knew that every project would be pulled upshort at this sticking-point. 

"Come, " said Ratman encouragingly, "if you could work things in thatdirection, it might be worth my while to give you time. "

"I can do nothing. The fellow is immovable. In six months--"

"In six months everything will be too late. And now, what about theother matter? Is that all right?"

Once more the captain groaned. "I can say nothing about it yet. Sheknows my wishes, but as Robert Ratman she will not hear a word of it. As Roger Ingleton, the elder, you may depend on it the matter will takeanother view. All depends on your success there. When that's achieved, the rest will come if you give her time. "

Mr Ratman sneered. 

"You are a glib talker, Oliphant. I admire you. Now listen. You wantcredit, and you know how to buy it. One way or another, this businessmust come to an end. I'll take new bills with interest at three months. By that time everything must be square and smooth; otherwise you'll besorry you and your children were born, my boy. Order dinner. I'm goingback by the six train. Pass me that paper, and don't disturb me anymore by your talking. "

As Mr Ratman, very well satisfied with his day's business, strolledserenely back through the park that afternoon, he was surprised to hearlight footsteps behind him, and, on turning, to discover that hispursuer, of all people, was Miss Rosalind Oliphant. 

"Hullo!" said he, "this is flattering, with a vengeance. "

"Mr Ratman, I want to speak to you, please, " said Rosalind, very paleand nervous. 

"Excuse me, " said he, "that's not my name; my name is Roger Ingleton. What's the matter?"

"It's about my father. Have you seen him?"

"Just left the dear man. "

"He says he owes you money, and that you threaten to ruin him. Is thatso?"

"Upon my word, if you want to know, it is. "

"How much is it, please?"

Ratman laughed. 

"Nothing. A trifle. Fifteen hundred pounds or thereabouts. "

"Fifteen hundred!" faltered she. "Does he owe you all that. "

The little she had to offer was a drop in the bucket only. 

"Look here, " said he; "Miss Rosy, your father's in a fix. I don't wantto be hard on him, but I must have my money or its equivalent. Now, Ishould consider it a very fair equivalent to be allowed to call himfather-in-law. I may not be up to your mark in some things, MissRosalind, but I've a good name, and I flatter myself I know beauty whenI see it. Now, think over it. It's the only chance your father's got, and you might do worse for yourself than become the mistress ofMaxfield. Good-bye. Shake hands. "

She drew herself up with an air and a flush of colour which redoubledhis admiration, and without a word, turned away with rapid steps. 

Mr Ratman was sorely tempted to follow this beautiful creature, who, inall his chequered career, had been the only human being to discover thefew last dregs of affection in his nature. As much as it was possiblein such a man, he was in love with this debtor's daughter. Thesensation was novel and exhilarating enough to afford him food forcheerful reflection as he walked on towards the station. 

So engrossed was he in his day-dreams that he forgot that even countrytrains are occasionally punctual, and that, at least, he had not muchtime left him to catch the one he aimed at. Indeed, it was not till, within a few minutes of the station, he caught sight of the trainalready standing at the platform that it occurred to him to bestirhimself. He ran, shouted, and waved his arm all at the same time, butto no effect. The whistle blew as he entered the yard, and as hereached the platform the guard's van was gliding out of the station. 

Thoroughly ruffled--for this was the last train to town--Mr Ratmanvented his wrath on the world in general, and the railway officials inparticular, even including in his objurgations an unlucky passenger whohad arrived by the train and shared with him the uninterruptedpossession of the platform. 

"Easy, young man, " said the latter, a substantial-looking, bonyindividual with a wrinkled face, and speaking with a decided Americantwang. "You'll hurt yourself, I reckon, if you talk like that. It'sbad for the jaws. "

Mr Ratman took a contemptuous survey of the stranger and quitted theplatform. 

His first idea was to return to Maxfield and demand entertainment therefor the night. But since he would have to walk all the way, and thefirst train in the morning left Yeld at eight, he decided to put up atthe little hotel of the village instead, and with that object threwhimself and his bag into the omnibus of that establishment which waitedon the trains. 

Somewhat to his disgust, the stranger, after collecting his baggage, entered the same vehicle and took a seat opposite him. 

"Wal, " said he, "you'll have time to cool down before the next train, young man. Putting up at the hotel?"

"Where else should I put up?" growled Ratman. "What business is it ofyours?"

"I guess it's my business to get all the information I can on this trip. I came over this side to learn. "

"You've come to a queer hole to do it, " said Ratman, beginning to feelhe might as well resign himself to circumstances. 

"Just so. It's changed a bit since I was here last. We had to drivefrom Barbeck then. "

"So you know the place, do you?" inquired Ratman. 

"That's so, " was the laconic rejoinder. "A resident, likely?"

"Well, not at present, or I shouldn't be going to the inn. "

"Down here on business, I reckon? I was a bagman myself once. "

"You're wrong again. I've been down to see my property, if you want toknow. "

"Large estate, no doubt? Anywhere near my friend Ingleton's plot, now?"

Mr Ratman stared at the stranger with something like consternation. 

"Ingleton!" he exclaimed. "What do you know of Ingleton?"

Here the omnibus pulled up. 

"Wal, I reckon I should know something of my own family, " drawled thestranger as he alighted. "What say?--shall we have a snack of somethingin the parlour! Come along. "

The landlord led the way into the coffee-room. He knew Mr Ratman bythis time. 

"Sorry we can't give you and your friend the private room, sir, butthere's only one other gentleman in the coffee-room, and he's goingdirectly. "

As they entered, the other gentleman, who was drying his boots at thefire, turned round, and Mr Ratman had the rapture of finding himselfface to face with Mr Armstrong. 

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. 

CAPTAIN OLIPHANT PAYS ONE OF HIS DEBTS. 

Mr Ratman's natural modesty prompted a precipitate retreat from theembarrassing vicinity of the gentleman whom he had last seen with ahorsewhip in his hand; but prudence and the presence of the stranger, and the lack of any other place to go to, prevailed upon him to remain. 

The stranger, apparently unaware of the presence of a third party, continued his conversation where it had been interrupted. 

"Yes, " said he, "I reckon I should know something of my own family, although it's a generation since I set foot in these parts. "

"Yes; all right, " said Ratman uncomfortably. "I'll go and orderdinner. "

But the entrance of the landlord prevented this manoeuvre. 

"The gig from Maxfield is in the village, Mr Armstrong, " said he, addressing the tutor. "I've sent word to Robbins to call for you inhalf an hour. Maybe, if Mr Ratman is going up, you could give him alift. "

"Mr Ratman is not going up, " said Mr Armstrong. 

The stranger here took notice of the tutor. 

"Friend of my friend, eh?" said he. "Pleased to know you, sir. Resident in these parts, I presume? What?"

"Quite so, " said Mr Armstrong, putting up his glass, and honouring thespeaker with a minute survey. 

"As I was saying to our young friend here, there's been changes in thislocality since I was here about the time of Noah. You named Maxfieldjust now, sir. Likely you know Squire Ingleton, my relative, at themanor-house there?"

The tutor's glass dropped abruptly. 

"Your relative? What relation were you to the old Squire?"

"_Was_ I--is he dead, then?"

"More than a year ago. "

"Sir, " said the stranger, with some excitement, "that man was mysister's husband. I guess I've come here a trifle late. Dead? Hedidn't look to have it in him. What say?"

It said a good deal for Mr Ratman's nerve that in the tutor's presencehe took upon himself to reply boldly--

"My father died rather suddenly a year since. So you are my uncle?"

The American mayor stared at the speaker in bewilderment, which was notlessened by an abrupt laugh from the gentleman at the fireplace. 

"I guess I'll take a seat and work this out, " said he. "I'm your uncle, am I? I never should have known it, if you hadn't been so obliging asto tell me, young man. Which branch of the family tree do you hang onto?"

"Your sister had a son, Roger Ingleton. That's my name. "

"Is that so? And you're the present Squire of Maxfield? Well, well. When did you come to life again?"

"There was a false report of my death, " said Ratman, glancing a littlenervously at the tutor, who was diligently removing the mud from hisriding-boots. 

"Wal, it's singular. I never expected to see a nephew of mine again. Why, how long is it, now, since I went over? Thirty-seven years if it'sa day. "

"I can't remember that, " said Ratman tentatively. 

"Seeing you weren't born, you'd find it hard, " said Mr Headland. "But, say, by all accounts you were a troublesome boy. "

"I was not all I might have been, " replied Mr Ratman, beginning to wishthis cross-examination was over. 

"Put it that way, certainly. You ran away, and left your mother, mysister, with a broken heart, I've heard say. "

"My father and I quarrelled, and I left home--yes. "

Here the tutor quitted the fire and came to where the two men sat. 

"Excuse my interrupting you, sir, " said he to the stranger, "but yourconversation interests me. The fact is, the Squire married a secondtime, and left a son, whose guardian I happen to be. By the old man'swill my ward is the heir. You will allow I have a right to feelinterested in this gentleman, who only discovered six months ago that hewas the lost elder brother. "

The good American sat back in his chair and looked from Ratman toArmstrong, and from Armstrong back to Ratman, in a state of painfulbewilderment. 

"Now, " said the tutor, "my ward feels a little curiosity about his elderbrother--only natural, is it not?--and I, as his legal guardian, naturally share that curiosity. "

"Why, certainly, " said the Mayor, beginning to be interested. 

Mr Ratman began to lose countenance, and fidgeted uncomfortably withthe forks and spoons. 

"I have heard a little of this gentleman's romantic career, " continuedthe tutor, with his half-drawl. "He has been good enough to tell us, infact, that when he left home--by the way, when was that, Ratman?"

"When I know your right to ask me questions, " growled Ratman, "I'll seeabout answering them. "

"Seems to me, " said the Mayor, assuming judicial functions for the timebeing, "unless you've disgraced yourself, you can't hurt much by saying. You say you're the Squire's son; this gentleman--I didn't catch yourname, sir?--Armstrong?--Mr Armstrong says he's not as sure as you are. Seems to me, if you tell one thing, you may as well tell another. It'sall one story, and if it's true, it's a good one. "

Mr Ratman did not like the turn affairs were taking. If he refused toreply to the questions put to him, he was aware that he was damaging hisown claim. If he answered, how was he to know if the risk was not evengreater? And yet, what more was Armstrong likely to know about the lostson than he himself? He might as well go through with it. So hereplied, sullenly--

"I left home a year before my mother died. He can get the date of thatfrom the tombstone, if he wants it. "

"Thanks; I'll look at it, " said the tutor with aggravating cheerfulness. "You went up to London, didn't you?"

"I've told you so, and that I lived there with a man called Fastnet. "

"And then you went abroad, I think you said?"

"Yes; to India. "

"Just so; that's where you died, is it not? You stayed in London longenough to go to the dogs, I understood you to say?"

"That didn't take long. I spent all my money in six months, and thenenlisted, " said Ratman, feeling fairly launched by this time. 

"Quite so. And you died, I believe, in India?"

"I was supposed to have died in a skirmish; and they sent news home thatI had. I never corrected it. "

"Whereabouts was the skirmish, if it's a fair question?"

"On the frontier. I forget the name. "

"That's unfortunate. By the way, to go back to London, do you recollectwhere Mr Fastnet lived? I should like to call on him. "

"You won't find him; he died before I went abroad--drank himself todeath. "

"I'm sorry to hear that. And you enlisted under your present name ofRatman, of course?"

"My present name is Ingleton. If I called myself Ratman, that wasbecause I didn't want my father to hear of me. I never told any one myreal name. "

"Seems to me, " said the Mayor, "it's odd how your medical adviser on thefield of battle found out where to write home to say you were dead. "

"It is still more odd, sir, " said the tutor, fixing the claimant withhis glass, "that this Mr Fastnet (who, you will be glad to hear, hasalso come to life again, was still in good health when my ward saw him afew weeks ago) retains a vivid recollection of the runaway son havingentertained him for a year at his own lodgings; at the end of which timethe prodigal, so far from enlisting, took to the stage, and spentanother year, at least, with a company of strolling players. 

"We have your unfortunate's nephew's story, " proceeded the tutor, "carefully traced up to a certain point, and if either you or Mr Ratmanare interested in the matter, we can produce our witnesses. Your memoryis a treacherous one, Robert Ratman. It is no use asking you, I fear, what became of you after a certain riot in Boulogne when you, as theGhost in `Hamlet, ' and your fellow-tragedians were mobbed for not payingthe rent of your hall?"

Mr Ratman, who during this cross-examination had passed through all thestages from blustering rage to abject discomfiture, sank back on hischair and turned a livid face to his questioner. He had sense enough tosee that the game was up; and not being an actor himself, he was at aloss to conceal his defeat. The tutor's cold, keen gaze took the heartout of him. 

"Lying dog!" snarled he, "I've had enough of your questions. You thinkyourself clever, but I'll be even with you yet. I'll ruin the lot ofyou--you and your fellow-scoundrel and his brats, who don't know yetwhat it is to have a felon for a father. You'll be sorry for this. "

So saying, he took up his bag, and with the best swagger he could assumeslunk from the room. 

"See--stay here, young man, " said the Mayor excitedly; "there'ssomething else. "

But he was gone. The outer door slammed to and his footsteps diedgradually away down the street. 

Mr Armstrong and the stranger exchanged glances in silence. Then theMayor turned to Mr Armstrong with a stern face. 

"Seems to me, sir, " said he, "that if that young man's the knave, you'reuncommon like the fool. You'll excuse me mentioning it after theservice you have just rendered to the cause of veracity, but it's asolemn fact. "

"I have heard the same opinion expressed by other authorities, and Ihave no doubt it is true. You mean to tell me I should have extortedfrom him a written recantation of his claim?"

"That's so; you guess right. Consequence is, I'm bound to stay now as awitness to see this quarrel through. Here have I come on a pleasure-trip to see my relatives, and it seems I've got to combine business andpleasure after all. "

"You forget I've no hold over this man. He does not claim the property, although he guesses that my ward will hand it over to him if he proveshis identity. I can only show him to be a liar. "

"You seem pretty sure of that. "

"I am myself; and I hope, for everybody's sake, that your nephew, if heshould turn up, will be a better credit to the name than this land-shark. "

"Well, sir, I don't thank you for dragging me into the business; but, since I am here, I stay to see it out. "

"I am relieved to hear you say so. "

"Tell me now, " said the Mayor, "what the story is; and what does ouryoung friend mean by his farewell threats?"

Thereupon Mr Armstrong gave his new ally a faithful account of thefamily difficulty: of Captain Oliphant's embarrassing relations to theclaimant, of Miss Rosalind's dilemma, of Roger's quixotic determinationto find his lost brother, and of his own--the tutor's--conviction of thehopelessness of the quest. 

The visitor by no means shared the last conclusion. 

"I rather calculate that lost young man ain't as dead as you think, "said he. "By all accounts he wasn't born to be drowned, and he's nothung yet. You bet, the young brother will come up with him beforetime's called. "

"Well, by the last accounts he seems to have a vague clue as to hiswhereabouts fifteen years ago, " said the tutor; "we shall hear what hemakes of it. To-morrow you must come up to Maxfield and see my co-trustee. "

The presence of this unexpected friend of the family, in the capacity ofimpartial umpire, struck the tutor as particularly opportune at thisjuncture. He had been a witness to Ratman's virtual admission to hisimposture, and his natural interest in the discovery of his own nephewwas not likely to warp his determination to see fair play for Roger. 

Captain Oliphant, when he heard next morning of the new arrival, by nomeans shared his co-trustee's satisfaction. The news, indeed, agitatedhim to a remarkable degree, and he astonished the tutor by his ill-concealed reluctance to meet him. 

"It is important that you should see him, " remarked the tutor. "As theuncle of the lost elder brother he is entitled, I think, to ourconfidence. I can imagine no reason why you should be afraid to seehim. "

"Afraid! Who says I am afraid to see him?"

"I can think of no other explanation of your reluctance--"

"Please, sir, Mr Headland to see you, " announced Raffles. 

Captain Oliphant changed colour as he turned to greet the visitor. 

"You'll pardon the early call, " said the latter, "but they gave me sucha shocking supper at the inn, that I resolved to try my luck up here forbreakfast. Captain Oliphant, I presume?--friend of my friend Armstrong. Pleased to know you, sir. Pity you weren't with us last night to seethe decline and fall of your ingenious friend, R. Ratman. Yourcolleague, sir, put that young man to bed in a way that would have madeyou enjoy yourself. Seems to me, captain, you are well rid of him. "

"I fail to understand all this, " said the captain. "If you refer to MrRatman's claims to be the lost Roger Ingleton--"

"My nephew, " interposed the American. 

"All I can say is, that I am not at all satisfied the claim is not ajust one. "

"Well, sir, " said Mr Headland, "if that's your opinion, it's more thanthat young man thinks himself by this time. But never mind that. "

"I do mind it, sir; and I should like to know what right any one has todecide the matter for me? I would suggest that, though we are pleasedto see you, you should allow us to attend to our own business. "

"I not only allow you, sir, but I expect it of you. And that reminds meof a question that has been puzzling me ever since I heard of theSquire's death. I wrote him a letter in the fall of last year. "

The captain was seized with a sudden impulse to stir the fire, and as hestood thus with his back turned, Mr Armstrong could not help wonderingwhat there was in the operation so violently to agitate the operator'sframe. 

"Yes, sir, a letter dated November 9th, which must have been delivered, as I have made inquiries, and find it was not returned. It containedmoney, and as it was never acknowledged, I had fears it was lost. "

"Any letters for the Squire have been opened by his executors. Irecollect none from abroad--do you, Captain Oliphant?" said the tutor. 

The Captain, still with his back turned, said-- "No; it never came intomy hands. "

"Mrs Ingleton would hardly be likely to have opened it. It would beonly a short time before her death. "

"It's singular, " said the Mayor. "My clerk posted it. He should haveregistered it, but omitted. "

"How was it directed?" asked the captain, turning at last, and paleafter his exertions. 

"Roger Ingleton, senior, Maxfield, England. "

"Hum! Did your clerk know it contained money?"

"Which means, did he purloin it? Well, sir, we shall see. An Englishbank-note can be traced. That's one advantage you have over us on theother side. "

Mr Armstrong during this short colloquy experienced a curiousdepression of spirits. He was thinking, not of the bank-notes, or theAmerican mayor, or even of Captain Oliphant, but of Rosalind and Jilland Tom; and the thought of them just at this moment made him feel verymelancholy. 

As for the captain, if his thoughts for a moment turned in the samedirection, they came back instantly, with a strong revulsion of hateagainst the man who stood in his way at every turn; who seemed to readhim through, to unmask him silently whenever he sought to take refuge ina lie, to pin him ruthlessly down to the consequences of his owndelinquencies. But for Armstrong he might have been a free man--free ofhis debts, free of his frauds, clear in his children's eyes, able tohold up his head to all the world. As it was, everything seemed toconspire with his enemy to pinion him and hold him fast, a prey to theNemesis that was on its way! What would he not give to have thisstumbling-block out of the path, and feel himself free to breathe andhope once more?

In such a mood he spent the morning; and about midday, shaking off hisvisitor, wandered out into the park for fresh air and space to think. As he paced, there returned to him memories of old half-forgotten days, of faces that once looked into his trustfully, voices that once made hisheart glad, children that once ran to welcome him; visions of vanishedhopes, ambitions, ideals. Where were they all now? Who believed in himto-day? Who would believe in him a week hence? What voices rejoicedhim now? Into whose life did he carry strength and cheer? The parkstretched bleak and desolate before him; the earth lay sullen under hisfeet, the very trees drooped around him, and the great restless oceanbeyond moaned at his coming. It was nothing to him that the smell ofspring was in the air; that the lark was carolling high overhead; thatthe declining sun was darting his rays through the trees. 

Near at hand rose a sound of laughter. He durst not turn that way, lesthe should meet his own children. 

Far away, through a break in the trees, he could catch a glimpse of theold church at Yeld with the Vicarage beside it, where dwelt the onebeing he dreaded most--his own daughter. From behind wafted a sound ofmusic through an open window, where sat the man who had found him outand could ruin him by a word. 

Which way was he to turn? Which way shall a man turn who would escapefrom himself?

For two long hours he wandered on caring not which way he took, andfeeling himself step by step closer beset by his dismal forebodings. Presently he found himself beyond the park boundaries on the open downswhich stretched to the edge of the cliff. The touch of the salt sea-breeze on his fevered brow startled him and made him shiver. The lastgleam of daylight was fading in the west, and when presently itflickered out and left him in the dark, he felt that the last ray of hisown hope had vanished too. And yet, strange as it may seem, this manhad never been quite as honest with himself as he was now. The game wasfairly up. He had long since given up deluding himself that he wasbetter than he seemed. Now the time was come when it hardly seemedworth while to delude other people. It was no use. Nor, to such a passhad he come, did it seem much use to be a coward. The dog whose lasthope has gone will gather himself together for a final fling at hispersecutors; the poltroon driven back against the wall, unable toretreat farther, will sometimes turn and make a stand such as he neverdeemed himself capable of before. And so Captain Oliphant, because hecould do nothing else, plucked up a little courage and groped about inthe dark for some new fragments of his lost manhood. 

He would go back and face the worst. If he was to be ruined, he wouldpull the mask off himself, and not leave it to Armstrong or any one elseto do it. Whatever befell, nothing could well be more wretched than theplight in which he now stood. He had no amends to make, but he could atleast simplify the labours of those whose business it was to expose andpunish him. With which poor spark of resolution he turned dismally togo back to Maxfield. 

As he did so he became aware of footsteps close at hand on the cliff-path. Whoever the passenger might be--at such an hour and place it wasnot likely to be any one but a coastguard or a fisherman--CaptainOliphant was in no mood for company. He therefore stepped off the pathand sat down on a seat on the edge of the cliff till the intruder hadpassed. 

It was not so dark but that the latter perceived the movement, andhalting suddenly, said--

"Who's that?"

The voice was that of Mr Ratman. What brought him here at this moment, to extinguish, perhaps, the little gleam of courage that flickered inthe breast of his wretched dupe?

For a moment the captain was tempted to run like a thief from apoliceman; but his very desperation came to his rescue. 

"What do you want here, Ratman?"

"Hullo, it's Oliphant! Here's a piece of luck. You're the very man Iwanted to see. I've changed my mind since I said good-bye yesterday, myboy, and mean to remain here on the spot and see the end of thisbusiness. I was on my way to see you. Come along. "

"You'd better say what you want to say here. You won't find anyadmirers of yours up at the house. "

"Ah! then you've heard of last night's business? What on earth bringsthis Yankee idiot here at this time to spoil everything? Now, Teddy, the long and short of this business is, that you must stir yourself. You've shuffled long enough. First of all you were going to marry thewidow; you boggled that. Then you were going to succeed to theproperty; you've boggled that. Then you were to clear the tutor out ofthe way; you've boggled that. Then you were to raise the wind and payme off, and you've boggled that. I've given you long enough rope, goodness knows. I mean to haul in now. "

Captain Oliphant rose from his seat with a dismal laugh. "I'm tired ofhearing you say that, Ratman. I wish you'd do it and be done with it. "

Ratman peered through the gloom at the speaker in surprise. "Hullo!"said he, "that's a new tune for you. Now look here; I suppose you'venot forgotten our talk yesterday?"

"Well?"

"You've two things to do; you've to recognise me as Roger Ingleton whenthe time comes. There'll be proofs and witnesses. They must satisfyyou, mind. Make no mistake of that. Then I must have Rosalind. I loveher. On the day I'm your son-in-law you shall have back every bill Ihold against you. Now, is it a bargain? It's a cheap one for you, Ican tell you. "

The blood rose to Captain Oliphant's brow. A few hours ago he wouldhave faltered and evaded, half whined, half promised; now sheerdesperation made him reckless. 

He laughed bitterly. 

"Recognise you--you shark! Never! And if you ever dare to speak of mydaughter, I'll shake you like a cur. There now, do as you like; you'vegot my answer. "

Ratman dropped his jaw in utter amazement. For a minute the words wouldnot come. Then, with a face so livid that Oliphant could see itswhiteness through the night, he hissed--

"You mean it? You defy me?--me, with these papers in my hand, and thewhole story of your villainy in my keeping? You--"

As he held up the bills a wild impulse prompted the wretched captain tomake a grab at them. 

There was a short struggle. Oliphant, with his back to the cliff, kepthis hold for a moment; then a fierce blow sent him reeling backwards tothe edge, with the torn half of the documents in his hand. There was agasp, a half cry, and next moment only one man stood in the place, peering with ashen face into the black darkness below. 

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. 

THE BILLIARD-MARKER AT "L'HOTEL SOULT. "

In the _salon_ of a small dilapidated hotel in one of the southernsuburbs of Paris sat Roger, three weeks after the event recorded in thelast chapter. He had the dull place, apparently, to himself. Thebilliard-room, visible through the folding-doors, was deserted. In thedining-room the waiter dozed undisturbed by a single guest. Thelandlady in her _bureau_ yawned and hummed, and had not even a bill tomake out. 

She had already made out that of the young English gentleman, and apretty one it was! A guest such as he was worth a season to thelandlady of "L'Hotel Soult. " Three weeks ago, half dead with cold andweariness, he had come and asked for a bed; and in that bed tillyesterday he had remained, feverish, coughing, sometimes gasping forbreath. Compared with the attack he had had in London in the winter, this was a mild one; but in this dreary place, with not a friend athand, with a doctor who could not understand a word he said, with avoluble landlady who, when she visited him, never gave him a chance ofgetting in a word, and with a few servants who stared at him blanklywhenever he attempted to lift his voice, it was the most miserable ofall his illnesses. 

He was as close a prisoner as if he had been in jail. The doctor, whotook apartments at his expense in the hotel, would not allow him tomove. No one to whom he appealed could be made to understand that hehad friends in England with whom he desired to communicate. One letterto Armstrong which he had tried to write the landlady impounded anddestroyed as waste-paper, perhaps not quite by accident. This well-to-do young guest was worth nursing. His friends would only come and fetchhim away; whereas she, motherly soul! was prepared to take him in and dofor him. The pocket of the coat which on the day of his arrival she hadcarried off to her kitchen to dry contained satisfactory proof thatMonsieur was a young gentleman who could pay; and although she was toohonest to recoup herself for her services in advance, she had kept thecoat hanging up in her room for a week, as a pleasant reminder of thejoys of hospitality. 

Only yesterday the invalid had recovered sufficiently to rout the doctorand stagger down to the telegraph-office; and to-day, propped up withpillows on the uncomfortable stuff-sofa, he was expiating his rashnesswith a day of miserable coughing. 

At the sound of his handbell, the landlady, a buxom dame of forty-fiveautumns, hastened to the couch of her profitable visitor. 

Roger was too weak to oppose the flood of her congratulations andcompliments on his recovery, and allowed her to talk herself breathlessbefore he put in his word. 

"Madame has not been many years in these parts?" he inquired in his bestFrench. 

Madame threw up her shoulders and protested she had lived in those partsfrom a child, when the dull suburb was once a festive little rusticvillage, and the great city now gobbling it up once loomed mysteriouslyin the north, with acres and miles of green fields and woods between. 

"But this hotel, " said Roger, "has not stood here so long?"

"_Ma foi_!" said she, "since I can remember, when I used to visit mygood uncle here every Sunday, I remember `L'Hotel Soult. ' Why, when Imarried my cousin and became _Madame l'hotesse_, it was all fieldsbetween us and Paris. Yes, and little enough change about the house. We cannot afford, Monsieur, to build and decorate. By a miracle weescaped the German shells. Ah! a merry time was the year of the war!France suffered, alas! but the `L'Hotel Soult' prospered. 'Twas theyear I was left a widow! I had ten waiters then, Monsieur, and twobilliard-markers, a _chef_ from the best kitchen in Paris, and stables, and _chambrieres_, and--why, Monsieur, the wages of one week weretwenty--twenty-five napoleons!"

"That was after the war?" asked Roger. 

"Yes. Before that I had more. But, alas! they left me for the field, and came no more. "

"Were all your waiters Frenchmen?" asked Roger. 

Madame stared curiously at the questioner. 

"Why do you ask? I have had many kinds. Some English, like Monsieur. "

"A year or two after the war, " said Roger, "there was an Englishman, arelation of mine, who was a waiter in an hotel in one of the suburbssouth of Paris. I want to hear of him. I have hunted for weeks. Icould hear nothing of him. I came here before I gave it up as ahopeless search, and, as you know, I've been laid up ever since. Youhave been kind to me, Madame; something makes me think I was not kepthere for nothing. Can you help me to find my friend?"

The landlady began to have inward misgivings that she had not behaved tothis pleasant-spoken young guest of hers as nicely as she might havedone, and she secretly resolved to revise the bill in his favour beforepresenting it. 

"Why, Monsieur, I had plenty English in my time. The year after the warI had--let me think--two or three. Your friend--was he the little lameone who waited beautiful at table, but that he cough, cough, till I mustsend him away?"

"No; that's not the one. "

"Then it was the fat one?--John Bull, we call him, who eat more than heserved, never used a fork when he had his fingers. Ah, he was a dirtyone, was your friend!"

"No, " said Roger; "that's not he. My friend was not much older than Iam, and a gentleman. "

"A gentleman--and a waiter!" laughed the landlady. "But tell me, whatwas his name?"

"He used to call himself Rogers. "

She shook her head. 

"No one of that name was here. I had English, one or two--Bardsley, andJackson, and Smith; he was a gentleman, but he was not young. He wasfifty years, Mr Smith--a good servant. Also there was MonsieurCallow. "

"Callot!" exclaimed Roger, starting at the familiar name. "Was he anEnglishman?"

"Surely. C-a-l-l-o-w--Callow. Ah! he was a droll one, was MonsieurCallow, and a gentleman too. I never had a billiard-marker like him. He could play any man, and lose by one point; and he could recite andsing; and oh, he eat so little! Every one laughed at him; but helaughed little himself, and thought himself too good for his fellow-waiters. "

"What was he like?" asked Roger, flushing with excitement. 

"A fine young man, with long curly hair, and whiskers and a beard. Hewas afraid of nothing, tall and strong. Ah me! I have seen him knock aman down at a blow. He was a wild, reckless man, was Monsieur Callow;but a good servant, and oh! a beautiful billiard player. He always knewhow to lose a game, and oh! it made my table so popular!"

"Had he any friends in Paris?"

"Yes; he went often to see his father--so he told me--an actor who gavelessons. I never saw _Monsieur le pere_. "

"How long did he stay with you?"

"Callow? For five years he served me well. Then there was a _fracas_, a quarrel; I remember it now. An English officer was here, and playedwith him, and was beaten. 'Twas the only time I ever knew Callow win agame; but he lost his temper this time, and won. Then Milord called hima cheat, and without a word Monsieur Callow knocked him down. Thepolice came, and Monsieur Callow knocked _him_ down. Then he put on hishat and walked, and I never saw him more. He always said he would go tosea, and I think he would keep his word. Ah, a telegram! 'Tis longsince telegrams came to my hotel. _Helas_! not for me; for you, Monsieur. "

It was from Armstrong. 

"Shall be with you, ten to-morrow morning. "

The three weeks which had passed at Maxfield had been terrible. 

The discovery of Captain Oliphant's body at the foot of the cliff, withthe clear traces of a struggle on the brink above, had created aprofound sensation at Maxfield and the country round. 

For a day the air was full of wild conjectures of suicide, incident, foul play; until the last-named theory was finally confirmed by thediscovery in the tightly-clenched hand of the dead man of a fragment ofa promissory note bearing the signature of Robert Ratman. 

To the tutor, as he held the paper in his hand, everything becamestartlingly clear. This was the last act of a tragedy which had beengoing on for months; and now that the curtain had abruptly fallen, hecould not help, in the midst of this horror, owning to a sense ofthankfulness, for the sake of others, that the troubled career of hisrival and enemy had stopped short at a point beyond which nothing butdisgrace and scandal and misery awaited it. 

From that disgrace it was his business now, by every means in his power, to shield the innocent brother and sisters who still honoured the deadman as their father. 

Many a grievous task had been thrown upon the tutor in his day, but nonecost him more effort than this, of breaking to the children of his enemythe news of their father's death. But he went through it manfully andably. 

Rosalind, on whom the blow fell hardest, because on her spirit theburden of her father's cares had lain heaviest, rose, with a heroine'scourage, to the occasion, and earned the tutor's boundless gratitude bymaking his task easy. She said little; she understood everything. Sheremembered nothing but the father's love--his old caresses andconfidences and kindnesses. The tears she shed blotted out all theanxieties and misgivings and heart-sinkings of recent weeks. All thatremained was crowded with love. 

Tom, dulled and stunned, took the story in gradually, and got used to itas he went along. He came and slept at night in the tutor's room, andfelt how much worse things might have been had it not been for thestalwart protector who put hope and cheer into him, and filled the blankin his heart with sturdier views of life than the boy had ever harbouredthere before. 

As for Jill, for a week all was blackness and darkness to her. She feltdeserted--lost. She cried herself to sleep at night, and by daywandered over the house, peeping into her father's room, and halfexpecting to see him back. Then her gentle spirit took courage, and shelooked up, and her eyes lit with comfort and hope on Mr Armstrong. Everything could not be lost if he was there; and when he sometimescame, and took her little hand in his, and invited her to be hiscompanion in his rides, or sought her out in her lonely walks and madeher teach him the haunts of her favourite flowers or read to him fromher favourite books, she began to think there was still some joy left onearth. 

"Dear Mr Armstrong, " she said one day when, by invitation, she came tomake afternoon tea for him in his room, "you are so awfully kind to me!If I was only as old as Rosalind, I would marry you. "

This rather startling declaration took the tutor considerably aback. Helaughed and said--

"You are very nice as you are, Jill. "

"You think I'm silly, I know, " said she, "but I'm not. Would you hateme if I was older?"

"I don't think I could hate you, not even if you were a hundred. "

"I love you ever so much, " said she. "Please don't believe what Tomsaid about the Duke. I don't like him a millionth part as much as you. "

"Poor Duke!" said the tutor. 

"Really and truly. And oh, Mr Armstrong, if you would only wait Iwould love to marry you some day! How soon shall I be big enough?"

This was getting embarrassing. But the tutor was in a tender mood, andhad it not in his heart to thwart the little Leap-year maid. "Timeflies fast, " said he; "you'll be grown up before we know where we allare. "

She sighed. 

"I know you'd sooner have Rosalind. But she doesn't care for you asmuch as I do. She likes Roger best; but I don't; I like you fiftythousand times better. Would it be an _awful_ bother, Mr Armstrong?"

"What! to have Jill for my little wife?" said he. "Not a bit. If everI want one, she's the first person I mean to ask. "

With this declaration Jill had to rest content. It solaced her sorrowvastly; and even though Rosalind, to whom she confided the compact undera pledge of secrecy, scolded and laughed at her alternately, she felt anew prospect open before her, and set herself resolutely to the task ofgrowing up worthy of Mr

Armstrong's affection. 

But amid all these troubles and hopes at Maxfield, two questions were onevery one's lips: "Where was Roger? Where was Robert Ratman?"

Roger had written once after reaching Paris, a letter full of hope, which had arrived a few days before Captain Oliphant's death. He hadsucceeded at last in tracking the man Pantalzar to a low lodging in thecity, and from him had ascertained somewhat of the history of the Callotfamily. They had lodged with him at Long Street in London, where theyhad given lessons in acting, elocution, and music; and Pantalzar clearlyremembered the lad Rogers as a constant visitor at the house, partly inthe capacity of a promising student of the dramatic art, and partly as ahopeless lover of his preceptor's wayward daughter. 

After a year, his troubles in the latter capacity were abruptly cutshort by the illness and death of the young lady; a blow which staggeredthe parents and broke up the establishment at Long Street. It failed, however, to drive Rogers from the party, who, with a romantic loyalty, attached himself to the fortunes of the old people, and became like ason to them in their distresses. 

Eventually the bereaved family migrated to Paris, whence Pantalzar hadonce heard from the father, who had found employment as stall manager ofa third-rate theatre in one of the _fauxbourg_. Hither Roger trackedhim, and after dogged search, often baffled, sometimes apparentlyhopeless, discovered some one who remembered the reputed son of the oldcouple, who, as far as this witness could remember, was thought to havehired himself out as billiard-marker in an hotel in one of the southernsuburbs of the city. 

Thus far he had succeeded when he wrote home. What transpiredsubsequently, and how he dropped for a season out of all knowledge, thereader already knows. 

The suspense occasioned by his sudden disappearance, as may be imagined, added a new element of wretchedness to the situation at Maxfield. Telegrams, letters, inquiries, alike failed to discover his whereaboutsor the secret of his silence. As post after post came and broughtneither message nor tidings, the hearts of the watchers grew sick. Tothe tutor especially, tied as he was to the scene of the tragedy, thosethree weeks were a period of torture. He urged Dr Brandram to go overto Paris to make inquiries; but the Doctor, after a fortnight offruitless search, returned empty-handed. 

Mr Armstrong thereupon resolved at all hazards to quit his post and gohimself. He knew something of Paris. He had old associations with thecity, and once, as the reader has heard, possessed acquaintances there. If any one could find the boy, he thought he could; and with such trustysubstitutes as the Doctor and Mr Headland, who remained at Yeld, toleave behind, he felt that he might, nay rather that he must, venture onthe journey. 

It was on the morning of his departure, as he was waiting for the trapto carry him to the station, that Roger's telegram was put in hishand:--

"Come--have been ill--better now--Hotel Soult--no news. "

Twenty-four hours later the tutor was at his pupil's side, with a heavyweight lifted from his heart, and resolved, come what would, not to quithis post till he had the truant safe back at Maxfield. 

The news he brought with him served to drive from Roger's mind allthoughts of continuing his sojourn a day longer than was necessary torecover his strength. 

"It seems pretty certain, " said he, "that my brother, when he left here, returned to England, and probably went to sea very soon after. There isno object in staying here. Look in that room there, Armstrong. That'sthe billiard-room in which he spent most of his time, and that's thevery table on which he let himself be beaten regularly for the good ofthe house. "

The tutor walked across to the folding-doors and surveyed the dingy roomwith critical interest. 

"And that must have been little more than twelve years ago, " said he. "Do you still hold to your theory that Ratman is your brother?"

"I have no theory. I must find my brother, even if he is a--amurderer, " said the boy with a groan. "But, I say, has nothing beenheard of him?"

"The police have traced him to London; there the scent ends for thepresent. He is probably in hiding there, and one may have to wait weeksor months till he gets off his guard and is caught. "

About ten days later they started, by slow stages, on the homewardjourney. Whether Madame received all she expected for her hospitalityis doubtful. Mr Armstrong undertook the duties of cashier, and usedhis eye-glass considerably in scrutinising the figures. He craved aninterview with Madame in her parlour to discuss her arithmetic, andalthough he appeared eventually to arrive at a satisfactoryunderstanding with the good lady (so much so, that she shed tears at hisdeparture), he did not complain that her charges were extortionate, asFrench hotels go. 

The home-coming of the heir of Maxfield created a welcome flutter ofexcitement among the desolate occupants of the manor-house and theirneighbours. But the flutter in their hearts was nothing compared withthat in the heart of the heir himself as he walked across the park onthe day after his return to call at the Vicarage and invite Rosalind toaccompany him in a ride. What passed--whether the flutter wascontagious, what brought back the deserted colour to Miss Rosalind'scheeks, why they rode so slow and left so much of their course to thedecision of their steeds, --all this and many other matters for wonder, history recordeth not, as is quite proper. But it does record thatwhen, on their return, Mr Armstrong chanced to come out on to the door-step, where the two stood unmounted, Roger said--

"Armstrong, Rosalind has promised to be my wife. "

The tutor flushed a little at this not unexpected announcement; thentaking his pupil's arm, he said--

"It means great happiness for you both. I am glad--very glad. "

But why, if he was so glad, did he slink off to his study forthwith andplay a dirge on his piano, and there sit listlessly in his chair for therest of the morning staring out of the window through his glass, tillJill tripped in and fetched him down to lunch, saying--

"Dear Mr Armstrong, try not to be too awfully sorry. _I_ think no oneis as nice as you. "

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. 

THE HEIR OF MAXFIELD COMES OF AGE. 

It wanted but a month to Roger's majority, that important day on whichthe fate of so many persons was to be decided, when a letter wasdelivered to the heir of Maxfield as he sat at breakfast. 

The weeks that had passed since Captain Oliphant's sudden death had beenuneventful. To Rosalind and Roger the discovery that they loved oneanother went far to lighten the sorrow which had befallen both--one inthe death of a father, the other in what appeared to be the hopelessloss of a brother. 

Roger had by no means yet abandoned his search. Twice already had heand Armstrong been up to London to make inquiries, but without avail. The billiard-marker of "L'Hotel Soult" had vanished as completely as--well, as Mr Ratman. 

"You know, of course, " said the tutor once, with the ratherunsympathetic drawl in which he was wont to allude to the lostIngleton--"you know, of course, that if the man you want is Ratman, youare having the assistance of the police in your search. A warrant isout against him, and heaven and earth is being moved to capture him. "

Roger sighed. 

"I am looking for no one but my brother, " said he, "Even if he turns outto be this miscreant, I cannot help it. "

"Quite so. Only it is right to remember that to find Ratman means tohang him. That at least is the object the police have in view. But youneed not disturb yourself on that score. Roger Ingleton, major, if wefind him, may be a villain, but he won't be the murderer of MissOliphant's father. "

They returned presently, baffled, to Maxfield. No one at the depots, orrecruiting head-quarters, or pension offices could tell them a word of asoldier or a sailor named Callot who might have enlisted or gone to seaabout twelve years ago. How could they expect it? Nor did the mostcareful search among the old Squire's papers lead to the discovery ofany record of the supposed report of the lad's death. 

As a matter of fact, if the billiard-marker at "L'Hotel Soult" was theman, they had already traced him down to a date long subsequent to thatof his rumoured death. 

Together they ransacked the memories of Dr Brandram, the Vicar, oldHodder, and one or two other inhabitants who might be supposed to knowsomething of the matter. Very few there were who had seen the boy atall. He had spent most of his time at school, and during his occasionalholidays had usually found all the amusement he needed in the ampleconfines of the park. 

No one had seen in black and white an announcement of his death. TheSquire had told the Doctor that news of it had arrived from abroad;where and when and under what circumstances he never said. Old Hodderremembered the story of the quarrel between father and son, andidentified the portrait as that of the missing lad. But, despite hisboasted "threescore years and ten, " the old man was absolutely uselessin the present inquiry. 

And so, thwarted at every turn, not knowing what to hope for, too proudto own himself beaten, Roger abandoned the search, and awaited hismajority very much as a debtor awaits his bankruptcy. 

Mr Armstrong, who chanced to look up at the moment when Rafflesdelivered the letter, concluded at once from the startled look on thelad's face that it was a missive of no common importance. 

It was from Ratman, and bore on its envelope the London post-mark:--

 "Dear Brother, --For the last time I claim your help. I know quite well that I am being hunted to death by you and those you employ. Without a shred of evidence you are willing to believe me a murderer. I suppose I have no right to complain. It would be convenient to you to have me out of the way, and the best way of getting rid of me is to get up this cry against me. A nice brotherly act, and worthy of an Ingleton! It is no use my telling you that I am innocent--that till I had been two days here I never so much as heard of Oliphant's death. You would not believe it. Nor, I fancy, is it much use telling you that the scoundrel owed me money, that I was shielding him from the consequences of an old felony for which he might have had penal servitude, and that the little he did pay me was stolen from your property. Of course you wouldn't believe it. It is only about your brother, who has been a slung stone all his life, who never had a friend, never knew a kind look from any one, that you are ready to believe evil. I am nearly at the end of my tether here. In a day or two you will probably hear that I am arrested, and then you will have your revenge on me for daring to be your flesh and blood; and you will have no difficulty in convincing a judge and jury that I have committed any crime you and your saintly tutor choose to concoct between you. Pleasant to be rich and influential! I could escape if I had money. Fifty pounds would rid you of me almost as effectively as the gallows. But it would cost you something; therefore it is absurd to imagine it possible. When, three days hence, I make my last call at the General Post Office, and hear once more that there is nothing for me, not even a message of brotherly pity (which costs nothing), I shall know my last hope is gone. And you, in the lap of luxury, counting your thousands, and monarch of all you survey, will be able to breathe again. Either you will hear of my arrest, or, if my courage befriends me, you may read in an obscure corner of the paper of a wretch, hounded to death, who escaped his pursuers after all, and preferred to die by his own hand rather than that of his brother. Good-bye till then. 

 "Your brother, --

 "Roger Ingleton. 

 "_P. S_. --The Post Office know me, or my messenger, as `Richard Redfern. ' No doubt you will show this letter to your tutor, who should have no difficulty in using the information I am obliged to give as to my whereabouts to run me down. "

The flush on Roger's face had died down into pallor by the time hereached the end of this savage yet dismal letter. Till he came to thepostscript he had reckoned on demanding Armstrong's advice as to itscontents. Now, somehow, his hands seemed tied. Here was a man, claiming to be his brother, practically placing his life in his hands. Whether the story were true or false, the writer had calculated astutelyon the quixotic temper of his correspondent. The appeal, insultingly asit was made, was one which Roger Ingleton, minor, could not resist. 

"I have had a letter from Ratman, " said he when the two friends werealone together. 

"I am not surprised, " said the tutor. "He wants money, of course?"

"I can't show you the letter, simply because it contains a vague clue asto his whereabouts, which you would feel bound to follow up. "

"I undoubtedly should, " said Mr Armstrong. "Shall not you?"

"No. He gives it in confidence, in the hope I shall send him money. Idon't intend to do that, but it would hardly be fair to use this letteragainst him. "

"He is Captain Oliphant's murderer. "

"He denies it, and once more calls himself my brother. "

The tutor shrugged his shoulders. 

"As you please. Burn the letter. It probably does not tell more thanthe police know already. "

Roger dismally obeyed. Had he felt sure that this man was his brother, he would have, at all risk and in spite of all, tried to help him. Evenso, to help him with one hand would mean to ruin him with the other. Ifhe found him, it would be to hand him over to the police. If heprocured his escape, it would be to oust him irrevocably from hisinheritance. 

There seemed nothing for it but to do nothing and wait. 

In other quarters the policy of inaction found little favour. MrHeadland called up the same evening at Maxfield and demanded aninterview with the tutor. 

"Wal, young man, " said he, "I calculate those two hundred-pound notes ofmine didn't travel so far astray after all. "

"You have traced them, then?"

"I've been three weeks doing it, but I have so. "

"And with what conclusion?"

"Just this, that Captain E. Oliphant fell over that cliff just aboutthe right time, sir. Yes, sir, my notes are lying snug at the EnglishBank at this present moment, and I know their pedigree. Number 90, 356came there from a bank in Fleet Street. The bank in Fleet Streetreceived it from a hotel. The hotel received it from a gentleman whoslept in bedroom Number 36, and that gentleman's name was Ratman. Number 90, 357 came to the bank later from Amsterdam. Amsterdam had itfrom an English diamond merchant, the diamond merchant had it from astock jobber, and the stock jobber had it from a sporting club, who hadit from a temporary member in December last in payment of a gamblingdebt, and that temporary member's name was Ratman. That's not all, sir. My letter was posted in America, November 9. On November 17 the post-master at Yeld, an intelligent man, sir, received a letter with anAmerican stamp, sir, addressed to Roger Ingleton, senior, at Maxfield. A Yankee stamp was a novelty to your intelligent post-master, and hetook a note of date, and sent it up here for delivery. It was deliveredhere November 17, and your footman remembers giving it to yourcolleague. Three days after, Mr Ratman visited his friend Captain E. Oliphant here. Two days later he reached the hotel in London with aYeld label on his trunk. A week after that he passed note Number 90, 356to settle his bill. There, sir; the Americans are born explorers. Iflatter myself there's not much more to know about my two notes. "

"Quite so, " said the tutor. "You have done a great deal in three weeks. What reparation can be made you?"

"Sir, you are an honest young man. You believe in shielding the memoryof a dead enemy. You are right. Continue on that tack and you'll doyourself credit. As executor of my late kinsman, I will trouble you toplace this cheque for £200 to the credit of the estate, and never to saya word about the sum that was lost. Notes get lost every day; at leastthey do in America. "

Mr Armstrong's gratitude was beyond words. He had set his heart, forthe sake of the children of his late colleague, and even for Roger'ssake, on covering with a cloak of oblivion the crime of which chance hadmade him the detector. This American had it in his power to aid orthwart him, and had chosen the former course; and a great weight waslifted off the tutor's mind in consequence. 

On the following day he was calling at the Yeld bank to transact somebusiness (part of which was to pay in Mr Headland's cheque), when themanager invited him into his parlour. This functionary was arespectable, middle-aged person, who had held his appointment for fiveor six years, keeping pretty much to himself, and, as is the lot of bankmanagers, being made a great deal of by clients who chanced to be, ordesired to be, under obligations to his bank. 

"Mr Armstrong, " said he, "you will pardon me, but there's a littlematter--"

"Hullo!" thought the tutor, "has the bank stopped payment, or theMaxfield securities been robbed?"

"Well, sir?"

"It's a private matter, and I should not mention it if it were not forthe talk which is going to and fro about young Mr Ingleton's lostbrother. I understand there's a claimant for the title, and not a veryeligible one. "

"On the contrary, most ineligible, " said the tutor. "And it seemslikely that he will, under present circumstances, keep far enough awayfrom these parts?"

"Naturally. The coroner's jury have given him a pressing invitation, which he feels compelled to decline. "

"Well, about this lost boy. You'll think me impertinent, but I think Ican tell you something about him. "

The tutor started, and looked hard at the speaker. "Yes, " said thelatter mildly. "As you know, I've not been here long. My predecessor, Mr Morris, was a friend of the family. I remember his once mentioningan elder son of the Squire who had been reported dead, and that was allI ever heard of the matter from him or anybody else. But only lastweek, in a bundle of documents relating to Mr Morris's own affairs, which, as his executor, it was my duty to examine, I came upon a letterwhich, though evidently private at the time, seems as if it ought atleast to be seen by you and your ward now. It proves that ten years agothe elder son was alive, and being in his handwriting, it may beimportant evidence if you have to deal with the claim of an impostor. "

The tutor expressed considerable discomfort at this new complication, and regarded the document in the banker's hand as if it were an infernalmachine. 

"It's private, you say. Would it not be better to regard it as such?"

"I think it should be seen. If you prefer I will submit it to MrPottinger. "

This settled the business. The tutor stretched out his hand for theletter. It was dated from on board the ship "Cyclops, " off Havana, tenyears ago, and, by the unsteady character of the handwriting, whichrendered some words almost illegible, had evidently been written in ahigh sea. Mr Armstrong could scarcely help smiling at the banker'snaive suggestion as to the use of the document as evidence ofhandwriting. 

The note was as follows:--

 "Dear Mr Morris, --I write to you in strictest confidence. My father probably has given me up for dead. I hope so. On no account must he know that I have written to you. My object is to enclose a twenty- five dollar note which I owe him. Once, before we quarrelled, he lent me five pounds. I want to pay it back without any one knowing of it, because I'm determined not to owe anything to anybody, especially to one who has told me I'm not honest. Please put it into his bank account. He probably will never notice it; anyhow, please, whatever you do, don't tell him or any one alive where it came from, or that you ever heard a word from me or of me. I trust you as a gentleman. 

 "Yours truly, --

 "Roger Ingleton. "

"Well, sir, " said the banker, who had watched the reading curiously, "does it not seem an important letter?"

"I think so. It appears to be genuine, too, on the face of it. If youwill allow me I should like my ward to see it. It will interest him. "

The tutor was not wrong. With this strange missive in his hand allRoger's yearnings towards his lost brother returned in full force. Theobject of his search seemed suddenly to stand within measurable reach. Ten years appeared nothing beside the twenty which only a few monthsback had divided them. If he could but postpone his majority anotheryear! Then came the miserable doubt about Ratman. If, after all, hisunlikely, discredited story should prove to have a grain of truth at thebottom of it! But he dismissed the doubt for the hope. 

"Armstrong, I must go to town to find out about the `Cyclops. ' Comewith me, there's a good fellow. In three weeks it will be too late. "

The tutor was prepared for this decision. 

"By all means, " said he. "We will go to-morrow to inquire after apassenger or sailor who was on board a sailing-vessel, nationalityunknown, which happened to be off Havana in a heavy sea on October 20, ten years ago. "

"I know it's absurd, " said Roger, "but I can't help it. I never seemedso near my brother before. I should despise myself if I sat idle here. "

So it happened that, just when Maxfield was preparing in a quiet way tocelebrate the coming of age of the heir; just as the gloom which hadfollowed on Captain Oliphant's tragic death was beginning to lift alittle and allow Tom and Jill decorously to think of football; just asRosalind was beginning to make up her mind that she was not destined forever to teach the elements of art and science to the Vicarage children;just when everything seemed to be settling down for the last scene ofthe drama, Roger and his tutor vanished once more on their familiarwild-goose chase. 

Dr Brandram grumbled; the county gentry shook their heads; MrPottinger breathed again. No one thought well of the expedition; somewent so far as to make a jest of it. 

Roger cared nothing for what people thought. With Armstrong to backhim, with Rosalind to bid him a brave God-speed, with his own stoutheart to buoy him up, and with his lost brother only ten years distant, he could afford to start in good cheer, and let the world think what itliked. 

But the cheer was destined to failure. They heard of one or two vesselscalled the "Cyclops, " but respecting the crew or passengers, of none ofthem was it possible to glean a word of news. The vessel in questionmight have been ship, schooner, or barque; she might have been English, American, Indian, or Australian; she might have foundered, or changedher name, or been broken up for lumber. Lloyds knew her not. WestIndia merchants had never heard of her. Of all their quests, thisseemed the most vague and hopeless. 

Up to the last, Roger stuck doggedly to it. Even if he spent hismajority in the London docks he would not turn tail. The tutor backedup loyally, did most of the work, made most of the inquiries, nevergrumbled or gibed or protested. When Roger looked most like giving in, it was the tutor who put fresh heart into him. 

"To-morrow, " said Roger on the eve of his birthday, "I will give it up. But there is a day yet. "

And sure enough, on the last day, a vague ray of light came in the shapeof a telegram from the port-master at Havana, to whom, at the tutor'ssuggestion, a message of inquiry had been sent:--

 "_Cyclops known. Writing_. "

Writing! A letter would take weeks to come, and they had but a day!They hurried to the telegraph-office and sent an urgent message beggingparticulars by wire whatever the cost. Late that day, indeed it wasnearly midnight, the reply came:--

 "_Sailed Ceylon, West Indies. Name Ingleton unknown. Ship now here_. "

Roger staggered from the office a beaten man. Through the deserted Citystreets the clocks were booming the hour of midnight and ushering in hismajority. His brother! All along he had persuaded himself this questwas to end in victory, that before now he should have met his brotherface to face and given him what was his. To-day it was no longer his togive. The race was already over, and the clock had won. His brotherwas not there. 

"Take my arm, dear old fellow, " said Mr Armstrong, "and cheer up. "

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. 

MISSING LINKS. 

For three hours that night the two friends, arm-in-arm, paced the emptystreets, saying little, brooding much, yet gaining courage at everystep. The touch of his guardian's arm thrilled Roger now and again witha sensation of hope and relief in the midst of his dejection whichalmost surprised him. He had lost his brother; but was not this man asgood as a brother to him? Would life be quite brotherless as long as heremained at his side?

The tutor, for his part, experienced a strange emotion too. The openingday had brought a crisis in his life as well as in that of his ward. Itwas a day to which he had long looked forward, partly with the dread ofseparation, partly with the joy of a man who has honestly done his workand is about to render up his trust. But was it all over now? Nolonger now was he a guardian or governor. Was he therefore to lose thisgallant comrade, to whom all the brotherhood in his nature went out?

With reflections such as these it is scarcely to be wondered at thatlittle was said during that long aimless walk. 

At last Roger shivered. 

"Let's turn in, " said Mr Armstrong. 

They were in a street off the Strand, a long way from their hotel, andno cab in sight. 

"Any place will do, " said Roger. "Why not this?" and he pointed to thedoor of a seedy-looking private hotel, over which a lamp burned with thelegend--"Night porter in attendance. "

The tutor surveyed the house curiously through his and then said--

"Quite so; I stayed here once before, " and rang the bell. 

The door was opened by a person of whose nationality there could belittle doubt, particularly when, after a momentary inspection of hisbelated guests, he uttered an exclamation of joy and accosted thetutor--

"_Mon ami_! Oh! I am glad to see you, my good friend. Friend of my_pauvre pere_!--friend of my youth! It is you. Ah, Monsieur!" addedhe, addressing Roger, "for your friend's sake you are welcome. _Entrez_!"

"Be quiet now, Gustav, " said the tutor. "Bring us come coffee in thecoffee-room, if you can get it made, and light a fire in the bedroom. We will talk in the morning. "

Gustav gesticulated delighted acquiescence in any demand his hero made, and ushered them into the coffee-room. 

"What a queer fellow!" said Roger when he had vanished in search of thecoffee. 

"Queer but good-hearted fellow is Gustav, " said the tutor. "I haveknown him a long time; to-morrow I'll tell you-- Hullo!"

There was but a single candle in the room, and by its dim light, andthat of the half-expired fire, they had not at first been able to seethat they were not the sole occupants of the apartment. On the sofa laycurled the figure of a man breathing heavily, and, to judge by thespirit-bottle and glasses on the table at his hand, expiating a carouseby a disturbed and feverished slumber. 

The tutor raised the candle so that the light fell more clearly on thesleeper. Something in the figure had struck him. The man lay with hisface turned towards them. He was stylishly though cheaply dressed. Hisage may have been forty, and his features were half obscured by aprofuse and unkempt sandy beard. This was not what had struck thetutor. In his frequent turnings and tossings the sleeper had contrivedto betray the fact that his hirsute appearance was due not to nature butto art. A wire hook had been displaced from the ear, leaving one sideof the wig tilted so as to disclose underneath the smooth cheek of aclean-shaven man. 

The examination was still in process when Gustav re-entered the room. The clatter with which he put down the cups on the table, aided by theglare of the candle and the tutor's sharp ejaculation, wakened thesleeper with a start. He was sober enough as he raised his head sharplyand sprang to his feet. In doing this the treacherous wig slipped stillfarther. Before he could raise his hand to replace it Mr Armstrong hadstepped forward and torn the mask from his face, disclosing the lividcountenance of Mr Robert Ratman!

The surprise on either side was at first beyond reach of words. Themiscreant stood staring in a dazed way, first at Armstrong, then atRoger, then at Gustav, who, being a Frenchman, was the first to come tohis use of his tongue. 

"_Mon dieu_! Monsieur, this is no bedroom for the gentleman. It isforbidden to sleep all night in the _salle a manger_. "

"Silence, Gustav! Go for a policeman, " said Armstrong in a tone sostrange that the faithful Gustav slunk away like a dog with his tailbetween his legs. 

"Now, sir!" said the tutor as the door closed. 

The wretch made one wild effort at escape. He might have known by thistime with whom he had to deal. Mr Armstrong held him by the wrist asin a vice. 

"It won't do, Ratman, " said he. "The game is up. The best thing youcan do is to stand quietly here till the police come. "

The prisoner sullenly abandoned his struggle, and turned with a bittersneer to Roger. 

"So you've run me down, have you? You've found your lost brother atlast? I expected it. I was a fool to suppose you would lift a fingerfor me. There's some chance of escaping from an enemy, but from abrother who has set himself to hound a brother to death, never. Nevermind. Your money's safe now. Have me hung as soon as you like; thesooner the better for me. "

Roger, stupefied and stung to the quick by these taunts, winced asthough he and not the speaker were the miscreant. He looked almostappealingly at his accuser, and tried to speak to justify himself, butthe words refused to come. 

Suddenly he seemed to detect in the prisoner's eye some new sinisterpurpose. 

"Take care, Armstrong; take care!" he cried, and flung himself betweenthe two. 

It was not an instant too soon. With his free hand Ratman had contrivedwhile talking to reach unheeded a pocket, from which he suddenly whippeda pistol, and, pounding on his captor, fired. 

The shot was badly and wildly aimed at the tutor's face. Even at soshort a distance it might have missed its mark altogether. Roger'ssudden intervention, however, found it an unexpected target. The lad'sup-flung hand caught the pistol at the moment it went off, and receivedin its palm the ball which had been intended for his friend. 

The sight of this untoward accident completely unnerved the prisoner. He sullenly let the weapon drop from his fingers, and with the air of agambler who has played and lost his last stake, sank listlessly on thesofa on which not ten minutes before he had been sleeping. 

"Luck's against me, " he said with an oath. "Look to the boy; I shan'ttrouble you any more. I've done him harm enough without this. I wishI'd never heard of his elder brother. "

The tutor, busy binding up his ward's hand, only half heard the words;but Roger, amidst all his pain, heard it and looked up. 

"Then you are not my brother?" he said faintly. 

"Brother? No. And if you hadn't left the papers about in your room ayear ago I should never have known it was worth my while to pretend it. "

When, a few moments later, Gustav entered with two constables, MrRatman welcomed the visitors with a sigh almost of relief, and placedhimself quietly in their hands. As he passed the chair where Roger sat, half faint with pain and loss of blood, he stopped a moment and said--

"Your brother! No. If I had been I shouldn't have come to this. "

About ten days later a small party was gathered in Roger's cosy den atMaxfield. 

The young Squire was there, with his hand in a sling, still pale andweak, but able to sit up on the sofa and enjoy for the first time thesociety of a few choice friends. Among those friends it was notsurprising to find Rosalind. That young lady had recently exchanged theduties of governess at the Vicarage for those of temporary sick-nurse atthe manor-house, and to-night, in her simple mourning, with a flush ofpleasure on her cheek as now and again she turned her eyes to thepatient whose recovery did her care such credit she looked--at leastRoger, an impartial witness, thought so--more beautiful than ever. Butas Roger made the same discovery every time he and his nurse met, theopinion may be regarded as of relative value. Tom was there, enjoyinghimself as usual, indeed rather more than usual, because in the stablehard by, munching his oats, was a horse (the gift of the Squire) whoowned him, Tom, as lord and master. Jill was there too, a littlepensive as she looked round for some one who was not there, but tryinghard to enjoy herself and seem glad. Besides these intimates there wasMr Headland, feeling like a father to everybody; Dr Brandram, inprofessional attendance; and the Vicar himself, accidentally present tocongratulate his young parishioner on his recovery. 

The absentee of the evening was Mr Armstrong, who had gone to Londonthe previous day on matters connected with the approaching assizes. 

"I wish Armstrong was here, " said Tom. "Won't he open his eye when hesees `Crocodile'!"

"Crocodile" was the name of the horse before mentioned. 

"It hardly seems like a party without him, " said Jill, blushing alittle. 

"You were telling us about the letter written at sea, " said the vicar. "Of course, you heard nothing of the ship in London?"

"Yes, I did, " said Roger. "After no end of disappointment, Armstrongsuggested telegraphing to the post-master at Havana, off which theletter was written, you know, and we heard that there had been a shipcalled the `Cyclops' ten years ago trading between the West Indies andCeylon, but that nothing was known of any one of the name of Ingleton. "

Rosalind looked up suddenly. 

"Ceylon and the West Indies?" exclaimed she. "Roger, did Mr Armstrongnever tell you a story he once told me of a shark adventure whichhappened to him when he was a sailor on a ship trading between Ceylonand the West Indies?"

The sudden silence which followed this inquiry was only broken by a lowwhistle of wonder from Tom. 

Roger, with a flush of colour on his pale cheeks, sat up and said, "Whatis the story?"

Rosalind told it as nearly as possible in the tutor's own words. 

"He did not tell you the name of the ship?" asked the doctor. 

"No. "

"Or the name of the man who was killed?"

"No. "

There was another silence; it seemed as if they were sitting aswitnesses to the completion of some curious tunnelling operation, whenthe party on one side suddenly catches sound of the pick-axe stroke ofthe party on the other. Step by step the lost Roger Ingleton had beentracked forward to the deck of this West India trading-ship; andbackward, step by step, the tutor's history went, till it almost touchedthe same point. 

"I expect, " said Tom, with a cheerfulness hardly in accord with thespirits of the company generally, "the fellow who was had by the sharkwas the one, and Armstrong never knew it. "

The profound young man had dropped on the very idea which was present inthe minds of each one. 

"Wal, " said the American mayor, "it may be so; but the question I'masking myself is this: If so, it's singular Mr Armstrong did notmention the coincidence when you got the cablegram. "

"Oh, " said Roger, "at the time I was so cut up to find I'd failed afterall, that I didn't care to talk; and directly after that we met Ratman. He had no chance. "

"I calculate I'd like to ask your tutor one or two pertinent questions, "said the Mayor. 

The meeting was fully with him, when Tom broke out again--

"I say, I know. Let's ask Gustav. He's no end chummy with Armstrong. He might know a thing or two. He's the chap I told you about atChristy's minstrels, " continued Master Tom, warming up at the genialreminiscence. 

"Is that the French waiter down-stairs who helped bring you down fromLondon?" asked the doctor. 

"Yes. I'm keeping him here as valet for the present. Armstrongmentioned, I remember, that he knew him. "

"Ring him up, " said Tom. 

Gustav appeared, all smiles and shrugs and compliments. 

"_Eh bien_! my good gentleman, " said he, "I am 'appy to see you well. Iwas _mortifie_ for your mishap; but Mademoiselle--ah, Mademoiselle!"--here he raised his fingers gracefully to his lips--"ze angel step inwhere ze _pauvre garcon_ may not walk. You could not but be well with anurse so _charmante_. Ah, my friend, 'ow 'appy will be my good, kindfriend when he return!"

"You mean Mr Armstrong. Have you known him long?" asked Roger. 

"_Pardieu_! Ten, fifteen, twenty year; I know not how long. He isbrother to me, your kind governor. He is to the _pauvre pere_ a son, and to the _petite Francoise_--_ah! quelle est morte_!"

"What was the name of your father?" demanded Roger, his hand tighteningon Rosalind's as he spoke. 

"Ah, Monsieur! a poor name; he is called like me, Gustav Callot. "

The poor valet was thunderstruck by the sensation which his simple wordscaused. Surely the English gentlemen and ladies are beautifullisteners; no one ever paid him so much attention in his own country. 

The American mayor took up the examination. 

"I reckon, " drawled he, "that young man did not go by the name ofArmstrong when you knew him. "

"Ah, no! He has many names, my good, kind friend. It was MonsieurRogers when we knew his finest. Ah! he act the comedy beautiful! Thenwhen to came to cherish the _pauvre pere_ in Paris, and mourn with himthe death of _la petite Francoise_, he call himself by our poor name. Ah! gentlemen, he was good to us. All he save at `L'Hotel Soult' heshare with us--and _apres_ from the sea he even send us pay. "

"What was his ship, do you remember?"

"Shall I forget? He told us it had but one eye, and called itself`Cyclops' Ah! _mes amis_, " continued Gustav, delighted with his audienceand amazed at his own oratorical gifts, "he was much changed when I sawhim next. 'Tis six, seven, eight years since. The beard is all shorn, the curl is cut off, the eye looks through a glass, and thelaugh--_helas_! gentlemen, the gay laugh of the boy Rogers is turned tothe knit brow of the great man Armstrong. "

The company had had enough of elocution for one evening, and dismissedthe orator with flattering marks of consideration. 

The doctor and the vicar rose to go. Close friends of the family asthey were, even they were superfluous at a time like this. 

But the American mayor remained. 

"I guess, " said he, "my nephew--"

"Oh!" cried Jill, "then you are his uncle--dear, dear Mr Headland!" andthe little maid flung herself into the astonished gentleman's arms andrelieved her emotions with a flood of tears. 

"Seems to me, " said he, looking down and kindly patting the fair head, "my nephew's a hundred miles too far away at this minute. "

American mayors are not as a rule endowed with gifts of prophecy, but itseemed as if there was an exception to the rule in the case of MrHeadland; for a moment later the door opened, and the tutor, eye-glasserect, and blissfully unconscious of the interest which his entryexcited, strolled jauntily in. 

"Ah, " said he, "you're still up, then. I just caught the last--"

He stopped short, and the glass dropped abruptly from his eye. Rogerhad staggered to his feet and was standing with face aglow, stretchingout his hand. 

The tutor comprehended all. He advanced and placed his arm in that ofhis brother. 

"You have found him at last, then, old fellow?"

"Yes, and without your help. "

THE END.