'You do not think I was aware of the earl's mistake, then?' Lindo said, with a faint smile.

'I should as soon believe that I knew of it myself!' Jack replied warmly. He was glad now that he had come. As he and Lindo stood half facing one another, each with an elbow on the mantelshelf, he felt that he could conquer the chill at his own heart—that, notwithstanding all, his old friend was still dear to him. Perhaps if the rector had been prospering as before, if no cloud had arisen in his sky, it might have been different. As it was, Jack's generous heart went out to him. Tell me what happened, old fellow,' he said cheerily that is, if you have no objection to taking me into your confidence.'

'I shall be only too glad of your help,' Lindo answered thankfully, feeling indeed-so potent is a single word of sympathy— happier already. 'I would ask you to sit down, Jack,' he continued, in a tone of rather sheepish raillery, ‘and have a cup of coffee or some whisky, but I do not know whether I ought to do so, since Lord Dynmore says the things are not mine.'

'I will take the responsibility,' the lawyer answered, briskly ringing the bell. 'Was my lord very rude?'

'Confoundedly!' the rector answered. And then he told his story. Jack was surprised to find him more placable than he had expected; but presently he learned that this moderation was assumed. For the rector rose as he went on, and began to pace the room, and, the motion freeing his tongue, he betrayed little by little the indignation and resentment which he really felt. Jack happened to ask him, with a view to clearing the ground, whether he had quite made up his mind not to resign, and was astonished by the force and anger with which he repudiated the thought of doing so. 'Resign? No, never!' he cried, standing still, and almost glaring at his companion. Why should I? 'Why should I? What have I done? Was it my mistake, that I am to suffer for it? Was it my fault, that for penalty I am to have the tenour of my life broken? Do you think I can go back to the Docks the same man I left them? I cannot. Nor is that all, or nearly all,' he added still more warmly- I have been called a swindler and an impostor. Am I by resigning to plead guilty to the charge?'

"No!' Jack cried, catching fire himself, 'certainly not! I did not intend for a moment to advise that course, my dear fellow. I think you would be acting very foolishly if you resigned under these circumstances.'

'I am glad of that,' the rector said, sitting down with a sigh of relief. 'I feared you did not quite enter into my feelings.'

'I do thoroughly enter into them,' the barrister answered earnestly, but I want to do more—I want to help you. You must not go into this business blindly, old man. And, first, I think you ought to take the archdeacon or some other clergyman into your confidence. Show him the whole of your case, I mean, and

'And act upon his advice?' the young rector said, rebellion already flashing in his eye.

6

'No, not necessarily,' the barrister answered, skilfully adapting his tone to the irritability of his patient. Of course your bona fides at the time you accepted the living is the point of importance to you, Lindo. You did not see their solicitors-the earl's people, I mean-did you?'

'No,' the rector answered somewhat sullenly.

'Then their letters conveyed to you all you knew of the living and the offer?'

'Precisely.'

'Let us see them, then,' replied Jack, rising briskly from his chair. He had already determined to say nothing of the witness whom Mr. Bonamy had mentioned to him as asserting that the rector had bribed him. He knew enough of his friend to utterly disbelieve the story, and he considered it as told to him in confidence. There is no time like the present,' he continued. have kept the letters, of course?'

You

"They are here,' Lindo answered, rising also, and unlocking as he spoke the little cupboard among the books; 'I made them into a packet and indorsed them soon after I came. They have been here ever since.'

He found them after a moment's search, and, without himself examining them, threw them to Jack, who had returned to his seat. The barrister untied the string and, glancing quickly at the dates of the letters, arranged them in order and flattened them out on his knee. Now,' he said, 'number one! That I think I have seen before.' He mumbled over the opening sentences, and turned the page. 'Hallo!' he exclaimed, holding the letter from him, and speaking in a tone of surprise-almost of consternation- how is this?'

'What?' said the rector.

'You have torn off the latter part of this letter? Why on earth did you do that?'

'I never did,' Lindo answered incredulously. Obeying Jack's gesture he came, and, standing by his chair, looked over his shoulder. He saw then that part of the latter half of the sheet had been torn off. The signature and the last few words of the letter were gone. He looked and wondered. 'I never did it,' he said positively, 'whoever did. You may be sure of that.'

'You are certain ? '

"Absolutely certain,' the rector answered with considerable warmth. I remember arranging and indorsing the packet. I am quite sure that this letter was intact then, for I read each one through. That was a few evenings after I came here.'

'Have you ever shown the letters to anyone?' Jack asked suspiciously.

'Never,' said the rector; "they have not been removed from this cupboard, to my knowledge, since I put them there.'

'Think!' Jack rejoined, pressing his point steadily. 'I want you to be quite sure. You see this letter is rendered utterly worthless by the mutilation. Indeed, to produce it would be to raise a natural suspicion that the last sentence of the letter not being in our favour, we had got rid of it. Of course the chances are that the earl's solicitors have copies, but for the present that is not our business.'

'Well,' said the rector somewhat absently-he had been rather thinking than listening-'I do remember now a circumstance which may account for this. A short time after I came a man broke into the house and ransacked this cupboard. Possibly he did it.'

A burglar, do you mean? Was he caught?' the barrister. asked, figuratively pricking up his ears.

'No-or, rather, I should say yes,' Lindo answered. And then he explained how his curate, taking the man red-handed, had let him go, in the hope that, as it was his first offence, he would take warning and live honestly.

'But who was the burglar?' Jack inquired. You know, I suppose? Is he in the town now?'

'Clode never told me his name,' Lindo answered. "The man made a point of that, and I did not press for it. I remember that Clode was somewhat ashamed of his clemency.'

'He had need to be,' Jack snorted. It sounds an extraordinary story. All the same, Lindo, I am not sure it has any connection with this.' He held the letter up before him as though

drawing inspiration from it. This letter, you see,' he went on presently, being the first in date would be inside the packet. Why should a man who wanted perhaps a bit of paper for a spill or a pipe-light unfasten this packet and take the innermost letter? I do not believe it.'

'But no one else save myself,' Lindo urged, has had access to the letter. And there it is torn.'

'Yes, here it is torn,' Jack admitted, gazing thoughtfully at it; 'that is true.'

For a few moments the two sat silent, Jack fingering the letter, Lindo with his eyes fixed gloomily on the fire. Suddenly the latter broke out without warning or preface: 'What a fool I have been!' he exclaimed, his tone one of abrupt overwhelming conviction. Good heavens, what a fool I have been !'

His friend looked at him in surprise, and saw that his face was crimson. 'Is it about the letter?' he asked, leaning forward, his tone sharp with professional impatience. You do not mean to say, Lindo, that you really’

'No, no!' the young clergyman replied, ruthlessly interrupting him. It has nothing to do with the letter.'

He said no more, and Jack waited for further light; but none came, and the barrister reapplied his thoughts to the problem before him. He had only just hit upon a new idea, however, when he was again diverted by an interruption from Lindo. 'Jack,' said the latter impressively, 'I want you to give a message for

me.'

'Not a cartel to Lord Dynmore, I hope?' the barrister muttered. 'No,' the rector answered, getting up and poking the fire unnecessarily what a quantity of embarrassment has been liberated before now by means of pokers!-' no, I want you to give a message to your cousin-Miss Bonamy, I mean.' The rector paused, the poker still in his hand, and stole a sharp glance at his companion; but, reassured by the discovery that he was to all appearance buried in the letter, he continued: "Would you mind telling her that I am sorry I misjudged her a short time backshe will understand-and behaved, I fear, very ungratefully to her? She warned me that there was a rumour afloat that something was amiss with my title, and I am afraid I was very rude to her. I should like you to tell her, if you will, that I-that I am particularly ashamed of myself,' he added, with a gulp.

He did not find the words easy of utterance-far from it; but

the effort they cost him was slight and trivial compared with that which poor Jack found himself called upon to make. For a moment, indeed, he was silent, his heart rebelling against the task assigned to him. To carry his message to her! Then his nobler self answered to the call, and he spoke. His words, 'Yes, I'll tell her,' came, it is true, a little late, in a voice a trifle thick, and were uttered with a coldness which Lindo would have remarked had he not been agitated himself. But they came-at a price. The Victoria Cross for moral courage can seldom be gained by a single act of valour. Many a one has failed to gain it who had strength enough for the first blow. Yes, I will tell her,' Jack repeated a few seconds later, folding up the letter and laying it on the table, but so contriving that his face was hidden from his friend. 'Tomorrow will do, I suppose?' he added, the faintest tinge of irony in his tone. He may be pardoned if he thought the apology he was asked to carry came a little late.

'Oh, yes, to-morrow will do,' Lindo answered with a start; he had fallen into a reverie, but now roused himself. I am afraid you are very tired, old fellow,' he continued, looking gratefully at his friend. A friend in need is a friend indeed, you know. I cannot tell you'—with a sigh-how very good I think it was of you to come to me.'

'Nonsense!' Jack said briskly. It was all in the day's work. As it is, I have done nothing. And that reminds me,' he continued, facing his companion with a smile-what of the trouble between my uncle and you? About the sheep, I mean. have put it in some lawyers' hands, have you not?'

'Yes,' Lindo answered reluctantly.
"Quite right, too,' said the barrister.
"Turner & Grey, of Birmingham.'

'Who are they?'

You

"Well, I will write,' Jack answered, if you will let me, and tell them to let the matter stand for the present. I think that will be the best course. Bonamy won't object.'

'But he has issued a writ,' the rector explained. A writ seemed to him a formidable engine. As well dally before the mouth of a cannon.

Jack, who knew better, smiled. The law's delays were familiar to him. He was aware of many a pleasant little halting-place between writ and judgment. Never mind about that,' he answered, with a confident laugh. Shall I settle it for you? I shall know better, perhaps, what to say to them.'