for him at home. 

That faithful servitor bustled about, stirring the fire and turning up the lights. Finally he nervously addressed his master: 

"Pardon me, sir, but there was a policeman here asking about you to-night, sir." 

"A policeman!" 

"Well, sir, a detective--Mr. White, of Scotland Yard. I knew him, sir, though he did not think it. He came about ten o'clock, and asked where you were." 

"Did you tell him?" 

"Well, sir," and Smith shifted from one foot to the other, "I thought it best to let him know the truth, sir." 

"Good gracious, Smith, he is not going to handcuff me. You did quite right. What did he say?" 

"Nothing, sir; except that he would call again. He wouldn't leave his name, but I know'd him all right." 

"Thank you. Good-night. It was unnecessary that you should have remained up. But I am obliged to you all the same." 

The barrister laughed as he went to his room. "Really," he said to himself, still highly amused, "White will cap all his previous feats by trying to arrest me. I suspect he has thought of it for a long time." 

And Mr. White had thought of it. 

CHAPTER XII 

WHO CORBETT WAS 

"Inexorable Fate!" is a favorite phrase with the makers of books; but Fate, being feminine according to the best authorities, is also somewhat fickle in disposition. Not only is she not invariably inexorable, but at times she delights to play with her poor subjects, to dazzle them with surprise, as it were, to stupefy them with the sense of their sheer inability to foresee or understand her vagaries. 

It was Bruce's turn to receive the sharpest lesson in this respect that he ever remembered. 

At breakfast the next morning he selected from a packet of unimportant letters one which required immediate attention. The financiers to whom he had written in conformity with his implied promise to Mr. Dodge had replied favorably with reference to the reconstruction of the Springbok Mine. 

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