“No, it ain’t; not a bit of it. And it’s sure profits, quick returns; but-all-fired risk.”

“Well, let’s hear all about it.”

The other left the papers which he had been sorting, and, drawing his chair to the fire, began to lay out his scheme. And at last the dingy office grew shadowy, and the boy came in to know if he shouldn’t lock up.

“Yes,” assented Morkum. “Come along and dine somewhere, Claverton, and you shall tell me what you’ve been doing all this time. We can talk business to-morrow.”

The clocks were chiming a quarter to twelve as they separated at King’s Cross Station.

“Going to walk home, are you?” said the American, reflectively. “Queer city, this. Many a man disappears, and is never more heard of by his inquiring relatives.”

“It would be a precious risky job for any enterprising spirits to try and conceal my whereabouts. They’d get hurt,” answered Claverton, with a meaning laugh.

“That’s right,” said the other, approvingly. “Never have your hand far from your coat-pocket, and you’ll do. Good-night.”

The wind howls dismally round a cosy old country rectory on this gloomy March evening, but, within, all is snugness and warmth. From one well-lighted room comes a sound of many cheerful voices; but passing by this, let us take a look into the library, where sits a girl all alone. She is a lovely girl, as far as we can see by the uncertain firelight, and may be nineteen or twenty. Her well-shaped head is crowned with an abundance of soft, dark hair, tinted with strange lights as the flickering glow plays upon it. Her sweet, lustrous eyes are gazing pensively at the clock on the mantelpiece, while the rain rolls in gusts against the old-fashioned casement.

“Past six. Uncle George should be back by now. The train must be late. Ah, there he is!” as the sound of wheels is audible on the gravel outside.

She hears the occupants of the other room rush to the front door to welcome their father; but with a hasty kiss all round, the rector goes straight to the library.

“Here I am, Uncle George,” says the girl, meeting him in the doorway, for she heard him inquiring for her. “But do go and change first, you must be very wet.”

“No, I’m not, my dear; not in the least. Come in here and shut the door; I want to tell 

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