of a shirt-cuff which was spotlessly clean; she remembered that the short trimness of his hair had struck her as inappropriate from the first. Then his voice. On this second day, a certain gruffness, which he had kept up on the first, quite disappeared; she had been surprised to find him expressing himself like an English gentleman. Moreover, she now recalled a momentary drawing back when she offered the money.

“I am glad I paid him; I am glad he had that to go through!” cried Kitty, with burning cheeks, and a longing to heap some humiliation on his head. “He must have hated it. I wonder what he did with the money?”

If Kitty had known, her cheeks would certainly have burnt more fiercely still; for Everitt had, with painful efforts, himself sewn up the money in a little case, and painted outside it the initials “K.L.” and a date.

This little case he will carry with him always—till his death.

Chapter Five.

Consequences.

Everitt made his way home in happy unconsciousness of the discovery that followed his departure. To tell the truth, he troubled himself less than he might have done—for he was not without suspicions that Miss Aitcheson had penetrated his disguise further than he liked—because his thoughts were running persistently on one subject: how to see Miss Lascelles again, and quickly.

The most direct way was to get hold of Mrs Marchmont, and induce her to take him; but he had the grace to determine that, in telling her his wishes, he would tell her all, and be guided by her advice. If she were in favour of a frank confession, he was quite ready to undertake it. It must be owned that he did not imagine that in personating the disreputable Italian he had committed a very unpardonable fault; he did not, at any rate, so imagine it now, when it appeared to hint he had been far more inexcusable in suggesting that such a model as Giuseppe should sit for Kitty Lascelles.

He would go to Mrs Marchmont that afternoon.

So full was he of these thoughts that he neglected precautions, and very nearly blundered into the arms of the irrepressible Jack, who was diverting himself by strolling up and down the passage, and imparting a more truculent expression to the countenance of a grimy marble lion which stood on guard. He came into Everitt’s studio by-and-by with his curiosity very much alive.

“Hill swears no 

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