fields, from there to the station, to catch the last train, without any one seeing us—don’t you remember?”

“Yes—yes, I remember,” replied the man. “I shan’t be late; till then—good-bye!”

He had turned away, and had gone some few paces down the road towards the village, when the girl called piteously after him.

“Dandy—you’re not going like that? Won’t you—won’t you kiss me?”

The man retraced his steps slowly. As, after a moment’s hesitation, he put an arm carelessly round her shoulders, and bent his face towards hers, he looked fully and strongly into her eyes; but there was no change in her expression—no faintest start of suspicion or doubt.

“That was a trial!” he muttered, when he had started again towards the village, and had left her standing in the road looking after him. “The likeness must be greater even than I suspected. Now to find Mr. Dandy Chater—or rather—to keep out of his way, until I know what his movements are.”

Coming, in the darkness, into the little village—a place consisting of one long straggling street of cottages, running up a hill—he found the road flanked on either side by a small inn. On the one side—the right hand—was the Chater Arms; on the other—the Bamberton Head. Standing between them, and looking up the long straggling street, Mr. Philip Crowdy could discern, in the distance, perched on rising ground, the outlines of a great house, with lights showing faintly here and there in its windows.

“That’s Chater Hall—evidently,” he said softly to himself. “Now the question is, where is Mr. Dandy Chater? Shall I go up to the Hall, and reconnoitre the position, or shall I try one of the inns? I think I’ll try one of the inns; if I happen to drop into the wrong one, and he’s there, I must trust to making a bolt for it; if he’s not there, I think the likeness will serve, and I may hear something which will be useful. Now, then—heads, right—tails, left!”

He spun a coin in the air—looked at it closely—returned it to his pocket—and turned to the left, into the Bamberton Head. Knowing that any sign of hesitation might mean his undoing, he thrust open a door which led into the little parlour, and boldly entered it. There were one or two men in the room, and a big surly-looking giant of a fellow, who appeared to be the landlord. The men exchanged glances which, to the man keenly watchful of every movement, seemed to be glances of surprise; the surly landlord put 

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