cious order, not to say-if a genuine quotation from the servant's hall may be permitted-a promiscuous abnormality.

The physiognomy of Sir John, however, lent itself at once to any sort of society, high or low. We who are acquainted with his antecedents can state that his origin was of the most vile, that the associations of his early years were brutalising and sinister, and that all his life he had profited by crime, although he was never known, by men in Soho who are cognisant of everything, to have personally engaged in its actual perpetration. The scandal in high life which had ended so disastrously for a Spanish hidalgo who had settled in Mayfair, had commended the Montmorency Vane who had the intrigue with the hidalgo's wife to the most favourable notice of the enterprising firm of Clements and Company. That distinguished Spaniard had espoused an American beauty-indeed, the "belle" of Boston; and really a very handsome and widely illeducated young lady-who had thrown over an ingenuous townsman (the Presbyterian auctioneer, who afterwards committed suicide) . for the sake of a Castilian invalid and title. When she took her walks in Hyde Park, Montmorency Vane would follow at a distance; sometimes a copy of verses, written upon vellum stamped with a coatof-arms, would reach her by the post. From her window she had occasionally detected him watching her residence with the jealousy of true love. He would shroud himself in a dark mantle, and pose in the attitude of the mysterious stranger. He told her subsequently that he had royal blood in his veins. Montmorency Vane turned out to be Vine, alias Grainger. He was not a party to the divorce suit, but in the impounded correspondence there were notes which bore his name and seal. It proved a

great shock to the "belle" of Boston who had jilted the Presbyterian auctioneer-a young man of great promise and fine prospects, and the support of his mother and sisters-to find that her own maid had formed the veritable attraction. Through her own maid the mysterious stranger knew of all her movements; and it was a humiliation from which she never recovered to learn that "her purse, not her person"-as her counsel declaimed afterwards, tautophonically but with noble indignation—had been the object of his persistent siege. But it would be of no use denying it: about Vine, alias Grainger, or "Sir John," there was a something which imposed upon the wisest among the fair. Wherever he went, the sex were gracious with him; and he hardly went anywhere without turning to pecuniary account this gracious disposition of the sex. He would borrow the savings of a lady's-maid, or steal them from her; or he would live in a magnificent manner for a week or two upon an instalment of hush-money extorted from her mistress.

In London, people usually found it so difficult to "place" Vine, alias Grainger, that they often transferred their attention to his immediate neighbours as a means of making up their minds with reference to himself. You might have taken him, in London, for a music-hall vocalist, or a billiard-marker; for a betting-man, or a professional philanthropist; a bill discounter, or a noble viscount who, with no money in his pocket, no balance at the bank, and not even a few blank cheques to show in a deceptive cheque-book, goes behind the scenes of theatres and invites the chorus-girls or ballet-dancers to supper. Vine, alias Granger, fitted into Parisian life quite naturally. In Paris he would at once become an excellent type of the Continental loafer who talks international politics with

the bias of John Bull, and never learns the language of the country. Only card-sharpers would have played écarté with him on a first acquaintance. And yet there are men of the same external type in Continental cities upon whom mistrust would constitute a keen injustice: perfectly honest gentlemen-the cousins or brothers-in-law of wealthy British residents-who subsist upon the charity of their relatives and are not to be surprised in any species of indecorous act. As for Sir John, he might have had no polish, but he used an impenetrable veneer. He could put on a dazzling show of gentility, and had always found it answer; gentility being, upon the whole, more advantageous to the individual than refinement. At any rate, the ladies were always prepossessed in his favour--especially those who prided themselves upon their gifts of penetration.

When grandpa arrived at the Hôtel Clifton with his charges, the damsel who presided over the small countinghouse had only just descended. The raw air made its way in with the three visitors, and the damsel gazed upon. them at first not too pleasantly.

Mr. Byers reminded the young person that he had engaged an apartment on the first floor for a couple of friends who had just come up from Italy. It was a doublebedded room, and his two friends, who had travelled for some days unbrokenly, would wish for absolute quiet. Until they got over their excessive fatigue, and felt a little better in health-the doctors had forbidden them to travel northwards, but the demands of business were imperious-they would prefer to take their meals privately, in their apartment. Breakfast might be served at the ordinary hour, but in the meantime mademoiselle would send them up hot grogs.

Mademoiselle seemed to have intended to receive the strangers haughtily-these foreign travellers presumed upon their wealth. She thawed, however, beneath the casual glance of Sir John, and informed him, responding to Mr. Byers, that everything should be done that could possibly be done to secure them comfort and tranquillity.

The first proceeding of Mr. Finch, on their installing themselves in the apartment on the first-floor, was to look out of the window and estimate the distance of the drop. Mr. Byers examined the recesses and tested the walls. Satisfied that they were secure from any risk of being overheard, Mr. Byers dragged a chair up to the mantelpiece, and warmed himself at the log fire.

"Now, John," said he, "there must be no reticences in this affair, you know. Let us have the remainder of the story, just as it happened, nothing more and nothing less. Whatever it is, out with it. If you've gone farther in this than we like, we can back out, can't we, and say no more about it? We're men of business: you're safe with me, and I'm safe with you. You've taken me up to the last stoppage but one. At Amiens you had made up your mind to get the property between Creil and Paris? Is that it?"

"That's it, grandpa," confirmed Mr. Finch.

"Well," began Vine, alias Grainger, slowly, "I dare say you'll want to wash your hands of this business, Byers, when you've heard how it stands. As for Bat, if I am implicated, he's implicated too. Appearances might be against us at a pinch, but, after all, there's nothing they could prove. If you left us, Byers, if you said you would have nothing more to do with it, I shouldn't be surprised; but I know we should be safe with you."

"My character ought to be pretty well-known by this

time, I should hope," returned Mr. Byers distantly. "I've done business with as many hard-working thieves as anybody, and I should like to know who could have sent men to penal servitude if I couldn't—and some of them richly deserved it for their ingratitude; but I bear no malice, and I remembered their wives and families. Safe with me! What do you say, Bat?"

"I say that I want Mr. clever Sir John to tell me without any more palaver what the - I'm 'implicated' in, that's what I say," growled Bartholomew.

"Perhaps you'll blame me for what has happened?" resumed the other. "It was no fault of mine. How could I know? You're well off that I changed my mind at the last moment; if I had kept to the original arrangement, you might have been in this condition, too!" He took out his handkerchief, and contemplated the stains of blood for an instant, without any signs of emotion. "My plan was for Bat, here, to follow me along the step into the compartment where Remington had gone. It was very easy; the night was pitch dark; there were only a few people in the train; Remington had a secondclass ticket, and could not be more than three or four compartments along; he had been endeavouring to get a compartment to himself ever since we left Calais, and could hardly keep his eyes open; and by trying it after Creil, the last stoppage, we ran a good chance of finding him half asleep. I may want to cut things short sometimes, but no one can accuse me of ever mixing myself up with violence. I did not desire any violence; I detest violence. If the boys would take a leaf out of my book, they wouldn't be sent to 'penal' quite so often, I can tell you, or be settled by the black cap, leaving their families to go upon the parish rates."