ton diplomatically. There is nothing serious the matter, however,' he went on, and most courteously he touched the brim of his hat in answer to Simonds' "Good-night, sir;' proving thereby he was, as that functionary said to Mrs. Larrup, 'quite the gentleman.'

Ah, my friends, the day is coming, and a good day it will prove, when you will all have to be 'quite the gentleman,' as well to your inferiors as your equals. The 'gentlemen' of old were gentlemen once, gentlemen always; and the gentlemen of the future will be compelled to revert to their splendid example.

A plain, and in some respects a rough, man, Doctor Dilton was loyal, honest, stanch. Also, he was tender withal, and from the very bottom of his soul he pitied Sir John Moffat. As a matter of course, his first and best sympathies were with Mr. Palthorpe ; but as he walked away from Holyrood House, and considered all that exposure and disgrace would mean to a man occupying so prominent a position, his heart sank within him, and he thanked Heaven it was not his hand that should deal the blow.

He understood something of the matter now. Knew that, whatever sin might have preceded the marriage, Sir John had tried to act fairly by a woman he believed a widow.

'Whatever wrong there has been,' he considered,' was her doing. Well, she will have to pay an awful penalty for it all ere long.'

When he reached his cousin's house, the servant said there was a lady waiting for him in the dining-room, and entering that apartment he found Miss Aggles.

I could not rest,' she began hurriedly, without coming round

to tell you what happened today. I have seen Mira.'

He could not help starting; it seemed as if all the parts of the terrible puzzle were fitting themselves together with no assistance save that of some mysterious Fate.

'Where?' he asked. 'How did you chance to come across her?' 'She called at our place.'

'She did what!' exclaimed Doctor Dilton, as though doubting the evidence of his senses.

Not knowing she was going to meet me, you may be sure of that,' answered Miss Aggles, with grim earnestness. 'She came with a Miss Banks to call. I happened to be in the drawing-room, when she walked in as unconcerned and assured as possible, splendidly dressed, looking haughty and insolent, and magnificently hand

some. O doctor, what a beautiful creature she is even now! And I can't tell, I am sure, how I knew her after all these years, but I did in a moment; and I was so amazed-so frightened indeed-I said "Mira," just like that, before I could think what I was doing.'

'And what did she say?' inquired Doctor Dilton.

'Not a word—not a syllable; she seemed to shrink and get smaller before my eyes; she lifted her hands this way,' and Miss Aggles held her own out before her as if to ward off some tangible foe, and backed, backed, Doctor Dilton, out of the room.'

'God bless me!' exclaimed the doctor; for Miss Aggles' account of the interview was graphic, and he could grasp all the horror such a meeting must have held for Thomas Palthorpe's faithless wife.

And what happened then?' he asked at last. Did you follow her?'

'No, I did not, I felt too much stunned; but Miss Banks did. She is a lithe active little wo

man, though elderly; and she ran down the stairs and out of the house, saying she feared dear Lady Moffat was ill.'

'Yes; anything more?'

'She returned in a few minutes, to apologise, as she said, for herself and friend. Dear Lady Moffat, the sweetest and most sensitive creature on earth, had been quite overcome with the sudden shock. "She tells me you nursed her,"' went on Miss Aggles, quoting Miss Banks.

And what did you answer?' asked Doctor Dilton, who was able to see the humour of the statement.

'It took me a little aback; but I said, "Well, yes, I certainly had nursed her."

'What occurred next?'

'Nothing much, I think. Miss Banks of course was inquisitive. She is not a nice person, I think; but she did not get any information out of me.'

There ensued a short silence; then Doctor Dilton asked,

'Have you told him? No need to particularise whom he meant by name.

Not yet. I am not sure that I shall. He came home thoroughly unnerved. He has found the-the-person-you know.' 'Yes, I know,' answered Doctor Dilton.

'And then what a horrible complication it makes, her being married; and to such a great gentleman, too! Who is Sir John Moffat?'

'Haven't a notion,' said Doctor Dilton.

'He is enormously rich, Miss Banks says,' went on Miss Aggles.

'She played her cards well, did she not?' remarked Doctor Dilton.

Miss Aggles shook her head mournfully.

'Such a tangle,' she said, 'such a tangle! And then there is Rachel, too. He tells me she is alive. Now, her father ought to claim her at any rate, ought he not?'

'He has waited a good many years,' observed Doctor Dilton dryly. dryly. I should imagine he could wait a few days longer.'

'And here is another trouble, too,' went on Miss Aggles. 'Mr. Lassils and Madge have to-day finally agreed not to marry.'

'Why not?' he asked. 'I understood Lassils, at all events, did not mean to give up hope for a long time yet.'

'He has found out she likes somebody else.'

'Who, in Heaven's name?' 'He says Mr. Palthorpe.' 'Good Lord!' ejaculated the doctor. 'You don't believe it, do you?'

'I am not sure,' said Miss Aggles dubiously. 'It never occurred to me till he mentioned it; but I am not sure now.'

'She has no idea he is married, I suppose?'

'It was not a matter we were likely to mention, I am sure,' continued poor Miss Aggles. 'What with one thing, and what with another, I feel as if I could not be in my right senses.'

CHAPTER XXXVII.

WAITING.

A MONTH passed quickly by, and still the world knew nothing of the true state of affairs at Holyrood House. From that night, when, without his dinner, and without the slightest warning or preparation, Sir John drove away from the door, he had never crossed its threshold. In the first instance he went to Paris; but

Simonds knew he had returned to London, and was to be found at his place of business in the City. If there had been a quarrel between himself and Lady Moffat, no servant about the house was cognisant of the fact; indeed, no ground existed for supposing any disagreement had occurred, for on the morning of the day in question, they had parted upon apparently perfectly friendly terms, and when he returned in the evening he did not see her.

The doctor was with her ladyship when Sir John passed hurriedly up the staircase; and he left the house, having, no doubt, Simonds and Winter decided, confided the cause of his sudden departure to Miss Rachel.

That it was all very odd the whole household agreed; but domestic opinion inclined to the belief that something had gone wrong about money.

A considerable number of large establishments were broken up about that period; the papers were full of frauds, failures, conspiracies, and vague rumours of further impending disasters; and, for his own part, Simonds could see no reason why his master should not 'go' as well as anybody else.

Very likely her ladyship had heard a hint about the matter when she was taken ill so suddenly; and, under any circumstances, there could be no doubt she and Sir John understood each other perfectly.

'He'll be found missing one fine morning, as Seaton was,' considered the butler, ' and she'll stop to save as much out of the wreck as she can.'

The whole atmosphere of the house was felt to be steeped in mystery. Lady Moffat, on pretence of ill health, would see no visitors. Yet Winter reported to

the kitchen detectives there was nothing the matter with her, save temper.

Directly after Sir John's departure, an old lady had called upon, and been closeted with, Lady Moffat for a couple of hours; and, in course of time, it became known to the servants this lady came from the house in Palace Gardens 'where the Australian people lived.'

Somehow, also, Mr. Simonds ascertained that an Australian gentleman had been at Sir John's office, and that he (Sir John) never seemed to be the same man since.'

'Depend upon it, there's losses,' said Mrs. Larrup oracularly; 'that's what it is-losses.'

I am quite of your opinion, cook,' agreed Miss Winter, flitting airily about the lower regions, and remarking from time to time she never had lived previously among people who were so precious close as the Moffats.

เ

They never let fall a word; and if she' (in the easy confidence of private life Winter referred to her mistress in the simple manner stated) 'does get a letter, she burns it away to white ash-she does, I assure you.'

'When folks as should be gentlefolks, and act according, begin to look after candle-endsas a person may consider pounds of meat is no more nor candleends to them,' remarked Mrs. Larrup, with genuine belief in her tone it does not need any conjurer to tell what is coming. I have always said, and I always will say, that if them as is set in high places keep their position proper, their position will keep them; but when they begin apoking and a-prying and a-questioning, and paying their own bills and disputing farthings, it looks bad, and it'll end bad; and,

though I may not be here to see it, mark my words.'

'I can't say I ever did think much of Sir John as a master,' capped Mr. Simonds disparagingly. 'There was no presence about him. I am sure, when he had guests here, I have often felt almost ashamed to see him sitting so dull and silent.'

Ah, if you had much to do with her, you'd only wish she would be silent,' said Winter. Of all the tempers I ever did come across-there, well, though I say it myself, I feel as if I must have been a saint to put up with such continual scolding and scolding and grumbling and airs and graces.'

'I wonder what's become of old Banks all this time,' marvelled Simonds; she ought to be in the thick of whatever is going to happen.'

'Mrs. Hemans told me on Sunday she is trying to keep Mr. Gayford's soul and body together. He has been very bad indeed with bronchitis,' explained Mrs. Larrup.

'She is a spiteful cat; but I will say this much for her, she takes good care of him,' observed Miss Winter. There is nothing he wants money can buy, Niel told me some time ago.'

'Then I am very certain she finds her interest in keeping him alive,' Simonds declared; a statement which found so much favour that a murmur of approval passed from lip to lip.

very brisk indeed; and every one agreed it was a pity some one did not tell Sir John; not, indeed, that it would much signify, if he 'smashed,' whom his younger daughter took up with.

In those days, the servants at Holyrood House had very little to do; the social atmosphere was oppressive, and they had plenty of leisure time to consider the shortcomings of shortcomings of those whose bread they ate, and to speculate concerning Sir John's sudden and unaccountable absence from his home.

As for Lady Moffat herself, she passed the hours in a long fever of dread and apprehension.

Everything was found out now, though the world still remained in ignorance of her antecedents. Sir John knew all about the cruel deceit she had practised, had nothing more to learn as regarded her perfect knowledge of her husband's safety.

When I remember all,' he wrote to her, not in anger, but in sorrow, the anguish you have seen me suffer, the travail of my soul over the man I believed dead, I feel I cannot-as if I never could-forgive you. But for that you will not care; all you desire is money, position. The last, even if I wished, I could no longer give you; as regards the former, I shall settle upon you a moderate, but sufficient, income. Your husband, I understand, intends to sue for a divorce; and, as I intend to sell Holyrood House, it will be easier and better for you either to go abroad or retire to some quiet watering place. I have not yet fully decided upon my future arrangements; but in any case the children will live with me.'

And he hinted that the sooner she could leave Holyrood House, and betake herself to the contem

plative life indicated in his letter, the better he would be pleased.

The

But she could not give up everything in a moment at his bidding -wealth, rank, considerationand sink into as total an obscurity as that from which he had raised her. To the world she was still Lady Moffat, to her children, to her servants; four people only knew her what she was; and she knew she could count on the silence of three of them. fourth-ah! she dreaded him. But if she could only defer the evil day a little longer, who knows what might happen? For his own sake Sir John would never make the matter public, never try to prove she was not legally his wife; whilst as regards the other, fifty things were possible; amongst them, that he might die.

She had no scheme in her mind about killing him; though violent, she was not made of the stuff out of which murderers are fashioned. And yet, given the opportunity, supposing a chance had presented itself of slipping that obnoxious first husband out of the world, it may be she would have helped him over the hardest part of his long journey with as little remorse or compunction as she had stolen Rachel from the true hearts that loved her.

Now it may indeed be said Rachel was her only hope. She thought it not impossible that, for the sake of his child, her husband might let the dead past lie; Sir John, she knew, could be moulded by the girl. The more she reflected, the more probable it seemed to her she might yet escape the full measure of the punishment she dreaded.

If she could still remain Lady Moffat, if the world could only be induced to believe she and Sir John were separated merely because of incompatibility of tem

per, if she could close Thomas Palthorpe's lips, why, then, although things might not be quite so well as they had been, still no one should hear her complain.

The more she thought about the matter, the more satisfied she felt Rachel was now her only rock of safety. If there were only some one in whom she could confide, some one with whom she could take counsel! Doctor Dilton? Yes, the very first opportu-. nity she would talk to him about the matter. How did it happen she had not thought of him before-knowing all the circumstances also?

But Doctor Dilton nipped her confidences in the bud.

'You have not seen my elder daughter yet?' she said one day, fixing him with an anxious unsmiling gaze, which yet was meant to be gracious and winning, and which he felt covered more than her words conveyed.

'No,' he answered shortly; ' and I don't want to see her. To be quite frank—’

'You never were anything else, I think,' she interrupted.

'I have no desire or intention of being mixed up with this business. I was called in to see you as Lady Moffat, and Lady Moffat, from a medical point of view, you remain to me.'

'But Rachel-' she began.

'Whatever you have got to say about her could be best said to her father, I should think,' he replied brusquely. I know pretty well what is in your mind, but it is of no use trying to take me into your confidence. I will have no say in the matter.'

Foiled here, Lady Moffat betook herself to her daughter, poor lonely Rachel, who was now, indeed, as desolate a maiden as could have been found in the length and breadth of London.