CHAPTER XXII.

A SUMMONS.

EFORE our guests departed, Briggs the butler

BEFOR

came up to me in a mysterious and confidential manner, and put a note into my hand. It was, to my surprise, from Mrs Carrington, and contained only a few words, asking me to ride over in the morning, as an unpleasant incident had occurred, on which she wished for my advice. I went down-stairs, and saw the groom, who said that a photographer had been there the day before, and had frightened his mistress, who was far from well in consequence. I wrote to say I should certainly be at Bonthron next day; and returned to the drawing-room much wondering what could be the matter.

Our guests took their departure soon afterwards. Dagentree continued his attentions to the end, with a kind of reckless shyness; and Sophia, who had shown herself a well-bred, sensible, unaffected girl, received his homage with simplicity, but certainly with pleasure.

"Good night, Mr Pemberton; we have had a charming evening in the hermitage."

"Shall I tell your fortune, Miss Wendover?" said I.

"No. You are no conjurer. So, good night; and do come and see us again before you go back to your sulky chambers."

"If I possibly can, and vanquish the curate."

They departed, and I, turning to Dagentree, said, in his own words, "Thank God, that is over."

"Ah," he said, "one evening is not like a fortnight."

No, but one evening is the beginning of a fortnight, and something more, as I think this one is. But I am too much disturbed to sympathise in your access of levity." And I showed him Mrs Carring

ton's note.

66 I suppose you mean to go?"

"Yes," I said; "there is plainly no chance for me at Wendover."

"Good night," he said, with appalling gravity; lighted his candle, and disappeared.

After breakfast, next morning, I rode over to Bonthron, as Mrs Carrington had asked me. I found, on my arrival, singular marks of disturbance on the part of the household. I was shown into a sombre sittingroom, the windows of which were almost wholly

obscured by the branches of a huge walnut-tree, and a considerable time elapsed before Mrs Carrington made her appearance.

When she arrived she looked even handsomer than she had done on the previous evening, but care-worn and harassed. She greeted me very pleasantly, and began at once on the subject on which she had sent for me.

It is not easy for me to explain, Mr Pemberton, why I have asked for your help, rather than for that of a more experienced and older man."

So.

I expressed my great satisfaction that it should be Not indeed without reason. Such a client might be the making of my fortune. She, womanlike, took it otherwise.

"Don't make fine speeches to me, or I shall think I am mistaken in you. But your conversation the other night made me hope you would be discreet and friendly; and I appeal to you, I tell you frankly, because I cannot help it."

I bowed, corrected, and waited. "To tell you the truth, Mr Pemberton, we are here in greater trouble than when I wrote to you last night. Our house has been broken into, and my title-deeds have been ransacked and tampered with. How much has been carried off I don't yet know. inexplicable. The worst of it

But the story is very all is, that there is the

strongest reason to suspect that old Briggs, the butler at Dagentree, had something to do with it."

"Briggs! I cannot think that possible."

Well, it does not sound probable, certainly. But still it seems he was seen to run across the hall, and clamber out by the window."

Running and clambering are not exactly what I should have suspected Briggs of doing," I suggested. 66 I do not know him. But my footman was startled about three in the morning by hearing a step in the room above him. He got up, and on opening the door which opens to the corridor, he saw a light from a room at the other end. The door creaked, and the light was instantly extinguished; but the footman, hurrying to the place, distinctly saw, in the moonlight, a figure, which he declares was that of Briggs, running across the hall. He knows him well, and is sure it was he. He instantly gave the alarm, and ran down-stairs in hopes of intercepting him, but he had disappeared."

"But was there not something about the photographer in the morning?"

"Yes. That is really the part of the matter about which I wished to speak with you. You remember the conversation we had on the subject of your photographic friend. Well, he came up here yesterday, and, to my extreme agitation and astonishment, I

recognised in his features a person I had known before, and under very unpleasant circumstances. He was not disguised. I think he meant me to

recognise him, and he probably had come for the purpose."

Her voice faltered a little; and some strange misty suspicions began to creep over me, for I had seen this man in more than one singular aspect in the course of this eventful week, and in every instance under circumstances rather unusual.

"It is very painful, Mr Pemberton," she said; "but I am a woman, and alone, with a secret which poisons my life, and threatens my boy. I must have some one to tell it to; because only so can I escape from it, and you, I believe, will at least be trustworthy. You know, I suppose, that my husband is dead. Carrington, however, was not my married name. My husband's name was Trench, and he died more than two years ago in America."

I sat like one stupefied; for this was the name of the fair vision at Amiens, and this was the name I had seen on the letter which the artist showed me. "A very strange coincidence!" I muttered, halfunconsciously.

"What is the coincidence, Mr Pemberton? Your looks agitate me."

"I beg pardon. But I lately heard the name in