little doubt he was stopping
at his uncle's, and you know that is close to Swainson."

Lawyer Ball thought things were becoming clearer--or darker, whatever
you may please to call it. He paused again, and then put a question
impressively.

"James, have you any doubt whatever, or shadow of doubt, that Sir
Francis Levison is the same man you know as Thorn?"

"Sir, have I any doubt that you are Mr. Ball, or that I am Eb. James?"
retorted Mr. Ebenezer. "I am as certain of that man's identity as I am
of yours."

"Are you ready to swear to that fact in a court of justice?"

"Ready and willing, in any court in the world. To-morrow, if I am called
upon."

"Very well. You may go back to your singing club now. Keep a silent
tongue in your head."

"All close, sir," answered Mr. Ebenezer James.

Far into the middle of the night sat Lawyer Ball and Richard Hare, the
former chiefly occupied in taking notes of Richard's statement.

"It's half a crochet, this objection of Carlyle's to interfere with
Levison," suddenly uttered Richard, in the midst of some desultory
conversation. "Don't you think so, Mr. Ball?"

The lawyer pursed up his lips. "Um! A delicate point. Carlyle was always
fastidiously honorable. _I_ should go at him, thunder and fury, in his
place; but I and Carlyle are different."

The following day, Tuesday, Mr. Ball was much occupied, putting, to use
nearly Ebenezer James' words, that and that together. Later in the day
he took a journey to Levison Park, ferreted out some information, and
came home again. On that same day, at evening, Richard departed for
Liverpool--he was done with for the present--Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle being,
as before, alone cognizant of his address.

Wednesday morning witnessed the arrival again of the Earl of Mount
Severn. Lord Vane, too. The latter ought to have gone back to Eton, but
he had teased and prayed to be allowed to "see the fun out," meaning the
election. "And that devil's discomfiture when he finds himself beaten,"
he surreptitiously added, behind his father's back, who was a great
stickler for the boy's always being "gentlemanly." So the earl had
yielded. They arrived, as before, about breakfast-time, having traveled
all night. Subsequently, they and Mr. Carlyle walked into West Lynne
together.

West Lynne was alive and astir. The election was to come off that
week, and people made it their business to be in a bustle over it,
collectively and individually. Mr. Carlyle's