SHADOWS BEFORE

XXIII HOW SMALL PORGES, IN HIS HOUR OF NEED, WAS DESERTED BY HIS UNCLE

XXIV IN WHICH SHALL BE FOUND MENTION OF A CERTAIN BLACK BAG

XXV THE CONSPIRATORS

XXVI HOW THE MONEY MOON ROSE

XXVII IN WHICH IS VERIFIED THE ADAGE OF THE CUP AND THE LIP

XXVIII WHICH TELLS HOW BELLEW LEFT DAPPLEMERE IN THE DAWN

XXIX OF THE MOON'S MESSAGE TO SMALL PORGES, AND HOW HE TOLD IT TO
BELLEW--IN A WHISPER

XXX HOW ANTHEA GAVE HER PROMISE

XXXI WHICH, BEING THE LAST, IS, VERY PROPERLY, THE LONGEST, IN THE BOOK

CHAPTER I

_Which, being the first, is, very properly, the shortest chapter in the
book_

When Sylvia Marchmont went to Europe, George Bellew being, at the same
time, desirous of testing his newest acquired yacht, followed her, and
mutual friends in New York, Newport, and elsewhere, confidently awaited
news of their engagement. Great, therefore, was their surprise when they
learnt of her approaching marriage to the Duke of Ryde.

Bellew, being young and rich, had many friends, very naturally, who,
while they sympathized with his loss, yet agreed among themselves, that,
despite Bellew's millions, Sylvia had done vastly well for herself,
seeing that a duke is always a duke,--especially in America.

There were, also, divers ladies in New York, Newport, and elsewhere, and
celebrated for their palatial homes, their jewels, and their daughters,
who were anxious to know how Bellew would comport himself under his
disappointment. Some leaned to the idea that he would immediately blow
his brains out; others opined that he would promptly set off on another
of his exploring expeditions, and get himself torn to pieces by lions
and tigers, or devoured by alligators; while others again feared greatly
that, in a fit of pique, he would marry some "young person" unknown, and
therefore, of course, utterly unworthy.

How far these worthy ladies were right, or wrong in their surmises, they
who take the trouble to turn the following pages, shall find out.

CHAPTER II

_How George Bellew sought counsel of his Valet_

The first intimation Bellew received of the futility of his hopes was
the following letter which he received one morning as he sat at
breakfast in his chambers in St. James Street, W.

MY DEAR GEORGE--I am writing to tell you that I like you so much that I
am quite sure I could never marry you, it would be too ridiculous.
Liking, you see George, is not love, is it? Tho