t too
late!"

"Yes, it is," said the baron. "Neither individuals nor nations ever go
back of their own accord. There must be an earthquake before a river
recedes to its source."

"You speak well," answered Randal, "and I cannot gainsay you. But now!"

"Ah, the now is the grand question in life, the then is obsolete, gone
by,--out of fashion; and now, mon cher, you come to ask my advice?"

"No, Baron, I come to ask your explanation."

"Of what?"

"I want to know why you spoke to me of Mr. Egerton's ruin; why you spoke
to me of the lands to be sold by Mr. Thornhill; and why you spoke to
me of Count Peschiera. You touched on each of those points within ten
minutes, you omitted to indicate what link can connect them."

"By Jove," said the baron, rising, and with more admiration in his face
than you could have conceived that face, so smiling and so cynical,
could exhibit,--"by Jove, Randal Leslie, but your shrewdness is
wonderful. You really are the first young man of your day; and I
will 'help you,' as I helped Audley Egerton. Perhaps you will be more
grateful."

Randal thought of Egerton's ruin. The parallel implied by the baron did
not suggest to him the rare enthusiasm of gratitude. However, he merely
said, "Pray, proceed; I listen to you with interest."

"As for politics, then," said the baron, "we will discuss that topic
later. I am waiting myself to see how these new men get on. The first
consideration is for your private fortunes. You should buy this ancient
Leslie property--Rood and Dulmansberry--only L20,000 down; the rest may
remain on mortgage forever--or at least till I find you a rich wife,--as
in fact I did for Egerton. Thornhill wants the L20,000 now,--wants them
very much."

"And where," said Randal, with an iron smile, "are the L20,000 you
ascribe to me to come from?"

"Ten thousand shall come to you the day Count Peschiera marries the
daughter of his kinsman with your help and aid; the remaining ten
thousand I will lend you. No scruple, I shall hazard nothing, the
estates will bear that additional burden. What say you,--shall it be
so?"

"Ten thousand pounds from Count Peschiera!" said Randal, breathing
hard. "You cannot be serious? Such a sum--for what?--for a mere piece
of information? How otherwise can I aid him? There must be trick and
deception intended here."

"My dear fellow," answered Levy, "I will give you a hint. There is such
a thing in life as being over-suspicious. If you hav