girl with the long ringlets, who used to stand behind
the counter?" asked I. "What is supposed to have become of her?"

"Yes, that's the identical young lady," returned Archer. "All that seems
to be known about her is, that she waited till her father went out to
smoke his pipe, as he usually does for an hour or so every evening, and
then got the urchin who runs of errands to carry a bundle for her, and
set out without saying a word to any one. After she had proceeded a
little way, she was met by a man muffled up in a cloak, who took the
bundle from the boy, threw him a shilling, and told him to go home
directly. ~183~~Instead of doing so, however, he let them proceed for a
minute or two, and then followed them. They went at a quick pace along
one or two streets, and at length turned down a lane, not far from the
bottom of which a gig was waiting. Another man, also muffled up, was
seated in the gig, into which the girl was handed by her companion, who
said to the second man in a low tone, 'All has gone well, and without
attracting notice'. He then added in a warning voice--'Remember, honour
bright, no nonsense, or'--and here he sunk his voice so that the boy
could not catch what he said; but the other replied, 'On my word, on my
honour!'' They then shook hands; the second man gathered up the reins,
drew the whip across the horse, which sprang forward at speed, and they
were out of sight in a moment. The person who was left gazed after them
for a minute or so, and then, turning briskly on his heel, walked away
without perceiving the boy, who stood under the shadow of a doorway. On
being questioned as to what the men were like, he said that the first
kept his face entirely concealed, but he was rather tall, and had black
hair; the second was a stout man, with light hair and a high colour--for
a dark lantern which he had in the gig with him happened to throw its
light on his face as he was lighting it."

"At what time in the evening did all this take place?" inquired
Oaklands.

"Between nine and ten," replied Archer. Oaklands and I exchanged
glances; the same idea had evidently struck us both.

"Has any one seen Wilford this morning?" asked Oaklands.

"Seen him!" returned Archer; "yes, to be sure, he and Wentworth have
been parading about arm and arm all over the town: they were with me
when I met poor old Maurice, and asked him all sorts of questions about
the affair. Wilford seemed quite interested for him."

"Stra