short time after you
returned this morning, a strange gentleman asked at the porter's lodge
if Mr. Ferrers was not staying at the hotel. The porter said there was
no Mr. Ferrers, but the gentleman insisted upon it that he had seen
Mr. Ferrers enter. I was in the lodge at the moment, my lord, and I
explained--"

"That Mr. Ferrers and Lord Vargrave are one and the same? What sort of
looking person?"

"Thin and dark, my lord,--evidently a foreigner. When I said that you
were now Lord Vargrave, he stared a moment, and said very abruptly that
he recollected it perfectly, and then he laughed and walked away."

"Did he not ask to see me?"

"No, my lord; he said he should take another opportunity. He was a
strange-looking gentleman, and his clothes were threadbare."

"Ah, some troublesome petitioner. Perhaps a Pole in distress! Remember I
am never at home when he calls. Shut the door. To Lady Doltimore's."

Lumley's heart beat as he threw himself back,--he again felt the grip of
the madman at his throat. He saw, at once, that Cesarini had dogged him;
he resolved the next morning to change his hotel, and to apply to the
police. It was strange how sudden and keen a fear had entered the breast
of this callous and resolute man!

On arriving at Lady Doltimore's, he found Caroline alone in the
drawing-room. It was a _tete-a-tete_ that he by no means desired.

"Lord Vargrave," said Caroline, coldly, "I wished a short conversation
with you; and finding you did not come in the morning, I sent you a note
an hour ago. Did you receive it?"

"No; I have been from home since six o'clock,--it is now nine."

"Well, then, Vargrave," said Caroline, with a compressed and writhing
lip, and turning very pale, "I tremble to tell you that I fear Doltimore
suspects. He looked at me sternly this morning, and said, 'You seem
unhappy, madam; this marriage of Lord Vargrave's distresses you!'"

"I warned you how it would be,--your own selfishness will betray and
ruin you."

"Do not reproach me, man!" said Lady Doltimore, with great vehemence.
"From you at least I have a right to pity, to forbearance, to succour. I
will not bear reproach from _you_."

"I reproach you for your own sake, for the faults you commit against
yourself; and I must say, Caroline, that after I had generously
conquered all selfish feeling, and assisted you to so desirable and
even brilliant a position, it is neither just nor high-minded in you to
evince so ungracious