s useless for you to ask me."

Moreas thereupon transferred his attentions to Bertram, who proved
equally intractable.

"Very well," he said at last, when he had tried to arrive at a proper
understanding of the position; "if you won't come I suppose you won't,
so I'll go myself, and leave you to conspire against me in peace."

With that he took himself off, and the two men were left to construe his
last speech according to their inclinations.

"That is a cur who will require some watching," said Bertram, when they
were alone once more together. "Thank goodness, however, I'm up to most
of his tricks."

Max offered no reply to this remark. Angry as he was with Moreas, he
felt that he himself was in an invidious position. To all intents and
purpose he was the other's servant, and an innate feeling of loyalty, to
however unworthy a master, kept him silent.

"If we are to be up as early to-morrow morning as we arranged had we not
better begin to think about bed?" said Max at last.

"Perhaps we had. But I am rather afraid the others will not be in a
condition after their carouse to-night to travel as soon as we imagine.
However, if you are tired, by all means let us turn in."

They walked towards the door. Suddenly Bertram stopped, and, with a
little hesitation, addressed his companion once more.

"I want to ask you," he said, "whether you have any objection to telling
me the name of your friend; I mean the man who you visited at
Gainsthorpe. It's just possible I might know him."

"His name was Beverley," Max replied, without thinking of the trouble to
which his answer might possibly give rise.

"Do you mean Dick Beverley, the cross-country man?" said Bertram, after
a momentary pause.

"The same," said Max. "Do you know him?"

"I ought to," the other replied, and then, after another display of
hesitation, added, "Dick Beverley is my brother. Bertram is only my
assumed name."

Max uttered an exclamation, that was partly one of surprise and partly
one of pain. "Good heavens! can it be possible that you are Beverley's
brother?" he cried. "I can scarcely credit it."

"It's more than possible, however, it's a certainty," returned his
companion. "And now, d'you know, I fancy I can tell who you are. Your
face has been haunting me ever since I first saw it. I knew I had seen
it somewhere. You don't remember me, because I never saw you at the old
place, but, the year after I cleared out of England, Dick sent me a
ph