ishing that morning, but merely said:

"Oh! He was up here for two or three days, but had to go back to London
on business. And I was very glad."

"Of course, dearest, your mother still presses you to marry him."

"Yes," laughed the girl. "But she will continue to press. She's
constantly singing his praises until I'm utterly sick of hearing of all
his good qualities."

Hugh sighed, and replied:

"All men who are rich are possessed of good qualities in the estimation
of the world. The poor and hard-up are the despised. But, after all,
Dorise," he added, in a changed voice, "you have not forgotten what you
told me at Monte Carlo--that you love me?"

"I repeat it, Hugh!" declared the girl, deeply in earnest, her hand
stealing into his. "I love only you!--_you_!"

Then again he took her in his arms, and imprinted a fierce, passionate
kiss upon her ready lips.

"I suppose we must part again," he sighed. "I am compelled to keep away
from you because no doubt a watch has been set upon you, and upon your
correspondence. Up to the present, I have been able, by the good grace
of unknown friends, to slip through the meshes of the net spread for me.
But how long this will continue, I know not."

"Oh! do be careful, Hugh, won't you?" urged the girl, as they sat side
by side. The only sound was the rippling of the burn deep down in the
glen, and the distant barking of a shepherd's dog.

"Yes. I'll get away into the wilds of Kensington--to Abingdon Road. One
is safer in a London suburb than in a desert, no doubt. West London is a
good hiding-place."

"Recollect the name. Mason, wasn't it? And she lives at 'Heathcote.'"

"That was it. But do not communicate with me, otherwise my place of
concealment will most certainly be discovered."

"But can't I see you, Hugh?" implored the girl. "Must we again be
parted?"

"Yes. It seems so, according to our mysterious friend, whom I believe
most firmly to be the notorious thief known by the Italian sobriquet of
Il Passero--The Sparrow."

"Do you think he is a thief?" asked the girl.

"Yes. I am convinced that your friend is none other than the picturesque
and romantic criminal whose octopus hand is upon almost every great
theft in Europe, and whom the police always fail to catch, so elusive
and clever is he."

She gave him further details of their first meeting at Nice.

"Exactly. That is one of his methods--secrecy and generosity are his two
traits. He and his accomplices r