en you were so happily engaged in
devising liberal things for the poor, but God knows what is best for us.
He gave us this fortune, when He inclined uncle Richard to leave it to
us, and now He has seen fit to take it away."

"But how--what do you mean by taking it away?" asked poor Mrs
Brentwood, perceiving that her husband really had some bad news to tell.

"Listen; I will explain. When uncle Richard Weston died, unexpectedly,
leaving to us his estate, we regarded it you know, as a gift from God,
and came to England resolving to spend our wealth in His service. Well,
yesterday Mr Lockhart informed me that another will has been found, of
later date than that which made me uncle Richard's heir, in which the
whole estate is left to a distant connection of whose very existence I
had become oblivious."

"Well, Jack," returned the lady, with a valiant effort to appear
reconciled, "but that is not _ruin_, you know. Your pay still remains
to us."

"I--I fear not. That is to say, believing the estate to be mine, I have
come under obligations which must be met and, besides, I have spent
considerable sums which must be refunded--all of which, if I understand
the law of the land rightly, means ruin."

For some moments Mrs Brentwood sat in silent meditation. "Well," she
said at length, with the air of one who has made up her mind, "I don't
understand much about the law of the land. All I know is that my purse
is full of gold just now, so I will snap my fingers at the law of the
land and go right off to visit and succour our dear old Liz."

CHAPTER FIVE.

A NIGHT OF ADVENTURES.

According to arrangement, David Laidlaw was taken the following evening
by his landlord, Mr Spivin, to see one of the low lodging-houses of
London.

Our adventurous Scot had often read and heard that some of the low
quarters of London were dangerous for respectable men to enter without
the escort of the police, but his natural courage and his thorough
confidence in the strength of his bulky frame inclined him to smile at
the idea of danger. Nevertheless, by the advice of his new friend the
landlord, he left his watch and money, with the exception of a few
coppers, behind him--carefully stowed under the pillow of his bed in his
shoulder-bag. For further security the door of his room was locked and
the key lung on a nail in an out-of-the-way corner, known only, as Mr
Spivin pointed out, to "their two selves."

"But hoo dis it happen, M