the royal visit, so immediately to be
followed by the great crash, when the magnificent estate, with all its
splendid appointments, was sold under the hammer, and purchased by the
wealthy banker and city knight, Sir Lemuel Levison. We have told how
the noble son--the young Marquis of Arondelle--sacrificed all his
life-interest in the entailed estate, to save his father, and how
vain that sacrifice proved. We have told how the duchess died of
humiliation and grief, and how the duke and his son went into social
exile, until recalled by the romantic love of Salome Levison, who wished
to bestow her hand and her magnificent inheritance upon the disinherited
heir of Lone.

We have now brought the story of John Scott up to the night of the
banker's murder, and his own unintentional share in the tragedy.

At the time of the projected marriage between the Marquis of Arondelle
and the heiress of Lone, John Scott was deeply sunk in debt, and badly in
want of money.

The capital given him by his father had been so tied up by the donor that
nothing but the interest could be touched by the improvident recipient.
It had, in fact, been given to Sir Lemuel Levison in trust for John
Scott, with directions to invest it to the best advantage for his
benefit.

This duty the banker had most conscientiously performed by investing the
money in a mining enterprise, supposed to be perfectly secure and to pay
a high interest. This investment continued good for years, affording
John Scott a very liberal income; but as John Scott would probably have
exceeded any income, however large, that he might have possessed, so of
course he exceeded this one and got into debt, which accumulated year
after year, until at length he felt himself forced to ask his trustee to
sell out a part of his stock in the mining company to liquidate his
liabilities.

This the banker politely but firmly refused to do, representing to the
young spendthrift that his duties as a trustee forbade him to squander
the capital of his client, and that he had been made trustee for the very
purpose of preserving it.

The obstinacy of the banker enraged the young man, who protested that
it was unbearable to a man of twenty-five years of age to be in
leading-strings to a trustee, as if he were an infant of five years old.

The time came, however, when the trustee was compelled by circumstances
to sell out.

The rare foresight which had made him the millionaire that he was, warne