was the master of the house.

Randal noticed the worn, preoccupied look in his brother's face, and
determined to break up the meeting. The opportunity for which he
was waiting occurred in another minute. He was asked as a moderate
politician to decide between two guests, both members of Parliament, who
were fast drifting into mere contradiction of each other's second-hand
opinions. In plain terms, they stated the matter in dispute: "Which of
our political parties deserves the confidence of the English people?"
In plain terms, on his sides Randal answered: "The party that lowers
the taxes." Those words acted on the discussion like water on a fire.
As members of Parliament, the two contending politicians were naturally
innocent of the slightest interest in the people or the taxes; they
received the new idea submitted to them in helpless silence. Friends
who were listening began to laugh. The oldest man present looked at his
watch. In five minutes more the lights were out and the smoking-room was
deserted.

Linley was the last to retire--fevered by the combined influences of
smoke and noise. His mind, oppressed all through the evening, was as ill
at ease as ever. Lingering, wakeful and irritable, in the corridor (just
as Sydney had lingered before him), he too stopped at the open door and
admired the peaceful beauty of the garden.

The sleepy servant, appointed to attend in the smoking room, asked if he
should close the door. Linley answered: "Go to bed, and leave it to
me." Still lingering at the top of the steps, he too was tempted by the
refreshing coolness of the air. He took the key out of the lock; secured
the door after he had passed through it; put the key in his pocket, and
went down into the garden.

Chapter IX. Somebody Attends to the Door.

With slow steps Linley crossed the lawn; his mind gloomily absorbed
in thoughts which had never before troubled his easy nature--thoughts
heavily laden with a burden of self-reproach.

Arrived at the limits of the lawn, two paths opened before him. One
led into a quaintly pretty inclosure, cultivated on the plan of the old
gardens at Versailles, and called the French Garden. The other path
led to a grassy walk, winding its way capriciously through a thick
shrubbery. Careless in what direction he turned his steps, Linley
entered the shrubbery, because it happened to be nearest to him.

Except at certain points, where the moonlight found its way through open
spa