him; that Sir Jasper might assist Arthur with his interest,
at the outset, and perhaps give him a couple of hundred pounds to help
him on in his profession or calling, he did not at all doubt; but beyond
this Ralph did not believe the Baronet would assist him.

"Ah!" said the Attorney, as he took up the fourth letter and glanced at
the postmark, "from Devonshire, and the handwriting is that of Mrs.
Fraudhurst; what can that maneuvering woman have to communicate? but we
shall see, we shall see," and at once opened the letter. The contents
were evidently not of an agreeable character, for his brow darken and
his lips were firmly compressed as he read the long and closely written
epistle. At its conclusion he moved for a few seconds uneasily in his
chair, then re-folded the letter and placed it carefully in his
pocketbook. With his head resting on his hand he remained sometime in
deep thought; presently his brow became clear and, turning to his desk,
wrote rapidly for the space of an hour.

"Scrubbins," said he, addressing his confidential (and only) clerk, "I
am going to Devonshire, but will return the day after to-morrow; you
will find your instructions on my desk, and now give me the deeds; and
remember, should any one enquire for me tell them I am gone to the
country on business, and shall be back the day after to-morrow," and
without farther comment, Ralph Coleman passed out of the office.

It was a still, calm night in early autumn, the silvery moon looked down
from her deep violet throne amidst the starry heavens; the dull, heavy
sound made by the mighty ocean, as its huge waves were dashed upon the
sea-beat shore, fell audibly on the ear in the silent night. A light sea
breeze swept through the furze bushes that were scattered over the
Downs, across which lay the high road leading past the Park.

Bridoon, the old gate keeper, was seated on his wooden settle within the
porch of the lodge, smoking a long clay pipe, and occasionally quaffing
long draughts of rare old cider. He was just thinking of turning in for
the night, when a vehicle stopped, and a voice demanded admittance. As
the gates swung open a gig and its occupant passed through and proceeded
at a smart pace along the broad avenue towards the mansion.

The clock of the village church was striking ten as Ralph Coleman
pulled up at the principal entrance of Vellenaux, and was met in the
hall by Reynolds the old butler, and conducted to the room he usually