pearance was certainly such as to disarm all suspicion.

But appearances are proverbially deceitful. Were ours deceitful enough?

'But where are we going?' said my mother, with the short memory of old
age.

'To Paris first, then to Spain, and, if needful, down to Khartoum.'

'_Then_ you young people will have to go alone. I draw the line at
Dongola.'

I glanced at Philippa.

Then for the first time since her malady I saw Philippa blushing! Her
long curved eyelashes hid her eyes, which presumably were also pink, but
certainly my mother's broad pleasantry had called a tell-tale blush to
the cheek of the young person.

As we drew near Folkestone I remembered the letter, but the sight of
the Roding postmark induced me to defer opening it till we should be on
board the steamer. When Philippa was battling with the agonies of the
voyage, then, undisturbed, I might ascertain what Mrs. Thompson (for it
was sure to be Mrs. Thompson) had to say.

We were now on board. Philippa and my mother fled to the depths of
the saloon, and I opened the fateful missive. It began without any
conventional formalities, and the very first words blanched a cheek
already pale.

'I see yer!'

This strange epistle commenced:--

'_I_ know why Sir Runan never reached my house. I know the reason (it
was only too obvious) for _her_ strange, excited state. I know how he
met the death he deserved.

'I never had the pluck. None of the rest of us ever had the pluck.
We all swore we'd swing for him as, one after another, he wedded and
deserted us. The Two-headed Nightingale swore it, and the Missing
Link, and the Spotted Girl, and the Strong Woman who used to double up
horseshoes. Now she doubles up her perambulator with her children in it,
but she never doubled up him.

'As to your sister, tell her from me that she is all right. She has made
herself his widow, she is the Dowager Lady Errand.

'The fact is, _the Live Mermaid was never alive at all!_ She was a
put-up thing of waxwork and a stuffed _salmo ferox_. His pretended
marriage with _her_ is therefore a mere specious excuse to enable him to
avoid your sister's claims.

'Now he is dead, your sister can take the name, title, and estates. I
wish she may get them.'

CHAPTER VIII.--Local Colour.

I READ the woman's letter again and again, read it with feelings of
the most mingled description. First, I reflected with solemn pride
that Philippa was _more_ than an honest woman; that