"The movements of men so distinguished need never take us by surprise.
I knew he was in Paris the other day. It is natural eno' that he should
come here. I was prepared for his coming."

Margrave here turned away towards the window, which he threw open and
looked out.

"There is a storm in the air," said he, as he continued to gaze into the
night.

Was it possible that Margrave was so wholly unconscious of what had
passed in the museum as to include in oblivion even the remembrance of
Sir Philip Derval's presence before he had been rendered insensible, or
laid asleep? Was it now only for the first time that he learned of
Sir Philip's arrival in L----, and visit to that house? Was there any
intimation of menace in his words and his aspect?

I felt that the trouble of my thoughts communicated itself to my
countenance and manner; and, longing for solitude and fresh air, I
quitted the house. When I found myself in the street I turned round and
saw Margrave still standing at the open window, but he did not appear to
notice me; his eyes seemed fixed abstractedly on space.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

I walked on slowly and with the downcast brow of a man absorbed in
meditation. I had gained the broad place in which the main streets of
the town converged, when I was overtaken by a violent storm of rain. I
sought shelter under the dark archway of that entrance to the district
of Abbey Hill which was still called Monk's Gate. The shadow within
the arch was so deep that I was not aware that I had a companion till
I beard my own name, close at my side. I recognized the voice before I
could distinguish the form of Sir Philip Derval.

"The storm will soon be over," said he, quietly. "I saw it coming on in
time. I fear you neglected the first warning of those sable clouds, and
must be already drenched."

I made no reply, but moved involuntarily away towards the mouth of the
arch.

"I see that you cherish a grudge against me!" resumed Sir Philip. "Are
you, then, by nature vindictive?"

Somewhat softened by the friendly tone of this reproach, I answered,
half in jest, half in earnest,--

"You must own, Sir Philip, that I have some little reason for the
uncharitable anger your question imputes to me. But I can forgive you,
on one condition."

"What is that?"

"The possession for half an hour of that mysterious steel casket which
you carry about with you, and full permission to analyze and test its
contents."

"Your ana