We

"Ah!" said the secretary, coldly, "that makes a difference. have one or two excellent candidates who are ready to fill the post unpaid, for the sake of the experience. Of course your name and position would have influenced us to give the preference to you; but we really cannot afford a salary."

Ernestine went back to Miss Armine's sick-room, and told her story to the sympathetic Dorothy, who carried it home to Coventry at dinner time, now almost the only hour in the day when she saw him. Indeed, that gentleman was left so much to his own devices now that Dorothy had turned nurse, that it was pretty nearly certain he must get into mischief before long. And the very next morning after Ernestine's call at the hospital, he set about it. Soon after Dorothy had gone out, he sallied forth himself, and walked straight into the city to Mr. Lingen's office.

Lewis Lingen was sitting alone in his dust-coloured room when a clerk brought in a card and handed it to him.

"The gentleman does not wish to come in unless you are quite disengaged; otherwise he will call again.'

"Coventry Silburn!-ah, I know," said Lingen, smiling to himself; "a verse-maker." 66 Yes, show him in at once," he added aloud to the clerk.

When Coventry entered, Lingen looked up, eyeglass on eye, from his papers. He had never had to do with this verse-maker personally. After a second's scrutiny, while Coventry advanced, he rose to welcome him-dropping the eyeglass as he did so, and putting it inside his waistcoat. The man before him was pellucid-his soul shone out of his eyes instead of being concealed behind them. Lingen looked

ness, welcoming the poet who had strayed into his office, much as he might have greeted a wandering butterfly.

"I have come," said Coventry, "on a very impertinent errand. I don't want to be really impertinent; I have only one question to ask you, and you will betray no secrets in answering it."

"Sit down if you please," said Mr. Lingen, "I am not busy just now; and I have often desired to meet you, though I never anticipated seeing you here. You are

about the last man in London whom I should expect to find in my office."

"You are right; I should not be likely to come here on my own affairs. I am putting my fingers into other people's pies, and I shall probably make a mess of it."

"Well! and how am I to help you in this cookery?"

"I have come to you," said Coventry, "because you know everybody's secrets, and can tell me what is possible and what is not. There are two splendid people whom both you and I know, whose lives are being made miserable. They have separated on a flimsy pretext, and are living apart and breaking their hearts over it. Now I for one don't believe in their pretext; I think there is a secret between them, which you probably know. So I want you to tell me whether there is anything to be done to bring these people together again."

"And these people are

?"

Dr. Doldy and Mrs. Dr. Doldy." "Oh!" said Mr. Lingen abstractedly, wearing the look which came upon him when he turned his vision inwards to review all the points of a case, "I heard there was some professional quarrel between them; you don't believe that?

"Yes, I do," answered Coventry"Indeed I know it is true. And it is just what might have been expected with two people of strong character, of differing views, and separated by half a generation in technical education. But they are not the people to actually break up a life which they had just formed together because of such a quarrel. Something besides that has come between them."

"And how can. I know anything about it?"

"Because I think it relates to Miss Doldy's affairs."

And, if I may ask another question, what should make you expect me to help you if I do know anything?"

"Only the shape of your head," answered Coventry. "I am sure you will do what you can to avert misfortune from two such people as these are."

"I don't know Mrs. Doldy," said Mr. Lingen, "I have heard that she is a handsome woman.'

"She is a glorious woman," exclaimed Coventry, "a woman whose greatest personal charm is that, though of course she knows she is handsome, she does not think about it, for she has other things in her mind."

"I should like to see her," said Mr. Lingen; "like most intensely practical men, I delight in fast horses and fine women.'

"But you are not naturally intensely practical: you have turned the powers of a mind created to deal with abstractions, upon facts. But as to Dr. Ernestine, you will not meet her in society now; you will have to enter Bohemia and come to my house if you are to see her. But even that I can't promise you at present she is very busy."

"And you think it is Miss Doldy who has come between these two?"

"Not knowingly, I fancy: it appears to me as if Dr. Ernestine had, by some accident, come to know more of Miss Doldy's affairs than she liked, and whatever has come between her and Dr. Doldy, has come, I feel sure, by silence and the keeping of secrets."

"Yes; that is possible. But I can do nothing until Miss Doldy is married. When she is Lady Flaxen, and Mr. Yriarte is a convict, I think I may help you."

"Does he really deserve such a punishment?" asked Coventry, thinking of Ernestine's distress when she spoke of it.

"Certainly," exclaimed Mr. Lingen with unusual heat of manner; "for the matter of that, he ought to be hung. But at present," he added more coolly, "my lips are sealed. When those two events have taken place of which I spoke, I believe I can help you to bring the doctors together again. But you musn't forget your promise to introduce me to the lady."

They talked for a while about other things literature principally. And then Coventry went home, and told Mrs. Silburn in enigmatical fashion that "he had been to make a call, and had seen a man of imagination who had wasted himself upon facts."

"And who is this wonderful man?" asked Dorothy. "Lewis Lingen."

66

Dorothy,

Now," exclaimed you have done something useful for once in your life. You have reminded me, by mentioning that man's name, of how it is that poor little Ruth Armine hasn't got any money. She gets her dividends from him and, like the clever, practical people we are, we never left her new address at the old lodgings. And, of course, being ill, she has not been at the Art School or any of her haunts. I

expect he has lost her: I will write him a note at once."

Which she did; and, in the delight of her discovery, forgot to question Coventry any further about his interview with the great lawyer.

As it happened, Dorothy's note was very welcome to Mr. Lingen; for it arrived just as Ruth's brother-in-law, fresh out of the train from the north, had entered his office to demand of him what he meant by such nonsense as telegraphing to him that his sister had disappeared?

CHAPTER XXXIII.

A PRACTICAL ΜΑΝ.

RUTH ARMINE's brother-in-law was a man who generally met with respect. He was eminently respectable in appearance, always cool, well dressed, well brushed, quiet in manner; yet in disposition he was a species of incarnate whirlwind. The moment Mr. Lingen met his quick restless eyes, he was aware of the fact that he had encountered one of those men who seem created to fill something of the office of a human tornado. Such men cannot live unless they both move themselves and stir the world around them. If they are not born into a position where they are utilised as conquerors, soldiers, or politicians, they enter the easier arena of finance, and become gigantic speculators, and make of themselves a sort of centre to a perpetual stir and change of money.

Mr. Nugent was supposed to be a cotton-spinner. His real affairs in life were only understood by a few men like himself well known in the great money exchanges of Europe.

He had come to London now, not on business, but to see what had become of his little sister-inlaw. She had worried him for some years by persistently refusing

to give up her independence and add herself to the wife and nine daughters, who made a comparatively colourless party round his dinner table, and now she had put the cap to her absurdities by losing herself in some extraordinary fashion; and when Mr. Lingen, who was very busy, looked up from his papers and met the quick eyes of his visitor, he felt very glad that Dorothy's note had just come, and that he could perhaps divert the fury of the whirlwind by supplying some news of the lost relation.

Mr. Nugent had a peculiarity which was quite a part of himself. He always understood-or supposed he understood-what people had to say before they had half said it. He never heard a sentence to the end.

"Ruth ill?"-just what might be expected delirious? - brain fever, of course. The foolish girl will work. Women can't stand it -all nonsense to suppose they can. They weren't created for it, and its no good trying to make them over again. Just give me her address -thanks," jotting it down in his notebook while he spoke. "I must be off directly, as I've only got about an hour to look her up in.-Oh, by the way, I expect I shall have to send for a physician for the child. She is sure to have called in some little local nobody. Whom should you recommend? My friend Dr. Bull is out of town to-day, I know."

"Dr. Doldy, certainly," said Mr. Lingen. "I will give you his address in case you need it, but I quite hope you will find Miss Armine better, as Mrs. Silburn speaks of the crisis being over now." Good!" said his visitor. "Good bye, Lingen," and was gone without waiting any answer.

In less than half-an-hour he was

at the door of Miss Armine's new lodgings in confidential talk with her landlady, who informed him that the poor lady was raving mad with brain fever and certain to die. The good woman was so delighted with the substantial appearance of this relation of her sick lodger that she tried to pour volumes of eloquence on him; but he would hear only an answer to one question, "Is a doctor attending her?

'Yes, sir, a lady doctor. . . ." Any further information was drowned in Mr. Nugent's exclamation of horror. "A lady!" Without any further pause he went up the stairs to look for the invalidthe landlady following as quickly as she could.

At the bedroom door they paused. There was a faint sound of talking.

"Ah! poor soul, she's wandering again," said the landlady.

"Is there anyone there ?" asked Mr. Nugent.

Yes, sir, the doctor is there now." Mr. Nugent made a grimace. "A lady!—well, let me go in." He entered ; Ernestine was standing by the window; when she saw him she advanced.

"By Jove!" said Mr. Nugent to himself, "this is the style of thing, is it? A splendid woman. I declare I feel ill. I wonder hadn't I better ask her advice ?"

These reflections only took a second, and were expressed in the merriest imaginable twinkle of Mr. Nugent's bright eyes as they looked at Ernestine.

"You are the doctor?" he said, aloud, very gravely. Ernestine only bowed.

"Miss Armine is my wife's sister," said Mr. Nugent; "we have been anxious about her. She is very ill?"

"Yes," replied Ernestine, "it is a bad case of typhoid fever. The

incubation has lasted unusually long; but by cooling baths and packs we have carried her through the worst of the fever; she will soon be better now."

"Cooling baths?" said Mr. Nugent, with that slight shudder which the idea of hydropathic treatment generally produces in a full-blooded man, "reducing things, aren't they. Hope you've given her plenty of brandy. The right thing in fever, isn't it ?"

"It is useful if the powers of life begin to fail; it has scarcely been needed as yet, in this case."

"Egad, I think I wouldn't wait for the powers of life to fail before I began dosing. I am sure, Madam," turning to Ernestine with infinite gravity of countenance, and the most absurdly merry eyes, "you will allow me to call in a physician to consult with you; little Ruth is my wife's only sister, and I feel my wife would expect me to call in a dozen doctors at least."

He was gone without waiting for an answer, after his usual

fashion.

Cooling baths!" said he to himself as he got into a hansom, and told the man to "drive-if he knew how " to Dr. Doldy's address. "Cooling baths! and no brandy! Poor little Ruth!"

Ernestine sat down very quietly by the side of her patient to await the arrival of the physician. She knew, by having followed every symptom, that she understood her case thoroughly. She knew that she had treated it correctly, and further, she knew that by incessant personal devotion she had saved her patient's life over and over again, when, in the hands of an incompetent or careless nurse, it would have been sacrificed. She had little fear of the bigwigs of the profession, except with regard to their igno

rance. So she had no trepidation about the coming consultation, and amused herself by wondering with which of the great men it would be.

Never, for a single instant, did she think of the very man whom Mr. Nugent was at that moment bringing in triumph. Had she dreamed who was to enter that room and stand beside her, would she have run away? Probably.

Mr. Nugent had a troublesome task to catch his doctor; for he had not only to follow him into a police court; but to wait patiently (a more difficult task to him than pushing or hurrying) until Dr. Doldy had given evidence.

For it was the day on which Yriarte's case was before the court.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

"6 THE COURSE OF TRUE LAW NEVER

DID RUN SMOOTH."

EVERY preparation had now been made by both sides; and, provided with every appliance of the law for offence and defence, Yriarte and Laura-these sometime lovers -found themselves to-day before a judge and jury.

He

Sir Percy Flaxen drove down to the court with Laura, and there left her in Dr. Doldy's care. was a little proud of accompanying her, for he was one of that numerous class of persons who are unable to perceive the difference between fame and notoriety. Laura's affair had been talked about in his set, and he felt himself eminent in being connected with the Miss Doldy. Moreover, he was intensely lazy, and Laura's energy in the matter excited his admiration greatly. "You're an awfully plucky girl," he said, as he handed her out of the carriage; and so, encouraged by his admiration, Laura entered the court.

And only to meet with more

admiration. Her name and her case had run the round of the newspapers; the public sympathies which Mr. Lingen had asked for her were aroused. Curiosity led quite a number of persons of all classes into the court; and when Laura went in she soon found that she was a sort of heroine.

There were counsel on both sides. Now, Mr. Lingen had secured for Laura the biggest man of the day, so Yriarte had to content himself with next best. Everything was exceedingly solemn; and when the two prisoners were ushered in, there was a certain awed silence. For these men were prospective convicts, and the frequenters of police courts feel a certain interest in convicts. They are people whose names go once at least into the newspapers, at all events.

Yriarte, however, looked round with his invariable jauntiness. But then he had been out on bail, and had lived as usual during the interval. Moreover, he had just refreshed himself with a tall glass of brandy and soda. But Anton looked dejected. He had been in gaol all the while, and had not relished it. His depression was added to by his having heard that his position in life had been inquired into. He did not understand the language sufficiently to know what passed in court; but he was quite awake now to the fact that Yriarte had made a mess of the speculation, and that he (Anton) was likely to suffer for it.

The court assembled, the names of the jury were called over, the judge entered in the usual hush and rising of all, and the case was fully gone into with the usual formalities; counsel on both sides having been well instructed as to the line which they were to take. These instructions

naturally