profession seemed to be represented in the locality. I had to stand upon door-steps and almost rub my face upon the doors to decipher the signs. Here and there lights from windows on both sides of the street assisted me. I found pawnbrokers, engravers, solicitors, commission agents, monthly nurses; but no sheriff's officers. At last I boldly resolved to seek information from a woman who was going into a broker's with a bundle under her arm.

"Slocum and Levy," she said, with a sigh; "sh'd think I did; the last house round the corner, with a shelf over the door to keep the rain off the precious steps in front."

I thanked her and passed on. A small brass-plate in the centre of a newly-painted green door informed me that I had reached the office to which "the Man in Possession” directed me. I knocked. The door was opened by a woman. I was shown into a room that reminded me of Trigg's office at Pensax's house in Wulstan. An old wiry man, with thin wiry hair and a pair of red ferret-like eyes, turned upon me as I entered.

"What's your business?" he asked, in a harsh, grating voice.

"My name is Himbleton," I said. "You have made an unexpected and illegal visit to my house."

"Yes, no doubt," said the man, commencing to write; and then, turning to a boy at his elbow, he said, "Who's in at Smith's?" "Dobbin's man," said the boy.

"Who at Harvey's ?" continued the sheriff's man.

"The Cadger," said the boy.

"Who at Himbleton's?"

"Beck's man," said the boy.

Neither clerk nor boy took any further notice of me, though I asked twice what course I should take with a view to the removal of "the Man in Possession."

At last the wiry clerk turned his sharp, unsympathetic face to me again, and said, "Can't do nothing to-night; better see Kitts and Wiggles to-morrow; but you'll not make much out o' them without the money. They are nippers."

The boy looked up at his chief, in evident surprise at his generosity in giving me so much advice. I asked several other questions, but received no answer.

"You should ha' come earlier," said the woman who let me in. She had been standing at the office door all this time to show me

out.

"I want to lock up now, sir, please. Neither Mr. Slocum nor Mr. Levy is in, and Anty, the clerk, never talks."

"Thank you," I said to the woman, who spoke in a low voice which sounded sympathetic after that to which I had just been listening.

"Anty's bin very civil to you, sir, considerin' late hours and the cold; he never does talk, sir; thankee', sir; didn't expect nothin', sir; good night, sir; 'ope things 'll be all right, sir; don't give way, sir; the hups and downs in this life is hawful to behold; good night, sir." It was long past midnight when I reached home.

"Dear George, how pale and wet you are!" said my wife, surprised and troubled at my appearance.

"Has Beck's man gone?" I said, aloud, as if I feared he had.

"The person whom you left here ?" asked my wife.

"Yes; Beck's man, from Kitts and Wiggles's," I said, passing my wife, and going into the room.

"I am here, sir," said the man, in his low and humble voice.

"That is right; I shall want you to stay all night, my man. Hannah," I continued, calling the housemaid, "give Beck's man some supper, and let him go to bed; make him comfortable; I am obliged to detain him until to-morrow."

The man was evidently surprised for a moment at my manner; but he entered into the spirit of my bold strategy, and said he had no objection to stay.

When he had disappeared in the kitchen I embraced my wife, and at her request went upstairs to divest myself of my wet clothes, before I took some hot coffee and a poached egg which she was sure "would do me good."

"Great bother, this new kind of press work," I said; "but we must not mind it, love. Sorry I have kept you up so late. I hope you have enjoyed yourself, eh? my dear. Have you enjoyed yourself?"

"Yes; pretty well, George," said Ruth, watching me with a look. of curiosity.

"I am glad of that-what a rough night it is, to be sure. I had some very important work to do, and could not get through it away from home. My paper is going into the Quarterly. That is very lucky; is it not? Yes; well, and how did you find our neighbours, Ruth ?"

I rattled on, ate my eggs, drank my coffee, rubbed my hands, stirred the fire, and did everything I could to carry Ruth's thoughts away from "the Man in Possession." I was successful in this; for Ruth was too much surprised at my manner to think of any one else but her husband.

All that long weary night I lay awake. It was some comfort to know that Ruth slept soundly and in peace. I heard the wind and the rain beating against the house all through the slow hours. At daylight I fell into a fitful doze, only to awaken in fear and trembling with the voice of the stranger in my ear, saying "I am the Man in Possession."

CHAPTER XXI.

BECK'S MAN.

I WAS in the City at ten o'clock next morning. My lawyer had no doubt the man would be removed during the day. "No doubt!” I exclaimed. Well, then, it should be so. When the law had once moved in a particular direction it was necessary to meet it by certain formal proceedings. He would see Kitts and Wiggles at once. They had promised that the question should be argued before the Court without the violent proceeding of execution. I asked him if Kitts and Wiggles were acting on their own responsibility in the matter. He had no doubt about it. It occurred to me that Pensax or Trigg was behind them; but I would not question my own lawyer's judgment.

Ruth had not risen before I left in the morning, and I had directed the servant to light a fire in the breakfast-room, where nobody ever breakfasted, and see that Beck's man had everything he required. I thought of him, as I wandered about London that day, with a morbid sort of fear. He seemed altogether beyond my power. It was as if I was possessed of a devil. The shadow of him was upon me, and I was ashamed. I did not like to tell Fenton what had happened. When the man was gone, I would have the room painted and whitewashed and forget him altogether. Fenton was in ecstacies with the essay I had written; and I had done it while the enemy was in my camp-aye, in my very tent. I had been jubilant and hilarious while he was there.

I went home early. I got there by back roads and unfrequented paths. I walked all the way from London. My mind was a chaos. My thoughts took no particular shape. I had suffered a defeat which stunned me. If I had seen any relief in dragging Beck's man out of "The Cottage" and hurling him into the Thames, I could have done it. I was quite equal to any act of desperation ; but Beck's man was simply an instrument in the hands of others. Kitts and Wiggles, Pensax and Trigg, the Law itself, were behind him. Beck's man represented the very Throne, just as Pensax did when they made him High Sheriff of Wulstanshire.

"Don't deceive me, George," said my wife. "There is something wrong."

"What is it, Ruth?" I asked, "What do you think is wrong?" "This man, who is he?"

"Beck's man," I said, looking at her vaguely.

"Yes; why does he stay? He rings the bell as if he had authority here."

"Has he dared to assume"breakfast-room.

I exclaimed, going towards the

"No, no, George, he has done nothing objectionable; stay with me," said Ruth, taking me by the arm and looking tenderly up into my face.

"But there is something wrong; pray tell me what it is; you are hiding from me some dreadful trouble."

"Don't ask me, now, darling," I said. "Wait until the evening, when Beck's man has gone, and then I will tell you all about it." "As you please, George; but do not think so lightly of my love, of my judgment, or of my fortitude, as not to give me my full share in your life."

"No, no, my dear Ruth; but ask me this evening."

I am

"The servants are talking about this man. I hear them whispering in all corners of the house; I dare not interpret my own suspicions." "Rest assured, Ruth, of this, that there is no disgrace attaching to us in this business; that, whatever it is, we are not to blame. not to blame; but, my dear Ruth, if you love me, say no more at present; Beck's man will be gone soon, and then we can laugh at the incident, which I confess does trouble me a little.”

"If I love you!" said Ruth, sitting down at my feet and laying her head upon my knee; "if I love you!"

I stroked her dark hair with my hand, and said she was all the world to me, and that I would not give her a moment's pain for all the gold of Peru.

There was a little bouquet of winter roses upon my writing table; my slippers were inside the fender; Ruth's easel was by the window that was nearest to the fire; a screen full of her sketches was drawn round the hearth, admitting inside the picturesque barrier the keyboard of the piano. I remember no picture with such an atmosphere of comfort as this had in it for the moment; but I could not help seeing Beck's man lurking behind.

"I have had another letter from Mary," Ruth said presently.

It was a great relief, this turning of my thoughts seaward.

"I am glad to hear that," I said. "Is she well?"

"Yes, very; and she still hopes to be with us at Christmas. She is urgent in her wish that we should spend the spring with her."

"It is a long journey," I said; " but I should like to see Italy."

I wished in my heart that we could have started for that sunny land at once.

"She has had a letter from Mr. Pensax, who has been very ill, and is ill now, I suppose. He asks her if there is any male relation of ours in whom he could place confidence."

"Is there any one?"

"No male relation that is near to us. We have two or three second cousins in Berkshire."

"I suppose he wants to make him his executor; it is a pity he dislikes me."

"Why, George?"

"Oh, I don't know; he is very rich."

"But you do not care for his money?"

"No; oh, no; he is a miserable, miserly man."

"Mary says he has written her almost an affectionate letter, in which he says he wishes he had always acted upon his own judgment and according to his own wishes."

"Perhaps he desires a reconciliation ?"

"That would be useless," said Ruth; "but Mary, you know, will have nothing said against him, and I am sure she once liked Mr. Pensax."

"He is a demon, Ruth-a demon."

"George! How bitter you are. Has anything occurred lately to increase your dislike of him?"

"I do not know, Ruth; he is ill, you say?"

“Yes; very ill, I believe."

"Then he may not be to blame."

"Do you know, George, I sometimes think there is more of the angel than the demon in that man's nature."

"Let us hope so,” I said.

"You know that strange wayward stream, the Oozle, which runs through his estate. His nature, what little I know of it, reminds me of that river. You remember where it rises among a little knot of trees, pure and bright and sparkling. I made a sketch of it years ago. Childhood is pure and bright and happy. Mr. Pensax was once a child."

"One of those children who lent pennies at heavy interest at school, and stole small boys' marbles," I said.

"Now, my dear George, that is very unkind; you have quite