CHAPTER XIII.

MR. MARCUS.

MRS. SCARSDALE sat in her dingy lodgings in Camden-town. She had heard from Mr. Hamilton of Frank's departure, and she had written to the young man, begging him, on his way through London, to call and bid her farewell at the address she gave. She was detained by business, she said; but hoped to be at Berrylands within a fortnight. It was still early in the day, but a look of anxiety and expectation gave her face a haggard, worn expression.

"Here's a gentleman by the name of Marcus, ma'am, as wants to see you," said the dirty servant-girl, throwing open the door.

"Ask the gentleman to walk in."

It was certainly a "camel" of courtesy at which the girl had strained in so calling

the dirty little German Jew who now entered the room.

Well?" said Mrs. Scarsdale, impatiently, and without any attempt at those formal greetings which usage has consecrated in welcoming the stranger. "Well?"

"It'sh not vell."

"What is it, then ?"

"All ish falsh."

"False? What do you mean?"

He nefer vash killed. He'sh shafe and shound in England."

"Then what did you mean by sending me that newspaper ?"

“I meant bishness, and I mean bishness shtill."

"Look," said Mrs. Scarsdale, disregarding the announcement of Mr. Marcus'

business-like intentions, "Look here; it distinctly states in this paper that, upon reliable authority, they are empowered to announce his death."

"Ach! was!" cried the Jew, in his own vernacular, which we need not further reproduce here, "Reliable authority means unreliable liesh; for which the editor takes care to shay he can't be reshponshible."

"And so it's not true, after all?" said Mrs. Scarsdale, reflectively; drawing a long breath.

"Better luck nexsht time, madame."

"Do not be impertinent, sir; I should thank you for the future to send me more reliable information, and not to put me to the expense and trouble of a journey up to town for nothing. Do you know what my lodgings have cost me ? and that I run the risk of losing my position by this protracted absence ?"

"Your lodgings can't have cost much; besides, nothing venture, nothing have," said the Jew, by way of saying something.

"I have ventured a good deal; but I don't see that I'm to have anything but annoyance and expense in return.”

"Yesh, you are. You are to have a shurprishe."

"And what surprise, pray?" asked Mrs. Scarsdale, scornfully.

The Jew looked around him cautiously; then putting his finger to his lips, he said, "Shtone walls have earsh; to be on the shafe shide, if you vill allow me, madame, I vill vishper."

It was not pleasant to have this greasy Israelite spluttering in her ears; but Mrs. Scarsdale had borne many. unpleasant things in her life. and she bore this with no further evidence of shrinking than might be implied in the somewhat tighter

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M

compression of her lips and the quickness of her breath. As the Jew gabbled on, the expression of her face changed; a startled and perplexed look came upon it.

It's impossible," she said at length.

"Whatsh imposshible? Nothingsh imposshible. Itsh true, or my namesh not Shamuel Marcush."

"You are sure of what you assert?"

You will make it worth while for me to look up shmall piecesh of newsh like thish ?"

"I cannot pay you anything in advance. This journey has cost me a great deal." "The moneysh been well shpent."

"That remains to be proved. Now, you may go;" and with obsequious bows and grins, the son of Israel departed, not