The whole of the bottom of the narrow valley was a scene of life and bustle. The existence of gold in the valley had been discovered but three weeks before, but a rush had taken place from other diggings. The ground had been allotted out, and a number of tents pitched, and rough huts erected. Men were working as if for bare life. The lots were small, and the ground was already perfectly honeycombed with holes. Generally the diggers worked in batches of four or five, each member of which took up a claim, so that the space for operations was enlarged.

Two men laboured with pick and shovel, and the baskets, as they were filled with earth and sand, were first screened in a sieve to remove the larger portion of stones and rock, and were then poured into what was known as a cradle, which was a long trough on rockers; one man brought water in buckets from the stream, and poured it into this, while another kept the cradle in constant motion. The mud and lighter portions of stone flowed away over the edge, or were swept off by the hand of the men employed in working it, the particles of gold sinking to the bottom of the machine, where they were found at the clean-up at the end of the day's work.

The new-comers looked on with great interest at the work, asking questions as to the luck which attended the operators. The majority gave but a poor account of their luck, the value of the finds at the end of the day being barely sufficient to pay the enormous rate charged for provisions, which had to be carried up from the coast some hundreds of miles away. The stores were brought in waggons as far as Sacramento, and from that town were carried to the diggings on the backs of mules and horses. Consequently it was impossible for a man to live on the poorest necessities of life for less than three or four dollars a day, and in the out-of-the-way valleys the cost was often considerably more.

Some of the diggers owned that they were doing well, but there was a general disinclination to state even the approximate amount of their daily winnings. The hunters found, however, that the general belief was that some of those who had claims in the centre of the valley, where of course the gold would settle the thickest, were making from ten to twenty ounces per day.

"That's something like!" Dick said. "Just fancy making from forty to eighty pounds per day. I vote we set to work at once. As well here as anywhere else."

"Yes, I suppose we may as well begin here," Frank agreed; "at any rate until we hear what is being done in the other places. But you see we must be ready to move off as soon as a report comes of some fresh discovery, so as to get good places. Here, of course, we must be content to settle down outside the rest. We will mark out five claims at once, turn up the ground, and put our tools there; they say that's sufficient to take possession. Then we will go up into the forests and cut down a pine or two, and slit it up into planks for making one of those cradles. That will take us all day to-morrow, I reckon."

As they sat round the fire that evening, talking over their prospects, Abe said—

"I tell you what it is, mates, I have been thinking this here matter over, and when I sees what tremendous prices are being charged for grub here, I concluded there must be a big thing to be made in the way of carrying. Now we have got our five riding-horses, and the three baggage-horses, that makes eight. Now what I proposes is this: three of us shall work the claims, and the other two shall work the horses; we can sell the riding-saddles down at Sacramento, and get pack-saddles instead. We can begin by carrying for one of the traders here.

"I hear that a horse can earn from five to ten dollars a day, so our eight horses will earn forty to eighty dollars a day. Now that's a good sartin living for us all, especially as we shall bring up the provisions for ourselves, instead of paying big rates here. Arterards we will see how things go, and if we like we can open a store here, and one of us mind it. Anyhow the horses will keep us well. If the claim turns out well, so much the better; if it don't, we can do very well without it. I proposes as we take it by turns to drive the horses and dig."

The counsel was good and prudent, but it was only adopted after some discussion, for the sums which the more fortunate diggers were earning were so large that all looked forward to making a rapid fortune, and were inclined to despise the small but steady gains offered by the plan Abe suggested. However, Frank sided with Abe, and offered to go with him on the first trip to Sacramento, and the others thereupon fell in with the plan.

The next day the cradle was made by Abe and Frank, the others setting to to dig and wash out in a bucket. At the end of a day of hard work they had got about a quarter of an ounce of glittering yellow dust. This was not paying work, but they were not disappointed; they had not expected to strike upon good ground at the first attempt, and were quite satisfied by the fact that they really had met with the gold which they had come so far to seek.

That evening Abe made a bargain to bring up goods from Sacramento for one of the store-keepers, having previously found the rate which was current. At daybreak next morning he and Frank started off on horseback, each with three horses tied, head and tail, behind the one he was riding, Turk marching gravely by their side.

The distance to Sacramento was upwards of seventy miles. On their road they met numerous parties making their way up the mountains. All carried a pick and shovel, a bucket and blanket, and a small sack with flour and bacon. Many of them were sailors, who had deserted from their ships at San Francisco, where scores of vessels were lying unable to leave for want of hands.

All, as they passed, asked the last news from the diggings, where the last rush was, and what was the average take at the camp, and then hurried on, eager to reach the spot where, as every man believed, fortune awaited him.

Two days of travel down the mountains took them to Sacramento. Here their saddles were disposed of, and pack-saddles bought. The horses were laden with sacks of sugar and flour, sides of bacon, and mining tools, and after a day's stay in town, they started back for the camp.

Sacramento, but a few months before a sleepy, quiet city, mostly inhabited by Spaniards, or rather people of Spanish descent, was now a scene of animation and bustle. Long teams of waggons, laden with stores, rolled in almost hourly across the plains from San Francisco, while the wharves at the river-side were surrounded by laden barges. Bands of newly-arrived emigrants wandered through the streets, asking eager questions of any one who had time enough to talk as to the best way of getting to the diggings, and as to the camp which they had better select for their first attempt. Dark-looking men, half Spaniard and half Indian, went along on their little ponies, or rode at the head of a string of laden animals, with an air of perfect indifference to the bustle around them.

Sounds of shouting and singing came through the doors of some saloons, in which many of the fortunate diggers were busily engaged in dissipating their hard-earned gains. Men sunburnt almost to blackness, in red shirts and canvas trousers, walked along the streets as if the town and all in it belonged to them in virtue of the store of gold-dust tied up in their waist-belts. In these, revolvers and bowie-knives were stuck conspicuously, and the newly-arrived emigrants looked with awe and envy at these men who had already reaped a harvest at the mines.

Shooting affrays were of frequent occurrence in the drinking saloons, where at night gambling was invariably carried on, the diggers being as reckless of their lives as of their money.

"About ten days of that place would be enough to ruin any man," Abe said, as they walked at the head of their cavalcade from the town. "I reckon as Sacramento is a sort of hell on arth, and guess there's more wickedness goes on in that ere little town than in any other place its own size on the face of creation. They tells me as San Francisco is worse, but at any rate Sacramento is bad enough for me."

On the evening of the third day after leaving Sacramento they arrived at the mining camp, and having delivered the stores they had brought up to the trader, and received the amount agreed upon, they took their way to the spot where they had pitched their camp.

"Well, lads, what luck?" Abe asked, as at the sound of their feet their comrades came out to greet them.

"We have got about four ounces of dust," Dick said, "and our backs are pretty nigh broken, and our hands that blistered we can hardly hold the shovel. However, we have been better the last two days. I expect there have been two or three hundred people arrived here since you left, and they are all at work now."

"Well, that's pretty well for a beginning," Abe said, "though you wouldn't have much of your four ounces left if you had had to pay for grub. However, we've brought up another half-sack of flour, twenty pounds of sugar, and five pounds of tea, and a half-side of bacon, so we have got quite enough to go on for a long time yet. I have brought up, too, a good stout tent, which will hold us comfortable, and, after paying for all that, here's thirty pounds in money. I got five pounds a horse-load, so with your earnings and ours we haven't made a bad week's work; that's pretty nigh ten pounds a man. I don't say that's anything wonderful, as times goes here; but when we hit on a good spot for our digging, we shall pick it up quick. Now let's pitch the new tent, and then we will have supper, for I can tell you walking twenty-five miles in this mountain air gives one something like an appetite."



CHAPTER XIV.

CAPTAIN BAYLEY.

DURING the time which had elapsed between the departure of Frank Norris from England, and his arrival at the gold-diggings in California, much had happened at home which he would have been interested to learn had he maintained any communication with his relatives there. On the morning when Frank had been accused by Dr. Litter of abstracting the note from his table, the latter had, as he had informed Frank he intended to do, sent a note to Captain Bayley informing him that a most painful circumstance had taken place with reference to his nephew, and begging him to call upon him between twelve and one.

Captain Bayley had done so, and had, as Fred Barkley stated, been furious at the news which the Doctor conveyed to him; his fury, however, being in no degree directed towards his nephew, but entirely against the head-master for venturing to bring so abominable an accusation against Frank.

The evidence which Dr. Litter adduced had no effect whatever in staying his wrath, and so vehement and angry was the old officer, that Dr. Litter was obliged to ring the bell and order the servant to show him out. From Dean's Yard he took a cab, and drove direct to his solicitor, and requested him instantly to take proceedings against the head-master for defamation of character.

"But, Captain Bayley," the lawyer urged, "we must first see whether this gentleman had any reasonable cause for his belief. If the evidence is what may be considered as strong, we must accept his action as taken bona fide."

"Don't tell me, sir," Captain Bayley exclaimed angrily. "What do I care for evidence? Of course he told me a long rigmarole story, but he could not have believed it himself. No one but a fool could believe my nephew Frank guilty of theft; the idea is preposterous, it was as much as I could do to restrain myself from caning him when he was speaking."

The lawyer smiled inwardly, for Dr. Litter was a tall, stately man, six feet two in height, while Captain Bayley was a small, slight figure, by no means powerful when in his prime, and now fully twenty years the senior of the head-master.

"Well, Captain Bayley," he said, "in the first place it is necessary that I should know the precise accusation which this gentleman has brought against your nephew. Will you be good enough to repeat to me, as nearly as you can, the statement which he made, as, of course, if we proceed to legal measures, we must be exact in the matter?"

"Well, this is about the story he told me," Captain Bayley said, more calmly. "In the first place, it seems that the lad broke bounds one night, and went with a man named Perkins—who is a prize-fighter, and who I know gave him lessons in boxing, for I gave Frank five pounds last half to pay for them—to a meeting of these Chartist blackguards somewhere in the New Cut.

"Well, there was a row there, as there naturally would be at such a place, and it seems Frank knocked down some Radical fellow—a tailor, I believe—and broke his nose. Well, you know, I am not saying this was right; still, you know, lads will be lads, and I used to be fond of getting into a row myself when I was young, for I could spar in those days pretty well, I can tell you, Griffith. I would have given a five-pound note to have seen Frank set to with that Radical tailor. Still, I dare say, if the lad had told me about it I should have got into a passion and blown him up."

"I shouldn't be surprised at all," the lawyer said drily.

"No. Well that would do him no harm; he knows me, and he knows that I am peppery. Well, it seems this fellow found out who he was, and threatened to report the thing to the head-master, in which case this Dr. Litter said he should have expelled him for being out of bounds, a thing which in itself I call monstrous. Now, here is where Frank was wrong. He ought to have come straight to me and told me the whole affair, and got his blowing-up and his money. Instead of that, he asked three or four of the other boys—among them my nephew Fred—to lend him the money, but they were all out of funds. Well, somebody, it seems, sent Frank a ten-pound note in an envelope, with the words, 'From a friend,' and no more. Frank showed the envelope to the others, and they all agreed that it was a sort of godsend, and Frank sent the note to the tailor. Now it seems that the day before Frank got the note, the head-master, when he was hearing his form, had put a ten-pound note, with some other things, on the table, and being called out, he, like a careless old fool, left them lying there.

"Some time afterwards he missed the note, and does not remember taking it up from the table; still, he says, he did not suspect any of the boys of his form of taking it, and thinking that he had dropt it on the way to his house, he stopped the note at the bank, happening to have its number. A few days afterwards the note was presented; it was traced to the tailor, who admitted having received it from Frank; and would you believe it, sir, this man now pretends to believe that my nephew stole it from the table, and sent it to himself in an envelope. It's the most preposterous thing I ever heard."

Mr. Griffith looked grave.

"Of course, Captain Bayley, having met your nephew at your house several times, I cannot for a moment believe him guilty of taking the note; still, I must admit that the evidence is strongly circumstantial, and were it a stranger who was accused, I should say at once the thing looked nasty."

"Pooh! nonsense, Griffith," the old officer said angrily; "there's nothing in it, sir—nothing whatever. Somebody found the note kicking about, I dare say, and didn't know who it belonged to; he knew Frank was in a corner, and sent it to him. The thing is perfectly natural."

"Yes," the lawyer assented doubtfully; "but the question is, Who did know it? Was the fact of your nephew requiring the money generally known in the school?"

"No," Captain Bayley admitted. "The doctor examined the four boys before Frank. They all declared that they knew nothing of the note, and that they had not mentioned the circumstance to a soul; but my opinion is that one of them is a liar."

"It is certainly necessary to believe," Mr. Griffith said slowly, "that one of them is either a liar or a thief. Of course there may be some other solution of the matter, but the only one that I can see, just at the present moment, is this: Your nephew is the sort of lad to be extremely popular among his schoolmates; either one of these four boys took the note from the master's table, with the good-natured but most mistaken idea of getting him out of a scrape, or they must have mentioned his need of money to some of their school-fellows, one of whom finding the note, perhaps in the yard, where the head-master may have dropped it, sent it to Frank to relieve him of the difficulty.

"These are possible solutions of the mystery, at any rate. But if you will take my advice, Captain Bayley, you will not, in the present state of affairs, take the steps which you propose to me against Dr. Litter. It will be time enough to do that when your nephew's innocence is finally and incontestably proved. Of course," he said, seeing that his listener was about to break out again, "you and I, knowing him, know that he is innocent; but others who do not know him might entertain some doubt upon the subject, and a jury might consider that the Doctor was justified, with the evidence before him, in acting as he did, in which case an immense deal of damage might be done by making the matter a subject of general talk."

With some difficulty Captain Bayley was persuaded to allow his intention to rest for a while.

"It is late now," he said, "but I shall go and see Frank to-morrow. I wish I had seen him this afternoon before I came to you. However, I have no doubt when I get home I shall find a letter from him—not defending himself, of course, as he would know that to be unnecessary, but telling me the story in his own way."

But no letter came that evening, to Captain Bayley's great irritation. He told Alice Hardy the whole circumstances, and she was as indignant as himself, and warmly agreed that the head-master should be punished for his unjust suspicions.

"And do you say he is really going to be expelled to-morrow?" she asked, in a tone of horror.

"So the fellow said, my dear; but he shall smart for it, and the laws of the land shall do Frank justice."

At half-past nine the next morning Fred Barkley arrived at Captain Bayley's.

"Well," his uncle exclaimed, as he entered, "I suppose you have been sent to tell me they have got to the bottom of this rigmarole affair."

"No, uncle," Fred said, "I have, I am sorry to say, been sent to tell you that Frank last night left his boarding-house and is not to be found."

Captain Bayley leapt from his seat in great wrath.

"The fool! the idiot! to run away like a coward instead of facing it out; and not a line or a message has he sent to me. Did you know, sir, that your cousin was going to run away?"

Fred hesitated.

"Yes, uncle, I knew that he was going, and did my best to dissuade him, but it was useless."

Captain Bayley walked up and down the room with quick steps, uttering exclamations testifying his anger and annoyance.

"Has he got any money?" he said suddenly, halting before Fred. "Did he get any money from you?"

Fred hesitated again, and then said.

"Well, uncle, since you insist upon knowing, I did let him have twenty pounds which I got for the sale of my books."

"I believe, sir," the old officer said furiously, "that you encouraged him in this step, a step which I consider fatal to him."

Fred hesitated again, and then said.

"Well, uncle, I am sorry that you should be so angry about it, but I own that I did not throw any obstacle in the way."

"You did not, sir," Captain Bayley roared, "and why did you not? Are you a fool too? Don't you see that this running away instead of facing matters out cannot but be considered, by people who do not know Frank, as a proof of his guilt, a confession that he did not dare to stay to face his accusers?"

Fred was silent.

"Answer me, sir," Captain Bayley said; "don't stand there without a word to explain your conduct. Do you or do you not see that this cowardly flight will look like a confession of guilt?"

"I did see that, uncle," Fred said, "but I thought that better than a public expulsion."

"Oh! you did, did you?" his uncle said sarcastically, "when you knew that if he had stopped quietly at home we should have proved his innocence in less than no time."

Fred made no reply.

"Do you think we shouldn't have proved his innocence?" roared his uncle.

"I am sorry to say anything which is displeasing to you, uncle, but I fear that you would never have proved Frank's innocence."

The words seemed to have a sobering effect on Captain Bayley. The blood seemed to die out of his face; he put one hand on a chair, as if to steady himself, while he looked fixedly in his nephew's face.

"Do you mean, Fred," he said, in a low voice, "do you mean that you have a doubt of Frank's innocence?"

"I should rather not say anything about it," Fred replied. "I hope with all my heart that Frank is not guilty, but——"

"What do you think?" Captain Bayley repeated; "have you any grounds whatever for believing him guilty?"

"No, sir, and I do not wish you to be in the slightest degree influenced by what I said." He paused, but Captain Bayley's eyes were still fixed upon him, as if commanding a complete answer.

"Well, sir," he went on hesitatingly, "I must own that, sad as it is to say so, I fear Frank did it."

"Did he confess it to you?" Captain Bayley asked, in a strained, strange voice.

"No, uncle, not in so many words, but he said things which seemed to me to mean that. When I tried to dissuade him from running away, and urged him to remain till his innocence could be proved, he said angrily, 'What's the use of talking like that, when you know as well as I do that it can't be proved.' Afterwards he said, 'It is a bad job, and I have been an awful fool. But who could have thought that note would ever be traced back to Litter?' and other remarks of the same kind. He may be innocent, uncle—you know how deeply I wish we could prove him so—but I fear, I greatly fear, that we shall be doing Frank more service by letting the matter drop. You know the fellows in the school all believe him innocent, and though his going away has staggered some of them, the general feeling is still all in his favour; therefore they are sure to speak of him as a sort of victim, and when he returns, which of course he will do in a few years' time, the matter will have died away and have been altogether forgotten."

The old officer sat down at the table and hid his face in his hands.

All this time Alice, pale and silent, had sat and listened with her eyes fixed upon the speaker, but she now leapt up to her feet.

"Uncle," she said, "don't believe him, he is not speaking the truth, I am sure he is not. He hates Frank, and I have known it all along, because Frank is bigger and better than he; because Frank was generous and kind-hearted; because every one liked Frank and no one liked him. He is telling a lie now, and I believe every word he has said since he came into the room is false."

"Hush! child," the old officer said; "you must not speak so, my dear. If it was only the word of one lad against another, it would be different; but it is not so. The proof is very strong against Frank. I would give all I am worth if I could still believe him innocent, and had he come to me and put his hand in mine, and said, 'Uncle, I am innocent,' I would have believed him against all the evidence in the world. It is not I who condemn him, he has condemned himself. He sends me no word; he cannot look me in the face and declare himself innocent. He runs away at night, knowing well that there could be but one construction as to this, and that all would judge him guilty. No, Alice, it breaks my heart to say so, but I can struggle no longer against these facts. The lad whom I have loved as a son has turned out a thief."

"No, uncle, no," the girl cried passionately, "I will never believe it, not to the end of my life. I cannot prove him innocent, but I know he is so, and some day it will be proved; but till then I shall still think of him as my dear brother, as my true-hearted brother, who has been wrongfully accused, and who is the victim of some wicked plot of which, perhaps, Fred Barkley knows more than any one else," and, bursting into a passion of tears, she ran from the room. Fred looked after her with an expression of pity and sorrow.

"Poor child!" he said, "it is a terrible blow for her, and she scarce knows what she is saying."

"It is a terrible blow," Captain Bayley said, in a dreary voice, "a most terrible blow to me and to her. No wonder she feels it; and I have been planning and hoping that some day, a few years hence, those two would get to like each other in a different way. I had, by my will, divided my fortune equally between you and him, but I have liked him best. Of course, I brought him up, and he has been always with me; it was natural that I should do so. Still I wanted to be fair, and I divided it equally. But I was pleased at the thought that her fortune, which is, as you know, a very large one, would be his, and enable him to make a great figure in the world if he had chosen; and now it is all over.

"Go away now, my boy, the blow has been too much for me. I am getting an old man, and this is the second great blow I have had. Do not take to heart the wild words of poor little Alice. You see she scarcely knows what she is saying."

Without another word Fred took his departure. When once out of sight of the house his steps quickened, and he walked briskly along.

"Splendid!" he said to himself; "a grand stroke indeed, and perfectly safe. Frank is not likely to return for twenty years, if ever, and I don't think the old man is good for another five. I expect I shall have some trouble with that little cat, Alice; but she is only a child, and will come round in time, and her fortune will be quite as useful to me as it would have been to him. I always knew he was little better than a fool, but I could hardly have hoped that he would have walked into the trap as he has done. I suppose that other blow old Bayley spoke of was that affair of his daughter. That was a lucky business for me too."

Fred Barkley was not mistaken, it was of his daughter Captain Bayley had been thinking when he spoke. He had married young when he first went out to India, and had lost his wife two years later, leaving him with a daughter six months old. He had sent her home to England, and after a twenty years' absence he had returned and found her grown up.

She had inherited something of her father's passionate disposition, and possessed, in addition, an amount of sullen obstinacy which was wholly alien to his nature. But her father saw none of these defects in her character. She was very beautiful, with an air of pride and hauteur which he liked. She had a right to be proud, he thought, for she was a very wealthy heiress, for, his two elder brothers having died childless while he was in India, the fine property of their father had all descended to him.

Though the girl had many suitors, she would listen to none of them, having formed a strong attachment to a man in station altogether beneath her. He had given lessons in drawing at the school which had been her home as well as her place of education during her father's absence, for Captain Bayley had quarrelled with his sisters, both of whom, he considered, had married beneath them.

The fact that Ella Bayley was an only child, and that her father was a wealthy man, was known in the school, and had, in some way, come to the ears of the drawing-master, who was young, and by no means ill-looking. He had played his cards well. Ella was romantic and impetuous, and, before long, returned the devotion which her teacher expressed for her.

When her father returned home, and Ella left school to take her place at the head of his establishment, she had hoped that she should be able to win from him a consent to her engagement; but she found his prejudices on the subject of birth were strong, and she waited two years before she broached the subject.

The wrath of Captain Bayley was prodigious; he heaped abusive epithets upon the man of her choice, till Ella's temper rose also. There was a passionate quarrel between father and daughter. The next morning Ella was missing; a week afterwards Captain Bayley received a copy of the certificate of her marriage, with a short note from Ella, saying that when he could make his mind up to forgive her and her husband, and to acknowledge that the latter did not deserve the abusive language that he had applied to him, she should be glad to return and resume her place as his affectionate and loving daughter. She gave an address at which he could communicate to her.

Three years passed before Captain Bayley's anger had sufficiently calmed down for him to write to his daughter saying that he forgave her. The letter was returned by the people at the house, with a note saying that many months had elapsed since any inquiries had been made for letters for Mrs. Smedley, and that they had altogether lost sight of her. Now that the Captain had once made up his mind to forgive his daughter, he was burning with impatience to see her again, and he at once employed a detective to find out what had become of her.

From the person to whose house the letter had been directed the detective learned the address where she and her husband had resided while in London.

For a time it seemed they had lived expensively, the sale of Ella's jewels keeping them in luxury for some months. Then hard times had come upon them; the man had altogether lost his connection as a teacher, and could, or would, do nothing to support his wife and himself; they had moved from the place they had first lived at, and taken much smaller lodgings.

Here the people of the house reported their life had been very unhappy; the husband had taken to drink, and there had been fierce and frequent quarrels between them, arising—the landlady had gleaned, from the loud and angry utterance of the husband—from the wife's refusal to appeal to her father for assistance. They had left this place suddenly, and in debt; thence they had moved from lodging to lodging at short intervals, their position getting worse, until they were last lodged in a wretched garret. From this point they were traced with great trouble down to Nottingham, where the husband obtained a precarious living by producing designs for embroidery and curtains.

Had he been steady he might have soon done fairly, but a great part of his time was spent in public-houses, and he was seldom sober. When returning home one night in a state of drunkenness, he was run over by a heavy van and killed. As his wife possessed but a few shillings in the world, he was buried at the expense of the parish and his widow at once left the town.

The people where she lodged believed that she had gone to London, taking with her her six months old child, and had started to tramp the way on foot. The woman said that she doubted whether she could ever have got there. She was an utterly broken woman, with a constant racking cough, which was like to tear her to pieces, and before she set out her landlady had urged upon her that the idea of her starting to carry a heavy child to London was nothing short of madness.

After this all trace of Ella had been lost. Advertisements offering large rewards appeared in the papers; the books of every workhouse between Nottingham and London, and indeed of almost every workhouse in England, were carefully searched to see if there was any record of the death of a woman with a child about the time of her disappearance. A similar search was made at all the London hospitals, and at every institution where she might have crawled to die; but no trace had ever been found of her.

That she was dead was not doubted; for it was found that at Nottingham she had once gone to the parish doctor for some medicine for her child. The physician had taken particular notice of her, had asked her some questions, and had made a note in his case-book that the mother of the child he had prescribed for was in an advanced stage of consumption, and had probably but a few weeks, certainly not more than a few months, to live.

It was long before the search was given up as hopeless, and many hundreds of pounds were spent by Captain Bayley before he abandoned all hope of discovering, if not his daughter, at least her child. During the year which elapsed before he was forced to acknowledge that it was hopeless, Captain Bayley had suffered terribly. His self-reproaches were unceasing, and he aged many years in appearance.

It was three years after this, on the death of his sister, Mrs. Norris, whose husband had died some years before, that he took Frank into his house and adopted him as his son, stating, however, to all whom it might concern, that he did not regard him as standing nearer to him as his heir than his other nephew, Fred Barkley, but that his property would be divided between them as they might show themselves worthy of it. It was three years later still, that, at the death of her father, an old fellow-officer, his household was increased by the addition of Alice, who had been left to his guardianship, but who had soon learned, like Frank, to address him as uncle.



CHAPTER XV.

THE MISSING HEIR.

IT was a long time before the house in Eaton Square in any way recovered its former appearance. Captain Bayley had lost much of his life and vivacity, and, as the servants remarked to each other, nothing seemed to put him out. He went for his morning ride in the Park, or his afternoon visit to the Club, as usual, but his thoughts seemed far away; he passed old friends without seeing them, and if stopped he greeted them no longer with a cheery ring in his voice, or a quick smile of welcome. Every one who knew him remarked that Bayley was going down hill terribly fast, and was becoming a perfect wreck.

Frank's name was never now mentioned in the house. Its utterance had not been forbidden, but it had been dropped as a matter concerning which a hopeless disagreement existed. Alice had changed almost as much as her uncle. Her spirits were gone; her voice was no longer heard singing about the house; she no longer ran up and down the stairs with quick springing footsteps, and indeed seemed all at once to have changed from a young girl into a young woman. Sometimes, as she sat, the tears filled her eyes and rolled fast down her cheeks; at other times she would walk about with her eyebrows knitted, and hands clenched, and lips pursed together, a little volcano of suppressed anger.

Although no discussion on the subject had taken place between her and her guardian, it was an understood thing that she maintained her opinion, and that she regarded Fred Barkley as an enemy. If she happened to be in the room when he was announced, she would rise and leave it without a word; if he remained to a meal, she would not make her appearance in the dining or drawing rooms.

"Alice still regards me as the incarnation of evil," Fred said, with a forced laugh, upon one of those occasions.

"The child is a trump," Captain Bayley said warmly, "a warm lover and a good hater. What a thing it is," he said, with a sigh, "to be at an age when trust and confidence are unshakable, and when nothing will persuade you that what you wish to believe is not right; what would I not give for that child's power of trust?"

The household in Eaton Square were almost unanimous in Frank's favour. His genial, hearty manners rendered him a universal favourite with the servants; and although none knew the causes of Frank's sudden disappearance, the general opinion was that, whatever had happened, he could not have been to blame in the matter.

His warmest adherent was Evan Holl, who had months before been introduced to the house as assistant knife and boot cleaner by Frank. He did not sleep there, going home at nine o'clock in the evening when his work was done.

"Do you know, Harry," he said, one day, "what a rum crest, as they calls it,—I asked the butler what it meant, and he says as how it was the crest of the family—Captain Bayley has; he's got it on his silver, and I noticed it when I was in the pantry to-day helping the butler to clean some silver dishes which had been lying by unused for some time. 'All families of distinction,' the butler said,—he is mighty fond of using hard long words—'all families of distinction,' says he, ''as got their own crest, which belongs to them and no one else. Now this 'ere crest of the guv'nor's is a hand holding a dagger, and the hand has only got three fingers.' I said as how there was two missing, and that the chap as did it couldn't have known much of his business to go and leave out two fingers. But the butler says, 'That's your hignorance,' says he; 'the hand 'as got only three fingers because a hancestor of the Captain's in the time of the Crusaders'—— 'And what's the Crusaders?' says I. 'The Crusaders was a war between the English and the Americans hundreds of years ago,' says he."

Harry burst into a shout of laughter. "Mr. Butler does not know anything about it, for the Crusades were wars between people who went out to the Holy Land to recover the Holy Sepulchre from the Turks who held it."

"Ah, well," Evan said, "it don't make no odds whether they was Turks or Americans. However, the butler says as how the Captain Bayley what lived in those days, he saw a red Injun a-crawling to stab the king, who was a-lying asleep in his tent, and just as his hand was up to stick in the knife, Captain Bayley he gives a cut with his sword which whips off two of the fingers, and before the Injun could turn round and go at him he gives another cut, and takes off his hand at the wrist, and the next cut he takes off his head; so the hand with three fingers holding a dagger was given him to carry as a crest. I suppose after a time the hand got wore out, or got bad, so as he couldn't have carried it about no longer, and instead of that, as a kind of remembrance of the affair, he 'as them put on his forks and spoons."

Mrs. Holl had been listening with grave interest to the narrative.

"Does I understand you to say, Evan, that no other family but that of the master's put this three-fingered hand with a knife on to their things?"

"That's so, mother; leastways it's what the butler says about it."

"Then if that's the case," Mrs. Holl said thoughtfully, "any one who has got this crest, as you calls it, on his things must be a relation of the Captain."

"I suppose so, mother; he might be a long distance off, you know, because this ere affair took place hundreds of years ago, and there may be a lot of the same family about in different parts."

"So there might," Mrs. Holl said, in a disappointed voice.

"Why, mother," Harry said, "one would think it made some difference to you, you speak so mournfully about it."

"It don't make no difference to me, Harry," Mrs. Holl said, "but it makes a lot of difference to you. You know I told you two or three months ago how you come to be here. I don't know as I told you that round the neck of your mother, when she died in that room, was a bit of silk ribbon, and on it was a little seal of gold, with a red stone in it, which I put by very careful for you, though what good such a thing would do to you, or anybody else, I didn't see. Well, on that red stone there was something cut; and father he took it to a chap as understands about those things, who got some red wax, and hotted it, and dropped some of it on a paper, and then squeezed this 'ere stone down on it, and looks at the mark through a eye-glass, and he tells father that it was a hand with three lingers holding a dagger."

"That was curious, mother," Harry said, "very curious. Can you fetch me the seal and let me have a look at it? I don't remember ever having seen it."

The seal was fetched by Mrs. Holl from a pill-box, in which it was carefully stored away in the corner of a drawer. Harry examined it closely.

"It looks like a hand holding a dagger," he said, "but it's too small for me to see whether it has three fingers or four. Evan, will you run round with it to the little watchmaker's in the next street, and ask him to look at it with one of the glasses he sticks in his eye when he is at work, and to tell you whether it has three fingers or four."

Evan returned in a few minutes with the news that the watchmaker at once said that the hand had but three fingers.

"Well, from that, Harry," Mrs. Holl said, "if what this man have been and told Evan is right, you must be some relation to Captain Bayley."

"A cousin, fifty times removed, perhaps," Harry laughed, "but at any rate, it is pleasant to be able to think that I come of a good family."

"You knew that before, Harry," Mrs. Holl said severely, "for I told you over and over again that your mother was a lady, though she was in bad circumstances, and I think, after charring in respectable houses for the last twenty years, I ought to know a lady when I sees one. Well, there's nothing as you think I could do about it?"

"I should think not," Harry laughed. "How the old gent would stare if Evan was to walk up to him and say, 'Captain Bayley, I have got a foster-brother at home who, I think, is a relation of yours.' That would be a nice piece of cheek, wouldn't it?"

Evan laughed.

"However, mother, I votes as in future we calls Harry Harry Bayley instead of Harry Holl."

"You won't do anything of the sort, Evan," the cripple lad answered hotly. "Holl's my name, and you don't suppose I am going to drop the name of the father and mother who brought me up, and have tended me all these years, for Bayley or any other name; besides, even if it should turn out that I am remotely connected with the family, there is no reason why my name should be Bayley, for, of course, if my mother had been a Bayley, she would have changed her name when she married."

Harry thought but little more of the matter, but Mrs. Holl turned it over frequently in her mind, and discussed it with John. John said, "He didn't think much would come of it; still, he didn't see as how there could be any harm in asking, seeing that she had set her mind on it."

So Mrs. Holl resolved to move in the matter. Evan, on being appealed to, said that he did not see how she was to get to speak with Captain Bayley; the footman wouldn't be likely to show her in to his master unless she stated her business. But after much pressing, and declaring over and over again he wished he had never said a word about the hand with three fingers, Evan consented, if he found an opportunity, to ask Captain Bayley to see his mother. This opportunity, however, did not arrive, Evan's duties never bringing him in contact with his employer. At last Mrs. Holl became desperate, and one morning, after breakfast, she went to Captain Bayley's house. The ring at the area-bell brought out the cook.

"What is it?" she said sharply.

"I am the mother, ma'am, of Evan, as works here."

"Well, come down, if you want to see him."

"I don't want to see him, I want to see Captain Bayley."

"I will tell the footman," the cook said, "but I don't think it likely as you can see the Captain."

The footman soon made his appearance. Fortunately he was very young, and had not yet acquired that haughtiness of manner which characterises his class. Evan had before told him that his mother wanted to see Captain Bayley, and had begged him to do his best, should she come, to facilitate her doing so.

"Good morning," he said. "Your boy told me you would be likely enough coming. So you want to see the Captain; he has just finished his breakfast and gone into the study. Now, what shall I say you wants to see him for? I can't show you in, you know, without asking him first."

The young footman was, indeed, curious to know what Mrs. Holl's object could be in wishing to see his master. Evan had resisted all his attempts to find out, simply saying that it was a private affair of his mother's.

"Will you say to him," Mrs. Holl said, "that the mother of the boy as works here under you is most anxious for to see him just for two or three minutes; that it ain't nothing to do with the boy, but she wishes particular to ask Captain Bayley a question—if he will be so good as to see her—that no one else but hisself could answer."

"It's a rum sort of message," the young footman said, "but, anyhow, I will give it; the Captain ain't as hot-tempered as he used to be, and he can but say he won't see you."

Captain Bayley looked mystified when the footman delivered Mrs. Holl's message to him; then he remembered that it was Frank who had introduced her son to help in the house, and he wondered whether her errand could have any connection with him.

"Well, show her up, James," he said; "but just tell her that my time is precious, and that I don't want to listen to long rambling stories, so whatever she has got to say, let her say it straight out."

"It's all right," James said, as, descending to the kitchen, he beckoned Mrs. Holl to follow him; "but the Captain says you are to cut it short; so if you wants an answer you had best put your question, whatever it is, short and to the point, or he will snap you up in a minute, I can tell you."

Mrs. Holl followed into the library. She was at no time a very clear-headed thinker, and the difficulty of putting her question into a few words pressed heavily upon her.

"Now, my good woman, what is it?" Captain Bayley said, as she entered. "I am going out in a few minutes, so come straight to the point, if you please."

"I will come as straight as I can, sir," Mrs. Holl said breathlessly, "but indeed, sir, I am a bad hand at explaining things, and if you snaps me up I shall never get on with it."

Captain Bayley smiled a little. "Well, I will try and not snap you up if you will come to the point. Now, what is the point?"

"The point, sir," Mrs. Holl said despairingly, "is a hand with three fingers a-holding of a dagger."

Captain Bayley looked astonished. "You mean my crest," he said; "why, what on earth are you driving at?"

"Evan saw it on the forks," Mrs. Holl explained.

"Yes, no doubt he did," Captain Bayley said; "but what of that? That's my crest."

"Yes, sir, so Evan said, and when he told me it just knocked me silly like, and says I to him, says I——"

"Never mind what you said to him," Captain Bayley broke in, "what is it you want to say to me? What is there curious in my crest being on my spoons? Now just wait one minute, and tell me as plainly as you can."

Mrs. Holl waited a minute.

"Well, sir, it struck me all in a heap, because I've got in the house a thing with just such another hand, a-holding of a knife in it."

"Oh!" Captain Bayley said, "you have got some article with my crest on it in your house. How did you come by it? It must have been stolen."

"No, sir, I will take my davey as the young person as was my son Harry's mother never stole nothing in her life."

"The young person who was your son Harry's mother," Captain Bayley repeated, in a somewhat puzzled tone. "Are you talking of yourself?"

"Lor' no, sir, the young person."

"But what young person do you mean? How can any young person have been your son Harry's mother except yourself?"

"He ain't really my son, you see, sir; he is the son of a young person who we took in, John and I, and who died at our house; Harry is her son."

A great change passed over Captain Bayley's face, the expression of impatience died out, and was succeeded by one almost of awe. He dropped the paper which he had hitherto held in his hand, and leaning forward he asked in low tones—

"Do you mean that a woman who had in her possession some article with my crest on it, and who had a child with her, died in your house?"

"Yes, sir, that's what I mean; the article is a little gold seal, with a red stone to it."

"How long ago was this?" came slowly from Captain Bayley's lips.

"About seventeen years ago," Mrs. Holl said. "The mother died a few days afterwards; the child is our Harry; and I came to ask you—but, good lawks!"

An ashen greyness had been stealing across the old officer's face, and Mrs. Holl was terrified at seeing him suddenly fall forward across the table.

She rushed to the door to ask for help. James was in the hall, having waited there, expecting momentarily to hear his master tell him to show his visitor out. He began to utter exclamations of dismay at seeing his master's senseless figure.

"I will lift him up," she said. "Run and fetch the butler and the cook, and then go for the doctor as quick as you can run; he has got a stroke."

The butler was first upon the scene. Mrs. Holl had already lifted Captain Bayley into a sitting position. "I have taken off his necktie and opened his collar," she said. The butler, who was unaware of Mrs. Holl's presence there, was astonished at the scene.

"Who are you?" he gasped, "and what have you been doing to the Captain? If you have killed him it will be a hanging matter, you know."

"Don't you be a fool," retorted Mrs. Holl sharply, "but run for some water; he has got a stroke, though what it came from is more nor I can tell."

To be called a fool by this unknown woman of coarse appearance roused the butler's faculties. He was sincerely attached to his master, and without reply he at once hurried away for water.

In five minutes the doctor, who lived close by, entered. Mrs. Holl was still holding up the insensible man; Alice stood crying beside her, the servants were looking on.

"Open the windows," he said.

Then he felt the Captain's pulse. For some time he stood silent; then he said—

"Lay him down at full length on the couch." Mrs. Holl, without the least effort, lifted the slight figure and laid it on the sofa.

"Now," the doctor said, "will you all leave the room except Miss Hardy and you?" he nodded to Mrs. Holl. As the servants retired reluctantly, the butler said—

"Please, sir, I don't know whether you know it, but that woman was with him alone when he got insensible. I don't know what she did to him, but I should recommend that we should have a policeman in readiness."

"Nonsense," the surgeon said. "However, it will be better that she should retire; but let her wait outside, close at hand, in case he wishes to speak to her."

Sarah Holl followed the servants into the hall. The doctor poured a few drops of cordial between Captain Bayley's lips, and placed some strong salts beneath his nostrils.

"You think he will come round?" Alice asked.

"He will come round," the doctor said confidently; "his pulse is gaining power rapidly. It is not paralysis, but a sort of fainting-fit, brought on, I should imagine, by some sudden shock; his heart is weak, and there was a sudden failure of its powers. I have warned him over and over again not to excite himself. However, I think there is no great harm done this time; but he must be careful in future; another such attack and it might go hard with him. See, he is coming round." In a few minutes Captain Bayley opened his eyes and looked round vaguely.

"Lie quiet for a little while, my dear sir," the doctor said cheerfully; "you have been ill, a sort of fainting-fit, but you will be all right in a short time. Drink this glass of cordial." He lifted his patient's head, and held the glass to his lips. As Captain Bayley drank it Alice placed a pillow under his head.

"How was it?" Captain Bayley asked, in a low tone.

"We don't know," the Doctor said; "but don't think about it at present. What you have to do now is to get quite strong again; it will be time afterwards for you to think what upset you. You have given Miss Hardy here quite a fright."

Captain Bayley nodded to Alice. "I never did such a thing before," he said. "I was reading here in the library——" Then he stopped, a sudden flush came to his face.

"Don't agitate yourself, my dear sir," the Doctor said soothingly, "agitation now would be a very serious thing. Drink a little more of this."

Captain Bayley did as he was told, and then asked—

"Where is the woman who was speaking to me?"

"She is outside," the Doctor said. "I told her to wait. But you really must not see her for a time."

"I am all right now," Captain Bayley said, rising to his elbow, "and it will agitate me less to see her than to wait. She brought me very strange news, news which I never thought to hear. It is not bad news, my dear," he said, to Alice, "it is the best news I ever heard. You need not go away, Doctor," he said, seeing the physician was preparing to leave; "you are an old friend, and know all about it; besides, it is no secret. You know how I searched for very many years for my daughter and her child, and came at last to the conclusion that both must be dead, for she was in a dying state when last heard of. Well, I have found that the boy is alive. He has been brought up by the woman who is the mother of a boy who works here."

"Oh! I know," Alice exclaimed, "Frank told me the story. She had told him about a woman who had fallen down at her door years ago, and how she had brought up the child. But O uncle!" she said pitifully, "I have a sad thing to tell you. Frank said that he was such a nice boy, so clever and good. Frank used to go and help him with his books, and he can read Latin and all sorts of things; but, uncle, he met with an accident when he was little, and he is a cripple."

For a minute Captain Bayley was silent.

"It is part of my punishment, dear," he said at last, "God's will be done. However, cripple or not, I am thankful to find that, from what you say, he is a boy whom I can own without shame, for the thought has troubled me always, that, should Ella's son be alive, he might have grown up a companion of thieves, a wandering vagabond. Thank God, indeed, it is not so! I am glad you told me, Alice. Now, let me see this good woman who has been a mother to him."

Mrs. Holl was again called in, and was asked to sit down.

"The question you wished to ask me," Captain Bayley said, "was, I suppose, whether I could give you any clue as to who was the woman you took in, and whose child you adopted? She was my daughter."

"Lor', sir!" Mrs. Holl exclaimed, "who would have thought such a thing?"

"Who, indeed," Captain Bayley repeated; "but so it was. For years I sought for her in vain, and had long since given up all hope of ever hearing of her. Have you got the seal with you?"

After some search Mrs. Holl produced from the corner of her capacious pocket the seal, carefully wrapped up in paper.

"That is it," Captain Bayley said, with a sigh. "Alice, go to my desk, open the inner compartment, and there you will see the fellow to it." Alice did as he requested.

"There, you see, Doctor, they are exactly alike. They were both made at the same time, soon after I returned from India, and now, Mrs. Holl, please tell us the whole story as I understand you told it to my nephew."

Mrs. Holl repeated the story in nearly the same words that she had used to Frank.

"God bless you!" Captain Bayley said, when she finished. "No words can tell how grateful I am to you, or how deeply I am moved at the thought of the kindness which you and your husband, strangers as you were to her, showed to my poor girl. I hope you will not mind sparing him to me now; your claims are far greater than mine, but you have other children, while I, with the exception of my ward here, am alone in the world."

"Lor', sir," Mrs. Holl said, wiping her eyes with her apron, "of course we will spare him. We shall miss him sorely, for he has indeed been a comfort and a blessing to us; but it is for his good, and you won't mind his coming to see us sometimes."

"Mind!" Captain Bayley exclaimed, "he would be an ungrateful rascal if he did not want to come and see you constantly. Well, if you will go home and prepare him a little, I will come round this afternoon and see him. It's no use shaking your head, Doctor, I feel myself again now; but I will lie down till lunch-time, and will promise not to excite myself."



CHAPTER XVI.

JOHN HOLL, DUST CONTRACTOR.

IT was a pathetic meeting between Captain Bayley and his newly-found grandson. The latter had been astounded at the wonderful news that Mrs. Holl had brought home. His first thought was that of indignation, that his mother should have been a penniless wanderer in the streets of London, while her father was rolling in wealth; but Mrs. Holl's description of the old officer's agitation and pleasure, and the long efforts which he had made to find his daughter, convinced him that there must at least have been some fault on both sides.

"My poor boy," Captain Bayley said, as he entered the room, "if you knew how long and earnestly I have sought for you, and how many years I have grieved and repented my harshness to your mother, you would not find it in your heart to think hardly of me. We were both to blame, my boy, and we were both punished, heavily punished; but you shall have all the story some day. I know that it must be a bitter thought for you that she died homeless, save for the shelter which this good woman afforded her; but I hope that you will be able to find it in your heart to forgive an old man who has been terribly punished, and that you will let me do my best to atone by making your life as happy as I can."

Harry took the hand which the old officer held out to him.

"For myself, I have nothing to forgive, sir. My life has been a happy one, thanks to the kindness and love of my father and mother here; as to my real mother, of course, I do not remember her, nor is it for me to judge between her and you. At any rate I can well believe that you must have suffered greatly. I have been thinking it over, and it seems to me that the mere fact that your wishes have at last been carried out, and that you have so strangely found your daughter's son, would seem as if any wrongs you did her are considered by God as atoned for. I am sorry that I am a cripple; I have been sorry before sometimes, but never so sorry as now, for it must be a great disappointment to you."

"I am so pleased at finding you as you are, my boy," Captain Bayley said, "for I had feared that if you were alive it must be as a vagrant, or perhaps even a criminal, that your bodily misfortune is as nothing in my eyes. This is my ward, Miss Hardy; she is something like a granddaughter to me, and is prepared to be a sister to you."

"I have heard of her from Evan, sir," Harry said, with a bright look at the girl. "He has told me how every one in the house loves her, and how fond my kind friend——" But here he stopped abruptly. The tale of Frank's sudden departure was a subject of frequent discussion at the Holls', as well as in the servants' hall in Eaton Square; and although Harry's indignation on behalf of his friend had been extreme, he paused now before uttering the name, for at this first meeting with his relation he felt that no unpleasant topic should be introduced.

There was a moment's silence as he paused, but Alice advanced fearlessly and gave the boy her hand.

"Thank you, Harry, for what you say, and we shall be all the better friends because you love, as I do, my dear good cousin, Frank."

"Well, Harry," Captain Bayley said hastily, "when will you come home to me? I don't want to press you to leave your kind friends here too suddenly, but I am longing to have you home. I have the carriage at the end of the street if you will come now."

"No, grandfather, not to-day; I will come to-morrow. Father took his dinner away with him, and he will not be back till this evening, and I am not going to let him come and find me gone."

"Quite right, my boy, quite right," Captain Bayley said. "Then to-morrow, at eleven o'clock, I will come round in the carriage and fetch you. Mrs. Holl, remember that Harry Bayley owes you a deep debt of gratitude, which he will do his best some day to repay as far as it is in his power. Good-bye, Harry, for the present. I am glad your mother gave you my name; it seems to show she thought kindly of me at the last. Perhaps she found, poor girl, that I had not been altogether wrong in my opposition to her unhappy fancy."

The following day Harry was installed in Eaton Square. Captain Bayley was delighted to find how easily and naturally he fell into the new position, how well he expressed himself, and how wide was his range of knowledge.

"He is a gentleman, every inch," he exclaimed delightedly to Alice. "If you knew how I have thought of him you would understand how happy it makes me to see him what he is."

Captain Bayley lost no time in obtaining the best possible surgical advice for his grandson; their opinion was not as favourable as he had hoped. Had he been properly treated at the time of his accident he might, they said, have made a complete recovery; but now it was too late. However, they thought that by means of surgical appliances, and a course of medicinal baths, he might recover the use of his legs to some extent, and be able to walk with crutches. This was something, and the Captain determined at once to carry their advice into effect.

Between Alice Hardy and the lad a strong friendship speedily sprang up. The girl's bright talk, which was so different from anything he had hitherto experienced was very delightful to the lad; but the strong bond between them was their mutual feeling about Frank. From her Harry learned the charge under which Frank laboured, and his indignant repudiation of the possibility of such a thing delighted Alice's heart; hitherto she had been alone in her belief, and it was delightful to her to talk with one who was of her own way of thinking. She infected Harry with her own dislike and suspicions of Fred Barkley, and amused the lad greatly by telling him how, when she had heard of the discovery of his existence, she had, when Mrs. Holl left, gone straight up to her room and indulged in a wild dance of delight at the destruction of Fred's hope of being Captain Bayley's sole heir.

"It was glorious," she said. "I knew Fred hated Frank, though Frank, silly old boy, was always taking his part with me, and scolding me because I didn't like his cousin; and I am quite, quite sure that he has had something to do with getting Frank into this dreadful scrape, and it was glorious to think that just when he thought that he had got the field clear, and uncle Harry all to himself, you should suddenly appear and put his nose out of joint. That's a very unladylike expression, Harry, and I know I oughtn't to use it, but there's nothing else does so well. It's Fred's holidays now, and he is away; I expect uncle will write and tell him all about it. I wish he wouldn't, for I would give anything to see his face when he walks in and sees you sitting here and hears who you are."

"Oh! but I hope," Harry said, "that grandfather won't make any difference to any one because of me. What would be the use of much money to me. Of course I should like to have a little house, with a man to wheel me about; but what could I want beyond that?"

"Oh! nonsense, Harry. In the first place you are going to get better; and even if you were not, you could enjoy life in lots of ways. Of course you would have nice carriages and horses; you might keep a yacht—Frank was always saying that he would like to have a yacht,—and I don't see why you shouldn't go into Parliament. I am sure you are clever enough, and I have heard uncle say that three-fourths of the members are fools. He says something naughty before fools, but you know he swears dreadfully; he does not mean it, not in the least; I suppose he learned it in India. I tell him it is very wrong sometimes, but he says he is too old to get rid of bad habits. I wish he wouldn't do it; and the worst of it is, Harry," she said plaintively, "that instead of being very much shocked, as I ought to be, very often I can hardly help laughing, he does put in that dreadful word so funnily."

"No, I should not care about being in Parliament," the boy said. "If I were ever so rich I think I might like a yacht; still, a yacht, if it were only a small one, would cost a great deal of money, and I do hope that grandfather won't disappoint any one for my sake."

Captain Bayley had, however, a few days after the discovery of his grandson, and after having satisfied himself how lovable the lad was, and how worthy in all respects to be his heir, written to Fred Barkley, telling him that his grandson had been found, and that he was all that he could wish to find him.

"Naturally, Fred," he wrote, "this will make a considerable difference in your prospects. At the same time, as you have been led to believe that you would come into a considerable property at my death, and as you have done nothing to forfeit my confidence and affection, having proved yourself in all ways a steady and industrious and honourable young fellow, I do not consider it right that you should be altogether disinherited by a discovery which has occasioned me such vast pleasure. I have therefore instructed my solicitor to prepare a new will. By this he will settle my property in Warwickshire, and my town house, upon my grandson; but my other house property, and a portion of my money in stocks and shares, which has been accumulating for many years, will be left to you, the value of the legacy being, I calculate, about one-half of that of the property left to my grandson. Thus you will be in nearly the same position you would have occupied had not your cousin Frank forfeited, by his disgraceful conduct, his place in my affections."

Whatever may have been the feelings of Fred Barkley when he received this communication, he wrote a graceful letter of congratulation to his uncle, expressing his pleasure at the discovery of his long-lost grandson, and with many thanks for his kind intention on his own behalf. His anger and disappointment were so great that he did not return to town until the day before he was going up to Cambridge—having left Westminster at the end of the preceding term—for he did not feel himself equal, before that time, to continue to play his part, and to express personally the sentiments which he had written. What rendered his disappointment even more bitter was the thought that, indirectly, it was Frank who had dealt him the blow, for Captain Bayley had mentioned in his letter that it was through the boy whom his cousin had recommended as an assistant to the footman that the discovery had been made.

The visit that he paid at Eaton Square was a short one. To his relief Alice was not present, for he was certain that she would have watched him with malicious pleasure. But there had been a passage of arms between her and her guardian of a more serious nature than any which had occurred since she had been under his care, owing to her having expressed herself with her usual frankness respecting Fred's visit.

Her guardian had resented this warmly, and had rated her so severely as to what he called her wicked prejudice against Fred, that she had retired to her room in tears. This defeat of his favourite had not predisposed Harry to any more favourable opinion of his unknown cousin; but Fred, relieved from the presence of Alice, acted his part so well, and infused so genuine a ring into the tone of his congratulations, that he did much to dissipate the prejudice with which Harry was prepared to regard him. Alice was quick to observe the impression which Fred had made, and quarrelled hotly with Harry concerning it.

"I am disappointed in you altogether, Harry. I have looked upon you as being a real friend of Frank, and now you desert him directly his enemy says a few soft words to you. I despise such friendship, and I don't want to have anything more to say to you."

In vain Harry protested. The girl flung herself out of the room in deep anger, and thenceforth, for a long time, Harry was made to feel that although she wished to be civil to him as her guardian's grandson, yet that the bond of union between them was entirely broken. Harry himself had lost no time in speaking to his grandfather on behalf of Frank.

"My dear Harry," the old man said, "my faith in his innocence was as strong as yours, and, crushing as the proofs seemed to be, I would never have doubted him had he defended himself. But he did not; he never sent me a line to ask me to suspend my judgment or to declare his innocence; he ran away like a thief at night, and, although Fred generously tried to soften the fact to me, there is no doubt he admitted his guilt to him. Still, after the lesson I had in your mother's case, I would forgive him did I know where he was.

"I do not say, Harry, that I would restore him to his place in my affection and confidence, that of course would be impossible; but I would willingly send him a cheque for a handsome amount, say for five thousand pounds, to establish him in business, or set him up in a farm in one of the colonies."

"That is no use, grandfather," Harry said, "if he is innocent—as I most firmly believe him to be, in spite of everything against him, and shall believe him to be to my dying day, unless he himself tells me that he was guilty—he will not accept either your forgiveness or your money. What I wish is that he could be found. I wish that I could see him, or that you could see him, face to face, and that we could hear from his own lips what he has to say. He might, at least, account for his foolish running away instead of facing it out.

"We do not know how desperate he might have been at being unable to clear himself from the charge brought against him. Remember, he could not have known how hotly you were working on his behalf, and may have believed himself altogether deserted. He may account for not having written to you. And we must remember, grandfather—mind I do not share all Alice's prejudice, and have no inclination in any way to doubt the honesty of my cousin Fred—but at the same time, in bare justice to Frank, we must not forget that Fred was really a rival of his in your affections, and that he would possibly benefit greatly by Frank's disgrace, and, we must also remember that the only evidence against Frank, with the exception of the circumstantial proof, comes from him.

"It was he who furnished Frank with funds to enable him to run away, and we cannot tell whether or not he did not even urge him to fly. You must remember, grandfather, that Alice asserts Fred always hated Frank. I know she is prejudiced, and that you never noticed the feeling, nor did Frank; but children's perceptions are very quick. And even allowing that she liked Frank much the best, Fred was always, as she admits, very kind and attentive to her—more so, in some ways, than Frank, and there was no reason, therefore, for her taking up such a prejudice had she not been convinced that it was true.

"Now, grandfather, I will tell you what has occurred to me. I know it will appear a hideously unjust suspicion to you, but I will tell you once for all, and we will not recur to the subject again; God knows I may be wronging him cruelly, but the wrong would be no greater than that which has been done to Frank if he is really innocent.

"Ever since you told me the whole story, I have lain awake at night thinking it over. It may be that what Alice has said may have turned my thoughts that way, but I can see only two explanations of the affair.

"Frank is really guilty, or he is altogether innocent. If he is innocent, who was guilty? Some one took the note, some one sent it to Frank, and this some one must be a person who knew that Frank was in need of it; whoever did so can only have done it with one of two motives, either to get Frank out of trouble, or to bring disgrace upon him. Only four boys knew of the affair, and they all declare that they told no one else. If they spoke truly it was one of these four sent him the note—always supposing that he did not take it himself. Of the other three I know nothing; but I will take the case of Fred and view it as if he was a stranger to both of us.

"He was a rival of Frank's. Alice declares he hated him. At any rate he would benefit greatly by Frank's disgrace. What did he do when Frank asked him to help him? He refused to do so, on the ground that he had no money; but two days later he was able to raise double the sum Frank then wanted in order to assist him to fly. Dreadful as the supposition is, it seems to me that the only positive alternative to supposing Frank to be guilty is to believe that his cousin took this note and sent it to him in order to bring him into disgrace, and that he afterwards urged and assisted him to fly in order to stamp his guilt more firmly upon him."

While Harry had been speaking Captain Bayley had paced up and down the room.

"Impossible, Harry," he exclaimed, "impossible. For, bad as was the case of Frank taking the note on the pressure of the moment to get himself out of the silly scrape into which he had got, this charge which you bring against Fred would be a hundred times, ay, a thousand times worse. It would be a piece of hideous treachery, a piece of villainy of which I can scarce believe a human being capable."

"I do not bring the charge, grandfather," Harry said quietly, "I only state the alternative. That one of your nephews took this note seems to me to be clear; the crime would be infinitely greater, infinitely more unpardonable in the one case than the other, but the incentive, too, was enormously greater. In the one case the only object for the theft would be to avoid the consequence of a foolish, but, after all, not a serious freak; in the other to obtain a large fortune, and to ruin the chances of a dangerous rival.

"Remember, at that time Fred did not know how you had determined to dispose of your property. Frank was living with you, and was apparently your favourite, therefore he may have deemed that it was all or nothing. There, grandfather, I have done. I need not say that I know little of the real disposition of your two nephews. Frank behaved to me with the greatest kindness when I was a poor cripple without the slightest claim upon him. Fred has behaved kindly and courteously, although I have come between him and you. I can only say that I believe that one of these two must be guilty; which it is, God alone knows."

"I wish you had said nothing about it," Captain Bayley groaned, "it is dreadful; I don't know what to do or what to think."

"There is nothing to be done," Harry said, "except, grandfather, to find Frank. Let us find him and see him face to face; let us hear his story from beginning to end, and I think then we shall arrive at a just conclusion. I have no doubt he has gone abroad, and I should advise that you should advertise in all the Colonial and American papers begging him to return to have an interview with you, and offering a handsome reward to any one who will give you information of his whereabouts. If we find where he is, and he will not come to us, we will go to him."

"That's what I will do, Harry. I will not lose a moment's time, but will set about it at once; if I spend ten thousand pounds in advertising I will find him. As to Fred, I cannot meet him again until I get to the bottom of the affair, so we will stay away from England till I get some news of Frank."

Before starting abroad, Captain Bayley carried out his plan for rewarding John and Sarah Holl for the kindness they had shown to Harry. After consultation with his grandson, he had concluded that the best plan of doing so would be to help them in their own mode of life. He accordingly called upon the dust-contractor for whom John Holl worked, a man who owned twenty carts. An agreement was soon come to with him, by which Captain Bayley agreed to purchase his business at his own price, with the whole of the plant, carts, and horses. A fortnight after this John's master said to him one day—

"John, I have sold my business, you are going to have a new master."

"I am sorry for that," John said, "for we have got on very well together for the last fifteen years. Besides," he added thoughtfully, "it may be a bad job for me; I am not as young as I used to be, and he may bring new hands with him."

"I will speak to him about you, John," his master said; "he is a good sort, and I dare say I can manage it. The thing is going to be done well. Three or four new carts are going to be put on instead of some of the old ones, and there are ten first-rate horses coming in place of some of those that are getting past work. The stables are all being done up, and the thing is going to be done tip-top. Curiously enough his name is the same as yours, John Holl."

"Is it now?" John said. "Well, that will be a rum go, to see my own name on the carts, 'John Holl, Dust Contractor.' It don't sound bad, neither. So you will speak to him, gaffer?"

"Ay, I will speak to him," his employer answered.

Three days later John received a message from his master to the effect that the new gaffer would take possession next day, and that he was to call at the office at eleven o'clock. He added that his new employer said that he wished Mrs. Holl to go round with her husband.

John and Sarah were greatly mystified with the latter part of this message, until the solution occurred to them that probably their late employer had mentioned that Mrs. Holl went out charring and cleaning, and that he might intend to engage her to keep the office tidy.

Accordingly, at eleven o'clock on the following day, John and Sarah presented themselves at the office at Chelsea. As they entered the yard they were greatly amused at seeing all the carts ranged along, in the glory of new paint, with "John Holl, Dust Contractor," in large letters on their sides. A boy was in the office, who told them that they were to go to the house. The yard was situated near the river, and the house which adjoined it was a large old-fashioned building, standing in a pretty, walled garden. They went to the back door, and knocked. It was opened by a bright-looking servant-girl.

"Is Mr. Holl in?" Sarah asked.

"You are to be shown in," the girl said, and ushered them into a large, old-fashioned parlour, comfortably furnished.

John and Sarah gave a cry of surprise, for, sitting by the fire, in his wheeled box, just as in the olden time, was Harry.

Scarce a day had passed since he had left them without his coming in for a half-hour for a chat with them, but his appearance here struck them with astonishment.

"What on arth be you a-doing here, Harry?" Mrs. Holl asked. "Do you know our new gaffer?"

"Yes, mother, I know him. Captain Bayley has had some business with him, and asked me to come down here to see him. You are to sit down until he comes."

"But that will never do, Harry. Why, what would he think of us if he comes in and finds us sitting down in his parlour just as if the place belonged to us?"

"It's all right, mother, I will make it right with him; he's a good fellow, is the new gaffer—a first-rate fellow."

"Is he, now?" John asked, interested, as he and Sarah, seeing nothing else to do, sat down. "And his name is John Holl, just the same as mine?"

"Just the same, John, and he's not unlike you either. Now, when I tell you what a kind action he did once, you will see the sort of fellow he is. Once, a good many years ago, when he wasn't as well off as he is now, when he was just a hard-working man, earning his weekly pay, a poor woman with a child fell down dying at his door. Well, you know, other people would have sent for a policeman and had her taken off to the workhouse, but he and his wife took her into their house and tended her till she died."

"That was a right-down good thing," John said, quite oblivious of the fact that he too had done such an action.

Sarah did not speak, but gave a little gasping cry, and threw her apron, which she wore indoors and out, over her head, a sure sign with her that she was going to indulge in what she called "a good cry." John looked at her in astonishment.

"And more than that, John," Harry went on, "they took in the child, and brought it up as one of their own; and though afterwards they had a large family, they never made him feel that he was a burden to them, though he grew up a cripple, and was able to do nothing to repay them for all their goodness. Well, at last the boy's friends were found. They had lots of money, and the time came at last when they bought a business for John Holl; and when he came, there the cripple boy was, sitting at the fire, to welcome them, and say, 'Welcome, father! and welcome, mother!'" and Harry held out his hands to them both.

Even now John Holl did not understand. He was naturally dull of comprehension, and the loud sobbing of his wife so bewildered and confounded him, that it divided his attention with Harry's narrative.

"Yes, Harry," he said, "it's all very nice. But what's come to you, Sarah? What are you making all this fuss about? We shall be having the new master coming in and finding you sobbing and rocking yourself like a mad woman. Cheer up, old woman. What is it?"

"Don't you see, John," Sarah sobbed out, "don't you see Harry has been telling you your own story? Don't you see that it is you he has been talking about, and that you are 'John Holl, Dust Contractor'?"

"Me?" John said, in utter bewilderment.

"Yes, father," Harry said, taking his hand, "you are the John Holl. This house, and the business, and the carts and horses, are yours; Captain Bayley has bought them all for you. He would not come here himself, as I wished him, but he asked me to tell you and mother how glad he was to be able to repay, in a small way, he said your great kindness to me, and how he hoped that you would prosper here, and be as happy as you deserve to be. You will be better off than your last gaffer, for he had to pay rent for this house and yard, but, as grandfather has bought the freehold of them all for you, you will have no rent to pay; and therefore I hope, even in bad times, you will be able to get along comfortably. There, father, there, mother, dry your eyes, and look sharp, for I can hear voices in the garden. Evan went to your house after you had gone to bring all the children round here in a cab.

"You will find everything in the house, mother, and you must get a grand tea as soon as possible. I have got a servant for you—for, you know, you must have a servant now."

The next minute the children came bounding in, wild with delight, and a happier party never assembled than those who sat round the table of "John Holl, Dust Contractor," on the evening of his first taking possession of his new property.



CHAPTER XVII.

THE LONELY DIGGERS.

THE camp increased rapidly, for although no extraordinarily rich finds were made, the valley bottom widened out at this point, and the gold was generally disseminated in quantities sufficient to enable the miners; to live, and every one hoped that, as they got deeper, their claims would increase in value. Every day added to the number of tents and huts. Three bars competed with each other for the favour of the diggers, and two large stores drove a profitable trade in food and mining tools and materials; brawls at the gambling-tables were of nightly occurrence, and no small proportion of the gold obtained by the more fortunate diggers found its way into the pockets of the gamblers.

"I tell you what, Abe," Frank said, a short time after their arrival, when they heard that a young man had been shot down by one of the most notorious ruffians in the camp, "I think it would be a good plan if we were all to agree that we will not enter one of these saloons. I know it's a temptation, after work is over, to saunter in there; but I think such a party as we are are enough for each other. We have done well enough for months out on the plains, and I don't see why we should not do so now. We are friends, and should be awfully sorry to see any one of our number losing his share of our joint earnings at the gambling-tables, or brought home with a bullet-hole in his head.

"If we want a little change, we can always ask one or two of the quiet men to join us round our fire. If we want drink, it is cheaper and better to buy it by the bottle, and have a glass in company here. There is no doubt that any one who takes to drink here may as well hang himself at once, for he will never do any good. I don't know that any of us are inclined that way, but I think it would be a good plan to enter into a sort of agreement with each other that, as long as we are in partnership, none of us shall enter a saloon or stake a dollar in play."

"I agrees with you, Frank. Time has been when I have gone in for as heavy sprees as any one. I don't think as I am likely to do it again, but I am sure that an agreement like that would be a good thing for me as well as the others. What do yer say, boys?"

"The only thing is," Peter suggested, "that we might, one or other, very well get into a bad quarrel by refusing to drink when we are asked. You see it's pretty nigh a deadly offence to refuse to drink with a man; and if it got noticed that none of us ever went into a bar, there are men here who would make a point of asking us to drink just for the sake of making a quarrel if we refused."

"I allow there's something in that," Abe said; "there's no surer way of getting into a mess among a set of men like this than in refusing to drink."

"Well, if that's the case," Frank said, "we must modify the arrangement, and agree that none of us will go into a bar unless actually asked to go and take a drink—that wouldn't be very often, the invitation is generally given inside. We come back from work about the same time that every one else knocks off, and they are not thinking of going to the bars till they have had a meal, and when we are once quietly seated round the fire here no one is very likely to ask any of us to get up and go off to one of the saloons."

The suggestion was adopted, and all bound themselves not to enter a saloon to drink or gamble unless invited to take a drink under circumstances in which a refusal would be taken in bad part.

"I am mighty glad you proposed that," Abe said, afterwards. "Rube is all right, but Peter and Dick are both of 'em fond of going on a spree now and then, and this may keep them from it. I told 'em when we started that I was ready to go partners as long as they kept from drink, but I wasn't going to tie myself up with any one as was going in for that. When we dissolves partnership each one will have a right to do with his share what he likes; he can gamble it away, or drink it away, or fool it away as he chooses, but no man as drinks overnight will do his fair share of work next day. Besides, luck may at any time go agin us, and we may have to fall back on what we have laid by when times were good; and if any one had been and spent his share he couldn't be looking to the others to support him. Besides, as I pinted out, we might want all the money we has got atween us to buy up a claim in a good place. They agreed to it, and so far they have kept to it; not, of course, as they had much chance to do otherwise on the way. Still, I think this fresh agreement's likely to do good. We are working here on shares, and each man is bound to do his best for the others."

After sitting by the fire for some time of an evening, Frank generally got up and strolled round the camp, accompanied by Turk. There were many phases of life presented to him. While the successful diggers were drinking and gambling in the saloons, there were many who could barely keep life together. It was true this was in most cases their own fault, for men willing to work could earn their five dollars a day by labouring in the claims of wealthier or more successful diggers; but many would hold on to their own claims, hoping against hope, and believing always that the ground would get richer as they went down.

Frank chatted freely with every one, and he and his great dog were soon known to every one in camp. He was able to do many little acts of kindness to those whose luck was bad; for on arriving at the end of the journey each of the party had, at Abe's suggestion, put twenty dollars into the common fund, and beyond this amount the sum he had brought with him from Omaha was still untouched; and many a man who would otherwise have gone to bed supperless after a hard day's work, was indebted to him for the means of procuring a few pounds of flour and a pound or two of pork.

His attention had been particularly attracted to two men who lived in a small tent a hundred yards away from any of the others, and who worked a claim by themselves. They did not seem to have any communication with the rest of the diggers, and kept themselves entirely apart. While at work Frank had heard several jeering remarks as to the absurdity of working a claim in a part of the ground which had over and over again been tried and abandoned, and Frank felt sure that the men were doing badly.

One day he observed that only one of the men was at work, the younger of the two; and as he continued to wield his shovel after the others had thrown down their tools for the evening, Frank walked over to him.

"Is your partner ill?" he asked. "I see he is not working with you to-day."

The man nodded, but continued his work without speaking. He was evidently indisposed for conversation.

"Why I asked," Frank said, "was not for mere curiosity, but because we have brought up with us from Sacramento a few bottles of fever medicine, and other things likely to be wanted here, and if any of them would be of use you will be heartily welcome to them. We ought all to help each other, for no one knows whether he himself may not want a helping hand next."

"Thank you," the man said, somewhat gruffly; "we shall get on all right, and my mate isn't fond of strangers."

"I need not trouble him myself," Frank said; "I can bring you round any medicines here, and you can give them to him without saying how you got them."

"Thank you; medicine wouldn't do him any good," the man said, and resumed his work as if anxious to avoid further conversation.

Frank, however, was not to be discouraged. The man looked thin and haggard, and Frank suspected that it might be food rather than medicine of which the man's mate was in need. He therefore stood his ground.

"I am afraid you haven't hit on a very good spot," he said. "I don't know much about it myself, for I have only been here about a month; but I hear every one say that there have been several trials made here, and that none of them have found anything to speak of."

"We must work where we can," the man said. "The places were pretty well all taken up when we came, and it didn't suit us to go further."

"Well," said Frank, "I don't want to be inquisitive, mate, or to interfere in other people's affairs, but I noticed your mate looked an elderly man, and that you seemed pretty much alone. I am only just out here myself, and I and the party I am working with are doing fairly; so I thought it would be only neighbourly to come over and see if I could be of use in any way."