The tears welled into Beatrice's blue eyes and rolled down her now death-like cheeks. "Lawrence," she sobbed at length, "I wish I could say I had, I almost love you Lawrence but I cannot marry you."

"Very well" answered Lawrence drawing his lips tightly together, "I see my journey to France has been made in vain; I may add," he continued "that I came here purposely to encounter you but all in vain! You have no real reason for not wishing to become my wife—it is not possible; but I will now flee from you and perhaps when I am laid upon my bed for the last time and Death has siezed me in its jaws you will repent of your past wrongs!!"

"Oh Lawrence!" Beatrice almost screamed in her agony "just one word before you go!"

"Not one," replied Lawrence, and with these words upon his lips he left the unhappy Beatrice in a swoon upon his floor.

Beatrice had given one hoarse scream as she fell to the floor, and it brought a couple of waiters to the room.

"What is it?" asked one.

"A young lady has fainted" said the other "run for the doctor quick."

The next instant there was a regular crowd round Beatrice all intensely interested, and in less time than it takes to tell old Doctor Holden was bending over Beatrice's white rigid face.

"She has had some shock I fear" said he feeling the thin white hand "can anyone in the crowd tell me where this lady lives?"

There was no sound of a reply for the first few seconds and then came a faint "yes" from the back of the throng.

"Come forward" cried the doctor. A rustling and a murmering of voices ensued and then the figure of a young girl rushed forward. It was Margaret Vindsor who had come out in search of Clara and fearing her to be lost had set out to find her.

"Now" said Dr. Holden giving Margaret a chair, "are you any relation to this young lady, and where does she live?"

"Oh Dr. Holden!" cried Margaret "she is a friend of ours and is on a visit to us—oh what shall I do? Oh poor Beatrice!!"

"Why Miss Vindsor is it you?" Asked Dr. Holden in surprise "Waiter run for a cab, we must take these ladies back to Le Chateau."

It was not long before the cab stopped at the Inn door and Dr. Holden assisted by two waiters lifted Beatrice into the cab and laid her gingerly on the seat, while Margaret speedily followed, and then the doctor himself jumped in and the downcast party drove back to Le Chateau.



CHAPTER 8

Mrs. Vindsor together with Honoria and Clara were waiting breathlessly in the hall when the cab drove up. Honoria flew to the door and the minute she caught sight of the unconscious Beatrice and her sister's pale face she gave a loud scream and tore rapidly to her bedroom. Beatrice was carried to her bedroom at once and the doctor soon left after leaving his directions.

Margaret was in a great state of anxiety, but possessing more self control than the rest of the family she was appointed nurse. Beatrice with the aid of salts and mustard plasters soon came to herself, but Lawrence Cathcart had done his work—rheumatic fever set in and for many days Beatrice hung between life and death. Mr. and Mrs. Langton were sent for and duly arrived but to no one would Beatrice confide the mystery of her illness. The more she thought of it the more ill she became and Honoria prayed a good deal. By the time she was able to get up her mind was made up. She would look for Lawrence Cathcart, ask his pardon and become his wife. Life offered naught else.



CHAPTER 9

Ten years have passed since the events recorded in my last chapter took place, and Beatrice now a woman of 28, is fair and blooming as ever but with an anxious care-worn expression round her face. She no longer lives in the pretty cottage in Senbury Glen for Mr. Langton has lost a great deal of money farming, and he and his family have changed their quarters and live in a dingy little house in a London back street. It would take too long to relate all that has happened in the last years, so I will describe the events as briefly as possible. To begin with little Tina who was always a delicate child has died within the last four years and rests in the churchyard at Senbury Glen. Mary and Lily have had to leave school early and Mary, a girl of twenty is taking lessons in painting while Lily stays at home.

One thing I must not omit to mention is that Beatrice is still on the look out for Lawrence Cathcart but fears she will never find him.

One Spring morning Beatrice comes down to breakfast and finds Mrs. Langton busy with some papers.

"Well mother" she says sadly for her merry tone has completely deserted her, "have you heard of anything I can do to earn my living?"

"Yes dear I think so" replies Mrs. Langton glancing nervously at the manuscript in her hand, "you were always fond of nursing were you not Beatrice?"

"Yes mother, ever since I had that illness" answeres Beatrice "it was poor Margaret Vindsor who put the idea in my head."

"Poor Margaret" says Mrs. Langton, for Margaret may be numbered among the dead.

"Well mother what about me?" asks Beatrice presently.

"Oh I was forgetting" answers Mrs. Langton "I have heard from Captain Harsh and he says if I care to let you go to India he has a capital place for you as a military hospital nurse."

"To attend to the soldiers wounded in battle?" asks Beatrice.

"Yes dear" replies Mrs. Langton, "I will read you the letter—"Madam; Hearing of your daughter's wish to become a hospital nurse, I beg to offer my services. If you do not object to soldiers I have a lovely place out here in India where her only work will be to attend to the soldiers in their bungalows either in the night or day as her turn comes round. She will live with the other nurses in a comfortable house not far from the battle field. She will be expected to bring her own clothes, cups, plates and knives etc: She must be cheerful and kind and must make herself obliging to the soldiers. I will expect her by the next mail.

Believe me, Madam, Yours very sincerely, GEORGE HARSH (Captain of the 109th Regiment.)

"That sounds very nice mother" answers Beatrice "I think I will go."

"What about the character you are expected to have?" says Mrs. Langton artfully.

"I think I am both cheerful and kind" says Beatrice hotly "and as to being obliging to the soldiers, anybody could do that."

"Perhaps so," smiles Mrs. Langton, "then I will write to Captain Harsh and say you will go by the next mail."

For many days after this Beatrice is busy preparing for the voyage. And at last the eventful day arrives and Beatrice clad for the first time in her nurse's costume steps on board the Victory which is to take her to the wonderful city of Calcutta.

"Poor Mr. Langton gets quite frantic as he waves his red pocket handkerchief wildly to his beloved daughter for the last time, and Mrs. Langton faints on the pier and has to be carried away, which sets the helpless Beatrice sobbing as though her heart would break and she shouts messages till she is hoarse and then sheds many tears which continue on and off till she reaches Calcutta, when the sight of two pleasant nurses dressed like herself, quite cheers her up.

She advances bashfully towards them and says in meek submissive tones "if you please are you military hospital nurses?"

"We are," replies the tallest of the two "our names are Nurse Elsie and Nurse Brandon; of course there is no need to say that I am Nurse Brandon."

"Of course not" say Beatrice.

"And you are Nurse Mildred I presume" asks Nurse Brandon, gently nudging Nurse Elsie to join in the conversation.

"No my name is Beatrice Langton" replies Beatrice.

"I know" says Nurse Brandon, "but you will be known as Nurse Mildred in the wards."

"Oh I see" answers Beatrice glancing at Nurse Elsie whom she thinks she will like better than the former.

"And now" says Nurse Brandon "we will take you to the Residency; Nurse Elsie kindly lead the way."

The nurse does as she is told and the three walk on together. At last they reach a large building of yellow brick with a placcard on the door on which is engraved "Nurses' Residence." Nurse Elsie opens the door and leads the way to a large airy room in which some dozen nurses are having tea.

"This is Nurse Mildred," announces Nurse Brandon in loud tones, and then seating herself at the table she continues "Nurse Mildred you will sit next Nurse Helen tonight."

Beatrice gazes vaguely round the room wondering which is Nurse Helen, when suddenly a pretty nurse with chestnut hair and blue eyes jumps up and announces that she is Nurse Helen and takes Beatrice to her place. The tea is good and there is plenty of it, and together with thick bread and butter and coffee if preferred to tea, Beatrice thinks it is not a bad meal. After tea Nurse Brandon shows Beatrice to her room and tells her she need not begin work till to-morrow.



CHAPTER 10

The time speeds rapidly on and Beatrice is now counted as quite an old nurse. She finds her work in the bungalows very pleasant and the soldiers find her most obliging. She works hard and is never tempted to grumble.

One day just as she is settling down to write after tea, after a hard day's work, Nurse Helen looks in at the door. "Nurse Mildred," she exclaims "you are to go at once to Bungalow number 5; a wounded soldier has just been taken there and is very ill I fear."

Beatrice jumps up and putting on her bonnet walks quickly to the 5th bungalow. It is a little white one on the outskirts of the jungle and close to the battle field, and in it there is a bed, two chairs, a jug, basin and table. Beatrice takes hold of a small cup and measures some ointment into it, and then taking a sponge bathes the man's wounds. He is a very thin man with long slender hands and black hair and eyes, and at a first glance Beatrice sees that he is on the point of death. She does all she can for him and then at his wish reads some Holy Scriptures to him. Then seeing his eyes droop she goes to the other end of the bungalow and waits.

Presently she hears a weak voice say "Beatrice!"

She starts, it is a long time since that name has fallen on her ears. "Beatrice, dont you know me?" says the voice once more.

In a minute Beatrice is at his side clasping his hand in hers. "Oh Lawrence, Lawrence!" she cries.

Then there is silence. "Lawrence can you ever forgive me?" moans Beatrice at last.

"Forgive you my darling? It is the one thing I have lived for" says Lawrence.

"Accept me as your lawful wife," cries Beatrice bending over him.

"Yes darling, yes," says Lawrence faintly. He then tells her in a few words how in despair he had given up everything and gone into the Army and lived only long enough to forgive Beatrice, for that day he had received his death wound in a sharp battle with the enemy.

"And now," he adds, "I shall die happy, and will you remember in after years (for I shall not live to) how here it was our hearts were re-united—once more joined together, here it was I accepted you for my wife, and here it is therefore that Love lies Deepest!"

"Oh my dear!" groans Beatrice heavily, "Lawrence, here is what I was going to have given you at the French Inn," and she presses a pair of gold links into his dying hand.

He smiles back at her and says "keep them darling as a remembrance of me."

Beatrice's only answer is a wild kiss, the last Lawrence will ever receive, the memory of which follows him to Eternity, the next minute he falls back with a groan.

Beatrice stands for a rigid moment and then falls prone beside the bed.

And there is only one in all this wide world who knows for certain if Lawrence Cathcart died a happy death.

THE END



THE HANGMAN'S DAUGHTER



PART I



CHAPTER 1

PROLOGUE

John Winston had entered into manhood with every prospect of a bright and brilliant future.

His parents had died leaving him a nice little legacy and a great deal of land for farming But with all this good fortune, things did not seem to go right with him.

To begin with, he was idle and did not care for farming, so he let land waste away till it was good for nothing, and was forced to sell it. He then encountered a severe loss of money, and by degrees sank lower and lower in the world till he at last found himself a penniless man with barely enough to keep a roof over his head.

His only resourse then was marriage. There were plenty of rich girls about whose parents would be glad to find a suitable husband for them. John Winston was suitable enough, for he was good looking, witty, and had a certain amount of good sense; but his kind heart would not allow him to fall in love with these girls merely on account of their riches, so had to look out for someone he really loved.

During these explorations he met Helen Carline, a young girl, poor, and with no relations in the world. She was wondrously pretty with a profusion of fluffy golden hair and sad blue eyes which spoke all their thoughts.

Of course John Winston fell in love with her at once and proposed accordingly. After a little hesitation she accepted and John Winston's joy was beautiful to witness.

The married couple took a little cottage on the outskirts of the Malvern Hills and engaged one servant Jane Marshland, by name, about whom we shall hear more later on.

In the spring of the following year a little girl was born as a crowning joy to the young husband and wife.

But three months afterwards Mrs. Winston died of fever, which she caught when visiting a gipsy encampment near her home. So at an early age, little Helen, (for that was the child's name) was left without a mother, but she lacked no love or tenderness, for Mr. Winston's only care was for his beloved child, and Jane Marshland now the nurse, did every thing she could for the child's health and comfort.

Mr. Winston had to give up his dear little home, and retire with Jane and his baby to lodgings in London till he heard of some employment.

At last he found something not very satisfactory, but as nothing else offered he decided to take it. It was to perform the office of hangman in a small country town in Hants by the name of Kenalham.

It was not a nice position to be in certainly, and Mr. Winston's nerves were not strong, but the payment was good, and after all only about two people were hung a year at Kenalham.

So with a sinking heart Mr. Winston packed up his goods and departed with his child and servant to the little cottage in Kenalham, already furnished for him. It was a nice little house and Mr. Winston smiled as he entered the drawing room, "after all" he said to Jane, "so few people are hung here that nearly all my time will be devoted to my darling Helen," and he kissed the rosy face of the child.

So, now having explained the position of my story I will skip over a few years and go on again at the time when Helen had grown up into a charming sweet mannered girl.



CHAPTER 2

THE COTTAGE BY THE HILL

The little village of Kenalham was situated in the south of Hants and lay at the bottom of some picturesquely grouped hills.

No river watered the little town, but a broad stream wound through the neighbouring medows giving a rich green shade to the grass on its banks; the high green hills stood out clear and tall against the blue sky, and the ruins of an old castle on the top of one of the heights gave a strange weird appearance. To add to the strangeness of this little scene, at the bottom of the very hill on which the ruins stood was a villa of the modern kind nestling amidst a woody dell of beach trees. This was no other than the residence of Mr. John Winston and his daughter Helen, and it went by the name of "Beach Dale."

It was a charming little house and had the preveleage of possessing a beautiful view both back and front. The front looked out across miles of woodland scenery with no sign of human inhabetance any where safe a single cottage which stood out like a white speck among the greenness which surrounded it.

The back looked out on the lovely blue hills, and far away in the distant loomed the white cliffs of Portsmouth.

Having now given the reader a correct idea of the surroundings of "Beach Dale" I will endevour to describe Helen Winston.

At the time my story opens, our heroine was a charming young lady of nineteen years. She had an abundance of dark brown, almost black hair, curling gracefully over her forehead. Her beautiful brown eyes were headed by well marked eye brows of a lovely black; her complexion was like that of a blush rose and her pretty little nose and mouth added to the charm of her features.

Here character I will leave to be found out and only say that she was passionately fond of her father and devoted all her life solely to him.

Trouble and care had made Mr. Winston look old before his time. He was only 54, yet his hair and beard were completely grey. He had a kind quiet face and blue eyes, he had a rather wide mouth with a nervous twitch at each corner. He fully returned his daughter's love and considering he had taught her entirely himself she was comparatively cleaver girl.



CHAPTER 3

THE SECRET SAFE

During all the years Mr. Winston had lived in Kenalham he had only made one friend a Mr. Cyril Sheen. He was thirty years of age and a bachelor. He too had no friends in the village but Mr. Winston, so he was constantly at "Beach Dale." He was very fond of Helen and had often attempted to make love to her, but she was so completely innocent of his intentions that he felt quite bashful and dare not begin.

One morning, early in May, Mr. Winston and his daughter were just finishing their breakfast when Marshland came in with a letter which she handed to her master.

"A letter?" said Mr. Winston opening his eyes, "who can it be from?"

"Business, father I'm sure" replied Helen with a smile.

"I think not" said Mr. Winston wisely and he proceeded to tear open the envelope and persue its contents.

As he read the letter his face became first thoughtful, then puzzled and then it broke into a smile and lastly Mr. Winston burst into a fit of laughter and took a sip of his untasted tea. He then turned to his daughter for the first time.

"Do you know who this is from, Helen?" he said.

"No father I don't" answered Helen.

"Perhaps it will need a little explanation" replied Mr. Winston. "You have heard me speak of your cousins the Lincarrols haven't you?"

"Oh yes I know" said Helen "they are very rich aren't they?"

"Yes" said Mr. Winston slowly, "very."

"Well father what about them?" said Helen.

"Did I ever mention Gladys to you," enquired Mr. Winston.

"Oh yes" said Helen, "she is the pretty one isn't she?"

"Yes she is quite the "flower of the flock" I belive" replied Mr. Winston; "the others are decidedly plain."

"Well what about Gladys?" enquired Helen.

"Well she is going to be married shortly, and so she proposes coming here next week for a little while and bring her future husband with her. What do you say to that?" asked Mr. Winston.

Helen's pretty face was beaming with novelty and pleasure.

"How lovely father" she gasped; I do hope she will be nice."

"What about a bedroom for her?" said Mr. Winston.

"Oh! there's the little attic in the loft" replied Helen. "I'm sure that is good enough."

"What about the furniture for it? at present it is completely bare and full of cobwebs," said Mr. Winston.

"I forgot about that," said Helen. "Well she can Have the best bedroom."

"Yes" said Mr. Winston "but where is the young man to go?"

"What young man?" said Helen.

"James Palsey" said Mr. Winston referring to the letter in his hand.

Helen's face fell and her eyes filled with tears. "I'm afraid father" she said "we shall have to refuse them, for if the attic has to be used I certainly have no money to furnish it with and I know you have not."

"Don't make too sure my lass" said her father, "wait a little."

He got up as he spoke and taking a small key from his pocket went towards the left hand corner of the mantlepiece.

"Come closer Helen, come closer," he said keeping his eyes on his daughter.

Helen followed her father closely, her eyes with a startled expression in them and her lips quivering with emotion. Mr. Winston lifted a portion of the red velvit curtain which screaned the fire place, and then to Helen said:

"Do you notice anything peculiar about this part of the wall, my child."

"No father, except that there is a little hole just in the middle," replied Helen.

"Ah! you notice that?" said Mr. Winston.

"Yes" said Helen under her breath.

"Now watch me" said Mr. Winston.

Helen needed no second bidding; her eyes seemed riveted to the little hole.

Mr. Winston placed the key into the hole and turned it twice round. Immeadiately a little spring door flew open displaying two well constructed shelves of solid oak.

"This is my secret safe," said Mr. Winston, "known to no one but myself."

"Father!" cried Helen catching hold of his arm.

"Don't get excited, Helen" said her father. "I am going to disclose all the secrets of this safe to you. Do you perceive that the top shelf is faced in by a thin wire gauze with a handle to the left hand side?"

"Yes father" replied Helen.

"Well, nobody can get at the contents of that shelf without my knowing it."

"Why father?" asked Helen.

"Because there are two ways of opening it. Try to open it yourself and then I will explain it to you" said Mr. Winston.

Helen with nervous fingers took hold of the handle and turned it; the gauze door flew open and at the same time a bell began to ring loud and furiously.

Helen drew back in amazement.

Cant Marshland hear it. "Why doesn't she come up" asked Helen.

"She would not trouble to come up for she knows my secret" said Mr. Winston.

"Oh! I see" said Helen.

"Well to proceed" said Mr. Winston. "If Marshland or I heard that bell we should know the safe was being robbed and come up at once."

"Of course" said Helen.

"But there is another way of opening the safe known only to me" said Mr. Winston closing the gauze door; try any way you like to open that door I don't think you will find the right way."

Helen pushed and banged at the door trying every way, but in vain, the door would not move.

"Now I will show the right way," said Mr. Winston, as he spoke he placed his thumb on a brass nail and the gauze door rose, instead of opening, and without any noise displayed the contents of the secret safe.

"How wonderfull" said Helen.

"Would you like to see the contents?" said Mr. Winston.

"Oh! yes father" replied Helen.

Mr. Winston put his hand on the shelf and brought out a leather bag.

"It is full of gold" he said weighing it in his hand, "the savings of a life time."

"Oh father" gasped Helen.

Mr. Winston took out 10 gold peices and the rest he left in the bag "this will pay for the furnishing of the attic" he said.

"So it will" said Helen brightly.

Mr. Winston put the bag back and took out a little ivory box and displayed some magnificent jewilery to his daughter's dazzled eyes, "this was all all left to you by your mother's will," he said.

"Really!" said Helen, "I can't belive it."

The jewils consisted of two broachs, one set entirely in diamonds, the other a horseshow set in rubies; a gold watch, chain and seals; a nexlet of pearls and a gold bracelet fastenned with a ruby heart.

Mr. Winston placed the bracelet on Helen's slender arm; "this" he said "was to be given you in your nineteenth year, the other jewils by your mother's will will be given to you when you come of age.

"How lovely" cried Helen glancing at the circlet of gold on her wrist.

"I will now lock up the rest of the things" said Mr. Winston "and mind Helen, not a word of this is ever to be revealed."

"Never father" said Helen kissing him.

Mr. Winston had barely shut the safe and closed the curtain when the door opened and in came Cyril Sheene.

"Good morning Winston" he cried hastily, "I thought I'd just pop in and see if Helen would come out with me."

"Why Cyril we didn't expect you half so early" said Helen blushing.

"No I'm sure you didn't replied Cyril, "but you will come out wont you?"

"Oh certainly" said Helen and she ran up to get her hat.



CHAPTER 4

THE PROPOSAL

Cyril Sheene, as I have already said was thirty years of age and a bachelor.

He was short and fat and had fair sleek hair parted in the middle, mild blue eyes and a silly sort of expression all over his face.

In ten minutes Helen came down again in a neatly fitting grey jacket and a large straw hat with a few scarlet poppies trailing over the brim. She looked very pretty and Cyril's face shone with pleasure as he regarded her.

"Wont you come out father?" asked Helen, "I suppose we are going on the hills are'nt we Cyril?"

"I thought we might go and sit by the old castle, it is such a glorious day" responded Cyril.

"Do come father" said Helen.

"I don't think I can" said Mr. Winston "I must go to the town this morning"

"Very well" said Helen; and then while Cyril Sheene was looking for his stick, she seized an opportunity to ask her father "shall I tell Cyril about Gladys coming?" "Yes" replied Mr. Winston "but mind not a word about the safe." "Oh no" answered Helen, and then with a lively little jump she ran after Cyril who was already walking down the garden path.

It was a perfect morning, the sun shone brightly, lighting up all the scenery around; the birds were singing in the beach trees close by and the rippling of the little stream was as sweet music to the ear.

"Do you know Helen, I had an engagement in London today, but I put it off to come out with you" said Cyril, as they commenced to climb the hill.

"Oh indeed!" replied Helen "that was very kind of you."

"Oh no" answered Cyril "I would far rather be out here than in London."

"I quite agree with you there" said Helen "it would be horrid to be in smoky London today."

"Yes" said Cyril "especially without you."

"Oh rubbish" laughed Helen and she stooped down to pick a buttercup.

"Indeed it is not rubbish" replied Cyril "when a man loves, he finds it hard to be away from the object of his love."

"Oh does he?" said Helen "but then I am not the object of your love."

"Yes you are Helen," said Cyril, making an attempt to squeaze her hand.

"My dear boy" said Helen, "I do wish you would not talk such nonsense."

"Excuse me" answered Cyril, getting rather red "I am a man."

"Are you really?" said Helen carelessly.

"Now look here Helen, don't be aggrivating" said the lover "you know quite well I love you and why I have come up here."

They had reached the castle now and sat down by the ruined walls.

"Why have I come up here?" asked Cyril again.

"I suppose because it is more breezy than the town" replied Helen.

"Don't be silly Helen" said Cyril pulling up a tuft of grass.

"I am not the least silly" said Helen smiling beneath her handkerchief.

"No of course you're not darling" cried Cyril putting his arm round her waist.

"You mustn't call me "darling" Cyril" replied the girl shyly.

"Yes I must" said Cyril getting a little closer.

"Oh well for once in a way perhaps it does'nt matter" said Helen.

"Well the long and the short of it is Helen" said Cyril "I want to marry you?

"Really" said Helen "you've been long enough getting to the point."

"Have I?" said Cyril shyly "well now that I have come to it, do you love me enough to marry me?"

"Ye-es" replied Helen slowly.

"You seem rather doubtful" said Cyril.

"It's best to be so at first" replied Helen.

"Not in my case surely" answered Cyril, "oh Helen do say yes and make me a happy man."

"Yes" murmered Helen softly.

"Oh you angel" gasped Cyril "do you really mean it?"

"Of course I do" said Helen, "and I do love you Cyril."

"Thank you so much" said Cyril "well now let's hurry home and ask your father I'm in such a terrific hurry."

"Don't be absurd" said Helen "I want to stay in the sunshine."

"Anything to please you dear" said Cyril re-seating himself on the grass.

"Cyril, I think you'll make a model husband" said Helen.

"I'm sure I will" laughed Cyril and with that they got up to walk home.

At the bottom of the hill they spied Mr. Winston. He looked up as he saw them coming and waved his hand furiously.

When they met Mr. Winston he turned directly to Helen, "what do you think Helen, I've furnished the attic all by myself, the only thing Marshland did was to scrub the floor and nail up the curtains."

"How nice" said Helen "but father I've something far more important to tell you."

"Dont say it my child" said the old man "your faces tell me what it is and I give my consent on the spot."

And he plunged his stick into the ground to mark the vehemance of his words.



CHAPTER 5

GLADYS LINCARROL

The week that followed that day was a happy one indeed. Helen and Cyril were more together than ever and then too each day brought it nearer to when Gladys was to come.

At last Monday morning came, and Helen was so excited she could hardly eat her dinner, and Mr. Winston got quite cross when she refused some beautiful cherry pie.

"Do hurry up father" exclaimed Helen at last, "I want to have the room nice and tidy for Gladys and Mr. Palsey."

"My dear I wont starve for any amount of grand ladies" replied Mr. Winston heartily.

Helen smiled languidly and began to arrange the flower stand by the window.

At 4 o'clock precisely a dainty little dog cart drew up at Beach Dale. Helen, peeping from behind the drawing room curtains, saw, first a tall man dressed in a blue suit and black hat and gloves, jump down from the cart and hold out his hand to a young lady who tripped lightly down and tossed a silver coin to the coachman.

The next moment the drawing room door was flung open and Marshland's clear voice was heard announcing, "Miss Lincarrol—Mr. Palsey."

"Oh dear Gladys, I am so delighted to see you" cried Helen in her sweetest tones.

"And I am equally glad to meet you" cried Gladys, "and allow me to introduce my future husband James Palsey."

"How do you do" said Mr. Palsey gravely as he held out his well gloved hand.

At that minute Mr. Winston entered the room dressed in his best things.

"Well Gladys my dear and how are you he cried cheerfully "what a big person you are to be sure, quite half a head taller than Helen I declare."

Gladys laughed affectedly and held out her small hand; she then introduced Mr. Palsey, who, during all this merriment had stood as grave as a judge.

"Do come and have some food pleaded Helen pointing to the dainty little equipage already set out on a bamboo table by the open window.

"Oh thank you" said Gladys and she began to take off her gloves and turn up her veil preparatory to eating.

"Wont you take a seat Mr. Palsey?" asked Helen as she poured out the tea.

"Thanks" replied the gentleman and he sat down on the edge of a whicker chair. Here will be a good opportunity to describe Gladys Lincarrol and her young man.

Mr. Palsey was a tall broad shouldered man about 37, with a solemn face and large hands. His black hair was curly and plentiful and his small green eyes twinkled queerly if he was at all pleased. He was attired in blue, as I said before and in addition to this he wore patent leather boots and a crimson tie.

Gladys was also tall, but very slim. She had golden hair with a reddish tinge and blue eyes. She was very pale and her mouth had a peculiar twitch of conciet. She wore a lovely pink muslin dress and kid gloves to match. A large white hat adorned her pretty head, and she wore a bunch of violets at her neck.

Tea over, Helen proposed a stroll around the village.

"Oh yes, that will be very nice, dont you think so Jim?" asked Gladys.

"Yes I do, thanks" replied Mr. Palsey.

So the trio linked arms and walked slowly down the garden path, and Mr. Winston settled himself comfortably once more and prepared to read the "Star."



CHAPTER 6

A DISSOPOINTING LETTER

He had barely got through the first paragraph when Marshland entered with a letter.

"For you sir" she said placing it on her master's lap.

"Thanks" said Mr. Winston opening the envelope as he spoke.

The letter ran thus:

H. M. Prison, Warwick.

DEAR SIR,

You are requested to come up here by the first train tomorrow morning to hang Mr. Smith, who has lately murdered his wife and three children. It is a serious case, and I am sure you will sympathize.

Belive me dear sir Yours etc C. L. PORTER (head warder of the county prison).

To. J. Winston Esq: Beach Dale, Kenalham Hants.

Mr. Winston sighed as he closed the letter.

"Oh dear oh dear" he cried, "here I have to leave my happy home, just when Gladys and James have arrived, Marshland" he added.

"Yes sir" said the servant coming forward.

"I shall have to leave home early tomorrow" said Mr. Winston "how will you get on with out me?"

"Oh sir, I think we shall get on all right" responded Marshland "I'll keep an eye on the young ladies and Mr. Palsey will cheer them up I know."

"I dont know that" said Mr. Winston "he seems a very dull gentleman."

"Do he really sir" said Marshland "well I'm sure I'm very sad."

"But do you think you can mannage without me? I shall not be away more than three days" asked Mr. Winston.

"Oh yes sir, dont you fret" replied Marshland and now is there anything I can do for you?"

"No nothing thank you" said Mr. Winston "but when the young ladies and Mr. Palsey come in, send Miss Helen to me."

"Yes sir" said Marshland quitting the room.

Barely had the door closed on Marshlands comely figure, when it opened again and Cyril Sheene came bounding in.

"Hullo Winston" he cried "I heard you had some friends down, so I thought I'd just drop in and be introduced."

"They're all out at present" said Mr. Winston with a vain attempt at a smile, "sit down wont you they'll be in soon."

Cyril flung himself down in an arm chair and then glanced at Mr. Winston.

"Why Winston old fellow" he cried, you dont look yourself, is anything up?"

"Oh nothing said Mr. Winston tapping the table nervously."

"Now look here" said Cyril "you cant get round me like that, I know something is wrong, you might as well tell me."

"Very well Cyril I'll tell you" said Mr. Winston and he handed the letter to Cyril, who read it carefully through. As he did so a marked change came over his face, a change from a pleasant faced young man to that of a stern, cold, yet pleased person.

"So you're off tomorrow?" remarked he as he folded the paper.

"Yes I suppose so" said Mr. Winston.

"How you must feel leaving the girls all alone" said Cyril.

"I do" said Mr. Winston, "but I know Marshland will take good care of them and you'll look in wont you?"

"Well I was about to suggest going up with you" said Cyril "I know a few friends in Warwick and you'd be all the better for a companion."

"It is kind of you Cyril" said Mr. Winston "but I'd rather you stopped to take care of Helen."

"Oh Helen will be all right with Marshland and Mr. Palsey in the house" said Cyril "I think you need me more."

"I suppose I do" replied Mr. Winston "but my poor little Helen."

"Well I'll stay if you like, but you wont be away more than three days and what Helen wants with me hanging about I dont know." said Cyril.

"Well I'll take your advice and accept you as a companion, and thanks a thousand times Cyril" replied Mr. Winston.

At that moment the door opened and Helen came running in.

"Well father dear" she said, "I was told you wanted me, so I just came down while Gladys changes her dress."

"Yes dear" said Mr. Winston I am afraid I have some rather bad news for you."

"Oh dear father what is it?" exclaimed Helen kneeling down by the chair.

"I must go to Warwick early to-morrow dear on a hanging matter" replied Mr. Winston "I shall be back in three days."

"Oh father" cried Helen "just when Gladys and Mr. Palsey have come down Oh I am sorry" and her pretty eyes filled with tears.

"Yes dear I am sorry too" remarked Mr. Winston slowly, "but you'll be all right wont you?"

"Oh yes father" said Helen "I was not thinking of myself, but it always knocks you up so, and just when we're all so happy."

"Well Cyril has offered to go with me and keep me company" said Mr. Winston "you wont miss him much will you?"

"Oh Cyril I am glad" exclaimed Helen. "I feel far easier now, you'll take such care of father I know."

"Yes Helen I will" said Cyril folding Helen in his arms and kissing her forehead.

"Thank you Cyril" said Helen returning her lover's kiss.

Soon after Gladys and Mr. Palsey came in, and a merry farewell evening was spent, Cyril at the head of the fun.

Next morning Helen was up early toasting some bread for her father's breakfast; she made the table and room as cosy as she could and then waited her fathers coming down.

He came at last looking worn and pale but he enjoyed his meal and cheered up a little as he ate it.

"Now dear, is your portmanteau ready?" enquired Helen trying hard to keep back her tears.

"Yes dear quite" returned the father "and Cyril will meet me at the station you know."

"Yes he told me so" replied Helen.

"Well goodbye darling, keep a good heart and I'll be back on Thursday at the latest" said Mr. Winston.

"Goodbye dear father" rejoined the girl "I'll try and be cheerful but it is hard you know."

"I know it dear" said Mr. Winston and then turning to Marshland he added "goodbye Marshland, take good care of the young ladies and keep an eye on Mr. Palsey."

"I will sir" returned Marshland and then she and Helen stood at the door the latter waving her handkerchief to the dear father who was never more to enter his happy home in Kenalham.



CHAPTER 7

THE ALARM

Helen Winston found it very hard to be merry without her father, but she did her best and Gladys took her little attentions very kindly.

"What do you propose doing now? she asked when breakfast was cleared away.

"I must attend to the housekeeping first and then I thought a walk on the hills would be nice" answered Helen.

"Very good" said Gladys "we can go and visit the old castle you talk so much about."

"Yes" said Helen, and she tripped down stairs, more for the pleasure of a comforting talk with Marshland than to order the dinner.

In an hour's time they were all ready and started on their breezy walk.

"How lovely it is up here," remarked Gladys.

"Yes is'nt it beautiful" replied Helen thinking of the last time she was up there."

The little promenade quite cheered Helen up, and she and Gladys did some shopping in the afternoon while Mr. Falsey stayed at home to smoke his pipe.

The next day passed pretty much the same as the first and by Thursday morning Helen was all smiles again, knowing that by tea-time her dear father would be home again.

In the afternoon she went out and bought a tea cake for tea. She had tea laid out on the best bamboo table with the blue and gold tea cups and she also put fresh flowers in all the vases and all together the little drawing room had a truly home-like aspect.

At 4 o'clock a ring was heard at the front door.

"How funny of father to ring" cried Helen "I thought he would be sure to come in and supprise me."

"Perhaps he thought it would supprise you more if he rung," replied Gladys.

"Ah perhaps so" responded Helen giving a last touch to the pink rose-buds which drooped prettily over the china vases.

At that moment Marshland entered the room with a frightened look on her face.

Coming up she handed a telegram to Helen "its given me such a turn miss" she explained "them telegrams always seem to carry bad news."

Helens face grew pale and she hastily opened the envelope.

The moment her eyes rested on the words, she uttered a cry of anguish and flung the telegram away from her. "Oh I know its father" she cried.

"Hush hush miss" said Marshland soothingly and picking up the telegram she too read the fatel words. The telegram ran as follows:

Come at once, a terrible thing has happened. SHEENE.

Marshland's honest face grew ashy as she read the words, but she tried to control her feelings for Helens sake.

"Well miss it is a terrible thing" she said "but we can but hope for the best, what train will you go by miss."

"Oh I dont know, dont ask me," cried poor Helen.

"Dont cry so Helen dear" said Gladys "after all it may not be as bad as Mr. Sheene thinks."

"Wont you allow me to come to Warwick with you Miss Winston?" asked Mr. Palsey kindly.

"You're very kind" sobbed Helen, "but Gladys wont like it."

"Dont think of me for one instant" said Gladys, patting Helen's head "of course you'll go with her James and Marshland and I will keep house till you come back."

"I had better go tonight" said Helen getting up from the sofa and glancing at the pretty little tea table, which five minutes ago she had arranged with such love and care.

"Yes miss, the telegram says at once" replied Marshland, "I wonder when the next train is."

"I can tell you" cried Mr. Palsey producing a time table from his pocket and running his finger down the column.

"Poor Helen" said Gladys kissing her fondly.

"Seven fifteen is the next" said Mr. Palsey, "that'll give you nice time to get ready," and it gets to Warwick at 11-30.

"That will do" replied Helen "will you put my things together for me, I feel so faint."

"Yes dearie" replied Marshland. Now Helen dear you rest on the sofa and I'll bring you some tea" said Gladys. Helen flung herself down, quite worn out.

Gladys gave her a cup of strong tea and bathed her hot head with eau de cologne.

"I'll go and order the dog-cart, to drive us to the station" said Mr. Palsey.

"Yes be quick James, you must not be late" replied Gladys.

For in an hour's time all was ready. Helen, with a white shawl over her face was standing at the door while Mr. Palsey put the bags into the dog cart.

"Goodbye Helen dear" cried Gladys "keep up a good heart and James will take every care of you."

"Goodbye Gladys" said Helen "and thanks so much for sparing him to me."

"Goodbye Miss Helen my love" cried poor old Marshland wiping her eyes on her apron, "write as soon as you can and let me know how the master is."

"Yes of course I will" cried Helen, jumping into the dog cart, "goodbye all, goodbye and in an other minute the dog cart was out of sight, and Marshland returned to her work, and Gladys to the deserted drawing room.



CHAPTER 8

BAD NEWS

The journey on which Helen and Mr. Palsey had set out was a very long one indeed and May though it was the night was very chilly.

Helen shivered as she got into the train and drew her shawl round her. Mr. Palsey had taken first class tickets, and so soothing was the motion of the train and so comfortable the seat in which she found herself that Helen soon dropped asleep.

"Now I can think over things a bit," said Mr. Palsey taking some papers from a black bag by his side, "jolly nice of Gladys to suggest me coming up here, though she didn't know why I wanted to come poor girl; odd that I didn't hear from Sheene today, I quite expected a line or a telegram to say how matters stand. It may here be mentioned that Mr. Palsey and Cyril Sheene were by no means new acquaintances and had met many times in London and even once or twice before in Kenalham.

"Odd how Cyril found out about that secret shelf mused Mr. Palsey "a whole bag of gold he said, how Winston saved it I dont know, ah he was a rich man with all his poor living and scanty furniture. I think there were some jewils in the safe too but of course it is the money, the gold I'm putting myself to this for and with a cold laugh, he drew out some closely written papers and read them eagerly, putting pencil marks by certain paragraphs in the document.

The train flew on nearing Warwick rapidly.

At last Helen awoke with a start and found Mr. Palsey taking forty winks opposite her.

She rubbed her eyes and looked out of the window, "how dark it is" she thought and its raining too, how horrible and she nestled under her fluffy shawl. Presently the train stopped with a jerk and Mr. Palsey woke up.

"This is Warwick" he said picking up his bag "train's late and it is twenty to twelve.

"How late" quoth Helen and with a sigh she followed Mr. Palsey on to the crowded platform.

It was a dreary sight which met the weary girl's eyes. The rain was pouring heavily and the whole station looked wet and miserable. The gas lights flickered in the wind making hideous shadows on the walls. The porters, cold and cross looking, poor things, were bustling about, crying the name of the station at the tops of their voices, and a thin shaggy dog, evidently lost, was howling pitiably, tending by no means to cheer poor Helen's quaking heart.

"I thought Cyril would be sure to meet you" said Mr. Palsey suddenly "you go into the waiting room and warm yourself and I'll walk up the road a bit and see if I see him, for I dont know what house to go to do you?"

"No" said Helen, "oh Mr. Palsey I'm so unhappy and with a faint cry she turned away and buried her face in her shawl.

"Poor thing" thought Mr. Palsey "she cant guess the worst yet," out loud he added "hush Miss Winston, you are over fatigued, that is all, would you like a cup of coffee? the refreshment room is not yet closed."

"I could'nt drink or eat" replied Helen sadly "I'll go and sit by the fire while you look for Cyril.

"Very well" said Mr. Palsey, and he turned round and went off in an opposite direction.

Helen entered the waiting room and sat by the fire her tired eyes covered with her hands. Presently she raised her white face and glanced at the clock. Two old ladies sitting near, noticed her pale frightened face.

"Have you come a long journey" asked one "you look very tired."

"I am very tired, and miserable too" broke forth Helen in the fullness of her heart "oh why am I dragged up here in this cruel fashion, oh what has happened to father?" she burst into heart broken sobbing.

The old ladies looked very much alarmed and after bidding Helen a kind good night, gathered up their wraps and departed.

The time sped on and still nether Cyril nor Mr. Palsey arrived.

Helen grew terrified and was on the point of going out on to the platform when the door opened and the two men appeared.

Mr. Palsey looked much the same, Cyril was clad in a heavy ulster and his face was white and scared.

Cyril was speaking as the two entered and Helen caught the last words, "just as we could have wished" he was saying. "Oh Cyril Cyril" cried Helen and she flung herself into his arms.

"My darling" gasped Cyril and a queer gurgle sounded in his throat. "What is it Cyril, what has happened?" cried Helen, clutching hold of his coat.

"Hush darling" said Cyril, "come outside.

Helen was quite overcome by now and she allowed herself to be led out by Cyril and Mr. Palsey.

"Shall you tell her tonight" whispered Mr. Palsey.

"It is better to get it over" replied Cyril, "Helen dear, be prepared for bad news."

"Yes yes anything" gasped Helen nervously "father is ill I know very ill, oh Cyril tell me quickly."

"Worse than that" said Cyril and he clasped her tightly to him.

"Not dying moaned Helen, "oh Cyril not dying.

Cyril said nothing, but Mr. Palsey whispered "out with it Sheene, she must know soon."

"He is dead" cried Helen wildly, "say the words Cyril say them."

Cyril bowed his head "yes" he murmured "dead—murd——

"Hush" whispered Mr. Palsey striking him on the arm, "you idiot, keep quiet."

With a shriek, Helen tore herself from Cyril's grasp and ran like the wind, she herself knew not wither; at the station gate her strength failed her, she turned, she tottered, she tried to scream and fell insensible at the feet of the villians.



CHAPTER 9

HELEN'S ACCTIDENT

Cyril and Mr. Palsey lost no time in conveying Helen to a cab which was waiting outside. They placed her on one of the seats and bade the cabman drive directly to number 2 Medina Road, where Cyril was lodging.

"How will you manage about the money Cyril?" presently asked Mr. Palsey.

"Dont speak to me of money?" cried Cyril bitterly, "oh Helen Helen" and he bent over his unconcious sweetheart.

"Pon me word Cyril" cried Mr. Palsey "you're a born idiot, the girl will soon recover, you'll marry her and we'll go halfs with the money, its simply ridiculous the way you mople and mumble over her, let her alone I say and tell me how the murd—the bussiness went off."

"I've told you twice it was very successful" replied Cyril impatiantly.

"You're trying to hide something I can see" cried Mr. Palsey passionately, "you'd best tell me, or not a farthing of the money shall be yours."

"I dont see that" said Cyril cooly, "you dont even know where the safe is." Mr. Palsey bit his lips in suppressed anger. Cyril's words were stiningly true and made him boil with passion. "Here we are" said Cyril, as the cab stopped at a dimly lighted street corner.

"Hi cabman, get down and open the door" screamed Mr. Palsey.

The man shuffled down from the box and opened the door.

"Any luggage" he asked roughly.

"No" replied Mr. Palsey "there is a young lady fainted and we are going to carry her in to this house."

"Right" responded the man and he stood aside while Cyril and Mr. Palsey came gingerly out carrying Helen between them.

As they were ascending the steps a rough looking man in a torn red shirt and battered hat came up and addressed himself to Cyril.

"Hi sir" he cried out "what about that L10 you promised; I'm a poor starving man and I cant wait much longer.

"Bother" muttered Cyril "here man will a shilling suffice for this evening, I'll pay the rest tomorrow."

"All right" grumbled the man, "unless you pay up tomorrow it'll be the last job I do for you," and with an oath the man departed.

Cyril lead the way into a dimly lighted parlour and with Mr. Palseys help Helen was soon arranged on the sofa.

Some supper consisting of cold mutton, vegitables and a jug of ale was laid out on a round table in the centre of the room, and small parrifin lamp burnt on the mantleshelf. Going over to this last object Cyril screwed it up, so that its glare fell, full on Helen's face.

"Why she's hurt herself terribly" cried Cyril in alarm, pointing to a wound in her forehead from which blood had been streaming down her face.

"Is your landlady up?" enquired Mr. Palsey seriously.

"I should rather doubt it, why?" asked Cyril.

"Because Miss Winston should be taken to her bedroom at once, I'm afraid it is a bad cut" replied Mr. Palsey.

"I'll ring" responded Cyril and he acted accordingly.

In ten minutes or so an oldish woman entered holding a candle and her garments had evidently been flung on in a hurry.

"What now sir?" she asked.

"Sorry for disturbing you Mrs. Pollard but this young lady of mine has had a terrible fall and must be taken to her bedroom at once, we thought it was only a faint said Cyril.

"Lardy dardy" exclaimed Mrs. Pollard "poor young lady, I'll see to her at once sir."

She left the room and soon returned with an other servant and the two carried Helen to her bedroom where they bathed her face with cold water and put her to bed as carefully as possible.

"You'd best go for the doctor Mary" said Mrs. Pollard "say nothing to the young gentleman and be as quick as you can.

Meanwhile Cyril and Mr. Palsey sat down to their supper.

"Poor Helen" cried Cyril at last.

"Oh stop that tune do" cried Mr. Palsey "tell us what happened."

"It was all done as pre-arranged. I waited till the man was hanged and the yard emptied of people and while Mr. Winston was putting away the scaffold the blow was struck" said Cyril.

"By you?"

"No"

"Who then?"

"Oh that lout you saw at the door just now, he decided to do the job for L10, I had hard work to make him do it just at first" replied Cyril.

"Indeed" said Mr. Palsey "what was his name?"

"Jack Jenkins" replied Cyril a terrific beggar and drunkard too I belive."

"Oh" laughed Mr. Palsey "and what plan did you adopt about the gun?"

"I did'nt do that" responded Cyril "when Jenkins had done his part of the bussiness, I got a knife, steeped it in red ink and laid it by Mr. Winston's side, as he was prostrated on the ground."

"And that will lead the police to belive it was suicide you think?" asked Mr. Palsey.

"I think so" replied Cyril with a groan "at last that seemed to be the general opinion when the poor fellow was taken to the mortuary."

"Why do you say "poor fellow?" asked Mr. Palsey.

"Because I do think he is a poor fellow and I'm sorry I ever did the thing" cried Cyril and he brought his fist down on the table with such force that the jug of beer toppled over and fell on the floor.

At that moment the door opened and Mrs. Pollard poked her head in "if you please sir" she said "we've thought fit to send for Dr. Poppet, and he's waiting in the hall."

"Very well" said Cyril with dignity "show him upstairs and when he has seen Miss Winston let him come and have a word with me."

"Miss Winston" cried Mrs. Pollard "why sir is she any relation to the poor hangman as was killed after the affair."

"Yes woman" cried Cyril hotly "she is his daughter, now go for pity's sake"

Mrs. Pollard hastily withdrew and commanded Dr. Poppet to follow her.

"Its a serious case sir" she said cheerily opening Helen's door "step this way please."

Dr. Poppet stepped that way and went over to Helens bed, where Mary the under servant was putting ointment on the wound.

"Hem" grunted the doctor seriously "not as bad as I feared, but very dangerous for all that, she must be kept very quiet Mrs. Pollard and must only take liquid food, she will probably awake by 5 or 6 o'clock and you may give her a little milk, "I'll call again tomorrow on my rounds, keep her head cool or fever of some kind may set in and effect the brain."

"Your instructions shall be carried out to the letter" said Mrs. Pollard and with that she led him down to talk with Cyril Sheene.



CHAPTER 10

IN THE COURT OF JUSTICE

The next morning Helen was sadly feverish, though quite sensible.

From the time she woke up 11-30 a.m. she never opened her lips.

She was very feverish and her brain very much upset.

Mr. Palsey decided not to tell Helen the fearful news till she was better and indeed it was a wise thing to do. Helen smiled and looked pleased when Cyril went to see her, but turned away in disgust when Mr. Palsey went near her.

"Helen dear" said Cyril "I am going out now, is there anything you would like me to buy for you?"

"No nothing" replied Helen "let me be alone, I want no one near me."

Cyril sighed, took up his hat and departed.

Entering the sitting room he found Mr. Palsey busy writing.

"James" said Cyril "I must go out now, will you come."

"No I cant" replied Mr. Palsey "I am very busy."

Cyril again gave a sigh of relief, and opening the front door went out.

The storm of the night before had quite subsided and the sun was shining brightly.

To tell the truth, Cyril was very glad to hear that Mr. Palsey could not go out, for he himself was going to the court of Justice to appear as witness concerning the death of Mr. Winston, which some of the detectives suspected to be murder and some suicide.

The court was densely crowded and in consequence very hot and stuffy.

Cyril forced his way through the crowd and seated himself in the witness box, where sat two other men, Mr. Porter the head warder of the prison and Dr. Slyn, both of whom had held conversation with Mr. Winston, an hour or so before his death.

"Not many witnesses for so serious a case" cried the judge in loud tones as he eyed the three desolate looking men.

Cyril was the first witness as he knew more of the deceased than either of the other two. He had to relate all he knew of Mr. Winston's past life and in conclusion the judge asked him if he thought Mr. Winston looked like commiting suicide when he went to hang Mr. Smith.

Cyril replied that Mr. Winston looked rather morbid on the day of the execution and otherwise no other change was visible.

The judge coughed, "summon the detectives" he cried.

The detectives (three in number) advanced.

"Now Mr. Slag" said the judge, addressing the leader of the three men, "what is your opinion of this terrible case, murder or suicide?"

Cyril waited open mouthed for the reply, his whole life depended on Mr. Slag's reply.

Mr. Slag evidently did not like giving his opinion in public and he hesitated before speaking.

"I say it was murder" cried one of the other detectives.

Cyril could have screamed with vexation.

"Are you aware Mr. Tix that your opinion was not asked" enquired the judge dryly "Mr. Slag if you please" he added authoritivly.

"I say suicide most decidedly replied Mr. Slag "I am a trained detective my lord and am not likely to make a mistake, Mr. Rennet is also of my opinion."

"Very well" said the judge writing in his note book.

"I am convinced it is suicide and so is the jury and you may go Mr. Slag, the case is with drawn where are Mr. Winston's relations who will bury the deceased?"

A stir in the witness box and Cyril came forward "I will undertake to pay for the burial" he said.

"You?" cried the astonished judge "who are you pray?"

"My name is Cyril Sheene" replied Cyril getting very red "and I am the greatest friend poor Mr. Winston had, besides his daughter who I know is penniless.

"Very well" said the judge "you are a good benevolent man.

Little did the simple minded judge know, that the innocent looking person he addressed in such kind tones was the real murderer of Mr. Winston.



CHAPTER 12

HELEN'S RESOLVE

Cyril Sheene returned home to his lodgings quite satisfied with the conclusion the case had come to. Entering the sitting room, he found Mr. Palsey still busy writing, though the dinner was ready and fast getting cold.

"Still busy?" cried Cyril, pulling off his gloves and sitting down to a tempting looking dinner of juicy well cooked mutton chops, arranged against a mountain of frothy mashed potatoes.

"Yes I'm terrificly busy" responded Mr. Palsey tearing up a large sheet of foolscap as he spoke.

"Well lets have dinner now" responded Cyril sitting down as he spoke.

"Oh all right" replied Mr. Palsey, who was not the least hungry, "where have you been all the morning?"

"In court" responded Cyril absently gazing at the mutton chops.

"In court man!" cried Mr. Palsey "what do you mean?"

"I mean what I say" replied Cyril. "I was in court, acting witness in Mr. Winston's case."

"Really?" gasped Mr. Palsey "what is the result?"

"The case is withdrawn" replied Cyril feverishly, "they are convinced it is suicide."

"Thank goodness" ejaculated Mr. Palsey "then we are well out of the mess."

"Yes" answered Cyril and then vouchsafing no more the two men sat down to their dinner.

Half way through ***y were interupted by Mrs. Pollard, who came in in a great fluster.

"Please sir" she said in a hurry "Miss Winston seems so queer, she has got up and dressed herself and wishes to see you at once."

"My stars" screamed Cyril, forgetting in his excitement what a gentleman he was and with that he rushed upstairs to Helen's bedroom.

He found Helen standing by the bed, her hands beating wildly against her heart and a hectic spot burning on her cheek.

She was completely dressed even to her grey travelling cloak which hung limply on her shoulders.

"Cyril," she cried wildly, "I am going home, I can bare this imprisonment no longer."

"Helen, my darling cried Cyril astounded by her words.

"Yes it is true" cried Helen again. "I shall go home now now—this instant why am I kept in ignorance of my father's death? I know who murdered him in spite of secrecy," she screamed," it was Mr. Palsey, that false villain below," "Helen cried Cyril," "how could it be Mr. Palsey, why I should know it if it was he, dont be absurd dear, get into bed again do you know you are very ill, and to go out would be madness."

"I dont care" screamed Helen, her eyes dilating and her cheeks burning.

"I shall go home, I tell you it was Mr. Palsey who murdered my father if you dont know it Cyril, I do so there,"

"Helen" said Cyril firmly "be calm and I will tell you about your poor father's death."

"Tell me" cried Helen and she sank exhausted into a chair.

"I fear" began Cyril "I greatly fear that your poor dear father commited—had reasons for depriving himself of life."

"What!" cried Helen, starting to her feet, "you Cyril Sheene dare to insult me to my face, will you too turn, false, oh how dare you say my father commited suicide."

"I dare Helen because I know it" replied Cyril.

"You dont know it" screached Helen, "oh Cyril," and the poor un nerved girl sank sobbing on the bed.

"Hush Helen," cried Cyril stroking her ruffled hair, "we wont talk about it any more, but indeed you can not go home today, it is impossible."

"I must I must" moaned Helen "oh Cyril let me go, I want to see Marshland."

"Helen, you cant go" replied Cyril "why do you want Marshland?"

"Because she is my only true friend" cried Helen.

"Helen am I not a true friend" asked Cyril reproachfully.

"Yes Cyril you are" said Helen, "but do let me go."

Cyril remembering the doctors directions that Helen was to have everything she wanted, replied "very well Helen, you may go to-morrow, and now get back to bed and rest."

"No, no" said Helen "I must go tonight."

"But your father is to be burried today," replied Cyril.

"Never mind" cried Helen shaking her aching head, "It would break my heart to attend the funeral, I must go tonight."

"Very well" said Cyril "I will go with you, by the 8-40 train, but now do rest darling."

"Thank you, thank you Cyril" replied Helen gratefully and closing her eyes she fell into a heavy sleap."



CHAPTER 13

THE DISGUISE

Cyril was greatly troubled about Helen's strange conduct; he knew it was not good for her to travel in her present condition, and then again it would do her just as much harm not to go as she desired it so much.

He went down to the sitting room and related all the story to Mr. Palsey and waited eagerly for a reply.

"Why man alive!" shrieked Mr. Palsey "this is greatest piece of luck we could possibly hope for."

"Luck?" cried Cyril "what do you mean?"

"Why dont you see?" said Mr. Palsey "it is impossible for Helen to travel alone, and therefore you and I must accompany her, and of course it will be the very chance of chances to rob the safe."

"But you cant go with her" replied Cyril "though of course I must."

"Why cant I go if you please?"

"For the simple reason that Helen suspects you to be guilty of murdering her father," replied Cyril, trying to appear unconcerned.

"What?" shrieked Mr. Palsey thumping his knees vigerously, 'dont be an idiot, how can she suspect me?"

"Well she does" answered Cyril "but you may be quite easy, for she will not speak of it."

She'd better not" cried Mr. Palsey biting his moustache.

"But you see James, it is quite impossible for you to travel with us, so you had better wait and come by a later train, there is one at 9-12 I know" replied Cyril.

"No that wont do," said Mr. Palsey "it would upset my plans, besides making it too late to rob the safe with ease."

"What will you do then?" asked Cyril. "I will disguise myself" returned Mr. Palsey "I have a heavy green ulster upstairs, which I know Miss Winston has not seen and grey slouch hat; and a false beard which I used when acting a play some time ago and if I put a little walnut juice upon my countenance I think I shall be sufficiently at least to deceive Miss Winston."

"Capital" exclaimed Cyril, "put on the things now and see how you look."

Mr. Palsey rummaged in his portmanteau and produced the required articles. The beard was a trifle crumpled, but Cyril who was neat handed quickly combed it out and made it look as good as new.

Mr. Palsey then put on the ulster and big felt hat and attached the beard to his chin by a bit of elastic. Cyril then applied to his face, and in a minute he was disguised into a fearce foreign looking man.

"Its a splended get up" said Cyril, eyeing the villain admiringly.

"I wont take it off" said Mr. Palsey opening his purse and taking out ten shillings "I will go straight to the station and wait there, give this money to Mrs. Pollard for me, it what I owe her for the lodgings you know.

"Very well" cried Cyril "but you'll have a long wait at the station."

"I know" said Mr. Palsey "but I can amuse myself with a few comic papers and a pipe."

"So with a hearty shake of the hands the two villains sealed the compact.



CHAPTER 14

HOME AGAIN

Cyril was very busy all that afternoon; he barely had time to attend Mr. Winston's funeral, which he did however for politeness sake.

It was not a grand funeral by any means and I think it would have broken Helen's heart to see the plain unvarnished coffin which her poor father's remains were deposited in.

When Cyril returned from the ceremony, he settled his accounts with Mrs. Pollard and then proceeded to pack his portmanteau, which piece of business did not take him very long.

He was about to depart from his room, when something lying upon the floor attracted his attention.

It was a water coloured painting of Mr. Winston.

How Cyril's heart smote him, as he gazed at those calm, stern features and mild blue eyes, with so much trust in their orbs.

He hastily shuffled the painting into his pocket, and with something between a groan and a sarcastic laugh, made a rapid retreat down the stair case.

Helen was waiting in the hall.

She looked a very different girl from the bright rosy faced Helen of a week ago.

Her cheeks were white and hollow save for one hectic spot and her great hazel eyes seemed too dark for her face. Her dark hair was limp and uncurled, and her lips were as ashy as her face. She looked a sad little picture, indeed, as she stood there in the hall, with her grey cloak loosly buttoned round her, and her new black crape hat contrasting queerly with her ghost-like countenance.

Cyril's heart of stone was quite touched as he saw her looking so vastly changed.

"Come Helen" he said carresingly as he patted her hair behind, "it feels like old times to be walking with you again."

"Perhaps it does to you" quoth Helen bitterly "but to me it is unbearable."

Cyril said nothing, but gently helped her down the steps. In an hours time they were at the station.

Helen sat on a seat to rest till the train came up, and Cyril went over to the bookstall, keeping close to a remarkably tall foreign looking gentleman who was laughing over Tit Bits.

"Come away," whispered Helen to Cyril "that man reminds me of the two faced villain Mr. Palsey."

"Helen" muttered Cyril between his teeth "be quiet do; please to remember that with all his villainy he is a perfect gentleman."

"Ah" said Helen "you too admit that he is a villain."

Cyril saw he had made a mistake and the hot blood rushed to his face.

"Dear me" he said cooly "I am always blurting out things I dont mean."

Helen was beginning to see through him.

"Cyril" she said faintly "I hope you are not a villain too."

"Why of course I'm not" replied Cyril "come, here is the train."

Helen followed Cyril to a first class carriage, noticed that the foreign looking man, otherwise Mr. Palsey, jumped into a second class department and closed the door with a bang.

"This is a fast train" said Cyril as he got on to the seat.

"Indeed?" replied Helen, and with a deep drawn sigh she placed her bundle on the rack.

"Helen wont you eat your supper," asked Cyril "it is nearly nine o'clock, you must be hungry.

"Very well" replied Helen and she opened her bag.

"What have you got?" asked Cyril eargerly.

"Only a small pot of calf's foot jelly" answered Helen.

"Oh" said Cyril in a dissopointed tone, "why you ought to have had fruit and cold fowl."

"Dont speak to me of cold fowls" cried Helen in disgust and having finished her jelly she sank into repose.

The train was an express and reached Kenalham a little before 10-30.

Helen burst into tears as she stepped on to the platform. "Oh how sad, how sad" she moaned.

The dog cart was waiting for them and Cyril jumped quickly in, helping Helen as he did so.

For ten minutes or more, the cart stopped, and Helen found herself once more on the threshold of her home.



CHAPTER 15

THE ROBBERY

The door was opened by Marshland who having heard the fearful news was attired in deep mourning.

"My darling Miss Helen!" cried the old servant.

"Oh Marshland" cried Helen "I feel so terribly ill."

"Come to bed at once miss and you shall have some hot wine" said Marshland "step into the drawing room sir" she added seeing Cyril waiting in the passage.

"Goodnight Helen dear" cried Cyril, then turning to the servant he added "thank you I will rest for one moment, but I must go then, as I have a friend waiting for me in the town."

"Very well sir" said Marshland "you can let yourself out cant you?"

"Oh yes" cried Cyril and he betook himself to the drawing room.

As I have already mentioned, Helen was feeling weak and ill and her head ached as though it would split. Marshland put her to bed very carefully and gave her some hot wine to drink.

Once in between the beautiful cool sheets with the breeze blowing in at the open window stirring the dainty white muslin curtains, Helen dropped into a dull heavy sleep, but she was so restless that Marshland dared not leave her.

As the clock on the stairs struck 12-30 Helen seemed to grow quieter, so Marshland drew down the blind, snuffed the candle and went downstairs.

She bolted the hall door and peeped into the drawing room.

"I heard Mr. Sheene go some hours ago" she muttered "and all the windows are bolted, so off I go to bed to rest my weary limbs."

So the old woman went to her room, knocking at Gladys's door as she went, to assure that she was going to bed, for Gladys who was highly nervous had insisted on this.

Helen slept heavily till about 2 o'clock in the morning, when she was awakened by some strange sounds below.

She sat up in bed and listened, the sounds continued and feeling frightened she called Marshland.

But the old servant was asleep and for a little while the noises ceased. Helen thinking it was her fancy turned in her bed and fell into a doze. In less than 2 minutes she was awakened by the furious ringing of a bell.

For a moment her heart stood still and her very blood ran cold. Then in one desperate moment she recollected the sound of the bell.

Springing from her bed she flew to the door crying as she did so "the safe, the safe!!"

Wildly she flew down the passage her brain dazed her heart beating loudly.

Her eyes were too dilated to see, and in flying along she struck her head against a tall old clock and would have fallen headlong downstairs, to certain death, but a pair of arms were hastily flung around her and in another moment two unconscios figures were lying motionless in the still dark passage with only the pale moonlight lighting up their rigid faces.



CHAPTER 16

"SETTLED"

Marshland had not been awakened by the bell and so when she got up next morning at 6 o'clock, she was entirely innocent of the nights events. Putting on her apron she hastily went downstairs. Half way down the passage she caught sight of something white.

"Tut tut" she exclaimed "I wonder if those are my clean aprons or caps, they must have fallen from the beams." But here her wonderings were overun by the fact that the white things were no other than the prostrate bodies of Helen and Gladys.

Marshland uttered a stifled cry, but recovering her presence of mind she instantly raised Helen in her arms. Gladys had by this time quite recovered and was kneeling by her cousin on the floor.

"Raise yourself Miss Gladys" said Marshland "and help me take Miss Helen to her room."

Gladys rose directly and Helen was soon upon her bed once more.

She soon opened her eyes and fixed them on her cousin, "go away" she said calmly "I want to speak to Marshland."

Gladys left the room and Helen's calm manner changed to one of absolute fury.

Darting to her feet, she seized Marshland's shoulder, her white lips parted in feverish anxiety.

"The safe" she cried quick Marshland it has been robbed—I heard the bell—go and see quick, oh Marshland hurry—hurry."

Marshland had her doubts as to the robbery, but to quiet Helen she went downstairs to ascertain.

Entering the drawing room to her great alarm she found the window wide open, and she knew she had shut and bolted it the night before.

Advancing in some consternation she saw the bolt had not been tampered with and her eyes wandered to the safe. Dragging back the curtain she perceived to her great horror that the gauze door was wide open and the black leather bag which contained all the money, gone.

"Oh Heavens" ejaculated the old woman "all the money gone, yes every brass farthing of it, my poor Miss Helen you'll have to go begging now and in sober earnest too."

It may here be mentioned that Mr. Winston had left a will leaving all his money to Helen, and the gold which that bag contained was all he had left, so that gone, Helen would have to set about to earn her own living. Mr. Winston had before his death written on a slip of paper "all this gold is bequeathed to my daughter Helen on the day when I shall be called upon to die." This he had sealed with his private seal and put at the bottom of the bag so that the thief (whoever he might be) had carried that signature with him.

Marshland lost no time in seeing what else had been robbed and found to her relief that the ivory box containing the valuable old jewils had not been touched.

Taking it in her trembling hand, she carried it to Helen's room. "Here Miss" she said, see the jewils have not been touched but—but—her white lips refused to say any thing else, but Helen took up the strain, "the money is gone, yes I knew it Marshland and I am left alone a beggar in this cruel, cruel world. All this she uttered in so calm a tone as to quite supprise Marshland.

"Dont say alone miss" cried the faithful servant, for I will be with you through thick and thin.

At that moment the door opened and Gladys announced that Mr. Sheene was waiting in the parlour, together with Mr. Palsey. Helen dressed herself quickly and leaning on Gladys's arm for support she entered the much disturbed drawing room.

Cyril was standing by the window, his hands in his trouser pockets looking desperatly ill.

Mr. Palsey looked as stern and hard as ever, and with his cigarette between his lips he appeared to be taking a general survey of the room.

"Good morning Miss Winston" he cried totally ignoring his future wife, "if you have any brains they ought to tell you what I am here about. Before Helen had time to reply Gladys stepped forward and laying her hand on Mr. Palsey's arm looked in his face steadily and said. "James, I dont know what you intend saying but I am sure it is cruel and cutting and I beg and pray of you to keep quiet whatever it is. Helen is, as you know in great trouble about her dear father, and added to that, a robbery has been commited in the night, which has deprived her of all the money which had been left her and so she has now to earn her own living——"

"Hold" cried Cyril suddenly turning round, "I have already heard of this terrible robbery and though I have to grovell in the very ground, Helen shall never have to earn her own living, in the presence of everyone here I repeat my words. I intend as soon as possible to take Helen to London and marry her on the first opportunity which presents itself; I have" he added, "though no one may know it, a private bussiness in Holburn, which consists of a small office in which I employ two clerks, my living appartments are at the back of this office or (home affair) as I generally call it, and mark my words all of you here Helen would lead a very happy life, and if my bussiness should prosper I will go and live in Paris or Rome if Helen should prefer it."

"Thank you Cyril" said Helen, "I will spend one more week here to collect my belongings and then only too gladly will I go with you to your office. I have only one request to make."

"What is that?" asked Cyril.

"A very simple one" replied Helen "only that Marshland should come with us and be our servant."

"Certainly," answered Cyril. "I shall be only too pleased, for the one servant I have is just leaving and I am sure Marshland will suit."

"Pardon me" said Mr. Palsey "I think Cyril, if you take my advice you will leave this wicked interfeering old woman behind I warn you she will be the plague of your life, for I myself have had experience of what she can do poking her nose into people's rooms, the meddling old cat."

"Mr. Palsey" said Helen calmly and with great dignity "perhaps you will allow Cyril to settle this matter, and if you will allow me to add, I would far rather be a meddling old cat, than a cruel hard hearted person who could murder a good innocent man for the sake of his money, and then could look the daughter of that man in the face with a cold unflinching gaze."

Gladys uttered a low scream and staggered towards the door; she is loosing her head she sobbed, "going mad, and all through you James." For Gladys knew nothing of Helen's suspicions.

"No Gladys" replied Helen, "dont cry, for I am not loosing my head or going mad either, and you have my utmost pity for having a husband such as he."

But nothing could soothe poor Gladys and as Helen stooped to comfort her, Mr. Palsey took the opportunity of speaking to Cyril.

"You idiot" he hissed "look what you have led Helen up to, making her speak to me like that, now I doubt if Gladys will belive in me, and if she does not there will be an end to my rich marriage."

"I dont care" said Cyril, for he truly felt he had the upper hand, "I consider it would be a very good thing if Miss Lincarrol does not marry you for she is too good a girl to be joined with a low villain like you."

"Very well" cried Mr. Palsey savagely "as you evidently consider yourself a saint, (though you did help me in the murder and other matters too) perhaps it will be better for both of us if we seperate at once.

I have my half of the money and you have yours, so that is all settled, you can take Helen to London and marry her and I will take Gladys to Norfolk where all her relations live and marry her when I get settled and the less we hear of each other the better, that is my opinion and I hope it suits you.

"It does" replied Cyril calmly "let us tell the girls and the sooner you and Gladys get packed off the better for I must stay here another week with Helen."

"Gladys" cried Mr. Palsey firmly "get up at once and stop crying."

Gladys dried her eyes and sat up.

"Look here" continued Mr. Palsey, "you and I are going back to Norfolk this evening as soon as we can mannage it, and Mr. Sheene intends stopping another week with Miss Winston till he goes to London and remember the less you and she hear of one another the better; you will be much better for the loss of her company and your relations too would much rather you left here, it is taking effect on your health my dear, so be ready to start by 6 o'clock this evening and I will call for you; you and Helen will have plenty of time to say your last adieu before that; is that settled?" he added turning to Cyril.

"Quite" replied Cyril.

Gladys broke into heart broken sobbing but being used to obey she ran quickly upstairs to collect her things.

With a cry Helen ran to Cyril and put her arms round his neck.

Mr. Palsey bit his lips and turning to the window he turned over the past events in his mind and he thought how very well he had managed that last little bit of business.



CHAPTER 17

BOUND FOR NORFOLK

Let us now return to Gladys.

Arrived at her bedroom she began to collect her various articles of clothing in a hazy and disturbed manner, every now and then sitting down to burst into a terrible fit of weeping.

It took her over half an hour to pack up, and then having bathed her burning face, she began to feel very hungry.

Finding a few biscuits in a tin, she lost no time in eating them and then she rang her bell.

To her supprise Helen came to the door instead of Marshland.

"Oh dear Gladys" cried Helen kindly "I am so very sorry that you are going."

"Oh Helen," sobbed Gladys "it nearly breaks my heart to think of it, and we may not even write to each other."

"Dont say that" cried Helen, "if ever I can manage it I'll always send you a note privately, for I shall never forget Gladys that you saved my life."

Gladys could not speak for crying.

"Now Gladys" said Helen "do stop crying or you will be ill, did you want anything when you rang just now."

"Oh yes please" replied Gladys "if I might have something to eat, I am so very hungry."

"Certainly, dear" said Helen and she darted downstairs, soon to return with a plate of well cut ham and a couple of poached eggs and a comforting cup of coffee.

Having spread this out, she sat down to watch Gladys eat it.

The poor girl looked very worn out and tired and great red and black lines encircled her blue eyes, "oh Helen" she said at last "do tell me what you meant by speaking so strongly to James just now.

The tears came into Helen's eyes, "dont ask me Gladys dear" she said, some day I will contrive to let you know by letter but I cant tell you now."

A silence followed and then Helen spoke again, "do you know" she said. "I am very glad things have turned out like this. I shall be happy too and perhaps forget all about me and all this misery."

"Oh Helen" cried Gladys "I will never forget you it will be impossible."

"I dont know" said Helen "you see its like this, although we shall write to each other (for my mind is made up on that score) when once you are happy, though you will not exactly forget me, you will forget this misery at parting and so you will be able to think of me without pain or regret, and it will be like a wound which though healed over is still to be seen, do you under stand?"

"Yes dear Helen" said Gladys "there is certainly truth in what you say, but do you think we shall either of us be happy again?"

"Yes" said Helen with a smile, "I do, light is certainly breaking through the darkness after all Gladys"

Ah Helen!, happily for you that you can see the bright light appearing, but there are dark clouds gathering in the distance which you do not see but which nevertheless are coming nearer and nearer and will soon burst over your head and extinguish the sunshine and the light.

The dreary morning passed away at last and the afternoon followed suit. A quarter to six found Gladys and Helen taking a last farewell in the drawing room before Mr. Palsey arrived.

"Oh Helen shall we ever meet again, sobbed Gladys.

"Hush hush" said Helen "dont cry Gladys and let me give you some advice before you go. Dont sob or show any emotion when you bid me goodbye and if afterwards Mr. Palsey should mention me to you be quite calm and show him you do not care, when next we meet I'll tell you my reasons and be sure they're good ones."

Voices were heard at the front door and going into the hall, they found Mr. Palsey and Cyril talking and a carriage waiting at the gate.

"Goodbye Miss Lincarrol" said Cyril as he took her hand "I am sorry you have to go."

"Not at all" said Gladys brightly "goodbye Mr. Sheene, thanks for all your kindness."

Here Mr. Palsey interposed "goodbye Miss Winston" he said raising his hat.

Helen drew herself up and gave him a look (such a one as once seen never forgotten) and then turning to her friend said, "well goodbye Gladys, a pleasant journey to you dear."

"Goodbye Helen" said Gladys bravely and calmly and without a break in her voice.

"I hope you will enjoy yourself in London."

Mr. Palsey looked astounded, he had expected a loud fit of crying at least.

"Wont you say goodbye to me Miss Winston he asked sheepishly.

"No cried Helen in a laud voice, "it was an evil day for you Mr. Palsey when my good father asked you to his house."

Mr. Palsey jumped into the open fly and put his bag beside him.

Helen stood on the steps waving her hand with tears in her eyes, while Gladys, for the sake of the friend she loved, sat erect and tearless in the carriage which soon wheeled her away from "Beach Dale" and its occupants.



CHAPTER 18

THE OFFICE

Left alone in the dreary little cottage, a sense of utter lonliness came over Helen. She truly felt as though the one spark of happiness in her life had faded. Sitting down in an arm chair, she took up some crochet and tried to do a little work before sunset.

In a few minutes Cyril entered, fresh from a country walk.

"Ah Helen" he cried "you're busy I see."

"No I'm not" replied Helen sadly "did you want me for anything?"

"Well I was thinking it might be as well to go and see the autioneer, Mr. Graham," replied Cyril "you see all this furniture must be sold and a week is but a short time to settle everything."

"Yes I presume that would be best" said Helen with a sigh "where does this Mr. Graham live?" "Not a very long way off" replied Cyril "49 Eastern Grove is his address"

"Oh yes I know" said Helen "when shall we start?"

"Now, if you like" said Cyril

"Very well," and Helen tossed away her crochet and put on her hat.

It did not take very long to reach Eastern Grove, a pretty little street at the end of Kenelham. Helen stood by while Cyril arranged matters to his own taste. At last all was settled and Mr. Graham politely promised to be round at Beach Dale by 9 o'clock the next morning.

The next three days were busy ones indeed for Helen. All day she was flying up and downstairs, from attic to kitchen placing the furniture to be sold in lots and keeping what she wanted to take, in her own bedroom. Marshland helped all she could but being old and stiff she could do little but sit in the kitchen and moan at the loss of her beloved master's goods.

Friday came at last (the day Cyril had arranged for starting) and Helen was up early taking a last look at the rooms, garden walks etc., that she loved.

It was a boiling hot day and they had to start in the middle of the heat.

A large waggon came to the door wherein all the odd pieces of furniture were packed and the trunks and boxes being put on the top of that, Helen and Marshland got a small wooden bench which they put at the door of the waggon for, as Marshland truly remarked "Air was better than comfort," and there they seated themselves to drive to the station—Cyril had gone on to take the tickets and see about a comfortable carriage.

It was two o'clock by the time they reached Holburn.

Cyril jumped out, ordered a hansom while Helen attended to the luggage.

"Now Marshland" cried Cyril "you and Miss Helen will kindly get into this hansom and I'll tell the man where to drive to, I have a bussiness matter to settle, but you can tell the servant girl I'll be into tea."

Helen and Marshland got hastily into the hansom, to the old servant's inexpressible delight who had never ridden in anything but the customary Kenelham dog cart, and the waggon she had recently quitted. Helen however was too tired to notice anything and the new sights and sounds had no charm for her country eyes.

Presently the cab stopped at a small dreary looking office with the name Sheene & Co: in guilt letters on the window. Two men evidently the clerks, were watching with intense excitement the descent of the two ladies from the cab, their faces being pressed upon the iron blind of the office window.

Helen went up the steps and timidly rang the "visitors bell."

It was soon answered by a rought untidy looking servant girl, with no cap and a dirty cotton dress, whom Marshland eyed with intense disgust.

"Are you Mr. Sheene's ladies?" asked the girl.

"Yes" replied Helen "and Mr. Sheene wished me to say you were to show us to our rooms at once, he himself will not be in till tea time."

"All right" responded the servant "step and in and follow me."

She then led the way down a narrow passage past the home affair, till she came to a door which she flung open, announcing it was the sitting room.

"You wont want your bedrooms yet awhile" she said "because they're not ready."

"Oh pray dont trouble" said Helen.

"Very well" replied the girl and she went off closing the door behind her.

"The slovenly creature" cried Marshland "Mr. Sheene has evidently had no practice in choosing his domestics.

The room in which they found themselves was rather small and very stuffey, the window being tight shut and the blind down. A red carpet adorned the floor a common deal table with a check cloth stood in the middle of the room, and three chairs were carefully arranged round it. A leather armchair was by the fireplace adorned by a crochet antimicassa, and a sofa of the same description was by the window. The mantle piece was furnished with two glass vases, and a clock, and a large photograph of Cyril and his two clerks. A sideboard was by the door covered with a clean cloth, a parrafin lamp, two trays and a bowl of lavender.

"What do you think of it?" asked Helen after she had opened the window and taken off her hat and gloves.

"Humph" said Marshland looking round "pretty fair, but law Miss Helen, comparing it with your father's dainty little parlour its a mere scullery."

"Yes" said Helen "but dont let us hurt poor Cyril's feelings, no doubt he likes it."

"No doubt" replied Marshland.

By 5 o'clock Cyril came in, very hot but happy for all that. "Well Helen" he said "what do you think of your future abode?"

"Oh its very nice" answered Helen.

"Well let us ring for tea" cried Cyril "you will take your meal with us tonight Marshland, but tomorrow you will find your place in the kitchen with Alice the maid, who will do all the hard work while you preside."

Marshland looked pleased but said nothing.

Alice brought in the tea, and the three made it off shrimps and bread and butter and by that time Helen was pleased to go to bed, quite pleased with her first day in London.

Helen's bedroom was at the top of a very steep staircase and it was even more stuffy than the sitting room. A rather dirty white blind hung in the window, which Marshland instantly tore down, "the filthy rag" she exclaimed "never mind Miss Helen, in a few weeks, I'll have this fit for a lady and the sitting room too for that matter.

The iron bed stead was of the collapsible kind and Helen had to prop it up with empty trunks in order to get a night's rest, but what with the squalling of the office cats and the noise of the clerks and servants below, it was in the small hours of the morning before either she or Marshland got a wink of sleep.



CHAPTER 19

IMPROVEMENTS

It was 8 o'clock, the following morning when Helen was awakened by hearing a loud dispute outside her door between Marshland and Alice Grimstone (the maid).

Glancing at her watch, Helen jumped out of bed and began her toilet and half way through she was interrupted by Alice bouncing in announcing it was gone 8 o'clock and would she (Helen) care about any water for washing. Helen declared she would, upon which she was presented with a can of hot water and a clean towel, soap already having been provided.

Having placed the last hair pin in her knob and fastenned her white blouse, Helen went down to the sitting room, where a smell of hot coffee and fried bacon greated her nose.