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+Project Gutenberg's The Ivory Gate, a new edition, by Walter Besant
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Ivory Gate, a new edition
+
+Author: Walter Besant
+
+Release Date: December 23, 2010 [EBook #34738]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE IVORY GATE, A NEW EDITION ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from
+scanned images of public domain material from the Internet
+Archive.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Book Cover]
+
+
+
+
+THE IVORY GATE
+
+
+  _Sunt geminæ Somni portæ: quarum altera fertur
+  Cornea, qua veris facilis datur exitus umbris:
+  Altera candenti perfecta nitens elephanto:
+  Sed falsa ad cælum mittunt insomnia manes._
+
+  VIRGIL, _Æn._ VI.
+
+
+
+
+NOTE.
+
+
+After this novel was commenced in _Chambers's Journal_ it was discovered
+that the title had already been used by the late Mr. Mortimer Collins,
+for a novel published in the year 1865. The Author communicated with Mr.
+Collins's representatives, and has to thank them for making no
+opposition to the use of this title.
+
+
+
+
+THE IVORY GATE
+
+
+BY
+WALTER BESANT
+
+AUTHOR OF 'ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN' ETC.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+_A NEW EDITION_
+
+
+London
+CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY
+1893
+
+
+
+
+_TO_
+_S. SQUIRE SPRIGGE, ESQ., M.D._
+
+
+     _MY DEAR SPRIGGE,_
+
+     _Since it was you who first instructed me in the existence
+     of the brain disease which forms the motif of this story,
+     and furnished me with such illustrations of its working as
+     enabled me to write the story, I am in honour bound to make
+     the most public acknowledgment possible of this fact._
+
+     _I therefore beg to inscribe your name on the title page of
+     this volume in grateful recognition of an obligation which
+     is not by any means discharged by such recognition. I am
+     also moved to do so in remembrance of another kind of work
+     in which I have been so fortunate as to have your invaluable
+     collaboration._
+
+  _Very sincerely yours,_
+  _WALTER BESANT._
+
+  UNITED UNIVERSITY CLUB, S.W.
+  _September 12, 1892._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER                                                           PAGE
+         PROLOGUE: WHO IS EDMUND GRAY?                                 1
+       I.  UP THE RIVER                                               29
+      II.  IN THE OFFICE                                              37
+     III.  THE SELECT CIRCLE                                          47
+      IV.  A REBELLIOUS CHILD                                         56
+       V.  SOMETHING HAPPENS                                          65
+      VI.  SOMETHING MORE HAPPENS                                     74
+     VII.  SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENS                                     83
+    VIII.  IN HONOUR OF THE EVENT                                     93
+      IX.  AT THE GATES OF PARADISE                                  102
+       X.  A MYSTERIOUS DISCOVERY                                    110
+      XI.  A MYSTERIOUS DISCOVERY                                    118
+     XII.  THE FIRST FIND                                            134
+    XIII.  THINGS MORE REMARKABLE                                    142
+     XIV.  CHECKLEY'S CASE                                           152
+      XV.  WHO IS EDMUND GRAY?                                       162
+     XVI.  THE VOICE OF DUTY                                         172
+    XVII.  WAS HE IN RAGS?                                           180
+   XVIII.  THE PRODIGAL AT HOME                                      188
+     XIX.  THE WHISPER OF CALUMNY                                    195
+      XX.  HE COMES FROM EDMUND GRAY                                 205
+     XXI.  I AM EDMUND GRAY                                          213
+    XXII.  MASTER AND DISCIPLE                                       223
+   XXIII.  THE HALL OF THE NEW FAITH                                 231
+    XXIV.  CAN HE REMEMBER?                                          240
+     XXV.  WILL HE REMEMBER?                                         248
+    XXVI.  THE LESSON OF THE STREET                                  255
+   XXVII.  'I KNOW THE MAN'                                          272
+  XXVIII.  ATHELSTAN'S DISCOVERY                                     280
+    XXIX.  CHECKLEY SEES A GHOST                                     288
+     XXX.  THE DAY AFTER THE GHOST                                   296
+    XXXI.  THE THREE ACCOMPLICES                                     304
+   XXXII.  ELSIE AND HER MOTHER                                      315
+  XXXIII.  PLENARY CONFESSION                                        320
+   XXXIV.  LE CONSEIL DE FAMILLE                                     338
+    XXXV.  THE LAST                                                  355
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+WHO IS EDMUND GRAY?
+
+
+Mr. Edward Dering, in a rare interval of work, occupied himself with
+looking into his bank book. Those humble persons whom the City,
+estimating the moral and spiritual worth of a man by his income, calls
+'small,' frequently and anxiously examine their bank books, add up the
+columns, and check the entries. Mr. Dering, who was not a small man, but
+a big man, or rather, from a City point of view, a biggish man, very
+seldom looked at his bank book; first because, like other solicitors in
+large practice, he had clerks and accountants to do that kind of work
+for him: next because, like many solicitors, while he managed the
+affairs of other people with unceasing watchfulness, he was apt to
+neglect his own affairs. Happily, when one has an income of some
+thousands, private affairs from time to time force themselves upon their
+owner in the most agreeable manner possible. They obtrude themselves
+upon him. They insist upon being noticed. They compel him to look after
+them respectfully: to remove them from the dulness of the bank, and to
+make them comfortable in investments.
+
+Mr. Dering opened the book, therefore, having for the moment nothing
+else to do, looked at the balance, was satisfied with its appearance,
+and began working backwards, that is to say, upwards, to read the
+entries. Presently, he came to one at which he stopped, holding his
+forefinger on the name.
+
+It was on the right-hand side, the side which to small men is so
+terrifying, because it always does its best to annihilate the cash
+balance, and seems bent upon transforming addition into multiplication,
+so amazing are the results. The name which Mr. Dering read was Edmund
+Gray. The amount placed in the same line opposite to that name was
+720_l_. Therefore, he had drawn a cheque to the order of Edmund Gray for
+the sum of 720_l_.
+
+Now, a man may be in very great practice indeed; but if, like Mr.
+Dering, he knows the details of every case that is brought into the
+House, he would certainly remember drawing a cheque for 720_l_., and the
+reason why it was drawn, and the person for whom it was drawn,
+especially if the cheque was only three weeks old. Seven hundred and
+twenty pounds! It is a sum in return for which many and very substantial
+services must be rendered.
+
+'Edmund Gray!' he murmured. 'Strange! I cannot remember the name of
+Edmund Gray. Who is Edmund Gray? Why did I give him 720_l_.?'
+
+The strange fact that he should forget so large a sum amused him at
+first. Beside him lay a book which was his private Diary. He opened it
+and looked back for three months. He could find no mention anywhere of
+Edmund Gray. To repeat: he knew all the details of every case that came
+into the House: he signed all the cheques: his memory was as tenacious
+and as searching as the east wind in April; yet this matter of Edmund
+Gray and his cheque for 720_l_. he could not recall to his mind by any
+effort.
+
+There is a certain stage in brain fatigue when one cannot remember
+names: it is the sure and certain symptom of over-work: the wise man
+recognises the symptom as a merciful warning and obeys it. Mr. Dering
+knew this symptom. 'I must take a holiday,' he said. 'At sixty-seven,
+one cannot afford to neglect the least loss of memory. Edmund Gray! To
+forget Edmund Gray and 720_l_.! I must run down to the sea-side for a
+fortnight's rest.'
+
+He shut up the bank book and tried to go back to his work. But this name
+came back to him. 'Edmund Gray,' he murmured--'Edmund Gray. Who on earth
+is this Edmund Gray? Why did he get a cheque for 720_l_.?'
+
+The thing ceased to amuse him: it began to irritate him: in two minutes
+it began to torture him: he leaned back in his chair: he drummed with
+his fingers on the table: he took up the book and looked at the entry
+again. He got up and walked about the room--a long lean figure in a
+tight frock-coat. To walk about the room and to swing your arms often
+stimulates the memory. In this case, however, no good effect followed.
+The _nommé_ Edmund Gray remained a name and nothing more--the shadow of
+a name. Mr. Dering rapped the table with his paper-knife, as if to
+conjure up that shadow. Futile superstition! No shadow appeared. But how
+could the shadow of a name--an unknown name--carry off 720 golden
+sovereigns?
+
+'I feel as if I am going mad,' he murmured. 'Seven hundred and twenty
+pounds paid by myself in a single lump, only three weeks ago, and I
+remember nothing about it! I have no client named Edmund Gray. The money
+must therefore have been paid by me for some client to this unknown
+person. Yet it was paid by my cheque, and I don't remember it. Strange!
+I never forgot such a thing before.'
+
+There was an office bell on the table. He touched it. A clerk--an
+elderly clerk--an ancient clerk--obeyed the call. He was the clerk who
+sat in the room outside Mr. Dering's office: the clerk who wrote the
+cheques for the chief to sign, brought back the letters when they had
+been copied, directed the letters for the post, received visitors, and
+passed in cards: in fact, the private secretary, stage-manager--we all
+want a stage-manager in every profession--or confidential clerk. As
+befits a man of responsibility, he was dressed all in black, his office
+coat being as shiny as a mirror on the arms and on the shoulders: by
+long habit it hung in certain folds or curves which never unbent: his
+face was quite shaven and shorn: all that was left of his white hair was
+cut short: his eyes were keen and even foxy: his lips were thin: his
+general expression was one of watchfulness: when he watched his master
+it was with the attention of a servant: when he watched anybody else it
+was as one who watches a rogue, and would outwit him, if he could, at
+his own roguery. In certain commercial walks of the lower kind, where
+honour and morality consist in the success of attempts to cheat each
+other, this kind of expression is not uncommon. Whether his expression
+was good or bad, he was an excellent clerk: he was always at his post at
+nine in the morning: he never left the office before seven, and, because
+Mr. Dering was a whale for work, he sometimes stayed without a grumble
+until eight or even nine. Man and boy, Checkley had been in the office
+of Dering & Son for fifty-five years, entering as an errand-boy at
+twelve.
+
+'Checkley,' said his master, 'look at this bank book. Credit side.
+Fourth entry. Have you got it?'
+
+'Edmund Gray, 720_l_.,' the clerk read.
+
+'Yes. What is that cheque for? Who is Edmund Gray?'
+
+The clerk looked surprised. 'I don't know,' he said.
+
+'Why did I pay that money?'
+
+The clerk shook his head.
+
+'Did you look at the book when you laid it on the table?'
+
+The clerk nodded.
+
+'Well--what did you think of it?'
+
+'I didn't think of it at all. It wasn't one of the cheques you told me
+to draw about that time ago. If I had thought, I should have supposed it
+was your private business.'
+
+'I was not aware, Checkley, that I have any private affairs that you do
+not know.'
+
+'Well--but you might have.'
+
+'True. I might have. Just so. As I haven't--who, I ask you again--who is
+this Edmund Gray?'
+
+'I don't know.'
+
+'Have you ever heard of any Edmund Gray?'
+
+'Never to my knowledge.'
+
+'This is the first time you have heard that name?' the lawyer persisted.
+
+'The very first time.'
+
+'Consider. Is there any Edmund Gray in connection with any of my
+clients?'
+
+'Not to my knowledge.'
+
+'Not to your knowledge. Has any Edmund Gray ever been employed about the
+office?'
+
+'No--certainly not.'
+
+'We have recently been painted and papered and whitewashed and new
+carpeted at great expense and inconvenience. Did Edmund Gray conduct any
+of those operations?'
+
+'No.'
+
+'Has the name of Edmund Gray ever been mentioned in any letters that
+have come here?'
+
+It was notorious in the office that Checkley read all the letters that
+came, and that he never forgot the contents of any. If you named any
+letter he would at once tell you what was written in it, even if it were
+twenty years old.
+
+'I have never even heard the name of Edmund Gray in any letter or in any
+connection whatever,' the clerk replied firmly.
+
+'I put all these questions, Checkley, because I was pretty certain
+myself from the beginning; but I wanted to make myself quite certain. I
+thought it might be a trick of failing memory. Now, look at the name
+carefully'--the clerk screwed up his eyes tightly in order to get a good
+grip of the name. 'You see I have given him a cheque for 720_l_., only
+three weeks ago. I am not the kind of man to give away 720_l_. for
+nothing. Yet I have actually forgotten the whole business.'
+
+Certainly he did not look the kind of man to forget such a simple thing
+as the giving away of 720_l_. Quite the contrary. His grave face, his
+iron-grey hair, his firm lips, his keen, steady eyes, apart from the
+methodical regularity with which his papers were arranged before him,
+all proclaimed that he was very far from being that kind of man. Very
+much the reverse, indeed.
+
+'You don't mean to say, sir,' Checkley began, with a change in his face
+from watchfulness to terror--'you can't mean----'
+
+'I mean this, Checkley. I know of no Edmund Gray; and unless the bank
+has made a mistake, there has been committed--a--what do they call it in
+the law-courts?'
+
+The clerk held the bank book in his hand, staring at his master with
+open eyes. 'What?' he repeated. 'What do they call it? Good Lord! They
+call it forgery--and for 720_l_.! And on you, of all people in the
+world! And in this office! In our office!--our office! What a dreadful
+thing, to be sure! Oh, what a dreadful thing to happen! In our
+office--here!' The clerk seemed unable to express his astonishment.
+
+'First of all, get me the returned cheques.'
+
+The cheques always came back in the pocket of the bank book. Checkley
+was accustomed to take them out and to file them in their proper place.
+
+Again, Mr. Dering neither drew his cheques nor wrote his letters with
+his own hand. He only signed them. One clerk wrote the letters; another
+drew the cheques by his instruction and dictation.
+
+Checkley went back to his own room and returned with a bundle of
+returned drafts. He then looked in the safe--a great fireproof
+safe--that stood open in one corner of the room, and took out the
+current cheque book.
+
+'Here it is,' he said. 'Check drawn by you yourself in your own
+handwriting, and properly signed, payable to order--not crossed--and
+duly endorsed. Now you understand why I know nothing about it. Edmund
+Gray, Esquire, or order. Seven hundred and twenty pounds. Signed Dering
+& Son. Your own handwriting and your own signature.'
+
+'Let me look.' Mr. Dering took the paper and examined it. His eyes
+hardened as he looked. 'You call this my handwriting, Checkley?'
+
+'I--I--I did think it was,' the clerk stammered. 'Let me look again. And
+I think so still,' he added more firmly.
+
+'Then you're a fool. Look again. When did I ever sign like that?'
+
+Mr. Dering's handwriting was one of those which are impossible to be
+read by any except his own clerks, and then only when they know what to
+expect. Thus, when he drew up instructions in lawyer language, he
+expressed the important words by an initial, a medial, or a final
+consonant, and made scratches for all the words between; his clerks,
+however, understood him very well. If he had written a love letter, or a
+farce, or a _ballade_, or a story, no one, either clerks, or friends, or
+compositors, would have understood anything but a word here and a word
+there. For his signature, however, that was different. It was the
+signature of the Firm: it was a signature a hundred and twenty years
+old: it was an eighteenth-century signature: bold, large, and clear,
+every letter fully formed: with dots and flourishes, the last letter
+concluding with a fantasia of penmanship belonging to a time when men
+knew how to write, belonging to the decorative time of penmanship.
+
+'Two of the dots are out of place,' said Checkley, 'and the flourish
+isn't quite what it should be. But the cheque itself looks like your
+hand,' he added stoutly. 'I ought to have seen that there was something
+wrong about the signature, though it isn't much. I own to that. But the
+writing is like yours, and I would swear to it still.'
+
+'It isn't my handwriting at all, then. Where is the counterfoil?'
+
+Checkley turned over the counterfoils. 'What is the date?' he asked.
+'March the 4th? I can't find it. Here are cheques for the 3rd and for
+the 6th, but none at all for the 4th.'
+
+'Let me look.' Strange! There was no counterfoil. And the numbers did
+not agree with that on the cheque.
+
+'You haven't got another cheque book, have you?'
+
+'No; I certainly have not.'
+
+Mr. Dering sat with the cheque in his hand, looking at it. Then he
+compared it with a blank cheque. 'Why,' he said, 'this cheque is drawn
+from an old book--two years old--one of the books before the bank
+amalgamated and changed its title and the form of the cheques--not much
+of a change, it is true--but--how could we be such fools, Checkley, as
+not to see the difference?'
+
+'Then somebody or other must have got hold of an old cheque book.
+Shameful! To have cheque books lying about for every common rogue to go
+and steal!'
+
+Mr. Dering reflected. Then he looked up and said: 'Look again in the
+safe. In the left-hand compartment over the drawer, I think you will
+find an old cheque book. It belonged to a separate account--a Trust.
+That has been closed. The book should be there.--Ah! There it is.--I
+wonder now,' the lawyer went on, 'how I came to remember that book? It
+is more than two years since I last used it or even thought of it.
+Another trick of memory. We forget nothing, in fact, nothing at all.
+Give it to me. Strange, that I should remember so slight a thing.
+Now--here are the cheques, you see--colour the same--lettering the
+same--size the same--the only difference being the style and title of
+the Company. The fellow must have got hold of an old book left about, as
+you say, carelessly. Ah!' His colour changed. 'Here's the very
+counterfoil we wanted! Look! the number corresponds. The cheque was
+actually taken from this very book! a book in my own safe! in this very
+office! Checkley, what does this mean?'
+
+Checkley took the book from his master with a trembling hand, and read
+feebly the writing of the counterfoil, March 4th, 1883. Edmund Gray,
+720_l_.'
+
+'Lord knows what it means,' he said. 'I never came across such a thing
+in my life before.'
+
+'Most extraordinary! It is two years since I have given a thought to
+the existence of that book. Yet I remembered it the moment when it
+became useful. Well, Checkley, what have you got to say? Can't you
+speak?'
+
+'Nothing--nothing. O Lord, what should I have to say. If you didn't draw
+that cheque with your own hand----'
+
+'I did not draw that cheque with my own hand.'
+
+'Then--then it must have been drawn by somebody else's hand.'
+
+'Exactly.'
+
+'Perhaps you dictated it.'
+
+'Don't be a fool, Checkley. Keep your wits together, though this is a
+new kind of case for you. Criminal law is not exactly in your line. Do
+you think I should dictate my own handwriting as well as my own words?'
+
+'No. But I could swear--I could indeed--that it is your writing.'
+
+'Let us have no more questions and answers. It is a forgery. It is a
+forgery. It is not a common forgery. It has been committed in my own
+office. Who can have done it? Let me think'--he placed the cheque and
+the old cheque book before him. 'This book has been in my safe for two
+years. I had forgotten its very existence. The safe is only used for my
+private papers. I open it every morning myself at ten o'clock. I shut it
+when I go up-stairs to lunch. I open it again when I return. I close it
+when I go away. I have not departed from this custom for thirty years. I
+could no more sit in this room with the safe shut--I could no more go
+away with the safe open--than I could walk the streets in my shirt
+sleeves. Therefore, not only has the forgery been committed by some one
+who has had access to my safe, but by some one who has stolen the cheque
+in my very presence and before my eyes. This consideration should narrow
+the field.' He looked at the cheque again. 'It is dated March the 4th.
+The date may mean nothing. But it was presented on the 5th. Who came to
+my room on the 4th or the days preceding? Go and find out.'
+
+Checkley retired and brought back his journal.
+
+'You saw on the 4th----' He read the list of callers.
+
+'That doesn't help,' said Mr. Dering.
+
+'On the 1st, 2d, 3d, and 4th you had Mr. Arundel working with you here
+every day from ten till twelve.'
+
+'Mr. Arundel. Yes, I remember. Anybody else?'
+
+'Nobody else.'
+
+'You forget yourself, Checkley,' Mr. Dering said. 'You were, as usual,
+in and out at different times.'
+
+'O Lord! sir-- I hope you don't think----' The old clerk stammered,
+turning pale.
+
+'I think nothing, I want to find out. Go to the bank. See the manager.
+Let him tell you if he can find out by whom the cheque was cashed. If in
+notes--it must have been in notes--let those notes be instantly stopped.
+It is not crossed, so that we must not expect anything so simple as the
+Clearing House. Go at once and find out exactly what happened.'
+
+This happened at about half-past ten. The bank was no more than five
+minutes' walk. Yet it was twelve o'clock when the clerk returned.
+
+'Well, what have you found out?' asked the master.
+
+'I have found out a great deal,' Checkley began eagerly. 'First, I saw
+the manager, and I saw the pay clerk. The cheque was handed in by a
+commissionaire. Everybody trusts a commissionaire. The pay clerk knows
+your signature, and thought it was all right. I showed the cheque to the
+manager. He knows your handwriting, and he says he would swear that the
+cheque was drawn by you yourself. So I am not such a fool as you think.'
+
+'Go on.'
+
+'The commissionaire told the pay clerk that he was ordered to take it
+all in ten-pound notes. He took them, put them in his pouch, and walked
+away. He was a one-armed man, and took a long time over the job, and
+didn't seem a bit in a hurry.'
+
+'About the notes?'
+
+'The manager will stop them at once. But he says that if the thing was
+done by an old hand, there must be confederates in it, and there will be
+trouble. However, the notes are stopped. That's done. Then I went on to
+the commissionaires' barracks in the Strand. The sergeant very soon
+found the man, and I had a talk with him. He was employed by an old
+gentleman, he says, staying at the Cecil Hotel, Strand. The old
+gentleman sent him to the bank with instructions to get the money in
+ten-pound notes; and very particular he was with him about not losing
+any of them on the way. He didn't seem a bit in a hurry either. Took
+the notes from the man and laid them in a pocket-book. It was in the
+coffee-room, and half a dozen other gentlemen were there at the same
+time. But this gentleman seemed alone.'
+
+'Humph! A pretty cool business, upon my word! No hurry about it. Plenty
+of time. That was because they knew that the old cheque book would not
+be found and examined.'
+
+'Why did they write the cheque on the counterfoil? Why did they put the
+cheque book back again--after they had taken it out?'
+
+'I don't know. The workings of a forger's brain are not within the
+compass of my experiences. Go on, Checkley.'
+
+'The commissionaire says that he is certain he would know the gentleman
+again.'
+
+'Very good indeed, if we can only find the gentleman.'
+
+'I then went on to the Cecil Hotel and saw the head waiter of the
+coffee-room. He remembered the commissionaire being sent for: he saw the
+bundle of bank-notes brought back from the bank, and he remembers the
+old gentleman very well. Says he should certainly know him again.'
+
+'Did he describe him?'
+
+'There didn't seem anything particular to describe. He was of average
+height, so to speak, dressed in grey trousers and a black frock-coat,
+and was grey-haired. Much as if I was to describe you.'
+
+'Oh! The notes are stopped. Yet in three weeks there has been ample time
+to get them all changed. Every note may have been changed into gold in
+three weeks. An elderly gentleman: grey hair: average height: that tells
+us nothing. Checkley, the thing has been done by some one who had, or
+still has, access to my safe. Perhaps, in some way or other, keys have
+been procured. In that case----' He stepped over to the safe and opened
+a drawer. 'See, Checkley; this drawer is untouched: it is full of
+jewellery and things which belonged to my mother. Nothing touched. Here
+is a bag of spade guineas again--nothing taken. What do you say to that?
+If the forger had possessed keys, he would, first of all, have cleared
+out the things which he could turn into money without any difficulty and
+very little risk. Nothing taken except that cheque, and the cheque book
+replaced. What do you say to that? Eh?'
+
+'I don't know what to say. I'm struck stupid. I never heard of such a
+thing before.'
+
+'Nor I. Why, it must have been done in this room, while the safe was
+open, while I was actually present. That is the only solution possible.
+Again, who has been in this room?'
+
+'All the callers--I read their names to you--your clients.'
+
+'They all sit in that chair. They never leave that chair so long as they
+are with me.' He indicated the chair which stood at the corner of the
+lawyer's great table at his left hand. Now the safe was in the far
+corner, on the other side of the room. 'They could not possibly----
+Checkley, the only two who could possibly have access to that safe in
+office hours are yourself and Mr. Arundel.'
+
+'Good heavens! sir--you can't believe--you can't actually think----'
+
+'I believe nothing. I told you so before. I think nothing. I want the
+facts.'
+
+The room was long rather than square, lit by two large windows,
+overlooking the gardens of New Square, Lincoln's Inn. The lawyer sat
+with his back to the fire, protected by a cane-screen, before a large
+table. On his left hand, at the corner of the table, stood the clients'
+chair: on his right hand, between the two windows, was a small table
+with a couple of drawers in it. And in the corner, to the left of any
+one writing at the small table, and on the right hand of the lawyer, was
+the open safe already mentioned. There were two doors, one communicating
+with the clerk's room, the other opening directly on the stairs. The
+latter was locked on the inside.
+
+'Call Mr. Arundel,' said the chief.
+
+While Checkley was gone, he walked to the window and observed that any
+one sitting at the table could, by merely reaching out, take anything
+from the safe and put it back again unobserved, if he himself happened
+to be occupied or looking another way. His grave face became dark. He
+returned to his own chair, and sat thinking, while his face grew darker
+and his eyes harder, until Mr. Arundel appeared.
+
+Athelstan Arundel was at this time a recently admitted member of the
+respectable but too numerous family of solicitors. He was between two
+and three and twenty years of age, a tall and handsome young fellow, of
+a good manly type. He was an ex-articled clerk of the House, and he had
+just been appointed a Managing Clerk until something could be found for
+him. The Arundels were a City family of some importance: perhaps
+something in a City Firm might presently be achieved by the united
+influence of family and money. Meantime, here he was, at work, earning a
+salary and gaining experience. Checkley--for his part, who was as
+jealous of his master as only an old servant, or a young mistress, has
+the right to be--had imagined symptoms or indications of a growing
+preference or favour toward this young gentleman on the part of Mr.
+Dering. Certainly, he had Mr. Arundel in his own office a good deal, and
+gave him work of a most confidential character. Besides, Mr. Dering was
+Executor and Trustee for young Arundel's mother, and he had been an old
+friend and schoolfellow of his father, and had known the young man and
+his two sisters from infancy.
+
+'Mr. Arundel,' the lawyer began. At his own house, he addressed his ward
+by his Christian name: in the office, as managing clerk, he prefixed the
+courtesy title. 'An extremely disagreeable thing has happened here.
+Nothing short of a forgery.--Don't interrupt me, if you please'--for the
+young man looked as if he was about to practise his interjections.--'It
+is a most surprising thing, I admit. You needn't say so, however. That
+wastes time. A Forgery. On the fifth of this month, three weeks ago, a
+cheque, apparently in my handwriting, and with my signature, so
+skilfully executed as to deceive even Checkley and the manager of the
+bank, was presented at my bank and duly cashed. The amount
+is--large--720_l_.--and the sum was paid across the counter in ten-pound
+notes, which are now stopped--if there are any left.' He kept his eyes
+fixed on the young man, whose face betrayed no other emotion than that
+of natural surprise. 'We shall doubtless trace these notes, and through
+them, of course, the forger. We have already ascertained who presented
+the cheque. You follow?'
+
+'Certainly. There has been a forgery. The forged cheque has been cashed.
+The notes are stopped. Have you any clue to the forgery--any
+suspicions?'
+
+'As yet, none. We are only beginning to collect the facts.' The lawyer
+spoke in the coldest and most austere manner. 'I am laying them, one by
+one, before you.'
+
+Young Arundel bowed.
+
+'Observe then, that the forged cheque belongs to a cheque book which
+has been lying, forgotten by me, in this safe for two years. Here is the
+book. Turn to the last counterfoil. Here is the cheque, the forged
+cheque, which corresponds. You see?'
+
+'Perfectly. The book has been in the safe for two years. It has been
+taken out by someone--presumably the forger--the cheque has been forged;
+the counterfoil filled up; and the book replaced. Why was all this
+trouble taken? If the man had got the cheque, why did he fill up the
+counterfoil? Why did he return the book? I beg your pardon.'
+
+'Your questions are pertinent. I come to the next point. The safe is
+never opened but by myself. It is open so long as I am in the room, and
+at no other time.'
+
+'Certainly, I know that.'
+
+'Very well. The man who took out this cheque book, forged the cheque,
+and replaced the book, must have done it in my very presence.'
+
+'Oh! Could not someone--somehow--have got a key?'
+
+'I thought of that. It is possible. But the drawers are full of
+valuables, jewellery--curios--all kinds of things which could easily be
+turned into money. And they were not touched. Now, had the safe been
+opened by a key, these things would certainly have vanished.'
+
+'So it would seem.'
+
+'These are the main facts, Mr. Arundel. Oh! one more. We have found the
+messenger who cashed the cheque. Perhaps there are one or two other
+points of more or less importance. There is only one more point I wish
+to bring before you. Of course--I make no charge--I insinuate none. But
+this must be remembered--there are only two persons who have had access
+to this safe in such a manner as to make it possible for them to take
+anything out of it-- Checkley----'
+
+'No--no--no,' cried the old man.
+
+'And you yourself. At the time of the robbery, you were working at that
+table with the safe open and within reach of your left hand. This is a
+fact, mind--one of the facts of the case--not a charge.'
+
+'What?' cried the young man, his cheek aflame--'you mean----'
+
+'I mean nothing--nothing at all. I want you--and Checkley--who alone
+have used this room, not counting callers who sat in that chair--to know
+the facts.'
+
+'The facts--yes--of course--the facts. Well'--he spoke rapidly and a
+little incoherently--'it is true that I worked here--but--oh! it is
+absurd. I know nothing of any cheque book lying in your safe. I was
+working at this table'--he went to the table--'sitting in this chair.
+How could I get up and search about in a safe for an unknown and
+unsuspected cheque book before your very eyes?'
+
+'I do not know. It seems impossible. I only desire you to consider, with
+me, the facts.'
+
+Had Mr. Dering spoken just a little less coldly, with just a little less
+dryness in his manner, what followed would perhaps have been different.
+
+'Yes--the facts,' repeated the young man. 'Well--let us get at the
+facts. The chief fact is that whoever took that cheque and filled it up
+must have known the existence of that cheque book more than two years
+old.'
+
+'It would seem so.'
+
+'Who could know about that old cheque book? Only one who had been about
+your office more than two years, or one who had had opportunities of
+examining the safe. Now, you sat there--I sat here'--he seated himself,
+only turning the chair round. 'How is it possible for a man sitting here
+to take anything out of that safe without your seeing him? How is it
+possible for him, without your knowledge, to examine slowly and
+carefully the contents of the safe?'
+
+'Everything is possible,' said Mr. Dering, still coldly. 'Let us not
+argue on possibilities. We have certain facts before us. By the help of
+these, I shall hope to find out others.'
+
+'At five o'clock every day I put the work in the drawer of this table
+and I go away.' He opened the drawer, as if to illustrate this
+unimportant fact. He saw in it two or three pieces of paper with writing
+on them. He took them out. 'Good Heavens!' he cried. 'They are
+imitations of your handwriting.'
+
+Checkley crossed the room swiftly, snatched them from him, and laid them
+before his master. 'Imitations of your handwriting,' he said,
+'imitations--exercises in forgery--practice makes perfect. Found in the
+drawer. Now!'
+
+Mr. Dering looked at the papers and laid them beside the forged cheque.
+'An additional fact,' he said. 'These are certainly imitations. The
+probable conclusion is that they were made by the same hand that forged
+this cheque.'
+
+'Found in the drawer,' said Checkley, 'used by Mr. Arundel. Never by me.
+Ah! The only two, are we? These imitations will prove that I'm not in
+it.'
+
+'The fact that these imitations are found in the drawer,' said Mr.
+Dering, 'is a fact which may or may not be important.'
+
+'What?' cried the young man, flaring up. 'You think that I made those
+imitations?'
+
+'I do not permit myself--yet--to make any conclusions at all.
+Everything, however, is possible.'
+
+Then this foolish young man lost his temper and his head.
+
+'You have known me all my life,' he cried. 'You have known me and all my
+people. Yet at the first moment you are ready to believe that I have
+committed a most abominable forgery! You--my father's oldest friend--my
+mother's Trustee! My own Guardian! You!'
+
+'Pardon me. There are certain facts in this case. I have laid them
+before you. I have shown----'
+
+'To suspect me,' Arundel repeated, 'and all the time another man--that
+man--your clerk--who knows everything ever done in this office, is in
+and about the place all day long.'
+
+'The imitations,' said Checkley quietly, 'were found in his own
+drawer--by himself.'
+
+'Who put them there? Who made them? You--villain and scoundrel!'
+
+'Stop, stop,' said Mr. Dering coldly. 'We go too fast. Let us first
+prove our facts. We will then proceed to conclusions.'
+
+'Well, sir, you clearly believe that I forged your name and robbed you
+of all this money. I have not got ten pounds in the world; but that is
+not, I suppose, a fact which bears on the case. You think I have seven
+hundred pounds somewhere. Very good. Think so, if you please. Meanwhile,
+I am not going to stay in the service of a man who is capable of
+thinking such a thing. I leave your service--at once. Get some one else
+to serve you--somebody who likes being charged with forgery and theft.'
+He flung himself out of the room and banged the door behind him.
+
+'He has run away,' said Checkley. 'Actually, run away at the very
+outset! What do you think now?'
+
+'I do not think. We shall, I daresay, find out the truth in due course.
+Meantime, these documents will remain in my keeping.'
+
+'Only, I hope, sir,' the clerk began, 'that after what you've just seen
+and heard, after such insolence and running away and all----'
+
+'Don't be an ass, Checkley. So far as appearances go, no one could get
+at the safe except you and Arundel. So far as the ascertained facts go,
+there is nothing to connect either of you with the thing. He is a
+foolish young man; and if he is innocent, which we must, I suppose,
+believe'--but his look did not convey the idea of robust faith--'he will
+come back when he has cooled down.'
+
+'The imitations of your handwriting in his drawer----'
+
+'The man who forged the cheque,' said Mr. Dering, 'whoever he was, could
+easily have written those imitations. I shall see that hot-headed boy's
+mother, and bring him to reason.--Now, Checkley, we will resume work.
+And not a word of this business, if you please, outside. You have
+yourself to think of as well, remember. You, as well as that boy, have
+access to the safe. Enough--enough.'
+
+Athelstan Arundel walked home all the way, foaming and raging. No
+omnibus, cab, or conveyance ever built could contain a young man in such
+a rage. His mother lived at Pembridge Square, which is four good
+measured miles from Lincoln's Inn. He walked the whole way, walking
+through crowds, and under the noses of dray-horses, carriage-horses, and
+cart-horses, without taking the least notice of them. When he reached
+home, he dashed into the drawing-room, where he found his two
+sisters--Hilda and Elsie--one of them a girl of eighteen, the other of
+thirteen. With flaming cheeks and fiery eyes he delivered himself of his
+story; he hurled it at their heads; he called upon them to share his
+indignation, and to join with him in scorn and contempt of the
+man--their supposed best friend, Trustee, Guardian, Adviser--their
+father's best friend--who had done this thing--who had accused him, on
+the bare evidence of two or three circumstantial facts, of such a crime!
+
+There is something magnetic in all great emotions: one proof of their
+reality is that they are magnetic. It is only an actor who can endow an
+assumed emotion with magnetism. Elsie, the younger girl, fell into a
+corresponding sympathy of wrath: she was equal to the occasion: passion
+for passion, she joined him and fed the flame. But--for all persons are
+not magnetic--the elder sister remained cold. From time to time she
+wanted to know exactly what Mr. Dering had said: this her brother was
+too angry to remember: she was pained and puzzled: she neither soothed
+him nor sympathised with him.
+
+Then the mother returned, and the whole story was told again, Elsie
+assisting. Now, Mrs. Arundel was a woman of great sense: a practical
+woman: a woman of keen judgment. She prided herself upon the possession
+of these qualities, which are not supposed to be especially feminine.
+She heard the story with disturbed face and knitted brow.
+
+'Surely,' she said, 'what you tell me, Athelstan, is beyond belief. Mr.
+Dering, of all men, to accuse you--you--of such a thing! It is
+impossible.'
+
+'I wish it was impossible. He accuses me of forging that cheque for
+720_l_. He says that while I was working in his office for him, a
+fortnight ago, I took a certain cheque book out of the safe, forged his
+writing on a cheque, and returned the cheque book. This is what he says.
+Do you call that accusing, or don't you?'
+
+'Certainly. If he says that. But how can he--Mr. Dering--the most exact
+and careful of men? I will drive to Lincoln's Inn at once and find out.
+My dear boy, pray calm yourself. There is--there must be--some terrible
+mistake.'
+
+She went immediately; and she had a long interview with the solicitor.
+
+Mr. Dering was evidently much disturbed by what had happened. He did not
+receive her as he usually received his clients, sitting in his
+arm-chair. He pushed back the chair and stood up, leaning a hand on the
+back of it, a tall, thin, erect figure, gray-haired, austere of face.
+There was little to reassure the mother in that face. The very trouble
+of it made her heart sink.
+
+'I certainly have not accused Athelstan,' he said. 'It is, however,
+quite true that there has been a robbery here, and that of a large sum
+of money--no less than 720_l_.'
+
+'But what has that to do with my boy?'
+
+'We have made a few preliminary inquiries. I will do for you, Mrs.
+Arundel, what I did for your son, and you shall yourself understand
+what connection those inquiries have with him.'
+
+He proceeded coldly and without comment to set forth the case so far as
+he had got at the facts. As he went on, the mother's heart became as
+heavy as lead. Before he finished, she was certain. There is, you see, a
+way of presenting a case without comment which is more efficacious than
+any amount of talk; and Mrs. Arundel plainly perceived--which was indeed
+the case--that the lawyer had by this time little doubt in his own mind
+that her son had done this thing.
+
+'I thought it right,' he continued, 'to lay before him these facts at
+the outset. If he is innocent, I thought, he will be the better able to
+prove his innocence, and perhaps to find the guilty person. If he is
+guilty, he may be led to confession or restitution. The facts about the
+cheque book and the safe are very clear. I am certain that the safe has
+not been opened by any other key. The only persons who have had access
+to it are Checkley and your son Athelstan. As for Checkley--he couldn't
+do it, he could not possibly do it. The thing is quite beyond him.'
+
+Mrs. Arundel groaned. 'This is terrible!' she said.
+
+'Meantime, the notes are numbered: they may be traced: they are stopped:
+we shall certainly find the criminal by means of those notes.'
+
+'Mr. Dering'--Mrs. Arundel rose and laid her hand on his--'you are our
+very old friend. Tell me--if this wretched boy goes away--if he gives
+back the money that remains--if I find the rest--will there be--any
+further--investigation?'
+
+'To compound a felony is a crime. It is, however, one of those crimes
+which men sometimes commit without repentance or shame. My dear lady, if
+he will confess and restore--we shall see.'
+
+Mrs. Arundel drove home again. She came away fully persuaded in her own
+mind that her son--her only son--and none other, must be that guilty
+person. She knew Mr. Dering's room well: she had sat there hundreds of
+times: she knew the safe: she knew old Checkley. She perceived the
+enormous improbability of this ancient clerk's doing such a thing. She
+knew, again, what temptations assail a young man in London: she saw what
+her Trustee thought of it: and she jumped to the conclusion that her
+son--and none other--was the guilty person. She even saw how he must
+have done it: she saw the quick look while Mr. Dering's back was turned:
+the snatching of the cheque book: the quick replacing it. Her very
+keenness of judgment helped her to the conviction. Women less clever
+would have been slower to believe. Shameful, miserable termination of
+all her hopes for her boy's career! But that she could think of
+afterwards. For the moment the only thing was to get the boy away--to
+induce him to confess--and to get him away.
+
+He was calmer when she got home, but he was still talking about
+the thing: he would wait till the right man was discovered: then
+he would have old Dering on his knees. The thing would be set right
+in a few days. He had no fear of any delay. He was quite certain
+that it was Checkley--that old villain. Oh! He couldn't do it by
+himself, of course--nobody could believe that of him. He had
+accomplices--confederates--behind him. Checkley's part of the job was to
+steal the cheque book and give it to his confederates and share the
+swag.
+
+'Well, mother?' he asked.
+
+His mother sat down. She looked pale and wretched.
+
+'Mother,' cried Hilda, the elder sister. 'Quick! What has happened? What
+does Mr. Dering say?'
+
+'He accuses nobody,' she replied in a hard dry voice. 'But----'
+
+'But what?' asked Hilda.
+
+'He told me everything--everything--and--and----Oh!' She burst into sobs
+and crying, though she despised women who cry. 'It is terrible-- It is
+terrible-- It is incredible. Yet, what can I think? What can any one
+think? Leave us, Hilda. Leave us, Elsie.' The two girls went out
+unwillingly. 'Oh! my son--how can I believe it? And yet--on the one
+hand, a boy of two-and-twenty exposed to all the temptations of town: on
+the other, an old clerk of fifty years' service and integrity. And when
+the facts are laid before you both--calmly and coldly--you fly into a
+rage and run away, while Checkley calmly remains to await the inquiry.'
+
+Mrs. Arundel had been accustomed all her life to consider Mr. Dering as
+the wisest of men. She felt instinctively that he regarded her son with
+suspicion: she heard all the facts: she jumped to the conclusion that he
+was a prodigal and a profligate: that he had fallen into evil ways, and
+spent money in riotous living: she concluded that he had committed these
+crimes in order to get more money for more skittles and oranges.
+
+'Athelstan '--she laid her hand upon his arm, but did not dare to lift
+her eyes and behold that guilty face--'Athelstan'--confess--make
+reparation so far as you can--confess--oh! my son--my son! You will be
+caught and tried and found guilty, and--oh! I cannot say it--through the
+notes which you have changed. They are all known and stopped.'
+
+The boy's wrath was now changed to madness.
+
+'You!' he cried. 'You! My own mother! You believe it, no! Oh! we are all
+going mad together. What? Then I am turned out of this house, as I am
+turned out of my place. I go, then--I go; and'--here he swore a mighty
+oath, as strong as anybody out of Spain can make them--'I will
+never--never--never come home again till you come yourself to beg
+forgiveness--you--my own mother!'
+
+Outside, in the hall, his sisters stood, waiting and trembling.
+
+'Athelstan,' cried the elder, 'what, in the name of Heaven, have you
+done?'
+
+'Go, ask my mother. She will tell you. She knows, it seems, better than
+I know myself. I am driven away by my own mother. She says that I am
+guilty of--of--of forgery.'
+
+'If she says so, Athelstan,' his sister replied coldly, 'she must have
+her reasons. She would not drive you out of the house for nothing. Don't
+glare like that. Prove your innocence.'
+
+'What? You, too? Oh! I am driven away by my sisters as well----'
+
+'No, Athelstan--no,' cried Elsie, catching his hand. 'Not both your
+sisters.'
+
+'My poor child;' he stooped and kissed her. 'They will make you believe
+what they believe. Good Heavens! They make haste to believe it; they are
+glad to believe it.'
+
+'No--no. Don't go, Athelstan.' Elsie threw her arms about him. 'Stay,
+and show that they are wrong. Oh! you are innocent. I will
+never--never--never believe it.'
+
+He kissed her again, and tore himself away. The street door slammed
+behind him: they heard his footsteps as he strode away. He had gone.
+
+Then Elsie fell into loud weeping and wailing. But Hilda went to comfort
+her mother.
+
+'Mother,' she said, 'did he really, really and truly do it?'
+
+'What else can I believe? Either he did it or that old clerk. Where is
+he?'
+
+'He is gone. He says he will come back when his innocence is proved.
+Mother, if he is innocent, why does he run away? It's foolish to say
+that it is because we believe it. I've said nothing except that you
+couldn't believe it without reasons. Innocent young men don't run away
+when they are charged with robbery. They stay and fight it out.
+Athelstan should have stayed.'
+
+Later on, when they were both a little recovered, Hilda tried to
+consider the subject more calmly. She had not her mother's cleverness,
+but she was not without parts. The following remarks--made by a girl of
+eighteen--prove so much.
+
+'Mother,' she said, 'perhaps it is better, so long as this suspicion
+rests upon him, that he should be away. We shall certainly know where
+he is: he will want money, and will write for it. If it should prove
+that somebody else did the thing, we can easily bring him back as a
+martyr--for my own part I should be so glad that I would willingly
+beg his pardon on my knees--and of course we could easily get him
+replaced in the office. If it is proved that he did do it--and that,
+you think, they will be certain to find out--Mr. Dering, for your sake,
+will be ready to hush it up--perhaps we may get the notes back--he
+can't have used them all; in any case it will be a great comfort to
+feel that he is out of the way: a brother convicted--tried in open
+court--sentenced--oh!' She shuddered. 'We should never get over it:
+never, never! It would be a most dreadful thing for Elsie and me. As for
+his going away, if people ask why he is gone and where, we must invent
+something--we can easily make up a story--hint that he has been
+wild--there is no disgrace, happily, about a young man being wild--that
+is the only thing that reconciles one to the horrid selfishness of wild
+young men--and if, by going away in a pretended rage, Athelstan has
+really enabled us to escape a horrid scandal--why, mother, in that
+case--we may confess that the blow has been by Providence most
+mercifully softened for us--most mercifully. We ought to consider that,
+mother.'
+
+'Yes, dear, yes. But he is gone. Athelstan is gone. And his future
+seems ruined. There is no hope for him. I can see no hope whatever. My
+dear, he was so promising. I thought that all the family influence would
+be his--we haven't got a single City solicitor in the whole family. I
+thought that he was so clever and so ambitious and so eager to get on
+and make money and be a credit to the family. Solicitors do
+sometimes--especially City solicitors--become so very, very rich; and
+now it is all gone and done--and nothing left to hope but the miserable
+wish that there should be no scandal.'
+
+'It is indeed dreadful. But still--consider--no scandal. Mother, I think
+we should find out, if we can, something about his private life--how he
+has been living. He has been out a good deal of evenings lately. If
+there is any--any person--on whom he has been tempted to spend money--if
+he has been gambling--or betting, or any of the things that I read
+of'--this young lady, thanks to the beneficent assistance of certain
+works of fiction, was tolerably acquainted with the ways of young men
+and their temptations--'it would be a satisfaction to know it at least.'
+
+The ladies of a family where there is a 'wild' young man do not
+generally find it easy to get at the facts of his wildness: these remain
+locked up in the bosoms of his companions. No details could be learned
+about any wildness--quite the contrary. He seemed, so far as could be
+learned, to have led a very quiet and regular life. 'But then,' said the
+philosopher of eighteen, quoting from a novel, 'men shelter each other.
+They are all bad together.'
+
+But--no scandal.
+
+Everybody knows that kind of brother or sister by whom all family events
+are considered with a view to the scandal likely to be caused and the
+personal injury resulting to himself; or the envy that will follow and
+the personal advantage accruing from that event. That her brother was
+perhaps a shameful criminal might be considered by Hilda Arundel later
+on: at first, she was only capable of perceiving that this horrid fact,
+unless it could be hidden away and kept secret, might very materially
+injure herself.
+
+Almost naturally, she folded her hands sweetly and laid her comely head
+a little on one side--it is an attitude of resignation which may be
+observed in certain pictures of saints and holy women. Hilda knew many
+little attitudes. Also, quite naturally, she glanced at a mirror on the
+wall and observed that her pose was one of sorrow borne with Christian
+resignation.
+
+We must blame neither Hilda nor her mother. The case as put by Mr.
+Dering in the form of plain fact without any comment, did seem very
+black indeed against Athelstan. In every family the first feeling in
+such a case--it is the instinct of self-preservation--is to hush up the
+thing if possible--to avoid a scandal.
+
+Such a scandal as the prosecution of a brother for forgery--with a
+verdict of guilty--is a most truly horrible, deplorable, fatal thing. It
+takes the respectability out of a family perhaps at a critical moment,
+when the family is just assuming the robes of respectability: it ruins
+the chances of the girls: it blights the prospects of the boys: it
+drives away friends: it is a black spot which all the soaps ever
+advertised could never wash off. Therefore, while the mother hoped,
+first of all, that the boy would escape the clutch of the law, Hilda
+was, first of all, grateful that there would be no scandal. Mr. Dering
+would not talk about it. The thing would not interfere with her own
+prospects. It was sad: it was miserable; but yet--no scandal. With what
+a deep, deep sigh of satisfaction did the young lady repeat that there
+would probably be no scandal!
+
+As for Elsie, that child went about for many days with tearful eyes, red
+cheeks, and a swollen nose. She was rebellious and sharp with her
+mother. And to her sister she refused to speak. The days went on. They
+became weeks, months, years. Otherwise they would not have been days.
+Nothing at all was heard of Athelstan. He sent no letters to any one: he
+did not even write for money: they knew not where he was or what he was
+doing. He disappeared. It was understood that there had been wildness.
+
+Now--which was very remarkable--though the forger had had a clear run of
+three weeks, it could not be discovered that any of the notes had been
+presented. Perhaps they were sent abroad: yet foreign and colonial banks
+would know the numbers of stopped notes. And towards the discovery of
+the forger no further step had been taken. The commissionaire who took
+the cheque had been, as you have seen, easily found: he said he should
+know the old gentleman who gave him the forged draft to cash. He said,
+being again interrogated, that Checkley was not in the least like that
+old gentleman. What could be thought, then? Athelstan must have 'made
+up' as an old man: he was fond of private theatricals: he could make up
+very well: of course he had made up. And then, this point being settled,
+they left off talking about the business.
+
+Other things happened--important things--which made the memory of the
+prodigal son to wax dim. First of all came Hilda's case. She was a
+graceful young person, with features of great regularity: her expression
+was cold, her eyes were hard, and her lips were a little thin, but these
+things at nineteen are hardly perceived. She was that sort of a girl who
+seems created for the express purpose, first of wearing and beautifying
+costly raiment, and next of sitting in a splendid vehicle. The finer the
+dress, the more beautiful she looked. The grander the carriage, the more
+queenly she seemed. In rags her coldness would be arctic, her hardness
+would be granitic: in silk and velvet she became a goddess. It was
+therefore most fitting that she should marry a rich man. Now, to be rich
+in these days, one must be old. It is the price that one has to pay for
+wealth. Sometimes one pays the price and gets old, and yet does not get
+what one has paid for. That seems hardly fair. There was a certain rich
+man, Mr. Dering's younger brother, Sir Samuel Dering, Knight, one of the
+most substantial City men, a man who had a house in Kensington Palace
+Gardens, a yacht, a country place in Sussex, and piles of papers in a
+safe, meaning investments. He was a widower without encumbrance: he was
+fifty-seven years of age, not yet decayed: he wanted a wife to be the
+mistress of his house, and to look well at his dinner-parties. Of
+course, when one does want a wife, at any age, one wants her young.
+Hilda Arundel, his brother's ward, looked as if she would discharge the
+duties required of the position admirably. He suggested the arrangement
+to his brother, who spoke about it.
+
+There was a good deal of taking about it. Mrs. Arundel showed that she
+knew the value of her daughter; but there was no doubt about the
+conclusion of the matter. There was a grand wedding, at which all the
+richer Arundels were present, and none of the poor relations. Mr.
+Dering, the young lady's guardian, gave her away; Hilda became Lady
+Dering, and has been perfectly happy ever since. Elsie remained with her
+mother. Her brother was never spoken of between them. But she
+remembered him, and she was firm in her conviction that his innocence
+would be some day established.
+
+After five years, nothing at all having been heard of the notes, Mr.
+Dering made application to the Bank of England, and received from them
+the sum of 720_l_. in new crisp notes in the place of those of which he
+had been robbed, so that the actual loss at 4 per cent. compound
+interest amounted to no more than 155_l_. 19_s_. 9-3/4_d_., which is
+more than one likes to lose, yet is not actually embarrassing to a man
+whose income is about ten thousand a year. He ceased to think about the
+business altogether, except as a disagreeable episode of his office.
+
+Then Athelstan Arundel became completely forgotten. His old friends, the
+young men with whom he had played and sported, only remembered him from
+time to time as a fellow who had come to some unknown grief, and had
+gone away. There is always some young fellow in every set of young
+fellows who gets into some scrape, and so leaves the circle, and is no
+more seen or heard of. We go on just the same without him: very seldom
+is such a man remembered long: it is the way of the world: we cannot
+stop to lament over the fallen: we must push on: others fall: close up
+the ranks: push on: Time drives: the memory of the fallen swiftly waxes
+dim.
+
+Fours years or so after the mysterious business of Edmund Gray, Mr.
+Dering received a letter with an American stamp marked 'Private and
+Confidential.' He laid this aside until he had got through the business
+letters; then he opened it. He turned first to the signature. 'Ha!' he
+said, 'Athelstan Arundel. At last. Now we shall see. We shall see.'
+
+He expected a full confession of the crime. We should never expect, says
+the Sage, what we desire, because we never obtain what we expect. It
+would have made Mr. Dering more comfortable in his mind had the letter
+contained a confession. Of course, Athelstan had done it. Nobody else
+could have done it. Yet when he thought about the business at all, there
+always arose in his mind an uneasy feeling that perhaps the boy had been
+treated unwisely. It might have been more prudent to have kept the facts
+from him, although they pointed so strongly in his direction, until
+proof positive was obtained. It might, again, have been better had the
+facts been put before him with a few words of confidence, even though
+that confidence did not exist. Time only strengthened Mr. Dering's
+suspicions against the young man. The thing _must_ have been done by
+Checkley or by him. Now, Checkley was not able, if he had wished, to
+imitate any handwriting. No! It was done by Athelstan. Why he did it,
+what he got by it, seeing that those notes had never been presented, no
+one could explain. But he did it--he did it. That was certain.
+
+Mr. Dering therefore began to read the letter with interest. Its
+commencement was without any opening words of respect or friendliness.
+And it was not by any means the letter of a wicked man turning away from
+his wickedness. Not a word of repentance from beginning to end.
+
+'Four years ago,' Mr. Dering read, 'you drove me from your place and
+changed my whole life, by a suspicion--amounting to a charge--of the
+gravest kind. You assumed, without explanation or examination, that
+because certain facts seemed to point in a certain direction, I had been
+guilty of an enormous crime, that I had robbed my father's oldest
+friend, my mother's Trustee, my own guardian, my employer, of a great
+sum of money. You never asked yourself if this suspicion was justified
+by any conduct of mine--you jumped at it.'
+
+'Quite wrong. Wilfully wrong,' said Mr. Dering. 'I laid the facts before
+him. Nothing but the facts. I brought no charge.'
+
+'I daresay that by this time the criminal has been long since detected.
+Had I remained, I would have brought the thing home to him. For of
+course it could be none other than your clerk. I have thought over the
+case thousands of times. The man who forged the cheque must have been
+one of two--either your clerk--the man Checkley--or myself. It did not
+take you long, I apprehend, to learn the truth. You would discover it
+through the presentation of the notes.'--'This is a very crafty letter,'
+said Mr. Dering; 'when he never presented any of the notes. Very
+crafty.' He resumed the letter--'Enough said about that. I daresay,
+however, that I shall some day or other--before you are dead, I
+hope--return in order to receive some expression of sorrow from you if
+you can feel shame.'--'Certainly not,' said Mr. Dering with
+decision.--'Meantime, there is a service which I must ask of you for
+the sake of my people. There is no one else whom I can ask. It is the
+reason of my writing this letter.
+
+'I came away with ten pounds--all I had in the world--in my pocket. Not
+seven hundred and twenty pounds, as you imagined or suspected. Ten
+pounds. With that slender capital I got across the Atlantic. I have now
+made twelve thousand pounds. I made it in a very short time by
+extraordinary good luck.' Mr. Dering laid down the letter and
+considered. Twelve thousand pounds might be made--perhaps--by great good
+luck--with a start of seven hundred and twenty, but hardly with ten
+pounds. A silver reef--or more likely a gambling table, or a second
+crime, or a series of crimes. It will be observed that his opinion of
+the young man was now very bad indeed: otherwise, he would have
+reflected that as none of those notes had been presented, none of them
+had been used. Even if an English ten-pound note is converted into
+American dollars, the note comes home before ten years. 'Extraordinary
+good luck.' He read the words again, and shook his head. 'Now, I want
+you to take charge of this money, to say nothing at all about it, to
+keep the matter a profound secret, to invest it or put it in some place
+of safety, where confidential clerks with a taste for forgery cannot get
+at it, and to give it, on her twenty-first birthday, to my sister Elsie.
+Do not tell her or anybody from whom the money comes. Do not tell
+anybody that you have heard from me. When I came away, she was the only
+one of all my friends and people who declared that she believed in me. I
+now strip myself of my whole possessions in order to show this mark of
+my love and gratitude towards her. In sending you this money I go back
+to the ten pounds with which I started.'
+
+Mr. Dering laid the letter down. The words, somehow, seemed to ring
+true. Could the boy--after all----? He shook his head, and went on. 'You
+will give Elsie this money on her twenty-first birthday, to be settled
+on her for herself.'
+
+  'ATHELSTAN ARUNDEL.'
+
+The letter was dated, but no address was given. The post-mark was Idaho,
+which, as we all know, belongs to a Western State.
+
+He looked into the envelope. There fell out a paper, which was a draft
+on a well-known London Firm, payable to his order for twelve thousand
+and fifty pounds.
+
+'This is very unbusiness-like,' said Mr. Dering. 'He puts all this money
+into my hands, and vanishes. These are the ways he learns in America, I
+suppose. Puts the money blindly in my hands without giving me the means
+of communicating with him. Then he vanishes. How could he prove that it
+was a Trust? Well, if I could only think--but I cannot--the
+circumstantial evidence is too strong--that the boy was innocent--I
+should be very sorry for him. As for Elsie--she must be eighteen
+now--about eighteen--she will get this windfall in three years or so. It
+will be a wonderful lift for her. Perhaps it may make all the difference
+in her future! If I could only think that the boy was innocent--a clever
+lad, too--which makes his guilt more probable. But I can't--no--I can't.
+Either Checkley or that boy--and Checkley couldn't do it. He couldn't if
+he were to try. What did the boy do it for? And what did he do with the
+notes?'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+UP THE RIVER
+
+
+'Can you not be content, George?' asked the girl sitting in the stern.
+'I think that I want nothing more than this. If we could only go on
+always, and always, and always, just like this.' She had taken off her
+right-hand glove, and she was dipping her fingers into the cool waters
+of the river as the boat slowly drifted down stream. 'Always like this,'
+she repeated softly. 'With you close to me--so that I could touch you if
+I wanted to--so that I could feel safe, you know--the sun behind us,
+warm and splendid, such a sweet and fragrant air about us, trees and
+gardens and fields and lanes on either side--and both of us always
+young, George, and--and nice to look at, and all the world before us.'
+
+She, for one, was not only young and nice to look upon, but fair--very
+fair to look upon. Even young persons of her own sex, critics and
+specialists in the Art and Science of Beauty--rivals as well--had to
+confess that Elsie was rather pretty. I believe that few such critics
+ever go farther. She was, to begin with, of sufficient stature, in a
+time when dumpy women are not considered, and when height is a first
+necessity of comeliness: she paid, next, such obedience to the laws of
+figure as becomes the age of twenty, and is, with stature, rigorously
+demanded at this end of the century. Her chief points, perhaps, lay in
+her eyes, which were of a darker shade of blue than is common. They were
+soft, yet not languid; they were full of light; they were large, and yet
+they could be quick. Her face was subject to sudden changes that made it
+like a spring-time sky of shower, rainbow, sunshine, and surprise. Her
+hair was of a very common brown, neither dark nor light. She was
+attired, this evening, in a simple gray frock of nun's cloth with a
+bunch of white roses on her left shoulder.
+
+When one says that her companion was a young man, nearly all is said,
+because the young men of the present day are surprisingly alike.
+Thousands of young men can be found like George Austin: they are all
+excellent fellows, of much higher principles, on some subjects, than
+their fathers before them; not remarkably intellectual, to judge by
+their school record: yet with intelligence and application enough to get
+through their examinations moderately: for the most part they do pass
+them with moderate success: they are not ambitious of obtaining any of
+the great prizes--which, indeed, they know to be out of their reach--but
+they always set before themselves and keep always well in sight the
+ideal suburban villa and the wife: they always work steadily, if not
+feverishly, with the view of securing these two blessings; they always
+hope to secure an income that will enable them to maintain that
+wife--with a possible following of babies--in silk attire (for Sundays);
+in ease as to household allowance; and in such freedom of general
+expenditure as may enable her to stand up among her neighbours in church
+without a blush.
+
+The world is quite full of such men: they form the rank and file, the
+legionaries: their opinion on the subject of labour is purely
+Scriptural--namely, that it is a curse: they do not particularly love
+any kind of work: they would prefer, if they had the choice, to do
+nothing at all: when they get their summer holiday they do nothing all
+day long, with zeal: they give no more thought to their work than is
+sufficient for the bread-winning: whether they are professional men or
+trading men their view of professional work is solely that it brings in
+the money. If such a young man becomes a clerk, he never tries to learn
+any more after he has left school: he accepts the position: a clerk and
+a servant he is, a clerk and a servant he will remain. If he is engaged
+in trade he gives just so much attention to his business as will keep
+his connection together: that and no more: others may soar: others may
+become Universal Providers: for his part he is contented with his shop
+and his Sunday feast. If he becomes a professional man he learns no more
+of his science than is wanted every day. The lawyer passes his exam, and
+puts away his law-books; he knows enough for professional purposes: the
+doctor reads no more; he knows enough for the ordinary needs of the
+G. P.: the schoolmaster lays aside his books; scholarship and science
+interest him no longer; he has learned enough to teach his boys: the
+curate makes no farther research into the history and foundations of his
+church; he has learned enough. In a word, the average young man is
+without ambition; he is inclined to be lazy; he loves the present far
+more than the future--indeed, all his elders unite in letting him know
+that his own is quite the most enviable time of life; he likes to enjoy
+whatever he can afford, so that he very often eats up all his wages: he
+does not read too much; he does not think too much: he does not vex his
+soul too much with the problems of life--greater problems or lesser
+problems--he accepts the teaching of his newspaper, and agrees with the
+words and the wisdom of yesterday's leading article: he accepts
+religion, politics, morals, social systems, constitutions, things
+present, past, and future, as if--which is perfectly true--he had
+nothing to do with them, and could not help it whatever was to happen.
+He never wants to alter anything; he believes that all British
+institutions are built on the solid rock and fashioned out of the
+hardest granite: any exceptions to this rule, he thinks, have come
+straight down from Heaven.
+
+Observe, if you please, that this kind of young man confers the greatest
+possible benefits upon the country. He ought to be made a Baronet at
+least, if honours meant anything. His apparent sluggishness keeps us
+from the constant changes which trouble some nations: his apparent lack
+of ambition makes it easy for the restless spirits to rise: were the
+country full of aspiring young men we should be for ever having civil
+wars, revolutions, social upsydowns, new experiments, new religions, new
+governments, new divisions of property, every year. Again, it is this
+young man who by his steady attention to business, his readiness to work
+as much as is wanted, but no more; his disregard of theories and
+speculations, his tenacity; his honesty, his loyalty, his courage, and
+his stout heart, has built up the British name so that there has never
+been any name like unto it, nor ever will be again, for these solid and
+substantial virtues.
+
+Being, then, just a young man of the time, George Austin was naturally
+like most young men in dress, in appearance, in language, and in
+manners. And had it not been for the strange experience which he was to
+undergo, he would have remained to this day just like other young men.
+He was better looking than most, having a good figure, a well-shaped
+head, and regular features, with eyes rather fuller of possibilities
+than falls to the lot of most young men. In short, a good-looking
+fellow, showing a capability for something or other in his firm mouth,
+ample cheek, strong chin, and resolute carriage. He would have made a
+fine soldier; but perhaps an unsuccessful general, for want of that
+quality which in poets is called genius. In the same way he would in a
+lower walk keep a business together, but would fail to achieve a great
+fortune for lack of the same quality. As for his age, he was
+seven-and-twenty.
+
+'Always like this,' the girl went on. 'Always floating down the stream
+under a summer sky. Always sweet looks and love and youth. It seems as
+if we could never be unhappy, never be worried, never want anything, on
+such an evening as this.' She turned and looked up the stream, on which
+lay the glory of the sinking sun--she sighed. 'It is good to come out on
+such an evening only to have a brief dream of what might be. When will
+the world give up their foolish quarrels, and join together to make the
+lives of all happy?'
+
+They had been talking, among other things, of socialism, all out of
+yesterday's leading article.
+
+'When,' George replied, 'there is enough of good things to go round:
+when we invent a way to make all men ready to do their share as well as
+to devour it: when we find out how to make everybody contented with his
+share.'
+
+Elsie shook her head, which was filled with vague ideas--the ideas of a
+restless and a doubting time. Then she went back to her original
+proposition. 'Always like this, George--and never to get tired of it.
+Time to stand still--nothing to change: never to get tired of it: never
+to want anything else. That is Heaven, I suppose.'
+
+'We are on earth, Elsie,' said her lover. 'And on earth Everything
+changes. If we were to go on drifting down the stream, we should get
+into trouble over the weir. To capsize would be a pretty interruption to
+your Heaven, wouldn't it! And the sun will soon be setting and the river
+will get misty; and the banks will grow ugly. But the chief thing is
+that we shall both grow old. And there is such a lot that we have got to
+do before we grow old.'
+
+'Everything has to be done,' said Elsie. 'I suppose we have done nothing
+yet.'
+
+'We have got to get married for the first thing, before we grow old.'
+
+'Couldn't you love an old woman, George?'
+
+'Not so well, Elsie,' her lover replied, truthfully. 'At least, I think
+not.--And oh! Elsie, whenever I do think of the future, my heart goes
+down into my boots. For the prospect grows darker and darker.'
+
+Elsie sighed. She knew, already, too well, what was in his mind. Plenty
+of girls, in these days, know the familiar tale.
+
+'Darker every day,' he repeated. 'They keep on crowding into the
+profession by multitudes, as if there was room for any number. They
+don't understand that what with the decay of the landed interest and of
+the country towns, and the cutting down of the costs, and the work that
+goes to accountants, there isn't half the business to do that there was.
+There don't seem any partnerships to be had for love or money, because
+the few people who have got a good thing have got no more than enough
+for themselves. It is no use for the young fellows to start by
+themselves; so they have got to take whatever they can get, and they are
+glad to get even a hundred a year to begin with--and I am
+seven-and-twenty, Elsie, and I'm drawing two hundred pounds a year.'
+
+'Patience, George! something will turn up. You will find a partnership
+somewhere.'
+
+'My child, you might as well tell Robinson Crusoe that a boiled leg of
+mutton with caper sauce was going to turn up on his desert island. We
+must not hope for the impossible. I ought to be grateful, I suppose,
+considering what other men are doing. I am planted in a good solid
+House. It won't run away, so long as the old man lives.'
+
+'And after that?'
+
+'Well, Mr. Dering is seventy-five. But he will not die yet, not for a
+long time to come. He is made of granite: he is never ill: he never
+takes a holiday: he works harder than any of his people; and he keeps
+longer hours. To be sure, if he were to die without taking a
+partner--well--in that case, there would be an end of everything, I
+suppose.--Elsie, here's the position.' She knew it already, too
+well--but it pleased them both to parade the facts as if they were
+something quite novel. 'Let us face it'--they were always facing it. 'I
+am Managing Clerk to Dering & Son--I get two hundred pounds a year--I
+have no prospect of anything better. I am bound all my life to be a
+servant. Elsie, it is not a brilliant prospect: I found out at school
+that it was best not to be too ambitious. But--a servant all my life--I
+confess that did not enter into my head. If I knew any other trade, I
+would cut the whole business. If there was any mortal thing in the whole
+world by which I could keep myself, I would try it. But there's nothing.
+I have but one trade. I can't write novels, or leading articles; I can't
+play on any instrument; I can't paint or act or sing or anything--I am
+only a solicitor--that's all. Only a solicitor who can't get on--a
+clerk, Elsie. No wonder her ladyship turns up her nose--a clerk.' He
+leaned his chin upon his hands and laughed the conventional laugh of the
+young man down on his luck.
+
+'Poor George!' she sighed. In such a case there are only two words of
+consolation. One may say 'Poor George!' or one may say 'Patience!' There
+is nothing else to say. Elsie first tried one method and then the other,
+as a doctor tries first one remedy and then another when Nature sulks
+and refuses to get well.
+
+'And,' he went on, piling up the misery, 'I am in love with the sweetest
+girl in the whole world--and she is in love with me!'
+
+'Poor George!' she repeated with a smile. 'That is indeed a dreadful
+misfortune.'
+
+'I am wasting your youth, Elsie, as well as my own.'
+
+'If it is wasted for your sake, George, it is well spent. Some day,
+perhaps----'
+
+'No--no--not some day--immediately--at once.' The young man changed
+colour and his eyes sparkled. It was not the first time that he had
+advanced this revolutionary proposal. 'Let prudence go to the----'
+
+'Not there, George--oh! not there. To the winds, perhaps, or to that
+famous city of Palestine. But not there. Why, we might never get her
+back again--poor Prudence! And we shall be sure to want her all our
+lives--very badly. We will, if you please, ask her to go for a short
+voyage for the benefit of her health. We will give her six months' leave
+of absence: but we shall want her services again after her holiday--if
+you think we can do without her for so long.'
+
+'For a whole twelvemonth, Elsie. Let us brave everything, get married at
+once, live in a garret, and have a splendid time--for a whole
+twelvemonth--on my two hundred pounds.'
+
+'And am I to give up my painting?'
+
+'Well, dear, you know you have not yet had a commission from anybody.'
+
+'How can you say so, George? I have painted you--and my sister--and my
+mother--and your sisters. I am sure that no studio even of an R.A. could
+make a braver show of work. Well--I will give it up--until Prudence
+returns. Is it to be a garret? A real garret, with sloping walls, where
+you can only stand upright in the middle?'
+
+'We call it a garret. It will take the form, I suppose, of a tiny house
+in a cheap quarter. It will have six rooms, a garden in front and a
+garden behind. The rent will be thirty pounds. For a whole twelvemonth
+it will be a real slice of Eden, Elsie, and you shall be Eve.'
+
+Elsie laughed. 'It will be great fun. We will make the Eden last longer
+than a twelvemonth. I daresay I shall like it. Of course I shall have to
+do everything for myself. To clean the doorstep will be equivalent to
+taking exercise in the fresh air: to sweep the floors will be a kind of
+afternoon dance or a game of lawn-tennis: to wash up the cups and
+saucers will be only a change of amusement.--There is one thing,
+George--one thing'--she became very serious--'I suppose you never--did
+you ever witness the scouring of a frying-pan? I don't think I _could_
+do that. And did you ever see beef-steaks before they are cooked? They
+suggest the animal in the most terrible way. I don't really think I
+could handle those bleeding lumps.'
+
+'You shan't touch a frying-pan, and we will have nothing roasted or
+fried. We will live on cold Australian beef eaten out of its native tin:
+the potatoes shall be boiled in their skins. And perhaps--I don't
+know--with two hundred pounds a year we could afford a servant--a very
+little one--just a girl warranted not to eat too much.'
+
+'What shall we do when our clothes are worn out?'
+
+'The little maid will make some more for you, I suppose. We certainly
+shall not be able to buy new things--not nice things, that is--and you
+must have nice things, mustn't you?'
+
+'I do like things to be nice,' she replied, smoothing her dainty skirts
+with her dainty hand. 'George, where shall we find this house--formerly
+Eve's own country villa before she--resigned her tenancy, you know?'
+
+'There are places in London where whole streets are filled with families
+living on a hundred and fifty pounds a year. Checkley--the chief's
+private clerk--lives in such a place: he told me so himself. He says
+there is nobody in his parish who has got a bigger income than himself:
+he's a little king among them because he gets four hundred pounds a
+year, besides what he has saved--which is enormous piles. Elsie, my
+dear, we must give up our present surroundings, and take up with
+gentility in its cheapest form.'
+
+'Can we not go on living among our own friends?'
+
+George shook his head wisely. 'Impossible. Friendship means equality of
+income. You can't live with people unless you do as they do. People of
+the same means naturally live together. Next door to Lady Dering is
+another rich Madam, not a clerk's wife. For my own part I shall sell my
+dress clothes for what they will fetch--you can exchange your evening
+things for morning things. That won't matter much. Who cares where we
+live, or how we live, so that we live together? What do you say, Elsie
+dear?'
+
+'The garret I don't mind--nor the door-steps--and since you see your way
+out of the difficulty of the frying-pan----'
+
+'You will be of age next week, when you can please yourself.'
+
+'Hilda gives me no peace nor rest. She says that there can be no
+happiness without money. She has persuaded my mother that I am going to
+certain starvation. She promises the most splendid establishment if I
+will only be guided by her.'
+
+'And marry a man fifty years older than yourself with one foot already
+well in----'
+
+'She says she has always been perfectly happy.--Well, George, you know
+all that. Next Wednesday, which is my birthday, I am to have a grand
+talk with my guardian. My mother hopes that he will bring me to my
+senses. Hilda says that she trusts entirely to Mr. Dering's good sense.
+I shall arm myself with all my obstinacy. Perhaps, George--who knows?--I
+may persuade him to advance your salary.'
+
+'No, Elsie. Not even you would persuade Mr. Dering to give a managing
+clerk more than two hundred pounds a year. But arm yourself with all you
+have got--don't forget any piece of that armour, child. The
+breastplate--there was a poor damsel once who forgot that and was caught
+by an appeal to her heart--nor the helmet--another poor damsel was once
+caught by an appeal to her reason after forgetting the helmet. The
+shield, of course, you will not forget--and for weapons, my dear, take
+your sweet eyes and your lovely face and your winning voice--and I
+swear that you will subdue even Mr. Dering himself--that hardened old
+parchment.'
+
+This was the kind of talk which these lovers held together whenever they
+met. George was poor--the son of a clergyman, whose power of advancing
+him ceased when he had paid the fees for admission. He was only a clerk,
+and he saw no chance of being anything else but a clerk. Elsie could
+bring nothing to the family nest, unless her mother made her an
+allowance. Of this there could be no hope. The engagement was considered
+deplorable: marriage, under the circumstances, simple madness. And Hilda
+had done so well for herself, and could do so much for a sister so
+pretty, so bright as Elsie! Oh! she was throwing away all her chances.
+Did one ever hear of anything so lamentable? No regard for the family:
+no ambition: no sense of what a girl owes to herself: no recognition nor
+gratitude for the gift of good looks--as if beauty was given for the
+mere purpose of pleasing a penniless lover! And to go and throw herself
+away upon a twopenny lawyer's clerk!
+
+'George,' she said seriously, 'I have thought it all out. If you really
+mean it--if you really can face poverty--mind--it is harder--much--for a
+man than a woman----'
+
+'I can face everything--with you, Elsie,' replied the lover. Would he
+have been a lover worth having if he had not made that answer? And,
+indeed, he meant it, as every lover should.
+
+'Then--George--what in the whole world is there for me unless I can make
+my dear boy happy? I will marry you as soon as you please, rich or poor,
+for better for worse--whatever they may say at home.--Will that do for
+you, George?'
+
+Since man is so constituted that his happiness wholly depends upon the
+devotion of a woman, I believe that no dear boy ever had a better chance
+of happiness than George Austin--only a managing clerk--with his Elsie.
+And so this history begins where many end, with an engagement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+IN THE OFFICE
+
+
+'I'll take in your ladyship's name. There is no one with him at this
+moment.--Oh yes, my lady,' Checkley smiled superior. 'We are always
+busy. We have been busy in this office for fifty years and more.--But I
+am sure he'll see you. Take a chair, my lady. Allow me.'
+
+Checkley, the old clerk, had other and younger clerks with him; but he
+kept in his own hands the duty, or the privilege, of going to the
+private room of the chief. He was sixty-seven when last we saw him.
+Therefore, he was now seventy-five; a little more bent in the shoulders,
+a little more feeble; otherwise unaltered. In age we either shrivel or
+we swell. Those live the longest who shrivel; and those who shrivel
+presently reach a point when they cease to shrink any more till they
+reach the ninetieth year. Checkley was bowed and bent and lean: his face
+was lined multitudinously: his cheeks were shrunken: but not more so
+than eight years before. He wrote down the name of the caller--Lady
+Dering--on a square piece of paper, and opened the door with an
+affectation of extreme care not to disturb the chief's nerves by a sharp
+turn of the handle, stepped in as if it was most important that no one
+should be able to peep into the room, and closed the door softly behind
+him. Immediately he reappeared, and held the door wide open, inviting
+the lady to step in. She was young; of good stature and figure,
+extremely handsome in face; of what is called the classical type, and
+very richly dressed. Her carriage might have been seen, on looking out
+of the window, waiting in the square.
+
+'Lady Dering, sir,' said Checkley. Then he swiftly vanished, closing the
+door softly behind him.
+
+'I am glad to see you, Hilda.' The old lawyer rose, tall and commanding,
+and bowed, offering his hand with a stately and old-fashioned courtesy
+which made ladies condone his unmarried condition. 'Why have you called
+this morning? You are not come on any business, I trust. Business with
+ladies who have wealthy husbands generally means trouble of some kind.
+You are not, for instance, in debt with your dressmaker?'
+
+'No--no. Sir Samuel does not allow of any difficulties or awkwardness of
+that kind. It is not about myself that I am here, but about my sister,
+Elsie.'
+
+'Yes? What about her? Sit down, and let me hear.'
+
+'Well, you know Elsie has always been a trouble to us on account of her
+headstrong and wilful ways. She will not look on things from a
+reasonable point of view. You know that my mother is not rich, as I have
+learnt to consider rich, though of course she has enough for a simple
+life and a man-servant and a one-horse brougham. Do you know,' she added
+pensively, 'I have often found it difficult not to repine at a
+Providence which removes a father when he was beginning so well, and
+actually on the high-road to a great fortune.'
+
+'It is certainly difficult to understand the wisdom of these
+disappointments and disasters. We must accept, Hilda, what we cannot
+escape or explain.'
+
+'Yes--and my mother had nothing but a poor thousand a year!--though I am
+sure that she has greatly bettered her circumstances by her transactions
+in the City. Well--I have done all I can, by precept and by example, to
+turn my sister's mind into the right direction. Mr. Dering'--by long
+habit Hilda still called her guardian, now her brother-in-law, by his
+surname--'you would hardly believe the folly that Elsie talks about
+money.'
+
+'Perhaps because she has none. Those who have no property do not
+understand it. Young people do not know what it means or what it
+commands. And whether they have it or not, young people do not know what
+the acquisition of property means--the industry, the watchfulness, the
+carefulness, the self-denial. So Elsie talks folly about money--well,
+well'--he smiled indulgently--'we shall see.'
+
+'It is not only that she talks, but she acts. Mr. Dering, we are in
+despair about her. You know the Rodings?'
+
+'Roding Brothers? Everybody knows Roding Brothers.'
+
+'Algy Roding, the eldest son of the senior partner--enormously rich--is
+gone--quite gone--foolish about Elsie. He has been at me a dozen times
+about her. He has called at the house to see her. He cares nothing at
+all about her having no money. She refuses even to hear his name
+mentioned. Between ourselves, he has not been, I believe, a very steady
+young man; but of course he would settle down; we could entirely trust
+to a wife's influence in that respect: the past could easily be
+forgotten--in fact, Elsie need never know it: and the position would be
+splendid. Even mine would not compare with it.'
+
+'Why does she object to the man?'
+
+'Says he is an ugly little snob. There is a becoming spirit for a girl
+to receive so rich a lover! But that is not all. She might have him if
+she chose, snob or not, but she prefers one of your clerks--actually,
+Mr. Dering, one of your clerks.'
+
+'I have learned something of this from your mother. She is engaged, I am
+told, to young Austin, one of my managing clerks.'
+
+'Whose income is two hundred pounds a year. Oh! think of it! She refuses
+a man with ten thousand a year at the very least, and wants to marry a
+man with two hundred.'
+
+'I suppose they do not propose to marry on this--this pittance--this two
+hundred a year?'
+
+'They are engaged: she refuses to break it off: he has no money to buy a
+partnership: he must therefore continue a clerk on two hundred.'
+
+'Managing clerks get more, sometimes; but, to be sure, the position is
+not good, and the income must always be small.'
+
+'My mother will not allow the man in the house: Elsie goes out to meet
+him: oh, it is most irregular. I should be ashamed for Sir Samuel to
+know it. She actually goes out of the house every evening, and they walk
+about the square garden or in the Park till dark. It is exactly like a
+housemaid going out to meet her young man.'
+
+'It does seem an unusual course; but I am no judge of what is becoming
+to a young lady.'
+
+'Well--she needn't go on like a housemaid,' said her sister. 'Of course
+the position of things at home is strained, and I don't know what may
+happen at any moment. Elsie says that she shall be twenty-one next week,
+and that she means to act on her own judgment. She even talks of setting
+up a studio somewhere and painting portraits for money. That is a
+pleasant thing for me to contemplate. My own sister earning her own
+living by painting!'
+
+'How do you think I can interfere in the matter? Lovers' quarrels or
+lovers' difficulties are not made or settled in this room.'
+
+'Mr. Dering, there is no one in the world of whom she is afraid, except
+yourself. There is no one of whose opinion she thinks so much. Will you
+see her? Will you talk with her? Will you admonish her?'
+
+'Why, Hilda, it so happens that I have already invited her to call upon
+me on her birthday, when she ceases to be my ward. I will talk to her
+if you please. Perhaps you may be satisfied with the result of my
+conversation.'
+
+'I shall--I am sure I shall.'
+
+'Let me understand. You desire that your sister shall marry a man who,
+if he is not already rich, should be at least on the high road to
+wealth. You cannot force her to accept even the richest young man in
+London unless she likes him, can you?'
+
+'No. Certainly not. And we can hardly expect her to marry, as I did
+myself, a man whose wealth is already established. Unless she would take
+Algy Roding.'
+
+'Very good. But he must have a certain income, so as to ensure the means
+of an establishment conducted at a certain level.'
+
+'Yes. She need not live in Palace Gardens, but she ought to be able to
+live--say in Pembridge Square.'
+
+'Quite so. I suppose, with an income of fifteen hundred or so to begin
+with. If I make her understand so much, you will be satisfied?'
+
+'Perfectly.--My dear Mr. Dering, I really believe you have got the very
+young man up your sleeve. But how will you persuade her to give up the
+present intruder?'
+
+'I promise nothing, Hilda--I promise nothing. I will do my best,
+however.'
+
+Hilda rose and swept back her dress.
+
+'I feel an immense sense of relief,' she said. 'The dear child's
+happiness is all I desire. Perhaps if you were to dismiss the young man
+immediately, with ignominy, and were to refuse him a written character
+on the ground of trying to win the affections of a girl infinitely above
+him in station, it might produce a good effect on Elsie--showing what
+you think of it--as well as an excellent lesson for himself and his
+friends. There is no romance about a cast-off clerk. Will you think of
+this, Mr. Dering? The mere threat of such a thing might make him ready
+to give her up; and it might make her inclined for his own sake to send
+him about his business.'
+
+'I will think of it, Hilda.--By the way, will you and my brother dine
+with me on Monday, unless you are engaged? We can talk over this little
+affair then at leisure.'
+
+'With pleasure. We are only engaged for the evening. Now I won't keep
+you any longer.--Good-bye.'
+
+She walked away, smiling graciously on the clerks in the outer office,
+and descended the stairs to the carriage, which waited below.
+
+Mr. Dering returned to his papers. He was not changed in the eight years
+since the stormy interview with this young lady's brother: his small
+whiskers were a little whiter: his iron-gray hair was unchanged; his
+lips were as firm and his nostrils as sharp, his eyes as keen as then.
+
+The room looked out pleasantly upon the garden of New Square, where the
+sunshine lay warm upon the trees with their early summer leaves.
+Sunshine or rain, all the year round, the solicitor sat in his
+high-backed chair before his great table. He sat there this morning
+working steadily until he had got through what he was about. Then he
+looked at his watch. It was past two o'clock. He touched a bell on the
+table, and his old clerk came in.
+
+Though he was the same age as his master, Checkley looked a great deal
+older. He was bald, save for a small white patch over each ear; he was
+bent, and his hands trembled. His expression was sharp, foxy, and
+suspicious. He stood in the unmistakable attitude of a servant, hands
+hanging in readiness, head a little bent.
+
+'The clerks are all gone, I suppose?' said Mr. Dering.
+
+'All gone. All they think about when they come in the morning is how
+soon they will get away. As for any pride in their work, they haven't
+got it.'
+
+'Let them go.--Checkley, I have wanted to speak to you for some time.'
+
+'Anything the matter?' The old clerk spoke with the familiarity of long
+service which permits the expression of opinions.
+
+'The time has come, Checkley, when we must make a change.'
+
+'A change? Why--I do my work as well as ever I did--better than any of
+the younger men. A change?'
+
+'The change will not affect you.'
+
+'It must be for you then. Surely you're never going to retire!'
+
+'No--I mean to hold on as long as I can. That will only be for a year or
+two at most. I am seventy-five, Checkley.'
+
+'What of that? So am I. You don't find me grumbling about my work, do
+you? Besides, you eat hearty. Your health is good.'
+
+'Yes, my health is good. But I am troubled of late, Checkley--I am
+troubled about my memory.'
+
+'So is many a younger man,' returned the clerk stoutly.
+
+'Sometimes I cannot remember in the morning what I was doing the evening
+before.'
+
+'That's nothing. Nothing at all.'
+
+'Yesterday, I looked at my watch, and found that I had been unconscious
+for three hours.'
+
+'You were asleep. I came in and saw you sound asleep.' It was not true,
+but the clerk's intentions were good.
+
+'To go asleep in the morning argues a certain decay of strength. Yet I
+believe that I get through the work as well as ever. The clients do not
+drop off, Checkley. There are no signs of mistrust--eh? No suspicion of
+failing powers?'
+
+'They think more of you than ever.'
+
+'I believe they do, Checkley.'
+
+'Everybody says you are the top of the profession.'
+
+'I believe I am, Checkley--I believe I am. Certainly, I am the oldest.
+Nevertheless, seventy-five is a great age to be continuing work. Things
+can't last much longer.'
+
+'Some men go on to eighty, and even ninety.'
+
+'A few--a few only.' The lawyer sighed. 'One may hope, but must not
+build upon the chance of such merciful prolongation. The older I grow,
+Checkley, the more I enjoy life, especially the only thing that has ever
+made life happy for me--this work. I cling to it'--he spread his hands
+over the papers--'I cling to it. I cannot bear to think of leaving it.'
+
+'That--and your savings,' echoed the clerk.
+
+'It seems as if I should be content to go on for a hundred years more at
+the work of which I am never tired. And I must leave it before long--in
+a year--two years--who knows? Life is miserably short--one has no time
+for half the things one would like to do. Well'--he heaved a deep
+sigh--'let us work while we can. However, it is better to climb down
+than to be pulled down or shot down. I am going to make preparations,
+Checkley, for the end.'
+
+'What preparations? You're not going to send for a minister, are you?'
+
+'No. Not that kind of preparation. Nor for the doctor either. Nor for a
+lawyer to make my will. All those things are duly attended to. I have
+resolved, Checkley, upon taking a partner.'
+
+'You? Take a partner? You? At your time of life?'
+
+'I am going to take a partner. And you are the first person who has been
+told of my intention. Keep it a secret for the moment.'
+
+'Take a partner? Divide your beautiful income by two?'
+
+'Yes, Checkley. I am going to give a share in that beautiful income to a
+young man.'
+
+'What can a partner do for you that I can't do? Don't I know the whole
+of the office work? Is there any partner in the world who can draw up a
+conveyance better than me?'
+
+'You are very useful, Checkley, as you always have been. But you are not
+a partner, and you never can be.'
+
+'I know that very well. But what's the good of a partner at all?'
+
+'If I have a partner, he will have his own room, and he won't interfere
+with you. There's no occasion for you to be jealous.'
+
+'As for jealous--well--after more than sixty years' work in this office,
+it would seem hard to be turned out by some new-comer. But what I say
+is--what is the good of a partner?'
+
+'The chief good is that the House will be carried on. It is a hundred
+and twenty years old. I confess I do not like the thought of its coming
+to an end when I disappear. That will be to me the most important
+advantage to be gained by taking a partner. The next advantage will be
+that I can turn over to him a quantity of work. And thirdly, he will
+bring young blood and new connections. My mind is quite made up,
+Checkley. I am going to take a partner.'
+
+'Have you found one yet?'
+
+'I have. But I am not going to tell you who he is till the right time
+comes.'
+
+Checkley grumbled inaudibly.
+
+'If I had been less busy,' Mr. Dering went on, 'I might have married and
+had sons of my own to put into the House. But somehow, being very much
+occupied always, and never thinking about such things, I let the time
+pass by. I was never, even as a young man, greatly attracted to love or
+to young women. Their charms, such as they are, seem to me to depend
+upon nothing but a single garment.'
+
+'Take away their frocks,' said Checkley, 'and what are they? All
+alike--all alike. I've been married myself--women are expensive frauds.'
+
+'Well--things being as they are, Checkley, I am going to take a
+partner.'
+
+'You'll do as you like,' said his servant. 'Mark my words, however;
+you've got ten years more of work in you yet--and all through these ten
+years you'll regret having a partner. Out of every hundred pounds his
+share will have to come. Think of that!'
+
+'It is eight years, I remember,' Mr. Dering went on, 'since first I
+thought of taking a partner. Eight years--and for much the same reason
+as now. I found my memory going. There were gaps in it--days, or bits of
+days, which I could not recollect. I was greatly terrified. The man whom
+I first thought of for a partner was that young Arundel, now----'
+
+'Who forged your name. Lucky you didn't have him.'
+
+'Who ran away in a rage because certain circumstances seemed to connect
+him with the crime.'
+
+'Seemed? Did connect him.'
+
+'Then the symptoms disappeared. Now they have returned, as I told you. I
+have always regretted the loss of young Arundel. He was clever and a
+quick worker.'
+
+'He was a forger,' said the clerk stoutly.--'Is there anything more I
+can do for you?'
+
+'Nothing; thank you.'
+
+'Then I'll go. On Saturday afternoon I collect my little rents. Not
+much--in your way of thinking. A good deal to me. I hope you'll like
+your partner when you do get him. I hope I shan't live to see him the
+master here and you knuckling under. I hope I shan't see him driving
+away the clients.'
+
+'I hope you will not see any of these distressing consequences,
+Checkley.--Good-day.'
+
+The old clerk went away, shutting the outer door after him. Then the
+lawyer was the sole occupant of the rooms. He was also the sole occupant
+of the whole house and perhaps of the whole Square. It was three
+o'clock.
+
+He sat leaning back in his chair, looking through the open window upon
+the trees in the Square garden. Presently there fell upon his face a
+curious change. It was as if the whole of the intelligence was taken out
+of it: his eyes gazed steadily into space with no expression whatever in
+them; the lips slightly parted, his head fell back; the soul and spirit
+of the man had gone out of him, leaving a machine which breathed.
+
+The watch in his pocket ticked audibly: there was no other sound in the
+room--the old man sat quite motionless.
+
+Four o'clock struck from the Clock Tower in the High Court of Justice,
+from St. Clement's Church, from Westminster, from half-a-dozen clocks
+which could be heard in the quiet of the Saturday afternoon. But Mr.
+Dering heard nothing.
+
+Still he sat in his place with idle hands, and a face like a mask for
+lack of thought.
+
+The clocks struck five.
+
+He neither moved nor spoke.
+
+The clocks struck six--seven--eight.
+
+The shades of evening began to gather in the corners of the room as the
+sun sank lower towards his setting. At twilight in the summer there is
+never anybody to fear--man, woman, or cat--in the chambers, and at that
+hour the mice come out. They do not eat parchment or foolscap or red
+tape, but they eat the luncheon crumbs. Mr. Checkley, for instance,
+always brought his dinner in a paper parcel in his coat-tail pocket, and
+ate it when so disposed, sprinkling crumbs lavishly--the only lavishment
+of which he was ever guilty--on the floor. Junior clerks brought buns
+and biscuits, or even apples, which they devoured furtively. Mr. Dering
+himself took his luncheon in his own room, leaving crumbs. There was
+plenty for a small colony of mice. They came out, therefore, as usual;
+they stopped at sight of a man, an unwonted man, in a chair. But he
+moved not: he was asleep: he was dead: they ran without fear all about
+the rooms.
+
+It was past nine, when the chambers were as dark as at this season of
+the year they ever are, that Mr. Dering returned to consciousness.
+
+He sat up, staring about him. The room was dark. He looked at his watch.
+Half-past nine. 'What is this?' he asked. 'Have I been asleep for seven
+hours? Seven hours? I was not asleep when Checkley went away. Why did I
+fall asleep? I feel as if I had been somewhere--doing something. What? I
+cannot remember. This strange sensation comes oftener. It is time that I
+should take a partner before something worse happens. I am old--I am
+old.' He rose and walked across the room erect and with firm step. 'I am
+old and worn out and spent. Time to give up the keys--old and spent.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE SELECT CIRCLE
+
+
+At half-past nine on this Saturday evening, the parlour of the
+_Salutation Inn_, High Holborn, contained most of its customary
+visitors. They came every evening at eight: and they sat till eleven,
+drinking and talking. In former days every tavern of repute kept such a
+room for its own select circle, a club, or society, of _habitués_, who
+met every evening, for a pipe and a cheerful glass. In this way all
+respectable burgesses, down to fifty years ago, spent their evenings.
+Strangers might enter the room, but they were made to feel that they
+were there on sufferance: they were received with distance and
+suspicion. Most of the regular visitors knew each other: when thy did
+not, it was tavern politeness not to ask; a case is on record of four
+cronies, who used the _Cock_ in Meet Street for thirty years, not one
+knowing either the name or the trade of the other three. Yet when one
+died, the other three pined away. This good old custom is now decayed.
+The respectable burgess stays at home, which is much more monotonous.
+Yet there may still be found a parlour here and there with a society
+meeting every evening all the year round.
+
+The parlour of the _Salutation_ was a good-sized room wainscoted and
+provided with a sanded floor. It was furnished with a dozen wooden
+chairs, and three small round tables, the chairs disposed in a circle so
+as to prevent corners or cliques in conversation. Sacred is the
+fraternity, liberty, and equality of the parlour. The room was low, and,
+in the evenings, always hot with its two flaming unprotected gas jets;
+the window was never opened except in the morning, and there was always
+present a rich perfume of tobacco, beer, and spirits, both that
+anciently generated and that of the day's creation.
+
+Among the frequenters,--who were, it must be confessed, a somewhat faded
+or decayed company--was, to put him first because he was the richest the
+great Mr. Robert Hellyer, of Barnard's Inn, usurer or money-lender.
+Nobody quite likes the profession--one knows not why. Great fortunes
+have been made in it; the same fortunes have been dissipated by the
+money-lenders' heirs. Such fortunes do not stick, somehow. Mr. Hellyer,
+for instance, was reputed wealthy beyond the dreams of the wildest
+desire. It was also said of him, under breath and in whispers and
+envious murmurs, that should a man borrow a five-pound note of him, that
+borrower would count himself lucky if he escaped with the loss of
+seventy-five pounds; and might generally expect to lose the whole of his
+household furniture, and the half of his income, for the rest of his
+natural life. To be sure, he sometimes had losses, as he said himself,
+with a groan; as when an unscrupulous client jumped off the Embankment,
+when he had not paid more than fifty pounds on the original five; or
+when a wicked man sold off his furniture secretly, in contempt of the
+bill of sale, and got clean out of the country with his wife and
+children. But on the whole he did pretty well. It was further said, by
+old clients, that his heart was a simple piece of round granite, for
+which he had no use, and that he made money out of it by letting it out
+at so much an hour for a paving mallet.
+
+Mr. Robert Hellyer was not a genial man, or a cheerful or a pleasant man
+to look upon; he neither loved nor comprehended a jest; he never smiled;
+he kept his mind always employed on the conduct of his business. Every
+night--forgive the solitary weakness--he drank as much as he could
+carry. In appearance, he was red-faced, thick-necked, and stout; his
+voice was thick even in the morning, when he was under no compulsion to
+thickness; it was believed by his friends that his education had been
+imperfect; perhaps because he never gave anybody reason to suppose that
+he had ever received any education at all. To such men as Mr. Hellyer,
+who every night take much strong drink, and on no occasion whatever take
+any exercise, sixty is the grand climacteric. He was, a year ago, just
+fifty-nine. Alas! he has not even reached his grand climacteric. Already
+he is gone. He was cut off by pneumonia, or apoplexy, last Christmas.
+Those who saw the melancholy _cortège_ filing out of the narrow gates of
+Barnard's Inn, mournfully remarked that none of his money was taken with
+him, and asked what happiness he could possibly find in the next world,
+which he would begin with nothing--nothing at all--not even credit--an
+absolute pauper.
+
+Mr. Robert Hellyer sat on one side of the empty fireplace. On the
+opposite side, a great contrast to his coarse and vulgar race, sat an
+elderly man, tall, thin, dressed in a coat whose sleeves were worn to
+shininess. His face was dejected: his features were still fine: he was
+evidently a gentleman. This person was a barrister, decayed and
+unsuccessful; he lived in a garret in Gray's Inn. There are a good many
+wrecks at the Bar, but few quite so forlorn as this poor old man. He
+still professed to practise, and picked up a guinea now and then by
+defending criminals. On these casual fees he managed to live. His
+clothes were threadbare; it was many years since he had had a greatcoat;
+on rainy and cold days he had a thin cape which he wore over his
+shoulders. Heaven knows how he dined and breakfasted; every evening,
+except in the hot days of summer, he came to this place for light and
+warmth. Unless he was very poor indeed, he called for a pint of old and
+mild and read the day's paper. Sometimes he talked, but not often;
+sometimes one or other of the company would offer him a more costly
+drink, which he always accepted with all that was left to him of
+courtesy. Outside, he had no friends; they had all forgotten him or
+died--it is very easy for a poor man to be forgotten; he had no
+relations; they had all died, emigrated, and dispersed; the relations of
+the unsuccessful are easily lost. When he talked, he sometimes became
+animated, and would tell anecdotes of the Bar and of the time when he
+was called, nearly fifty years agone, by the Benchers of Gray's Inn.
+What had become of the hopes and ambitions with which that young man
+entered upon the profession, which was to lead him to the parlour of the
+_Salutation_ and the company that gathered there--and to the bare and
+miserable garret of Gray's Inn, forgotten and alone?
+
+Another man, also elderly, who sat next to the barrister, was a
+gentleman who sold an excellent business and retired, in order to betake
+himself more completely to toping. He drank in three taverns during the
+day. One was in Fleet Street, where he took his chop at three; one was
+near Drury Lane Theatre, where he dallied with a little whisky from five
+to nine; and this was the third. He was a quiet, happy, self-respecting,
+dignified old man. In the evening, he spoke not at all--for sufficient
+reasons; but he benevolently inclined his head if he was addressed.
+
+Next to him sat a younger man, a solicitor, whose practice consisted in
+defending prisoners in the Police Courts. He had with him two friends,
+and he had a confident swagger, which passed for ability. Next to him
+and his friends was a house agent, who had been a member for an Irish
+borough: and there was a gentleman, whose wife sang in music halls, so
+that this fortunate person could--and did--sit about in taverns all day
+long. His appearance was that of a deboshed City clerk, as he was. Not
+to mention other members of the company, Checkley was there, occupying a
+chair next to the money-lender.
+
+Here he was called Mr. Checkley. He came every evening at nine o'clock,
+Sundays included. Like the money-lender, he wanted his little
+distractions, and took them in this way. Here, too, he was among those
+who respected him, not so much on account of his public and private
+virtues, or for his eminence in the law, as his money. It is not often
+that a solicitor's clerk becomes a 'warm' man, but then it is not often
+that one of the calling deliberately proposes to himself early in life
+to save money, and lives till seventy-five steadily carrying out his
+object. If you are good at figures, you will understand how Mr. Checkley
+succeeded. Between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five he had an income
+which averaged about seventy-five pounds. He lived upon fifty pounds a
+year. From twenty-five to thirty-five he made an average of one hundred
+and fifty pounds: he still lived upon fifty pounds a year. At
+thirty-five he was induced by prudential considerations to marry: the
+lady, considerably his senior, had a thousand pounds. She was even more
+miserly than himself, and in a year or so after marriage, she fell into
+a decline, owing to insufficient nourishment, and presently expired. On
+the whole he calculated that he was the better man for the marriage by a
+thousand pounds. From thirty-five to forty-five his income rose to two
+hundred pounds: it then for twenty-five years stood at three hundred
+pounds a year; at the age of seventy Mr. Dering gave him four hundred
+pounds. Therefore, to sum up, he had put by out of his pay the sum of
+11,675_l_.--and this without counting the compound interest always
+mounting up from his investments, which were all of a careful kind such
+as he understood: tenement houses, of which he had a good number: shares
+in building societies: money lent on bills of sale or on mortgage. At
+home--Mr. Checkley lived on the ground floor of one of his own
+houses--he grew more miserly as he grew older. The standard of luxury is
+not high when fifty pounds a year covers all; but of late he had been
+trying to keep below even that humble amount. He conducted his affairs
+in the evening between his office hours and nine at his own house, or
+among the people where his property lay. It was in the district, visited
+by few, lying east of Gray's Inn Road: his own house was in a certain
+small square, a good half of the houses in which belonged to him.
+
+At nine o'clock he arrived at the tavern. Here his drinks cost him
+nothing. A custom had grown up in the course of years for the
+money-lender to consult him on the many difficult points which arise in
+the practice of his profession. He was one of those who like to have one
+foot over the wall erected by the law, but not both. In other words, he
+was always trying to find out how far the law would allow him to go, and
+where it called upon him to stop. With this view he schemed perpetually
+to make his clients sign bonds under the delusion that they meant a
+hundredth part of what they really did mean. And as, like all ignorant
+men, he had the most profound belief in the power and the knowledge and
+the chicanery of lawyers, he was pleased to obtain Checkley's advice in
+return for Checkley's drinks.
+
+It was a full gathering. The old clerk arrived late: he was gratified at
+hearing the ex-M.P. whispering to his friends that the new arrival was
+worth his twenty thousand pounds if a penny. He swelled with honourable
+pride. Yes. Twenty thousand pounds! And more--more. Who would have
+thought, when he began as an office boy, that he could ever achieve so
+much?
+
+The money-lender, bursting with a new case, real or supposed, took his
+pipe out of his mouth and communicated it in a hoarse whisper.
+
+'Suppose----' it began.
+
+'Then'--Checkley replied when the case was finished--'you would lay
+yourself open to a criminal prosecution. Don't you go so much as to
+think of it. There was a case twenty-five years ago exactly like it. The
+remarks of the judge were most severe, and the sentence was heavy.'
+
+'Ah!' The usurer's red face grew redder. 'Then it can't be thought of.
+Pity, too. There's a houseful of furniture and a shopful of stuff. And
+a young man as it would do good to him just to start fair again.
+Pity.--Put a name to it, Mr. Checkley.'
+
+'Rum. Hot. With lemon,' replied the sage. 'You get more taste in your
+mouth, more upliftin' for your heart, as they say, more strengthenin'
+for the stomach, better value all round for your money out of rum than
+any other drink that I know.'
+
+At this point, and before the waiter could execute the order, voices and
+steps were heard outside the room. The voices of two men. That of one
+loud, eager, noisy. That of the other quiet, measured, and calm.
+
+Checkley sat upright suddenly and listened.
+
+'That is young Cambridge,' said the old barrister. 'I thought he would
+be here--Saturday night and all.' He smiled, as if expectant of
+something, and drank off the rest of his beer at a draught.
+
+'Most distinguished Cambridge man,' whispered the ex-M.P. to his
+friends. 'Wanst a Fellow of Cambridge College. Great scholar. Ornament
+to any circle. Dhrinks likes an oyster. Son of a Bishop too--Son of an
+Irish Bishop--Talks Greek like English. He'll come in directly. He's
+taking something outside. He's always half dhrunk to begin, and quite
+dhrunk to finish. But he only talks the better--being Oirish. Most
+remarkable man.'
+
+The voice of this distinguished person Checkley knew. But the other
+voice? That he knew as well. And he could not remember whose voice it
+was. Very well indeed he remembered the sound of it. Some men never
+forget a face: some men never forget a shape or figure: some men never
+forget a voice: some men never forget a handwriting. A voice is the
+simplest thing, after all, to remember, and the most unchanging. From
+eighteen till eighty a man's voice changes not, save that in volume it
+decreases during the last decade: the distinguishing quality of the
+voice remains the same to the end.
+
+'Have a drink, my dear fellow.' That was the voice of the Pride of
+Cambridge.
+
+'Thanks. I don't want a drink.'
+
+Whose voice was it? Checkley sat up eager for the door to be opened, and
+that doubt to be resolved.
+
+It was opened. The two men came in first, the Cambridge man leading the
+way. He was a good-looking, smooth-faced man of thirty-two or so, with
+bright blue eyes--too bright--a fine face, full of delicacy and
+mobility, a high, narrow forehead, and quick sensitive lips; a man who
+was obviously in want of some one to take him in hand and control him:
+one of those men who have no will of their own, and fall naturally
+before any temptation which assails them. The chief temptation which
+assailed Freddy Carstone--it seems to stamp the man that his friends all
+called him Freddy--a Freddy is amiable, weak, beloved, and given to err,
+slip, fall, and give way--was the temptation to drink. He was really, as
+the ex-M.P. told his friends, a very fine scholar: he had been a Fellow
+of his college, but never received any appointment or office of Lecturer
+there on account of this weakness of his, which was notorious. When his
+Fellowship expired, he came to London, lived in Gray's Inn, and took
+pupils. He had the reputation of being an excellent coach if he could be
+caught sober. He was generally sober in the morning; often a little
+elevated in the afternoon; and always cheerfully--not stupidly--drunk at
+night.
+
+'You must have a drink,' Freddy repeated. 'Not want a drink? Hang it,
+old man, it isn't what you want, it's what you like. If I only took what
+I wanted, I should be--what should I be? Fellow and Tutor of the
+college--very likely Master--most probably Archdeacon--certainly Bishop.
+Wasn't my father a Bishop? Now, if you take what you like, as well as
+what you want--what happens? You go easily and comfortably down
+hill--down--down--down--like me. Tobogganing isn't easier: the
+switchback railway isn't more pleasant. Always take what you like.'
+
+'No--no, Freddy; thanks.'
+
+'What? You've got ambitions still? You want to be climbing? Man alive!
+it's too late. You've stayed away from your friends too long. You can't
+get up. Better join us at the _Salutation_ Club. Come in with me. I'll
+introduce you. They'll be glad to have you. Intellectual conversation
+carried on nightly. Romantic scenery from the back window. Finest
+parlour in London. Come in and sample the Scotch.--Not want a drink? Who
+ever saw a man who didn't want a drink?'
+
+The other man followed, reluctantly--and at sight of him Checkley jumped
+in his chair. Then he snatched the paper from the hands of the ancient
+barrister, and buried his head in it. The action was most remarkable and
+unmistakable. He hid himself behind the paper; for the man whom the
+Cambridge scholar was dragging into the room was none other than
+Athelstan Arundel--the very man of whom Mr. Dering had been speaking
+that very afternoon: the very man whose loss he had been regretting: the
+man accused by himself of forgery. So great was his terror at the sight
+of this man that he was fain to hide behind the paper.
+
+Yes: the same man: well dressed, apparently, and prosperous--in a velvet
+jacket and a white waistcoat, with a big brown beard--still carrying
+himself with that old insolent pride, as if he had never forged
+anything: looking not a day older, in spite of the eight years that had
+elapsed. What was he doing here?
+
+'Come in, man,' said Freddy again. 'You shall have one drink at least,
+and as many more as you like.--Robert, two Scotch and soda. We haven't
+met for eight long years. Let us sit down and confess our sins for eight
+years. Where have you been?'
+
+'For the most part--abroad.'
+
+'You don't look it. He who goes abroad to make his fortune always comes
+home in rags, with a pistol in his coat-tail, and a bowie-knife in his
+belt. At least we are taught so. You wear velvet and fine linen. You
+haven't been abroad. I don't believe you've been farther than
+Camberwell. In fact, Camberwell has been your headquarters. You've been
+living in Camberwell--on Camberwell Green, which is a slice of Eden,
+with--perhaps--didn't pretty Polly Perkins live on Camberwell
+Green?--for eight long years.'
+
+'Let me call upon you in your lodgings, where we can talk.
+
+'I haven't got any lodgings. I am in Chambers--I live all by myself in
+Gray's Inn. Come and see me. I am always at home in the mornings--to
+pupils only--and generally at home in the afternoon to pupils and topers
+and Lushingtons. Here's your whisky. Sit down. Let me introduce you to
+the company. This is a highly intellectual society--not what you would
+expect of a Holborn Parlour. It is a club which meets here every
+evening--a first-class club. Subscription, nothing. Entrance fee,
+nothing. Order what you like. Don't pretend not to know your
+brother-members.--Gentlemen, this is my old friend, Mr. Athelstan
+Arundel, who has been abroad--on Camberwell Green--for the sake of Polly
+Perkins--for eight years, and has now returned.'
+
+The ex-M.P. nudged his friends to call their attention to something
+good. The rest received the introduction and the remarks which followed
+in silence.
+
+'Arundel, the gentleman by the fireplace, he with the pipe--is our
+Shylock, sometimes called the Lord Shylock.' The money-lender looked up
+with a dull and unintelligent eye: I believe the allusion was entirely
+above his comprehension.--'Beside him is Mr. Vulpes--he with his head
+buried in the paper--you'll see him presently. Mr. Vulpes is advanced in
+years, but well preserved, and knows every letter of the law: he is,
+indeed, an ornament of the lower branch. Vulpes will let you a house--he
+has many most charming residences--or will advance you money on
+mortgage. He knows the law of landlord and tenant, and the law regarding
+Bills of Sale. I recommend Vulpes to your friendly consideration.--Here
+is Senex Bibulus Benevolens.'--The old gentleman kindly inclined his
+head, being too far gone for speech.--'Here is a most learned counsel,
+who ought, had merit prevailed, to have been by this time Lord
+Chancellor, Chief Justice, Judge or Master of the Rolls, or Queen's
+Counsel at least. So far he is still a Junior, but we hope for his
+speedy advancement.--Sir, I entreat the honour of offering you a goblet
+of more generous drink.--Robert, Irish whisky and a lemon for this
+gentleman.--There'--he pointed to the ex-M.P., who again nudged his
+friends and grinned--'is our legislator and statesman, the pride of his
+constituents, the darling of Ballynacuddery till they turned him
+out.--There'--he pointed to the deboshed clerk--'is a member of a great
+modern profession, a gentleman with whom it is indeed a pride to sit
+down. He is Monsieur le Mari: Monsieur le Mari complaisant et content.'
+
+'I don't know what you mean,' said the gentleman indicated. 'If you want
+to talk Greek, talk it outside.'
+
+'I cannot stay,' said Athelstan, looking about the room with scant
+respect. 'I will call upon you at your Chambers.'
+
+'Do--do, my dear fellow.' Athelstan shook hands and walked away. 'Now,
+there's a man, gentlemen, who might have done anything--anything he
+might have done. Rowed stroke to his boat. Threw up everything eight
+years ago and went away--nobody knew why. Sad to see so much promise
+wasted. Sad--sad. He hasn't even touched his drink. Then I
+must--myself.' And he did.
+
+Observe that there is no such lamentation over the failure of a
+promising young man as from one who has also failed. For, by a merciful
+arrangement, the failure seldom suspects himself of having failed.
+
+'Now, Mr. Checkley,' said the barrister, 'he's gone away and you needn't
+hide yourself any longer--and you can let me have my paper again.'
+
+Mr. Checkley spoke no more that evening. He drank up his rum-and-water,
+and he went away mightily perturbed. That Athelstan Arundel had come
+back portended that something would happen. And like King Cole's
+prophet, he could not foretell the nature of the event.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+A REBELLIOUS CHILD
+
+
+Elsie left her lover at the door. Most accepted suitors accompany their
+sweethearts into the very bosom of the family--the gynæceum--the
+parlour, as it used to be called. Not so George Austin. Since the
+engagement--the deplorable engagement--it was understood that he was not
+to presume upon entering the house. Romeo might as well have sent in his
+card to Juliet's mamma. In fact, that lady could not possibly regard the
+pretensions of Romeo more unfavourably than Mrs. Arundel did those of
+George Austin. This not on account of any family inequality, for his
+people were no more decidedly of the middle class than her own. That is
+to say, they numbered as many members who were presentable and quite as
+many who were not. Our great middle class is pretty well alike in this
+respect. In every household there are things which may be paraded and
+things _tacenda_: members unsuccessful, members disgraceful. All the
+world knows all the things which must be concealed: we all know that all
+the world knows them; but still we pretend that there are no such
+things, and so we maintain the family dignity. Nor could the widow
+object to George on account of his religious opinions, in which he
+dutifully followed his forefathers; or of his abilities, manners,
+morals, culture, accomplishments, or outward appearance, in all of which
+he was everything that could be expected of a young man who had his own
+fortune to make. A rich young man has no need of manners, morals,
+abilities, or accomplishments: a thing too often forgotten by satirists
+when they depict the children of Sir Midas Georgias and his tribe. The
+lady's objection was simply and most naturally that the young man had
+nothing and would probably never have anything: that he was a managing
+clerk without money to buy a partnership in a highly congested
+profession. To aggravate this objection, he stood in the way of two most
+desirable suitors who were supposed to be ready should Elsie give them
+any encouragement. They were a rich old man whose morals could no longer
+be questioned; and a rich young man whose morals would doubtless improve
+with marriage--if, that is, they wanted improvement, for on this
+delicate subject ladies find it difficult to get reliable information.
+And, again, the exalted position of the elder sister should have been an
+example and a beacon. Which of you, Mesdames, would look on with
+patience at such a sacrifice--a young and lovely daughter thrown away,
+with all her charms and all her chances, upon a man with two hundred
+pounds a year and no chance of anything much better? Think of it--two
+hundred pounds a year--for a gentlewoman!
+
+There are some families--many families--with whom the worship of wealth
+is hereditary. The Arundels have been City people, married with other
+City people--in trade--for two hundred years and more: they are all
+members of City Companies: there have been Lord Mayors and Sheriffs
+among them: some of them--for they are now a clan--are rich: some are
+very rich; one or two are very, very rich: those who fail and go
+bankrupt quickly drop out of sight. All their traditions are of
+money-getting: they estimate success and worth and respect by the amount
+a man leaves behind--it is the good old tradition: they talk of money:
+they are not vulgar or loud or noisy or disagreeable in any way: but
+they openly and without disguise worship the great god Plutus and
+believe that he, and none other, is the God of the Christians. They have
+as much culture as other people, at least to outward show: they furnish
+their houses as artistically as other people: they buy pictures and
+books: but ideas do not touch them: if they read new ideas, they are not
+affected by them, however skilfully they may be put: they go to Church
+and hear the parable about Dives and they wonder how Dives could have
+been so hard-hearted. Then they go home and talk about money.
+
+Elsie's father, a younger son of the richest branch of this family,
+started with a comfortable little fortune and a junior partnership. He
+was getting on very well indeed: he had begun to show the stuff of which
+he was made, a good, stout, tenacious kind of stuff, likely to last and
+to hold out; he was beginning to increase his fortune: he looked forward
+to a successful career: and he hoped to leave behind him, after many,
+many years, perhaps three-quarters of a million. He was only thirty-five
+years of age, yet he was struck down and had to go. His widow received
+little more than her husband's original fortune: it was small compared
+with what she might fairly have expected when she married, but it was
+large enough for her to live with her three children in Pembridge
+Gardens. What happened to the son, you know. He went away in a royal
+rage and had never been heard of since. The elder daughter, Hilda, when
+about two-and-twenty, as you also know, had the good fortune to attract
+the admiration of a widower of very considerable wealth, the brother of
+her guardian. He was forty years older than herself, but he was
+rich--nay, very rich indeed. Jute, I believe, on an extensive scale, was
+the cause of his great fortune. He was knighted on a certain great
+occasion when Warden of his Company, so that he offered his bride a
+title and precedence, as well as a great income, a mansion in Palace
+Gardens, a handsome settlement, carriages and horses, and everything
+else that the feminine heart can desire.
+
+The widow, soon after her husband died, found the time extremely dull
+without the daily excitement of the City talk to which she had been
+accustomed. There was no one with whom she could discuss the money
+market. Now, all her life, she had been accustomed to talk of shares and
+stocks and investments and fluctuations and operations and buying in and
+selling out. She began, therefore, to watch the market on her own
+account. Then she began to operate: then she gave her whole time and all
+her thoughts to the business of studying, watching, reading, and
+forecasting. Of course, then, she lost her money and fell into
+difficulties. Nothing of the kind: she made money. There is always
+plenty of virtuous indignation ready for those foolish persons who
+dabble in stocks. They are gamblers; they always lose in the long run:
+we all know that; the copy-books tell us so. If two persons play heads
+and tails for sovereigns, do they both lose in the long run? If so, who
+wins? Where does the money go? Even a gambler need not always lose in
+the long run, as all gamblers know. _La veuve_ Arundel was not in any
+sense a gambler. Nor was she a dabbler. She was a serious and
+calculating operator. She took up one branch of the great money market
+and confined her attentions to that branch, which she studied with so
+much care and assiduity that she became a professional; that is to say,
+she threw into the study all her energies, all her thoughts, and all her
+intellect. When a young man does this on the Stock Exchange he may
+expect to win. Mrs. Arundel was not an ordinary young man; she was a
+sharp and clever woman: by hard work she had learned all that can be
+learned, and had acquired some of that prescience which comes of
+knowledge--the prophet of the future is, after all, he who knows and can
+discuss the forces and the facts of the present: the Sibyl at the
+present day would be a journalist. She was clear-headed, quick to see
+and ready to act: she was of a quick temper as well as a quick
+perception: and she was resolute. Such qualities in most women make them
+absolute sovereigns in the household. Mrs. Arundel was not an absolute
+sovereign--partly because she thought little of her household, and
+partly because her children were distinguished by much the same
+qualities, and their subjection would have proved difficult if not
+impossible.
+
+This was the last house in London where one might have expected to find
+a girl who was ready to despise wealth and to find her happiness in a
+condition of poverty. Elsie was completely out of harmony with all her
+own people. There is a good deal of opinion going about in favour of the
+simple life: many girls have become socialists in so far as they think
+the amassing of wealth neither desirable nor worthy of respect: many
+would rather marry a man of limited means who has a profession than a
+rich man who has a business: many girls hold that Art is a much finer
+thing than wealth. Elsie learned these pernicious sentiments at school:
+they attracted her at first because they were so fresh: she found all
+the best literature full of these sentiments: she developed in due
+course a certain natural ability for art: she attended an art school:
+she set up an easel: she painted in pastel: she called her room a
+studio. She gave her friends the greatest uneasiness by her opinions:
+she ended, as you have seen, by becoming engaged to a young man with
+nothing. How could such a girl be born of such parents?
+
+When she got home on Saturday evening she found her mother playing a
+game of double _vingt un_ with a certain cousin, one Sydney Arundel. The
+game is very good for the rapid interchange of coins: you should make it
+a time game, to end in half an hour--one hour--two hours, and at the end
+you will find that you have had a very pretty little gamble. Mrs.
+Arundel liked nothing better than a game of cards--provided the stakes
+were high enough to give it excitement. To play cards for love is indeed
+insipid: it is like a dinner of cold boiled mutton or like sandwiches of
+veal. The lady would play anything, piquet, écarté, double dummy--and
+her daughter Elsie hated the sight of cards. As for the cousin, he was
+on the Stock Exchange: he came often to dinner and to talk business
+after dinner. He was a kind of musical box or barrel organ in
+conversation, because he could only play one tune. His business as well
+as his pleasure was in the money market.
+
+'So you have come home, Elsie?' said Mrs. Arundel coldly.
+
+'Yes, I have come home.' Elsie seated herself at the window and waited.
+
+'Now, Sydney'--her mother took up the cards. 'My deal--will you take any
+more?'
+
+She was a good-looking woman still, though past fifty: her abundant hair
+had gone pleasantly gray, her features were fine, her brown eyes were
+quick and bright: her lips were firm, and her chin straight. She was
+tall and of good figure: she was clad in black silk, with a large gold
+chain about her neck and good lace upon her shoulders. She wore many
+rings and a bracelet. She liked, in fact, the appearance of wealth as
+well as the possession of it: she therefore always appeared in costly
+raiment: her house was furnished with a costly solidity: everything,
+even the bindings of her books, was good to look at: her one man-servant
+looked like the responsible butler of a millionaire, and her one-horse
+carriage looked as if it belonged to a dozen.
+
+The game went on. Presently, the clock struck ten. 'Time,' said the
+lady. 'We must stop. Now then. Let us see--I make it seventy-three
+shillings.--Thank you. Three pounds thirteen--an evening not altogether
+wasted.--And now, Sydney, light your cigar. You know I like it. You
+shall have your whisky and soda--and we will talk business. There are
+half-a-dozen things that I want to consult you about. Heavens! why
+cannot I be admitted to the Exchange? A few women among you--clever
+women, like myself, Sydney--would wake you up.'
+
+They talked business for an hour, the lady making notes in a little
+book, asking questions and making suggestions. At last the cousin got
+up--it was eleven o'clock--and went away. Then her mother turned to
+Elsie.
+
+'It is a great pity,' she said, 'that you take no interest in these
+things.'
+
+'I dislike them very much, as you know,' said Elsie.
+
+'Yes--you dislike them because they are of real importance. Well--never
+mind.--You have been out with the young man, I suppose?'
+
+'Yes--we have been on the river together.'
+
+'I supposed it was something of the kind. So the housemaid keeps company
+with the potboy without consulting her own people.'
+
+'It is nothing unusual for me to spend an evening with George. Why not?
+You will not suffer me to bring him here.'
+
+'No,' said her mother with firmness. 'That young man shall never, under
+any circumstances, enter this house with my knowledge! For the rest,'
+she added, 'do as you please.'
+
+This was the kind of amiable conversation that had been going on day
+after day since Elsie's engagement--protestations of ceasing to
+interfere, and continual interference.
+
+There are many ways of considering the subject of injudicious and
+unequal marriages. You may ridicule: you may cajole: you may argue: you
+may scold: you may coax: you may represent the naked truth as it is, or
+you may clothe its limbs with lies--the lies are of woven stuff, strong,
+and home-made. When you have an obdurate, obstinate, contumacious,
+headstrong, wilful, self-contained maiden to deal with, you will waste
+your breath whatever you do. The mother treated Elsie with scorn, and
+scorn alone. It was her only weapon. Her elder sister tried other
+weapons: she laughed at the makeshifts of poverty: she cajoled with
+soft flattery and golden promises: she argued with logic pitiless: she
+scolded like a fishwife: she coaxed with tears and kisses: she painted
+the loveliness of men who are rich, and the power of women who are
+beautiful. And all in vain. Nothing moved this obdurate, obstinate,
+contumacious, headstrong, wilful Elsie. She would stick to her promise:
+she would wed her lover even if she had to entertain Poverty as well all
+her life.
+
+'Are you so infatuated,' the mother went on, 'that you cannot see that
+he cares nothing for your happiness? He thinks about nobody but himself.
+If he thought of you, he would see that he was too poor to make you
+happy, and he would break it off. As it is, all he wants is to marry
+you.'
+
+'That is indeed all. He has never disguised the fact.'
+
+'He offers you the half of a bare crust.'
+
+'By halving the crust we shall double it.'
+
+'Oh! I have no patience. But there is an end. You know my opinion, and
+you disregard it. I cannot lock you up, or beat you, for your
+foolishness. I almost wish I could. I will neither reason with you any
+more nor try to dissuade you. Go your own way.'
+
+'If you would only understand. We are going to live very simply. We
+shall put all unhappiness outside the luxuries of life. And we shall get
+on if we never get rich. I wish I could make you understand our point of
+view. It makes me very unhappy that you will take such a distorted
+view.'
+
+'I am glad that you can still feel unhappiness at such a cause as my
+displeasure.'
+
+'Well, mother, to-night we have come to a final decision.'
+
+'Am I to learn it?'
+
+'Yes; I wish to tell you at once. We have been engaged for two years.
+The engagement has brought me nothing but wretchedness at home. But I
+should be still more wretched--I should be wretched all my life--if I
+were to break it off. I shall be of age in a day or two and free to act
+on my own judgment.'
+
+'You are acting on your own judgment already.'
+
+'I have promised George that I will marry him when he pleases--that is,
+about the middle of August, when he gets his holiday.'
+
+'Oh! The misery of poverty will begin so soon? I am sorry to hear it. As
+I said above, I have nothing to say against it--no persuasion or
+dissuasion--you will do as you please.'
+
+'George has his profession, and he has a good name already. He will get
+on. Meantime, a little plain living will hurt neither of us. Can't you
+think that we may begin in a humble way and yet get on?
+Money--money--money. Oh! Must we think of nothing else?'
+
+'What is there to think of but money? Look round you, silly child. What
+gives me this house--this furniture--everything? Money. What feeds you
+and clothes you? Money. What gives position, consideration, power,
+dignity? Money. Rank without money is contemptible. Life without money
+is miserable, wretched, intolerable. Who would care to live when the
+smallest luxury--the least comfort--has to be denied for want of money.
+Even the Art of which you talk so much only becomes respectable when it
+commands money. You cannot keep off disease without money; you cannot
+educate your children without money: it will be your worst punishment in
+the future that your children will sink and become servants. Child!' she
+cried passionately, 'we must be masters or servants--nay--lords or
+slaves. You leave the rank of lord and marry the rank of slave. It is
+money that makes the difference--money--money--money--that you pretend
+to despise. It is money that has done everything for you. Your
+grandfather made it--your father made it--I am making it. Go on in your
+madness and your folly. In the end, when it is too late, you will long
+for money, pray for money, be ready to do anything for money--for your
+husband and your children.'
+
+'We shall have, I hope, enough. We shall work for enough--no more.'
+
+'Well, child,' her mother returned quietly, 'I said that I would say
+nothing. I have been carried away. Let there be no more said. Do as you
+please. You know my mind--your sister's mind--your cousins'----'
+
+'I do not wish to be guided by my cousins.'
+
+'Very well. You will stay here until your wedding day. When you marry
+you will leave this house--and me and your sister and all your people.
+Do not expect any help from me. Do not look forward to any inheritance
+from me. My money is all my own to deal with as I please. If you wish
+to be poor you shall be poor. Hilda tells me that you are to see your
+guardian on Monday. Perhaps he may bring you to your senses. As for
+me--I shall say no more.'
+
+With these final words the lady left the room and went to bed. How many
+times had she declared that she would say no more?
+
+The next day being Sunday, the bells began to ring in the morning, and
+the two ladies sallied forth to attend Divine service as usual. They
+walked side by side, in silence. That sweet and gracious nymph, the Lady
+Charity, was not with them in their pew. The elder lady, externally
+cold, was full of resentment and bitterness: the younger was more than
+usually troubled by the outbreak of the evening. Yet, she was no nearer
+surrender. The sermon, by a curious coincidence, turned upon the
+perishable nature of earthly treasures, and the vanity of the objects
+desired by that unreasoning person whom they used to call the Worldling.
+The name has perished, but the creature still exists, and is found in
+countless herds in every great town. The parsons are always trying to
+shoot him down; but they never succeed. There was just a fiery passage
+or two directed against the species. Elsie hoped that the words would go
+home. Not at all. They fell upon her mother's heart like seed upon the
+rock. She heard them, but heard them not. The Worldling, you see, never
+understands that he is a Worldling. Nor does Dives believe himself to be
+anything more than Lazarus, such is his modesty.
+
+The service over, they went home in silence. They took their early
+dinner in silence, waited on by the solemn man-servant. After dinner,
+Elsie sought the solitude of her studio. And here--nobody looking
+on--she obeyed the first law of her sex, and had a good cry. Even the
+most resolute of maidens cannot carry through a great scheme against
+great opposition without the consolation of a cry.
+
+On the table lay a note from Mr. Dering:
+
+     'MY DEAR WARD--I am reminded that you come of age on Monday.
+     I am also reminded by Hilda that you propose to take a very
+     important step against the wish of your mother. Will you
+     come and see me at ten o'clock to talk this over?--Your
+     affectionate Guardian.'
+
+Not much hope to be got out of that letter. A dry note from a dry man.
+Very little doubt as to the line which he would take. Yet, not an unkind
+letter. She put it back in her desk and sighed. Another long discussion.
+No: she would not discuss--she would listen, and then state her
+intention. She would listen again, and once more state her intention.
+
+On the easel stood an almost finished portrait in pastel, executed from
+a photograph. It was the portrait of her guardian. She had caught--it
+was not difficult with a face so marked--the set expression, the closed
+lips, the keen eyes, and the habitual look of caution and watchfulness
+which become the characteristics of a solicitor in good practice. So far
+it was a good likeness. But it was an austere face. Elsie, with a few
+touches of her thumb and the chalk which formed her material, softened
+the lines of the mouth, communicated to the eyes a more genial light,
+and to the face an expression of benevolence which certainly had never
+before been seen upon it.
+
+'There!' she said. 'If you would only look like that to-morrow, instead
+of like your photograph, I should have no fear at all of what you would
+say. I would flatter you, and coax you, and cajole you, till you had
+doubled George's salary and promised to get round my mother. You dear
+old man! You kind old man! You sweet old man! I could kiss you for your
+kindness.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+SOMETHING HAPPENS
+
+
+So far a truly enjoyable Sunday. To sit in church beside her angry
+mother, both going through the forms of repentance, charity, and
+forgiveness: and to dine together, going through the ordinary forms of
+kindliness while one at least was devoured with wrath. Waste of good
+roast lamb and gooseberry tart!
+
+Elsie spent the afternoon in her studio, where she sat undisturbed.
+People called, but her mother received them. Now that the last
+resolution had been taken: now that she had promised her lover to brave
+everything and to live the simplest possible life for love's sweet sake,
+she felt that sinking which falls upon the most courageous when the
+boats are burned. Thus Love makes loving hearts to suffer.
+
+The evening, however, made amends. For then, like the housemaid, who
+mounted the area stair as Elsie went down the front-door steps, she went
+forth to meet her lover, and in his company forgot all her fears. They
+went to church together. There they sat side by side, this church not
+having adopted the barbarous custom of separating the sexes--a custom
+which belongs to the time when women were monkishly considered unclean
+creatures, and the cause, to most men, of everlasting suffering, which
+they themselves would most justly share. This couple sat hand in hand;
+the service was full of praise and hope and trust: the Psalms were
+exultant, triumphant, jubilant: the sermon was a ten minutes'
+ejaculation of joy and thanks: there was a Procession with banners, to
+cheer up the hearts of the faithful--what is Faith without a Procession?
+Comfort stole back to Elsie's troubled heart: she felt less like an
+outcast: she came out of the church with renewed confidence.
+
+It was still daylight. They walked round and round the nearest square.
+Jane the housemaid and her young man were doing the same thing. They
+talked with confidence and joy of the future before them. Presently the
+rain began to fall, and Elsie's spirits fell too.
+
+'George,' she said, 'are we selfish, each of us? Is it right for me to
+drag and keep you down?'
+
+'You will not. You will raise me and keep me up. Never doubt that,
+Elsie. I am the selfish one because I make you sacrifice so much.'
+
+'Oh! no--no. It is no sacrifice for me. You must make me brave, George,
+because I am told every day by Hilda and my mother the most terrible
+things. I have been miserable all day long. I suppose it is the battle I
+had with my mother yesterday.'
+
+'Your mother will be all right again as soon as the thing is done. And
+Hilda will come round too. She will want to show you her new carriage
+and her newest dress. Nobody admires and envies the rich relation so
+much as the poor relation. That is the reason why the poor relation is
+so much courted and petted in every rich family. We shall be the poor
+relations, you know, Elsie.'
+
+'I suppose so. We must accept the part and play it properly.' She spoke
+gaily, but with an effort.
+
+'She will give you some of her old dresses. And she will ask us to some
+of her crushes; but we won't go. Oh! Hilda will come round. As for your
+mother----' He repressed what he was about to say. 'As for your mother,
+Elsie, there is no obstinacy so desperate that it cannot be softened by
+something or other. The constant dropping, you know. Give her time. If
+she refuses to change--why--then'--again he changed the words in
+time--'dear child, we must make our own happiness for ourselves without
+our own folk to help us.'
+
+'Yes; we will. At the same time, George, though I am so valiant in talk,
+I confess that I feel as low as a schoolboy who is going to be
+punished.'
+
+'My dear Elsie,' said George, with a little exasperation, 'if they will
+not come round, let them stay flat or square, or sulky, or anything. I
+can hardly be expected to feel very anxious for a change of temper in
+people who have said so many hard things of me. To-morrow, dear, you
+shall get through your talk with Mr. Dering. He's as hard as nails; but
+he's a just man, and he is sensible. In the evening, I will call for you
+at nine, and you shall tell me what he said. In six weeks we can be
+married. I will see about the banns. We will find a lodging somewhere,
+pack up our things, get married, and move in. We can't afford a
+honeymoon, I am afraid. That shall come afterwards when the ship comes
+home.'
+
+'Yes. When I am with you I fear nothing. It is when you are gone: when I
+sit by myself in my own room, and know that in the next room my mother
+is brooding over her wrath and keeping it warm--that I feel so guilty.
+To-night, it is not that I feel guilty at all: it is quite the contrary;
+but I feel as if something was going to happen.'
+
+'Something is going to happen, dear. I am going to put a wedding ring
+round this pretty finger.'
+
+'When one says something in the language of superstition one means
+something bad, something dreadful, something that shall stand between us
+and force us apart. Something unexpected.'
+
+'My child,' said her lover, 'all the powers of all the devils shall not
+force us apart.' A daring and comprehensive boast.
+
+She laughed a little, lightened by words so brave. 'Here we are, dear,'
+she said, as they arrived at the house. 'I think the rain means to come
+down in earnest. You had better make haste home. To-morrow evening at
+nine, I will expect you.'
+
+She ran lightly up the steps and rang the bell: the door was opened: she
+turned her head, laughed, waved her hand to her lover, and ran in.
+
+There was standing on the kerb beneath the street lamp a man apparently
+engaged in lighting a cigar. When the girl turned, the light of the lamp
+fell full upon her face. The man stared at her, forgetting his
+cigar-light, which fell burning from his hand into the gutter. When the
+door shut upon her, he stared at George, who, for his part, his mistress
+having vanished, stared at the door.
+
+All this staring occupied a period of at least half a minute. Then
+George turned and walked away: the man struck another light, lit his
+cigar, and strode away too, but in the same direction. Presently he
+caught up George and laid a hand upon his shoulder.
+
+'Here, you sir,' he said gruffly; 'I want a word with you before we go
+any further.'
+
+George turned upon him savagely. Nobody likes a heavy hand laid upon the
+shoulder. In the old days it generally meant a writ and Whitecross
+Street and other unpleasant things.
+
+'Who the devil are you?' he asked.
+
+'That is the question I was going----' He stopped and laughed.--'No--I
+see now. I don't want to ask it. You are George Austin, are you not?'
+
+'That is my name. But who are you--and what do you want with me?'
+
+The man was a stranger to him. He was dressed in a velvet coat and a
+white waistcoat: he wore a soft felt hat; and with the velvet jacket,
+the felt hat, and a full beard, he looked like an artist of some kind.
+At the end of June it is still light at half-past nine. George saw that
+the man was a gentleman: his features, strongly marked and clear cut,
+reminded him of something--but vaguely; they gave him the common feeling
+of having been seen or known at some remote period. The man looked about
+thirty, the time when the physical man is at his best: he was of good
+height, well set up, and robust. Something, no doubt, in the art world:
+or something that desired to appear as if belonging to the art world.
+Because, you see, the artists themselves are not so picturesque as those
+who would be artists if they could. The unsuccessful artist, certainly,
+is sometimes a most picturesque creature. So is the model. The rags and
+duds and threadbarity too often enter largely into the picturesque. So
+with the ploughboy's dinner under the hedge, or the cotter's Saturday
+night. And the village beershop may make a very fine picture; but the
+artist himself does not partake in those simple joys.
+
+'Well, sir, who are you?' George repeated as the other man made no
+reply.
+
+'Do you not remember me? I am waiting to give you a chance.'
+
+'No--certainly not.'
+
+'Consider. That house into which you have just taken my--a young
+lady--does it not connect itself with me?'
+
+'No. Why should it?'
+
+'Then I suppose that I am completely forgotten.'
+
+'It is very strange. I seem to recall your voice.'
+
+'I will tell you who I am by another question. George Austin, what in
+thunder are you doing with my sister?'
+
+'Your sister?' George jumped up and stared. 'Your sister? Are you--are
+you Athelstan come home again? Really and truly--Athelstan?'
+
+'I am really and truly Athelstan. I have been back in England about a
+fortnight.'
+
+'You are Athelstan?' George looked at him curiously. When the reputed
+black-sheep comes home again, it is generally in rags with a long story
+of fortune's persecutions. This man was not in the least ragged. On the
+contrary, he looked prosperous. What had he been doing? For, although
+Elsie continued passionate in her belief in her brother's innocence,
+everybody else believed that he had run away to escape consequences, and
+George among the number had accepted that belief.
+
+'Your beard alters you greatly. I should not have known you. To be sure
+it is eight years since I saw you last, and I was only just beginning my
+articles when you--left us.' He was on the point of saying 'when you ran
+away.'
+
+'There is a good deal to talk about. Will you come with me to my rooms?
+I am putting up in Half Moon Street.'
+
+Athelstan hailed a passing hansom and they drove off.
+
+'You have been a fortnight in London,' said George, 'and yet you have
+not been to see your own people.'
+
+'I have been eight years away, and yet I have not written a single
+letter to my own people.'
+
+George asked no more questions. Arrived at the lodging, they went in and
+sat down. Athelstan produced soda and whisky and cigars.
+
+'Why have I not called upon my own people?' Athelstan took up the
+question again. 'Because, when I left home, I swore that I would never
+return until they came to beg forgiveness. That is why. Every evening I
+have been walking outside the house, in the hope of seeing some of them
+without their seeing me. For, you see, I should like to go home again;
+but I will not go as I went away, under a shameful cloud. That has got
+to be lifted first. Presently I shall know whether it is lifted. Then I
+shall know how to act. To-night, I was rewarded by the sight of my
+sister Elsie, walking home with you. I knew her at once. She is taller
+than I thought she would become when I went away. Her face hasn't
+changed much, though. She always had the gift of sweet looks, which
+isn't quite the same thing as beauty. My sister Hilda, for instance, was
+always called a handsome girl, but she never had Elsie's sweet looks.'
+
+'She has the sweetest looks in the world.'
+
+'What are you doing with her, George Austin, I ask again?'
+
+'We are engaged to be married.'
+
+'Married? Elsie married? Why--she's--well--I suppose she must be grown
+up by this time.'
+
+'Elsie is very nearly one-and-twenty. She will be twenty-one to-morrow.'
+
+'Elsie going to be married. It seems absurd. One-and-twenty to-morrow.
+Ah!' He sat up eagerly. 'Tell me, is she any richer? Has she had any
+legacies or things?'
+
+'No. How should she? Her _dot_ is her sweet self, which is enough for
+any man.'
+
+'And you, Austin. I remember you were an articled clerk of eighteen or
+nineteen when I went away--are you rich?'
+
+Austin blushed. 'No,' he said; 'I am not. I am a managing clerk at your
+old office. I get two hundred a year, and we are going to marry on
+that.'
+
+Athelstan nodded. 'A bold thing to do. However----Twenty-one
+to-morrow--we shall see.'
+
+'And I am sorry to say there is the greatest opposition--on the part of
+your mother and your other sister. I am not allowed in the house, and
+Elsie is treated as a rebel.'
+
+'Oh! well. If you see your way, my boy, get married, and have a happy
+life, and leave them to come round at their leisure. Elsie has a heart
+of gold. She can believe in a man. She is the only one of my people who
+stood up for me when they accused me without a shadow of proof of----
+The only one--the only one. It is impossible for me to forget that--and
+difficult,' he added, 'to forgive the other thing.--Is my sister Hilda
+still at home?'
+
+'No. She is married to Sir Samuel, brother of your Mr. Dering. He is a
+great deal older than his wife; but he is very rich.'
+
+'Oh!--and my mother?'
+
+'I believe she continues in good health. I am not allowed the privilege
+of calling upon her.'
+
+'And my old chief?'
+
+'He also continues well.'
+
+'And now, since we have cleared the ground so far, let us come to
+business. How about that robbery?'
+
+'What robbery?' The old business had taken place when George was a lad
+just entering upon his articles. He had ceased to think of it.
+
+'What robbery? Man alive!'--Athelstan sprang to his feet--'there is only
+one robbery to me in the whole history of the world since men and
+robberies began. What robbery? Look here, Master George Austin, when a
+man is murdered, there is for that man only one murder in the whole
+history of the world. All the other murders, even that of Abel himself,
+are of no concern at all--not one bit. He isn't interested in them. They
+don't matter to him a red cent. That's my case. The robbery of eight
+years ago, which took a few hundred pounds from a rich man, changed my
+whole life; it drove me out into the world; it forced me for a time to
+live among the prodigals and the swine and the husks. It handed me over
+to a thousand devils; and you ask me what robbery?'
+
+'I am very sorry. It is now a forgotten thing. Nobody remembers it any
+more. I doubt whether Mr. Dering himself ever thinks of it.'
+
+'Well, what was discovered after all? Who did it?'
+
+'Nothing at all has been discovered. No one knows to this day who did
+it.'
+
+'Nothing at all?--I am disappointed. Hasn't old Checkley done time for
+it? Nothing found out?'
+
+'Nothing. The notes were stopped in time, and were never presented.
+After five or six years the Bank of England gave Mr. Dering notes in the
+place of those stolen. And that is all there is to tell.'
+
+'Nothing discovered! And the notes never presented? What good did the
+fellow get by it, then?'
+
+'I don't know. But nothing was discovered.'
+
+'Nothing discovered!' Athelstan repeated. 'Why, I took it for granted
+that the truth had come out long since. I was making up my mind to call
+upon old Dering. I don't think I shall go now.--And my sister Hilda will
+not be coming here to express her contrition. I am disappointed.'
+
+'You can see Elsie if you like.'
+
+'Yes--I can see her,' he repeated.--'George'--he returned to the old
+subject--'do you know the exact particulars of that robbery?'
+
+'There was a forged cheque, and the Bank paid it across the counter.'
+
+'The cheque,' Athelstan explained, 'was made payable to the order of a
+certain unknown person named Edmund Gray. It was endorsed by that name.
+To prove that forgery, they should have got the cheque and examined the
+endorsement. That was the first thing, certainly. I wonder how they
+began.'
+
+'I do not know. It was while I was in my articles, and all we heard was
+a vague report. You ought not to have gone away. You should have stayed
+to fight it out.'
+
+'I was right to give up my berth after what the chief said. How could I
+remain drawing his pay and doing his work, when he had calmly given me
+to understand that the forgery lay between two hands, and that he
+strongly suspected mine?'
+
+'Did Mr. Dering really say so? Did he go so far as that?'
+
+'So I walked out of the place. I should have stayed at home and waited
+for the clearing up of the thing, but for my own people--who--well--you
+know---- So I went away in a rage.'
+
+'And have you come back--as you went--in a rage?'
+
+'Well--you see, that is the kind of fire that keeps alight of its own
+accord.'
+
+'I believe that some sort of a search was made for this Edmund Gray; but
+I do not know how long it lasted or who was employed.'
+
+'Detectives are no good. Perhaps the chief didn't care to press the
+business. Perhaps he learned enough to be satisfied that Checkley was
+the man. Perhaps he was unwilling to lose an old servant. Perhaps the
+villain confessed the thing. It all comes back to me fresh and clear,
+though for eight long years I have not talked with a soul about it.'
+
+'Tell me,' said George, a little out of sympathy with this dead and
+buried forgery--'tell me where you have been--what you have done--and
+what you are doing now.'
+
+'Presently--presently,' he replied with impatience. 'I am sure now that
+I was wrong. I should not have left the country. I should have taken a
+lodging openly, and waited and looked on. Yes; that would have been
+better. Then I should have seen that old villain, Checkley, in the dock.
+Perhaps it is not yet too late. Still--eight years. Who can expect a
+commissionaire to remember a single message after eight years?'
+
+'Well--and now tell me,' George asked again, 'what you have been doing.'
+
+'The black-sheep always turns up, doesn't he? You learn at home that he
+has got a berth in the Rocky Mountains; but he jacks it up and goes to
+Melbourne, where he falls on his feet; but gets tired, and moves on to
+New Zealand, and so home again. It's a regular round.'
+
+'You are apparently the black-sheep whose wool is dyed white. There are
+threads of gold in it. You look prosperous.'
+
+'A few years ago I was actually in the possession of money. Then I
+became poor again. After a good many adventures I became a journalist.
+The profession is in America the refuge of the educated unsuccessful,
+and the hope of the uneducated unsuccessful. I am doing as well as
+journalists in America generally do: I am over here as the
+representative of a Francisco paper. And I expect to stay for some
+time--so long as I can be of service to my people. That's all.'
+
+'Well--it might be a great deal worse. And won't you come to Pembridge
+Crescent with me?'
+
+'When the cloud is lifted: not before. And--George--not a word about me.
+Don't tell--yet--even Elsie.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+SOMETHING MORE HAPPENS
+
+
+Checkley held the door of the office wide open, and invited Elsie to
+enter. The aspect of the room, solid of furniture, severe in its
+fittings, with its vast table covered with papers, struck her with a
+kind of terror. At the table sat her guardian, austere of countenance.
+
+All the way along she had been imagining a dialogue. He would begin with
+certain words. She would reply, firmly but respectfully, with certain
+other words. He would go on. She would again reply. And so on. Everybody
+knows the consolations of imagination in framing dialogues at times of
+trouble. They never come off. The beginning is never what is expected,
+and the sequel, therefore, has to be changed on the spot. The conditions
+of the interview had not been realised by Elsie. Also the beginning was
+not what she expected. For her guardian, instead of frowning with a brow
+of corrugated iron, and holding up a finger of warning, received her
+more pleasantly than she had imagined it possible for him, bade her sit
+down, and leaned back, looking at her kindly.
+
+'And so,' he said, 'you are twenty-one--twenty-one--to-day. I am no
+longer your guardian. You are twenty-one. Everything that is past seems
+to have happened yesterday. So that it is needless to say that you were
+a baby only yesterday.'
+
+'Yes; I am really twenty-one.'
+
+'I congratulate you. To be twenty-one is, I believe, for a young lady at
+least, a pleasant time of life. For my own part, I have almost forgotten
+the memory of youth. Perhaps I never had the time to be young. Certainly
+I have never understood why some men regret their youth so
+passionately. As for your sex, Elsie, I know very little of it except in
+the way of business. In that way, which does not admit of romance, I
+must say that I have sometimes found ladies importunate, tenacious,
+exacting, persistent, and even revengeful.'
+
+'Oh!' said Elsie, with a little winning smile of conciliation. This was
+only a beginning--a prelude--before the unpleasantness.
+
+'That, Elsie, is my unfortunate experience of women--always in the
+way of business, which of course may bring out the worst qualities.
+In society, of which I have little experience, they are
+doubtless--charming--charming.' He repeated the word, as if he had found
+an adjective of whose meaning he was not quite clear. 'An old bachelor
+is not expected, at the age of seventy-five, to know much about such a
+subject. The point before us is that you have this day arrived at the
+mature age of twenty-one. That is the first thing, and I congratulate
+you. The first thing.'
+
+'I wonder,' thought Elsie timidly, 'when he will begin upon the next
+thing--the real thing.'
+
+There lay upon the table before him a paper with notes upon it. He took
+it up, looked at it, and laid it down again. Then he turned to Elsie and
+smiled--he actually smiled--he unmistakably smiled. 'At twenty-one,' he
+said, 'some young ladies who are heiresses come into their property----'
+
+'Those who are heiresses. Unhappily, I am not.'
+
+'Come into their property--their property. It must be a beautiful thing
+for a girl to come into property, unexpectedly, at twenty-one. For a
+man, a temptation to do nothing and to make no more money. Bad! Bad! But
+for a girl already engaged, a girl who wants money, a girl who is
+engaged--eh--to a penniless young solicitor----'
+
+Elsie turned crimson. This was the thing she expected.
+
+'Under such circumstances, I say, such a stroke of fortune would be
+providential and wonderful, would it not?'
+
+She blushed and turned pale, and blushed again. She also felt a strong
+disposition to cry--but repressed that disposition.
+
+'In your case, for instance, such a windfall would be most welcome. Your
+case is rather a singular case. You do not belong to a family which has
+generally disregarded money--quite the reverse--you should inherit the
+love of money--yet you propose to throw away what I believe are very
+good prospects, and----'
+
+'My only prospect is to marry George Austin.'
+
+'So you think. I have heard from your mother, and I have seen your
+sister Hilda. They object very strongly to the engagement.'
+
+'I know, of course, what they would say.'
+
+'Therefore, I need not repeat it,' replied Mr. Dering drily. 'I learn,
+then, that you are not only engaged to this young gentleman, but that
+you are also proposing to marry upon the small income which he now
+possesses.'
+
+'Yes--we are prepared to begin the world upon that income.'
+
+'Your mother asked me what chance he had in his profession. In this
+office he can never rise to a considerable salary as managing clerk. If
+he had money, he might buy a partnership. But he has none, and his
+friends have none. And the profession is congested. He may remain all
+his life in a position not much better than he now occupies. The
+prospect, Elsie, is not brilliant.'
+
+'No--we are fully aware of that. And yet----'
+
+'Allow me, my dear child. You are yourself--we will say for the
+moment--without any means of your own.'
+
+'I have nothing.'
+
+'Or any expectations, except from your mother, who is not yet sixty.'
+
+'I could not count upon my mother's death. Besides, she says that, if I
+persist, she will not leave me anything at all.'
+
+'So much I understand from herself. Her present intention is to remove
+your name from her will, in case you go on with this proposed marriage.'
+
+'My mother will do what she pleases with her property,' said Elsie. 'If
+she thinks that I will give way to a threat of this kind, she does not
+know me.'
+
+'Do not let us speak of threats. I am laying before you facts. Here they
+are plainly. Young Austin has a very small income: he has very little
+prospect of getting a substantial income: you, so far as you know, have
+nothing; and, also so far as you know, you have no prospect of anything.
+These are the facts, are they not?'
+
+'Yes--I suppose these are the facts. We shall be quite poor--very
+likely, quite poor always.' The tears rose to her eyes. But this was not
+a place for crying.
+
+'I want you to understand these facts very clearly,' Mr. Dering
+insisted. 'Believe me, I do not wish to give you pain.'
+
+'All this,' said Elsie, with the beginnings of the family obstinacy in
+her eyes, 'I clearly understand. I have had them put before me too
+often.'
+
+'I also learn from your sister, Lady Dering, that if you abandon this
+marriage she is ready to do anything for you that she can. Her house,
+her carriage, her servants--you can command them all, if you please.
+This you know. Have you considered the meaning of what you propose? Can
+you consider it calmly?'
+
+'I believe we have.'
+
+'On the one side poverty--not what is called a small income. Many people
+live very well on what is called a small income--but grinding, hard
+poverty, which exacts real privations and burdens you with unexpected
+loads. My dear young lady, you have been brought up to a certain amount
+of plenty and ease, if not to luxury. Do you think you can get along
+without plenty and ease?'
+
+'If George can, I can.'
+
+'Can you become a servant--cook, housemaid, lady's-maid--as well as a
+wife--a nurse as well as a mother?'
+
+'If George is made happier by my becoming anything--anything, it will
+only make me happier. Mr. Dering, I am sure you wish me well--you are my
+father's old friend--you have always advised my mother in her
+troubles--my brother was articled to you--but----' She paused,
+remembering that he had not been her brother's best friend.
+
+'I mean the best possible for you. Meantime, you are quite fixed in your
+own mind: you are set upon this thing. That is clear. There is one other
+way of looking at it. You yourself seem chiefly desirous, I think, to
+make the man you love happy. So much the better for him.--Are you quite
+satisfied that the other party to the agreement, your lover, will remain
+happy while he sees you slaving for him, while he feels his own
+helplessness, and while he gets no relief from the grinding poverty of
+his household--while--lastly--he sees his sons taking their place on a
+lower level, and his daughters taking a place below the rank of
+gentlewoman?'
+
+'I reply by another question.--You have had George in your office as
+articled clerk and managing clerk for eight years. Is he, or is he not,
+steadfast, clear-headed, one who knows his own mind, and one who can be
+trusted in all things?'
+
+'Perhaps,' said Mr. Dering, inclining his head. 'How does that advance
+him?'
+
+'Then, if you trust him, why should not I trust him? I trust George
+altogether--altogether. If he does not get on, it will be through no
+fault of his. We shall bear our burden bravely, believe me, Mr. Dering.
+You will not hear him--or me--complain. Besides, I am full of hope. Oh!
+it can never be in this country that a man who is a good workman should
+not be able to get on. Then I can paint a little--not very well,
+perhaps. But I have thought--you will not laugh at me--that I might
+paint portraits and get a little money that way.'
+
+'It is quite possible that he may succeed, and that you may increase the
+family income. Everything is possible. But, remember, you are building
+on possibilities, and I on facts. Plans very beautiful and easy at the
+outset often prove most difficult in the carrying out. My experience of
+marriages is learned by fifty years of work, not imaginative, but
+practical. I have learned that without adequate means no marriage can be
+happy. That is to say, I have never come across any case of wedded
+poverty where the husband or the wife, or both, did not regret the day
+when they faced poverty together instead of separately. That, I say, is
+my experience of such marriages. It is so easy to say that hand in hand
+evils may be met and endured which would be intolerable if one was
+alone. It isn't only hand in hand, Elsie. The hands are wanted for the
+baby, and the evils will fall on the children yet unborn.'
+
+Elsie hung her head. Then she replied timidly: 'I have thought even of
+that. It only means that we go lower down in the social scale.'
+
+'Only? Yet that is everything. People who are well up the ladder too
+often deride those who are fighting and struggling to get up higher. It
+is great folly or great ignorance to laugh. Social position, in such a
+country as ours, means independence, self-respect, dignity, all kinds of
+valuable things. You will throw these all away--yet your grandfathers
+won them for you by hard work. You are yourself a gentlewoman--why?
+Because they made their way up in the world, and placed their sons also
+in the way to climb. That is how families are made--by three generations
+at least of steady work uphill.'
+
+Elsie shook her head sadly. 'We can only hope,' she murmured.
+
+'One more word, and I will say no more. Remember, that love or no love,
+resignation or not, patience or not, physical comfort is the beginning
+and the foundation of all happiness. If you and your husband can satisfy
+the demands of physical comfort, you may be happy--or at least resigned.
+If not---- Well, Elsie, that is all. I should not have said so much had
+I not promised your mother and your sister. I am touched, I confess, by
+your courage and your resolution.'
+
+'We mean never to regret, never to look back, and always to work and
+hope,' said Elsie. 'You will remain our friend, Mr. Dering?'
+
+'Surely, surely.--And now----'
+
+'Now'--Elsie rose--'I will not keep you any longer. You have said what
+you wished to say very kindly, and I thank you.'
+
+'No.--Sit down again; I haven't done with you yet, child. Sit down
+again. No more about that young villain--George Austin.' He spoke so
+good-humouredly, that Elsie complied wondering, but no longer afraid.
+'Nothing more about your engagement. Now, listen carefully, because this
+is most important. Three or four years ago a person wrote to me. That
+person informed me that he--for convenience we will call the person a
+man--wished to place a certain sum of money in my hands in trust--for
+you.'
+
+'For me? Do you mean--in trust? What is Trust?'
+
+'He gave me this sum of money to be given to you on your twenty-first
+birthday.'
+
+'Oh!' Elsie sat up with open eyes. 'A sum of money?--and to me?'
+
+'With a condition or two. The first condition was, that the interest
+should be invested as it came in: the next, that I was on no
+account--mind, on no account at all--to tell you or any one of the
+existence of the gift or the name of the donor. You are now twenty-one.
+I have been careful not to afford you the least suspicion of this happy
+windfall until the time should arrive. Neither your mother, nor your
+sister, nor your lover, knows or suspects anything about it.'
+
+'Oh!' Elsie said once more. An interjection may be defined as a
+prolonged monosyllable, generally a vowel, uttered when no words can do
+justice to the subject.
+
+'And here, my dear young lady'--Elsie cried 'Oh!' once more because--the
+most curious thing in the world--Mr. Dering's grave face suddenly
+relaxed and the lines assumed the very benevolence which she had the day
+before imparted to his portrait, and wished to see upon his
+face!--'Here, my dear young lady'--he laid his hand upon a paper--'is
+the list of the investments which I have made of that money. You have,
+in fact, money in Corporation bonds--Newcastle, Nottingham,
+Wolverhampton. You have water shares--you have gas shares--all good
+investments, yielding at the price of purchase an average of nearly
+three and two-thirds per cent.'
+
+'Investments? Why--how much money was it, then? I was thinking when you
+spoke of a sum of money, of ten pounds, perhaps.'
+
+'No, Elsie, not ten pounds. The money placed in my hands for your use
+was over twelve thousand pounds. With accumulations, there is now a
+little under thirteen thousand.'
+
+'Oh!' cried Elsie for the third time and for the same reason. No words
+could express her astonishment.
+
+'Yes; it will produce about four hundred and eighty pounds a year.
+Perhaps, as some of the stock has gone up, it might be sold out and
+placed to better advantage. We may get it up to five hundred pounds.'
+
+'Do you mean, Mr. Dering, that I have actually got five hundred pounds a
+year--all my own?'
+
+'That is certainly my meaning. You have nearly five hundred pounds a
+year all your own--entirely your own, without any conditions
+whatever--your own.'
+
+'Oh!' She sat in silence, her hands locked. Then the tears came into her
+eyes. 'Oh, George!' she murmured, 'you will not be so very poor after
+all.'
+
+'That is all I have to say to you at present, Elsie,' said Mr. Dering.
+'Now you may run away and leave me. Come to dinner this evening. Your
+mother and your sister are coming. I shall ask Austin as well. We may
+perhaps remove some of those objections. Dinner at seven sharp,
+Elsie.--And now you can leave me.'
+
+'I said last night,' said Elsie, clasping her hands with feminine
+superstition, 'that something was going to happen. But I thought it was
+something horrid. Oh, Mr. Dering, if you only knew how happy you have
+made me! I don't know what to say. I feel stunned. Five hundred pounds a
+year! Oh! it is wonderful! What shall I say? What shall I say?'
+
+'You will say nothing. Go away now. Come to dinner this evening.--Go
+away, my young heiress. Go and make plans how to live on your enlarged
+income. It will not prove too much.'
+
+Elsie rose. Then she turned again. 'Oh, I had actually forgotten. Won't
+you tell the man--or the woman--who gave you that money for me, that I
+thank him from my very heart? It isn't that I think so much about money,
+but oh! the dreadful trouble that there has been at home because George
+has none--and this will do something to reconcile my mother. Don't you
+think it will make all the difference?'
+
+'I hope that before the evening you will find that all opposition has
+been removed,' said her guardian cautiously.
+
+She walked away in a dream. She found herself in Lincoln's Inn Fields:
+she walked all round that great square, also in a dream. The spectre of
+poverty had vanished. She was rich: she was rich: she had five hundred
+pounds a year. Between them they would have seven hundred pounds a year.
+It seemed enormous. Seven hundred pounds a year! Seven--seven--seven
+hundred pounds a year!
+
+She got out into the street called Holborn, and she took the modest
+omnibus, this heiress of untold wealth. How much was it? Thirteen
+millions? or thirteen thousand? One seemed as much as the other. Twelve
+thousand: with accumulations: with accumulations--ations--ations. The
+wheels of the vehicle groaned out these musical words all the way. It
+was in the morning when the Bayswater omnibus is full of girls going
+home to lunch after shopping or looking at the shops. Elsie looked at
+these girls as they sat along the narrow benches. 'My dears,' she longed
+to say, but did not, 'I hope you have every one got a brave lover, and
+that you have all got twelve thousand pounds apiece--with accumulations--
+twelve thousand pounds--with accumulations--ations--ations--realising
+four hundred and eighty pounds a year, and perhaps a little more. With
+accumulations--ations--ations--accumulations.'
+
+She ran into the house and up the stairs singing. At the sound of her
+voice her mother, engaged in calculations of the greatest difficulty,
+paused wondering. When she understood that it was the voice of her child
+and not an organ-grinder, she became angry. What right had the girl to
+run about singing? Was it insolent bravado?
+
+Elsie opened the door of the drawing-room and ran in. Her mother's cold
+face repelled her. She was going to tell the joyful news--but she
+stopped.
+
+'You have seen Mr. Dering?' asked her mother.
+
+'Yes; I have seen him.'
+
+'If he has brought you to reason----'
+
+'Oh! He has--he has. I am entirely reasonable.'
+
+Mrs. Arundel was astonished. The girl was flushed of face and bright of
+eye; her breath was thick; her lips were parted. She looked entirely
+happy.
+
+'My dear mother,' she went on, 'I am to dine with him to-night. Hilda is
+to dine with him to-night. You are to dine with him to-night. It is to
+be a family party. He will bring us all to reason--to a bag full of
+reasons.'
+
+'Elsie, this seems to me to be mirth misplaced.'
+
+'No--no--in its right place--reasons all in a row and on three shelves,
+labelled and arranged and classified.'
+
+'You talk in enigmas.'
+
+'My dear mother'--yet that morning the dear mother would not speak to
+the dear daughter--'I talk in enigmas and I sing in conundrums. I feel
+like an oracle or a Delphic old woman for dark sayings.'
+
+She ran away, slamming the door after her. Her mother heard her singing
+in her studio all to herself. 'Can she be in her right mind?' she asked
+anxiously. 'To marry a Pauper--to receive the admonition of her
+guardian--and such a guardian--and to come home singing. 'Twould be
+better to lock her up than let her marry.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENS
+
+
+Mr. Dering lay back in his chair, gazing at the door--the unromantic
+office door--through which Elsie had just passed. I suppose that even
+the driest of old bachelors and lawyers may be touched by the sight of a
+young girl made suddenly and unexpectedly happy. Perhaps the mere
+apparition of a lovely girl, dainty and delicate and sweet, daintily and
+delicately apparelled, so as to look like a goddess or a wood-nymph
+rather than a creature of clay, may have awakened old and long-forgotten
+thoughts before the instincts of youth were stifled by piles of
+parchment. It is the peculiar and undisputed privilege of the historian
+to read thoughts, but it is not always necessary to write them down.
+
+He sat up and sighed. 'I have not told her all,' he murmured. 'She shall
+be happier still.' He touched his hand-bell. 'Checkley,' he said, 'ask
+Mr. Austin kindly to step this way.--A day of surprise--of joyful
+surprise--for both.'
+
+It was indeed to be a day of good fortune, as you shall see.
+
+He opened a drawer and took out a document rolled and tied, which he
+laid upon the table before him.
+
+George obeyed the summons, not without misgiving, for Elsie, he knew,
+must by this time have had the dreaded interview, and the call might
+have some reference to his own share in the great contumacy. To incur
+the displeasure of his employer in connection with that event might lead
+to serious consequences.
+
+Astonishing thing! Mr. Dering received him with a countenance that
+seemed transformed. He smiled benevolently upon him. He even laughed. He
+smiled when George opened the door: he laughed when, in obedience to a
+gesture of invitation, George took a chair. He actually laughed: not
+weakly or foolishly, but as a strong man laughs.
+
+'I want ten minutes with you, George Austin'--he actually used the
+Christian name--'ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, or perhaps half an
+hour.' He laughed again. 'Now, then'--his face assumed its usual
+judicial expression, but his lips broke into unaccustomed smiles--'Now
+then, sir, I have just seen my ward--my former ward, for she is now of
+age--and have heard--well--everything there was to hear.'
+
+'I have no doubt, sir, that what you heard from Elsie was the exact
+truth.'
+
+'I believe so. The questions which I put to her I also put to you. How
+do you propose to live? On your salary? You have been engaged to my late
+ward without asking the permission of her guardians--that is, her mother
+and myself.'
+
+'That is not quite the case. We found that her mother opposed the
+engagement, and therefore it was not necessary to ask your permission.
+We agreed to let the matter rest until she should be of age. Meanwhile,
+we openly corresponded and saw each other.'
+
+'It is a distinction without a difference. Perhaps what you would call a
+legal distinction. You now propose to marry. Elsie Arundel is no longer
+my ward; but, as a friend, I venture to ask you how you propose to live?
+A wife and a house cost money. Shall you keep house and wife on your
+salary alone? Have you any other resources?'
+
+There are several ways of putting these awkward questions. There is
+especially the way of accusation, by which you charge the guilty young
+man of being by his own fault one of a very huge family--of having no
+money and no expectations--nothing at all, unless he can make it for
+himself. It is the manner generally adopted by parents and guardians.
+Mr. Dering, however, when he put the question smiled genially and rubbed
+his hands--a thing so unusual as to be terrifying in itself--as if he
+was uttering a joke--a thing he never had done in his life. The
+question, however, even when put in this, the kindest way, is one most
+awkward for any young man, and especially to a young man in either
+branch of the law, and most especially to a young man beginning the
+ascent of the lower branch.
+
+Consider, of all the professions, crowded as they are, there is none so
+crowded as this branch of the law. 'What,' asks anxious Quiverful Père,
+'shall I do with this boy of mine? I will spend a thousand pounds upon
+him and make him a solicitor. Once he has passed, the way is clear for
+him.' 'How,' asks the ambitious man of trade, 'shall I advance my son?
+I will make him a lawyer; once passed he will open an office and get a
+practice and become rich. He will be a gentleman. And his children will
+be born gentlemen.' Very good; a most laudable custom it is in this
+realm of Great Britain for the young men still to be pressing upwards,
+though those who are already high up would fain forget the days of
+climbing and sneer at those who are making their way. But, applied to
+this profession, climbing seems no longer practicable. This way of
+advance will have to be abandoned.
+
+Consider, again. Every profession gets rich out of its own mine. There
+is the mine Ecclesiastic, the mine Medical, the mine Artistic, the mine
+Legal. The last-named contains leases, covenants, agreements, wills,
+bonds, mortgages, actions, partnerships, transfers, conveyances, county
+courts, and other treasures, all to be had for the digging. But--and
+this is too often forgotten--there is only a limited quantity to be
+taken out of the mine every year, and there is not enough to go round,
+except in very minute portions. And since, until we become socialists at
+heart, we shall all of us continue to desire for our share that which is
+called the mess of Benjamin, and since all cannot get that mess--which
+Mr. Dering had enjoyed for the whole of his life--or anything like that
+desirable portion, most young solicitors go in great heaviness of
+spirit--hang their heads, corrugate their foreheads, write despairing
+letters to the girls they left behind them, and with grumbling gratitude
+take the hundred or two hundred a year which is offered for their
+services as managing clerks. Again, the Legal mine seems of late years
+not to yield anything like so much as formerly. There has been a cruel
+shrinkage all over the country, and especially in country towns: the
+boom of building seems to have come to an end: the agricultural
+depression has dragged down with it an immense number of people who
+formerly flourished with the lawyers, and, by means of their savings,
+investments, leases, and partnerships and quarrels, made many a
+solicitor fat and happy. That is all gone. It used to be easy, if one
+had a little money, to buy a partnership. Now it is no longer possible,
+or, at least, no longer easy. Nobody has a business greater than he
+himself can manage; everybody has got a son coming in.
+
+These considerations show why the question was difficult to answer.
+
+Said George in reply, but with some confusion: 'We are prepared to live
+on little. We are not in the least extravagant: Elsie will rough it.
+Besides, she has her Art----'
+
+'Out of which she makes at present nothing a year.'
+
+'But she will get on--and I may hope, may reasonably hope, some time to
+make an income larger than my present one.'
+
+'You may hope--you may hope. But the position is not hopeful. In fact,
+George Austin, you must marry on ten times your present income, or not
+at all.'
+
+'But I assure you, sir, our ideas are truly modest, and we have made up
+our minds how we can live and pay our way.'
+
+'You think you have. That is to say, you have prepared a table of
+expenses showing how, with twopence to spare, you can live very well on
+two hundred pounds a year. Of course you put down nothing for the
+thousand and one little unexpected things which everybody of your
+education and habits pays for every day.'
+
+'We have provided as far as we can see.'
+
+'Well, it won't do. Of course, I can't forbid the girl to marry you. She
+is of age. I can't forbid you--but I can make it impossible--impossible
+for you, Master Austin--impossible.'
+
+He rapped the table. The words were stern, but the voice was kindly, and
+he smiled again as he spoke. 'You thought you would do without me, did
+you? Well--you shall see--you shall see.'
+
+George received this threat without words, but with a red face, and with
+rising indignation. Still, when one is a servant, one must endure the
+reproofs of the master. He said nothing therefore, but waited.
+
+'I have considered for some time,' Mr. Dering continued, 'how to meet
+this case in a satisfactory manner. At last, I made up my mind. And if
+you will read this document, young gentleman, you will find that I have
+made your foolish proposal to marry on love and nothing else quite
+impossible--quite impossible, sir.' He slapped the table with the paper,
+and tossed it over to George.
+
+George took the paper, and began to read it. Suddenly he jumped out of
+his chair. He sprang to his feet. '_What?_' he cried.
+
+'Go on--go on,' said Mr. Dering benevolently.
+
+'Partnership? Partnership?' George gasped. 'What does it mean?'
+
+'It is, as you say, a Deed of Partnership between myself and yourself.
+The conditions of the Partnership are duly set forth--I hope you will
+see your way to accepting them.--A Deed of Partnership. I do not know
+within a few hundreds what your share may be, but I believe you may
+reckon on at least two thousand for the first year, and more--much
+more--before long.'
+
+'More than a thousand?'
+
+'You have not read the deed through. Call yourself a lawyer? Sit down,
+and read it word for word.'
+
+George obeyed, reading it as if it was a paper submitted to him for
+consideration, a paper belonging to some one else.
+
+'Well? You have read it?'
+
+'Yes; I have read it through.'
+
+'Observe that the Partnership may be dissolved by Death, Bankruptcy, or
+Mutual Consent. I receive two-thirds of the proceeds for life.
+That--alas!--will not be for long.--Well, young man, do you accept this
+offer?'
+
+'Accept? Oh! Accept? What can I do? What can I say--but accept?' He
+walked to the window, and looked out; I suppose he was admiring the
+trees in the square, which were certainly very beautiful in early July.
+Then he returned, his eyes humid.
+
+'Aha!' Mr. Dering chuckled. 'I told you that I would make it impossible
+for you to marry on two hundred pounds a year. I waited till Elsie's
+birthday. Well? You will now be able to revise that little estimate of
+living on two hundred a year. Eh?'
+
+'Mr. Dering,' said George, with breaking voice, 'I cannot believe it; I
+cannot understand it. I have not deserved it.'
+
+'Shake hands, my Partner.'
+
+The two men shook hands.
+
+'Now sit down and let us talk a bit,' said Mr. Dering. 'I am old. I am
+past seventy. I have tried to persuade myself that I am still as fit for
+work as ever. But I have had warnings. I now perceive that they must be
+taken as warnings. Sometimes it is a little confusion of memory--I am
+not able to account for little things--I forget what I did yesterday
+afternoon. I suppose all old men get these reminders of coming decay. It
+means that I must reduce work and responsibility. I might give up
+business altogether and retire: I have money enough and to spare: but
+this is the third generation of a successful House, and I could not bear
+to close the doors, and to think that the Firm would altogether vanish.
+So I thought I would take a partner, and I began to look about me.
+Well--in brief, I came to the conclusion that I should find no young man
+better qualified than yourself for ability and for power of work and for
+all the qualities necessary for the successful conduct of such a House
+as this. Especially I considered the essential of good manners. I was
+early taught by my father that the greatest aid to success is good
+breeding. I trust that in this respect I have done justice to the
+teaching of one who was the most courtly of his time. You belong to an
+age of less ceremony and less respect to rank. But we are not always in
+a barrack or in a club. We are not all comrades or equals. There are
+those below to consider as well as those above. There are women: there
+are old men: you, my partner, have shown me that you can give to each
+the consideration, the deference, the recognition that he deserves. True
+breeding is the recognition of the individual. You are careful of the
+small things which smooth the asperities of business. In no profession,
+not even that of medicine, is a good manner more useful than in ours.
+And this you possess.--It also pleases me,' he added after a pause, 'to
+think that in making you my partner I am also promoting the happiness of
+a young lady I have known all her life.'
+
+George murmured something. He looked more like a guilty schoolboy than a
+man just raised to a position most enviable. His cheeks were flushed and
+his hands trembled. Mr. Dering touched his bell.
+
+'Checkley,' he said, when that faithful retainer appeared, 'I have
+already told you of my intention to take a partner. This is my new
+partner.'
+
+Checkley changed colour. His old eyes--or was George wrong?--flashed
+with a light of malignity as he raised them. It made him feel
+uncomfortable--but only for a moment.
+
+'My partner, Checkley,' repeated Mr. Dering.
+
+'Oh!' His voice was dry and grating. 'Since we couldn't go on as
+before---- Well, I hope you won't repent it.'
+
+'You shall witness the signing of the deed, Checkley. Call in a clerk.
+So--there we have it, drawn, signed, and witnessed. Once more, my
+partner, shake hands.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Elsie retired to her own room after the snub administered to her rising
+spirits. She soon began to sing again, being much too happy to be
+affected by anything so small. She went on with her portrait, preserving
+some, but not all, of the softness and benevolence which she had put
+into it, and thereby producing what is allowed to be an excellent
+portrait, but somewhat flattering. She herself knows very well that it
+is not flattering at all, but even lower than the truth, only the other
+people have never seen the lawyer in an expansive moment.
+
+Now while she was thus engaged, her mind going back every other minute
+to her newly-acquired inheritance, a cab drove up to the house--the door
+flew open, and her lover--her George--flew into her arms.
+
+'You here--George? Actually in the house? Oh! but you know----'
+
+'I know--I know. But I could not possibly wait till this evening. My
+dear child, the most wonderful--the most wonderful thing--the most
+extraordinary thing--in the whole world has happened--a thing we could
+never hope and never ask----'
+
+'Mr. Dering has told you, then?'
+
+'What? Do you know?'
+
+'Mr. Dering told me this morning.--Oh, George! isn't it wonderful?'
+
+'Wonderful? It is like the last chapter of a novel!' This he said
+speaking as a fool, because the only last chapter in life is that in
+which Azrael crosses the threshold.
+
+'Oh, George!--I have been walking in the air--I have been flying--I have
+been singing and dancing. I feel as if I had never before known what it
+was to be happy. Mr. Dering said something about having it
+settled--mind--it's all yours, George--yours as well as mine.'
+
+'Yes,' said George, a little puzzled. 'I suppose in the eyes of the law
+it is mine, but then it is yours as well. All that is mine is yours.
+
+'Oh! Mr. Dering said it was mine in the eyes of the law. What does it
+matter, George, what the stupid old law says?'
+
+'Nothing, my dear--nothing at all.'
+
+'It will be worth five hundred pounds a year very nearly. That, with
+your two hundred pounds a year, will make us actually comfortable after
+all our anxieties.'
+
+'Five hundred a year? It will be worth four times that, I hope.'
+
+'Four times? Oh, no!--that is impossible. But Mr. Dering told me that he
+could hardly get so much as four per cent., and I have made a sum and
+worked it out. Rule for simple interest: multiply the principal by the
+rate per cent., and again by the time, and divide by a hundred. It is
+quite simple. And what makes the sum simpler, you need only take one
+year.'
+
+'What principal, Elsie, by what interest? You are running your little
+head against rules of arithmetic. Here there is no principal and no
+interest. It is a case of proceeds, and then division.'
+
+'We will call it proceeds, if you like, George, but he called it
+interest. Anyhow, it comes to five hundred a year, very nearly; and with
+your two hundred----'
+
+'I don't know what you mean by your five hundred a year. As for my two
+hundred, unless I am very much mistaken, that will very soon be two
+thousand.'
+
+'Your two hundred will become----? George, we are talking across each
+other.'
+
+'Yes. What money of yours do you mean?'
+
+'I mean the twelve thousand pounds that Mr. Dering holds for me--with
+accumulations--accumulations'--she began to sing the rhyme of the
+omnibus wheels--'accumulations--ations--ations.'
+
+'Twelve thousand pounds? Is this fairyland? Twelve thousand----? I
+reel--I faint--I sink--I melt away. Take my hands--both my hands,
+Elsie--kiss me kindly--it's better than brandy--kindly kiss me. Twelve
+thousand pounds! with accumulations----'
+
+'--ations--ations--ations,' she sung. 'Never before, George, have I
+understood the loveliness and the power of money. They were given to Mr.
+Dering by an anonymous person to be held for me--secretly. No one
+knows--not even, yet, my mother.'
+
+'Oh! It is altogether too much--too much: once there was a poor but
+loving couple, and Fortune turned her wheel, and---- You don't
+know--you most unsuspecting ignorant Thing--you can't guess-- Oh, Elsie,
+I am a partner--Mr. Dering's partner!
+
+They caught hands again--then they let go--then they sat down, and gazed
+upon each other.
+
+'Elsie,' said George.
+
+'George,' said Elsie.
+
+'We can now marry like everybody else--but much better. We shall have
+furniture now.'
+
+'All the furniture we shall want, and a house where we please. No
+contriving now--no pinching.'
+
+'No self-denying for each other, my dear.'
+
+'That's a pity, isn't it?--But, George, don't repine. The advantages may
+counterbalance the drawbacks. I think I see the cottage where we were
+going to live. It is in Islington: or near it--Barnsbury, perhaps: there
+is a little garden in front, and one at the back. There is always
+washing hung out to dry. I don't like the smell of suds. For dinner, one
+has cold Australian tinned meat for economy, not for choice. The rooms
+are very small, and the furniture is shabby, because it was cheap and
+bad to begin with. And when you come home--oh, George!'--she stuck her
+forefinger in her chalk, and drew two or three lines on his face--'you
+look like that, so discontented, so grumpy, so gloomy. Oh, my dear, the
+advantages--they do so greatly outbalance the drawbacks; and George--you
+will love your wife all the more--I am sure you will--because she can
+always dress properly and look nice, and give you a dinner that will
+help to rest you from the work of the day.'
+
+Once more this foolish couple fell into each other's arms and kissed
+again with tears and smiles and laughter.
+
+'Who,' asked Mrs. Arundel, ringing the bell up-stairs, 'who is with Miss
+Elsie below?'
+
+On hearing that it was Mr. George Austin, whose presence in the house
+was forbidden, Mrs. Arundel rose solemnly and awfully, and walked down
+the stairs. She had a clear duty before her. When she threw open the
+door, the lovers were hand in hand dancing round the room laughing--but
+the tears were running down Elsie's cheeks.
+
+'Elsie,' said her mother, standing at the open door, 'perhaps you can
+explain this.'
+
+'Permit me to explain,' said George.
+
+'This gentleman, Elsie, has been forbidden the house.'
+
+'One moment,' he began.
+
+'Go, sir.' She pointed majestically to the window.
+
+'Oh!' cried Elsie. 'Tell her, George--tell her; I cannot.' She fell to
+laughing and crying together, but still held her lover by the hand.
+
+'I will have no communication whatever with one who robs me of a
+daughter,' said this Roman matron. 'Will you once more leave the house,
+sir?'
+
+'Mother--you _must_ hear him.'
+
+'Nothing,' said Mrs. Arundel, 'will ever induce me to speak to
+him--nothing.'
+
+'Mother, don't be silly,' Elsie cried; 'you don't know what has
+happened. You _must_ not say such things. You will only be sorry for
+them afterwards.'
+
+'Never--never. One may forgive such a man, but one can never speak to
+him, never--whatever happens--never.' The lady looked almost heroic as
+she waved her right hand in the direction of the man.
+
+'I will go,' said George, 'but not till you have heard me. I am
+rich--Elsie is rich--we shall not marry into poverty. The whole
+situation is entirely changed.'
+
+'Changed,' Elsie repeated, taking George's arm.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'My dear George,' said Mrs. Arundel, when she had heard the whole
+story--and by cross examination persuaded herself that it was true--'you
+know on what a just basis my objections were founded. Otherwise, I
+should have been delighted at the outset.--Kiss me, Elsie.--You have my
+full consent, children. These remarkable events are Providential.--On
+Mr. Dering's death or retirement, you will step into an enormous
+practice. Follow his example. Take no partner till old age compels you.
+Keep all the profits for yourself--all.--My dear George, you should be a
+very happy man. Not so rich, perhaps, as my son-in-law, Sir Samuel, but
+above the ordinary run of common happiness. As for the past---- We will
+now go down to lunch.--There is the bell. These emotions are
+fatiguing.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+IN HONOUR OF THE EVENT
+
+
+May one dwell upon so simple a thing as a small family dinner-party? It
+is generally undramatic and uneventful: it is not generally marked even
+by a new dish or a bottle of rare wine. Yet there lingers in the mind of
+every man the recollection of pleasant dinners. I should like to write a
+Book of Dinners--not a book for the _gourmet_, but a book of memories.
+It might be a most delightful volume. There would be in it the
+school-boys' dinner. I remember a certain dinner at eighteenpence a
+head, at Richmond, before we had the row in the boat, when we quarrelled
+and broke the oars over each other's heads, and very nearly capsized: a
+certain undergraduates' dinner, in which four men--three of whom are now
+ghosts--joined: the Ramblers' dinner, of lamb chops and bottled ale and
+mirth and merriment: the two-by-two dinner in the private room, a dainty
+dinner of sweet lamb, sweet bread, sweet peas, sweet looks, sweet
+Moselle, and sweet words. Is it really true that one never--never--gets
+young again? Some people do, I am sure, but they are under promise to
+say nothing about it. I shall--and then that dinner may perhaps--one
+cannot say--one never knows--and I suppose--if one was young again--that
+they would be found just as pretty as they ever were. There is the
+official dinner, stately and cold: the city dinner, which generally
+comes to a man when his digestion is no longer what it was: the family
+dinner, in which the intellect plays so small a part, because no one
+wastes his fine things on his brothers and sisters: the dinner at which
+one has to make a speech. Indeed, this Book of Dinners promises to be a
+most charming volume. I should attempt it, however, with trembling,
+because, to do it really well, one should be, first of all, a scholar,
+if only to appreciate things said and spoken, and in order to connect
+the illustrious past with food and drink. Next, he ought to be still
+young: he certainly must have a proper feeling for wine, and must
+certainly understand when and why one should be grateful to good Master
+Cook: he should be a past or present master in the Art of Love and a
+squire of Dames: he should be good at conversation: he must, in the old
+language, be a worshipper of Bacchus, Venus, Phoebus Apollo, the Muses
+nine and the Graces three. He must be no poor weakling, unable to enjoy
+the good creatures of flesh, fowl, fish, and wine: no boor: and no log
+insensible to loveliness.
+
+Dinner, which should be a science, has long been treated as one of the
+Fine Arts. Now every Fine Art, as we all know, has its fashions and its
+caprices. Those who are old enough to remember the dinners of twenty,
+thirty, or forty years ago can remember many of their fashions and
+caprices. In the Thirties, for instance, everything was carved upon the
+table. It required a man with a strong wrist to give a dinner-party.
+Fortunately, a dinner then consisted of few dishes. They drank sherry
+with dinner, and port afterwards. The champagne, if there was any, was
+sweet. The guests were bidden for half-past six: they sat down to dinner
+before seven. At eight the ladies went up-stairs: at half-past ten the
+men joined them. Their faces were flushed, their shoulders were inclined
+to lurch, and their speech was the least bit thick. Wonderful to relate,
+brandy-and-water used to be served to these topers in the drawing-room
+itself.
+
+Mr. Dering had altered little in his dinner customs. They mostly
+belonged to the Sixties, with a survival of some belonging to the
+Thirties. Things were carved upon the sideboard: this was in deference
+to modern custom: champagne formed an integral part of the meal: but the
+dinner itself was solid: the cloth after dinner was removed, leaving the
+dark polished mahogany after the old fashion: the furniture of the room
+was also in the old style: the chairs were heavy and solid: the walls
+were hung with a dark crimson paper of velvety texture: the curtains and
+the carpets were red: there were pictures of game and fruit: the
+sideboard was as solid as the table.
+
+Checkley the clerk, who was invited as a faithful servant of the House,
+to the celebration of the new partnership, was the first to arrive.
+Dressed in a hired suit, he looked like an undertaker's assistant: the
+gloom upon his face heightened the resemblance. Why the partnership
+caused this appearance of gloom, I know not. Certainly, he could never
+expect to be made a partner himself. It was perhaps a species of
+jealousy which filled his soul. He would no longer know so much of the
+business.
+
+George came with the Mother-in-law Elect and the _fiancée_. Forgiveness,
+Peace, Amnesty, and Charity sat all together upon the brow of the elder
+lady. She was magnificent in a dark crimson velvet, and she had a good
+deal of gold about her arms and neck. Jewish ladies are said to show, by
+the magnificence of their attire, the prosperity of the business. Why
+not? It is a form of enjoying success. There are many forms: one man
+buys books: let him buy books. Another collects pictures. Why not? One
+woman wears crimson velvet. Why not? In this way she enjoys her wealth
+and proclaims it. Again, why not? It seems to the philosopher a fond and
+vain thing to deck the person at all times, and especially fond when the
+person is middle-aged and no longer beautiful. We are not all
+philosophers. There are many middle-aged men who are extremely happy to
+put on their uniform and their medals and their glittering helmets. Mrs.
+Arundel wore her velvet as if she enjoyed the colour of it, the richness
+of it, the light and shade that lay in its folds, and the soft feel of
+it. She wore it, too, as an outward sign that this was a great occasion.
+Her daughter, Lady Dering, came also arrayed in a queenly dress of amber
+silk with an aigrette of feathers in her hair. To be sure, she was going
+on somewhere after the dinner. Elsie, for her part, came in a creamy
+white almost like a bride: but she looked much happier than most brides.
+Hilda's husband, Sir Samuel, who was some six or seven years younger
+than his brother, was in appearance a typical man of wealth. The rich
+man can no longer, as in the days of good old Sir Thomas Gresham,
+illustrate his riches by costly furs, embroidered doublets, and heavy
+chains. He has to wear broadcloth and black. Yet there is an air, a
+carriage, which belongs to the rich man. In appearance, Sir Samuel was
+tall, like his brother, but not thin like him: he was corpulent: his
+face was red: he was bald, and he wore large whiskers, dyed black.
+The late dissensions were completely forgotten. Hilda embraced her
+sister fondly. 'My dear,' she whispered, 'we have heard all.
+Everything--everything is changed by these fortunate events. They do you
+the greatest credit.--George'--she took his hand and held it
+tenderly--'I cannot tell you how happy this news has made us all. You
+will be rich in the course of years. Sir Samuel was only saying, as we
+came along----'
+
+'I was saying, young gentleman,' the Knight interrupted, 'that the most
+beautiful thing about money is the way it develops character. We do not
+ask for many virtues--only honesty and diligence--from the poor. When a
+man acquires wealth we look for his better qualities.'
+
+'Yes, indeed,' Hilda murmured. 'His better qualities begin to
+show.--Elsie, dear, that is a very pretty frock. I don't think I have
+seen it before. How do you like my dress?'
+
+George accepted this sudden turn in opinion with smiles. He laughed at
+it afterwards. For the moment it made him feel almost as if he was being
+rewarded for some virtuous action.
+
+Dinner was announced at seven--such were the old-fashioned manners of
+this old gentleman. He led in Mrs. Arundel, and placed Elsie on his
+left. At first, the dinner promised to be a silent feast. The two lovers
+were not disposed to talk much--they had not yet recovered from the
+overwhelming and astonishing events of the day. Sir Samuel never talked
+at the beginning of dinner--besides, there was turtle soup and red
+mullet and whitebait--it is sinful to divert your attention from these
+good creatures. His wife never talked at dinner or at any other time
+more than she could help. Your statuesque beauty seldom does. Talking
+much involves smiling and even laughing, which distorts the face. A
+woman must encourage men to talk: this she can do without saying much
+herself.
+
+Presently Mr. Dering roused himself and began to talk, with a visible
+effort, first to Mrs. Arundel of things casual: then to Elsie: and then
+to his brother, but always with an effort, as if he was thinking of
+other things. And a constraint fell upon the party.
+
+When the cloth was removed and the wine and fruit placed upon the dark
+and lustrous board, he filled a glass and made a kind little speech.
+
+'My Partner,'he said, 'I drink to you. May your connection with the
+House be prosperous! It is a very great good fortune for me to have
+found such a Partner.--Elsie, I join you with my Partner. I wish you
+both every happiness.'
+
+He drained the bumper and sent round the decanters.
+
+Then he began to talk, and his discourse was most strange. 'Had it
+been,' said his brother afterwards, 'the idle fancies of some
+crackbrained writing fellow, I could have understood it; but from
+him--from a steady old solicitor--a man who has never countenanced any
+kind of nonsense--to be sure he said it was only an illusion. I hope it
+isn't a softening. Who ever heard of such a man as that having dreams
+and illusions?'
+
+Certainly no one had ever before heard Mr. Dering talk in this new
+manner. As a rule, he was silent and grave even at the head of his own
+table. He spoke little and then gravely. To-night his talk as well as
+his face was changed. Who would have thought that Mr. Dering should
+confess to illusions, and should relate dreams, and should be visited by
+such dreams? Remember that the speaker was seventy-five years of age,
+and that he had never before been known so much as to speak of
+benevolence. Then you will understand something of the bewilderment
+which fell upon the whole company.
+
+He began by raising his head and smiling with a strange and new
+benignity--but Elsie thought of her portrait. 'We are all one family
+here,' he said; 'and I may talk. I want to tell you of a very remarkable
+thing that has recently happened to me. It has been growing, I now
+perceive, for some years. But it now holds me strongly, and it is one
+reason why I am anxious to have the affairs of the House in the hands of
+a younger man. For it may be a sign of the end. At seventy-five anything
+uncommon may be a sign.'
+
+'You look well, Mr. Dering, and as strong as most men of sixty,' said
+Mrs. Arundel.
+
+'Perhaps. I feel well and strong. The fact is that I am troubled--or
+pleased--or possessed--by an Illusion.'
+
+'You with an Illusion?' said his brother.
+
+'I myself. An Illusion possesses me. It whispers me from time to time
+that my life is wholly spent in promoting the happiness of other
+people.'
+
+'Well,' said his brother, 'since you are a first-class solicitor, and
+manage the affairs of many people very much to their advantage, you
+certainly do promote their happiness.'
+
+'Yes, yes--I suppose so. My Illusion further is that it is done outside
+my business--without any bill afterwards'--Checkley looked up with eyes
+wide open--'I am made to believe that I am working and living for the
+good of others. A curious Illusion, is it not?'
+
+The City man shook his head. 'That any man can possibly live for the
+good of others is, I take it, always and under all circumstances an
+Illusion. In the present state of society--and a very admirable state it
+is'--he rolled his bald head as he spoke and his voice had a rich roll
+in it--'a man's first duty--his second duty--his third duty--his
+hundredth duty--is to himself. In the City it is his business to amass
+wealth--to roll it up--roll it up'--he expressed the words with
+feeling--'to invest it profitably--to watch it, and to nurse it as it
+fructifies--fructifies. Afterwards, when he is rich enough, if ever a
+man can be rich enough, he may exercise as much charity as he
+pleases--as he pleases. Charity seems to please some people as a glass
+of fine wine'--he illustrated the comparison--'pleases the
+palate--pleases the palate.'
+
+The lawyer listened politely and inclined his head.
+
+'There is at least some method in my Illusion,' he went on. 'You
+mentioned it. The solicitor is always occupied with the conduct of other
+people's affairs. That must be admitted. He is always engaged in
+considering how best to guide his fellow-man through the labyrinthine
+world. He receives his fellow-man at his entrance into the world, as a
+ward: he receives him grown up, as a client: he advises him all his life
+at every step and in every emergency. If the client goes into
+partnership, or marries, or buys a house, or builds one, or gets into
+trouble, the solicitor assists and advises him. When the client grows
+old, the solicitor makes his will. When the client dies, the solicitor
+becomes his executor and his trustee, and administers his estate for
+him. It is thus a life, as I said, entirely spent for other people. I
+know not of any other, unless it be of medicine, that so much can be
+said. And think what terrors, what anxieties, what disappointments, the
+solicitor witnesses and alleviates! Think of the family scandals he
+hushes up and keeps secret! Good heavens! if a solicitor in large
+practice were to tell what he knows, think of the terrible disclosures!
+He knows every thing. He knows more than a Roman Catholic priest,
+because his penitents not only reveal their own sins but also those of
+their wives and sons and friends and partners. And anxiety, I may tell
+you, makes a man better at confessing than penitence. Sometimes we bring
+actions at law and issue writs and so forth. Well now: this part of our
+business, which is disagreeable to us, is actually the most beneficent
+of any. Because, by means of the cases brought before the High Court of
+Justice, we remind the world that it must be law abiding as well as law
+worthy. The Law, in order to win respect, must first win fear. Force
+comes before order. The memory of force must be kept up. The presence
+of force must be felt. For instance, I have a libel case just begun. It
+is rather a bad libel. My libeller will suffer: he will bleed: but he
+will bleed for the public good, because thousands who are only anxious
+to libel and slander, to calumniate and defame their neighbours, will be
+deterred. Oh! it will be a most beneficent case--far reaching--striking
+terror into the hearts of ill-doers.--Well--this, my friends, is my
+Illusion. It is, I suppose, one of the many Illusions with which we
+cheat old age and rob it of its terrors. To everybody else I am a
+hard-fisted lawyer, exacting his pound of flesh from the unfortunate
+debtor, and making myself rich at the expense of the creditor.'
+
+'Nonsense about how a man gets rich,' said the man of business. 'He can
+only get rich if he is capable. Quite right. Let the weak go under. Let
+the careless and the lazy starve.'
+
+'At the same time,' said Elsie softly, 'it is not all illusion. There
+are others besides the careless and the lazy----'
+
+'Sometimes,' the old lawyer went on, 'this Illusion of mine--oh! I know
+it is only Illusion--takes the form of a dream--so vivid that it comes
+back to me afterwards as a reality. In this dream, which is always the
+same, I seem to have been engaged in some great scheme of practical
+benevolence.'
+
+'Practical---- What? You engaged in Practical Benevolence?' the City man
+asked in profound astonishment. The Illusion was astonishing enough; but
+to have his brother talk of practical benevolence was amazing indeed.
+
+'Practical benevolence,' repeated Mr. Dering. His voice dropped. His
+eyes looked out into space: he seemed as one who narrates a story. 'It
+is a curiously persistent dream. It comes at irregular intervals; it
+pleases me while it lasts.--Oh! in the evening after dinner, while one
+takes a nap in the easy chair, perhaps--it is, as I said, quite vivid.
+The action of this dream always takes place in the same room--a large
+room, plainly furnished, and looking out upon an open space--I should
+know it if I saw it--and it fills me with pleasure--in my dream--just to
+feel that I am--there is no other word for it--diffusing happiness. How
+I manage this diffusion, I can never remember; but there it is--good
+solid happiness, such as, in waking moments, one feels to be
+impossible.'
+
+'Diffusing happiness--you!' said his brother.
+
+'A very beautiful dream,' said Elsie. But no one dared to look in each
+other's face.
+
+'This strange dream of mine,' continued Mr. Dering, 'does not form part
+of that little Illusion, though it seems connected with it. And as I
+said, mostly it comes in the evening. The other day, however, I had it
+in the afternoon--went to sleep in my office, I suppose.--Did you find
+me asleep, Checkley? It was on Friday.'
+
+'No. On Friday afternoon you went out.'
+
+'Ah! When I came back, then-- I had forgotten that I went out. Did I go
+out? Strange! Never mind. This continuous dream opens up a world of new
+ideas and things which are, I perceive, when I am awake, quite unreal
+and illusory. Yet they please. I see myself, as I said, diffusing
+happiness with open hands. The world which is thus made happier consists
+entirely of poor people. I move among them unseen: I listen to them: I
+see what they do, and I hear what they say. Mind--all this is as real
+and true to me as if it actually happened. And it fills me with
+admiration of the blessed state of poverty. In my dream I pity the rich,
+with all my heart. To get rich, I think--in this dream--they must have
+practised so many deceptions----'
+
+'Brother! brother!' Sir Samuel held up both hands.
+
+'In my dream--only in my dream. Those who inherit riches are burdened
+with the weight of their wealth, which will not suffer them to enter
+into the arena; will not allow them to develop and to exercise their
+talents, and afflicts them with the mental and bodily diseases that
+belong to indolence. The poor, on the other hand, who live from day to
+day, sometimes out of work for weeks together, practise easily the
+simple virtues of brotherly love, charity, and mutual helpfulness. They
+have learned to combine for the good of all rather than to fight, one
+against another, for selfish gain. It is the only world where all are
+borrowing and lending, giving and helping.'
+
+'Brother, this dream of yours is like a socialistic tract.'
+
+'It may be. Yet you see how strongly it takes hold of me, that while I
+see the absurdity of the whole thing, it is not unpleasing to recall the
+recollection of it. Well--I do not know what set me talking about this
+dream.'
+
+The smiles left his face: he became grave again: he ceased to talk: for
+the rest of the evening he was once more the old solicitor, weighed down
+with the affairs of other people.
+
+'Checkley'--it was on the doorstep, and Sir Samuel waited while his wife
+said a few fond things to her sister--'what the devil came over my
+brother to-night?'
+
+'I don't know indeed, Sir Samuel. I never heard him talk like that
+before. Doin' good to 'em? Servin' a writ upon 'em is more our line. I
+think he must be upset somewhere in his inside, and it's gone to his
+head.'
+
+'Practical benevolence! Living for other people! Have you heard him
+complain of anything?'
+
+'No, Sir Samuel. He never complains. Eats hearty, walks upright and
+strong, works like he always has worked.--Doin' good! And the
+blessedness of being pore! Seems most wonderful. Blessedness of being
+pore! Well, Sir Samuel, I've enjoyed that blessedness myself, and I know
+what it's like. Any or'nary preachin' chap might talk that nonsense; but
+for your eminent brother, Sir Samuel, such a lawyer as him--to be
+talking such stuff--if I may humbly so speak of my learned master's
+words--it is--Sir Samuel--it really is amazing!'
+
+'He said it was a dream, remember. But I agree with you, Checkley.--It
+is amazing.'
+
+'Humph! The blessedness of being pore! And over such a glass of port,
+too! I thought I should ha' rolled off my chair--I did, indeed.--Here's
+your good lady, Sir Samuel.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'Elsie,' said Mrs. Arundel in the carriage, 'I think it was high time
+that Mr. Dering should take a partner. He to dream of practical
+benevolence! He to be diffusing happiness with open hands! Oh! most
+lamentable--I call it. However, the deeds are signed, and we are all
+right. In case of anything happening, it is a comfort to think that
+George's position would be only improved.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+AT THE GATES OF PARADISE
+
+
+Many women have advanced the doctrine that the happiest time of life is
+that of their engagement. Of course no man can possibly understand this
+theory; but from a woman's point of view it can be defended, because it
+is for some girls the most delightful thing in the world to be wooed;
+and until the church service is actually said and the ring is on the
+finger, the bride is Queen and Mistress; afterwards--not always. But the
+happiness of it depends upon its being a courtship without obstacles.
+Now, in the case of the young couple whose fortunes we are following,
+there was plenty of love with excellent wooing; but the engagement had
+been opposed by the whole tribe of Arundels, so that every time she met
+her lover it was in open rebellion against her mother. To go home from a
+walk with him only to find the silence of resentment at home was not
+pleasant. Again, we have seen how they were looking forward to a life of
+poverty--even of privation. Dame Penury with her pinching ways and
+shrewish tongue was going to be their constant lodger. Then the young
+man could not choose but ask himself whether he was not a selfish beast
+to take a girl out of plenty into privation. And the girl could not
+choose but ask herself whether she was not selfish in laying this great
+burden upon the back of her lover. No one can be indifferent to such a
+prospect: no one can contemplate with pleasure the cheeseparings, the
+savings, the management of such a life: no one can like having to make a
+penny do the work of sixpence: no one can rejoice as one steps down,
+down, down the social ladder: no one can anticipate with satisfaction
+the loss of gentlehood for the daughters, and the loss of an adequate
+education for the sons.
+
+'You will make me happy,' said the lover, 'at the cost of everything
+that makes life happy for yourself.'
+
+'If I make you happy,' said the girl, 'I ask for nothing more. But oh! I
+am laying a heavy burden upon you. Can you bear it? Will you never blame
+me if the burden is greater than you can bear?'
+
+And now all the trouble vanished like a cloud from the morning
+sky--vanished so completely that there was not a trace of it left
+anywhere. The accusing figure of her mother was changed into a smiling
+face of pleased and satisfied maternity: reproaches were turned into
+words of endearment, angry looks to presents and caresses. And as for
+her sister, you might have thought that all this good fortune was
+actually achieved and conquered by Elsie--otherwise, how could one
+justify the praise and flattery that Hilda now lavished upon her? She
+gave a great dinner as a kind of official reception of the bridegroom
+into the family; she also gave a dance, at which she herself was the
+most beautiful woman--she stood in a conspicuous place all the evening,
+magnificently dressed, statuesque, wonderful: and Elsie was the
+prettiest girl at the party; but between the most beautiful woman and
+the prettiest girl was a difference! There is nothing like good fortune
+to bring out a girl's good qualities: Elsie had always had friends, now
+she might have numbered them by hundreds. Good fortune breeds friends as
+the sunshine creates the flowers. She was congratulated, caressed, and
+flattered enough to turn her head. Now, girls are so constituted that
+they love admiration, which is a kind of affection, even when it takes
+the form of flattery: and their heads may be easily turned; but they are
+as easily turned back again. And the house--the widow's house--which for
+so many years had been so dull and quiet a place, was transformed into a
+place of entertainment. It only wanted coloured lamps to make it another
+Vauxhall: it was crowded every night with the younger friends of bride
+and bridegroom. George had many friends. He was gregarious by nature: he
+was a rowing man on the athletic side: he had a healthy love and a light
+hand for things like billiards, shooting, and fishing: they are tastes
+which assist in the creation of friendships.
+
+These friends--young fellows of like mind--came to the house in
+multitudes to rally round the man about to desert their ranks. Young men
+are forgiving: George would row no more among them: he would be lost to
+the billiard table, and to the club itself: yet they forgave him, and
+accepted his invitation and went to see the bride. They found her with
+the friends of her own age. Heavens! how the daring of one man in taking
+away a maiden from the band encourages others! There are six love
+stories at least, all rising out of these evenings, and all of
+surpassing interest, had one the time to write them. They are both grave
+and gay: there are tears in every one: the course of true love in no
+case ran smooth except in the Story of the Two Stupids. Love's enemies
+can never effect aught against a Stupid, and so these two Stupids became
+engaged without opposition, and were married with acclamations; but they
+are too Stupid--perhaps--to know their own happiness.
+
+All this went on for three weeks. It was arranged that the happy pair
+should be married in the middle of August: they had resolved to spend
+their honeymoon in France, staying a few days in Paris, and then going
+on to see the towns and the country along the Loire, with the old city
+of Tours for their centre. They proposed to live entirely upon fruit and
+wine and kisses. No place in the world like Touraine for those who are
+so young, and so much in love, and so perfectly satisfied with so simple
+a diet. Even for those who take a cutlet with the fruit and the wine,
+there is no place equal to Touraine. Meantime, against the home-coming,
+a desirable flat was secured, not one of your little economical flats,
+all drawing-room with two or three rabbit-hutches for bedrooms, but a
+large and highly decorated flat with all the newest appliances, large
+rooms, and a lift and plenty of space for the dinner-parties and
+receptions which Elsie would have to give. The servants were engaged.
+The furniture was ordered, all in the advanced taste of the
+day--carpets, curtains, pictures, over-mantels, cabinets, screens. Elsie
+went every day to her new home and found something omitted, and sat down
+in it to wonder what it would be like--this new life she was entering
+upon. Oh! it was a busy time.--Then there was her trousseau--everybody
+knows the amount of thought and care required for a trousseau: this was
+approaching completion--everybody knows the happiness, peculiar, and
+unlike any other kind of happiness, with which a girl contemplates a
+heap of 'things,' all her own. I suppose that it is only at her wedding
+that she can enjoy this happiness, for afterwards, the 'things' are not
+her own, but the things of the family. The bride's dress, another thing
+of supreme importance, had been tried on, though as yet it was very,
+very far from being finished. The bridesmaids, two of George's sisters,
+had also already tried on their dresses. They came every day, two very
+sweet girls, who have both to do with those six love stories which will
+never, I fear, be told, to talk over the events and to see the presents.
+These came in daily, and were laid out in a room by themselves, looking
+very splendid: their splendour proved the wealth and the position of the
+pair, because rich presents are only given to rich people.
+
+In a word, everybody was heartily, loyally sympathetic, as if to make up
+for the previous harshness and coldness. For four weeks this happiness
+lasted! It was on Monday, June 29, that the golden shower descended upon
+them: it was on Monday, July 20, that the rain of gold ceased, and
+another kind of cloud came up which speedily changed into a driving
+storm of rain and sleet and hail and ice and snow.
+
+Look at them on Sunday. Before the storm there is generally a brief time
+of sunshine, warm and fine: after the storm, the calm that follows is a
+time of dismay, speechless and tearless. Sunday was the day before the
+storm: it was a day of sunshine without and within. The lovers spent the
+whole day together, hand in hand. They went to church together: they sat
+side by side, they warbled off the same hymn book. The service proved,
+as the preacher used to say, a season of refreshment, for never doth
+religion so uplift the soul as when it is entirely happy: the voices of
+the choir chanting the psalms filled them with joy, and would have done
+so even if they had been penitential minors, and the lamentation of a
+sinner. Their hearts rose higher and higher as the preacher exhorted,
+and would have flown upwards just as much whether he had brandished the
+terrors of the law or held out the gracious promise of the Gospel. For
+you see, at such a time as this, whatever was said or done only led this
+faithful pair farther and deeper into the shady glades and fragrant
+lawns and flowery dells of Love's Paradise.
+
+Every church, at every service, and especially in the evening, contains
+many such lovers. You may know them by certain infallible signs. They
+sit very close together: they sing off the same book: their faces betray
+by the rigidity of their attitude, which is that of pretended attention,
+the far-away expression of their eyes, and the absence of any external
+sign of emotion or sympathy with the preacher, that their hands, beneath
+some folds of the feminine gabardine, are closely clasped. It has
+sometimes pleased the philosopher and relieved the tedium of a dull
+sermon to look round the congregation and to pick out the lovers--here a
+pair and there a pair. Even in the church, you see, Love is conqueror
+and king.
+
+These lovers, therefore, went to church in a frame of mind truly
+heavenly: nobody in the whole congregation felt more deeply pious: every
+response was an Act of Praise: every prayer an Act of Gratitude: every
+hymn a personal Thank-offering. But beneath those seemingly calm faces
+was flying and rushing a whirlwind of hopes, memories, plans, projects,
+and gratitudes. He who looks back upon the days immediately before his
+wedding-day--most men no more remember their own emotions than a child
+remembers yesterday's earache--will wonder how he lived through that
+time of change, when all that he prayed for was granted, but on the
+condition of a turning upside down of all his habits, customs, and
+petted ways.
+
+All round them sat the people, no doubt with minds wholly attuned to the
+service of Prayer and Praise. Well, the sheep in a flock to outward
+seeming are all alike, yet every animal has his own desires and small
+ambitions for himself. So I suppose with the congregation. As every man
+shuts the street door behind him and trudges along the way to
+church--the _Via Sacra_--with wife and children, he carries in his
+waistcoat pocket, close to his heart, a little packet of business cares
+to think upon during the sermon. And if all the thoughts of all the
+people could be collected after the sermon instead of the offertory,
+they would make a salutary oblation indeed.
+
+'George,' said Elsie, as they came out, 'let us go into the Gardens and
+sit under a tree and talk. Let us get away from everybody for half an
+hour.'
+
+Kensington Gardens were filled with the customary throng of those who,
+like themselves, had been to church. The carping philosopher says unkind
+things about Church, and Gardens, and Fashion. As if Church would ever
+keep like from congregating with like! There were shoals of beautiful
+girls, dressed as well as they knew or could afford: dozens of young
+fellows, and with them the no longer quite so young, the no longer
+young, the no longer young at all, the middle-aged, the elderly and the
+old, not to speak of the children. Elsie looked up and down the walk.
+'We are never so much alone as in a crowd,' she said, with the air that
+some girls assume of saying an original thing which no woman ever did
+say yet, unless by accident. They joined the stream: presently George
+led the girl out of the road and across the grass to a place where two
+or three chairs were set under the trees. They sat down. Then occurred
+the miracle wrought in these gardens every day and all day long. Out of
+the ground sprang a man--for such he seemed, though doubtless a
+spirit-messenger--who demanded twopence. This paid, he vanished
+straightway. After this ceremony they talked.
+
+'George,' said the girl, 'every day now, wherever I am, even at church,
+I feel as if I should like to jump up and sing and dance. This morning I
+should have liked a service all to ourselves--you to read and I to sing:
+you to pray and I to praise. I kept wondering if there was any girl in
+the place so happy as myself--or so unhappy as I was three short weeks
+ago.'
+
+'Elsie,' said George--a simple thing to say, but it had a thousand
+meanings.
+
+'We have not deserved it. Indeed, indeed--we have not. Why are we
+singled out for such joy? We already had the greatest thing of all--we
+had love. That is happiness enough for some women. We only wanted a
+little more money, and now we have all this great fortune.'
+
+'It is wonderful, Elsie!'
+
+She laid her hand on his and spoke in her sweet low voice, gazing
+upwards. 'George! I am so happy, that I want everybody else to be happy
+as well. The angels, I am sure, must lose some of their joy in wishing
+that all were with them. I pity all those poor girls who have no lovers:
+all those poor married people who are lying in poverty: all those poor
+creatures who are trying for what they cannot get; all those who are
+weeping outside the gates of Heaven. George, it is a beautiful world,
+and it should be such a happy world: there should be nothing but joy all
+through life. There is such an abundance of happiness possible in it.
+Sadness is only a passing cloud: anxiety is only a touch of east wind:
+evil and pain are only fleeting shadows.'
+
+She sighed and clasped her hands, and the tears rose to her eyes.
+
+'We shall grow old together, George,' she went on, murmuring rather than
+speaking.--I omit her lover's interruptions and interjections.--'You
+will always love me, long after my beauty--you know you will call it
+beauty, George--is past and gone: even when I am a poor old crone
+doubled up in my arm-chair: you will always love me. My life will be
+full--full--full of love. Perhaps----' Here her face flushed, and she
+stopped. 'We shall have no trouble about money: we shall go on always
+learning more and more, growing wiser and wiser and wiser. You will be a
+wise and good man, thinking and working all your life for other people,
+just as Mr. Dering imagined--three weeks ago. Everybody will love and
+respect you. Then you will grow grey-headed, you poor, dear boy; and all
+the world will say how wise and strong you are; and I shall be prouder
+of my old husband than even I was of my young lover. The life that
+others have dreamed, we shall live. Every day shall come laden with its
+own joy, so that we would not, if we could help it, suffer it to go
+away.' She struck a deeper note, and her voice trembled and sank and her
+eyes filled with tears: 'Life shall be all happiness, as God intended
+for us. Even Death will be little sorrow, for the separation will be so
+short.' Once more she laid her hand on his.
+
+Even to the most frivolous, the prospect of the wedded life awakens
+grave and solemn thoughts: for those who have eyes to see and ears to
+hear and brains to understand, there is no prospect so charged with
+chances and possibilities, where even life itself may become a Death in
+Life.
+
+When George left her in the evening, he drove to see Athelstan.
+
+'So,' he said, 'you have been courting all day, I suppose. You ought to
+have had enough of it. Sit down and have something--a pipe--a
+cigar.--Well--you are going to be very jolly, I suppose. Elsie's little
+fortune will help a bit, won't it?'
+
+'I should think so, indeed.'
+
+'Yes--I've been very glad, ever since you told me that the child had had
+this stroke of luck. I wonder who gave her the money? To be sure, there
+is plenty of money knocking about among the Arundels. Most of us have
+had a sort of instinct for making money. Put us down anywhere among a
+lot of men in a city, and we begin to transfer the contents of their
+pockets to our own.'
+
+'Meanwhile, give up this old resentment. Come back to your own people.
+Come to our wedding.'
+
+'I cannot possibly, unless you will tell me who forged that cheque. How
+could I go back to people who still believe me guilty? When you are
+married, I will go and see Elsie, which I can do with a light heart. You
+have not told any one about my return?'
+
+'Certainly not. No one suspects, and no one talks or thinks about you.'
+
+Athelstan laughed a little. 'That is a doubtful piece of information. Am
+I to rejoice or to weep, because I am completely forgotten and out of
+mind? It is rather humiliating, isn't it?'
+
+'You are not forgotten at all. That is a different thing. Only they do
+not speak of you.'
+
+'Well, George, never mind that now. I am glad you came to-night, because
+I have some news for you. I have found the commissionaire who took the
+cheque to the Bank--actually found the man.'
+
+'No! After all these years?'
+
+'I wrote out the particulars of the case--briefly. Yesterday I took the
+paper to the commissionaires' barrack in the Strand and offered a reward
+for the recovery of the man who had cashed the cheque. That same evening
+the man presented himself and claimed the reward. He remembered the
+thing very well--for this reason: the gentleman who employed him first
+sent him with a bag to a Parcel Delivery Office: he did not look at the
+address. The gentleman was staying at the Cecil Hotel. Now the
+commissionaire was a one-armed man. Because he had only one arm, the
+gentleman--who was a pleasant-spoken gentleman--gave him ten shillings
+for his trouble, which was nine shillings more than his proper pay. The
+gentleman sent him to the Bank with this cheque to cash, and he returned
+with seven hundred and twenty pounds in ten-pound notes. Then it was
+that the gentleman--who seems to have been a free-handed gentleman--gave
+him the ten shillings. The man says that he would know that gentleman
+anywhere. He was old, and had grey hair. He says that he should know him
+wherever he saw him. What do you think of that?'
+
+'Well--it is something, if you could find that old man.'
+
+'Why, of course it was Checkley--grey-haired Checkley. We'll catch that
+old fox, yet. Beware of Checkley. He's a Fox. He's a Worm. He's a
+creeping Centipede. When the old man goes, you must make Checkley
+pack.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+A MYSTERIOUS DISCOVERY
+
+
+On Monday morning the Unexpected happened. It came with more than common
+malignity. In fact, nothing more threatening to the persons chiefly
+concerned in the calamity could have happened, though at first they were
+happily spared the comprehension of its full significance.
+
+There is a wide-spread superstition--so wide that it must be true--that
+at those rare moments when one feels foolishly happy, at peace with all
+the world, at peace with one's own conscience, all injuries forgiven,
+the future stretched out before like a sunlit peaceful lake, some
+disaster, great or small, is certainly imminent. 'Don't feel too happy,'
+says Experience Universal. The Gods resent the happiness of man. Affect
+a little anxiety. Assume a certain sadness. Restrain that dancing leg.
+If you must shake it, do so as if by accident, or as if in terror--for
+choice, shake it over an open grave in the churchyard. Stop singing that
+song of joy; try the Lamentation of a Sinner instead. So will the Gods
+be deceived. Above all, never allow yourself to believe that the Devil
+is dead. He is not even asleep. By carefully observing these
+precautions, a great many misfortunes may be averted. If, for instance,
+George had gone home soberly on Sunday night instead of carrying on like
+a schoolboy in playtime, obviously happy, and so inviting calamity,
+perhaps he would never have been connected--as he afterwards
+became--with this disaster.
+
+You have heard that Mr. Dering was a man of method. Every morning he
+arrived at his office at a quarter before ten: he hung up his coat and
+hat in a recess behind the door: he then opened his safe with his own
+hand. Checkley had already laid out the table with a clean blotting-pad,
+pens, and letter-paper: he had also placed the letters of the day upon
+the pad. The reading of the letters began the day's work. The lawyer
+read them, made notes upon them, rang for his shorthand clerk, and
+dictated answers. These dispatched, he turned to the standing business.
+This morning, with the usual routine, he was plodding through the
+letters of the day, taking up one after the other, and reading half
+mechanically. Presently he opened one, and looked at the heading. 'Ellis
+& Northcote,' he said. 'What do they want?' Then he suddenly stopped
+short and started. Then he began the letter again, and again he stopped
+short. It was from his brokers in the City, and it recommended a certain
+advantageous investment. That was not in itself very extraordinary. But
+it contained the following remarkable passage: 'You have made such great
+transfers and so many sales during the last few months that you have
+probably more profitable uses for money in your own business. But if you
+should have a few thousands available at the present moment, it is a
+most favourable opportunity----'
+
+'Great transfers and many sales?' asked Mr. Dering, bewildered. 'What
+transfers? What sales does he mean?'
+
+He turned over the pages of his Diary. He could find no transactions of
+the kind at all. Then he reflected again. 'I can remember no transfers,'
+he murmured. 'Is this another trick of memory?'
+
+Finally, he touched the bell upon his table.
+
+'Checkley,' said Mr. Dering, on the appearance of the ancient clerk, 'I
+have got a letter that I don't understand at all. I told you that my
+memory was going. Now you see. Here is a letter about transfers and
+sales of stock. What transfers? I don't understand one word of it. My
+memory is not only going--it is gone.'
+
+'Memory going? Nonsense,' the old man shook his head. 'No--no; your
+memory is all right. Mine is as clear as a bell. So's yours. You eat
+hearty. So do I. You sleep well. So do I. We're both as hale and hearty
+as ever.'
+
+'No--no. My memory is not what it was. I've told you so a dozen times. I
+lose myself sometimes. Yesterday, when the clock struck twelve, I
+thought it was only ten. I had lost two hours. And sometimes when I walk
+home, I lose recollection of the walk afterwards.'
+
+'Tut, tut; nobody of your age is such a young man as you. Why, you walk
+like five-and-twenty. And you eat hearty--you eat very hearty.' His
+words were encouraging, but he looked anxiously at his master. Truly,
+there was no apparent decay in Mr. Dering. He sat as upright: he looked
+as keen: he spoke as clearly, as ever.
+
+'Well--about this letter. My friend Ellis, of Ellis & Northcote, writes
+to me about something or other, and speaks of my effecting great
+transfers and sales of stock lately. What does he mean?'
+
+'You haven't bought or sold any stock lately, that I know of.'
+
+'Well, you would have known.--Have we had to make any investments for
+clients of late? There was the Dalton-Smith estate.'
+
+'That was eleven months ago.'
+
+'I suppose he must mean that--he can't mean anything else. Yes, that is
+it. Well--I've got a Partner now, so that it matters less than it would
+have done--had my memory played me tricks with no other responsible man
+in the place.'
+
+'You didn't want a partner,' said Checkley jealously. 'You had ME.'
+
+'He must mean that,' Mr. Dering repeated. 'He can't mean anything else.
+However--has my Bank book been made up lately?'
+
+'Here it is. Made up last Friday. Nothing been in or out since.'
+
+Mr. Dering had not looked at his book for three or four months. He was
+well served: his people took care of his Bank book. Now he opened it,
+and began to run his finger up and down the pages.
+
+'Checkley,' he said, 'what has happened to Newcastle Corporation Stock?
+The dividends were due some weeks ago. They are not paid yet. Is the
+town gone bankrupt? And--eh? Where is Wolverhampton? And--and----' He
+turned over the paper quickly. 'Checkley, there is something wrong with
+the book. Not a single dividend of anything entered for the last four
+months. There ought to have been about six hundred pounds in that time.'
+
+'Queer mistake,' said Checkley. 'I'll take the book round to the Bank,
+and have it corrected.'
+
+'A very gross and careless mistake, I call it. Tell the manager I said
+so. Let it be set right at once, Checkley--at once--and while you wait.
+And bring it back to me.'
+
+The Bank was in Chancery Lane, close to the office. The old clerk went
+off on his errand.
+
+'A very careless mistake,' the lawyer repeated; 'any clerk of mine who
+committed such a mistake should be dismissed at once.' In fact, the
+certainty of full and speedy justice kept Mr. Dering's clerks always at
+a high level of efficiency.
+
+He returned to the letters, apparently with no further uneasiness.
+
+After ten minutes, Checkley taking longer than he expected, Mr. Dering
+became aware that his attention was wandering. 'Great transfers and many
+sales,' he repeated. 'After all, he must mean the investment of that
+Dalton-Smith money. Yet that was only a single transaction. What can he
+mean? He must have made a mistake. He must be thinking of another
+client. It's his memory, not mine, that is confused. That's it--his
+memory.'
+
+The large open safe in the corner was filled with stacks of paper tied
+up and endorsed. These papers contained, among other things, the
+securities for the whole of Mr. Dering's private fortune, which was now
+very considerable. Even the greatest City magnate would feel for Mr.
+Dering the respect due to wealth if he knew the amount represented by
+the contents of that safe. There they were, the leases, agreements,
+mortgages, deeds, bonds, conveyances, shares, all the legal documents by
+which the wicked man is prevented from seizing and appropriating the
+rich man's savings. Formerly the rich man kept his money in a box with
+iron bands. He locked up the box and put it in a recess in the cellar
+contrived in the stone wall. If he was only a bourgeois, it was but a
+little box, and he put it in a secret place (but everybody knew the
+secret) at the head of his bed. If he were a peasant, he tied his money
+up in a clout and put it under the hearthstone. In any case, thieves
+broke in and stole those riches. Now, grown wiser, he has no box of
+treasures at all: he lends it all in various directions and to various
+associations and companies. Every rich man is a money-lender: he is
+either Shylock the Great or Shylock the Less, according to the amount he
+lends. Thieves can steal nothing but paper which is no use to them. As
+we grow wiser still, we shall have nothing at all in any house that can
+be of any use to any thief, because everything in the least valuable
+will have its papers, without the production of which nothing of value
+will be bought or sold. And all the gold and silver, whether forks or
+mugs, will be lodged in the Bank. Then everybody will become honest, and
+the Eighth Commandment will be forgotten.
+
+Among Mr. Dering's papers were share certificates, bonds, and scrip of
+various kinds, amounting in all to a great many thousands. Of this money
+a sum of nearly thirteen thousand pounds belonged to Elsie, but was
+still in her guardian's name. This, of course, was the fortune which had
+fallen so unexpectedly into the girl's hands. The rest, amounting to
+about twenty-five thousand pounds, was his own money. It represented of
+course only a part, only a small part, of his very respectable fortune.
+
+Mr. Dering, whose memory, if it was decaying, was certainly clear on
+some points, looked across the room at the open safe, and began to think
+of the papers representing their investments. He remembered perfectly
+all the different Corporation Stock. All the water, gas, railway shares,
+the Indian Stock and the Colonial Stock: the Debenture companies and the
+Trading companies. He was foolish, he thought, to be disturbed by a mere
+mistake of the broker: his recent lapses of memory had made him nervous:
+there could be nothing wrong: but that clerk at the Bank ought to be
+dismissed for carelessness. There could be nothing wrong: for the sake
+of assurance he would turn out the papers: but there could be nothing
+wrong.
+
+He knew very well where they were; everything in his office had its
+place: they were all tied up together in a bulky parcel, bestowed upon a
+certain shelf or compartment of the safe. He pushed back his chair, got
+up, and walked over to the safe.
+
+Strange! The papers were not in their place. Again he felt the former
+irritation at having forgotten something. It was always returning: every
+day he seemed to be forgetting something. But the certificates must be
+in the safe. He stood irresolutely looking at the piles of papers,
+trying to think how they could have been displaced. While he was thus
+wondering and gazing, Checkley came back, Bank-book in hand.
+
+'There is something wrong,' he said. 'No dividends at all have been paid
+to your account for the last three months. There is no mistake at the
+Bank. I've seen the manager, and he's looked into it, and says there
+can't be any mistake about the entries.'
+
+'No dividends? What is the meaning of it, Checkley? No dividends? Why,
+there's thirty-eight thousand pounds worth of stock. The certificates
+are kept here in the safe; only, for some reason or other, I can't find
+them at the moment. They must be in the safe somewhere. Just help me to
+find them, will you?'
+
+He began to search among the papers, at first a little anxiously, then
+nervously, then feverishly.
+
+'Where are they?' he cried, tossing over the bundles. 'They must be
+here. They must be here. Let us turn out the whole contents of the safe.
+We must find them. They have never been kept in any other place. Nobody
+has touched them or seen them except myself.'
+
+The old clerk pulled out all the papers in the safe and laid them in a
+great pile on the table. When there was nothing left in the safe, they
+began systematically to go through the whole. When they had finished,
+they looked at each other blankly.
+
+Everything was there except the certificates and scrip representing the
+investment of thirty-eight thousand pounds. These alone could not be
+found. They examined every packet: they opened every bundle of papers:
+they looked into every folded sheet of parchment or foolscap. The
+certificates were not in the safe. 'Well,' said the clerk at last,
+'they're not here, you see.--Now then!'
+
+In the midst of their perplexity happened a thing almost as surprising
+and quite as unexpected as the loss of the certificates. Among the
+papers was a small round parcel tied up with red tape. Checkley opened
+it. 'Bank-notes,' he said, and laid it aside. They were not at the
+moment looking for bank-notes, but for certificates. When he was
+satisfied that these were not in the safe, and had thrown, so to speak,
+the responsibility of finding out the cause of their absence upon his
+master, he took up once more this bundle. It was, as he had said, a
+bundle of bank-notes rolled up and tied round. He untied the knot and
+laid them flat, turning up the corners and counting. 'Curious,' he said;
+'they're all ten-pound notes--all ten-pound notes: there must be more
+than fifty of them. And the outside one is covered with dust. What are
+they?'
+
+'How should I know?' said Mr. Dering irritably. 'Give them to me.
+Bank-notes? There are no bank-notes in my safe.'
+
+'Forgotten!' the clerk murmured. 'Clients' money, perhaps. But the
+client would have asked for it. Five or six hundred pounds. How can five
+hundred pounds be forgotten? Even a Rothschild would remember five
+hundred pounds. Forgotten!' He glanced suspiciously at his master, and
+shook his head, fumbling among the papers.
+
+Mr. Dering snatched the bundle from his clerk. Truly, they were
+bank-notes--ten-pound bank-notes; and they had been forgotten. The clerk
+was right. There is no Firm in the world where a bundle worth five
+hundred pounds could be forgotten and no inquiry made after it. Mr.
+Dering stared blankly at them. 'Notes!' he cried--'notes! Ten-pound
+notes. What notes?--Checkley, how did these notes come here?'
+
+'If you don't know,' the clerk replied, 'nobody knows. You've got the
+key of the safe.'
+
+'Good Heavens!' If Mr. Dering had been twenty years younger, he would
+have jumped. Men of seventy-five are not allowed to jump. The dignity of
+age does not allow of jumping. 'This is most wonderful! Checkley, this
+is most mysterious!'
+
+'What is it?'
+
+'These notes--the Devil is in the safe to-day, I do believe. First the
+certificates are lost; that is, they can't be found--and next these
+notes turn up.'
+
+'What notes are they, then?'
+
+'They are nothing else than the bank-notes paid across the counter for
+that forged cheque of eight years ago. Oh! there is no doubt of it--none
+whatever. I remember the numbers--the consecutive numbers--seventy-two
+of them--seven hundred and twenty pounds. How did they get here? Who put
+them in? Checkley, I say, how did these notes get here?'
+
+He held the notes in his hand and asked these questions in pure
+bewilderment, and not in the expectation of receiving any reply.
+
+'The notes paid to that young gentleman when he forged the cheque,' said
+Checkley, 'must have been put back in the safe by him. There's no other
+way to account for it. He was afraid to present them. He heard you say
+they were stopped, and he put them back. I think I see him doing it.
+While he was flaring out, he done it--I'm sure I see him doing it.'
+
+Mr. Dering received this suggestion without remark. He laid down the
+notes and stared at his clerk. The two old men stared blankly at each
+other. Perhaps Checkley's countenance, of the two, expressed the greater
+astonishment.
+
+'How did those notes get into the safe?' the lawyer repeated. 'This is
+even a more wonderful thing than the mislaying of the certificates. You
+took them out. Show me exactly where they were lying.'
+
+'They were behind these books. See! the outside note is covered with
+dust.'
+
+'They must have been lying there all these years. In my safe! The very
+notes paid across the counter to the forger's messenger! In my safe!
+What does this mean? I feel as if I was going mad. I say-- What does all
+this mean, Checkley?'
+
+The clerk made answer slowly, repeating his former suggestion.
+
+'Since young Arundel forged the cheque, young Arundel got the notes.
+Since young Arundel got the notes, young Arundel must have put them
+back. No one else could. When young Arundel put them back, he done it
+because he was afraid of your finding out. He put them back unseen by
+you that day when you charged him with the crime.'
+
+'I did not charge him. I have charged no one.'
+
+'I charged him, then, and you did not contradict. I'd charge him again
+if he was here.'
+
+'Any man may charge anything upon any other man. There was no proof
+whatever, and none has ever come to light.'
+
+'You're always for proofs that will convict a man. I only said that
+nobody else could do the thing. As for putting the notes back again in
+the safe, now I come to think of it'--his face became cunning and
+malignant--'I do remember--yes--oh! yes--I clearly remember--I quite
+clearly remember--I see it as plain as if it was before me. He got
+sidling nearer and nearer the safe while we were talking: he got quite
+close--so--he chucked a bundle in when he thought I wasn't looking. I
+think--I almost think--I could swear to it.'
+
+'Nonsense,' said the lawyer. 'Your memory is too clear. Tie up the
+notes, Checkley, and put them back. They may help, perhaps, some time,
+to find out the man. Meantime, let us go back to our search. Let us find
+these certificates.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They had now examined every packet in the safe: they had looked at every
+paper: they had opened every book and searched through all the leaves.
+There was no doubt left: the certificates were not there.
+
+Checkley began to tie up the bundles again. His master sat down trying
+to remember something--everything--that could account for their
+disappearance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+A MYSTERIOUS DISCOVERY
+
+
+The safe disposed of, there remained a cupboard, two tables full of
+drawers, twenty or thirty tin boxes. Checkley examined every one of
+these receptacles. In vain. There was not anywhere any trace of the
+certificates.
+
+'Yet,' said Mr. Dering, 'they must be somewhere. We have been hunting
+all the morning, and we have not found them. They are not in this room.
+Yet they must be somewhere. Certificates and such things don't fly away.
+They are of no use to any one. People don't steal certificates. I must
+have done something with them.'
+
+'Did you take them home with you?'
+
+'Why should I do that? I have no safe or strong-room at home.'
+
+'Did you send them to the Bank for greater safety? To be sure, they
+would be no more safe there than here.'
+
+'Go and ask. See the manager. Ask him if he holds any certificates of
+mine.'
+
+The clerk turned to obey.
+
+'No.' Mr. Dering stopped him. 'What's the good? If he held the things,
+there would have been dividends. Yet what can I do?' For the first time
+in his life the lawyer felt the emotion that he had often observed in
+clients at times of real disaster. He felt as if there was nothing
+certain: not even Property: as if the law itself, actually the law--was
+of no use. His brain reeled: the ground was slipping under his feet, and
+he was falling forward through the table, and the floor and the
+foundation--forward and down--down--down. 'What can I do?' he repeated.
+'Checkley, go. See the manager. There may be something to find out. I
+can't think properly. Go.'
+
+When the clerk left him, he laid his head upon his hands and tried to
+put things quite clearly before himself. 'Where can the certificates
+be?' he asked himself, repeating this question twenty times. He was
+quite conscious that if he had been consulted on such a point by a
+client he would have replied with the greatest readiness, suggesting the
+one really practical thing to do. For himself he could advise nothing.
+'Where can the certificates be? Nobody steals Corporation stock and gas
+companies' shares. They are no good if you do steal them. They can't be
+sold without the authority of the owner: he has got to sign transfer
+papers: if they were stolen, the dividends would go on being paid to the
+owner just the same. Besides----' Somewhere about this point he
+bethought him of the Bank-book. If the stock had been sold the money
+would appear to his credit. He snatched the book and looked at it. No;
+there was no entry which could possibly represent the sale of stock. He
+knew what every entry meant, and when the amount was paid in: his memory
+was perfectly clear upon this point.
+
+Checkley's suggestion occurred to him. Had he taken the certificates
+home with him? He might have done for some reason which he had now
+forgotten. Yes; that was the one possible explanation. He must have
+done. For a moment he breathed again--only for a moment, because he
+immediately reflected that he could not possibly do such a thing as take
+those securities to a house where he never transacted any business at
+all. Then he returned to his former bewilderment and terror. What had
+become of them? Why had he taken them out of the safe? Where had he
+bestowed them?
+
+And why were there no dividends paid to him on these stocks? Why? He
+turned white with terror when he realised that if he got no more
+dividends, he could have no more stocks.
+
+During a long professional career of fifty years, Mr. Dering had never
+made a mistake--at least he thought so. If he had not always invested
+his money to the greatest profit, he had invested it safely. He did not
+get the interest that some City men expect, but he made no losses. He
+looked upon himself, therefore, as a man of great sagacity, whereas in
+such matters he was only a man of great prudence. Also, during this long
+period he was always in the enjoyment of a considerable income.
+Therefore he had never known the least anxiety about money. Yet all his
+life he had been counselling other people in their anxieties. It was
+exactly as if a specialist in some mortal disease should be himself
+attacked by it. Or it was as if the bo'sun, whose duty it is to
+superintend the flogging, should be himself tied up.
+
+Nothing came to him: no glimmer of light: not the least recollection of
+anything. Then he thought desperately, that perhaps if he were to
+imagine how it would be if somebody else, not himself at all, were to
+come to himself and lay the story before him as a solicitor, for advice.
+Or how it would be if he himself were to go to himself as a solicitor
+and put the case.
+
+When Checkley came back, he found his master leaning back in his chair,
+his eyes wide open and staring at him as he opened the door--yet they
+saw nothing. Checkley stood under the gaze of those eyes, which saw him
+not. 'Good Lord!' he murmured. 'Is the time come? Is he going to die?'
+
+His face was white. He seemed to be listening anxiously: his lips were
+parted. 'He's in a fit of some kind,' thought the old clerk.
+
+He stood watching. He ought, perhaps, to have called for assistance. He
+did not think of it. He stood and watched, his face as pale as his
+master's. Was it the end? If so--we all think of ourselves first--what
+about his berth and salary?
+
+Suddenly his master's eyes closed; he dropped his head: he heaved a deep
+sigh: he moved his head and opened his eyes. He was restored to himself.
+The fit, whatever it was, had passed.
+
+'Checkley,' he said, 'I've been trying to put the thing to myself as if
+some other man--a client--was putting his case to me. I began very well.
+The other man came--that is, I myself called upon myself. I sat and
+heard my own story. I forgot, somehow, what the story was'--he shook his
+head impatiently. 'Forget--forget--I always forget. But I remember that
+it wasn't the story I wanted him to tell. It was another story
+altogether. He didn't tell me what I wanted to know. That is--what has
+become of the certificates. I'm no nearer than I was. He made out that I
+was actually selling the certificates myself.'
+
+'You're wandering a bit,' said Checkley, anxiously watching him. 'That's
+all. You'll be all right presently. You've bin shook up a bit, with the
+certificates and the notes and all. If I were you I'd have a glass of
+something stiff.'
+
+'No--no; I shall come round presently. Yes--that's it. I'm a good deal
+upset by this business. Somehow, I don't seem able to think clearly
+about it. Let me see'--he sighed heavily--'I think you went
+somewhere--somewhere for me, before--before the other man came.'
+
+'For Lord's sake, don't talk about the other man. There's no such
+person. Yes--I did go for you; I went to ask the manager of the Bank
+whether he held any stock for you.'
+
+'The manager of the Bank. True. Well, and does he hold anything?'
+
+'Not a scrap. Never had any.'
+
+'Then, Checkley'--Mr. Dering dropped his hands helplessly--'what is to
+be done?'
+
+'I don't know, I'm sure,' the clerk replied with equal helplessness. 'I
+never heard of such a thing before in all my life. Thirty-eight thousand
+pounds! It can't be. Nobody ever heard of such a thing before. Perhaps
+they are about the place somewhere. Let's have another search.'
+
+'No--no. It is useless. Why--I have had no dividends. The shares were
+all transferred, and nothing has been paid for them. The shares have
+been stolen. Checkley, I can't think. For the first time in my life, I
+can't think--I want some one to advise me. I must put the case in
+somebody's hands.'
+
+'There's your young partner--a chance for him to show that he's worth
+his pay. Why don't you consult him, and then come back to the old plan
+of you and me? We're knocked a bit silly just at first; but the case
+will come to us in the long run. You would have a partner--nothing would
+do but a partner. The boy's in his own room now, I suppose, with a crown
+upon his head and the clerks kneelin' around--as grand as you please.
+Send for him.'
+
+Mr. Dering nodded.
+
+The partner, when he arrived a few minutes later, found the Chief
+walking about the room in uncontrollable agitation. On the table
+lay piled the whole contents of the safe. In front of it stood
+the ancient clerk, trembling and shaking--head, hands, knees, and
+shoulders--following the movements of his master with eyes full of
+anxiety and terror. This strange fit, this forgetfulness, this rambling
+talk about another man, this new restlessness, frightened him.
+
+'You are come at last.' Mr. Dering stopped and threw himself into his
+chair. Now, my partner, hear the case and resolve the difficulty for
+us, if you can.--Tell him, Checkley--or--stay; no. I will tell it
+myself. Either I have lost my reason and my memory, or I have been
+robbed.'
+
+George stood at the table and listened. Something of the utmost gravity
+had happened. Never before had he seen his Chief in the least degree
+shaken out of his accustomed frigidity of calm. Now he was excited; his
+eyes were restless; he talked fast, he talked badly. He made half a
+dozen attempts to begin: he marshalled his facts in a slovenly and
+disorderly manner, quite unlike his usual clear arrangement: for fifty
+years he had been marshalling facts and drawing up cases, and at his own
+he broke down.
+
+'I think I understand the whole,' said George, when his Chief paused and
+Checkley ceased to correct and to add. 'You had certificates
+representing investments to the amount of 38,000_l_.: these are gone,
+unaccountably gone: no dividends have been paid for some months, and
+your broker speaks of large transfers.'
+
+'That's not all,' said Checkley. 'Tell him about the notes.'
+
+'Yes. The fact may have some bearing upon the case. While we were
+looking for the certificates, and in order, I suppose, to complicate
+things and to bewilder me the more, we found in the safe the very
+notes--give me the bundle, Checkley--there they are--that were paid over
+the Bank counter to the man who forged my name eight years ago.'
+
+'What? The case in which Athelstan Arundel was accused?'
+
+'The same. There they are--you hold them in your hand--the very notes!
+Strange! on the very day when I am threatened with another and a worse
+robbery! Yes--yes; the very notes!--the very notes! This is wonderful.
+Who put them there?'
+
+'How can I know?'
+
+'Well--but in any case one thing is certain. Athelstan's name is cleared
+at last. You will tell his mother that.'
+
+'Not at all,' said Checkley. 'Why shouldn't he put 'em in himself? I saw
+him edging up towards the safe----'
+
+'Saw him edging--stuff and nonsense! His name is cleared. This will be
+joyful news to his mother and sisters.'
+
+'Austin, get me back my certificates,' said Mr. Dering; 'never mind
+those notes now. Never mind the joyful news. Never mind Athelstan's
+name; that can wait. The thought of him and the old forgery only
+bewilders my brain at this juncture. I cannot act. I cannot think. I
+feel as if I was blinded and stupefied. Act for me--think for me--work
+for me. Be my solicitor, George, as well as my partner.'
+
+'I will do my best. It is difficult at first to understand--for what has
+happened? You cannot find--you have mislaid--certain papers. Certain
+dividends which were due do not appear to have been paid: and your
+brokers, Ellis & Northcote, have used a phrase in a letter which you do
+not understand. Would it not be well to get them here; or shall I go
+into the City and ask them exactly what they meant and what has been
+done?'
+
+'If I could remember any transactions with them during the last six
+months. But I cannot, except a small purchase of Corporation stock last
+month--a few hundreds. And here are the papers belonging to that.'
+
+'Which of the partners do you deal with?'
+
+'The old man, Ellis--he's always acted for me. He has been my friend for
+close on fifty years.'
+
+'Well, I will send for him, and tell him to come as soon as possible,
+and to bring along with him all the letters and papers he has.'
+
+'Good, good,' said Mr. Dering, more cheerfully. 'That is practical. I
+ought to have thought of that at the very outset. Now we shall get
+along. The first thing is to arrive at the facts--then we can act. If it
+was another man's case, I should have known what to do. But when it is
+your own--and to lose the certificates, and when a sum of nearly forty
+thousand pounds is at stake--it looks like losing the money itself--and
+the feeling of uncertainty----'
+
+'All taken together, becomes rather overwhelming. Of course I should
+like to see the letter-book, and we must run through the letters to see
+if they throw any light upon the business. Perhaps the papers themselves
+may be found among them.'
+
+The presence of this young man, cheerful, decided, taking practical
+measures at once, cheered up the lawyer, and steadied his shattered
+nerves. But Checkley the clerk looked on gloomily. He replaced the
+papers in the safe, and stood beside it, as if to guard it; he followed
+the movements of the new partner with watchful, suspicious eyes; and he
+muttered sullenly between his teeth.
+
+First George sent a telegram to the City for the broker. Then, while the
+old clerk still stood beside the safe, and Mr. Dering continued to show
+signs of agitation uncontrollable, sometimes walking about the room and
+sometimes sitting at his table, sometimes looking into the empty shelves
+of the safe, he began to look through the copied letters, those, that
+is, which had gone out of Mr. Dering's office. He searched for six
+months, working backwards.
+
+'Nothing for six months,' he said.--'Checkley, give me the letters.' He
+went through these. They were the letters received at the office, all
+filed, endorsed, and dated. There was not one during the letters of six
+months which he examined which had anything to do with the sales of
+stocks and shares.
+
+'If,' he said, 'you had written to Ellis & Northcote, a copy of your
+letter would be here in this book. If they had written to you, these
+letters would be among these bundles. Very well. Since no such letters
+are here, it is clear that no such letters were written. Therefore, no
+sales.'
+
+'Then,' said Mr. Dering, 'where are my certificates? Where are my
+dividends?'
+
+'That we shall see. At present, we are only getting at the facts.'
+
+Then Mr. Ellis, senior partner of Ellis & Northcote, arrived, bearing a
+small packet of papers. Everybody knew Mr. Ellis, of Ellis & Northcote,
+one of the most respectable stockbrokers in London--citizen and Lorimer.
+He belonged eminently to the class called worthy: an old gentleman,
+carefully dressed, of smooth and polished appearance, pleasing manners,
+and great integrity. Nobody could look more truly _integer vitæ_ than
+Mr. Ellis. Nor did his private practice belie his reputation and his
+appearance. His chin and lips looked as if they could not possibly
+endure the burden of beard or moustache; his sentiments, one observed at
+a glance, would certainly be such as one expects from a citizen of his
+respectability.
+
+'Here I am, dear sir,' he said cheerfully--'here I am, in immediate
+obedience to your summons. I hope that there is nothing wrong; though
+your request that I would bring with me certain papers certainly made me
+a little apprehensive.'
+
+'There is, I fear, a good deal wrong,' said Mr. Dering. 'Sit down, my
+old friend.--Give Mr. Ellis a chair, Checkley.--Austin, you will tell
+him what he wants to know.'
+
+'You wrote to Mr. Dering yesterday recommending a certain
+investment----'
+
+'I certainly did. A very favourable opportunity it is, and a capital
+thing it will prove.'
+
+'You mentioned in your letter certain transfers and sales which,
+according to your letter, he had recently effected.'
+
+'Certainly.'
+
+'What sales were they?'
+
+Mr. Ellis looked at his papers. 'February last--sale of various stock,
+all duly enumerated here, to the value of 6,500_l_. March last, sale of
+various stock, also all duly enumerated, to the value of 12,000_l_. odd.
+April last, sale of stock to the value of 20,000_l_.--more or
+less--realising----'
+
+'You note the dates and amounts, Austin?' said Mr. Dering.
+
+'Certainly; we will, however, get the dates and the amounts more exactly
+in a moment.--Now, Mr. Ellis, of course you received instructions with
+the papers themselves. Were they in writing or by word of mouth?'
+
+'In writing. By letters written by Mr. Dering himself.'
+
+'Have you got these letters with you?'
+
+'Everything is here, and in proper order.' He laid his hand upon the
+papers. 'Here, for instance, is the first letter, dated February 14,
+relating to these transactions.--You will no doubt remember it, Mr.
+Dering.' He took up a letter, and read it aloud: '"MY DEAR ELLIS,--I
+enclose a bundle of certificates and shares. They amount to somewhere
+about 6,500_l_. at current price. Will you have these transferred to the
+name of Edmund Gray, gentleman, of 22 South Square, Gray's Inn? Mr.
+Edmund Gray is a client, and I will have the amount paid to my account
+by him. Send me, therefore, the transfer papers and the account showing
+the amount due to me by him, together with your commission.--Very
+sincerely yours, EDWARD DERING." That is the letter. The proceeding is
+not usual, yet not irregular. If, for instance, we had been instructed
+to buy stock for Mr. Dering---- But of course you know.'
+
+'Pardon me,' said George. 'I am not so much accustomed to buy stock as
+my partner. Will you go on?'
+
+'We should have done so, and sent our client the bill for the amount
+with our commission. If we had been instructed to sell, we should have
+paid in to Mr. Dering's bank the amount realised less our commission. A
+transfer is another kind of work. Mr. Dering transferred this stock to
+Edmund Gray, his client. It was therefore for him to settle with his
+client the charges for the transfer and the value of the stock. We
+therefore sent a bill for these charges. It was sent by hand, and a
+cheque was received by return of the messenger.'
+
+George received the letter from him, examined it, and laid it before his
+partner.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. Dering read the letter, held it to the Checkley.
+
+'If anybody knows my handwriting,' he said, 'it ought to be you. Whose
+writing is that?'
+
+'It looks like yours. But there is a trembling in the letters. It is not
+so firm as the most of your work. I should call it yours; but I see by
+your face that it is not.'
+
+'No; it is not my writing. I did not write that letter. This is the
+first I have heard of the contents of that letter.--Look at the
+signature, Checkley. Two clots are wanting after the word Dering, and
+the flourish after the last "n" is curtailed of half its usual
+dimensions. Did you ever know me to alter my signature by a single
+curve?'
+
+'Never,' Checkley replied. 'Two clots wanting and half a flourish.--Go
+on, sir; I've just thought of something. But go on.'
+
+'You don't mean to say that this letter is a forgery?' asked Mr. Ellis.
+'Why--then---- Oh! it is impossible. It must then be the beginning of a
+whole series of forgeries. It's quite impossible to credit it. The
+letter came from this office: the post-mark shows it was posted in this
+district: the answer was sent here. The transfers--consider--the
+transfers were posted to this office. They came back duly signed and
+witnessed--from this office. I forwarded the certificate made out in the
+name of Edmund Gray--to this office: and I got an acknowledgment--from
+this office. I sent the account of the transaction with my commission
+charges--to this office, and got a cheque for the latter--from this
+office. How can such a complicated business as this--only the first of
+these transactions--be a forgery? Why, you want a dozen confederates at
+least for such a job as this.'
+
+'I do not quite understand yet,' said George, inexperienced in the
+transfer of stocks and shares.
+
+'Well, I cannot sell stock without the owner's authority; he must sign a
+transfer. But if I receive a commission from a lawyer to transfer his
+stock to a client, it is not my business to ask whether he receives the
+money or not.'
+
+'Yes--yes. And is there nothing to show for the sale of this 6,000_l_.
+worth of paper?' George asked Mr. Dering.
+
+'Nothing at all. The letters and everything are a forgery.'
+
+'And you, Mr. Ellis, received a cheque for your commission?'
+
+'Certainly.'
+
+'Get me the old cheques and the cheque-book,' said Mr. Dering. The
+cheque was drawn, as the letter was written, in Mr. Dering's
+handwriting, but with the slight difference he had pointed out in the
+signature.
+
+'You are quite sure,' asked George, 'that you did not sign that cheque?'
+
+'I am perfectly certain that I did not.'
+
+'Then as for this Edmund Gray of 22 South Square, Gray's Inn--what do
+you know about him?'
+
+'Nothing at all--absolutely nothing.'
+
+'I know something,' said Checkley. 'But go on--go on.'
+
+'He may be a non-existent person, for what you know.'
+
+'Certainly. I know nothing about any Edmund Gray.'
+
+'Wait a bit,' murmured Checkley.
+
+'Well, but'--Mr. Ellis went on--'this was only a beginning. In March you
+wrote to me again; that is to say, I received a letter purporting to be
+from you. In this letter--here it is--you instructed me to transfer
+certain stock--the papers of which you enclosed--amounting to about
+12,000_l_.--to Edmund Gray aforesaid. In the same way as before the
+transfer papers were sent to you for signature: in the same way as
+before they were signed and returned: and in the same way as before the
+commission was charged to you and paid by you. It was exactly the same
+transaction as before--only for double the sum involved in the February
+business.'
+
+Mr. Dering took the second letter and looked at it with a kind of
+patient resignation. 'I know nothing about it,' he said--'nothing at
+all.'
+
+'There was a third and last transaction,' said the broker, 'this time in
+April. Here is the letter written by you with instructions exactly the
+same as in the previous cases, but dealing with the stock to the amount
+of 19,000_l_., which we duly carried out, and for which we received your
+cheque--for commission.'
+
+'Every one of these letters--every signature of mine to transfer papers
+and to cheques--was a forgery,' said Mr. Dering slowly. 'I have no
+client named Edmund Gray: I know no one of the name: I never received
+any money from the transfers: these investments are stolen.'
+
+'Let me look at the letters again,' said George. He examined them
+carefully, comparing them with each other. 'They are so wonderfully
+forged that they would deceive the most careful. I should not hesitate,
+myself, to swear to the handwriting.'
+
+It has already been explained that Mr. Dering's handwriting was of a
+kind which is not uncommon with those who write a good deal. The
+unimportant words were conveyed by a curve, with or without a tail,
+while the really important words were clearly written. The signature,
+however, was large, distinct, and florid--the signature of the House,
+which had been flourishing for a hundred years and more, a signature
+which had never varied.
+
+'Look at it,' said George again. 'Who would not swear to this writing?'
+
+'I would for one,' said Mr. Ellis. 'And I have known it for forty years
+and more.--If that is not your own writing, Dering, it is the very
+finest imitation ever made.'
+
+'I don't think my memory can be quite gone.--Checkley, have we ever had
+a client named Edmund Gray?'
+
+'No--never. But you've forgotten one thing. That forgery eight years
+ago--the cheque of 720_l_.--was payable to the order of Edmund Gray.'
+
+'Ah! So it was. This seems important.'
+
+'Most important,' said George. 'The forger could not possibly by
+accident choose the same name. This cannot be coincidence. Have you the
+forged cheque?'
+
+'I have always kept it,' Mr. Dering replied, 'on the chance of using it
+to prove the crime and convict the criminal. You will find it, Checkley,
+in the right-hand drawer of the safe. Thank you. Here it is. "Pay to the
+order of Edmund Gray;" and here is his endorsement. So we have his
+handwriting at any rate.'
+
+George took it. 'Strange,' he said. 'I should without any hesitation
+swear to your handwriting here as well. And look--the signature to the
+cheque is exactly the same as that of these letters. The two dots
+missing after the name, and the flourish after the last "n" curtailed.'
+
+It was so. The handwriting of the cheque and of the letters was the
+same: the signatures were slightly, but systematically, altered in
+exactly the same way in both letters and cheque.
+
+'This again,' said George, 'can hardly be coincidence. It seems to me
+that the man who wrote that cheque also wrote those letters.'
+
+The endorsement was in a hand which might also be taken for Mr. Dering's
+own. Nothing to be got out of the endorsement.
+
+'But about the transfer papers,' said George. 'They would have to be
+witnessed as well as signed.'
+
+'They were witnessed,' said the broker, 'by a clerk named Lorry.'
+
+'Yes, we have such a man in our office.--Checkley, send for Lorry.'
+
+Lorry was a clerk employed in Mr. Dering's outer office. Being
+interrogated, he said that he had no recollection of witnessing a
+signature for a transfer paper. He had witnessed many signatures, but
+was not informed what the papers were. Asked if he remembered especially
+witnessing any signature in February, March, or April, he replied that
+he could not remember any, but that he had witnessed a great many
+signatures: that sometimes Mr. Dering wanted him to witness his own
+signature, sometimes those of clients. If he were shown his signature he
+might remember. Lorry, therefore, was allowed to depart to his own
+place.
+
+'There can be no longer any doubt,' said George, 'that an attempt has
+been made at a robbery on a very large scale.'
+
+'An attempt only?' Mr. Dering asked. 'Where are my certificates?'
+
+'I say attempt, because you can't really steal stock. Dividends are only
+paid to those who lawfully possess it. This Edmund Gray we can find, if
+he exists. I take it, however, that he does not. It is probably a name
+assumed by the forger. And I suppose that he has made haste to sell his
+stock. Whether or no, you will certainly recover your property. People
+may as well steal a field as steal stocks and shares.'
+
+'We can easily find out for you,' said Mr. Ellis, 'what has become of
+your paper.'
+
+'If the thieves have kept it,' George went on, 'all they could make
+would be the dividends for five months. That, however, is only because
+the Bank-book was not examined for so long. They could not reckon upon
+such an unusual stroke of luck. It seems almost certain that they must
+get rid of the stock as quickly as they could. Suppose that they have
+realised the whole amount. It is an immense sum of money. It would have
+to be paid by cheque into a bank: the holder could only draw out the
+money gradually: he might, to be sure, go to America and have the whole
+amount transferred, but that would not help him much unless he could
+draw it out in small sums payable to confederates. In fact, the robbery
+seems to me hedged about with difficulties almost impossible.'
+
+'It is the most extraordinary attempt at robbery that ever was,' said
+Mr. Ellis. 'Thirty-eight thousand pounds in shares. Well, I will find
+out for you if they have been sold and to whom. Meantime, my old friend,
+don't you be down-hearted about it. As Mr. Austin says, you will
+certainly get your property back again. What? We live in a civilised
+country. We cannot have large sums like 40,000_l_. stolen bodily.
+Property isn't kept any longer in bags of gold. Bank notes, banks,
+investments, all tend to make great robberies impossible. Courage; you
+will get back your property.'
+
+Mr. Dering shook his head doubtfully.
+
+'There is another chance,' George suggested. 'One has heard of robberies
+effected with the view of blackmail afterwards. Suppose we were to get a
+letter offering the whole to be returned for a certain sum.'
+
+'No--no. It is now four months since the thing was done. They have sold
+out the stock and disappeared--gone to America, as you suggested. Why,
+the things may have been sold a dozen times over in the interval. That
+is the danger. Suppose they _have_ been sold a dozen times over.
+Consider. Here is a share in the Great Western. I transfer it from A to
+B. Very good. The share now belongs to B, and stands in his name whether
+honestly come by or not. B sends it to another broker, who sells it to
+C. He, again, to D. Every transaction is right and in form except the
+first. You can trace the share from owner to owner. B has vanished. A
+says to C: "You bought that share of a thief." C says: "Very sorry. How
+was I to know? D has got it now." D says that it is his, and he will
+stick to it. We go to law about the share. What is going to happen? Upon
+my word, I don't know. Well--but this is only conjecture. Let me first
+find out what has become of the shares. Of course there is a record, to
+which I have only to refer. I will let you know by to-morrow morning, if
+I can.'
+
+When Mr. Ellis was gone, George began to sum up, for the clearing of his
+own mind, the ascertained facts of the case, so far as they had got.
+
+'First,' he said, 'the letters to Ellis and Northcote were written on
+our headed paper. Clearly, therefore, the writer must have had access to
+the office. Next, he knew and could copy your handwriting. Third, he was
+able to intercept the delivery of letters, and to prevent your getting
+any he wished to stop, because the correspondence was conducted openly
+through the post. That seems to be a very important point. Fourth, the
+letters were all, apparently, in your handwriting, very skilfully
+imitated, instead of being dictated and then signed. Fifth, he must at
+least have known of the last forgery, or how did he arrive at the name
+of Edmund Gray?' And was it out of devilry and mockery, because that
+forgery escaped detection, that he used the name again? Sixth, he must
+have had access to the safe where the cheque-book (as well as the
+certificates) was kept. Seventh, he must have known the office pretty
+well, or how did he find out the names of your brokers? Eighth, the
+handwriting appeared to be exactly the same as that of the former
+forgery.'
+
+'It is the same as last time,' said Checkley. 'That forgery was done in
+the office, if ever a thing was done here. Same with this--same with
+this. Well--time will show. Same with this.' He glared from under his
+great eyebrows at the young partner, as if he suspected that the young
+gentleman could throw some light upon that mystery if he wished.
+
+'We have given Time long enough to discover the author of the last
+business,' said Mr. Dering; 'but he has not chosen to do so as yet. The
+loss of property,' he groaned--'the loss of close on forty thousand
+pounds.'
+
+'I don't believe it is lost,' said George. 'It can't be lost. It is a
+bit of a railway--part of a reservoir--a corner of the gas-works--you
+can't lose these things--unless, indeed, the difficulty suggested by Mr.
+Ellis occurs.'
+
+Here Mr. Dering pushed back his chair and began again to walk about the
+room in restless agitation. He was no longer the grave and serious
+lawyer; he became one of his own clients, lamenting, as they had so
+often lamented in that room, the greatness of his misfortune. He uttered
+the actual commonplaces of men in distress--there is a dreadful sameness
+about the Lamentations of Ill Luck. We all know them--the hardness of
+the thing: the injustice of it: the impossibility of warding it off: his
+own sagacity in taking every precaution: the dreadfulness of being
+singled out of a whole generation for exceptional misfortune. Mr. Dering
+himself, the grave, calm, reserved old lawyer, who seemed made of
+granite, broke down under the blow and became an ordinary human
+creature. In the lower walks, they weep. Checkley would have wept. Mr.
+Dering became eloquent, wrathful, sarcastic. No retired General who has
+ruined himself by gambling in stocks could so bemoan his luck. George
+listened, saying nothing. It was an experience. No man so strong but has
+his weak point. No man is completely armoured against the arrows of
+fate.
+
+Presently he grew a little more calm, and sat down. 'Forgive me,
+George,' he said gently--'forgive this outbreak. There is more in the
+business than you know of. I feel as if I know something about it, but
+can't bring it out. I am growing so forgetful--I forget whole days--I am
+filled with the feeling that I ought to know about it. As for the loss,
+what I have said is true. You do not yet feel as I do about Property.
+You are too young: you have not got any Property yet. Wait a few
+years--then you will be able to agree with me that there is nothing in
+the world so hard as to lose your Property--the Property that you have
+made--by your own exertions--for yourself.'
+
+'Now you talk like yourself,' said Checkley. 'That's sense. Nothing so
+dreadful as to lose Property. It's enough to kill people, it has killed
+many people.'
+
+'Property means everything. You understand that the more the older you
+get.'
+
+'You do,' echoed Checkley. 'There's nothing in the world worth
+considering except Property.'
+
+'It means--remember--all the virtues--prudence--courage--quick
+sight--self-restraint--tenacity--all the fighting qualities. We do well
+to honour rich men. I hoped to receive honour myself as a rich man. When
+you have put together a few thousands--by the exercise of these finer
+qualities, so that the thought of this gives you dignity----'
+
+'Ah!' cried Checkley, straightening himself.
+
+'To feel that they are gone--gone--gone--it is cruel.--George, you don't
+understand it. You are young: as yet you have no money.--Checkley, you
+have saved----'
+
+'Me? Oh! A trifle, a trifle.' But he covered his mouth with his hand to
+conceal the smile of satisfaction.
+
+'You are reputed rich.'
+
+'No--no--no. Not rich. My chances have been few. I have not let them go.
+But rich? No--no.'
+
+'How would you regard the loss--the robbery of your property--Checkley?'
+
+The old clerk shook his head. He had no words adequate to the question.
+
+'Apart from the loss,' Mr. Dering went on, 'there is the sense of
+insecurity. I felt it once before when the other forgery took place.
+There seems no safety anywhere. Papers that I keep in my private safe,
+to which no one has a key but myself, which I never leave open if I
+leave the room even to go into another room, are taken. Cheque-books
+which I keep there are taken out and cheques stolen. Finally, things are
+put in--the bundle of notes--for instance. I say that I feel a sense of
+helplessness, as if everything might be taken from me and I should be
+powerless to resist.'
+
+'Let us first get back the certificates,' said George, 'and we will find
+out and defeat this gang, if it is a gang, of confederates. Yes--it is
+as you say--the ground itself seems sinking beneath one's feet--when
+one's own investments are sold for nothing by a letter so like your own
+writing that it would deceive anybody.'
+
+'Done in the office,' Checkley murmured--'in the office. Same as last
+time. Well--we shall find him--we shall find him.' He began to bundle
+the papers back into the safe, murmuring: 'Same as last time--done in
+the office--we shall find him--we shall find him. We found him before,
+and we'll find him now.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE FIRST FIND
+
+
+'Yes,' said George thoughtfully, 'a day or two ought to unravel this
+matter. We must first, however, before going to the Police, find out as
+much as we can ourselves. Let me take up the case by myself for a bit.'
+
+'No--no,' Checkley grumbled. 'Police first. Catch the man first.'
+
+'Put aside everything,' said the Chief, 'everything, George. Forget
+everything until you have found out the mystery of the conspiracy.'
+
+'It looks to me like a Long Firm,' George went on--'a Long Firm with a
+sham name and a respectable address. Of course there is no such person,
+really, as Edmund Gray.'
+
+'It is not only the loss--perhaps, let us hope'--Mr. Dering
+sighed--'only a temporary loss; if a real loss, then a most terrible
+blow--not only that, but it is the sense of insecurity. No one ever
+found out about that cheque--and here are the notes in the safe all the
+time.'
+
+'He put 'em in,' said Checkley.
+
+'This is the second time--and the same name still--Edmund Gray. It fills
+me with uneasiness--I am terrified, George. I know not what may be the
+next blow--what may be taken from me--my mortgages--my houses--my
+land--everything. Go. I can do the work of the office--all the work--by
+myself. But this work I cannot do. I am not able to think about it.
+These thoughts overpower me and cloud my reason.'
+
+'Well,' said George, 'I will do what I can. I don't suppose there is any
+Edmund Gray at all: but one must try to find out. There can be no harm
+in paying a visit to Gray's Inn. If the thing had been done yesterday,
+it would be necessary to strike at once with a warrant for the arrest of
+the said Edmund Gray. As it is four months since the last robbery, there
+can be small harm in the delay of a day or two. I will go and inquire a
+little.'
+
+Nothing easier than to inquire. There was the man's address: everybody
+knows Gray's Inn: everybody knows South Square. The place is only ten
+minutes' walk from Lincoln's Inn. George took his hat, walked over and
+proceeded straight to No. 22, expecting to find no such name on the
+door-posts. On the contrary, there it was. '2nd Floor, Mr. Edmund Gray,'
+among the other occupants of the staircase. He mounted the stairs. On
+the second floor right was the name over the door, 'Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+But the outer door was closed. That is a sign that the tenant of the
+Chambers is either not at home or not visible. On the first floor were
+the offices of a Firm of Solicitors. He sent in his card. The name of
+Dering and Son commands the respectful attention of every solicitor in
+London. One of the partners received him. The firm of Dering and Son was
+anxious to see Mr. Edmund Gray, who had the Chambers overhead. At what
+hours was Mr. Edmund Gray generally in his rooms? Nobody knew, not
+either of the partners, not any of the clerks. He might have been met
+going up and down the stairs, but nobody knew him by sight or anything
+about him. This at first sight seemed suspicious; afterwards George
+reflected that men may live for years on the same staircase and never
+know anything about each other. Men who live in Gray's Inn do not visit
+each other: there is little neighbourly spirit among men in Chambers,
+but rather an unspoken distrust.
+
+'But,' said the partner, 'I can tell you who is his landlord. He does
+not take the rooms of the Inn direct, but as we do, from one who has
+several sets on a long lease, and sublets the rooms. They may know
+something about the man at the Steward's office across the Square. If
+not, the landlord will certainly know.'
+
+George asked if Edmund Gray was newly arrived. No. It appeared that he
+had been in the Inn for a long time. 'But then,' his informant added,
+'he may have been here a hundred years for all we know: we never think
+of our neighbours in Chambers. Opposite is a man whose name has been
+over the door as long as I can remember anything. I don't know who he is
+or what is his business. I don't even know him by sight. So with Mr.
+Edmund Gray. If I were to meet him on the stairs, I should not be any
+the wiser. You see, I am only here in the daytime. Now, the other man on
+the second floor I do know something about, because he is a coach and
+was a Fellow of my College. And the man in the garrets I hear about
+occasionally, because he is an old barrister who sometimes defends a
+prisoner.'
+
+At the Steward's office George put the same question. 'I am a
+solicitor,' he said. 'Here is my card. I am most anxious to see Mr.
+Edmund Gray, of No. 22. Could you save me time by letting me know at
+what hour he is in his Chambers?'
+
+They could tell him nothing. Mr. Gray was not a tenant of the Inn. Very
+likely he was a residential tenant who came home in the evenings after
+business.
+
+Everything learned is a step gained. Whether Edmund Gray was a man or a
+Long Firm, the name had been on the door for many years. But--many
+years?--could a confederacy of swindlers go on for many years,
+especially if they undertook such mighty schemes for plunder as this
+business?
+
+Next he went to the address of the landlord. He was a house agent in
+Bloomsbury, and apparently a person of respectability.
+
+'If you could tell me,' George began with the same question, 'at what
+hours I could find your tenant in his Chambers; or if you could give me
+his business address, we should be very greatly obliged. We want to find
+him at once--to-day, if possible, on very important business.'
+
+'Well, I am sorry, very sorry--but--in fact, I don't know anything about
+my tenant's hours, nor can I give you his place of business. I believe
+he has no business.'
+
+'Oh! But you took him as a tenant. You must have had some references.'
+
+'Certainly. And upon that I can satisfy you very shortly.' He opened a
+great book and turned over the pages. 'Here it is--to No. 22, South
+Square, Gray's Inn, Second floor, north side--Edmund Gray, gentleman.
+Rent 40_l_. a year. Date of taking the rooms, February, 1882, at the
+half-quarter. Reference, Messrs. Dering and Son, Solicitors, New Square,
+Lincoln's Inn.'
+
+'Why--you mean that he referred to us--to Messrs. Dering and Son--in the
+year 1882!'
+
+'That is so. Would you like to see the letter which we received on
+application? Wait a moment.' He rang the bell, and a clerk appeared, to
+whom he gave instructions. 'I am bound to say,' the landlord went on,
+'that a more satisfactory tenant than Mr. Gray does not exist. He pays
+his rent regularly by Post-office order every quarter, on the day before
+quarter day.'
+
+'Oh! I wonder----' But he stopped, because to begin wondering is always
+futile, especially at so early a stage. When there are already
+accumulated facts to go upon, and not till then, wondering becomes the
+putting together of the puzzle.
+
+'Well, here is the letter. "Gentlemen"'--the house agent read the letter
+received on application to the reference-'"In reply to your letter of
+the 13th, we beg to inform you that Mr. Edmund Gray is a client of ours,
+a gentleman of independent means, and that he is quite able to pay any
+reasonable rent for residence or Chambers.--Your obedient servants,
+DERING AND SON."--I suppose,' he added, 'that a man doesn't want a
+better reference than your own?'
+
+'No; certainly not.' George looked at the letter. It presented as to
+handwriting exactly the same points of likeness and of difference as all
+the other letters in this strange case: the body of the letter
+apparently written in the hand of Mr. Dering; that is, so as to deceive
+everybody: the signature, with one or two small omissions. 'Certainly
+not,' he repeated. 'With such a reference, of course, you did not
+hesitate. Did you ever see Mr. Gray?'
+
+'Certainly. I have seen him often. First when he was getting his rooms
+furnished, and afterwards on various occasions.'
+
+'What kind of a man is he to look at?'
+
+'Elderly. Not exactly the kind of man you'd expect to have Chambers.
+Mostly, they're young ones who like the freedom. An elderly gentleman:
+pleasant in his manners: smiling and affable: gray-haired.'
+
+'Oh!' Then there was a real Edmund Gray of ten years' standing in the
+Inn, who lived or had Chambers at the number stated in the forged
+letters.
+
+'I suppose,' said the house agent, 'that my respectable tenant has not
+done anything bad?'
+
+'N-no--not to my knowledge. His name occurs in rather a disagreeable
+case. Would you be so very kind as to let him know, in case you should
+meet him--but of course we shall write to him--that we are most anxious
+to see him?'
+
+This the landlord readily promised. 'There is another person,' he said,
+'who can tell you a great deal more than anybody else. That is his
+laundress. I don't know who looks after him, but you can find out at
+the Inn. The policeman will know. Go and ask him.'
+
+In the game of battledore and shuttlecock, the latter has no chance
+except to take the thing coolly, without temper. George was the
+shuttlecock. He was hit back into Gray's Inn--this time into the arms of
+the policeman.
+
+'Well, sir,' said the guardian of the peace, 'I do not know anything
+about the gentleman myself. If he was one of the noisy ones, I should
+know him. But he isn't, and therefore I have never heard of him. But if
+he lives at No. 22, I can tell you who does his rooms; and it's old Mrs.
+Cripps, and she lives in Leather Lane.'
+
+This street, which is now, comparatively speaking, purged and cleansed,
+is not yet quite the ideal spot for one who would have pure air and
+cleanliness combined with godliness of conversation. However, individual
+liberty is nowhere more absolutely free and uncontrolled than in Leather
+Lane.
+
+Mrs. Cripps lived on the top floor, nearest to Heaven, of which she
+ought to be thinking because she was now old and near her end. She was
+so old that she was quite past her work, and only kept on Mr. Gray's
+rooms because he never slept there, and they gave her no trouble except
+to go to them in the morning with a duster and to drop asleep for an
+hour or so. What her one gentleman gave her, moreover, was all she had
+to live upon.
+
+Though the morning was warm, she was sitting over the fire watching a
+small pan, in which she was stewing a savoury mess, consisting of a
+'block ornament' with onions, carrots, and turnips. Perhaps she was
+thinking--the poor old soul--of the days gone by--gone by for fifty
+years--when she was young and wore a feather in her hat. Old ladies of
+her class do not think much about vanished beauty, but they think a good
+deal about vanished feathers and vanished hats: they remember the old
+free carriage in the streets with the young friends, and the careless
+laugh, and the ready jest. It is the ancient gentlewoman who remembers
+the vanished beauty, and thinks of what she was fifty years ago.
+
+Mrs. Cripps heard a step on the narrow stair leading to her room--a
+manly step. It mounted higher and more slowly, because the stairs were
+dark as well as narrow. Then the visitor's hat knocked against the door.
+He opened it, and stood there looking in. A gentleman! Not a District
+Visitor or a Sister trying to persuade her to early Church--nor yet the
+clergyman--a young gentleman.
+
+'You are Mrs. Cripps?' he asked. 'The policeman at Gray's Inn directed
+me here. You are laundress, I believe, to Mr. Edmund Gray of No. 22?'
+
+'Suppose I am, sir,' she replied suspiciously. A laundress is like the
+Hall Porter of a Club: you must not ask her about any of her gentlemen.
+
+'I have called to see Mr. Edmund Gray on very important business. I
+found his door shut. Will you kindly tell me at what hours he is
+generally in his Chambers?'
+
+She shook her head: but she held out her hand.
+
+The young gentleman placed half a sovereign in her palm. Her fingers
+closed over the coin. She clutched it, and she hid it away in some
+secret fold of her ragged dress. There is no woman so ragged, so
+dropping to pieces with shreds and streamers and tatters, but she can
+find a safe hiding-place, somewhere in her rags, for a coin or for
+anything else that is small or precious.
+
+'I never tell tales about my gentlemen,' she said, 'especially when they
+are young and handsome, like you. A pore laundress has eyes and ears and
+hands, but she hasn't got a tongue. If she had, there might be terrible,
+terrible trouble. Oh! dear--yes. But Mr. Gray isn't a young gentleman.
+He's old, and it isn't the same thing.'
+
+'Then,' said George, 'how and when can I find him?'
+
+'I was coming to that. You can't find him. Sometimes he comes, and
+sometimes he doesn't come.'
+
+'Oh! He doesn't live in the rooms, then!'
+
+'No. He doesn't live in the rooms. He uses the rooms sometimes.'
+
+'What does he use them for?'
+
+'How should I know? All the gentlemen do things with pens and paper. How
+should I know what they do? They make their money with their pens and
+paper. I dun know how they do it. I suppose Mr. Gray is making his money
+like the rest of them.'
+
+Oh! he goes to the Chambers and writes?'
+
+'Sometimes it's weeks and weeks and months and months before he comes at
+all. But always my money regular and beforehand sent in an envelope and
+a postal order.'
+
+'Well, what is his private address? I suppose he lives in the country?'
+
+'I don't know where he lives. I know nothing about him. I go there every
+morning, and I do the room. That's all I know.'
+
+There was no more information to be obtained. Sometimes he came to the
+Inn; sometimes he stayed away for weeks and weeks, and for months and
+months.
+
+'I might ha' told you more, young gentleman,' murmured the old woman,
+'and I might ha' told you less. P'raps you'll come again.'
+
+He went back to Lincoln's Inn, and set down his facts.
+
+First, there was a forgery in the year 1882, in which the name of Edmund
+Gray was used. Next, in the series of forgeries just discovered, not
+only was the name of Edmund Gray used throughout, but the handwriting of
+the letters and cheques was exactly the same as that of the first
+cheque, with the same peculiarities in the signature. This could hardly
+be a coincidence. The same man must have written the whole.
+
+Then, who was Edmund Gray?
+
+He was a real personage--a living man--not a Firm--one known to the
+landlord of the Chambers, and to the laundress, if to nobody else. He
+did not live in the Chambers, but he used them for some business
+purposes; he sometimes called there and wrote. What did he write? Where
+was he, and what was he doing, when he was not at the Chambers? He might
+be one--leader or follower--of some secret gang. One has read of such
+gangs, especially in French novels, where the leaders are noble Dukes of
+the first rank, and Princesses--young, lovely, of the highest fashion.
+Why should there not be such a gang in London? Clever conspirators could
+go a very long way before they were even suspected. In this civilisation
+of cheques and registered shares and official transfers, property is so
+much defended that it is difficult to break through the armour. But
+there must be weak places in that armour. It must be possible for the
+wit of man to devise some plan by means of which property can be
+attacked successfully. Had he struck such a conspiracy?
+
+Thus. A man calling himself Edmund Gray gets a lease of Chambers by
+means of a forged letter in answer to a reference. It is convenient for
+certain conspirators, hereinafter called the company, to have an
+address, though it may never be used. The conspiracy begins by forging
+a cheque to his order for 720_l_. That was at the outset, when the
+conspirators were young. It was found dangerous, and the notes were
+therefore replaced in the safe. Note, that the company, through one or
+other of its members, has access to that safe. This might perhaps be by
+means of a key--in the evening, after office hours: or by some one who
+was about the place all day.
+
+Very good. The continued connection of some member of the Firm with
+Dering and Son is proved by the subsequent proceedings. After eight
+years, the company having matured their machinery, and perhaps worked
+out with success other enterprises, return to their first quarry, where
+they have the advantage of access to the letters, and can look over
+their disposition. They are thus enabled to conduct their successive
+_coups_, each bigger than the one before. And for four months the thing
+remains undiscovered. Having the certificates in their hands, what was
+to prevent them from selling the whole and dividing the proceeds?
+Nothing. Yet, in such a case they would disappear, and here was Edmund
+Gray still fearlessly at large. Why had he not got clear away long
+before?
+
+Again--all the correspondence concerning Edmund Gray was carried on
+between the office and the brokers. There were no letters from Edmund
+Gray at all. Suppose it should be found impossible to connect Edmund
+Gray with the transactions carried on in his name. Suppose the real
+Edmund Gray were to deny any knowledge at all of the transactions.
+Suppose he were to say that ten years before he had brought a letter of
+introduction to Mr. Dering, and knew nothing more about him. Well--but
+the certificates themselves--what about them? Their possession would
+have to be accounted for. So he turned the matter over and over and
+arrived at nothing, not even the next step to take.
+
+He went back to the Chief and reported what he had discovered: the
+existence of an Edmund Gray--the letter of recommendation to the
+landlord. 'Another forgery,' groaned Mr. Dering.
+
+'It is done in the office,' said George. 'It is all done in the
+office--letters--cheques--everything.'
+
+'The office,' Checkley repeated. 'No doubt about it.'
+
+'Give up everything else, George,' said Mr. Dering eagerly 'everything
+else. Find out--find out. Employ detectives. Spend money as much as you
+please. I am on a volcano--I know not what may be taken from me next.
+Only find out, my partner, my dear partner--find out.'
+
+When George was gone, Checkley went after him and opened the door
+mysteriously, to assure himself that no one was listening.
+
+'What are you going on like that for, Checkley?' asked his master
+irritably. 'Is it another forgery? It rains forgeries.'
+
+'No--no. Look here. Don't trouble too much about it. Don't try to think
+how it was done. Don't talk about the other man. Look here. You've sent
+that young gentleman to find out this business. Well--mark my words: he
+won't. He won't, I say. He'll make a splash, but he won't find anything.
+Who found out the last job?'
+
+'You said you did. But nothing was proved.'
+
+'I found that out. Plenty of proof there was. Look here'--his small eyes
+twinkled under his shaggy eyebrows--'I'll find out this job as well, see
+if I don't. Why----' He rubbed his hands. 'Ho! ho! I _have found out_.
+Don't ask me--don't put a single question. But--I've got 'em--oh! I've
+got 'em. I've got 'em for you--as they say--on toast.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THINGS MORE REMARKABLE
+
+
+After such a prodigious event as the discovery of these unparalleled
+forgeries, anything might happen without being regarded. People's minds
+are open at such times to see, hear, and accept everything. After the
+earthquake, ghosts walk, solid things fly away of their own accord, good
+men commit murder, rich men go empty away, and nobody is in the least
+surprised.
+
+See what happened, the very next day, at the office in New Square. When
+George arrived in the morning he found that the senior Partner had not
+yet appeared. He was late. For the first time for fifty years and more,
+he was late. He went to his place, and the empty chair gave an air of
+bereavement to the room. Checkley was laying out the table; that is, he
+had done so a quarter of an hour before, but he could not leave off
+doing it: he was loth to leave the table before the master came: he took
+up the blotting pad and laid it down again: he arranged the pens: he
+lingered over the job.
+
+'Not come yet?' George cried, astonished. 'Do you think that yesterday's
+shock has been too much for him?'
+
+'I believe it's killed him,' said the old clerk--'killed him. That's
+what it has done;' and he went on muttering and mumbling. 'Don't,'he
+cried, when George took up the letters. 'P'r'aps he isn't dead yet--you
+haven't stepped into his shoes just yet. Let them letters alone.'
+
+'Not dead yet. I hope not.' George began to open the letters, regardless
+of the surly and disrespectful words. One may forgive a good deal to
+fidelity. 'He will go on for a good many years after we have got the
+money back for him.'
+
+'After some of us'--Checkley corrected him--'have got his money back for
+him.' He turned to go back to his own office, then turned again and came
+back to the table. He laid both hands upon it, leaned forward, shaking
+his head, and said with trembling voice: 'Did you never think, Mr.
+Austin, of the black ingratitood of the thing? Him that done it you
+know--him that eat his bread and took his money.' When Checkley was
+greatly moved, his grammar went back to the early days before he was
+confidential clerk.
+
+'I daresay it was ungrateful. I have been thinking, hitherto, of
+stronger adjectives.'
+
+'Well--we've agreed--all of us--haven't we?--that it was done in this
+office--some one in the office done it with the help of some one out:
+some one who knows his ways'--he pointed to the empty chair--'some one
+who'd known all his ways for a long time, ten years at least.'
+
+'Things certainly seem to point that way'--'and they point to you,' he
+would have added, but refrained.
+
+The old man shook his head again and went on. 'They've eaten his bread
+and done his work; and--and--don't you call it, Mr. Austin--I ask you
+plain--don't you call it black ingratitood?'
+
+'I am sure it is. I have no doubt whatever about the ingratitude. But,
+you see, Checkley, that vice is not one which the Courts recognise. It
+is not one denounced in the Decalogue.--There is a good deal to
+consider, in fact, before we get to the ingratitude. It is probably a
+criminal conspiracy; it is a felony; it is a thing to be punished by a
+long term of penal servitude. When we have worried through all this and
+got our conspirators under lock and key, we will proceed to consider
+their ingratitude. There is also the bad form of it and the absence of
+proper feeling of it; and the want of consideration of the trouble they
+give. Patience! We shall have to consider the business from your point
+of view presently.'
+
+'I wouldn't scoff and snigger at it, Mr. Austin, if I were you. Scoffin'
+and sniggerin' might bring bad luck. Because, you know, there's others
+besides yourself determined to bring this thing to a right issue.'
+
+George put down his papers and looked at this importunate person. What
+did he mean? The old man shrunk and shrivelled and grew small. He
+trembled all over. But he remained standing with his hands on the
+table--leaning forward. 'Eight years ago,' he went on, 'when that other
+business happened--when Mr. Arundel cut his lucky----'
+
+'I will have nothing said against Mr. Arundel. Go to your own room.'
+
+'One word--I will speak it. If _he's_ dead I shall not stay long here.
+But I shall stay so long as he's alive, though you are his partner. Only
+one word, sir. If Mr. Arundel hadn't--run away--he'd 'a been a partner
+instead of you.'
+
+'Well?'
+
+'Well, sir--s'pose he'd been found out _after_ he was made a partner,
+instead of before?'
+
+George pointed to the door. The old man seemed off his head--was it with
+terror? Checkley obeyed. But at the door he turned his head and grinned.
+Quite a theatrical grin. It expressed malignity and the pleasure of
+anticipation. What was the matter with the old man? Surely, terror. Who,
+in the office, except himself, had the control of the letters? Who drew
+that quarterly cheque? Surely, terror.
+
+It was not until half-past eleven that Mr. Dering arrived at the office.
+He usually passed through the clerk's office outside his own; this
+morning he entered by his own private door, which opened on the stairs.
+No one had the key except himself. He generally proceeded in an orderly
+and methodical manner to hang up his hat and coat, take off his gloves,
+place his umbrella in the stand, throw open the safe, sit down in his
+chair, adjusted at a certain distance of three inches or so, to put on
+his glasses, and then, without either haste or dawdling, to begin the
+work of the day. It is very certain that to approach work always in
+exactly the same way saves the nerves. The unmethodical workman gets to
+his office at a varying hour, travels by different routes--now on an
+omnibus, now on foot; does nothing to-day in the same way that he did it
+yesterday. He breaks up early. At sixty he talks of retiring, at seventy
+he is past his work.
+
+This morning, Mr. Dering did nothing in its proper order. First, he was
+nearly two hours late. Next, he came in by his private door. George rose
+to greet him, but stopped because--a most wonderful thing--his Partner
+made as if he did not observe his presence. His eyes went through George
+in creepy and ghostly fashion. The junior partner stood still, silent,
+in bewilderment. Saw one ever the like, that a man should at noontide
+walk in his sleep! His appearance, too, was strange; his hat, pushed a
+little back, gave a touch of recklessness--actually recklessness--to the
+austere old lawyer: his eyes glowed pleasantly; and on his face--that
+grave and sober face--there was a pleased and satisfied smile: he looked
+happy, interested, benevolent, but not--no--not Mr. Edward Dering.
+Again, his coat, always tightly buttoned, was now hanging loose;
+outside, it had been swinging in the breeze, to the wonder of Lincoln's
+Inn: and he wore no gloves, a thing most remarkable. He looked about the
+room, nodded his head, and shut the door behind him.
+
+'He's somnambulating,' George murmured, 'or else I am invisible: I must
+have eaten fern-seed without knowing it.'
+
+Mr. Dering, still smiling pleasantly, walked across the room to the safe
+and unlocked it. He had in his hand a brown-paper parcel tied with red
+tape--this he deposited in the safe, locked it up, and dropped the keys
+in his pocket. The window beside the safe was open. He sat down, looking
+out into the Square.
+
+At this moment Checkley opened the door softly, after his wont, to bring
+in more letters. He stopped short, seeing his master thus seated, head
+in hand, at the window. He recognised the symptoms of yesterday--the
+rapt look, the open eyes that saw nothing. He crept on tiptoe across the
+room. 'Hush!' he whispered. 'Don't move. Don't speak. He went like this
+yesterday. Don't make the least noise. He'll come round presently.'
+
+'What is it?'
+
+'Kind of fit, it is. Trouble done it. Yah! Ingratitood.' He would have
+hissed the word, but it has no sibilant. You can't hiss without the
+materials. 'Yesterday's trouble. That's what's done it.'
+
+They stood watching in silence for about ten minutes. The office was
+like the Court of the sleeping Princess. Then Checkley sneezed. Mr.
+Dering probably mistook the sneeze for a kiss, for he closed his eyes
+for a moment, opened them again, and arose once more himself, grave and
+austere.
+
+He nodded cheerfully, took off his hat, hung it on its peg, buttoned his
+coat, and threw open the safe. Evidently he remembered nothing of what
+had just passed.
+
+'You are early, George,' he said. 'You are before me, which is unusual.
+However--the early bird--we know.'
+
+'Before you for once. Are you quite well this morning? None the worse
+for yesterday's trouble?'
+
+'He's always well,' said Checkley, with cheerfulness assumed. 'Nobody
+ever sees him ill--_he_ get ill? Not him. Eats as hearty as
+five-and-twenty and walks as upright.'
+
+'I am perfectly well, to the best of my knowledge. Yesterday's business
+upset me for the time--but it did not keep me awake. Yet it is certainly
+a very great trouble. You have no news, I suppose, that brought you here
+earlier than usual?'
+
+'Nothing new since yesterday.'
+
+'And you feel pretty confident?'
+
+'I feel like a sleuth-hound. I understand the pleasures of the chase. I
+long to be on the scent again. As for Edmund Gray, he is as good as in
+prison already.'
+
+'Good. I was for the moment shaken out of myself. I was bewildered. I
+was unable to look at the facts of the case calmly. For the first time
+in my life I wanted advice. Well: I now understand what a great thing it
+is that our profession exists for the assistance of men in trouble. How
+would the world get along at all without solicitors?'
+
+He took his usual place at the table and turned over his letters. 'This
+morning,' he went on, 'I feel more assured: my mind is clear again. I
+can talk about the case. Now then. Let us see--Edmund Gray is no shadow
+but a man. He has made me recommend him to his landlord. He is a clever
+man and a bold man. Don't be in a hurry about putting your hands upon
+him. Complete your case before you strike. But make no delay.'
+
+'There shall be none. And you shall hear everything from day to day, or
+from hour to hour.'
+
+Left alone, Mr. Dering returned to his papers and his work.
+
+At half-past one, Checkley looked in. 'Not going to take lunch this
+morning?'
+
+'Lunch? I have only just----' Mr. Dering looked at his watch. 'Bless me!
+Most extraordinary! This morning has slipped away. I thought I had only
+just sat down. It seems not more than half an hour since Mr. Austin left
+me. Why, I should have forgotten all about it and let the time go
+by--nothing worse for a man of my years than irregular feeding.'
+
+'It's lucky you've got me,' said his clerk. 'Half-a-dozen partners
+wouldn't look after your meal-times.--Ah!' as his master went up-stairs
+to the room where he always had his luncheon laid out, 'he's clean
+forgotten. Some of these days, walking about wropped up in his thoughts,
+he'll be run over.--Clean forgotten it, he has. Sits down in a dream:
+walks about in a dream: some of these days he'll do something in a
+dream. Then there will be trouble.' He closed the door and returned to
+his own desk, where he was alone, the juniors having gone out to dinner.
+His own dinner was in his coat pocket. It consisted of a saveloy cut in
+thin slices and laid in bread with butter and mustard--a tasty meal. He
+slowly devoured the whole to the last crumb. Then, Mr. Dering having by
+this time finished his lunch and descended again, Checkley went
+up-stairs and finished the pint of claret of which his master had taken
+one glass. 'It's sour stuff,' he said. 'It don't behave as wine in a
+man's inside ought to behave. It don't make him a bit joyfuller. But
+it's pleasant too. Why they can't drink Port wine--which is real
+wine--when they can afford it, I don't know.'
+
+It was past three in the afternoon when George returned, not quite so
+confident in his bearing, yet full of news.
+
+'If you are quite ready to listen,' he said, 'I've got a good deal to
+tell. First of all, I thought I would have another shot at Gray's Inn. I
+went to the Chambers. The outer door was open, which looked as if the
+man was at home. I knocked at the inner door, which was opened by the
+laundress, the old woman whom I saw yesterday. "Well, sir," she said,
+"you are unlucky. The master has been here this very morning. And he
+hasn't been long gone. You've only missed him by half an hour or so." I
+asked her if he would return that day; but she knew nothing. Then I
+asked her if she would let me write and leave a note for him. To this
+she consented, rather unwillingly. I went in therefore, and wrote my
+note at Mr. Gray's table. I asked him to call here on important
+business, and I marked the note "Urgent." I think there can be no harm
+in that. Then I looked about the room. It is one of those old wainscoted
+rooms, furnished simply, but everything solid and good--a long table,
+nearly as large as this one of yours: solid chairs--a solid sofa. Three
+or four pictures on the wall, and a bookcase full of books. No signs of
+occupation: no letters: no flowers. Everything covered with dust,
+although the old woman was there. I could have wished to examine the
+papers on the table, but the presence of the old woman forbade that
+dishonourable act. I did, however, look at the books. And I made a most
+curious discovery. Mr. Edmund Gray is a Socialist. All his books are on
+Socialism: they are in French, German, and English: all books of
+Socialism. And the pictures on the wall are portraits of distinguished
+Socialists. Isn't that wonderful? Did one ever hear before of Socialism
+and forgery going together?'
+
+'Not too fast. We haven't yet connected Edmund Gray with the forgery. At
+present, we only know that his name was used.'
+
+'Wait a bit. I am coming to that. After leaving the Chambers, I went
+into the City and saw Mr. Ellis. First of all, none of the stock has
+been sold.'
+
+'Oh! they have had three months, and they have not disposed of it? They
+must have met with unforeseen difficulties. Let me see.'
+
+Mr. Dering was now thoroughly alert. The weakness of the morning had
+completely passed away. 'What difficulties? Upon my word, I cannot
+understand that there could have been any. They have got the papers from
+a respectable solicitor through a respectable broker. No--no. Their
+course was perfectly plain. But rogues often break down through their
+inability to see the strength of their own case.'
+
+'Next, Mr. Ellis has ascertained that some of the dividends are received
+by your Bank. I therefore called on the manager. Now, be prepared for
+another surprise.'
+
+'Another forgery?'
+
+'Yes--another forgery. It is nine or ten years since you sent a letter
+to the manager--I saw it--introducing your client Edmund Gray,
+gentleman, who was desirous of opening a private account. He paid in a
+small sum of money, which has been lying to his credit ever since, and
+has not been touched. In February last he received another letter from
+you; and again in March and April, forwarding certificates, and
+requesting him to receive the dividends. With your own hand you placed
+the papers in the Bank. I saw the letters. I would swear to your
+handwriting.'
+
+'These people are as clever as they are audacious.'
+
+'At every point a letter from you--a letter which the ablest expert
+would tell was your handwriting. Your name covers and vouches for
+everything.'
+
+'Did you tell the manager what has happened?'
+
+'Certainly; I told him everything. And this is in substance the line he
+takes. "Your Partner," he says, "alleges that those papers have been
+procured by forgery. He says that the letter of introduction is a
+forgery. Very good. It may be so. But I have opened this account for a
+customer who brought me an introduction from the best solicitor in
+London, whose handwriting I know well, and recognise in the letter. Such
+an allegation would not be enough in itself for me to take action: until
+a civil or criminal action is brought--until it is concluded--I could
+not refuse to treat the customer like all the rest. At the same time I
+will take what steps I can to inquire into my customer's antecedents."'
+
+'Quite right,' said Mr. Dering.
+
+'I asked him next, what he would do if the customer sent for the papers.
+He said that if an action were brought, he would probably be served with
+a _sub poena duces tecum_, making him keep and produce these papers as
+forming part of the documents in the case.'
+
+'Certainly, certainly; the manager knows his law.'
+
+'"And," he went on, "as regards cheques, I shall pay them or receive
+them until restrained."'
+
+'In other words, he said what we expected. For our own action now.'
+
+'We might apply to a judge in Chambers for an attachment or a garnishee
+order. That must be _pendente lite_, an interlocutory proceeding, in the
+action. As yet, we have not brought an action at all. My partner'--Mr.
+Dering rubbed his hands cheerfully--'I think we have done very well so
+far. These are clumsy scoundrels, after all. They thought to divert
+suspicion by using my name. They thought to cover themselves with my
+name. But they should have sold and realised without the least delay.
+Very good. We have now got our hands upon the papers. It would have
+complicated matters horribly had the stock been sold and transferred. So
+far we are safe. Because, you see, after what they have heard, the Bank
+would certainly not give them up without letting us know. They would
+warn us: they would put the man off: they would ask him awkward
+questions about himself. Oh! I think we are safe--quite safe.'
+
+Mr. Dering drew a long breath. 'I was thinking last night,' he
+continued, 'of the trouble we might have if those certificates had
+changed hands. They might have been bought and sold a dozen times in
+four months: they might have been sold in separate small lots, and an
+order of the Court necessary for every transaction. We have now nothing
+but the simple question before us: how did the man Edmund Gray get
+possession of this property?'
+
+He sat in silence for a few minutes. Then he went on quietly. 'To lose
+this money would be a heavy blow for me--not all my fortune, nor a
+quarter, but a large sum. I have plenty left. I have no hungry and
+expectant heirs: my people are all wealthy. But yet a very heavy loss.
+And then--to be robbed. I have always wondered why we left off hanging
+robbers. They ought to be hanged, every one. He who invades the sacred
+right of property should be killed--killed without hope of mercy.' He
+spoke with the earnestness of sincerity. 'To lose this property would
+not be ruin to me; yet it would be terrible. It would take so many years
+out of my past life. Every year means so much money saved. Forty
+thousand pounds means ten years of my past--not taken away so that I
+should be ten years younger, but, ten years of work annihilated. Could I
+forgive the man who would so injure me? Never.'
+
+'I understand,' said George. 'Fortunately, we shall get the papers
+back. The fact of their possession must connect the possessor with
+the fraud. Who is he? Can he be warned already? Yet who should tell
+him? Who knows that we have discovered the business? You--your friend
+Mr. Ellis--the manager of the Bank--no one else. Yes--there is also
+Checkley--Checkley,' he repeated. He could not--yet--express his
+suspicions as to the old and faithful servant. 'Checkley also knows.'
+
+At this point Checkley himself opened the door and brought in a
+card--that of the Bank manager.
+
+'I have called,' said the visitor hurriedly, 'to tell you of something
+important, that happened this morning. I did not know it when we were
+talking over this business, Mr. Austin. It happened at ten o'clock, as
+soon as the doors were open. A letter was brought by hand from Mr.
+Dering----'
+
+'Another forgery! When will they stop?'
+
+'----asking for those certificates to be given to the bearer--Mr. Edmund
+Gray's certificates. This was done. They are no longer at the Bank.'
+
+'Oh! Then they have been warned,' cried George. 'Who was the messenger?'
+
+'He was a boy. Looked like an office boy.'
+
+'I will inquire directly if it was one of our boys. Go on.'
+
+'That settles the difficulty as to our action in case the papers are
+wanted by you. We no longer hold them. As to the dividends, we shall
+continue to receive them to the account of Mr. Edmund Gray until we get
+an order or an injunction.'
+
+'The difficulty,' said George, 'is to connect the case with Mr. Edmund
+Gray bodily. At present, we have nothing but the letters to go upon.
+Suppose the real Edmund Gray says that he knows nothing about it. What
+are we to do? You remember receiving the dividends for him. Has he drawn
+a cheque?'
+
+'No; we have never paid any cheque at all for him.'
+
+'Have you seen him?'
+
+'No; I have never seen him.'
+
+'It is a most wonderful puzzle. After all, the withdrawal of the papers
+can only mean a resolution to sell them. He must instruct somebody. He
+must appear in the matter.'
+
+'He may instruct somebody as he instructed me--in the name of Mr.
+Dering.'
+
+'Another forgery.'
+
+'Yes,' said George. 'We must watch and find out this mysterious Edmund
+Gray. After all, it will not help us to say that a forged letter gave
+certain instructions to do certain things for a certain person--say the
+Queen--unless you can establish the complicity of that person. And
+that--so far--we certainly have not done. Meantime--what next?'
+
+Obviously, the next thing was to find out if any of the office boys had
+taken that letter to the Bank. No one had been sent on that errand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+CHECKLEY'S CASE
+
+
+That evening Mr. Checkley was not in his customary place at the
+_Salutation_, where his presence was greatly desired. He arrived late,
+when it wanted only a quarter to eleven. The faded barrister was left
+alone in the room, lingering over the day's paper with his empty glass
+beside him. Mr. Checkley entered with an air of triumph, and something
+like the elastic spring of a victor in his aged step. He called Robert,
+and ordered at his own expense, for himself, a costly drink--a compound
+of Jamaica rum, hot water, sugar and lemon, although it was an evening
+in July and, for the time of year, almost pleasantly warm. Nor did he
+stop here, for with the manner of a man who just for once--to mark a
+joyful occasion--plunges, he rattled his money in his pocket and ordered
+another for the barrister. 'For,' he said, 'this evening I have done a
+good work, and I will mark the day.'
+
+When the glasses were brought, he lifted his and cried: 'Come, let us
+drink to the confusion of all Rogues, great and small. Down with 'em!'
+
+'Your toast, Mr. Checkley,' replied the barrister, 'would make my
+profession useless; if there were no rogues, there would be no Law.
+That, however, would injure me less than many of my brethren. I drink,
+therefore, confusion to Rogues, great and small. Down with 'em.--This is
+excellent grog.--Down with 'em!' So saying, he finished his glass and
+departed to his garret, where, thanks to the grog, he slept nobly, and
+dreamed that he was a Master in Chancery.
+
+The reason of this unaccustomed mirth was as follows: Checkley by this
+time had fully established in his own mind the conclusion that the
+prime mover in the deed--the act--the Thing--was none other than the new
+partner, the young upstart, whom he hated with a hatred
+unextinguishable. He was as certain about him as he had been certain
+about Athelstan Arundel, and for much the same reasons. Very well. As
+yet he had not dared to speak: King Pharaoh's chief scribe would have
+had the same hesitation at proffering any theory concerning Joseph.
+To-night, however---- But you shall hear.
+
+Everybody was out of the office at half-past seven, when he left it. He
+walked round the empty rooms, looking into unlocked drawers--one knows
+not what he expected to find. He looked into Mr. Austin's room and shook
+his fist and grinned at the empty chair.
+
+'I'll have you yet,' he said. 'Oh, fox! fox! I'll have you, if I wait
+for thirty years?'
+
+It adds an additional pang to old age when one feels that if the end
+comes prematurely, when one is only ninety or so, there may be a revenge
+unfinished. I have always envied the dying hero who had no enemies to
+forgive because he had killed them all.
+
+When Checkley left the place he walked across the Inn and so into
+Chancery Lane, where he crossed over and entered Gray's Inn by the
+Holborn archway. He lingered in South Square: he walked all round it
+twice: he read the names on the door-posts, keeping all the time an eye
+on No. 22. Presently, he was rewarded. A figure which he knew, tall and
+well proportioned, head flung back, walked into the Inn and made
+straight for No. 22. It was none other than Athelstan Arundel.--The old
+man crept into the entrance, where he was partly hidden; he could see
+across the Square, himself unseen. Athelstan walked into the house and
+up the stairs: the place was quiet: Checkley could hear his steps on the
+wooden stairs: he heard him knock at a door--he heard the door open and
+the voices of men talking.
+
+'Ah!' said Checkley, 'now we've got 'em!'
+
+Well--but this was not all. For presently there came into the Inn young
+Austin himself.
+
+'Oh!' said Checkley, finishing his sentence--'on toast. Here's the
+other; here they are--both.'
+
+In fact, George, too, entered the house known as No. 22 and walked up
+the stairs.
+
+Checkley waited for no more. He ran out of the Inn and he called a cab.
+
+If he had waited a little longer, he would have seen the new partner
+come out of the house and walk away: if he had followed him up the
+stairs, he would have seen him knocking at the closed outer door of Mr.
+Edmund Gray. If he had knocked at the door opposite, he would have found
+Mr. Athelstan Arundel in the room with his own acquaintance, Mr. Freddy
+Carstone, the Cambridge scholar and the ornament of their circle at the
+_Salutation_. But being in a hurry, he jumped to a conclusion and called
+a cab.
+
+He drove to Palace Gardens, where Sir Samuel had his town-house. Sir
+Samuel was still at dinner. He sat down in the hall, meekly waiting.
+After a while the Service condescended to ask if he wished a message to
+be taken in to Sir Samuel.
+
+'From his brother's--from Mr. Dering's office, please tell him. From his
+brother's office--on most important business--most important--say.'
+
+Sir Samuel received him kindly, made him sit down, and gave him a glass
+of wine. 'Now,' he said, 'tell me what it all means. My brother has had
+a robbery--papers and certificates and things--of course they are
+stopped. He won't lose anything. But it is a great nuisance, this kind
+of thing.'
+
+'He has already lost four months' dividends--four months, sir, on
+thirty-eight thousand pounds. And do you really think that he will get
+back his papers?'
+
+'Certainly--or others. They are, after all, only vouchers. How is my
+brother?'
+
+'Well, Sir Samuel, better than you'd think likely. This morning, to be
+sure----' He stopped, being loth to tell how his master had lost
+consciousness. 'Well, sir, I've been thinking that the property was
+gone, and from what I know of them as had to do with the job, I thought
+there was mighty little chance of getting it back. It kept me awake. Oh!
+it's an awful sum. Close upon forty thousand pounds. He can stand that
+and double that----'
+
+'And double that again,' said Sir Samuel. 'I should hope so.'
+
+'Certainly, sir. But it's a blow-- I can feel for him. I'm only a clerk;
+but I've saved a bit and put out a bit, Sir Samuel. Cheese-parings,
+you'd say; but I've enjoyed saving it up--oh! I've enjoyed it. I don't
+think there is any pleasure in life like saving up--watching it
+grow--and grow and grow--it grows like a pretty flower, doesn't it?--and
+adding to it. Ah!' he sighed, and drank his glass of wine. 'Sir Samuel,
+if I was to lose my little savings, it would break my heart. I'm an old
+man, and so is he--it would break me up, it would indeed. Ever since
+yesterday morning, I've been thinking whether anything could happen to
+make me lose my money. There's Death in the thought. Sir Samuel--for an
+old man--and a small man--like me--there's Death in the thought.'
+
+'Don't tell anybody where your investments are, and lock up the papers,
+Checkley.--Now, what do you want me to do for you?'
+
+'I want you to listen to me for half an hour, Sir Samuel, and to give me
+your advice, for the business is too much for me.'
+
+'Go on, then. I am listening.'
+
+'Very well. Now, sir, I don't know if I shall be able to make my case
+clear--but I will try. I haven't been about Mr. Dering for fifty years
+for nothing, I hope. The case is this. Nine years ago, a man calling
+himself Edmund Gray took Chambers in South Square, Gray's Inn, forty
+pounds a year. He is represented as being an elderly man. He has paid
+his rent regularly, but he visits his Chambers at irregular intervals.
+Eight years ago there was a forgery at your brother's. The cheque was
+payable to the order of Edmund Gray; mark that. The money was paid----'
+
+'I remember. Athelstan Arundel was accused or suspected of the thing.'
+
+'He was. And he ran away to avoid being arrested. Remember that. And
+he's never been heard of since. Well, the series of forgeries by which
+the shares and stocks belonging to Mr. Dering have been stolen are all
+written in the same handwriting as the first, and are all carried on in
+the name and for the order of Edmund Gray. That you would acknowledge in
+a moment if you saw the papers: there are the same lines and curves of
+the letters----'
+
+'Which proves, I should say, that Athelstan never did it.'
+
+'Wait a minute. Don't let's be in a hurry. The forgers by themselves
+could do nothing. They wanted some one in the office, some one always
+about the place: some one who could get at the safe: some one who could
+get from the office what the man outside wanted: some one to intercept
+the letters----'
+
+'Well?'
+
+'That person, Sir Samuel, I have found.'
+
+Sir Samuel sat up. 'You have found him?'
+
+'I have. And here's my difficulty. Because, Sir Samuel, he is your
+brother's new partner; and unless we lodge him in the Jug before many
+days, he will be your own brother-in-law.'
+
+Sir Samuel changed colour, and got up to see that the door behind the
+screen was shut. 'This is a very serious thing to say, Checkley--a very
+serious thing.'
+
+'Oh! I will make it quite plain. First, as to opportunities; next, as to
+motives; third, as to facts. For opportunities, then. Latterly, for the
+last six months, he's been working in the Chief's office nearly all day
+long. There he sat, at the little table between the windows, just half
+turned round to catch the light, with the open safe within easy reach of
+his hand when the Chief wasn't looking; or when--because he doesn't
+always touch the bell--Mr. Dering would bring papers into my office and
+leave him alone--ah! alone--with the safe. That's for opportunities. Now
+for motives. He's been engaged for two years, I understand, to a young
+lady----'
+
+'To Lady Dering's sister.'
+
+'Just so, sir. And I believe, until the unexpected luck of his
+partnership, against the wish of Lady Dering's family.'
+
+'That is true.'
+
+'He had two hundred a year. And he had nothing else--no prospects and no
+chances. So I think you will acknowledge that there's sufficient motive
+here for him to try anything.'
+
+'Well, if poverty is a motive--no doubt he had one.'
+
+'Poverty was the motive. You couldn't have a stronger motive. There
+isn't in the whole world a stronger motive--though, I admit, some young
+men who are pore may keep honest. I did. Mr. Austin, I take it, is one
+of those that don't keep honest. That's for motive. Now for facts. Mr.
+Austin had nothing to do with the forgery eight years ago; he was only
+an articled clerk beginning. But he knew young Arundel who did the
+thing, remember. That cheque was written by young Arundel, who ran away.
+The letters of this year are written by _the same hand_--by your
+brother-in-law, Sir Samuel--by Mr. Athelstan Arundel.'
+
+'But he is gone: he has disappeared: nobody knows where he is.'
+
+Checkley laughed. This was a moment of triumph. 'He is back again, Sir
+Samuel. I have seen him.'
+
+'Where? Athelstan back again?'
+
+'I will tell you. All these forgeries use the name of Edmund Gray, of 22
+South Square, Gray's Inn. I have told you that before. When the thing is
+discovered, young Austin goes off and makes himself mighty busy tracking
+and following up, hunting down, doing detective work, and so on. Oh! who
+so busy as he? Found out that Edmund Gray was an old man, if you please;
+and this morning again, so cheerful and lively that it does your heart
+good--going to settle it all in a day or two. Yah! As if I couldn't see
+through his cunning! Why! I'm seventy-five years old. I'm up to every
+kind of dodge: what will happen next, unless you cut in? First, we shall
+hear that Mr. Edmund Gray has gone abroad, or has vanished, or
+something. When he's quite out of the way, we shall find out that he did
+the whole thing--him and nobody else. And then if there's no more money
+to be made by keeping the papers, they will all come back--from Edmund
+Gray, penitent--oh! I know.'
+
+'But about Athelstan Arundel?'
+
+'To be sure. I'm an old man, Sir Samuel, and I talk too much. Well, I go
+most nights to a parlour in Holborn--the _Salutation_ it is--where the
+company is select and the liquor good. There I saw him a week ago. He
+was brought in by one of the company. I knew him at once, and he wasn't
+in hiding. Used his own name. But he didn't see me. No--no, thinks I. We
+won't give this away. I hid my face behind a newspaper. He's been
+staying in Camberwell for the last eight years, I believe, all the
+time.'
+
+'In Camberwell? Why in Camberwell?'
+
+'In bad company--as I was given to understand. In Prodigal Son's
+company.'
+
+'You don't mean this, Checkley? Is it really true?'
+
+'It is perfectly true, Sir Samuel. I have seen him. He was dressed like
+a Prince--velvet jacket and crimson tie and white waistcoat. And he
+walked in with just his old insolence--nose up, head back, looking round
+as if we were not fit to be in the same room with him--just as he used
+to do.'
+
+'By Jove!' said Sir Samuel, thrusting his hands into his pockets. 'What
+will Hilda say--I mean--Lady Dering, say, when she hears it?'
+
+'There is more to hear, Sir Samuel--not much more. But it drives the
+nail home--a nail in their coffin, I hope and trust.'
+
+'Go on. Let me hear all.'
+
+'You've caught on, have you, to all I said about Edmund Gray of 22 South
+Square--him as was mentioned eight years ago--and about the handwriting
+being the same now as then?'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'So that the same hand which forged the cheque then has forged the
+letters now?'
+
+'Quite so.'
+
+'I said then--and I say now--that young Arundel forged that cheque. I
+say now that he is the forger of these letters, and that Austin stood in
+with him and was his confidant. What do you think of this? To-night,
+after office, I thought I would go and have a look at 22 South Square.
+So I walked up and down on the other side: my eyes are pretty good
+still: I thought I should perhaps see something presently over the way.
+So I did. Who should come into the Square, marching along as if the old
+place, Benchers and all, belonged to him, but Mr. Athelstan Arundel! He
+pulled up at No. 22--No. 22, mind--Edmund Gray's number--he walked
+up-stairs--I heard him--to the second floor--Edmund Gray's floor.'
+
+'Good Lord!' cried Sir Samuel. 'This is suspicious with a vengeance.'
+
+'Oh! but I haven't done. I stayed where I was, wondering if he would
+come down, and whether I should meet him and ask him what he was doing
+with Edmund Gray. And then--I was richly rewarded--oh! rich was the
+reward, for who should come into the Square but young Austin himself!
+He, too, went up the stairs of No. 22. And there I left them both, and
+came away--came to put the case into your hands.'
+
+'What do you want me to do?'
+
+'I want you to advise me. What shall I do? There is my case complete--I
+don't suppose you want a more complete case--for any Court of Justice.'
+
+'Well, as for that, I'm not a lawyer. As a City man, if a clerk of mine
+was in such a suspicious position as young Austin, I should ask him for
+full explanations. You've got no actual proof, you see, that he, or
+Athelstan either, did the thing.'
+
+'I beg your pardon, Sir Samuel. I'm only a clerk, and you're a great
+City Knight, but I don't know what better proof you want. Don't I see
+young Austin pretending not to know who Edmund Gray is, and then going
+up to his Chambers to meet his pal Athelstan Arundel? Ain't that proof?
+Don't I tell you that the same hand had been at work in both forgeries?
+Isn't that hand young Arundel's?'
+
+'Checkley, I see that you are greatly interested in this matter----'
+
+'I would give--ah!--twenty pounds--yes, twenty hard-earned pounds to see
+those two young gentlemen in the Dock--where they shall be--where they
+shall be,' he repeated. His trembling voice, cracked with old age,
+seemed unequally wedded to the malignity of his words and his
+expression.
+
+'One of these young gentlemen,' said Sir Samuel, 'is my brother-in-law.
+The other, unless this business prevents, will be my brother-in-law
+before many days. You will, therefore, understand that my endeavours
+will be to keep them both out of the Dock.'
+
+'The job will be only half complete without; but still--to see young
+Austin drove out of the place--with disgrace--same as the other one
+was--why, that should be something--something to think about
+afterwards.'
+
+Checkley went away. Sir Samuel sat thinking what was best to be done.
+Like everybody else, he quite believed in Athelstan's guilt. Granted
+that fact, he saw clearly that there was another very black-looking case
+against him and against George Austin. What should be done? He would
+consult his wife. He did so.
+
+'What will Elsie say?' she asked. 'Yet, sooner or later, she must be
+told. I suppose that will be my task. But she can wait a little. Do you
+go to-morrow morning to Mr. Dering and tell him. The sooner he knows the
+better.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+You now understand why Mr. Checkley was so joyous when he arrived at the
+_Salutation_, and why he proposed that toast.
+
+In the morning Sir Samuel saw his brother and whispered in his ear the
+whole of the case, as prepared and drawn up by Checkley. 'What do you
+say?' he asked when he had concluded.
+
+'I say nothing.' Mr. Dering had heard all the points brought out one
+after the other without the least emotion. 'There is nothing to be
+said.'
+
+'But, my dear brother, the evidence!'
+
+'There is no evidence. It is all supposition. If Athelstan committed the
+first forgery--there is no evidence to show that he did--if he has been
+living all these years a life of profligacy in England--I have evidence
+to the contrary in my own possession--if he was tempted by poverty--if
+young Austin was also tempted by poverty--if the two together--or either
+separately--could undertake, under temptation, risks so terrible--you
+see, the whole case is built upon an "if."'
+
+'Yet it holds together at every point. It is a perfect case. Who else
+could do it? Checkley certainly could not. That old man--that old
+servant.'
+
+'I agree with you, Checkley could not do it. Not because he is too
+old--age has nothing to do with crime--nor because he is an old servant.
+He could not do it because he is not clever enough. This kind of thing
+wants grasp and vision. Checkley hasn't got either. He might be a
+confederate. He may have stopped the letters. He is miserly--he might be
+tempted by money. Yet I do not think it possible.'
+
+'No--I cannot believe that,' said Sir Samuel.
+
+'Yet it is quite as difficult to believe such a thing of young Austin.
+Oh! I know everything is possible. He belongs to a good family: he has
+his own people to think of: he is engaged--he has always led a blameless
+life. Yet--yet--everything is possible.'
+
+'I have known cases in the City where the blameless seeming was only a
+pretence and a cloak--most deplorable cases, I assure you--the cloak to
+hide a profligate life.'
+
+'I think if that were so, I should not be deceived. Outward signs in
+such cases are not wanting. I know the face of the profligate, open or
+concealed. Young Austin presents no sign of anything but a regular and
+blameless life. For all these reasons, I say, we ought to believe him
+incapable of any dishonourable action. But I have been in practice for
+fifty years--fifty years--during this long period I know not how many
+cases--what are called family cases--have been in my hands. I have had
+in this room the trembling old profligate of seventy, ready to pay any
+price rather than let the thing be known to his old wife, who believes
+in him, and his daughters, who worship him. I have had the middle-aged
+man of standing in the City imploring me to buy back the paper--at any
+price--which would stamp him with infamy. I have had the young man on
+his knees begging me never to let his father know the forgery, the
+theft, the villainy, the seduction--what not. And I have had women of
+every age sitting in that chair confessing their wickedness, which they
+do for the most part with hard faces and cold eyes, not like the men,
+with shame and tears. The men fall being tempted by want of money, which
+means loss of pride and self-respect, and position, and comfort. There
+ought to have been a clause in the Litany, "From want of money at all
+ages and on all occasions, Good Lord, deliver us."'
+
+'True--most true,' said Sir Samuel. '"From want of money"--I shall say
+this next time I go to church--"from want of money at all ages, and
+particularly when one is getting on in years, and has a title to keep
+up--Good Lord, deliver us." Very good indeed, brother. I shall quote
+this in the City. To-morrow, I have to make a speech at the Helmet
+Makers' Company. I shall quote this very remarkable saying of yours.'
+
+Mr. Dering smiled gravely. 'A simple saying, indeed. The greatest
+temptation of any is the want of money. Why, there is nothing that the
+average man will not do rather than be without money. He is helpless: he
+is a slave: he is in contempt: without money.--Austin, you tell me, was
+tempted by want of money. I think not. He was poor: he had enough to
+keep him: he was frugal: he had simple wants: he had never felt the want
+of money. No--I do not think that he was tempted by poverty. Everything
+is possible--this is possible.--But, brother, silence. If you speak
+about this, you may injure the young man, supposing him to be innocent.
+If he is guilty, you will put him on his guard. And, mind, I shall show
+no foolish mercy--none--when we find the guilty parties. All the more
+reason, therefore, for silence.'
+
+Sir Samuel promised. But he had parted with the secret--he had given it
+into the keeping of a woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+WHO IS EDMUND GRAY?
+
+
+Athelstan laughed on the first hearing of the thing--it was on the
+Tuesday evening, the day after the discovery, and George was dining with
+him. He laughed both loud and long and with some of the old bitterness.
+'So the notes were in the safe all along, were they? Who put them there?
+"I," says old Checkley, "with my pretty fingers--I put them there."'
+
+'As soon as this other business is over, the Chief must tell your
+mother, Athelstan. It ought to come from him. I shall say nothing to
+Elsie just yet. She shall learn that you are home again, and that your
+name is clear again, at the same moment.'
+
+'I confess that I should be pleased to make them all confess that their
+suspicions were hasty and unfounded. At the same time I did wrong to go
+away; I ought to have stuck to my post. As for this other business, one
+thinks with something like satisfaction of the wise old lawyer losing
+forty thousand pounds. It made him sit up, did it? For such a man to sit
+up indicates the presence of deep emotion. Lost forty thousand pounds!
+And he who holds so strongly to the sanctity of Property! Forty thousand
+pounds!'
+
+'Well; but we shall recover the certificates, or get new ones in their
+place.'
+
+'I suppose so. Shares can't be lost or stolen, really--can they?
+Meantime, there may be difficulty, and you must try to find the forger.
+Has it yet occurred to you that Checkley is the only man who has had
+control of the letters and access at all times to the office?'
+
+'It has.'
+
+'Checkley is not exactly a fox: he is a jackal: therefore he does
+somebody's dirty work for him at a wage. That is the way with the
+jackal, you know. Eight years ago he tried to make a little pile by a
+little forgery--he did not commit the forgery, I am sure--but he did the
+jackal; only he forgot that notes are numbered: so when he remembered
+that, he put them back. Now, his friend the forger, who is no doubt a
+begging-letter writer, has devised an elaborate scheme for getting hold
+of shares--ignorant that they are of no value.'
+
+'Well, he has drawn the dividends for four months.'
+
+'That is something, you see; but he hoped to get hold of thirty-eight
+thousand pounds. It is the same hand at work, you infer from the
+writing. You are quite sure of that?'
+
+'There can be no doubt of it. How could two different hands present
+exactly the same curious singularities?'
+
+'And all the letters, cheques, and transfers for the same person. What
+is his name?'
+
+'One Edmund Gray, resident at 22 South Square, Gray's Inn.'
+
+'No. 22? Oh! that is where Freddy Carstone lives. Do you know anything
+about the _nommé_ Edmund Gray?'
+
+'I have been in search of information about him. He is described by the
+landlord of the rooms and by his laundress as an elderly gentleman.'
+
+'Elderly. Checkley is elderly.'
+
+'Yes, I thought of Checkley, of course. But somehow the indications
+don't fit. My informants speak of a gentleman. Nobody at his kindliest
+and most benevolent mood could possibly call Checkley a gentleman.'
+
+'The word gentleman,' said Athelstan, 'is elastic. It stretches with the
+employer or the consumer of it. It is like the word truth to a
+politician. It varies from man to man. You cannot lay down any
+definition of the word gentleman. Do you know nothing more about him?'
+
+'A little. He has held this set of Chambers for nine years, and he pays
+his rent regularly before the day it falls due. Also I called upon him
+the other day when his laundress was at work and wrote a note to him at
+his table. The room is full of Socialist books and pamphlets. He is
+therefore, presumably, a Socialist leader.'
+
+'I know all their leaders,' said Athelstan the Journalist.
+
+'I've made the acquaintance of most for business purposes. I've had to
+read up the Socialist Literature and to make the acquaintance of their
+chiefs. There is no Edmund Gray among them. Stay--there is a Socialist
+letter in the _Times_ of to-day--surely---- Waiter'--they were dining at
+the club where Athelstan was a temporary member--'let me have the
+_Times_ of to-day. Yes, I thought so. Here is a letter from the
+Socialist point of view, signed by Edmund Gray--and--and yes--look
+here--it is most curious--with the same address--22 South Square--a long
+letter, in small print, and put in the supplement; but it's there. See;
+signed "Edmund Gray." What do you think of that, for impudence in a
+forger?'
+
+George read the letter through carefully. It was a whole column long;
+and it was in advocacy of Socialism pure and simple. One was surprised
+that the editor had allowed it to appear. Probably he was influenced by
+the tone of it, which was generous, cheerful, and optimistic. There was
+not the slightest ring of bitterness about it. 'We who look,' it said,
+'for the coming disappearance of Property, not by violence and
+revolution, but by a rapid process of decay and wasting away, regard the
+present position of the holders of Property with the greatest
+satisfaction. Everywhere there are encouraging signs. Money which
+formerly obtained five per cent. now yields no more than half that rate.
+Shares which were formerly paying ten, twelve, and twenty per cent. are
+now falling steadily. Companies started every day in the despairing hope
+of the old great gains, fail and are wound up. Land, which the old wars
+forced up to an extraordinary value, has now sunk so enormously that
+many landlords have lost three-fourths and even more of their income.
+All those enterprises which require the employment of many hands--as
+docks, railways, printing-houses, manufactories of all kinds--are
+rapidly falling into the condition of being able to pay no dividend at
+all, because the pay of the men and the maintenance of the plant absorb
+all. When that point is reached, the whole capital--the
+millions--embarked in these enterprises will be lost for ever. The stock
+cannot be sold because it produces nothing: it has vanished. In other
+words, sir, what I desire to point out to your readers is that while you
+are discussing or denouncing Socialism, the one condition which makes
+Socialism possible and necessary is actually coming upon the
+world--namely, the destruction of capital. Why have not men in all ages
+combined to work for themselves? Because capital has prevented them.
+When there is no capital left to employ them, to bully them, to make
+laws against their combinations, or to bribe them, they will then have
+to work with and for themselves or starve. The thing will be forced upon
+them. Work will be a necessity for everybody: there will be no more a
+privileged class: all who work will be paid at equal rates for their
+work: those who refuse to work will be suffered to starve.'
+
+The letter went on to give illustrations of the enormous losses in
+capital during the last fifteen years, when the shrinkage began. It
+concluded: 'For my own part, I confess that the prospect of the future
+fills me with satisfaction. No more young men idle, middle-aged men
+pampered, and old men looking back to a wasted life: nobody trying to
+save, because the future of the old, the widows, the children, the
+decayed, and the helpless, will be a charge upon the strong and the
+young--that is, upon the juvenes, the workers of the State. No more
+robbery: no more unproductive classes. Do not think that there will be
+no more men of science and of learning. These, too, will be considered
+workers. Or no more poets, dramatists, artists, novelists. These, too,
+will be considered workers. And do not fear the coming of that time. It
+is stealing upon us as surely, as certainly, as the decay of the powers
+in old age. Doubt not that when it comes we shall have become well
+prepared for it. Those of us who are old may lament that we shall not
+live to see the day when the last shred of property is cast into the
+common hoard. Those of us who are young have all the more reason to
+rejoice in their youth, because they may live to see the Great Day of
+Humanity dawn at last.--EDMUND GRAY, 22 South Square, Gray's Inn.'
+
+'You have read this?' asked George.
+
+'Yes; I read it this morning before I knew the significance of the
+signature. Letter of a dreamer. He sees what might happen, and thinks
+that it will happen. Capital is too strong yet.'
+
+'Is this the letter of a forger, a conspirator--a thief?'
+
+'It does not strike me in that light. Yet many great thieves are most
+amiable in their private lives. There is no reason why this dreamer of
+dreams should not be also a forger and a thief. Still, the case would be
+remarkable, I admit.'
+
+'Can there be two Edmund Grays--father and son?'
+
+'Can there be a clerk to Edmund Gray, imprudently using his master's
+name, and ready to open any letter that may come? Consider--Clerk is a
+friend of old Checkley. Clerk invents the scheme. Checkley does his
+share. However, we can easily find out something more about the man,
+because my old friend, Freddy Carstone, has Chambers on the same floor.
+We will walk over after dinner, and if Freddy happens to be sober--he
+is about this time pleasantly, not stupidly, drunk, as a rule--he will
+tell us what he knows about his neighbour.'
+
+'I ought to see Elsie this evening, but this is more important.'
+
+'Much more. Send her a telegram. Waiter, we will take coffee here. So.
+You have got the conduct of the case in your own hands. What has
+Checkley got?'
+
+'Nothing. I believe he is jealous of me. I don't know why. But it does
+not matter what an old man like that thinks.'
+
+'Even an old man can strike a match and light a fire. Checkley is a
+malignant old man. He is quite capable of charging you with the job. I
+wonder he hasn't done it by this time. Remember my case, old man.'
+Athelstan's face darkened at the recollection. 'Dirt sticks sometimes.
+Look at me. I am smirched all over.'
+
+'His manner was very odd this morning--insolent and strange. He began to
+talk mysteriously of the ingratitude of the forger.'
+
+'Why he's actually going to do it! Don't you see--he means that you are
+the forger?'
+
+'Oh! does he? Very well, Athelstan'--George finished his coffee and got
+up--'the sooner we find out this mystery of this Edmund Gray the better.
+Let us seek your tipsy Scholar.'
+
+They walked from Piccadilly to Holborn, turning the thing over and
+making a dozen surmises. Edmund Gray, twins: Edmund Gray, father and
+son--father wanting to destroy property, a Socialist; son wanting to
+steal property, individualist: Edmund Gray cousins--one the mild
+philosopher, rejoicing in the decay of wealth; the other a bandit,
+robber and conspirator: Edmund Gray, father and daughter--the young lady
+of the advanced type, who has not only thrown over her religion but her
+morals also: Edmund Gray, master and clerk: Edmund Gray under domination
+of a villain: there was in every situation a noble chance for the
+imagination. George showed a capacity unsuspected: he should have been a
+novelist. The hypothesis was always beautiful and admirable: but it
+wanted one thing--_vraisemblance_: one felt, even while advancing and
+defending one, that it was impossible.
+
+They turned into the gateway of the Inn and walked down the passage into
+the Square. 'Look!' Athelstan caught his companion by the wrist. 'Who is
+that?'
+
+'Checkley himself. He is coming out of No 22!'
+
+'Yes, out of 22. What is he doing there? Eh? What has he been doing
+there?'
+
+It was Checkley. The old man walking feebly, with bent head, came out
+from the entrance of No. 22 and turned northward into Field Court. They
+waited, watching him, until he left the Square. 'What is he doing
+there?' asked George again. 'Come. Edmund Gray must be at home. Let us
+go up.'
+
+They found the outer door shut. They knocked with their sticks: there
+was no answer.
+
+'What was he doing here?' asked Athelstan.
+
+The Scholar's door stood open. The Scholar himself was for once
+perfectly sober, and welcomed them joyously and boisterously.
+
+'We are here on business, Freddy,' said Athelstan.
+
+'You are here to sit and talk and drink whisky-and-soda till midnight,
+till two o'clock in the morning. It is not until two in the morning that
+you can get the full flavour of the Inn. It is like a college then,
+monastic, shut off from the world, peaceful----'
+
+'Business first, then. You know your neighbour, Mr. Edmund Gray?'
+
+'Certainly. We exchange the compliments of the season and the news of
+the weather when we meet on the stairs. He has been in here, but not
+often. A man who drinks nothing is your true damper. That, believe me,
+and no other, was the veritable skeleton at the Feast.'
+
+'Our business concerns your neighbour, Mr. Edmund Gray. We want you to
+tell us what you know about him.'
+
+'Go on, then. Question, and I will answer, if I can.'
+
+'Does Mr. Edmund Gray live at these Chambers?'
+
+'No. He may sometimes sleep in them, but I should say not often. He
+calls at irregular intervals. Sometimes in the afternoon, sometimes in
+the morning, sometimes not for several weeks together. He is most
+uncertain.'
+
+'Do many people call upon him?'
+
+'No one ever calls upon him.'
+
+'Does he keep clerks? Does he carry on an extensive correspondence?'
+
+'I have never heard the postman knock at his door.'
+
+'Has he a son or a brother or a partner or anything?'
+
+'I don't know. He may have these hindrances, but they are not apparent.'
+
+'What is his occupation or trade?'
+
+'He is a Socialist. He is athirst for the destruction of property.
+Meantime, I believe, he lives on his own. Perhaps his will be spared to
+the last. He is an old gentleman of pleasant manners and of benevolent
+aspect. The old women beg of him; the children ask him the time; the
+people who have lost their way apply to him. He dreams all the time: he
+lives in a world impossible. Oh! quite impossible. Why, in a world all
+Socialist, I myself should be impossible. They wouldn't have me. My old
+friend told me the other day that I should not be tolerated. They would
+kill me. All because I do no work--or next to none.'
+
+George looked at Athelstan. 'We are farther off than ever,' he said.
+
+'Mr. Edmund Gray believes that the Kingdom of Heaven is a kind of hive
+where everybody has got to work with enormous zeal, and where nobody
+owns anything. Also he thinks that it is close at hand, which makes him
+a very happy old gentleman.'
+
+'This can't be Checkley,' said George.
+
+'It would seem not,' Athelstan replied. 'Did you ever see another old
+man up here--we saw him coming out just now--one Checkley, a lawyer's
+clerk?'
+
+'No; not up here. There is an elderly person--a Party--of the name, who
+uses the parlour of the _Salutation_, where I myself sometimes--one must
+relax--Porson loved a tavern; so did Johnson--I myself, I say, sometimes
+forget that I used to belong to the Combination room, and sit with
+Checkley and his companions. But I do not think he is a friend of Mr.
+Gray. As well call the Verger the friend of the Bishop. Mr. Gray is a
+gentleman and a scholar; he is a man of generous instincts and culture.
+He _could_ not be a friend of the man Checkley.'
+
+'Yet we saw Checkley coming out of this very staircase.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They talked of other things. They talked till midnight; when they came
+away the Scholar was at his best: one more glass--which he took after
+they left--would have turned the best into the worst.
+
+'We are as far off as before,' said George.
+
+'No--we are so much the nearer that we know who Edmund Gray is not. He
+is not Checkley. He has no clerks. He has no visitors. He comes seldom.
+George, this looks to me suspicious. We met Checkley stealing out of the
+door. Why does Edmund Gray keep these Chambers? No business done there:
+no letters brought there: no callers: the man does not live there. The
+Socialism may be--must be--a blind. Why does the man keep on these
+Chambers?'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meantime at the _Salutation_ the usual company was assembled. 'I fear,'
+said the barrister, 'that we shall not have our friend the Scholar here
+this evening. As I came down the stairs I saw him through his door
+receiving two gentlemen--young gentlemen. He will display his wonted
+hospitality upon them this evening instead.' He sighed, and called for
+the glass of old and mild mixed, which was all he could afford. Had the
+Scholar been with them, certainly there would have been a nobler and a
+costlier glass. He took up the morning paper and began to read it.
+
+The conversation went on slowly and with jerks. A dull conversation: a
+conversation of men without ideas: a day-before-yesterday conversation:
+the slow exchange of short, solid sentences taken from the paper, or
+overheard and adopted. We sometimes praise the old tavern life, and we
+regret the tavern talk. We need not: it was dull, gross, ignorant, and
+flat: it was commonplace and conventional: because it was so dull, the
+men were fain to sing songs and to propose sentiments, and to drink more
+than was good for them. Why and when do men drink more than is good for
+them? First, when and because things are desperately dull: there is
+nothing to interest them: give them animation, thoughts, amusements, and
+they will not begin to drink. When they have begun, they will go on.
+When they have arrived at a certain stage, let them drink as fast as
+they can, and so get out of the way, because they will never mend, and
+they only cumber the earth. Here is, you see, a complete solution--a
+short solution--of the whole drink question. It will not be accepted,
+because people like a long solution--a three-column solution.
+
+The barrister lifted his head. 'There is a letter here,' he said,
+interrupting the ex-M.P., who was clearing the way for what he called an
+argument by an introduction in the usual form. 'While on the one hand,
+gentlemen,' he was saying, 'I am free to confess----'
+
+'There is a letter here,' he repeated in a louder voice. The barrister
+was now old, but he could still assume at times the masterful manner of
+counsel before the Court, 'which should be read. It is a letter on
+Socialism.'
+
+'Ugh!' said the money-lender. 'Socialism! They want to destroy Property.
+Socialism! Don't tell me, sir.'
+
+'It is a dream of what might be--a noble--a generous letter.' He looked
+round him. In their dull and fishy eyes there was no gleam or sparkle of
+response. 'I forgot,' he said; 'you cannot be interested in such a
+letter.--I beg your pardon, sir.' He bowed with great courtesy to the
+ex-M.P. 'I interrupted your valuable observations. We shall listen, I am
+sure, with--the--greatest----' He buried his head in the paper again.
+
+The legislator began again. 'As I was a-saying, gentlemen, when I was
+interrupted, on the subject of education and the ratepayers, being a
+ratepayer myself, as we all are, and having our taxes to pay, which is
+the only advantage we ever get from being a ratepayer, while on the one
+hand I am free to confess----'
+
+'Why!' the barrister interrupted once again, 'this letter is from a man
+on our staircase, No. 22'--Checkley started--'an acquaintance of mine,
+if I can call him so, and of our friend the Scholar. A very able man,
+now somewhat in years. By name Edmund Gray.'
+
+'What?' said Checkley, 'Edmund Gray? You know Edmund Gray?'
+
+'Certainly. I have known him this nine years. Ever since he has been in
+the Inn.'
+
+'W-w-what sort of a man is he?' Checkley stammered in his eagerness.
+
+'A very good sort of a man. Why do you ask?'
+
+'I want to know--for his advantage--oh! yes--yes--for his own
+advantage.'
+
+'Yes.' The barrister retreated to his paper. 'Oh, yes,' he added. 'Quite
+so.'
+
+'For his great personal advantage,' Checkley repeated.--'Robert, I think
+the gentleman would take a tumbler, if you will bring it--hot,
+Robert--strong--with lemon and sugar--a large rummer, Robert.'
+
+The ancient barrister's head behind the paper was observed to tremble.
+
+Robert returned with his rummer, the glass spoon tinkling an invitation.
+Dinner had been but a sorry affair that day--a stop-gap--insufficient in
+bulk; the tempted man felt a yearning that could not be resisted. He
+stretched out his hand and took the glass and tasted it. Then turning to
+Checkley:
+
+'You have purchased my speech, sir. You were asking me about Mr. Edmund
+Gray. What do you wish to know?'
+
+'Everything--his business--his private life--anything.'
+
+'As for his business, he has none; he is a gentleman living on his
+means--like myself; but his means are larger than my own: he has a
+residence elsewhere--I don't know where; he uses his Chambers but
+little: he has a collection of books there, and he keeps them for
+purposes of study.'
+
+'Does he call there every day?'
+
+'No. Only at irregular times. Sometimes not for many weeks together.'
+
+'Has he got any friends?'
+
+'I should say that he has no friends at all--at least none that come to
+the Inn. I have never heard or seen anyone in his room. A quiet man. No
+slammer. An excellent man to have on the staircase. No trampler; doesn't
+tramp up and down like an elephant. Isn't brought home drunk.'
+
+'What does he look like?'
+
+'He is a man advanced in years--perhaps seventy--a good-looking
+man--very cheerful countenance: tall and well set up still--wears a long
+frock coat. And that I believe is all I know about him.'
+
+'That's all you've got to tell me, is it?'
+
+'That is all, Mr. Checkley. Except that he has written a very remarkable
+letter to the _Times_ of this morning.'
+
+'Well, sir, if that is all, it isn't much for your rum-and-water, let me
+tell you.'
+
+The barrister rose and poured the half-glass that remained into the
+cinders. 'Then let me drink no more than my information was worth,' he
+said; and at the sight of so much magnanimity the broad earth trembled
+and Mr. Checkley sat aghast.
+
+The ex-statesman cleared his throat and began again. 'After the third
+interruption, gentlemen, I may hope for a hearing. While, therefore, on
+the one hand----'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE VOICE OF DUTY
+
+
+Elsie in her studio was at work. She was painting a fancy portrait. You
+have seen how, before her interview with Mr. Dering, she transformed him
+from a hard and matter-of-fact lawyer into a genial, benevolent old
+gentleman. She was now elaborating this transformation. It is a
+delightful process, known to every portrait-painter, whereby a face
+faithfully represented becomes the face of another person, or the face
+as it might be, so that a hard and keen face, such as Mr. Dering's, may
+become a face ennobled with spiritual elevation, benevolence, charity,
+and kindness of heart. Or, on the other hand, without the least change
+of feature, this hard keen face may become, by the curve of a line or
+the addition of a shadow, the face of a cruel and pitiless Inquisitor.
+Or, again, any face, however blurred and marred by the life of its
+owner, may by the cunning portrait-painter be restored to the face
+intended by its Maker, that is to say, a sweet and serious face. Great
+indeed is the power, marvellous is the mystery, of the limner's art.
+
+'Now,' Elsie murmured, 'you look like some great philanthropist--a
+thoughtful philanthropist, not a foolish person: your high forehead and
+your sharp nostril proclaim that you are no impulsive gusher: your
+kindly eyes beam with goodness of heart: your lips are firm because you
+hate injustice. Oh, my dear guardian, how much I have improved you!
+Something like this you looked when you told me of my fortune--and like
+this when you spoke of your dream, and your illusions--something like
+this you looked.'
+
+She went on working at her fantasy, crooning a simple ditty, composed of
+many melodies running into one, as girls use when they are quite happy.
+The afternoon was hot. Outside, Elsie's windows looked upon a nest of
+little London gardens, where nasturtiums twisted round strings upon the
+walls; hollyhocks and sunflowers, which love the London smoke, lifted
+their heads; and Virginia creepers climbed to the house-tops. The
+little London gardens do sometimes look gay and bright in the yellow
+glow of a July afternoon. The window was open, and the room was almost
+as hot as the street outside; we get so few hot days that one here and
+there cannot be too hot. On the table lay a photograph of her lover;
+over the mantel hung her own drawing in Pastel of that swain; on her
+finger was his ring: round her neck lay his chain: all day long she was
+reminded of him, if she should cease for a moment to think of him. But
+there was no need of such reminder. It was Friday afternoon, four days
+after the great Discovery. Elsie had been informed of the event, the
+news of which she received after the feminine manner, with an
+ejaculation of surprise and an interjection of sympathy. But one cannot
+expect a girl on the eve of her marriage to be greatly distressed
+because her guardian, a rich man, is annoyed by the temporary loss of
+certain shares. And as to finding the criminal and getting back those
+shares--it was man's work. All the troublesome and disagreeable part of
+the world's work belongs to man.
+
+It was nearly five o'clock. Elsie was beginning to think that she had
+done enough, and that, after tea, a walk in the Gardens might be
+pleasant. Suddenly, without any noise or warning of steps outside, her
+door was opened and her sister Hilda appeared. Now, so swift is the
+feminine perception, that Elsie instantly understood that something had
+happened--something bad--something bad to herself. For first, the door
+was opened gently, as in a house of mourning; and next, Hilda had on a
+dress--lavender with heliotrope, costly, becoming, sympathetic, and
+sorrowful--a half-mourning dress--and she stood for a moment at the door
+with folded hands, her classical head inclined a little downward to the
+left, and her eyes drooping--an artistic attitude of sadness. Hilda not
+only said the right thing and held the proper sentiments, but she liked
+to assume the right attitude and to personate the right emotion. Now it
+is given to woman, and only to her when she is young, tall, and
+beautiful, to express by attitude all or any of the emotions which
+transport or torture her fellow-creatures. Hilda, you see, was an
+artist.
+
+'Come in, dear,' said Elsie. 'I am sure that you have got something
+disagreeable to tell me.'
+
+Hilda kissed her forehead. 'My poor child,' she murmured. 'If it could
+have been told you by anybody else!'
+
+'Well--let us hear it. Is it anything very disagreeable?'
+
+'It is terrible. I tremble--I dare not tell you. Yet I must. You ought
+to know.'
+
+'If you would go on. It is much more terrible to be kept in suspense.'
+
+'It is about George.'
+
+'Oh!' said Elsie, flaming. 'I have had so much trouble about George
+already, that I did think----'
+
+'My dear, all opposition of the former kind is removed, as you know.
+This is something very different. Worse,' she added in a hollow
+voice--'far worse.'
+
+'For Heaven's sake, get along.'
+
+'He has told you about the dreadful robbery. Of course you have talked
+about nothing else since it happened. I found my mother full of it.'
+
+'Yes--George is in charge of the case. He says that everything must be
+recovered, and that Mr. Dering will in the end suffer no more injury
+than the trouble of it.'
+
+'That may be so. Elsie--I hardly dare to tell you--there is a clue.
+Checkley has got that clue, and has told Sir Samuel everything. He is
+following up the clue. I shudder to think of it. The man is as
+relentless as a bloodhound.'
+
+'Does that clue concern me?' Her cheek became pale because she
+guessed--she knew not what.
+
+'Sir Samuel, against his will, is convinced that Checkley has found the
+clue. He has told me the whole. He has consented to my telling the
+dreadful story to my mother and to you--and now I am afraid. Yet I
+must.'
+
+Elsie made a gesture of impatience.
+
+'Go back, Elsie, eight years, if you can. Remember the wretched business
+of our unworthy brother.'
+
+'I remember it. Not unworthy, Hilda. Our most unfortunate brother. Why,
+they have found the very notes he was charged with stealing. They were
+found in the safe on the very day when they made the other discovery.
+Have they not told you?'
+
+'Checkley told Sir Samuel. He also remembers seeing Athelstan place the
+packet in the safe.'
+
+'Oh! Does he dare to say that? Why, Hilda, the robbery was proved to lie
+between himself and Athelstan. If he saw that, why did he not say so? He
+keeps silence for eight long years, and then he speaks.'
+
+Hilda shook her head sadly. 'I fear,' she said, 'that we cannot accept
+the innocence of our unfortunate brother. However, Athelstan was accused
+of forging Mr. Dering's handwriting and signature. In this new forgery,
+the same handwriting is found again--exactly the same. The forger is the
+same.'
+
+'Clearly, therefore, it cannot be Athelstan. That settles it.'
+
+'Yes--unfortunately--it does settle it. Because, you see, Athelstan is
+in London. He is said to have been living in London all the time--in
+some wretched place called Camberwell, inhabited, I suppose, by runaways
+and low company of every kind. He has lately been seen in the
+neighbourhood of Gray's Inn, apparently passing under his own name.
+Checkley has seen him. Another person has seen him.'
+
+'Have you come to tell me that Athelstan is charged with this new
+wickedness?'
+
+'The forger must have had an accomplice in the office; a man able
+to get at the safe: able to intercept the post: acquainted with Mr.
+Dering's ways: such a man as--say--Checkley--or--the only other
+possible--George.' Hilda paused.
+
+'Oh! This is too absurd. You are now hinting that George--my George,'
+she said proudly, 'was the confederate of Athelstan--no--of a forger.'
+
+'They have been seen together. They have been seen together at the house
+from which the forger addresses his letters. Has George told you that he
+has known all along--for eight years--of Athelstan's residence in
+London?'
+
+Observe how that simple remark made in the _Salutation_ Parlour, that
+Athelstan must have been living in Camberwell, had by this time grown
+into a complete record of eight years' hiding, eight years' disgraceful
+company on the part of one, and eight years' complicity and guilty
+knowledge on the part of the other. Hilda had not the least doubt. It
+was quite enough for her that Checkley said so. Half the contents of our
+newspapers are conducted on the same confiding principle.
+
+'If George has not told me,' Elsie replied, 'it must be for some good
+reason. Perhaps he was pledged to secrecy.'
+
+'My dear'--Hilda rose impressively with fateful face-'the hand that
+forged the letters is the hand that forged the cheque--your brother's
+hand. The hand that took the certificates from the safe'--she laid her
+own upon Elsie's hand--'the hand of the confederate, my poor sister,
+is--your lover's hand.'
+
+'I knew,' said the girl, 'that you were coming to this. I have felt it
+from the beginning.'
+
+'Remember, the thing was done in the months of February, March, and
+April. First of all, Athelstan was then, as now, desperately poor: the
+life that he has led for the last eight years--the life of
+a--a--Camberwell profligate'--she spoke as if that respectable suburb
+was the modern Alsatia-'has certainly destroyed whatever was left of
+honour and of principle. There comes a time, I have read, in the career
+of every wicked man when he hesitates no longer whatever means are
+offered him of making money. Athelstan it was--so they believe--who
+devised this scheme, which has been as successful as it is disgraceful.
+My dear Elsie, this is the most terrible disgrace that has ever befallen
+my family: the most dreadful and the most unexpected calamity for you.'
+
+Elsie caught her sister by the wrist. 'In the name of God, Hilda, are
+you telling me what is proved and true, or what is only suspected?'
+
+'I am telling you what is as good as proved. More than suspected.'
+
+'As good as proved. Oh!' Elsie drew a long breath. 'As good as proved.
+That is enough. Like Athelstan's guilt eight years ago,' she flared out
+suddenly, springing up again and walking about the room. 'Oh! it is
+wonderful!' she cried--'wonderful! What a family we are! We had a
+brother, and we believed that he was an honourable gentleman, as the son
+of his father must be. Then there was a charge, a foolish charge, based
+upon nothing but may--have--been and must--have--been---- We believed
+the charge----'
+
+'Because we had no choice but to believe, Elsie,' her sister
+interrupted. 'Do you think we wanted to believe the charge?'
+
+'We should have believed him innocent until the thing was proved. We did
+not. We cast him out from among us; and now, after eight years--he has
+come back poor, you say, and sunk so low that he is ashamed to see his
+people, and we are going to believe another charge based on may have
+been and must have been. No, Hilda. I will not believe it--I will
+not.--And then there is George. If I cease to believe in his honour and
+his truth, I cease to believe in everything. I cannot believe in Heaven
+itself unless I believe in my lover. Why, his heart is light about this
+business: he is not concerned: he laughs at that old man's ravings.
+Ravings? If Athelstan is right, then his is the hand that has done it
+all--his--Hilda--Checkley is the man concerned with both crimes.'
+
+Hilda shook her head. 'No, Elsie, no. The old man is above suspicion.'
+
+'Why should he be above suspicion more than George? And you ask me on
+the first breath of accusation to treat George as you treated Athelstan.
+Well--Hilda, I will not.'
+
+'I make every allowance for you, Elsie. It is a most dreadful
+business--a heart-breaking business. You may misrepresent me as much as
+you please-- I will continue to make allowances for you. Meantime, what
+will you do?'
+
+'Do? What should I do? Nothing, nothing, nothing. I shall go on as if
+this thing had never happened.'
+
+'Sir Samuel ordered me to warn you most seriously. If you consent to see
+him again----'
+
+'Consent? Consent? Why should I refuse? In a fortnight he will be my
+husband and my master, whom I must obey. He calls me his mistress now,
+but I am his servant. Consent to see him?' She sat down and burst into
+tears.
+
+'If you see him again,' her sister continued, 'warn him to leave the
+country. The thing is so certain that in a day or two the proofs will be
+complete, and it will then be too late. Make him leave the country. Be
+firm, Elsie. Better still, refuse to see him at all and leave him to his
+fate. What a fate! What madness!'
+
+'We allowed Athelstan to leave the country. He ought to have stayed. If
+I advise George at all I shall advise him to stick to his post and see
+the business through. If he were to leave the country, I would go with
+him.'
+
+'You are infatuated, Elsie. I can only hope that he may fly the country
+of his own accord. Meantime, there is one other point----'
+
+'What is it? Pray, don't spare me, Hilda. After what has gone before, it
+must be a very little point.'
+
+'You are bitter, Elsie, and I don't deserve your bitterness. But that is
+nothing. At such a moment everything must be pardoned and permitted. The
+point is about your wedding. It is fixed for the 12th of next month,
+less than three weeks from to-day. You must be prepared to put it off.'
+
+'Indeed! Because you say that a thing impossible is as good as proved!
+Certainly not, Hilda.'
+
+'I have come here to-day, Elsie, by Sir Samuel's express wish, in order
+to soften the blow and to warn you. Whether you will tell--that unhappy
+young man or not, is for you to decide. Perhaps, if you do, he may
+imitate our unworthy brother and run away. If he does not, the blow will
+fall to-morrow--to-day--the day after to-morrow--I know not when. He
+will be arrested: he will be taken before a magistrate: he will be
+remanded: he will be out on bail. Oh, Elsie, think of marrying a man out
+on bail! One might as well marry a man in convict dress. Oh! Horrible!'
+
+'I would rather marry George in convict dress than any other man in fine
+raiment. Because, once more, the thing is impossible.'
+
+'You carry your faith in your lover beyond bounds, Elsie. Of course a
+girl is right to believe in a man's honour. It makes her much more
+comfortable, and gives her a sense of security. Besides, we always like
+to believe that we are loved by the best of men. That makes us feel like
+the best of women.--But in this case, when I tell you that Sir Samuel--a
+man who has always lived among money--so to speak--and knows how money
+is constantly assailed--is firmly convinced of George's complicity, I do
+think that you might allow something for human frailty. In the case of
+Athelstan, what did Mr. Dering say? Everything is possible. So I say of
+George Austin, everything is possible.'
+
+'Not everything. Not that.'
+
+'Yes, even that.--What do you know of his private life? Why has he
+concealed the fact of Athelstan's residence in London? Why has he never
+told us of his friendship with that unfortunate outcast?'
+
+'I don't know. He has his reasons.'
+
+'It is a most dreadful thing for you,' Hilda went on. 'And after getting
+to believe in the man and--well--becoming attached to him--though such
+attachments mean little and are soon forgotten--and after going the
+length of fixing the day and ordering the dress and the wedding-cake,
+and putting up the banns---- Oh! it is a wretched business--a horrible
+misfortune. The only thing to be said is that in such a case, the fact
+being known to everybody, no one can blame a girl; and perhaps, in the
+long run, she will suffer no injury from it. Our circle, for instance,
+is so different from that of this young man's friends, that the thing
+would not even be known among us.'
+
+'I believe, Hilda, you will drive me mad.'
+
+'My dear, one must look ahead. And remember that I look ahead for you.
+As for the young man, I dissociate him henceforth from you. What he does
+and where he goes I do not inquire or care about, any more than I
+trouble myself about a disgraceful brother. Some acts cut a man off from
+his mistress--from his sisters--from the world.'
+
+'Do not talk any more,' said Elsie. 'Let the blow, as you call it, fall
+when it pleases. But as for me, I shall not warn George that he is to be
+charged with dishonesty, any more than I will believe him capable of
+dishonesty.'
+
+'Well, my dear, there is one comfort for us. You may resolve on marrying
+him. But a man charged with a crime--out on bail--cannot marry any girl.
+And he will be charged, and the evidence is very strong.'
+
+'No doubt. As good as proved--as good as proved. Poor George! Who never
+had ten pounds in the world until he was made a partner----'
+
+'True. And there we have the real motive. Seek the motive, Sir Samuel
+says, and we shall find the criminal. Here you have the reason of the
+secret partnership with Athelstan. Poverty is the tempter--Athelstan is
+the suggested.'
+
+Elsie shook her head impatiently.
+
+'Mr. Dering was to give you away. Who will now? Athelstan? How can
+we--Sir Samuel and I--assist at a wedding where the bridegroom lies
+under such a charge?--by one so near to us as Mr. Dering? How can your
+mother be present? Oh, Elsie, think!'
+
+Elsie shook her head again, with greater impatience.
+
+'Think what a fate you may be dragging upon yourself! Think of possible
+children with such a brand upon them!'
+
+'I think only of an honourable and an innocent man.'
+
+'I have just come from my mother, Elsie. She says positively that if the
+charge is brought, the wedding must be put off until the man is cleared.
+And for the moment she does not feel strong enough to meet him. You can
+receive him here if you please. And she desires that there may be no
+disputes or arguments about it.'
+
+'It is truly wonderful!' Elsie walked to the open window and gasped as
+if choking. 'Wonderful!' she repeated. 'The same fate--in the same
+manner--threatens George that fell upon Athelstan. And it finds us as
+ready to believe in the charge and to cast him out. Now, Hilda, go to my
+mother and tell her that though the whole world should call George--my
+George--a villain, I will marry him. Tell her that though I should have
+to take him from the prison door, I will marry him. Because, you see,
+all things are not possible. This thing is impossible.'
+
+'We shall have trouble with Elsie,' Lady Dering told her mother. 'Call
+her soft and yielding? My dear, no mule was ever more stubborn. She will
+marry her convict, she says, even at the prison door.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+WAS HE IN RAGS?
+
+
+Stubborn as a mule. Yes--it is the way with some girls: man is soft as
+wax compared with woman: man concedes, compromises, gives way, submits:
+woman has her own way--when that way is the right way she becomes a
+pearl above price.
+
+Elsie, when the door was shut and her sister gone, stood silent,
+immovable. A red spot burned in her cheeks: her eyes were unnaturally
+bright: her lips parted: she was possessed by a mighty wrath and great
+determination: she was the tigress who fights for her beloved. Meantime,
+everything was changed: the sunshine had gone out of the day: the warmth
+out of the air: her work, that had pleased her so much an hour ago,
+seemed a poor weak thing not worth thinking about. Everything was a
+trifle not worth thinking about--the details of her wedding: her
+presents: her honeymoon: her pretty flat--all became insignificant
+compared with this threatened charge against her lover. How was it to be
+met? If it was only a suspicion put into shape by Sir Samuel and old
+Checkley it would be best to say nothing. If it was really going to be
+brought against him, would it not be best to warn him beforehand? And
+about her brother----
+
+She sat down and wrote out the facts. To be doing this cleared her
+brain, and seemed like working for her lover. In March 1882 a cheque for
+720_l_. to the order of one Edmund Gray was cashed in ten-pound notes by
+a commissionaire sent from an hotel in Arundel Street, Strand. No one
+ever found out this Edmund Gray. Athelstan was suspected. The notes
+themselves were never presented, and were found the other day in Mr.
+Dering's safe, covered with dust, at the back of some books.
+
+In February, March, and April, by means of forged letters, a great
+quantity of shares were transferred from the name of Edward Dering to
+that of Edmund Gray. The writing of the letters was the same as that of
+the forged cheque.
+
+These were the only facts. The rest was all inference and presumption.
+Athelstan had been seen in London: Athelstan had been living all the
+time in London: Athelstan had been seen going into the house which was
+given as the residence of Edmund Gray. Well--Athelstan must be seen the
+very first thing. Further than this point she could not get. She rang
+the bell, ordered tea to be brought to her own room, and then put on her
+hat and went out to the Gardens, where she walked about under the trees,
+disquieted and unhappy. If a charge is going to be brought against him,
+the most innocent man in the world must be disquieted until he knows the
+nature of the evidence against him. Once satisfied as to that, he may be
+happy again. What evidence could they bring against George?
+
+She went home about eight, going without dinner rather than sit down
+with her mother. It is a miserable thing for a girl to be full of
+hardness against her mother. Elsie already had experience, as you have
+seen. For the present better not to meet at all. Therefore she did not
+go home for dinner, but took a bun and a cup of coffee--woman's
+substitute for dinner--at a confectioner's.
+
+When George called about nine o'clock, he was taken into the studio,
+where he found Elsie with the traces of tears in her eyes.
+
+'Why, Elsie,' he cried, 'what is the matter? Why are you crying, my
+dear? and why are you alone in this room?'
+
+'I choke in this house, George. Take me out of it--take me away. Let us
+walk about the Squares and talk. I have a good deal to say.'
+
+'Now, dear, what is it?'--when they were outside. 'What happened? You
+are trembling--you have been shaken. Tell me, dear.'
+
+'I don't think I can tell you just at present--not all.'
+
+'Something then--the rest afterwards. Tell me by instalments.'
+
+'You are quite happy, George? Nobody has said anything to make you
+angry, at the office, or anywhere else?'
+
+'Nobody. We are going on just the same. Mr. Dering thinks and talks
+about nothing but the robbery. So do I. So does everybody else. I
+suppose Checkley has told, for every clerk in the place knows about it,
+and is talking about it. Why do you ask if anybody has made me angry?'
+
+'My dear George, Hilda has been here this afternoon. You know
+that--sometimes--Hilda does not always say the kindest things about
+people.'
+
+'Not always. I remember when she wrote me a letter asking whether I
+thought that a lawyer's clerk was a fit aspirant for the hand of her
+sister. Not always just the kindest things. But I thought we were all on
+the most affectionate terms, and that everything had been sponged out.
+Has she been saying more kind, sisterly, things about me? What have I
+done now? Isn't the money difficulty solved?'
+
+'I will tell you some other time--not now--what she said. At the present
+moment I want to ask you a question. If you have reasons for not
+answering, say so, and I shall be quite satisfied; but answer me if you
+can. This is the question. Hilda says that Athelstan is secretly in
+London, and that you know it, and that you have been seen with him. Is
+that true?'
+
+'Well--Elsie--the only reason for not telling you that Athelstan is here
+is that he himself made me promise not to tell you. Athelstan is in
+London. I see him often. I shall see him this evening after leaving you.
+He is in London, walking about openly. Why not? I know no reason for any
+concealment. But he cannot go to see his mother, or enter his mother's
+house, until this charge against him has been acknowledged to be
+baseless. As for you, he will be the first person to visit you--and will
+be your most frequent visitor--when we are married. He is always talking
+about you. He is longing for the time when he can see you openly. But
+nothing will persuade him to come here. He is still bitter against his
+mother and against Hilda.'
+
+Elsie sighed. 'It is very terrible--and now---- But go on.'
+
+'I have answered your question, Elsie.'
+
+'Oh, no. I have only just begun. You say that Athelstan is in London;
+but you do not tell me what he is doing and how he fares.'
+
+'He fares very well, and he is prosperous.'
+
+'Hilda says that he has been living in some wretched quarter of London
+all these years; that he has been frequenting low company; and that he
+has been, until the last few weeks, in rags and penniless.'
+
+George laughed aloud. 'Where on earth did Hilda get this precious
+information? Athelstan in a low quarter? Athelstan a Prodigal? Athelstan
+in rags? My dearest Elsie, if Lady Dering were not your sister, I should
+say that she had gone mad with venomous hatred of the brother whom she
+made so much haste to believe guilty.'
+
+'Oh! Tell me quick, George. Don't say anything against Hilda, please. I
+am already---- Tell me quick the whole truth.'
+
+'Well, dear, the whole truth is this. Athelstan is doing very well. I
+suppose you might call him prosperous. When he went away, he had ten
+pounds to begin with. People kindly credited him with the nice little
+sum of 720_l_. obtained by a forgery. We now know that this money has
+been lying in the safe all the time--how it got there, the Lord
+knows--perhaps Checkley could tell. He went to America by the cheapest
+way possible. He had many adventures and many ups and downs, all of
+which he will tell you before long. Once he had great good fortune on a
+silver mine or something: he made thousands of pounds over it. Then he
+lost all his money--dropped it down a sink or into an open drain--you
+know, in America, these traps are plentiful, and started again on his
+ten pounds. He was a journalist all the time, and he is a journalist
+still. He is now over here as the London correspondent of a great paper
+of San Francisco.--That, my dear Elsie, is, briefly, the record of your
+brother since he went away.'
+
+'Oh! But are you quite sure, George?--quite--quite sure? Because, if
+this can be proved----'
+
+'Nothing is more easy to prove. He brought letters to a London Bank
+introducing him as the correspondent, and empowering him to draw certain
+moneys.'
+
+'How long has Athelstan been at home?' She remembered the dates of the
+recent forgeries, and the alleged fact that all were in the same
+handwriting.
+
+'You are so persistent, Elsie, that I am certain you have got something
+serious on your mind--won't you tell me?'
+
+'No, George--not to-night. But--how long has Athelstan been in England?'
+
+'I will tell you exactly how and when I met him. Do you remember three
+weeks ago, that Sunday evening when we were so happy and so
+miserable--resolved on braving everything--going to live on love and a
+crust for the rest of our lives?--you poor, dear, brave girl!' He
+touched her fingers. 'I shall always be thankful for that prospect of
+poverty, because it revealed my mistress to me in all her loveliness of
+love and trust and courage.'
+
+'Oh, George--you spoil me. But then I know myself better.'
+
+'Well--on that evening we went to Church together; and after Church, as
+I was not allowed in the house, we walked round and round the Square
+until the rain came on, and we had to go home. Well, you did not take
+any notice; but as you stood on the steps waiting for the door to be
+opened, a man was standing on the kerb under the lamp close by. When the
+door was shut behind you, I turned and walked away. This man followed me
+and clapped me on the shoulder. It was Athelstan.'
+
+'And I saw him and did not know him!'
+
+'He has grown a big beard now, and wore a felt hat. He is a picturesque
+object to look at. Ought to have been one of Drake's men. I daresay he
+was in a former existence. He had then been in England exactly a week,
+and every day he had prowled about the place in the hope of seeing
+you--not speaking to you--he trusted that you would not know him again.'
+
+'Oh, poor Athelstan! That is nearly three weeks ago. He has been in
+England four weeks--a month--and three--four--five months ago--where was
+he?'
+
+'I told you. In California.'
+
+'Oh! then he could not--possibly--not possibly--and it can be
+proved--and oh! George--George--I am so glad--I am so glad.' She showed
+her joy by a light shower of tears.
+
+'Why, my dear,' he said, soothing her, 'why are you so troubled and yet
+so glad?'
+
+'You don't quite understand, George. You don't know the things that are
+said. All these forgeries are in the same handwriting.'
+
+'Certainly.'
+
+'One man has written all these letters and cheques and things--both that
+of eight years ago and those of last March?'
+
+'That is perfectly certain.'
+
+'Then, don't you see? Athelstan was out of England when these
+newly-discovered forgeries were done. Therefore, he had no hand in them.
+Therefore, again, he could have had no hand in the earlier one. Why--you
+establish his innocence perfectly. Now you see one of the reasons why I
+was so glad.'
+
+The other reason--that this fact destroyed at one blow the whole of the
+splendid edifice constructed upon the alleged stay of Athelstan in
+London--Elsie concealed. Her heart, it must be acknowledged, was
+lightened. You may have the most complete belief in the innocence of a
+person, but it is well to have the belief strengthened by facts.
+
+'As for me,' said George, 'I have been so long accustomed to regard him
+as one of the worst used of men, that I never thought of that
+conclusion. Of course, if the handwriting is the same, and it certainly
+seems the same--a very good imitation of Mr. Dering's hand--there is
+nothing now to be said. Athelstan was in California in the spring. That
+settles it. And the notes were in the safe. Two clinchers. But to some
+minds a suspicion is a charge, and a charge is a fact.'
+
+'George, you must take me to Athelstan. Give me his address.'
+
+'He is in lodgings in Half Moon Street. I will ask him if he will meet
+you.'
+
+'No--no; let me go to him. It is more fitting. You will see him
+presently. Will you tell him that I will call upon him to-morrow morning
+at eleven? And tell him, George, that something has happened--something
+that makes it impossible for me to remain at home--even for the short
+time before our wedding.'
+
+'Elsie! this is very serious.'
+
+'Yes, it is very serious. Tell him that I shall ask him to receive me
+until the wedding, or until certain things have happened.--But in any
+case--oh! they must happen so--they must--it is too absurd.'
+
+'Elsie, my dear, you grow interjectional.'
+
+'Yes--yes. I mean, George, that if things turn out as I hope they may, I
+will go home again. If not, we will be married from Athelstan's
+lodgings.'
+
+'And you will not tell me what this terrible business is?'
+
+'Not to-night, George,' she repeated. 'It is very serious, and it makes
+me very unhappy that my mother and sister----'
+
+'It is something to do with me, Elsie, clearly. Never mind. You will
+tell me when you please. Whatever you do is sure to be right. I will see
+him this evening.'
+
+'Thank you, George. I think that what I propose is the wisest thing to
+do. Besides, I want to be with you and Athelstan. Tell him that as he
+left the house eight years ago I leave it now.'
+
+'You? Why, my dear child, what forgeries have you been committing?'
+
+'None. And yet---- Well, George, that is enough about me and my
+troubles. Tell me now about your search into this business. How have you
+got on?'
+
+'There is nothing new to report. I told you that I left a note on Edmund
+Gray's table. No answer has come to that. The Bank has written to tell
+him that his letter of introduction was a forgery. No answer. The
+dividends are accumulating: he draws no cheques: he makes no sign. In a
+word, though this money is lying to his credit, and the shares are
+transferred to his name, and the letters give his address, there is
+nothing whatever to convict the man himself. We could not prove his
+signature, and he has taken none of the money. He might call any day and
+say that he knew nothing about it. I wonder he hasn't done it. When he
+does, we shall just have to put everything straight again. As for poor
+old Checkley, I really believe that he is going mad. If I meet him he
+glares; if he is in his master's room, his eyes follow me about under
+his shaggy eyebrows with a malignity which I have never seen painted. As
+for being described, words couldn't do it. I suppose he sees that the
+end is inevitable. Really, Elsie, the man would murder me if he dared.'
+
+'The man is dangerous, George, as well as malignant. But I think he will
+do you no harm in the long run. Have you told Athelstan what is going
+on?'
+
+'Certainly. He follows the business with the greatest interest. He
+agrees with me that the thing is done out of the office with the help of
+some one in it. Now, the point is, that the man in the office must have
+the control of the post. All the letters must pass through his hands.
+'Who is that man? No one but Checkley. Everything turns on that. Now,
+here is a lucky accident. An old friend of Athelstan's, a man who
+coaches, has Chambers on the same stairs and on the same floor. He knows
+this Mr. Edmund Gray. We have been to his rooms to question him.'
+
+'Is it to see this old friend that Athelstan visits No. 22?'
+
+'Yes. His name is Carstone--commonly called Freddy Carstone--a pleasing
+man, with a little weakness, which seems to endear him to his friends.'
+
+'This is the way in which things get distorted in a malignant mind!
+Well. What did this gentleman tell you about this mysterious Edmund
+Gray?'
+
+'Nothing definite. That he is some kind of Socialist we knew before:
+that he has occupied the Chambers for ten years or so we knew before.
+Also, that he is an elderly gentleman of benevolent aspect. And that he
+is irregular in his visits to his Chambers. We seem to get no further.
+We see Checkley coming out of the house. That connects him, to be sure.
+But that is not much. There is no connection established between Edmund
+Gray and the forgeries in his name. Nor between Checkley and the
+forgeries. One feels that if one could lay hold of this mysterious
+elderly gentleman, a real step in advance would be taken.'
+
+'You talked at first of arresting him on the charge.'
+
+'Well--there is no evidence. His name has been used--that is all. On
+that evidence no magistrate would issue a warrant. Sometimes one's head
+goes round with the bewilderment of it. I've managed to learn something
+about Checkley in the course of these inquiries. He is quite a great
+man, Elsie; a tavern oracle in the evening; a landlord and householder
+and collector of his own rents at odd hours; a capitalist and a miser.
+But he is not, as thought at first--Edmund Gray.'
+
+They had by this time got round to the house again. 'Go, now, George,'
+said Elsie. 'See Athelstan this evening. Tell him that I must go to him.
+I will tell him why to-morrow.'
+
+'If he is not at his club I will go to his lodgings. If he is not there
+I will wait till he comes home. And before I go home I will drop a note
+for you.--Good-night, sweetheart--good-night.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE PRODIGAL AT HOME
+
+
+In the morning, Elsie rose at seven and put together such things as she
+should want for the three weeks before her marriage, if she was to spend
+that interval under her brother's care. At eight o'clock she received
+her letters--including one in a handwriting she did not know. She opened
+it.
+
+     'Dear Elsie,' it said, 'come to me at once. Come early. Come
+     to breakfast at nine. I will wait for you till ten, or any
+     time.
+
+  'Your affectionate Brother,
+  'ATHELSTAN.'
+
+'Oh!' she murmured. 'And I did not know his writing. And to think that I
+am twenty-one, and he is thirty-one; and that I have never had a letter
+from him before!'
+
+Her boxes were packed. She put on her jacket and hat and descended into
+the breakfast-room, where her mother was already opening her letters and
+waiting breakfast.
+
+'You are going out, Elsie?' she asked coldly.
+
+'Yes. Hilda told you, I suppose, what she came here for yesterday. In
+fact, you sent me a message.'
+
+'I hope she delivered it correctly.'
+
+'She said that you would not sanction my wedding while this charge, or
+suspicion, was hanging over George's head. And that you would not see
+him until it was withdrawn or cleared away.'
+
+'Certainly. In such a case it would be worse than hypocrisy to receive
+him with friendliness.'
+
+'Then, like Hilda, you accept the conclusion.'
+
+'I am unable to do anything else. The conclusion seems to me
+inevitable. If not, let him explain. I hope that no time will be lost in
+bringing the formal charge. It is foolish kindness--real cruelty--to all
+concerned to keep such a thing hanging over our heads. I say _our_
+heads, not yours only, Elsie, because you know your brother is
+implicated--perhaps the real contriver--of the dreadful scheme.'
+
+'Would you believe me if I were to tell you that Athelstan _could_ not
+be implicated?'
+
+'My dear--believe you? Of course, I would believe if I could.
+Unfortunately, the evidence is too strong.'
+
+Elsie sighed. 'Very well; I will say nothing more. You have driven out
+my lover, as you drove out my brother for the self-same cause, and on
+the self-same charge. I follow my lover and my brother.'
+
+'Elsie!'--her mother started. 'Do not, I pray you, do anything rash.
+Remember--a scandal--a whisper even--may be fatal to you hereafter. Sit
+down and wait. All I ask you to do is to wait.'
+
+'No; I will not wait. If those two are under any cloud of suspicion, I
+too will sit under the cloud and wait until it lifts. I am going to stay
+with my brother until my wedding. That is to be on the 12th.'
+
+'No--no--my poor child. There will be no wedding on the 12th.'
+
+'Before that time, everything will be cleared up, and I shall be
+married from this house, so that I have left all my things, my
+presents--everything.'
+
+Her mother shook her head.
+
+'Try not to think so cruelly of George and of Athelstan, mother. You
+will be sorry afterwards. Try to believe that though a case may look
+strange, there may be a way out.'
+
+'I have told you'--her mother was perfectly cold and unmoved--'that I
+have come to this conclusion on the evidence. If the young man can
+explain things, let him do so. There will be no wedding on the 12th,
+Elsie. You can come home as soon as you are convinced that your brother
+is an improper person for a young lady to live with, and as soon as you
+have learned the truth about the other young man. That is to say, I will
+receive you under these distressing circumstances, provided there has
+been no scandal connected with your name.'
+
+Elsie turned and left the room. The Fifth Commandment enjoins that under
+such circumstances as these the least said the soonest mended.
+
+When a man learns that his sister, his favourite sister, from whom he
+has been parted for eight years, the only member of his family who stood
+up for him when he was falsely accused of a disgraceful thing, is about
+to take breakfast with him, he naturally puts as much poetry into that
+usually simple meal as circumstances allow. Mostly Athelstan took a cup
+of coffee and a London egg. This morning he had flowers, raspberries
+lying in a bed of leaves, a few late strawberries, various kinds of
+confitures in dainty dishes, toast and cake, with fish and
+cutlets--quite a little feast. And he had had the room cleared of the
+bundles of newspapers; the pipes and cigar-cases and all the
+circumstances of tobacco were hidden away--all but the smell, which
+lingered. One thinks a good deal about a sister's visit, under such
+conditions. At a quarter past nine Elsie arrived. Athelstan hastened to
+open the door, and to receive her with open arms and kisses strange and
+sweet. Then, while the people of the house took in her luggage, he led
+his sister into the room, which was the front room on the ground-floor.
+
+'Elsie!' he said, taking both her hands in his, 'eight years since we
+parted--and you are a tall young lady whom I left a little girl. To hold
+your hand--to kiss you, seems strange after so long.' He kissed her
+again on the forehead. She looked up at the tall handsome man with a
+kind of terror. It was almost like casting herself upon the care of a
+strange man.
+
+'I remember your voice, Athelstan, but not your face. You have changed
+more than I, even.'
+
+'And I remember your voice, Elsie--always a soft and winning voice,
+wasn't it?--to suit soft and winning ways. There never was any child
+more winning and affectionate than you--never.'
+
+'Oh! you are grown very handsome, Athelstan. See what a splendid beard,
+and the brown velvet jacket, and white waistcoat--and the crimson tie.
+You look like an artist. I wish all men wore colours, as they used to
+do. I only heard yesterday that you were in London. Hilda told me.'
+
+'Was that the reason why you cannot stay at home?'
+
+'Part of the reason. But you shall have breakfast first. You can take me
+in without any trouble?'
+
+'My dear child, I am more than delighted to have you here. There is a
+room at the back where you will be quiet: we have only this one room for
+sitting-room, and I think we shall find it best to go out every day to
+dinner. That will not hurt us, and George will come every evening.--Now,
+Elsie, you sit here, and I will---- No-- I quite forgot. You will pour
+out the tea. Yes--I see. I thought I was going to wait upon you
+altogether.--There--now you will make a good breakfast, and--and----
+Don't cry, dear child.'
+
+'No--Athelstan.' She brushed away the tears. 'It is nothing. I shall be
+very happy with you. But why are you not at home? And why am I here? Oh!
+it is too cruel--too perverse of them!'
+
+'We had better have it out before breakfast, then.--Strawberries don't
+go well with tears, do they? Nor jam with complainings. Come, Elsie, why
+need you leave home?'
+
+'Because, in two words, they are treating George as they treated you. I
+was younger then, or I would have gone away with you.'
+
+'Treating George? Oh! I understand. They are pouring suspicion upon him.
+Well, I saw that this was coming. Old Checkley, I swear, is at the
+bottom of this.'
+
+'Yes--Checkley went to Sir Samuel with the "Case," as he called it,
+complete. He has proved to their joint satisfaction that nobody could
+have done the thing except George, assisted by you.'
+
+'Oh! assisted by me.'
+
+'Yes--while you were in California, I suppose. There is to be a warrant
+for your arrest--yours and George's--in a few days, they say. Hilda
+brought the news to my mother. They both believe it, and they want me to
+break off my engagement. My mother refuses to see George so long as this
+charge, as she calls it, remains over him. So I came away.'
+
+'You did wisely. Well--any one may call up a cloud of suspicion, and it
+is sometimes difficult to disperse such a cloud. Therefore, we must do
+everything we can to find out who is the real criminal.--Now, let us
+rest quite easy. There can be no arrest--or any charge--or anything but
+a fuss created by this old villain. It is only troublesome to find one's
+own people so ready to believe.'
+
+'Why did you not tell me that you were home again?'
+
+'Pour out the coffee, Elsie, and begin your breakfast. I wanted to
+reserve the Return of the Prodigal until you came home after your
+honeymoon. Then I meant to call mysteriously about sunset, before George
+was home. I thought I would have a long cloak wrapped about me. I should
+have begun: "Madam: you had once a brother."--"I had"--that is you.--"On
+his deathbed."--"My brother dead?"--that's you.--"With this
+packet."--Oh! we have lost a most beautiful little play. How can I
+forgive you?'
+
+Then they went on with breakfast, talking and laughing until, before the
+meal was finished, they had lost their shyness and were brother and
+sister again.
+
+After breakfast, Athelstan took a cigarette and an easy-chair. 'Now I am
+going to devote the whole day to you. I have nothing to do for my paper
+which cannot wait till to-morrow. All this morning we will talk--that
+is, until we are tired. We will have lunch somewhere, and go to see the
+pictures; George will come at about seven: we will have dinner, and go
+to some exhibition, somewhere. Then we will get home, and have another
+talk. To-morrow, I shall have to leave you to your own devices between
+ten and six or so. I am very busy some days: on others, I can find time
+for anything.--Now that's all cleared up. I am to be your banker and
+everything.'
+
+'Not my banker, Athelstan. Oh! you don't know. I am a great heiress.'
+
+'Indeed? How is that?' he asked, a little twinkle in his eye.
+
+'Mr. Dering told me when I was twenty-one, three weeks ago. Somebody has
+given me an immense sum of money--thirteen thousand pounds.'
+
+'That is a very handsome sum. Who gave it to you?'
+
+'That is a secret. Mr. Dering refuses to tell me. I wish I knew.'
+
+'I wouldn't wish if I were you. Gratitude is at all times a burden and a
+worry. Besides, he might be a vulgar person without aspirates or
+aspirations. Much better not inquire after him. Thirteen thousand pounds
+at three and a half per cent. means four hundred and fifty pounds a
+year. A nice little addition to your income. I congratulate you, Elsie;
+and this evening we will drink the health of the unassuming benefactor;
+the retiring and nameless recogniser of maidenly worth. Bless him!'
+
+'And now, Athelstan, begin your adventures. Tell me everything: from the
+day you left us till now. You cannot tell me too much or talk too long.
+Before you begin, ask any questions about my mother and Hilda that you
+want to ask. Then we can go on undisturbed.'
+
+'I have no questions to ask about either. I have already ascertained
+from George that both are in good health, and that Hilda has married a
+man with an immense fortune. That is happiness enough for her, I
+hope.--Now, Elsie, I shall be tedious, I am afraid; but you shall hear
+everything.'
+
+He began. It was such a narrative as thousands of young Englishmen have
+been able to tell during the last five-and-twenty years. The story of
+the young man with a few pounds in his pocket, no friends, no
+recommendations, and no trade. Athelstan landed at New York in this
+condition. He looked about for employment and found none. He hastened
+out of the crowded city: he went West, and got work in the business open
+to every sharp and clever man--that of journalism. He worked for one
+paper after another, getting gradually more and more West, until he
+found himself in San Francisco, where he was taken on by a great paper,
+which had now sent him over here as its London correspondent. That was
+all the story; but there were so many episodes in it, so many
+adventures, so many men whom he remembered, so many anecdotes cropping
+up, in this eight years' history of a man with an eye, a brain, and a
+memory, that it was long past luncheon-time when Athelstan stopped and
+said that he must carry on the next chapter at another time.
+
+'That pile of dollars that you made over the silver mine,
+Athelstan--what became of them?'
+
+'What became of them? Well, you see, Elsie, in some parts of the United
+States money vanishes as fast as it is made. All these dollars dropped
+into a deep hole of the earth, and were hopelessly lost.'
+
+She laughed. 'You will tell me some day--when you please--how you lost
+that fortune. Oh! what a thing it is to be a man and to have all these
+adventures!--Now, Athelstan, consider--if it had not been for your bad
+fortune, you would never have had all this good fortune.'
+
+'True. Yet the bad fortune came in such an ugly shape. There has been a
+black side to my history. How was I to tell people why I left my own
+country? I could make no friends. At the first appearance of friendship,
+I had to become cold, lest they should ask me where I came from and why
+I left home.'
+
+Elsie was silent.
+
+They carried out part of their programme. They went to see the
+pictures--it was eight years since Athelstan had seen a picture--and
+after the pictures they walked in the Park. Then they went home and
+waited for George, who presently appeared. Then they went to one of the
+Regent Street restaurants and made a little feast. After this, Elsie
+asked them to come home and spend a quiet evening talking about things.
+
+By common consent they avoided one topic. Edmund Gray was not so much as
+mentioned, nor was the malignity of Checkley alluded to. They talked of
+old days, when Athelstan was a big boy and George a little boy and Elsie
+a child. They talked of the long engagement, and the hopeless time, when
+it seemed as if they were going to marry on two hundred pounds a year:
+and of that day of miracle and marvel when Mr. Dering gave to one of
+them a fortune, and to the other a partnership. They talked of their
+honeymoon and the tour they were going to make, and the beautiful places
+they would see. Tours and Blois, Chenonceaux and Amboise; Angoulême and
+Poitiers and La Rochelle; and of their return, and the lovely flat,
+where the friends would be made so welcome. Athelstan was a person of
+some sympathy. Elsie talked as freely to him as she could to George.
+They talked till midnight.
+
+Then Elsie got up. 'Whatever happens, Athelstan,' she said,
+'mind--whatever happens, you shall give me away on the 12th.'
+
+'Now she has left us,' said George, 'you may tell me why she refused to
+stay at home.'
+
+'Well--I suppose you ought to know. Much for the same reason that I
+refused to stay at home. They then chose to jump at the conclusion that
+at one step I had become, from a man of honour, a stupid and clumsy
+forger. They now choose--I am ashamed to say--my mother and sister
+choose--to believe that you and I together have devised and invented
+this elaborate scheme of forgery. With this end in view, it has been
+found necessary to contrive certain little fabrications--as that I have
+been living in London on my wits--that is to say, by the exercise of
+cheatery--for the last eight years; and that, being in rags and
+penniless, I persuaded you to join me in this neat little buccaneering
+job.'
+
+'Oh! it is too absurd! But I suspected something. Well--it is perfectly
+easy to put a stop to that.'
+
+'Yes, it is easy. At the same time, it will be well to put a stop to it
+as soon as possible, before the thing assumes serious proportions, and
+becomes a horrid thing, that may stick to you all your life. You have
+got to do with a malignant man--perhaps a desperate man. He will spread
+abroad the suspicion as diligently as he can. Let us work, therefore.'
+
+'Well--but what can we do, that we have not done? How can we fix the
+thing upon Checkley?'
+
+'I don't know. We must think--we must find out something, somehow. Let
+us all three work together. Elsie will make the best detective in the
+world. And let us work in secret. I am very glad--very glad indeed--that
+Elsie came.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE WHISPER OF CALUMNY
+
+
+Whispered words are ever more potent than words proclaimed aloud upon
+the house-top. If the envious man from the house-top denounces a man of
+reputation as a thief, a gambler, a patricide, a sororicide, amicocide,
+no man regardeth his voice, though he call out with the voice of
+Stentor: people only stare: these are the words of a madman or a
+malignant. But whisper these charges in the ear of your neighbour:
+whisper them with bated breath: say that, as yet, the thing is a
+profound secret. Then that rumour swiftly flies abroad, until every
+burgess in the town regards that man askance; and when the time for
+voting comes, he votes for another man, and will not have him as beadle,
+sexton, verger, schoolmaster, turncock, policeman, parish doctor,
+workhouse chaplain, common-councilman, alderman, Mayor, or Member of
+Parliament. And all for a whisper.
+
+It was Checkley who set going the whisper, which at this moment was
+running up and down the office, agitating all hearts, occupying all
+minds, the basis of all conversation.
+
+King Midas's servant, when he was irresistibly impelled to whisper, dug
+a hole in the ground and placed his whisper at the bottom of that hole.
+But the grasses grew up and sighed the words to the passing breeze, so
+that the market women heard them on their way: 'The King's ears are the
+ears of an Ass--the ears of an Ass--the ears of an Ass.' The old and
+trusty servant of Dering and Son buried his secret in the leaves of his
+Copying-book. Here it was found by the boy who worked the Copying-press.
+As he turned over the pages, he became conscious of a sibilant,
+malignant, revengeful murmur: 'Who stole the bonds? The new
+Partner.--Who forged the letters? The new Partner.--Who robbed the safe?
+The new Partner.' Here was a pretty thing for a pretty innocent office
+boy to hear! Naturally, his very soul became aflame: when the dinner
+hour arrived, he told another boy as a profound secret what he had
+heard. That boy told an older boy, who told another still older, who
+told another, and so up the long official ladder, until everybody in the
+place knew that the new Partner--actually the new Partner--the most
+fortunate of all young men that ever passed his Exam.--who had stepped
+at a bound from two hundred to a thousand, at least--this young man, of
+all young men in the world, had forged his partner's name, robbed his
+partner's safe, made away with his partner's property. Who after this
+can trust anybody?
+
+But others there were who refused to believe this thing. They pointed
+out that the new Partner continued--apparently--on the best of terms
+with the old Partner: they argued that when such things are done,
+friendships are killed and partnerships are dissolved. They even went so
+far, though members of the great profession which believes in no man's
+goodness, as to declare their belief that the new Partner could not
+possibly by any temptation do such things. And there were others who
+pointed to the fact that the whisper came from the boy of the
+Copying-press: that he heard it whispered by the fluttering leaves: and
+that it was imparted to those leaves by Checkley--old Checkley--whose
+hatred towards the new Partner was notorious to all men: not on account
+of any personal qualities or private injuries, but out of the jealousy
+which made him regard the Chief as his own property: and because he had
+been deprived of his power in the office--the power of appointment and
+disappointment and the raising of screw, which he had previously
+possessed. Checkley was dethroned. Therefore, Checkley spread this
+rumour. Others, again, said that if the rumour was really started by
+Checkley, which could not be proved, seeing that, like all whispers or
+rumours, the origin was unknown, and perhaps supernatural, then Checkley
+must have very strong grounds for starting such a thing.
+
+Thus divided in opinion, the office looked on, expectant. Expectancy is
+a thing which gets into the air: it fills every room with whispers: it
+makes a conspirator or a partisan or a confederate of every one: it
+divides a peaceful office into camps: it is the cause of inventions,
+lies, and exaggerations. There were two parties in this office--one
+which whispered accusations, and the other which whispered denials.
+Between these hovered the wobblers or mugwumps, who whispered that while
+on the one hand--on the other hand--and that while they readily
+admitted--so they were free to confess----Everybody knows the wobbler.
+He is really, if he knew it, the master of the situation; but, because
+he is a wobbler, he cannot use his strength. When he is called upon to
+act, he falls into two pieces, each of which begins to wobble and to
+fall into other two pieces of its own accord. The whole process of a
+Presidential Election--except the final voting--was going on in that
+office of half-a-dozen rooms, but in whispers, without a single
+procession, and not one German band. And all unconscious of the tumult
+that raged about him--a tumult in whispers--a civil war in silence--the
+object of this was going on his way unconscious and undisturbed.
+
+Now, however, having learned that the old clerk was actually seeking to
+fix this charge upon him, George perceived the whispering and understood
+the charge. When he passed through the first or outer office in the
+morning, he perceived that the clerks all looked at him curiously, and
+that they pretended not to be looking at him, and plied their pens with
+zeal. On the stairs he met an articled clerk, who blushed a rosy red
+with consciousness of the thing: on his way to his own room through his
+own clerks' room, he felt them looking after him curiously as he passed;
+and he felt them, when his own door was closed, whispering about him.
+This made him extremely angry. Yet, for a whisper, one cannot suffer
+wrath to become visible. That would only please the whisperers. There
+is only one thing worse than to be suspected rightly; it is to be
+suspected wrongly; for the latter makes a man mad. What? That he--even
+he--the man of principle and rule, should be suspected! Does nothing,
+then--no amount of character, no blamelessness of record, avail? Is the
+world coming to an end?
+
+George then shut his door and sat down to his table in a very wrathful
+and savage frame of mind. And while he was just beginning to nurse and
+nourish this wrath, coaxing it from a red glow to a roaring flame, a
+card was brought to him.
+
+'I will see Sir Samuel at once,' he said.
+
+It is as well that we do not hear the remarks of the clerks' room and
+the servants' hall. The Service, in fact, is a body of critics whose
+judgments would, if we only heard them, cause us to reconsider our
+self-respect. Great Philanthropist, great Statesman, saintly
+Preacher--if you only knew what they say of you--down below!
+
+The clerks, as Sir Samuel Dering--his face composed to the solemnity of
+a mute--walked into the new Partner's room, whispered to each other:
+'He's going to finish him. There'll be a bolt to-night.--He won't dare
+face it out.--He _have_ got a nerve!!!--The game's up at last.--They
+won't prosecute; you see if they do. If it was one of us, now.--Sir
+Samuel's come to warn him--now you'll see.' With other exchanges and
+surmises.
+
+Sir Samuel, big and important, coldly inclined his head and took a
+chair. 'A few words,' he said--'a few serious words, if you please,
+sir.'
+
+'Pray, go on.' George sat up and listened, his upper lip stiffened. He
+knew what was coming. The thing which Sir Samuel proposed to say,
+apparently became difficult. He turned red and stammered. In fact, it is
+very difficult to inform a highly respectable young man in a highly
+respectable position that he is going to be charged with a crime of
+peculiar atrocity.
+
+'I am here,' he said, after two or three false starts, 'without my
+brother's knowledge. This is a private and unofficial visit. I come to
+advise. My visit must be regarded as without prejudice.'
+
+'Is it not well to ask first of all if your advice is invited?'
+
+'In such a case as this, I venture to obtrude advice,' Sir Samuel
+replied with dignity. 'There are occasions on which a man should
+speak--he is bound to speak. You will remember that I was to have been
+your brother-in-law----'
+
+'You are to be my brother-in-law. Well, Sir Samuel, go on. I will hear
+what you have to say.'
+
+'You are, as no doubt you suspect and fear, about to be charged in
+company with another, with complicity in this long series of forgeries.'
+
+'Really? I heard last night from Elsie that there was some talk of such
+a charge. Now, Sir Samuel, a man of your experience must be aware that
+it is not enough for a foolish old clerk to suggest a charge; but there
+must be some connection between the accused person and the crime.'
+
+'Connection? Good Heavens! There is a solid chain of evidence, without a
+single weak point.'
+
+'Is there indeed? Well, we will not ask for the production of your
+chain. Let us take it for granted. Go on to the next point.'
+
+'I wish, young gentleman, I wish most sincerely, for the credit
+of yourself, and for the happiness of the unfortunate girl who
+has given you her heart, that my chain was of glass, to fly into
+a thousand fragments. But it is not. Everything is complete. The
+motive: the tempter: the conspiracy: the working out: the apparent
+success--everything complete. The motive--want of money.'
+
+'Want of money? Well, I was pretty badly off. That cannot be denied. Go
+on.'
+
+'You wanted money--both of you--wanted money. In ninety cases out of a
+hundred, this is the cause--wanted money. So you went and did it. Always
+the way in the City--they want money--and so they go and do it--go and
+do it.'
+
+'I see. Well, we need not have the tempter and the rest of it. They can
+wait. Let us go on to the advice.'
+
+'Just so. What I came to say is this. You are in a devil of a mess,
+young gentleman: the whole job is found out: there's no use in trying to
+brazen it out. Best come down at once.'
+
+George nodded with as much good humour as he could assume under the
+circumstances.
+
+'Down at once,' Sir Samuel repeated. 'It is always best in the long run.
+In your case, there is every reason why a scandal should be avoided.
+The thing hasn't got into the papers: we are only yet in the first stage
+of finding out what has been actually stolen: it has not been a case in
+which the police could help. Now my brother is not a vindictive man. I,
+for my own part, don't want my wife's brother, to say nothing of you,
+convicted of forgery. Eh? Beastly thing, to go down to the City in the
+morning and to hear them whispering, "That's his wife's brother in the
+papers to-day. Lagged for fifteen years." Fifteen years for certain, it
+will be, my fine fellow.'
+
+'Fifteen years for certain,' George repeated.
+
+'Let me help you out of the mess. Don't make difficulties. Don't stick
+out your chin. Think of Elsie!'
+
+George nearly lost his self-control--not quite.
+
+'Think of Elsie!' he cried. 'Best not mention her name, Sir Samuel, if
+you please.'
+
+'She would be heart-broken if it went so far. If it stops short of that,
+she will soon get over the little disappointment.'
+
+'Go on to the next point.'
+
+'Well--it is just this. I'll help you both--Athelstan as well as
+you--yes--I'll help Athelstan. Hang the fellow! Why couldn't he stay at
+Camberwell? Who cares about him and his bad company, if he keeps himself
+out of people's way? Now, then. Let me have back the money. You haven't
+drawn anything out of the Bank. Give me the papers. Then I'll square it
+with my brother. I will advance you a hundred or two: you shall go clear
+out of the country, and never come back again. And then, though it's
+compounding a felony, we'll just put everything back again, and say
+nothing more about it.'
+
+'Oh! That is very good of you.'
+
+'Yes, I know. But I want to make things easy. I don't want a beastly row
+and a scandal. As for Athelstan, I shouldn't know the fellow if I ever
+saw him. I hardly remember him. But for you I've always had a liking,
+until these little events happened.'
+
+'Very good, indeed, of you.'
+
+'When the thing came out, I said to Lady Dering. "My dear," I said, "I'm
+very sorry for your sister, because it will vex her more than a bit. The
+engagement, of course, will be broken off; but we must not have a
+scandal. We cannot afford it. We can not"--he smiled--"we are positively
+not rich enough. Only the very richest people can afford to have such a
+scandal. I will try and get things squared," I said, "for all our
+sakes." That is what I said to Lady Dering. Now, be persuaded. Do the
+right thing. Tell Athelstan what I have told you. The warrant for the
+arrest of the man Edmund Gray will be issued to-morrow, I suppose, or
+next day. After that, nothing can save you.'
+
+'Nothing can save me,' George repeated. 'Is that all you came to say,
+Sir Samuel?'
+
+'That is all. A clean breast is all we ask.'
+
+'Then, Sir Samuel'--George rose and took a bundle of papers from the
+table--'let us find my Partner. You shall hear what I have to say.'
+
+'Ah! that's right--that's sensible. I knew that you would be open to
+reason. Come. He is sure to be alone at this early hour. Come at once.'
+
+They went out together. The clerks noted their faces full of 'business,'
+as we poetically put it--matters of buying and selling being notoriously
+of the highest importance conceivable. Evidently something very serious
+indeed had passed. But the chief personage still held up his head.
+'Game, sir, game to the last. But there will be a bolt.'
+
+Mr. Dering was in his usual place, before the letters, which were still
+unopened. He looked ill, worn, and worried.
+
+'Brother,' said Sir Samuel, 'I bring you a young gentleman who has a
+communication to make of great importance.'
+
+'Is it about this case? Have you--at last found out something?' The
+tone, the words, suggested extreme irritability.
+
+'I fear not. You know, I believe, all that we have found out. But now,'
+said Sir Samuel, rubbing his hands--'now comes the long-expected----'
+
+George interrupted--'What I have to say will not take long. I hear from
+Sir Samuel that he and Checkley between them have got up a case which
+involves me in these forgeries.'
+
+'Quite right,' said Sir Samuel. 'Involves you inextricably.'
+
+'And that things have gone so far that I am about to be arrested, tried,
+and convicted. Which he rightly thinks will be a great scandal. So it
+will--so it certainly will. He therefore proposes that I should make a
+clean breast of the whole business, and give back the stolen bonds. I am
+sorry that I cannot do this, for a very simple reason--namely, that
+there is nothing to confess. But there is one thing that I must do. You
+placed the case in my hands----'
+
+'I did. I asked you to find out. I have brought no charge against you.
+Have you found out?'
+
+Mr. Dering spoke like a schoolmaster in one of his least amiable moods.
+
+'It is a very improper thing for a person accused of a crime to be
+engaged in detecting it. So I resign the case--there are the papers. You
+had better go to some solicitor accustomed to this kind of work.'
+
+'Stuff and rubbish!' cried Mr. Dering.
+
+'Sir, you have deceived me.' Sir Samuel's face was gradually resuming
+its normal length. 'You promised to confess, and you have not. You as
+good as confessed just now.--This man is clearly, unmistakably guilty,'
+he added, turning to his brother.
+
+'I have not asked you, my Partner,' Mr. Dering added, more softly, 'to
+give up the case. I have heard what is said. I have observed that the
+so-called case is built up entirely on conjecture.'
+
+'No--no,' said Sir Samuel. 'It is a sound structure, complete in every
+part.'
+
+'And there is nothing as yet to connect any man with the thing--not even
+the man Edmund Gray.'
+
+'Quite wrong--quite wrong,' said Sir Samuel. 'In the City, we may not be
+lawyers, but we understand evidence.'
+
+'I cannot choose but give up the case,' George replied. 'Consider.
+Already Mrs. Arundel has requested her daughter to break off her
+engagement; I am forbidden the house; Elsie has left her mother and gone
+to her brother. No, sir--take the papers, and give them to some other
+person.'
+
+Mr. Dering mechanically took the papers, and laid his hand upon them.
+
+'Let me remind you,' George continued, 'how far we have got. We have
+proved that Edmund Gray is a real person, known to many. We have not
+proved the connection between him and the robberies committed in his
+name. He is apparently a most respectable person. The problem before you
+is still to fix the crime on someone. I shall be glad to hear that it
+has been successfully solved.'
+
+'Glad?' asked Sir Samuel. 'You will be glad? This is amazing!'
+
+'Eight years ago, Mr. Dering, another man stood here, and was accused of
+a similar crime. He refused to stay in the house under such a charge.
+That was foolish. Time has established his innocence. I shall stay. I am
+your Partner. The Partnership can only be dissolved by mutual consent. I
+remain.'
+
+Mr. Dering laid his head upon his hand and sighed. 'I believe I shall be
+driven mad before long with this business,' he said querulously. He had
+lost something of his decision of speech. 'Well, I will give the case to
+somebody else. Meantime, look here. Tell me how these things came here.'
+
+The 'things' were two envelopes containing letters. They were addressed
+to Edmund Gray, and had been opened. One of them was George's own note
+inviting him to call. The other was the letter from the Manager of the
+Bank asking for other references.
+
+'How did they get here?' asked Mr. Dering again.
+
+'Had you not better ask Checkley?' George rang the bell.
+
+'I found these on the top of my letters, Checkley,' said Mr. Dering.
+'You were the first in the room. You put the letters on the table. I
+found them on the top of the heap. Nobody had been in the room except
+you and me. You must have put them there.'
+
+Checkley looked at the envelopes, and began to tremble. 'I don't know,'
+he said. 'I put the letters on the table. They were not among them.
+Somebody must have put them there'--he looked at the new Partner--'some
+friend of Mr. Edmund Gray, between the time that I left the room and the
+time when you came.'
+
+'I entered the room,' Mr. Dering replied, 'as you were leaving it.'
+
+'Observe,' said George, 'that in the whole conduct of this business
+there has been one man engaged who has control of the letters. That
+man--the only man in the office--is, I believe, the man before us--your
+clerk--Checkley.'
+
+'How came the letters here?' Mr. Dering repeated angrily.
+
+'I don't know,' answered Checkley. 'He'--indicating George--'must have
+put them there.'
+
+'The Devil is in the office, I believe. How do things come here? How do
+they vanish? Who put the notes in the safe? Who took the certificates
+out of the safe? All you can do is to stand and accuse each other. What
+good are you--any of you? Find out. Find out. Yesterday, there was a
+handbill about Edmund Gray in the safe. The day before there was a
+handful of Socialist tracts on the letters. Find out, I say.'
+
+'Give the things to detectives,' said George.
+
+'Let me take the case in hand, brother.' Sir Samuel laid hands on the
+papers. 'I flatter myself that I will very soon have the fellow under
+lock and key. And then, sir'--he turned to George--'scandal or no
+scandal, there shall be no pity--no mercy--none.'
+
+George laughed. 'Well, Sir Samuel, in a fortnight or so I shall call
+myself your brother-in-law. Till then, farewell.' He left the office and
+returned to his own room, the ripple of the laughter still upon his lips
+and in his eyes, so that the clerks marvelled, and the faith of those
+who believed in him was strengthened.
+
+'Before then, young crowing bantam,' cried Sir Samuel after him, 'I
+shall have you under lock and key.'
+
+'Ah!' This was Checkley. The little interjection expressed, far more
+than any words could do, his satisfaction at the prospect. Then he left
+the room grumbling and muttering.
+
+'I believe that this business will finish me off.' Mr. Dering sighed
+again, and passed his hand over his forehead. 'Night and day it worries
+me. It makes my forgetfulness grow upon me. I am as good as gone. This
+hour I cannot remember the last hour. See--I had breakfast at home as
+usual. I remember that. I remember setting out. It is ten minutes walk
+from Bedford Row to here. I have taken an hour and a half. How? I do not
+know. What did I do last night? I do not know; and I am pursued by this
+forger--robber--demon. He puts things in my safe--yesterday, a placard
+that Edmund Gray was going to give a lecture on something or other--the
+day before, a bundle of tracts by Edmund Gray. What do these things
+mean? What can I do?'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+HE COMES FROM EDMUND GRAY
+
+
+'Nothing,' said Athelstan, 'could possibly happen more fortunately. We
+have turned whispering conspirators into declared enemies. Now you are
+free to investigate in your own way without having to report progress
+every day.'
+
+'About this new business about the letters and the things in the safe,'
+said Elsie. 'It looks to me like _diablerie_. Checkley couldn't do it.
+No conjuror in the world could do it. There must be somebody else in the
+office to do these things. They mean defiance. The forger says: "See--I
+do what I please with you. I return your letters addressed to Edmund
+Gray. I place placards about Edmund Gray in your safe--for which nobody
+has a key except yourself. Find me, if you can."'
+
+'Yes; it is very mysterious.'
+
+'A Person on Two Sticks might manage it. Very likely, he is concerned in
+the business. Or a boy under the table would be able to do it. Perhaps
+there is a boy under the table. There must be. Mr. Dering's table is
+like the big bed of Ware. I daresay fifty boys might creep under that
+table and wait there for a chance. But perhaps there is only one--a
+comic boy.'
+
+'I should like to catch the joker,' said George. 'I would give him
+something still more humorous to laugh at.'
+
+'If there is no comic boy--and no Person on Two Sticks,' Elsie
+continued, 'we are thrown back upon Checkley. He seems to be the only
+man who receives the letters and goes in and out of the office all day.
+Well--I don't think it is Checkley. I don't think it can be-- George,
+you once saw Mr. Dering in a very strange condition, unconscious,
+walking about with open eyes seeing nobody. Don't you think that he may
+have done this more than once?'
+
+'What do you mean, Elsie?'
+
+'Don't you think that some of these things--things put in the safe, for
+instance, may have been put there by Mr. Dering himself? You saw him
+open the safe. Afterwards he knew nothing about it. Could he not do
+this more than once--might it be a habit?'
+
+'Well--but if he puts the things in the safe--things that belonged to
+Edmund Gray, he must know Edmund Gray. For instance, how did he get my
+note to Edmund Gray, left by me on his table in Gray's Inn? That must
+have been given to him by Edmund Gray himself.'
+
+'Or by some friend of Edmund Gray. Yes; that is quite certain.'
+
+'Come,' said Athelstan. 'This infernal Edmund Gray is too much with us.
+Let us leave off talking about him for a while. Let him rest for this
+evening.--Elsie, put on your things. We will go and dine somewhere, and
+go to the play afterwards.'
+
+They did so. They had the quiet little restaurant dinner that girls have
+learned of late to love so much--the little dinner, where everything
+seems so much brighter and better served than one can get at home. After
+the dinner they went to a theatre, taking places in the Dress Circle,
+where, given good eyes, one sees quite as well as from the stalls at
+half the money. After the theatre they went home and there was an
+exhibition of tobacco and soda water. Those were very pleasant days in
+the Piccadilly lodgings, even allowing for the troubles which brought
+them about. Athelstan was the most delightful of brothers, and every
+evening brought its feast of laughter and of delightful talk. But all
+through the evening, all through the play, Elsie saw nothing but Mr.
+Dering and him engaged in daylight somnambulism. She saw him as George
+described him, opening the safe, closing it again, and afterwards wholly
+forgetful of what he had done.
+
+She thought about this all night. Now, when one has a gleam or glimmer
+of an idea, when one wants to disengage a single thought from the
+myriads which cross the brain, and to fix it and to make it clear, there
+is nothing in the world so good as to talk about it. The effort of
+finding words with which to drag it out makes it clearer. Every
+story-teller knows that the mere telling of a story turns his
+characters, who before were mere shadows, and shapeless shadows, into
+creatures of flesh and blood. Therefore, in the morning she began upon
+the thought which haunted her.
+
+'Athelstan,' she said, 'do you know anything about somnambulism?'
+
+'I knew a man once in California who shot a grizzly when he was
+sleep-walking. At least, he said so. That's the sum of my knowledge on
+the subject.'
+
+'I want to know if people often walk about in the daytime unconscious?'
+
+'They do. It is called wool-gathering.'
+
+'Seriously, Athelstan. Consider. George saw Mr. Dering arrive in a state
+of unconsciousness. He saw nobody in the room. He opened the safe and
+placed some papers there. Then he locked the safe. Then he sat down at
+the window. Presently he awoke, and became himself again. If he did that
+once, he might do it again.'
+
+'Well? And then?'
+
+'You heard yesterday about the letters, and the placard and the
+Socialist tracts. Now Checkley couldn't do that. He couldn't, and he
+wouldn't.'
+
+'Well?'
+
+'But Mr. Dering could. If he had that attack once, he might have it
+again and again. Why, he constantly complains of forgetting things.'
+
+'But the letters yesterday were addressed to Edmund Gray. How do you
+connect Edmund Gray with Edward Dering?'
+
+'I don't know. But, my dear brother, the more I think of this business,
+the more persuaded I am that Checkley is not the prime mover, or even a
+confederate.'
+
+'The same hand has doubtless been at work throughout. If not Checkley's
+aid to make that hand possible and successful, who is there? And look at
+the malignity with which he tries to fix it on some one else.'
+
+'That may be because he is afraid of its being fixed upon him. Consider
+that point about the control of the letters. The business could only be
+done by some one through whose hands passed all the letters.'
+
+'Checkley is the only person possible.'
+
+'Yes; he understands that. It makes him horribly afraid. He therefore
+lies with all his might in order to pass on suspicion to another person.
+You and George think him guilty--well, I do not. If I were trying to
+find out the man, I should try a different plan altogether.'
+
+Her brother had work to do which took him out directly after an early
+breakfast. When Elsie was left alone, she began again to think about
+Mr. Dering's strange daylight somnambulism; about his continual fits of
+forgetfulness; about the odd things found on his table and in his safe,
+all connected with Edmund Gray. Checkley could not have placed those
+letters on the table: he could not have put those things in the safe.
+
+Elsie looked at the clock. It was only just after nine. She ran to her
+room, put on her jacket and hat, and called a cab.
+
+She arrived at half-past nine. Checkley was already in his master's
+room, laying out the table for the day's work as usual. The girl was
+touched at the sight of this old servant of sixty years' service doing
+these offices zealously and jealously. She stood in the outer office
+watching him through the open door. When he had finished, he came out
+and saw her.
+
+'Oh!' he grumbled. 'It's you, is it? Well--he hasn't come. If you want
+to see Mr. Dering, it's full early. If you want to see the new partner,
+he isn't come. He don't hurry himself. Perhaps you'll sit down a bit and
+look at the paper. Here's the _Times_. He'll be here at a quarter to
+ten.'
+
+Checkley sat down at his desk and took up a pen. But he laid it down
+again and began to talk. 'We're in trouble, Miss. No fault of yours-- I
+don't say it is. We're in trouble. The trouble is going to be worse
+before it's better. They're not content with robbing the master, but
+they mock at him and jeer him. They jeer him. They put on his table
+letters addressed to the man they call Edmund Gray. They open his safe
+and put things in it belonging to Edmund Gray. We're not so young as we
+was, and it tells upon us. We're not so regular as we should be.
+Sometimes we're late--and sometimes we seem, just for a bit, not to know
+exactly who we are nor what we are. Oh! it's nothing--nothing, but what
+will pass away when the trouble's over. But think of the black
+ingratitood, Miss--Oh! black--black. I'm not blamin' you; but I think
+you ought to know the trouble we're in--considering who's done it and
+all.'
+
+Elsie made no reply. She had nothing to say. Certainly she could not
+enter into a discussion with this man as to the part, if any, taken in
+the business by the new partner. Then Checkley made a show of beginning
+to write with zeal. The morning was hot: the place was quiet: the old
+man's hand gradually slackened: the pen stopped: the eyes closed: his
+head dropped back upon his chair: he was asleep. It is not uncommon for
+an old man to drop off in this way.
+
+Elsie sat perfectly still. At eleven o'clock she heard a step upon the
+stairs. It mounted: it stopped: the private door was opened, and Mr.
+Dering entered. He stood for a moment in the doorway, looking about the
+room. Now, as the girl looked at him, she perceived that he was again in
+the condition described by George--as a matter of fact, it was in this
+condition that Mr. Dering generally arrived in the morning. His coat was
+unbuttoned: his face wore the genial and benevolent look which we do not
+generally associate with lawyers of fifty years' standing: the eyes were
+Mr. Dering's eyes, but they were changed--not in colour or in form, but
+in expression. Elsie was reminded of her portrait. That imaginary sketch
+was no other than the Mr. Dering who now stood before her.
+
+He closed the door behind him and walked across the room to the window.
+
+Then Elsie, lightly, so as not to awaken the drowsy old clerk, stepped
+into Mr. Dering's office and shut the door softly behind her.
+
+The sleep-walker stood at the window, looking out. Elsie crept up and
+stood beside him. Then she touched him on the arm. He started and
+turned. 'Young lady,' he said, 'what can I do for you?' He showed no
+sign of recognition at all in his eyes: he did not know her. 'Can I do
+anything for you?' he repeated.
+
+'I am afraid--nothing,' she replied.
+
+He looked at her doubtfully. Then apparently remembering some duty as
+yet unfulfilled, he left the window and unlocked the safe. He then drew
+out of his pocket a manuscript tied up with red tape. Elsie looked into
+the safe and read the title--'_The New Humanity_, by Edmund Gray,' which
+was written in large letters on the outer page. Then he shut and locked
+the safe and dropped the key in his own pocket. This done, he returned
+to the window and sat down, taking no manner of notice of his visitor.
+All this exactly as he had done before in presence of George and his old
+clerk.
+
+For ten minutes he sat there. Then he shivered, straightened himself,
+stood up, and looked about the room, Mr. Dering again.
+
+'Elsie!' he cried. 'I did not know you were here. How long have you been
+here?'
+
+'Not very long. A few minutes, perhaps.'
+
+'I must have fallen asleep. It is a hot morning. You must forgive the
+weakness of an old man, child. I had a bad night too. I was awake a long
+time, thinking of all these troubles and worries. They can't find out,
+Elsie, who has robbed me.' He spoke querulously and helplessly. 'They
+accuse each other, instead of laying their heads together. Nonsense!
+Checkley couldn't do it. George couldn't do it. The thing was done by
+somebody else. My brother came here with a cock-and-bull case, all built
+up of presumptions and conclusions. If they would only find out!'
+
+'The trouble is mine as much as yours, Mr. Dering. I have had to leave
+my mother's house, where I had to listen to agreeable prophecies about
+my lover and my brother. I wish, with you, that they would find out!'
+
+He took off his hat and hung it on its peg. He buttoned his frock-coat
+and took his place at the table, upright and precise. Yet his eyes were
+anxious.
+
+'They tease me too. They mock me. Yesterday, they laid two letters
+addressed to this man, Edmund Gray, on my letters. What for? To laugh at
+me, to defy me to find them out. Checkley swears he didn't put them
+there. I arrived at the moment when he was leaving the room. Are we
+haunted? And the day before--and the day before that--there were things
+put in the safe----'
+
+'In the safe? Oh! but nobody has the key except yourself. How can
+anything be put in the safe?'
+
+'I don't know. I don't know anything. I don't know what may be taken
+next. My houses--my mortgages, my lands, my very practice----'
+
+'Nay,--they could not. Is there anything this morning?'
+
+He turned over his letters. 'Apparently not. Stay; I have not looked in
+the safe. He got up and threw open the safe. Then he took up a packet.
+'Again!' he cried almost with a scream. 'Again! See this!' He tossed on
+the table the packet which he had himself, only ten minutes before,
+placed in the safe with his own hands. 'See this! Thus they laugh at
+me--thus they torment me!' He hurled the packet to the other side of the
+room, returned to his chair, and laid his head upon his hands, sighing
+deeply.
+
+Elsie took up the parcel. It was rather a bulky manuscript. The title
+you have heard. She untied the tape and turned over the pages. The work,
+she saw, was the Autobiography of Edmund Gray. _And it was in the
+handwriting of Mr. Dering!_
+
+She replaced it in the safe. 'Put everything there,' she said, 'which is
+sent to you. Everything. Do you know anything at all about this man
+Edmund Gray?'
+
+'Nothing, my dear child, absolutely nothing. I never saw the man. I
+never heard of him. Yet he has planted himself upon me. He holds his
+Chambers on a letter of recommendation from me. I was his introducer to
+the manager of the Bank--I--in my own handwriting--as they thought. He
+drew a cheque of 720_l_. upon me eight years ago. And he has transferred
+thirty-eight thousand pounds' worth of shares and stock to his own
+address.'
+
+'Added to which, he has been the cause of suspicion and vile accusation
+against my lover and my brother, which it will cost a great deal of
+patience to forgive. Dear Mr. Dering, I am so sorry for you. It is most
+wonderful and most mysterious. Suppose,' she laid her hand upon
+his--'suppose that I was to find out for you----'
+
+'You, child? What can you do, when the others have failed?'
+
+'I can but try.'
+
+'Try, in Heaven's name. Try, my dear. If you find out, you shall be
+burned for a witch.'
+
+'No. If I find out, you shall be present at my wedding. You were to have
+given me away. But now--now--Athelstan shall give me away, and you will
+be there to see. And it will be a tearful wedding'--the tears came into
+her own eyes just to illustrate the remark--'because everyone will be so
+ashamed of the wicked things they have said. Sir Samuel will remain on
+his knees the whole service, and Checkley will be fain to get under the
+seat.--Good-bye, Mr. Dering. I am a Prophetess. I can foretell. You
+shall hear in a very few days all about Edmund Gray.'
+
+She ran away without any further explanation. Mr. Dering shook his head
+and smiled. He did not believe in contemporary Prophecy. That young
+people should place their own affairs--their love-makings and
+weddings--before the affairs of their elders, was not surprising. For
+himself, as he sometimes remembered--and always when this girl, with
+her pretty ways and soft voice, was with him--her visit had cheered him.
+He opened his letters and went on with the day's work.
+
+As for Elsie, the smile in her eyes died out as she descended the
+stairs. If she had been herself a lawyer, she could not have worn a
+graver face as she walked across the courts of the venerable Inn.
+
+She had established the connection between Mr. Dering and Edmund Gray.
+It was he, and nobody else, who laid those letters on the table--placed
+those things in the safe. This being so, it must be he himself, and
+nobody else, who wrote all the letters, signed the cheques, and did all
+the mischief. He himself! But how? Elsie had read of hypnotism.
+Wonderful things are done daily by mesmerists and magnetisms under their
+new name. Mr. Dering was hypnotised by this man Edmund Gray--as he
+called himself--for his own base ends. Well--she would find out this
+Edmund Gray. She would beard this villain in his own den.
+
+She walked resolutely to Gray's Inn. She found No. 22--she mounted the
+stairs. The outer door was closed. She knocked, but there was no answer.
+She remembered how George had found his laundress, and visited her at
+her lodgings--she thought she would do the same. But on the stairs she
+went down she met an old woman so dirty, so ancient, so feeble, that she
+seemed to correspond with George's account of her.
+
+'You are Mr. Gray's laundress?' she asked.
+
+'Yes, Miss; I am.' The woman looked astonished to see such a visitor.
+
+'I want to see him. I want to see him on very important business. Most
+important to himself. When can I see him?'
+
+'I don't know, Miss. He is uncertain. He was here yesterday evening. He
+said he should not be here this evening. But I don't know.'
+
+'Look here.' Elsie drew out her purse. 'Tell me when you think he will
+be here, and if I find him I will give you two pounds--two golden
+sovereigns. If you tell me right I will give you two sovereigns.'
+
+She showed them. The old woman looked hungrily at the coins. 'Well,
+Miss, he's been here every Saturday afternoon for the last six months. I
+know it by the litter of papers that he makes. Every Saturday
+afternoon.'
+
+'Very good. You shall have your money if I find him.'
+
+In the evening, Elsie said nothing about Mr. Dering and her strange
+discovery. The two young men talked about trying this way and that way,
+always with the view of implicating Checkley. But she said nothing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+I AM EDMUND GRAY
+
+
+On Saturday afternoon, the policeman on day-duty at Gray's Inn was
+standing near the southern portals of that venerable Foundation in
+conversation with the boy who dispenses the newspapers, from a warehouse
+constructed in the eastern wall of the archway. It was half-past three
+by the clock and a fine day, which was remarkable for the
+season--August--and the year. The sun poured upon the dingy old courts,
+making them dingier instead of brighter. Where the paint of the windows
+and door-posts is faded and dirty--where the panes are mostly in want of
+cleaning--where there are no flowers in the windows--where there are no
+trees or leaves in the Square--where the bricks want painting, and where
+the soot has gathered in every chink and blackens every cranny--then the
+sunshine of summer only makes a dingy court shabbier. Gray's Inn in July
+and August, unless these months are as the August of the year of grace
+1891, looks old, but not venerable. Age should be clean and nicely
+dressed: age should wear a front to conceal her baldness: age should
+assume false teeth to disguise those gums stripped of their ivory. It
+was felt by the policeman. 'We want a washin' and a brightenin' in this
+old place,' he remarked to the journalist. We want somethin' younger
+than them old laundresses,' said the newspaper boy. Great is the Goddess
+Coincidence. Even while he uttered this aspiration, a young lady entered
+the gate and passed into the Inn.
+
+'Ha!' breathed the policeman, softly.
+
+'Ah!' sighed the journalist.
+
+She was a young lady of adorable face and form, surpassing the wildest
+dreams either of policeman or of paper-man--both of whom possessed the
+true poetic temperament. She was clothed in raiment mystic, wonderful,
+such as seldom indeed gets as far east as Gray's Inn, something in gray
+or silver gray with an open front and a kind of jacket. She passed them
+rapidly, and walked through the passage into the Square.
+
+'No. 22,' said the policeman. 'Now, who does she want at No. 22? Who's
+on the ground-floor of 22?'
+
+'Right hand--Architects and Surveyors. Left hand--Universal
+Translators.'
+
+'Perhaps she's a Universal Translator. They must be all gone by this
+time. The first floor is lawyers. They're all gone too. I saw the clerks
+march out at two o'clock. Second floor--there's Mr. Carstone on the
+left, and Mr. Edmund Gray on the right. Perhaps it's Mr. Carstone she's
+after. I hope it isn't him. He's a gentleman with fine manners, and they
+do say a great scholar, but he's a Lushington, and a sweet young thing
+like that ought not to marry a man who is brought home every other night
+too tipsy to stand. Or there's Mr. Gray--the old gent--perhaps she's his
+daughter. What's Mr. Edmund Gray by calling, Joe?'
+
+'Nobody knows. He don't often come. An old gentleman--been in the Inn a
+long time--for years. Lives in the country, I suppose, and does no work.
+Lives on other people's work--my work--honest working men's work,' said
+the boy, who was a Socialist and advanced.
+
+'Ah! There's something up about Mr. Gray. People are coming to inquire
+for him. First, it was a young gentleman: very affable he was--and free
+with his money--most likely other people's money. He wanted to know a
+good deal about Mr. Gray--more than I could tell him--wanted to know how
+often he came, and what he was like when he did come--and would I tell
+him all I knew. He went to the old laundress afterwards.--Then it was a
+little old man--I know him by sight--uses the _Salutation_ Parlour of an
+evening--he wanted to know all about Mr. Gray too. No half-crown in that
+quarter, though. He's been spying and watching for him--goes and hides
+up the passage on the other side of the Square. Kind of a spider he is.
+He's watching him for no good, I'll bet. Perhaps the young lady wants to
+find out about him too.--Joe, there's something up at No. 22. The old
+gentleman isn't in his chambers, I believe. She'll come out again
+presently, and it'll be: "Oh, Mr. Policeman, could you very kindly tell
+me how I can find Mr. Edmund Gray?" With a shilling perhaps, and
+perhaps not. I wonder what she wants with Mr. Edmund Gray? Sometimes
+these old chaps break out in the most surprising manner. Joe, if you
+ever go into the Service, you'll find the work hard and the pay small.
+But there's compensation in learnin' things. If you want to know human
+nature, go into the Force.'
+
+'There's old Mr. Langhorne, up at the top.'
+
+'So there is. But no young lady wants to see that poor old chap. He's
+got no friends, young nor old--no friends and no money. Just now, he's
+terrible hard up. Took a shillin' off o' me last Sunday to get a bit of
+dinner with. Fine thing--isn't it, Joe?--to be a gentleman and a
+barrister all your life, isn't it--and to end like that? Starvation in a
+garret--eh?-- Look out. She will be coming down directly.'
+
+But she did not come down. Two hours and more passed, and she did not
+come down.
+
+The visitor was Elsie Arundel. She walked up the stairs to the second
+floor. Here she stopped. There was a black door, closed, on the right of
+her, and another black door, closed, on the left of her. On the lintel
+of one was the name of Mr. F. W. Carstone. On the lintel of the other
+was that of Mr. Edmund Gray. Elsie knocked with her parasol at the
+latter door. There was no reply. 'The old laundress,' she murmured,
+'told me that Saturday afternoon was my best chance of finding him. I
+will wait.' She sat down with hesitation on the stairs leading to the
+third floor--they were not too clean--and waited.
+
+She was going to do a very plucky thing--a dangerous thing. She had made
+a discovery connecting Mr. Dering directly with this Edmund Gray. She
+had learned that he came to the office in a strange condition, perhaps
+hypnotic, bringing things from Edmund Gray. She now suspected that the
+only person who carried on the forgeries on Mr. Dering was Mr. Dering
+himself, acted on and perhaps mesmerised by Edmund Gray--and she wanted
+to find out who this Edmund Gray was. She would confront him and tax him
+with the crime. It was dangerous, but he could not kill her. Besides, he
+was described as quite an elderly man. He was also described as a
+benevolent man, a charitable man, a kindly man: and he wrote letters
+brimful of the most cheerful optimism. Yet he was carrying on a series
+of complicated forgeries. She resolved to wait for him. She would wait
+till sundown, if necessary, for him.
+
+The place was very quiet. All the offices were closed and the clerks
+gone. Most of the men who lived in the chambers were away, out of town,
+gone on holiday, gone away from Saturday till Monday. Everything was
+quite quiet and still: the traffic in Holborn was only heard as a
+continuous murmur which formed part of the stillness: the policeman, who
+had now said all he had to say to the newspaper boy, was walking slowly
+and with heavy tread round the Court. The Inn was quite empty and
+deserted and still. Only, overhead there was the footfall of a man who
+walked up and down his room steadily, never stopping or ceasing or
+changing the time, like the beat of a pendulum. Elsie began to wonder,
+presently, who this man could be, and if he had nothing better to do
+than to pace his chamber all day long, when the sun was bright and the
+leaves on the trees and the flowers in full bloom.
+
+The clock struck four: Elsie had been waiting half an hour: still Mr.
+Edmund Gray did not arrive: still the steady beat of the footstep
+continued overhead.
+
+The clock struck five. Still that steady footfall. Still Elsie sat upon
+the stairs waiting in patience.
+
+When the clock struck six, the footsteps stopped--or changed. Then a
+door overhead opened and shut and the steps came down the stairs. Elsie
+rose and stood on one side. An old man came down--tall and thin,
+close-shaven, pale, dressed in a black frock-coat, worn to a shiny
+polish in all those parts which take a polish--a shabby old man whose
+hat seemed hardly able to stand upright: and a gentleman--which was
+perfectly clear from his bearing--a gentleman in the last stage of
+poverty and decay.
+
+He started, surprised to see a young lady on the stairs.
+
+'You are waiting for Mr. Carstone?' he asked. 'He is out of town. He
+will not be back till Monday. Nobody ever comes back before Monday. From
+Saturday to Monday I have the Inn to myself. All that time there are no
+slammers and no strangers. It is an agreeable retreat, if only----' He
+shook his head and stopped short.
+
+'I am not waiting for Mr. Carstone. I am waiting for Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+'He is very uncertain. No one knows when he comes or whither he goeth. I
+would not wait if I were you. He may come to-day, or to-morrow, or at
+any time. He comes on Sunday morning, often. I hear him coming up-stairs
+after the chapel bell stops. He is a quiet neighbour--no slammer or
+tramper. I would not wait, I say, if I were you.'
+
+'I will wait a little longer. I am very anxious to see Mr. Gray.'
+
+'He should wait for you,' Mr. Langhorne replied, politely. 'The stairs
+are not a fit resting-place for you. This old Inn is too quiet for such
+as you. Mirth and joy belong to you-- Silence and rest to such as me.
+Even slamming does not, I daresay, greatly displease youth and beauty.
+Chambers are not for young ladies. Beauty looks for life and love and
+admiration. They do not exist here. Run away, young lady--leave the Inn
+to the poor old men, like me, who cannot get away if they would.'
+
+'Thank you.--I must see Mr. Edmund Gray, if I can. It will not hurt me
+to wait a little longer.'
+
+'You wish to see Edmund Gray. So do I. So do I. You are a friend of his.
+Perhaps, therefore, you will do as well. Those who are his friends are
+like unto him for kindness of heart. Those who wish to be his friends
+must try to be like unto him. Young lady, I will treat you as the friend
+of that good man. You can act for him.'
+
+'What can I do if I do act for him?' But there was a hungry eagerness in
+the man's eyes which made her divine what she could do.
+
+'It is Saturday.' He replied without looking at her. He turned away his
+head. He spoke to the stair-window. 'To-morrow is Sunday. I have before
+this, on one or two occasions, found myself as I do now--without money.
+I have borrowed of Mr. Carstone and of Mr. Edmund Gray. Sometimes, I
+have paid it back--not always. Lend me--for Mr. Edmund Gray--if you are
+not rich, he will give it back to you--the sum of five shillings--say,
+five shillings. Otherwise, I shall have nothing to eat until Monday,
+when Mr. Carstone returns.'
+
+'Nothing to eat? Nothing at all to eat?' Beggars in the street often
+make the same confession, but somehow their words fail to carry
+conviction. Mr. Langhorne, however, did carry conviction.
+
+The old man shook his head. 'I had some food yesterday at this time.
+Since then I have had nothing. There was neither tea nor bread in my
+rooms for breakfast. When the clock struck six, my dinner hour, I
+thought I would walk along the street and look at the things to eat
+which are placed in the shop windows. That relieves a little. But
+to-morrow will be a bad time--a very bad time. I shall lie in bed. Oh! I
+have gone through it before. Sometimes'--he dropped his voice--'I have
+been sore tempted to take something---- No--no; don't think I have given
+way. No--no. Why--I should be--disbarred. Not yet--not yet.'
+
+Elsie opened her purse. It contained two sovereigns and a shilling or
+two. 'Take all,' she said eagerly. 'Take all the gold, and leave me the
+silver. Take it instantly.' She stamped her foot.
+
+He hesitated. 'All?' he asked. 'All? Can you spare it? I can never
+repay----'
+
+'Take it!' she said again, imperiously.
+
+He obeyed: he took the gold out of the purse with trembling fingers.
+Then he raised his rickety old hat--was that a tear that stole into his
+eyes, or the rheum of old age?--and slowly walked down the stairs,
+holding by the banisters. He was weak, poor wretch! with hunger. But it
+was his dinner hour, and he was going to have his dinner.
+
+Elsie sat down again.
+
+It was half-past six--she had been waiting for three hours--when other
+footsteps entered the house. Elsie sprang to her feet: she turned pale:
+her heart stood still; for now she realised that if this step was truly
+that of the man she expected, she was about to confront a person
+certainly of the deepest criminality, and possibly capable of villainy
+in any other direction. The steps mounted the stairs. I really think
+that the bravest persons in the world are those who before the event
+look forward to it with the utmost apprehension. They know, you see,
+what the dangers are. Elsie was going to face a great danger. She was
+going to find out, alone and unaided, who this man was, and why and how
+he worked these deeds of darkness.
+
+The footsteps mounted higher: from the door to the top of the stairs it
+took but a single minute, yet to Elsie it seemed half an hour, so rapid
+were her thoughts. Then the man mounted the last flight of steps.
+Heavens! Elsie was fain to cry out for sheer amazement. She cried out:
+she caught at the banisters. For, before her, taking the key of Mr.
+Edmund Gray's Chambers from his waistcoat pocket, was none other than
+Mr. Dering himself!
+
+Yes. An elderly man, of truly benevolent aspect, his coat open flying
+all abroad, his face soft, gracious, smiling, and full of sunshine, his
+hat just the least bit pushed back, his left hand in his pocket. Elsie
+thought again of her portrait at home, in which she had transformed her
+guardian--and here he was in the flesh--transformed according to her
+portrait.
+
+She stared at him with an amazement that bereft her of speech and of
+motion. She could only stare. Even if her mother's voice were suddenly
+to call out to her that it is rude for little girls to stare, she could
+not choose but stare. For Mr. Dering looked at her with that kind of
+surprise in his eyes which means, 'What have we here to do with
+beautiful young ladies?' There was not the least sign of any knowledge
+of her. He looked at her as one suffers the eyes to rest for a moment
+without interest upon a stranger and a casual passenger in the street.
+
+He opened his outer door, and was about to walk in, when she recovered
+some presence of mind--not much. She stepped forward. 'Can you tell me,
+please, how I could find Mr. Edmund Gray?'
+
+'Certainly,' he smiled--'nothing easier. 'I am Edmund Gray.'
+
+'You!--you--Edmund Gray? Oh! No--no. You cannot be Edmund Gray--you
+yourself!' All her beautiful theory of hypnotic influence vanished. No
+mesmerism or magnetic influence at all. 'You yourself?' she repeated,
+'you--Edmund Gray?'
+
+'Assuredly. Why not? Why should a man not be himself?'
+
+'Oh! I don't understand. The world is going upside down. I took
+you--took you for another person.'
+
+He laughed gently. 'Truly, I am none other than Edmund Gray--always
+Edmund Gray. My first name I can never change if I wished, because it is
+my baptismal name. The latter I do not wish to change, because it is my
+name ancestral.'
+
+'I asked because--because--I fancied a resemblance to another person.
+Were you ever told that you are much like a certain other person?'
+
+'No; I think not. Resemblances, however, are extremely superficial. No
+two living creatures are alike. We are alone, each living out his life
+in the great Cosmos, quite alone--unlike any other living creature.
+However, I am Edmund Gray, young lady. It isn't often that I receive a
+visit from a young lady in these Chambers. If you have no other doubt
+upon that point, will you let me ask you, once more, how I can help you?
+And will you come in and sit down?'
+
+'Oh! it is wonderful,' she cried--'wonderful! most wonderful!' Again she
+controlled herself. 'Are you,' she asked again, 'the same Mr. Edmund
+Gray who wrote the letter to the _Times_ the other day?'
+
+'Certainly. There is no other person, I believe, of the name in this
+Inn. Have you read that letter?'
+
+'Yes--oh, yes.'
+
+'And you have come here to talk to me about that letter?'
+
+'Yes--yes.' She caught at the hint. 'That is why I came--to talk about
+that letter. I came in the hope of finding the author of that letter at
+home.'
+
+He threw open the door of his sitting-room.
+
+'Will you step in? We can talk quite quietly here. The Inn at this
+hour on Saturday is almost deserted.' He closed the outer door and
+followed his visitor into the sitting-room. 'This,' he went on, 'is
+the quietest place in the whole of London. We have not, in this
+Square, the stately elms of the old garden, but still we have our little
+advantages--spacious rooms--quiet always in the evening and on Sundays.
+A few rackety young men, perhaps; but for one who reads and meditates,
+no better place in London.--Now, young lady, take the easy-chair and sit
+down. We will talk. There are very few people who talk to me about my
+theories. That is because I am old, so that I have lost my friends, and
+because my views are in advance of the world. No man is so lonely as the
+man born before his time. He is the prophet, you know, who must be
+stoned because he prophesies things unintelligible and therefore
+uncomfortable--even terrifying. I shall be very glad to talk a little
+with you.--Now, allow me first to open these letters.'
+
+Elsie sat down and looked about her. She was in a large low wainscoted
+room, with two windows looking upon the Square. The room was quite
+plainly but quite well furnished. There was a good-sized study table
+with drawers: a small table between the windows: a few chairs, a couch
+and an easy-chair; and a large bookcase filled with books--books on
+Socialism, George had told her. A door opened upon a smaller room: there
+was probably a bedroom at the back. A plain carpet covered the floor.
+Above the high old-fashioned mantel were two or three portraits of
+Socialist leaders. The room, if everything had not been covered with
+dust, would have been coldly neat: the chairs were all in their places:
+the window-blinds were half-way down as the laundress thought was
+proper--millions of Londoners always keep their blinds half-way down--a
+subject which must some day be investigated by the Folklore Society: the
+curtains were neatly looped: it wanted only a Bible on a table at a
+window to make it the Front Parlour of a Dalston Villa. There were no
+flowers, no ornaments of any kind.
+
+Mr. Edmund Gray opened half-a-dozen letters lying on his table and
+glanced at them. There were a great many more waiting to be opened.
+
+'All are from people who have read my letter,' he said. 'They share with
+me in the new Faith of a new Humanity. Happy is the man who strikes the
+note of leading at the right moment. Happy he who lights the lamp just
+when the darkness is beginning to be felt.--Yes, young lady, you are not
+the only one who has been drawn towards the doctrines of that letter.
+But I have no time to write to all of them. A letter makes one
+convert--a paragraph may make a thousand.'
+
+Elsie rose from her chair. She had decided on her line. You have heard
+that her voice was curiously soft and winning--a voice that charms--a
+voice which would soothe a wild creature, and fill a young man's heart
+with whatever passion she chose to awaken. She had, besides, those soft
+eyes which make men surrender their secrets, part with their power and
+their strength. Did she know that she possessed all this power?--the
+girl who had no experience save of one man's love, and that the most
+natural, easy, and unromantic love in the world, when two who are
+brought up side by side and see each other every day, presently catch
+each other by the hand and walk for the future hand in hand without a
+word. Yet Delilah herself, the experienced, the crafty, the trained and
+taught--could not--did not--act more cleverly and craftily than this
+artless damsel. To be sure, she possessed great advantages over
+Delilah--by some esteemed attractive--in the matter of personal charm.
+
+'Oh!' she murmured softly, 'it is a shame that you should be expected to
+waste your valuable time in writing letters to these people. You must
+not do it. Your time is wanted for the world, not for individuals.'
+
+'It is,' he replied--'it is. You have said it.'
+
+'You are a Master--a Leader--a Prince in Israel--a Preacher--a Prophet.'
+
+'I am--I am. You have said it. I should not myself have dared to say it.
+But I am.'
+
+'No one can doubt it who has read that letter. Be my Master--too--as
+well as the Master of--of all these people who write to you.'
+
+'Be your Master?' He blushed like a boy. 'Could I desire anything
+better?'
+
+'My Father and my Master,' she added with a little change of colour.
+Girls take fright very easily, and perhaps this old gentleman might
+interpret the invitation--well--into something other than was meant.
+
+'Yes--yes.' He held out his hand. She took it in her own--both her own
+soft hands, and bowed her head--her comely head--over it.
+
+'I came to-day thinking only'--Oh, Delilah!--'to thank you for your
+great and generous and noble words, which have put fresh heart into me.
+And now that I have thanked you, I am emboldened to ask a favour----'
+
+'Anything, anything.'
+
+'You will be my Master--you will teach me. Let me, in return, relieve
+you of this work.' She laid her hand on the pile of letters. 'Let me
+answer them for you. Let me be your Private Secretary. I have nothing to
+do. Let me work for you.' She looked into his face with the sweetest
+eyes and the most winning smile, and her voice warmed the old man's ear
+like soft music. Ah, Circe!--'Now that I have seen you--let me be your
+disciple, your most humble disciple, and'--Ah, Siren!--'let me be more,
+Edmund Gray--I cannot say Mr. Gray--let me be more, Edmund Gray.' She
+laid her hand, her soft-gloved, dainty, delicate hand, upon his, and it
+produced the effect of an electric battery gently handled. 'Let me be
+your Secretary.'
+
+It was ten o'clock before Elsie reached home that evening, and she
+refused to tell them, even her own brother and her lover, where she had
+been or how she had spent her evening.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+MASTER AND DISCIPLE
+
+
+It was Sunday afternoon in Gray's Inn. The new Disciple sat at the feet
+of the Master, her Gamaliel: one does not know exactly the attitude
+adopted by a young Rabbi of old, but in this case the disciple sat in a
+low chair, her hands folded in her lap, curiously and earnestly watching
+the Master as he walked up and down the room preaching and teaching.
+
+'Master,' she asked, 'have you always preached and held these
+doctrines?'
+
+'Not always. There was a time when I dwelt in darkness--like the rest of
+the world.'
+
+'How did you learn these things? By reading books?'
+
+'No. I discovered them. I worked them out for myself by logic, by
+reason, and by observation. Everything good and true must be discovered
+by a man for himself.'
+
+'What did you believe in that old time? Was it, with the rest of the
+world, the sacredness of Property?'
+
+'Perhaps.' He stood in front of her, laying his right forefinger in his
+left forefinger and inclining his head. 'My dear young scholar, one who
+believes as I believe, not with half a heart, but wholly, and without
+reserve, willingly forgets the time when he was as yet groping blindly
+in darkness or walking in artificial light. He wishes to forget that
+time. There is no profit in remembering that time. I have so far drilled
+and trained myself not to remember that time, that I have in fact clean
+forgotten it. I do not remember what I thought or what I said, or with
+whom I associated in that time. It is a most blessed forgetfulness. I
+daresay I could recover the memory of it if I wished, but the effort
+would be painful. Spare me. The recovery of that Part would be
+humiliating. Spare me, scholar. Yet, if you wish--if you command----'
+
+'Oh, no, no! Forgive me.' Elsie touched his hand. He took hers and held
+it. Was it with a little joy or a little fear that the girl observed the
+power she already had over him? 'I would not cause you pain.
+Besides--what does it matter?'
+
+'You know, my child, when the monk assumes the tonsure and the triple
+cord, he leaves behind him, outside the cell, all the things of the
+world--ambition, love, luxury, the pride of the eye--all--all. He
+forgets everything. He casts away everything. He abandons
+everything--for meditation and prayer. The monk,' added the Sage, 'is a
+foolish person, because his meditation advances not the world a whit. I
+am like the monk, save that I think for the world instead of myself. And
+so, spending days and nights in meditation, I know not what went
+before--nor do I care. It is a second birth when the new faith takes you
+and holds you together, so that you care for nothing else. Oh,
+child!--upon you also this shall come--this obsession--this
+possession--so that your spirit shall know of no time but that spent in
+the service of the Cause. Nay, I go so far that I forget from day to day
+what passed, except when I was actively engaged for the Cause. Yesterday
+I was here in the afternoon. You came. We talked. You offered yourself
+as my disciple. I remember every word you said. Could I ever forget a
+disciple so trustful and so humble? But--before you came. Where was I?
+Doubtless here--meditating. But I know not. Then there are things which
+one must do to live--breakfast, dinner--of these I remember nothing. Why
+should I? It is a great gift and reward to me that I should not remember
+unnecessary things--low and common things. Why should I try to do so?
+
+'No--no,' murmured the catechumen, carried away by his earnestness.
+'Best forget them. Best live altogether in and for the Cause.' Yet--she
+wondered--how was she to bring things home to him unless he could be
+made to remember? He was mad one hour and sane the next. How should she
+bridge the gulf and make the mad man cross over to _the other side_?
+
+The Master took her hand in his and held it paternally. 'We needed such
+a disciple as you,' he went on, slightly bending his head over her.
+'Among my followers there is earnestness without understanding. They
+believe in the good time, but they are impatient. They want revolution,
+which is terrific and destroys. I want conviction. There are times when
+a great idea flies abroad like the flame through the stubble. But men's
+minds must first be so prepared that they are ready for it. The world is
+not yet ready for my idea, and I am old, and may die too soon to see the
+sudden rise of the mighty flood, when that doctrine shall suddenly
+cease in all mankind. We need disciples. Above all, we need women. Why
+do women, I wonder, throw themselves away in imitating man, when there
+are a thousand things that they can do better than any man? I want
+women--young, beautiful, faithful. I can find work for hundreds of
+women. Hypatia would be worth to me--to us--far more than he of the
+Golden Mouth. Child--your sweet voice, your sweet face, your sweet
+eyes--I want them. I will take them and use them--expend them--for the
+great Cause. It may be that you will be called upon to become the first
+martyr of the Cause. Hypatia was murdered by a raging mob. You will have
+against you a mob worse than any of Alexandria. You will have a mob
+composed of all those who are rich, and all who want to be rich, and all
+the servile crews at their command. Happy girl! You will be torn to
+pieces for the cause of humanity. Happy girl! I see the roaring,
+shrieking mob. I see your slender figure on the steps--what steps?
+Where? I hear your voice, clear and high. You are preaching to them;
+they close in round you: you disappear--they have dragged you down: they
+trample the life out of you. You are dead--dead--dead--and a name for
+ever. And the Cause has had its martyr.'
+
+It was strange. She who had offered herself as a disciple with deception
+in her heart, thinking only to watch and wait and spy until she could
+see her way plain before her, who knew that she was listening to the
+voice and the dreams of a madman. Yet she was carried away: he made her
+see the mob: she saw herself dragged down and trampled under their
+heels. She shuddered, yet she was exultant: her eyes glowed with a new
+light: she murmured: 'Yes--yes. Do with me what you please. I am your
+disciple, and I will be your martyr, if you please.'
+
+Great and wonderful is the power of Enthusiasm. You see, it matters
+nothing--nothing in the world--what a man has to preach and
+teach--whether he advocates Obi, or telepathy, or rapping, or spirits
+who hide teacups in coat pockets--it matters nothing that there is
+neither common sense nor evidence, nor common reason to back him: if he
+only possess the magnetic power, he will create a following: he will
+have disciples who will follow him to the death. What is it--this power?
+It makes the orator, the poet, the painter, the novelist, the
+dramatist: it makes the leader of men: it made the first King, the first
+Priest, the first Conqueror.
+
+'Come,' said Mr. Edmund Gray; 'the time passes. I must take you to my
+Place.'
+
+They walked out together, Master and Scholar. The man who was mad walked
+carelessly and buoyantly, his coat flying open, one hand in his pocket,
+the other brandishing his walking-stick, his head thrown back, his face
+full of light, and, though his words were sometimes strong, always full
+of kindness. Now the sane man, the man of Lincoln's Inn, wore his coat
+tightly buttoned, walked with a firm precise step, looked straight
+before him, and showed the face of one wholly occupied with his own
+thoughts. There was a man who was mad and a man who was sane: and
+certainly the madman was the more interesting of the two.
+
+'This place,' said the Master, meaning Gray's Inn, 'is entirely filled
+with those who live by and for the defence of Property. They absorb and
+devour a vast portion of it while they defend it. No one, you see,
+defends it unless he is paid for it. Your country, your family, your
+honour--you will defend for nothing; but not another man's Property--no.
+For that you must be paid. Every year it becomes more necessary to
+defend Property; every year the hordes of mercenaries increase. Here
+they are lawyers and lawyers' clerks--a vast multitude. Outside there
+are agents, brokers, insurers, financiers--I know not what--all
+defending Property. They produce nothing, these armies: they take their
+toll: they devour a part of what other people have produced before they
+hand on the residue to the man who says it is his Property.'
+
+'Oh!'--but Elsie did not say this aloud--'if these words could only be
+heard in Lincoln's Inn! If they could be repeated to a certain lawyer.'
+From time to time she looked at him curiously. How if he should suddenly
+return to his senses? What would he think? How should she explain? 'Mr.
+Dering, you have been off your head. You have been talking the most
+blasphemous things about Property. You would never believe that even in
+madness you could say such things.' No; he never would believe
+it--never. He could not believe it. What if his brother, Sir Samuel,
+were to hear those words? Meantime, the Apostle walked along
+unconscious, filled with his great Mission. Oh, heavens! that Mr.
+Dering--Mr. Dering--should believe he had a Mission!
+
+The Master stopped a passing tramcar. 'Let us climb up to the roof,' he
+said. 'There we can talk and breathe and look about us, and sometimes we
+can listen.'
+
+On the seat in front of them sat two young men, almost boys, talking
+together eagerly. Mr. Edmund Gray leaned forward and listened
+shamelessly. 'They are two young atheists,' he said. 'They are cursing
+religion. There is to be a discussion this evening at Battle Arches
+between a Christian and an Atheist, and they are going to assist. They
+should be occupied with the question of the day; they can not, because
+they, too, are paid defenders of Property. They are lawyers' clerks.
+They are poor and they are slaves: all their lives they will be slaves
+and they will be poor. Instead of fighting against slavery and poverty,
+which they know and feel, they fight against the Unknown and the
+Unintelligible. Pity! Pity!'
+
+They passed two great Railway Termini, covering an immense area with
+immense buildings.
+
+'Now,' said the Sage, 'there are millions of Property invested in
+railways. Whenever the railway servants please, they can destroy all
+that Property at a stroke. Perhaps you will live to see this done.'
+
+'But,' said Elsie timidly, 'we must have things carried up and down the
+country.'
+
+'Certainly. We shall go carrying things up and down the country, but not
+in the interests of Property.'
+
+The tram ran past the stations and under broad railway arches, called
+Battle Arches--where the two young atheists got down, eager for the
+fray, always renewed every Sunday afternoon, with the display of much
+intellectual skill and much ignorance. It is a duel from which both
+combatants retire, breathed and flushed, proud of having displayed so
+much smartness, both claiming the victory, surrounded by admiring
+followers, and neither of them killed, neither of them hurt, neither of
+them a bit the worse, and both ready to begin again the following Sunday
+with exactly the same attack and exactly the same defence. There are
+some institutions--Christianity, the Church of England, the House of
+Lords, for instance--which invite and receive perpetual attacks, from
+which they emerge without the least hurt, so far as one can perceive. If
+they were all abolished to-morrow, what would the spouters do?
+
+The car stopped again, and two girls mounted--two work girls of the
+better sort--not, that is to say, the sort which wears an ulster and a
+large hat with a flaming feather in it: working-girl dressed quietly and
+neatly. They ought to have been cheerful and even gay, for they were
+both young, both good-looking, both nicely dressed, and it was Sunday
+afternoon, warm and sunny. Yet they were not cheerful at all. One of
+them was in a rage royal, and the other, her friend, was in a rage
+sympathetic--quite a real rage. They were talking loudly on the kerb
+while they waited for the tram: they carried on their conversation as
+they climbed the stair: they continued it while they chose a seat, and
+before they sat down, without the least regard to those who sat near
+them, whether they overheard or wished not to hear--or anything. They
+were wholly occupied with themselves and their rage and their narrative.
+They neither saw nor heeded anyone else--which is the way that the angry
+woman has.
+
+'So I told her--I up and told her, I did. "Yes," I sez, "you and your
+fifteen hours a day and overtime," I sez--"and your fines--so as to rob
+the poor girls of their money, and your stinkin' little room, as isn't
+fit for two, let alone a dozen--and your flarin' gas," I sez, "to choke
+us and poison us--and your dinners--yah! your dinners," I sez--"fit for
+pigs; and your beast of a husband comin' round with his looks and his
+leers"--"You let my husband alone," she sez--"His looks and his leers,"
+I sez. "Some day the girls'll take him out and drownd him head first, in
+the gutter," I sez. "And a good job too!"'
+
+'You didn't say all that, Liz?' asked the other, admiringly. 'My! What's
+she say to that? "Her beast of a husband"? And "his looks and his
+leers"? Did you really, Liz, and her that jealous?'
+
+'I did. Oh! I let her have it. For once she did have it. Then I took my
+money and I went off.--Never mind what she called me; that don't matter.
+She got the truth for once.'
+
+'What do you make of this, disciple?' asked the Master.
+
+'It seems a quarrel between the girl and her employer.'
+
+'These are the makers of Property. They are not the soldiers who defend
+it. They are those who create it. The girls are employed by the sweater,
+who stands on the lowest rung of the ladder of Property, and steals the
+things as fast as they are made.'
+
+'One of them has been turned out. What will she do? Will she find
+another place?'
+
+'I don't know. What becomes of the young? It is a difficult question. No
+one knows. Some say this and some say that. We know what becomes of the
+old when they are turned out. They die. But as for the young, I know
+not. You are young, and you are a woman. Go among the young women who
+have been turned out and find for yourself--for the world--what does
+become of them.'
+
+They passed an immense churchyard, with an ancient church standing in
+the midst--the churchyard now cleared of its headstones and converted
+into a beautiful garden, after the modern fashion, in which we have
+abandoned the pretence of remembering the dead, and plant flowers and
+turf above their graves for the solace of the living. Why not? Let the
+nameless dead be remembered by the nameless dead. Their virtues, if they
+had any, may live after them in their descendants.
+
+'See,' said Mr. Edmund Gray, moralising. 'Here they lie, those who were
+soldiers of Property and those who were slaves of Property. They are
+mostly the poor of their parish who lie in that garden. No headstones
+mark their grave. They were born: they toiled for others to enjoy: and
+they died. Is this the life that men should most desire?'
+
+'Nay,' said the disciple. 'But there must be the strong and weak--clever
+and dull: there must be inequalities.'
+
+'Yes, inequalities of gifts. One man is stronger, one is sharper, one is
+cleverer than another. Formerly, those gifts were used to make their
+possessor richer and more powerful. The strong man got followers and
+made slaves. The clever man cheated the dull man out of his land and his
+liberty. Henceforth, these gifts will be used for the general good.
+Patience! You shall understand all in good time.'
+
+He stopped the tram and they descended.
+
+Lying east of the Hampstead Road and Camden High Street, and bounded on
+that side by the canal--the great space occupied by the Midland and
+Great Northern Goods Depôt, by gas-works, wharfs, and railway
+arches--there is a network of streets very little known to any but the
+parish clergy. No part of London is less interesting than this district.
+It used to be called Somers Town, but I think that the old name has
+almost died out. It is about a hundred years old, regarded as a
+settlement: it possesses three churches at least, two work-houses, one
+almshouse, and three burial-grounds turned into gardens. It is also
+cheered by the presence of a coal depôt. Many small industries are
+carried on in this quarter: there are many lodging-houses: the streets
+are rather grimy, the houses are rather shabby, the people are rather
+slipshod. They are not criminals: they are, in a way, respectable--that
+is to say, tolerably respectable. It is not a picturesque suburb:
+dulness reigns: it is a dull, a dull, a dismally dull quarter. There are
+children, but they lack mirth: and young girls, but they lack the spring
+of youth: one would say that there was a low standard in everything,
+even in the brightness of dress: the place looks better in winter than
+in summer. To-day, the bright sunshine only made the shabbiness of the
+streets more shabby.
+
+'Is your place here?' asked Elsie.
+
+'Yes; it is here.--You wonder why I came here. Because the people here
+are not all working-people. Some of them are small employers--those of
+whom I spoke--who stand on the lowest rung of the ladder and steal the
+things as fast as they are made, and take toll, and hoard up savings.
+The working-man is generous and open to others, compared with these
+people. I planted my place down in the midst of them. But you shall
+see--you shall see.'
+
+It was like a dream. Elsie walked beside her conductor. Yesterday she
+made the acquaintance of this man for the first time; she had never seen
+him before except in his sane condition; he was a madman--a real
+dangerous madman--stark staring mad; he was taking her she knew not
+where--to some place among strange people: she walked beside him without
+the least fear. She who would have fled before the most harmless
+lunatic; and she was going with him as his disciple.
+
+'George,' she said afterwards, 'I do not know how it happened. I could
+not choose but go with him. I could not choose but to become his
+disciple: he compelled me. I lost my will. I even forgot that he was a
+madman: I gave up my reason and all: I followed him, and I believed all
+that he told me. How did he get that power? Directly I left him, I
+became myself again. I perceived the mad enthusiast. I saw Mr. Dering
+caricatured and proclaiming foolishness. But in his presence I was his
+servant and his slave.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'Here we are,' he said. 'This is my Place. Let us go in.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE HALL OF THE NEW FAITH
+
+
+The Place, as Mr. Edmund Gray modestly called it, was a meek and
+unpretending Structure. The word is used advisedly, because no one could
+call it anything else. Not an Edifice; not a Building--a Structure. It
+turned its gabled front to the street, with a door below and a window
+above. It was of gray brick with a slate roof--a very plain and simple
+Structure. It might have been a Primitive Methodist Chapel--the
+Connexion are fond of such neat and unpretending places: or a room
+belonging to the Salvation Army: or one of those queer lecture halls
+affected by Secularists and generally called the Hall of Science. On the
+doorpost was affixed a small handbill, announcing that every Sunday
+evening at seven o'clock an address would be pronounced by Edmund Gray,
+on the subject of 'Property.' On the same bill, below the line of the
+principal title, were suggestive sub-titles. Thus:
+
+  'PROPERTY AND ITS ORIGIN.'
+  'PROPERTY AND ITS EVILS.'
+  'PROPERTY AND ITS DANGERS.'
+  'PROPERTY AND LIBERTY.'
+  'PROPERTY AND PROGRESS.'
+  'PROPERTY AND ITS DECAY.'
+
+The Master pointed to the Bill. 'Read it,' he said. 'There you have my
+mission clearly announced. No mistake about it. A bold pronouncement,
+which cannot be mistaken. I make war against Property--I am the enemy
+irreconcilable--the enemy to the death--of Property. I am almost alone
+against the world, for my followers are a feeble folk and without power.
+All the interests, all the prejudices, all the powers, all the
+intellect, of the whole world are against me. I stand alone. But I
+fear nothing, because the future is given over to me and to
+mine--yea--though I do not live to see the day of Victory.'
+
+He opened the door, and Elsie entered. She found herself in a room about
+sixty feet long by twenty broad, and lofty--a fine and goodly room. It
+was furnished with a long and narrow table running down the middle, and
+a few benches. Nothing else. The table was laid with a white cloth, and
+provided with plates of ham and beef, cold sausages, hard-boiled eggs,
+cakes, toast, muffins, bread and butter, marmalade, jam, shrimps,
+water-cresses, and teacups. In fact, there was spread out a Tea of
+generous proportions.
+
+The room was half filled with thirty or forty people, mostly young,
+though there were some elderly men. Among them Elsie remarked, without
+surprise, the decayed Barrister of Gray's Inn. Perhaps he was attracted
+as much by the loaves as by the sermon. Three-quarters of them were
+young men. Elsie noticed that they were young men of a curious
+type--their faces keen, their eyes hard, their manner aggressive. They
+belonged to a Church Militant. They longed to be fighting. On the
+appearance of their preacher they flocked about him, shaking hands and
+inquiring after his health. At least, therefore, he had the affection of
+his followers.
+
+'My friends,' said the Prophet, 'I bring you a new Disciple. She comes
+to us from the very stronghold of Property. Her friends'--yet he had
+shown no sign of recognition--'are either those who pillage the
+producer, or those who rob the possessor on pretence of defending him.
+She is at present only a recruit. She comes to listen and to learn. She
+will go home to remember and to meditate. She is a recruit now who will
+be hereafter a Leader.'
+
+The people received her with curiosity. They were not of the higher
+classes, to put it mildly, and they had never had a young lady among
+them before. Two or three girls who were present--girls from the
+dressmaker's workrooms--looked at her frock with envy, and at her bonnet
+and her gloves with a yearning, helpless, heart-sinking admiration. To
+the young men she seemed a goddess, unapproachable. They stood at a
+distance: men of the rank above them would have worshipped. These young
+men only gaped. Such a girl had nothing to do with their lives.
+
+Apparently they had been waiting for the Master, for at the moment a
+stout woman and a girl appeared bearing trays with teapots and jugs of
+hot water, which they placed upon the board. Mr. Edmund Gray took the
+chair. Elsie began to feel like Alice in Wonderland. She came to see a
+'Place': she expected to hear a sermon or a lecture; and behold a Tea!
+
+'Sit beside me,' said the Master. 'We begin our evening on Sunday with a
+simple feast, which I provide. It is a sign of brotherhood. Every Sunday
+we begin with this renewal of fraternity. Those who break bread together
+are brothers and sisters. In the good time to come every meal shall be
+in common, and every evening meal shall be a Feast. Eat and drink with
+us, my daughter. So you will understand that you belong to a
+Brotherhood.'
+
+'Try some shrimps, Miss,' said her neighbour on the right, an elderly
+man, who was a builder's foreman.
+
+History does not concern itself with what Elsie took. She found the meal
+very much to the purpose after a long afternoon of talk, argument, and
+emotion. She was young and she was hungry. The tea was good: the things
+to eat were good: the cake and toast were admirable. Elsie ate and drank
+and wondered what was coming next.
+
+After a little, she began to look round her and to watch the company.
+There were now, she counted, forty-five of them--forty-five disciples of
+Mr. Edmund Gray. What had he to teach them? The destruction of Property.
+Out of the four millions of London, forty-five were found who wanted to
+destroy Property--only forty-five. But perhaps all who advocated that
+step were not present. Her ancient prejudices whispered that this was a
+reassuring fact, considering that the Preacher had preached his doctrine
+for nine long years. Only forty-five. Next to her the foreman began to
+talk to her of Fourier and Owen, and a dozen half-forgotten leaders in
+the old experiments. He had been a Chartist in the Forties: he was a
+Socialist in these, the Nineties: but he confessed that before any real
+reform was attempted, Property must first be destroyed.
+
+'It's the selfishness,' he whispered earnestly, 'that's got to be torn
+out by the roots. Take that away, and there's a chance for the world. It
+never can be taken away till a man finds that he can't work no longer
+for himself, and that he must work for all, whether he likes it or lumps
+it. Don't give him the choice nor the chance, I say. Take away Property,
+and there's neither choice nor chance left. You hear Mr. Gray upon
+that. Oh, he's powerful! What do they say? Naked we came into the world.
+Naked we enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. There's a wonderful lot of
+fine things hangin' to that. You must wait till you hear Mr. Gray upon
+that theme.--Kingdom of Heaven! To hear the parsons talk, it's away
+above the clouds. Not so. It's here--close beside us--on this earth. All
+we've got to do is to put out our hands and reach it.'
+
+'You may put out your hands as much as you like,' said one of the
+younger men; 'but you won't reach it, all the same. Property stands
+between.'
+
+'At our place,' said a girl sitting opposite--a girl of intelligent
+face, pale and thin,--'we work from eight till eight, and sometimes
+longer, for twelve shillings a week. I know what things cost and what
+they sell for. I could produce enough to keep me--ah! a good deal better
+than I live now--if I could sell what I made myself--for four hours'
+work a day. So I work eight hours a day, not counting the dinner hour,
+just to keep the boss and to make Property for him. My Property it
+is--well--I know--in here, we say, _our_ Property: outside we say, _my_
+Property. Where's your Kingdom of Heaven, then, if you reach out your
+hand ever so far, so long as I've got to work to make somebody else
+rich? Let's destroy Property, and then we shall see.'
+
+A desire--a foolish concealed desire, born of prejudice, seized Elsie to
+argue. For she perceived in the girl's reasoning certain confusions and
+intricacies. But she had the courage to suppress the inclination: she
+refrained. She was a disciple. She must listen.
+
+'I am a slave, like all the rest of us,' another young man remarked
+cheerfully. 'My Master owns me. He can sell me if he likes, only he
+calls it by another name; he can't take a whip and lash me, though he'd
+like to, because, if he did, I'd break every bone in his body for him,
+but he can cut down the work and the money. I do editing and reporting
+for a local paper. Thirty shillings a week. The proprietor makes ten
+pounds a week out of it. And I'm not allowed to tell the truth for fear
+of advertisers.' He added a few words not commonly heard in a place that
+looks like a chapel on a Sunday evening.
+
+Elsie observed that their faces showed two variations of
+expression--only two. The majority of the company had the eyes of the
+dreamer, the theorist, the enthusiast. They are soft eyes, and in repose
+are heavy, and they look through stone walls into space, far away--space
+where their dreams are realised and men and women live according to
+their theories. In moments of enthusiasm and passion they become flaming
+fires. These eyes belonged to most of those present. The rest--the
+minority--were those who are angry and restless and eager for the
+practical application of the doctrine. These want revolution: they are
+impatient: they feel for themselves the injustices and impressions which
+enthusiasts feel for others: these are always resentful: the others are
+always hopeful: these want to convert the world at once with bludgeon
+and with gun: the others are certain that before long the world will be
+converted by reason. The one despairs of anything but force: the other
+will have no force: the one hates his enemy: he would kill him if he
+could: he has no words too bad for him: the enthusiast, on the other
+hand, regards his enemy with pity, and would at any moment welcome him,
+forgive him, and--well--invite him to a Fraternal Tea if he would only
+desert his ranks and come over. And these are the two divisions in every
+party, and such is the nature of man that there must always be these two
+divisions.
+
+The Fraternal Tea finished, the company cleared the tables, everybody
+lending a hand, perhaps as another sign or pledge of fraternity. It was
+then nearly seven o'clock, the hour appointed for the address. The door
+was thrown wide open for the admission of the world; but there was no
+sign that the world took the least interest in the subject of Property.
+No one came at all. Elsie learned afterwards that the world outside the
+Hall had long since grown tired of the subject on which Mr. Gray had
+been preaching for nine years. Those who came to the Tea were the inner
+circle of believers or disciples, a small but faithful company, to whose
+members there was rarely any addition.
+
+At seven Mr. Edmund Gray rose to commence his address, standing at the
+head of the table, so that it was like an after-dinner speech. Outside,
+the sun was hot and bright and the air clear. Within the Hall, there
+were the mingled odours and steams of long-protracted and hearty
+Fraternal Tea: the air was heavy and the room dark. When the Master
+began to speak, a young man--one of the ardent and wrathful kind--drew
+out a note-book and took everything down: all listened with respect,
+some with rapt interest. Some nodded--some groaned--some said 'Hear'
+softly--to encourage the preacher and to show their adhesion to
+principle.
+
+Elsie sat at the right hand of the speaker. His discourses moved her
+much less in this public place than in his chambers. The persuasive
+voice was there, but it did not persuade her--moreover, she could not
+meet his eyes. Their magnetism failed to touch her. So much the better,
+because she could listen with cold judgment and watch the people.
+
+'My friends,' he began, 'my brothers and my sisters--we are all long
+since agreed that the root of all evil, the first form of disease, the
+first fatal step that was leading to so many other mischiefs, was the
+beginning of Property. We have proved that so often--we are all so
+entirely agreed upon this vital principle, that we seldom, and only on
+rare occasions, find it necessary to do more than assume its truth. That
+occasion, however, is the present, when we have among us one who comes
+as a stranger, yet a disciple: one who has a mind open to the influence
+of reason: one who is anxious to clear herself of the prejudices and
+absurdities in which she has been from infancy brought up. Let us,
+therefore, briefly, for her instruction and for the strengthening of our
+own faith, point out some of the arguments which support this position.
+It is to us an axiom. To the world it still requires proof. And the
+world refuses to accept the proof, because it is given over to the Chase
+of the Abominable Thing.'
+
+He proceeded to parade the reasons which made his School regard Property
+as the root of all evil. The line which lie pursued was not new: many
+men have pointed out before Mr. Edmund Gray the selfishness of mankind
+as illustrated by the universal game of Grab: others, with equal force,
+have shown that the protection of Things causes an immense expenditure
+and a great shrinkage in Things: others have shown that it is the
+continual efforts of men to get without working the Things for which
+others have worked, that fill our jails and keep up an army of police.
+
+'We start with a false principle,' the Master went on, 'which has ruined
+the world and still keeps it down. If there are to be rich men, they
+must become rich at the expense of the rest: they must be few and the
+poor must be many. Therefore, the protection of Property is the robbery
+of the poor by law. We all know that: in this place we have agreed, so
+far a thousand times: the rich can only become rich by robbing the poor:
+they rob their land: they rob their work: they rob their whole
+lives--and they are permitted and encouraged by the Law. Shall we, then,
+change the Law? No: it would be a work too vast. Shall we change the
+minds of men? Not by reason: it is impossible by any argument so long as
+by law and custom they can still rob the producer of his work. The only
+way is to destroy all Property. When men can no longer by any kind of
+thought get richer than their neighbours, then they will cease to think
+for themselves, and think for the whole community. You will say--some
+one may object--that some are not the same in strength of mind or of
+body: there will be many, then, who will refuse to work at all, and
+become burdens on the community. We have thought of that objection. At
+first, there would be many such; but not for long. Because we should
+kill them. Yes, my friends,' he added with a smile of the sweetest
+benevolence. 'For the good of the community it will be necessary,
+without any sentimental considerations, to kill all those who refuse to
+work, all those who shirk their work, all those who persistently do
+scamped and bad work. They must die. So the commonwealth shall contain
+none but those who are vigorous, loyal, and true. For the
+rest--Death--if it means the death of a million who were once
+rich--Death is the only escape from the difficulty which is so often
+objected.
+
+'It has been asked again how we differ from the Socialists. In this. We
+would begin with no theories, no constitution, no code. Only let every
+man give all his strength, all his heart, all his mind, to the good of
+the commonwealth, without the least power of enriching himself, saving
+money--of course there would be no money--without the chance of getting
+better food and better clothes than the rest--and we may safely leave
+the world to take care of itself. Why--my brothers--why--my
+sisters--should we poor purblind creatures, unable to comprehend more
+than a glimpse of that glorious future which awaits the world when
+Property shall be destroyed--why--I say--should we dare to lay down
+schemes and invent systems for that glorified humanity? Let us leave
+them to themselves. They will be as far above us, my brothers, as we are
+already above the holders and the defenders of Property.'
+
+Elsie looked at the little gathering--five-and-forty--with a little
+smile. They were then already far above the holders and the defenders of
+Property, and again she thought, 'What if these words were heard in
+Lincoln's Inn?'
+
+'How, then, can Property be destroyed?'
+
+At this practical question every one sat upright, coughed, and looked
+interested. Their Preacher had often enough declaimed upon the evils of
+Property. He seldom spoke of a practical way. Perhaps the time had come.
+
+'There are, my friends, several ways. They are already beginning to be
+understood and to be worked. The Irish and the politicians who wanted
+the Irish vote have shown the world how to destroy property in land.
+Believe me, that example will be followed. It was an evil day for the
+holders of Property when the Government interfered between the landlord
+and his tenant. That example will bear fruit elsewhere. We shall see
+everywhere the owners of the land turned out and their places taken by
+those who work the land. The next step is from land to houses. Why not
+with houses as with land? Since a beginning has been made, it must be
+carried on. But there is other property besides lands and houses. There
+are companies with shares, railways, and so forth. We have only begun to
+see what united labour can effect--since union of labour is, in fact,
+not yet begun. When it is fairly started it will pay small respect to
+shareholders and to dividends. When wages are paid, there will be
+perhaps no dividend left at all. In a single year--nay, a single
+week--the whole capital invested in all the companies will lose its
+value: it will be so much waste-paper. My friends, we need not stir hand
+or foot to bring about this end: it will be done for us by the
+working-man, and by those who follow the example of Ireland. They will
+do it for their own selfish ends first--but--Property once destroyed, we
+shall never again allow it to be created.
+
+'Oh!'--he warmed with his subject, his voice grew more musical, his face
+glowed--'I see a splendid--a noble sight. I see the great houses in the
+country fallen to ruin and decay: their contents are stored in museums:
+the great palaces of the towns are pulled down: the towns themselves are
+decayed and shrunk: there is no Property: there is no one working for
+himself: the man of science works his laboratory for the community--but
+he has the honour of his discoveries: the medical man pursues his work
+with no thought of getting rich: there is plenty to go the round of
+everything--oh! plenty of the best. We can have what we like, do what we
+like, dress as we like, teach what we please--provided we work for the
+State. If we refuse--Death! If we give bad work--Death! It is the only
+Law. We shall have no lawyers--no power--no magistrates. Oh! great and
+glorious time--you shall see it, you who are young--yes, you shall see
+it--while I--I--I--who have dreamed of the time so long--I shall lie low
+in the grave. What matter--so the time come and so the world rises free
+at last to follow out the destiny of a new and glorified humanity!'
+
+He sat down and laid his head upon his hand, as one in prayer. They
+remained in silence till he raised his head. Then the young man who had
+called attention to his slavery spoke.
+
+'There is perhaps another way,' he said, 'which might do the job for us.
+Suppose the chemists were to find out how to produce food--food of any
+kind--artificially--just as good and as nourishing as if it was
+butcher-meat or bread. Suppose it could be produced dirt cheap--most
+chemists' things cost nothing. Then no one would need to work: because
+he'd have his food found for him. If no one would need to work, no one
+could get rich any more. And if no one wanted to buy anything, nobody
+could sell. Then riches wouldn't count, and there you are. Let's get a
+chemist to take the thing up.'
+
+The conversation that followed struck out new ideas. Presently it
+flagged, and one by one the people stole away.
+
+The Master and the Disciple returned in the tram as far as Gray's Inn.
+
+The Master fell into profound silence a quarter of an hour before the
+end of the journey. When they got down, Elsie observed first, that he
+buttoned his coat; next, that he put on gloves; thirdly, that he pulled
+his hat forwards: and lastly, that he ignored her presence. He drew
+himself erect, and walked away with firm and precise step in the
+direction of Bedford Row, which is on the other side of Gray's Inn. He
+was once more Mr. Edward Dering.
+
+'I wonder,' said Elsie, 'how much, to-morrow, he will recollect?'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+CAN HE REMEMBER?
+
+
+It was past ten o'clock that Sunday evening when Elsie arrived home.
+Athelstan and George were waiting up for her. 'Again the mysterious
+appointment?' asked the former. 'Are we to know anything yet?'--Elsie
+shook her head.--'Not to-night? Very good. You look tired, Elsie.'
+
+'I am tired, thank you. And--and I think I would rather not talk
+to-night. I will go to my own room.--Have patience, both of you, for a
+day or two longer. Believe me, everything is going well. The only reason
+why I cannot tell you what I have been doing is that it is so
+strange--so wonderful--that I have not been able even to shape it into
+words in my own mind.--What is to-day? The 1st of August.'
+
+'Only eleven days yet--eleven long days,' said George, 'but also eleven
+short days.'
+
+'I do not forget. Well--you may both of you sit down--go about your
+business--you need do nothing more. As for me, I think you will have to
+get on without me every evening this week. But be quite easy. The thing
+is done.' And with that, nodding and laughing, she ran out of the room.
+
+'It is done,' repeated George. 'The thing is done. Which thing?'
+
+'It is done,' repeated Athelstan. 'What is done? How was it done? Who
+did it? When was it done?'
+
+'Since Elsie says it is done, I am bound to accept her assurance.
+Presumably, she has caught old Checkley at South Square, in the very
+act. Never mind; I am quite sure that Elsie knows what she says.'
+
+In her own retreat Elsie sat down to consider.
+
+If you think of it, she had a good deal to consider. She had, in fact, a
+tremendous weapon, an eighty-ton Woolwich, in her possession; a thing
+which had to be handled so that when it was fired it should not produce
+a general massacre. All those who had maligned and spoken and thought
+evil of her brother and her lover should, she thought, be laid
+prostrate by the mere puff and whiff of the discharge. Checkley should
+fall backwards, and raise a bump at the back of his head as big as an
+egg. Sir Samuel and Hilda should be tumbled down in the most ignominious
+fashion, just as if they had no money at all. And her mother should be
+forced to cry out that she had been wrong and hasty.
+
+She held in her own hands nothing less than the complete demolition of
+all this erection of suspicion and malignity. Nothing less. She could
+restore to her brother that which he had never lost, save in the eyes of
+his own people, who should have been the most jealous to preserve it. No
+greater service could be rendered to him. And she could clear from her
+lover's name whatever shreds and mists had been gathered round it by the
+industrious breath of Checkley--that humble Cloud Compeller. You see, we
+all have this much of Zeus in us, even in the compelling of Clouds:
+every man by the exercise of a little malignity, a little insinuation
+and a few falsehoods, can raise quite a considerable mist about the head
+or the name or the figure or the reputation of anyone. Women--some
+women, that is--are constantly engaged in this occupation; and after
+they have been at their work, it is sometimes hard for the brightest
+sunshine to melt those mists away.
+
+To be able to clear away clouds is a great thing. Besides this, Elsie
+had found out what the rest had failed to find out--and by the simplest
+method. She had learned from the only person who knew at what hour she
+should be most likely to find the mysterious Edmund Gray, and she had
+then waited on the stairs until he came. No method more direct--yet
+nobody thought of it except herself. She had done it. As the result,
+there was no longer any mystery. The man who forged the first cheque:
+the man who wrote those letters and conducted their transfer: was, as
+they all thought at first, Edmund Gray. No other. And Edmund Gray was
+Edward Dering, one and the same person--and Edward Dering was a Madman,
+and this discovery it was which so profoundly impressed her. There were
+no confederates: there was no one wanted to intercept the post: no one
+had tampered with the safe: the Chief himself had received the letters
+and conducted the correspondence alternately as Edmund Gray himself, or
+Edmund Gray acting unconsciously for Edward Dering.
+
+Perfectly impossible-- Perfectly simple-- Perfectly intelligible. As for
+the impossibility, a fact may remain when its impossibility is
+established. Elsie was not a psychologist or a student of the brain. She
+knew nothing about mental maladies. She only said after what she had
+seen and heard: 'The man is mad.'
+
+Then she thought how she should best act. To establish the identity of
+Mr. Dering and Edmund Gray must be done. It was the one thing necessary.
+Very well. That could easily be done, and in a simple way. She had only
+to march into his office at the head of a small band of witnesses and
+say: 'You wanted us to find out Edmund Gray! I have found him. And thou
+art the man!'
+
+He would deny it. He certainly knew nothing about it. Then she would
+call upon her witnesses. First, Athelstan's commissionaire, who declared
+that he should remember, even after eight years or eighty years, the
+gentleman who sent him to cash that cheque. 'Who is this man,
+commissionaire?'
+
+'That is Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+Next the landlord of his chambers. 'Who is this man?'
+
+'That is Mr. Edmund Gray, my tenant for nine years.'
+
+Then she would call the eminent Barrister, Mr. Langhorne. 'Do you know
+this man?'
+
+'He is my neighbour, Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+And Freddy Carstone the Coach.
+
+'He is my neighbour, Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+And the laundress, and she would say: 'I have done for the gentleman for
+nine years. He's a very good gentleman, and generous--and his name is
+Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+And the people from the Hall--and they would make answer, with one
+consent: 'That is Mr. Edmund Gray, our preacher and our teacher.'
+
+And she herself would give her testimony: 'I have sat with you in your
+Chambers. I have heard you lecture in your Hall, surrounded by these
+good people, and you are Edmund Gray.'
+
+The thing was quite easy to do. She could bring forward all this
+evidence at once, and it would be unanswerable and convincing even to
+Sir Samuel.
+
+Except for one thing which made it difficult.
+
+The discovery would be a most dreadful--a most terrible--revelation to
+one who believed himself to be the most respectable solicitor in the
+whole of London; the most trustworthy; the clearest in mind; the keenest
+in vision; the coldest in judgment. He would learn without the least
+previous suspicion or preparation, or any softening of the blow, that
+for many years he had been---- What? Is there any other word--any kinder
+word--any word less terrifying or less humiliating by which the news
+could be conveyed to him that he had been Mad--Mad--Mad? Heavens! what a
+word it is! How terrible to look at with its three little letters which
+mean so much! All the words that mean much are monosyllables:
+God--Love--Joy--Hate--Fear--Glad--Sad--Mad--Bad--Hell--Home--Wife--
+Child--House--Song--Feast--Wine--Kiss--everything--they are the oldest
+words, you see; they have been used from time immemorial by prehistoric
+man as well as by ourselves.
+
+Mr. Dering had to be told that he was Mad. Somehow or other, he must be
+told that. It seemed at first the only way out of the difficulty. How
+could this girl communicate the dreadful news to her guardian, who had
+always been to her considerate, and even affectionate? She shrank from
+the task. Then she thought she would hand it over to her brother
+Athelstan. But he was far more concerned about clearing up the hateful
+business than about softening the blow for Mr. Dering. Or of
+communicating it to George. What should she do? Mr. Dering was mad. Not
+mad all the time, but mad now and then, sometimes every day, sometimes
+with intervals. This kind of madness, I believe, takes many forms--a
+fact which should make the strongest men tremble. Sometimes it lasts a
+long time before it is found out. Sometimes even it is never found out
+at all. Solicitors and doctors tell queer stories about it. For
+instance, that story--quite a common story--of an old gentleman of
+irreproachable reputation, a speaker and leader in religious circles, a
+man enormously respected by all classes, concerning whom not his
+bitterest enemy had a word of scandal--yet, after his death, things
+deplorable, things incredible, things to be suppressed at any cost, were
+brought to the knowledge of his lawyers. At certain times he went mad,
+you see. Then he forgot who he was: he forgot his reputation, his place
+in the world, and the awful penalties of being found out: he went down:
+he lived among people of the baser sort, and became an inferior man with
+another name, and died without ever knowing his own dreadful record.
+Another of whom I have heard was mad for fifteen years, yet the Chief of
+a great House, who all the time conducted the business with great
+ability. He was found out at last because he began to buy things. Once
+he sent home six grand pianos: another time he bought all the cricket
+bats that were in stock in a certain shop; and another time he bought
+all the hats that fitted him at all the hatters' shops within a circle
+whose centre was Piccadilly Circus and the radius a mile long. After
+this they gave him a cheerful companion, who took walks abroad with him,
+and he retired from active business.
+
+Some philosophers maintain that we are all gone mad on certain points.
+In that case, if one does not know it or suspect it, and if our friends
+neither know nor suspect it, what does it matter? There are also, we all
+know, points on which some of us are mad, and everybody knows it. There
+is the man who believes that he is a great poet, and publishes volume
+after volume, all at his own expense, to prove it: there is the man--but
+he ought to be taken away and put on a treadmill--who writes letters to
+the papers on every conceivable subject with the day before yesterday's
+wisdom: there is the man who thinks he can paint--we all know plenty of
+men mad like unto these, and we are for the most part willing to
+tolerate them. Considerations, however, on the universality of the
+complaint fail to bring consolation to any except those who have it not.
+In the same way, nobody who dies of any disease is comforted with the
+thought of the rarity or the frequency of that disease; its interesting
+character has no charm for him. Nor is the man on his way to be hanged
+consoled by the reminder that thousands have trodden that flowery way
+before him. To Mr. Dering, proud of his own intellect, self-sufficient
+and strong, the discovery of these things would certainly bring
+humiliation intolerable, perhaps--even--shame unto Death itself.
+How--oh! how could things be managed so as to spare him this pain?
+
+Elsie's difficulties grew greater the more she pondered over them. It
+was past midnight when she closed the volume of thought and her eyes at
+the same moment.
+
+In the morning, Athelstan kissed her gravely.
+
+'Do you remember what you said last night, Elsie? You said that we could
+rest at peace because the thing was done.'
+
+'Well, Athelstan, the words could only have one meaning, could they? I
+mean, if you want me to be more explicit, that the thing is actually
+done. My dear brother, I know all about it now. I know who signed that
+first cheque--who sent the commissionaire to the Bank--who received the
+notes--who placed them in the safe--who wrote about the transfers--who
+received the letters and carried on the whole business. I can place my
+hand upon him to-day if necessary.'
+
+'Without doubt? With proofs, ample proofs?'
+
+'Without the least doubt--with a cloud of witnesses. My dear brother, do
+not doubt me. I have done it. Yet--for a reason--to spare one most
+deeply concerned--for the pity of it--if you knew--give me a few days--a
+week, perhaps, to find a way if I can. If I cannot, then the cruel truth
+must be told bluntly, whatever happens.'
+
+'Remember all the mischief the old villain has done.'
+
+'The old villain? Oh! you mean Checkley?'
+
+'Of course; whom should I mean?'
+
+'Nobody--nothing. Brother, if you bid me speak to-day, I will speak. No
+one has a better right to command. But if this--this person--were to die
+to-day, my proofs are so ample that there could be no doubt possible.
+Yes--even my mother--it is dreadful to say it--but she is so hard and so
+obstinate--even my mother would acknowledge that there is no doubt
+possible.'
+
+Athelstan stooped and kissed her. 'Order it exactly as you please, my
+child. If I have waited eight long years, I can wait another week.
+Another week. Then I shall at last be able to speak of my people at
+home. I shall go back to California with belongings like other men. I
+shall be able to make friends; I can even, if it comes in my way, make
+love, Elsie. Do you think you understand quite what this means to me?'
+
+He left her presently to go about his work.
+
+In the corner of the room stood her easel with the portrait, the fancy
+portrait, of Mr. Dering the Benevolent--Mr. Dering the Optimist--Mr.
+Dering as he might be with the same features and the least little change
+in their habitual setting.
+
+Elsie stood before this picture, looking at it curiously.
+
+'Yes,' she murmured, 'you are a dear, tender-hearted, kindly,
+benevolent, simple old Thing. You believe in human nature: you think
+that everybody is longing for the Kingdom of Heaven. You think that
+everybody would be comfortable in it: that everybody longs for honesty.
+Before I altered you and improved your face, you were Justice without
+mercy: you were Law without leniency: you were Experience which knows
+that all men are wicked by choice when they get the chance: you had no
+soft place anywhere: you held that Society exists only for the
+preservation of Property. Oh! you are so much more lovable now, if you
+would only think so--if you only knew. You believe in men and women:
+that is a wonderful advance--and you have done well to change your old
+name to your new name. I think I should like you always to be Edmund
+Gray. But how am I to tell you? How, in the name of wonder, am I to tell
+you that you are Edmund Gray? First of all, I must see you-- I must
+break the thing gently-- I must force you somehow to recollect, as soon
+as possible. I must make you somehow understand what has happened.'
+
+She had promised to meet Mr. Edmund Gray at his Chambers that evening at
+five. He showed his confidence in her by giving her a latch-key, so that
+she might let herself in if he happened not to be in the Chambers when
+she called, at five. She would try, then, to bring him back to himself.
+She pictured his amazement--his shame--at finding himself in strange
+rooms under another name, preaching wild doctrines. It would be too much
+for him. Better go to Mr. Dering, the real Mr. Dering, and try to move
+him in his own office, to recollect what had happened. Because, you see,
+Elsie, unacquainted with these obscure forms of brain disease, imagined
+that she might by artful question and suggestion clear that clouded
+memory, and show the lawyer his double figuring as a Socialist.
+
+She waited till the afternoon. She arrived at New Square about three,
+two hours before her engagement at Gray's Inn.
+
+Mr. Dering received her with his usual kindness. He was austerely
+benignant.
+
+'I tried to see you last night,' she said, untruthfully, because the
+words conveyed the impression that she had called upon him.
+
+'No--no. I was-- I suppose I was out. I went out----' His face clouded,
+and he stopped.
+
+'Yes--you were saying, Mr. Dering, that you went out.'
+
+'Last night was Sunday, wasn't it? Yes; I went out.--Where did I go?' He
+drummed the table with his fingers irritably. 'Where did I go?
+Where?--What does it matter?'
+
+'Nothing at all. Only it is strange that you should not remember.'
+
+'I told you once before, Elsie,' he said, 'I suffer--I labour--under
+curious fits of forgetfulness. Now, at this moment, I--it really is
+absurd--I cannot remember where I was last night. I am an old man. It is
+the privilege of age to forget yesterday, and to remember fifty years
+ago.'
+
+'I was talking last night to an old gentleman who said much the same. He
+has Chambers where he goes to write: he has a Lecture Hall--where he
+preaches to the people----'
+
+Mr. Dering looked at her in mild surprise. What did she mean? Elsie
+coloured.
+
+'Of course,' she said, 'this has nothing to do with you.'
+
+'How I spent the evening I know very well,' Mr. Dering went on. 'Yet I
+forget. That is the trouble with me. My housekeeper will not give me
+dinner on Sunday evening, and on that day I go to my Club. I get there
+about five or six: I read the magazines till seven. Sometimes I drop off
+to sleep--we old fellows will drop off, you know--about seven I have
+dinner. After dinner I take my coffee, and read or talk if there is any
+one I know. About nine I walk home. That has been my custom for many
+years. Therefore, that is how I spent the evening of yesterday.--But,
+you see, I cannot remember it. Breakfast I remember, and the Church
+service afterwards. Luncheon I remember: getting home at ten I remember.
+But the interval between I cannot remember.'
+
+'Do you forget other things? Do you remember Saturday afternoon, for
+instance?'
+
+'Yes--perfectly. I left the office about five. I walked straight
+home.--No--no--that isn't right. It was nearly eight when I got home. I
+remember. The dinner was spoiled.--No--I did not go straight home.'
+
+'Perhaps you stayed here till past seven?'
+
+'No--no. I remember looking at the clock as I put on my hat. It was
+half-past five when I went out-- Five. What did I do between half-past
+five o'clock and eight? I forget. You see, my trouble, Elsie--I forget.
+Perhaps I went to the Club: perhaps I strolled about: perhaps I came
+back here. There are three hours to account for--and I have forgotten
+them all.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+WILL HE REMEMBER?
+
+
+Should she tell him? She could not. The way must somehow be prepared.
+No--she could not tell him just so--in cold blood. How would he look if
+she were to begin: 'I have found out the mystery. You are Edmund Gray.
+During the hours that you cannot recall, you are playing the part of a
+Socialist teacher and leader: you are actively propagating the doctrines
+that you hold to be dangerous and misleading'? What would he say? What
+would he feel when he realised the truth?
+
+On the table lay a copy of the _Times_--a fortnight-old copy--open at
+the place where there was a certain letter from a certain Edmund Gray.
+Elsie pointed to it. Mr. Dering sighed. 'Again,' he said, 'they
+persecute me. Now it is a letter addressed to Edmund Gray, lying on my
+table: now it is the bill of a pernicious lecture by Edmund Gray: to-day
+it is this paper with the letter that appeared a week or two ago. Who
+brought it here? Checkley says he didn't. Who put it on my table?'
+
+Elsie made no reply. It was useless to test her former theory of the boy
+under the table.
+
+'As for the man who wrote this letter,' Mr. Dering went on, 'he bears
+the name of our forger and writes from the same address. Yet he is not
+the man. Of that I am convinced. This man is a fool because he believes
+in the honesty of mankind: he is a generous fool, because he believes
+that people would rather be good than bad. Nonsense! They would rather
+be stealing from each other's plates, like the monkeys, than dividing
+openly. He has what they call a good heart--that is, he is a soft
+creature--and he is full of pity for the poor. Now, in my young days, I
+was taught--what after-experience has only brought more home to
+me--that the poor are poor in consequence of their vices. We used to say
+to them: "Go away--practise thrift. Be sober--work hard. By exercising
+these virtues we rose out of your ranks. By continuing to exercise them
+we remain on these levels. Go away. There is no remedy for disease
+contracted by vice. Go away and suffer." That's what we said formerly.
+What they say now is: "Victims of greed! You are filled with every
+virtue possible to humanity. You are down-trodden by the Capitalist. You
+are oppressed. Make and produce for others to enjoy. We will change all
+this. We will put the fruits--the harvest--of your labour in your own
+hands, and you shall show the world your justice, your noble
+disinterestedness, your generosity, your love of the common weal."
+That's the new gospel, Elsie, and I prefer the old.'
+
+Strange that a man should at one time hold and preach with so much
+fervour and earnestness the very creed which at another time he
+denounced as fiercely!
+
+'This man, and such as he,' continued Mr. Dering, lifted out of his
+anxieties by that subject, 'would destroy Property in order to make the
+workman rich. Wonderful doctrine! He would advance the world by
+destroying the only true incentive and stimulant for work, invention,
+civilisation, association, and every good and useful thing. He would
+destroy Property. And then? Can he not see what would follow? Why, these
+people do not know the very alphabet of the thing. By Property they mean
+the possession by individuals of land or money. But that is only a part
+of Property. Take that away, and the individual remains. And he has
+got--what you cannot take away--the rest of his Property, by which he
+will speedily repair the temporary loss. Consider, child, if you can,
+what does a man possess? He has, I say, Property--all his own--which
+cannot be taken from him or shared with another--Property in his brain,
+his trade, his wit, his craft, his art, his skill, his invention, his
+enterprise, his quickness to grip an opportunity. Again, he has his wife
+and children--sometimes a very valuable Property: he has, besides, his
+memories, his knowledge, his experience, his thoughts, his hopes, his
+projects, and intentions: he has his past and he has his future: he has,
+or thinks he has, his inheritance in the Kingdom of Heaven. Take away
+all these things bit by bit, what is left? Nothing. Not even the shadow
+of a man. Not even a naked figure. This, Elsie, is Property. These
+things separate the individual from the mass, and each man from his
+neighbour. A shallow fanatic, like this Edmund Gray, thinks that wealth
+is the whole of Property. Why, I say, it is only a part of Property: it
+is the external and visible side of certain forms of Property. Take all
+the wealth away to-day--even if you make ten thousand laws, the same
+qualities--the same forms of Property--the same lack of those qualities
+will produce like results to-morrow.--Do you now understand, child, what
+is meant by Property? It is everything which makes humanity. Wealth is
+only the symbol or proof of society so organised that all these
+qualities--the whole Property of a man, can be exercised freely and
+without injustice.'
+
+'I see,' said Elsie, gazing with wonder undisguised. Was this last
+night's Prophet? Could the same brain hold two such diverse views'?
+
+'You are surprised, child. That is because you have never taken or
+understood this larger view of Property. It is new to you. Confess,
+however, that it lends sacredness to things which we are becoming
+accustomed to have derided. Believe me, it is not without reason that
+some of us venerate the laws which have been slowly, very slowly,
+framed: and the forms which have been slowly, very slowly, framed: as
+experience has taught us wisdom for the protection of man--working man,
+not loafing, lazy man. It is wise and right of us to maintain all those
+institutions which encourage the best among us to work and invent and
+distribute. By these forms alone is industry protected and enterprise
+encouraged. Then such as this Edmund Gray'--he laid his hand again upon
+the letter--'will tell you that Property--Property--causes certain
+crimes--ergo, Property must be destroyed. Everything desirable causes
+its own peculiar class of crime. Consider the universal passion of Love.
+It daily causes crimes innumerable. Yet no one has yet proposed the
+abolition of Love--eh?'
+
+'I believe not,' Elsie replied, smiling. 'I hope no one will--yet.'
+
+'No. But the desire for Property, which is equally universal--which is
+the most potent factor in the cause of Law and Order--they desire and
+propose to destroy. I have shown you that it is impossible. Let the
+companies pay no dividends, let all go to the working men: let the
+lands pay no rent: the houses no rent: let the merchants' capital yield
+no profit: to-morrow the clever man will be to the front again, using
+for his own purposes the dull and the stupid and the lazy. That is my
+opinion.--Forgive this sermon, Elsie. You started me on the subject. It
+is one on which I have felt very strongly for a long time. In fact, the
+more I think upon it the more I am convinced that the most important
+thing in any social system is the protection of the individual--personal
+liberty: freedom of contract: right to enjoy in safety what his ability,
+his enterprise, and his dexterity may gain for him.'
+
+Elsie made no reply for a moment. The conversation had taken an
+unexpected turn. The vehemence of the upholder of Property overwhelmed
+her as much as the earnestness of its destroyer. Besides, what chance
+has a girl of one-and-twenty on a subject of which she knows nothing
+with a man who has thought upon it for fifty years? Besides, she was
+thinking all the time of the other man. And now there was no doubt--none
+whatever--that Mr. Dering knew nothing of Mr. Edmund Gray--nothing at
+all. He knew nothing and suspected nothing of the truth. And which
+should she believe? The man who was filled with pity for the poor and
+saw nothing but their sufferings, or the man who was full of sympathy
+with the rich, and saw in the poor nothing but their vices? Are all men
+who work oppressed? Or are there no oppressed at all, but only some lazy
+and stupid and some clever?
+
+'Tell me more another time,' she said, with a sigh. 'Come back to the
+case--the robbery. Is anything discovered yet?'
+
+'I have heard nothing. George refuses to go on with the case out of some
+scruple because----'
+
+'Oh! I know the cause. Very cruel things have been said about him. Do
+you not intend to stand by your own partner, Mr. Dering?'
+
+'To stand by him? Why, what can I do?'
+
+'You know what has been said of him--what is said of him--why I have had
+to leave home----'
+
+'I know what is said, certainly. It matters nothing what is said. The
+only important thing is to find out--and that they cannot do.'
+
+'They want to connect Edmund Gray with the forgeries, and they are
+trying the wrong way. Checkley is not the connecting link--nor is
+George.'
+
+'You talk in riddles, child.'
+
+'Perhaps. Do you think, yourself, that George has had anything whatever
+to do with the business?'
+
+'If you put it so, I do not. If you ask me what I have a right to
+think--it is that everything is possible.'
+
+'That is what you said about Athelstan. Yet now his innocence is
+established.'
+
+'That is to say, his guilt is not proved. Find me the man who forged
+that cheque, and I will acknowledge that he is innocent. Until then, he
+is as guilty as the other man--Checkley--who was also named in
+connection with the matter. Mind, I say, I do not believe that my
+Partner could do this thing. I will tell him so. I have told him so. If
+it had to be done over again, I would ask him to become my partner. But
+all things are possible. My brother is hot upon it. Well--let him search
+as he pleases. In such a case the solution is always the simplest and
+the most unexpected. I told him only this morning--he had lunch with
+me--that he was on a wrong scent--but he is obstinate. Let him go on.'
+
+'Yes--let him divide a family--keep up bitterness between mother and
+son--make a lifelong separation between those who ought to love each
+other most---- Oh! it is shameful! It is shameful! And you make no
+effort--none at all--to stop it.'
+
+'What can I do? What can I say, more than I have said? If they would
+only not accuse each other--but find out something!'
+
+'Mr. Dering--forgive me--what I am going to say'--she began with jerks.
+'The honour of my brother--of my lover--are at stake.'
+
+'Say, child, what you please.'
+
+'I think that perhaps'--she did not dare to look at him--'if you could
+remember sometimes those dropped and forgotten evenings--those hours
+when you do not know what you have said and done--if you could only
+remember a little--we might find out more.'
+
+He watched her face blushing, and her eyes confused, and her voice
+stammering, and he saw that there was something behind--something that
+she hinted, but would not or could not express. He sat upright,
+suspicious and disquieted.
+
+'Tell me what you mean, child.'
+
+'I cannot--if you do not remember anything. You come late in the
+morning--sometimes two hours late. You think it is only ten o'clock when
+it is twelve. You do not know where you have been for the last two
+hours. Try to remember that. You were late on Saturday morning. Perhaps
+this morning. Where were you?'
+
+His face was quite white. He understood that something was
+going--soon--to happen.
+
+'I know not, Elsie--indeed--I cannot remember. Where was I?'
+
+'You leave here at five. You have ordered dinner, and your housekeeper
+tells me that you come home at ten or eleven. Where are you all that
+time?'
+
+'I am at the Club.'
+
+'Can you remember? Think--were you at the Club last night? George went
+there to find you, but you were not there--and you were not at home.
+Where were you?'
+
+He tried to speak--but he could not. He shook his head--he gasped twice.
+
+'You cannot remember? Oh! try--Mr. Dering--try--for the sake of
+everybody--to put an end to this miserable condition--try.'
+
+'I cannot remember,' he said again feebly.
+
+'Is it possible--just possible--that while you are away--during these
+intervals--you yourself may be actually--in the company--of this
+Socialist--this Edmund Gray?'
+
+'Elsie--what do you mean?'
+
+'I mean--can you not remember?'
+
+'You mean more, child! Do you know what you mean? If what you suggest is
+true, then I must be mad--mad. Do you mean it? Do you mean it? Do you
+understand what you say?'
+
+'Try--try to remember,' she replied. 'That is all I mean. My dear
+guardian, is there any one to whom I am more grateful than yourself? You
+have given me a fortune and my lover an income. Try--try to remember.'
+
+She left him without more words.
+
+He sat looking straight before him--the horror of the most awful thing
+that can befall a man upon him. Presently, he touched his bell, and his
+old clerk appeared.
+
+'Checkley,' he said, 'tell me the truth.'
+
+'I always do,' he replied surlily.
+
+'I have been suffering from fits of forgetfulness. Have you observed
+any impairing of the faculties? When a man's mental powers are decaying,
+he forgets things: he loses the power of work: his old skill leaves him:
+he cannot distinguish between good work and bad. He shows his mental
+decay, I believe, in physical ways--he shuffles as he walks; he stoops
+and shambles--and in his speech--he wanders and he repeats--and in his
+food and manner of eating. Have you observed any of these symptoms upon
+me, Checkley?'
+
+'Not one. You are as upright as a lance: you eat like five-and-twenty:
+your talk is as good and your work is as good as when you were
+forty.--Don't think such things. To be sure you do forget a bit. But not
+your work. You only forget sometimes what you did out of the office--as
+if that matters. Do you remember the case you tackled yesterday
+afternoon?'
+
+'Certainly.'
+
+'Do you tell me that any man--forty years younger than you--could have
+tackled that case more neatly? Garn! Go 'long!'
+
+Checkley went back to his office.
+
+'What did she mean by it, then?' Mr. Dering murmured. 'Who put her on to
+such a suspicion? What did she mean by it? Of course it's nonsense.' So
+reassuring himself, he yet remained disquieted. For he could not
+remember.
+
+At half-past five or so, Mr. Edmund Gray arrived at his Chambers. The
+outer door was closed, but he found his disciple waiting for him. She
+had been there an hour or more, she said. She was reading one of the
+books he had recommended to her. With the words of Mr. Dering in her
+ears, she read as if two voices were speaking to her--talking to each
+other across her.
+
+She laid down the book and rose to greet him. 'Master,' she said, 'I
+have come from Mr. Dering. He is your solicitor, you told me.'
+
+'Assuredly. He manages my affairs.'
+
+'It is curious--I asked him if he knew you--and he said that he knew
+nothing about you.'
+
+'That is curious, certainly. My solicitor for--for many years. He must
+have mistaken the name. Or--he grows old--perhaps he forgets people.'
+
+'Do you often see him?'
+
+'I saw him this morning. I took him my letter to the _Times_. He is
+narrow--very narrow, in his views. We argued the thing for a bit. But,
+really, one might as well argue with a stick as with Dering when
+Property is concerned. So he forgets, does he? Poor old chap! He
+forgets--well--we all grow old together!' He sighed. 'It is his time
+to-day and mine to-morrow.--My Scholar, let us talk.'
+
+The Scholar left her Master at seven. On her way out she ran against
+Checkley, who was prowling round the court. 'You!' he cried. 'You! Ah!
+I've caught you, have I? On Saturday afternoon I thought I see you going
+into No. 22. Now I've caught you coming out, have I?'
+
+'Checkley,' she said, 'if you are insolent, I shall have to speak to Mr.
+Dering;' and walked away.
+
+'There's another of 'em,' Checkley murmured, looking after her--'a
+hardened one, if ever there was. All for her lover and her brother! A
+pretty nest of 'em. And calls herself a lady!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+THE LESSON OF THE STREET
+
+
+'Child,' said the Master, 'it is time that you should take another
+lesson.'
+
+'I am ready. Let us begin.' She crossed her hands in her lap and looked
+up obedient.
+
+'Not a lesson this time from books. A practical lesson from men and
+women, boys and girls, children and infants in arms. Let us go forth and
+hear the teaching of the wrecks and the slaves. I will show you
+creatures who are men and women mutilated in body and mind--mutilated by
+the social order. Come, I will show you, not by words, but by sight, why
+Property must be destroyed.'
+
+It was seven o'clock, when Mr. Dering ought to have been thinking of his
+dinner, that Mr. Edmund Gray proposed this expedition. Now, since that
+other discourse on the sacredness of Property, a strange thing had
+fallen upon Elsie. Whenever her Master spoke and taught, she seemed to
+hear, following him, the other voice speaking and teaching exactly the
+opposite. Sometimes--this is absurd, but many true things are
+absurd--she seemed to hear both voices speaking together: yet she heard
+them distinctly and apart. Looking at Mr. Dering, she knew what he was
+saying: looking at Mr. Edmund Gray, she heard what he was saying. So
+that no sooner had these words been spoken, than, like a response in
+church, there arose the voice of Mr. Dering. And it said: 'Come. You
+shall see the wretched lives and the sufferings of those who are
+punished because their fathers or themselves have refused to work and
+save. Not to be able to get Property is the real curse of labour. It is
+no evil to work provided one chooses the work and creates for one's self
+Property. The curse is to have to work for starvation wages at what can
+never create property, if the worker should live for a thousand years.'
+
+Of the two voices she preferred the one which promised the abolition of
+poverty and crime. She was young: she was generous: any hope of a return
+of the Saturnian reign made her heart glow. Of the two old men--the mad
+man and the sane man--she loved the mad man. Who would not love such a
+man? Why, he knew how to make the whole world happy! Ever since the time
+of Adam we have been looking and calling out and praying for such a man.
+Every year the world runs after such a man. He promises, but he does not
+perform. The world tries his patent medicine, and is no better. Then,
+the year after, the world runs after another man.
+
+Elsie rose and followed the Master. It was always with a certain anxiety
+that she sat or talked with him. Always she dreaded lest, by some
+unlucky accident, he should awaken and be restored to himself suddenly
+and without warning--say in his Lecture Hall. How would he look? What
+should she say? 'See--in this place for many years past you have in
+course of madness preached the very doctrines which in hours of sanity
+you have most reprobated. These people around you are your disciples.
+You have taught them by reason and by illustration with vehemence and
+earnestness to regard the destruction of property as the one thing
+needful for the salvation of the world. What will you say now? Will you
+begin to teach the contrary? They will chase you out of the Hall for a
+madman. Will you go on with your present teaching? You will despise
+yourself for a madman.' Truly a difficult position. Habit, however, was
+too strong. There was little chance that Edmund Gray among his own
+people, and at work upon his own hobby, would become Edward Dering.
+
+They went out together. He led her--whither? It mattered not. North and
+South and East and West you may find everywhere the streets and houses
+of the very poor hidden away behind the streets of the working people
+and the well-to-do.
+
+The Master stopped at the entrance of one of those streets--it seemed to
+Elsie as if she was standing between two men both alike, with different
+eyes. At the corner was a public-house with swinging doors. It was
+filled with men talking, but not loudly. Now and then a woman went in or
+came out, but they were mostly men. It was a street long and narrow,
+squalid to the last degree, with small two-storied houses on either
+side. The bricks were grimy; the mortar was constantly falling out
+between them: the woodwork of doors and windows was insufferably grimy:
+many of the panes were broken in the windows. It was full of children:
+they swarmed: they ran about in the road, they danced on the pavement,
+they ran and jumped and laughed as if their lot was the happiest in the
+world and their future the brightest. Moreover, most of them, though
+their parents were steeped in poverty, looked well fed and even rosy.
+'All these children,' said Mr. Edmund Gray, 'will grow up without a
+trade: they will enter life with nothing but their hands and their legs
+and their time. That is the whole of their inheritance. They go to
+school, and they like school: but as for the things they learn, they
+will forget them, or they will have no use for them. Hewers of wood and
+drawers of water shall they be: they are condemned already. That is the
+system: we take thousands of children every year, and we condemn them to
+servitude--whatever genius may be lying among them. It is like throwing
+treasures into the sea, or burying the fruits of the earth. Waste!
+Waste! Yet, if the system is to be bolstered up, what help?'
+
+Said the other Voice: 'The world must have servants. These are our
+servants. If they are good at their work, they will rise and become
+upper servants. If they are good upper servants, they may rise higher.
+Their children can rise higher still, and their grandchildren may join
+us. Service is best for them. Good service, hard service, will keep them
+in health and out of temptation. To lament because they are servants is
+foolish and sentimental.'
+
+Standing in the doorways, sitting on the door-steps, talking together,
+were women--about four times as many women as there were houses. This
+was because there were as many families as rooms, and there were four
+rooms for every house. As they stood at the end of the street and looked
+down, Elsie observed that nearly every woman had a baby in her arms, and
+that there were a great many types or kinds of women. That which does
+not surprise one in a drawing-room, where every woman is expected to
+have her individual points, is noticed in a crowd, where, one thinks,
+the people should be like sheep--all alike.
+
+'A splendid place, this street, for such a student as you should be, my
+Scholar.' The Master looked up and down--he sniffed the air, which was
+stuffy, with peculiar satisfaction: he smiled upon the grubby houses.
+'You should come often; you should make the acquaintance of the people:
+you will find them so human, so desperately human, that you will
+presently understand that these women are your sisters. Change dresses
+with one of them: let your hair fall wild: take off your bonnet----'
+
+'Shall I then be quite like them?' asked Elsie. 'Like them, Master? Oh!
+not quite like them.'
+
+'Not quite like them,' he said. 'No; you could never talk like them.'
+
+He walked about among the people, who evidently knew him, because they
+made way for him, nodded to him, and pretended, such was their
+politeness, to pay no attention to the young lady who accompanied him.
+
+'Every one of them is a study,' he continued. 'I could preach to you on
+every one as a text. Here is my young friend Alice Parden, for
+instance'--he stopped before a pale girl of seventeen or so, tall and
+slender, but of drooping figure, who carried a baby in her arms. 'Look
+at her. Consider. Alice is foolish, like all the Alices of this street.
+Alice must needs marry her chap a year ago, when she was sixteen and he
+was eighteen. Alice should be still at her club in the evening and her
+work in the daytime. But she must marry, and she is a child mother.--Is
+he out of work still?' Alice nodded, and hugged her baby closer. Mr.
+Edmund Gray shook his head in admonition, but gave her a coin, and went
+on. 'Now look at this good woman'--he stopped before a door where an
+Amazon was leaning--a woman five feet eight in height, with brawny arms
+and broad shoulders and a fiery furnace for a face--a most terrible and
+fearful woman.--'How are you this evening, Mrs. Moss? And how is your
+husband?'
+
+Long is the arm of coincidence. Mrs. Moss was just beginning to repose
+after a row royal; she was slowly simmering and slowly calming. There
+had been a row royal, a dispute, an argument, a quarrel, and a fight
+with her husband. All four were only just concluded. All four had been
+conducted on the pavement, for the sake of coolness and air and space.
+The residents stood around: the controversy was sharp and animated: the
+lady bore signs of its vehemence in a bruise, rapidly blackening, over
+one eye, and abrasions on her knuckles. The husband had been conducted
+by his friends from the spot to the public-house at the corner, where he
+was at present pulling himself together, and forgetting the weight of
+his consort's fists, and solacing his spirit with strong drink.
+
+'How is my husband?' the lady repeated. 'Oh! I'll tell you. I'll tell
+you, Mr. Gray, how my husband is. Oh! how is he? Go, look for him in the
+public-house. You shall see how he is and what he looks like.' She
+descended two steps, still retaining the advantage of the lowest. Then,
+describing a semicircle with her right arm, she began an impassioned
+harangue. The residents fled, right and left, not knowing whether in her
+wrath she might not mistake the whole of them, collectively, for her
+husband. The men in the public-house hearing her voice, trembled, and
+looked apprehensively at the door. But Mr. Gray stood before her without
+fear. He knew her better than to run away. The lady respected his
+courage, and rejoiced in a sympathetic listener. Presently she ran down:
+she paused: she gasped: she caught at her heart: she choked: she wept.
+She sat down on the doorstep, this great strong woman, with the brawny
+arms and the fiery face, and she wept. The residents crept timidly back
+again and gathered round her, murmuring sympathy: the men in the
+public-house trembled again. Mr. Gray grasped her by the hand and
+murmured a few words of consolation; for indeed there were great wrongs,
+such as few wives even in this street expect, and undeniable
+provocations. Then he led his Scholar away.
+
+At the next house he entered, taking Elsie with him to a room at the
+back where a woman sat making garments. She was a middle-aged woman, and
+though very poorly dressed, not in rags: the room was neat except for
+the garments lying about. She looked up cheerfully--her eyes were
+bright, her face was fine--and smiled. 'You here, Mr. Gray?' she said.
+'Well, I was only thinking yesterday how long it is since you came to
+see me last. I mustn't stop working, but you can talk.'
+
+'This is a very special friend of mine,' said the Master. 'I have known
+her for ten years, ever since I began to visit the street. She is always
+cheerful: though she has to live on sweating work and sweating pay. She
+never complains. She lives like the sparrows, and eats about as much as
+a sparrow: she is always respectable. She goes to church on Sundays: she
+is always neat in her dress. Yet she must be always hungry.'
+
+'Ah!' said the woman, 'you'd wonder. Miss, if you knew how little a
+woman can live upon.'
+
+'Oh! but,' said Elsie, 'to have always to live on that little!'
+
+'She is the daughter of a man once thought well to do.'--'He was most
+respectable,' said the woman.--'He died, and left nothing but debts. The
+family were soon scattered, and--you see--this street contains some of
+those who have fallen low down as well as those who are born low down.
+It is Misfortune Lane as well as Poverty Lane. To the third and fourth
+generation, misfortune, when it begins--the reason of its beginning is
+the wickedness of one man--still persecutes and follows the family.'
+
+'Thank you, Miss,' said the woman. 'And if you will come again
+sometimes---- Oh! you needn't be afraid. No one would hurt a friend of
+Mr. Gray.' So they went out.
+
+On the next doorstep and the next and the next, there sat women old and
+young, but all of these had the same look and almost the same
+features--they were heavy-faced, dull-eyed, thick-lipped, unwashed, and
+unbrushed. 'These,' said the Master, 'are the women who know of nothing
+better than the life they lead here. They have no hope of rising: they
+would be unhappy out of this street. They bear children: they bring them
+up, and they die. It is womanhood at its lowest. They want warmth, food,
+and drink, and that is nearly all. They are the children and
+grandchildren of women like themselves, and they are the mothers of
+women like themselves. Savage lands have no such savagery as this, for
+the worst savages have some knowledge, and these women have none. They
+are mutilated by our system. We have deprived them of their souls. They
+are the products of our system. In a better order these people could not
+exist: they would not be allowed parents or birth. The boy would still
+be learning his trade, and the girl would be working at hers. That
+little woman who meets her troubles with so brave a heart has been
+sweated all her life--ever since her misfortunes began: she takes it as
+part of the thing they call life: she believes that it will be made up
+to her somehow in another world. I hope it will.'
+
+'All these people,' said the other Voice, 'are what they are because of
+the follies and the vices of themselves and their fathers. The
+boy-husband has no trade. Whose fault is that? The rickety boy and the
+rickety girl bring into the world a rickety baby. Whose fault is that?
+Let them grow worse instead of better until they learn by sharper
+suffering that vice and folly bring their punishment.'
+
+'You see the children,' continued the Master, 'and the mothers. You do
+not see any old men, because this sort mostly die before they reach the
+age of sixty. Those who are past work and yet continue to live go into
+the House. The girls you do not see, because those who are not forced to
+work all the evening as well as all the day are out walking with their
+sweethearts. Nor the men, because they are mostly in the public-house.
+They are all hand-to-mouth working men: they live by the job when they
+can get any. When they are out of work, they live upon each other. We
+hide this kind of thing away in back streets like this, and we think it
+isn't dangerous. But it is. Formerly, the wreckage huddled together bred
+plagues and pestilences, which carried off rich and poor with equal
+hand, and so revenged itself. In other ways, the wreckage revenges
+itself still.'
+
+'This kind of people,' said the other Voice, 'may be dangerous. We have
+a Police on purpose to meet the danger. They would be quite as dangerous
+if you were to give them free dinners and house them without rent. The
+class represents the untameable element. They are always a danger. To
+cry over them is silly and useless.'
+
+They walked down the street. Everybody knew Mr. Edmund Gray. He had a
+word for all. It was evident that he had been a visitor in the street
+for a long time: he had the air of a proprietor: he entered the houses
+and opened doors and sat down and talked, his disciple standing beside
+him and looking on. He asked questions and gave advice--not of a
+subversive Socialistic kind, but sound advice, recognising the order
+that is, not the order that should be.
+
+All the rooms in this street were tenanted, mostly a family to each. In
+many of them work was going on still, though it was already eight
+o'clock. Sometimes it would be a woman sitting alone in her room like a
+prisoner in a cell, stitching for dear life: sometimes three or four
+women or girls sitting all together, stitching for dear life: sometimes
+a whole family, little children and all, making matches, making canvas
+bags, making paper bags, making card-boxes, all making--making--making
+for dear life. And the fingers did not stop and the eyes were not
+lifted, though the visitors opened the door and came in and asked
+questions, to which one replied in the name of all the rest.
+
+It is an old, old story--everybody knows the slum: people go to gaze
+upon it; it is one of the chief sights of Victorian London, just as a
+hundred and fifty years ago it was one of the sights to see the women
+flogged at Bridewell. Not such a very great advance in civilisation,
+perhaps, after all.
+
+'It is a hive--the place is swarming with life,' said the girl, who had
+never before seen such a street.
+
+'Life means Humanity. All these people are so like you, my Scholar, that
+you would be surprised. You would not be like them if you were dressed
+in these things, but they are like you. They want the same things as
+you--they have the same desires--they suffer the same pains. What makes
+your happiness? Food--warmth, sufficiency, not too much work. These are
+the elements for you as well as for them. In my system they will have
+all these--and then perhaps they will build up, as you have done, an
+edifice of Knowledge, Art, and Sweet Thoughts. But they are all like
+you. And most in one thing. For all women of all classes, there is one
+thing needful. These girls, like you, want love. They all want love. Oh,
+child! they are so like you, so very like you--these poor women of the
+lowest class. So very like their proud sisters.' He paused for a moment.
+Elsie made no reply. 'You see,' he continued, 'they are so hard at work
+that they cannot even lift their eyes to look at you--not even at you,
+though they seldom see a girl among them so lovely and so well dressed.
+One would have thought--but there is the Whip that drives--that
+dreadful Whip--it hangs over them and drives them all day long without
+rest or pause. Their work pays their rent and keeps them alive. It just
+keeps them alive, and that is all. No more. It must be hard to work all
+day long for another person--if you come to think of it. Happily, they
+do not think. And all this grinding poverty--this terrible work, that
+one family may be able to live in a great house and to do nothing.'
+
+'They are working,' said the other Voice, 'because one man has had the
+wit to create a market for their work. His thrift, his enterprise, his
+clearness of sight, have made it possible for these girls to find the
+work that keeps them. If they would have the sense not to marry
+recklessly, there would be fewer working girls, and wages would go up.
+If their employer raised their wages only a penny a day, he would
+benefit them but little and would ruin himself. They must learn--if they
+can--the lesson of forethought by their own sufferings. No one can help
+them.'
+
+As Mr. Edmund Gray walked into the houses and out again Elsie went with
+him, or she waited outside while he went in. Sometimes she heard the
+chink of coin: sometimes she heard words of thanks. The Socialist,
+whatever he taught, practised the elementary form of charity possible
+only for those who have money. Elsie remarked this little point, but
+said nothing.
+
+'What you see here,' said the Master, 'is the lowest class of all--if
+one ever gets to the lowest level. For my own part, I have seen men and
+women so wretched that you would have called them _miserrimi_--of all
+created beings the most wretched. Yet have I afterwards found others
+more wretched still. In this street are those who make the lowest
+things: those who can make nothing, and have no trade, and live on odd
+jobs: and those who can neither make nor work, but thieve and lie
+about.'
+
+'I see all that; but, dear Master, what will your new order do for such
+people? Will it make those who will not work industrious?'
+
+'It will give every producer the fruits of his own labour: it will teach
+a trade to every man, and find men work. And those who cannot work, it
+will kill, or lock up until they die. They shall have no children.
+Perhaps it will kill them all. It might be better. We will have no human
+failures in our midst. That street is full of lessons, all calling
+aloud for the destruction of Property.'
+
+Then the other Voice spoke: 'The presence of the human failure is a
+lesson always before us--a warning and a lesson to rich and poor alike.
+As he is, so all may be. None are so rich but they may be brought to
+poverty: none so poor but they may be poorer. So far from hiding away
+the wreckage, it is always in our sight. It prowls about the streets: we
+can never escape it. And it fills all hearts with terror: it spurs all
+men to industry and invention and perseverance. The human failure
+inspires a never-ending hymn in praise of Property.'
+
+Elsie's guide stopped to greet a woman whom he knew. She had the usual
+baby on her arm. She was a sad-faced woman, with some refinement in her
+looks: she was wretchedly dressed, thin, pale, and dejected.
+
+'The same story?'
+
+'Yes, sir. It's always the same,' she sighed hopelessly. 'But he would
+work if he could get anything to do. Nobody will employ a man who's had
+a misfortune. It's hard--because such a thing may happen to anybody.
+It's like measles, my husband says. He can't get drunk because there's
+no money. That's my only comfort.'
+
+He gave her some money, and she passed on her way.
+
+'Her husband was a clerk,' Mr. Gray explained, 'who took to drink and
+robbed his employer. His father was a barrister, who died young. His
+grandfather was a well-known--almost a great lawyer. I know the whole
+family history. I learned it----' He stopped for a moment, as if his
+memory suddenly failed him--'somehow--a long time ago. It is a story
+which shows how our sins and follies fall upon our own children. This
+family sprang from the gutter. First, the working man: then his son the
+shopkeeper: then his grandson, who became a great lawyer: then his
+great-grandson, not so great a lawyer. He, you see, is the first of the
+family who begins life as a gentleman and is brought up among gentlemen:
+he inherited money: he had a practice: he married in the class called
+gentle, and had children. But he lost all his money, and in despair he
+killed himself. Cousinly affection is a cold thing at best. It helped
+the widow to a pittance, and sent her boys to a cheap school. At fifteen
+they had to take whatever employment they could get. Observe that this
+branch of the family was now going downhill very fast. The future of a
+boy who has been taught no trade and has entered no profession is black
+indeed. One of the boys went out to New Zealand, which has little to
+give a friendless boy: another enlisted, served three years, and has
+never got any work since. I believe he carries boards about the street.
+Another became a tenth-rate actor, and now starves on fifteen shillings
+a week, paid irregularly. Another--the youngest--was put into a
+merchant's office. He rose to a hundred and twenty pounds a year: he
+married a girl of the clerkly class--that woman you saw: he took to
+drink: he embezzled his master's money: he went to prison: he is now
+hopelessly ruined. He cannot get any lower in the social scale. What
+will his children do? They have no friends. They will grow up like the
+children around them: they will join the hopeless casuals: they will be
+hewers of wood. Property, my child, Property--has done this. He stole.
+In our society nobody will be tempted to steal. He drank--with us he
+would be kept judiciously under control until he could be trusted again.
+That would be the care of the State. He is another victim of Property.
+When his grandfather was framing Acts of Parliament for the protection
+of Property, he did not dream that he was making another engine for the
+oppression of his grandchildren.'
+
+Said the other Voice: 'We rise by our virtues. We sink by our vices. Let
+these people suffer. Their sufferings should make the rest of us wiser.
+Teach the children to rise again as their great-grandfather rose. Do not
+contend against the great Law which metes out suffering in return for
+vice.'
+
+'Those,' continued the Socialist Professor, 'who do most to make a few
+men rich are the real enemies of what they suppose themselves to be
+defending. Given a thousand women sweated for one man, and there
+presently arises indignation either among the women or among the
+bystanders. From indignation we get revolution, because the employer
+never gives way. He cannot. He would lose, if he did, his wealth, which
+is his Heaven. If you divide the thousand women into companies of ten,
+each company under its own sweater, and all the sweaters under other
+sweaters, you make a hierarchy of sweaters, culminating in one at the
+top. That was the old state of things. The man at the top was a Chief,
+a Patriarch: he knew his people: he sweated them, but kindly: he tossed
+them crumbs: he looked after the sick and the old. Now all this is
+changing. The old family tie--such as it was--is dissolved. The man at
+the top has disappeared: a Board of Directors has taken his place: there
+is nothing left but the Board and its employees. The men who work are no
+longer interested in the business of the firm, except so far as their
+pay is concerned. Their pay will go up and the dividends will go down.
+And with every increase of wages so much Property is destroyed. Let
+every thing--everything--be turned into Companies to help the
+destruction of Property.'
+
+Said the other Voice: 'Property is strengthened by being diffused.
+Companies organise labour: they give capital its proper power: they are
+not easily intimidated: they interest all who can save anything. Let us
+turn into Companies every industrial and distributive business in the
+country.'
+
+'All times of change,' the Master went on, 'are times of interest. We
+are living at a time when great changes are impending--the greatest
+changes possible. Before great changes there is always a period of
+unconscious preparation. The minds of people are being trained. Without
+any perception of the fact, old ideas are dying out and new ones are
+coming into existence. When the Revolution actually arrives, everybody
+is ready for it and nobody is surprised. It was so with the Reformation.
+For a hundred years and more the idea of the Great Revolt had been
+slowly growing in men's minds. When it came at last, there was no
+surprise and there were few regrets. For a hundred years and more the
+ideas of the French Revolution had been talked about by philosophers:
+these ideas sank down among the people. Nobody was surprised, not even
+the nobles themselves, when the end came. So with our Revolution. It is
+coming--it is coming--its ideas are no longer timidly advanced--here and
+there--by a fanatic here or a philosopher there: they are lying in the
+hearts of the people ready to spur them into action: they are helping on
+the cause by successive steps, every one of which means nothing less
+than the abolition of Property. These things are new to you, child. You
+were only born yesterday or the day before. I was born a hundred years
+ago or thereabouts. Consider again'--he leaned against a lamp-post for
+greater ease, and discoursed as one addressing an audience--'Consider, I
+say, this great question of Companies and their results. Formerly, one
+man made things which he took to market--sold or exchanged, and went
+home again. He, by himself, did everything. Then one man made and
+another man sold. The next improvement was for twenty men to work, for
+one to receive and to collect their work, and for another to sell it. In
+this way the twenty remained poor, and the two became rich. So they went
+on, and trade flourished, and the twenty producers more and more fell
+into the power of the two, who were now very rich and strong. Now the
+merchants are forming themselves into companies, and the companies are
+amalgamating with each other, and the small people may contemplate ruin.
+For these--now merchants, shopkeepers, manufacturers, workmen--there
+will be nothing but service in the companies; no possibility of
+acquiring Property, nothing but service all their lives. Now do you see
+how that helps the cause? They will become accustomed to work, but not
+for themselves: they will grow accustomed to work for a bare living and
+no more: they won't like either: but they will ask why the second should
+go with the first: the two great obstacles to Socialism will be removed.
+Then--either the step I spoke of just now--the abolition of the
+dividends--or, which is just as likely, a revolution, when the servants
+of the companies shall make the State take over all and work them for
+the good of all. Some there are who think that the workman will have
+hope and power for union crushed out of him. I think not; but if so--woe
+to the rich! The Jacquerie and the French Revolution will be spoken of
+as mild ebullitions of popular feeling compared with what will happen
+then. But I think not. I do not believe that the working man will sink
+again. He has got up so far. But he needs must climb higher.
+
+'You think it would be impossible'--by this time a small crowd had got
+round them, but the speaker still addressed his disciple as if no one
+else at all was listening--'for the State to take over the great
+producing and distributing companies. But it has been done already. The
+State has the Post and the Telegraph Services. They will deal with
+railways, steamers, coaches, cabs, omnibuses, trams, canals, water, gas,
+electric light, breweries, bakeries, factories, shops, just as they have
+dealt with these two. The State can take it all. The State will take the
+management of all. But, you say, the shares of the company will become
+Funds. They will, and the Funds will pay interest--but the interest
+will become rapidly lower and lower, so that what was once five per
+cent. is now but two and a half, and before long shall be two--one and a
+half--one--and nothing at all. There will be no cry of spoliation,
+because the holders of stock will be forced gradually into looking more
+and more to their own efforts, and because widows and sick people and
+old people, to whom the stocks were once so useful, will be all provided
+for by the State as a matter of right, and without any of the old
+humiliation of pauperdom. Pauper! Oh, heavenly word! Child, in the world
+of the future--the world which you will help to mould, we shall all be
+paupers,--every one.'
+
+He spoke with fine enthusiasm, his face lit up, his eyes bright. The
+girl was almost carried away, until the other Voice began coldly and
+judicially:
+
+'Nothing is so good for man as to be ruled and kept in discipline,
+service, and subjection. It is a foolish and a mischievous dream which
+supposes all men eager for advance. The mass of mankind asks for no
+advancement. It loves nothing and desires nothing but the gratification
+of the animal. Give it plenty of animalism and it is satisfied. That
+condition of society which keeps the mass down and provides for the rise
+of the ambitious few is the only condition which is reasonable and
+stable. Base your social order on the inertness of the mass. Make the
+workman do a good day's work: pay him enough, so that he shall have some
+of the comforts he desires: educate the clever boy and make him foreman,
+headman, manager, or artist, journalist, dramatist, novelist. Give him
+the taste for wealth. Let him have some. Then he, too, will be ready to
+fight if necessary in the army of order.'
+
+While the other Voice was speaking, there came slouching around the
+corner into the street where he held the fifth--perhaps the tenth part
+of a room, a really excellent specimen of the common or London thief,
+the habitual criminal. He was a young man--the habitual criminal is
+generally young, because in middle and elderly life he is doing long
+sentences--he had a furtive look, such as that with which the jackal
+sallies forth on nocturnal adventures: he had a short slight figure, a
+stooping and slouching gait, and narrow shoulders. His eyes were bright,
+but too close together: his mouth was too large and his jowl too heavy:
+his face was pale, his hair was still short, though growing rapidly: his
+hands were pendulous: his round hat was too big for his little head: he
+wore a long loose overcoat. His face, his figure, his look proclaimed
+aloud what he was.
+
+He stopped at the corner and looked at the little crowd. Everybody, for
+different reasons, is attracted by a crowd. Professionals sometimes find
+in crowds golden opportunities. This crowd, however, was already
+dispersing. The speaker had stopped. Perhaps they had heard other and
+more fervid orators on the Socialist side. Perhaps they were not in the
+least interested in the subject. You see, it is very difficult to get
+the hand-to-mouth class interested in anything except those two organs.
+
+'This street,' said the Master, observing him with professional
+interest, 'is full--really full--of wealth for the observer. Here is a
+case now--an instructive though a common case.' The fellow was turning
+away disappointed, perhaps, at the melting of the crowd and any little
+hope he might have based upon their pockets. 'My friend'--he heard
+himself called, and looked round suspiciously--'you would like, perhaps,
+to earn a shilling honestly, for once.'
+
+He turned slowly: at the sight of the coin held up before him, his sharp
+eyes darted right and left to see what chance there might be of a grab
+and a bolt. Apparently, he decided against this method of earning the
+shilling. 'What for?' he asked.
+
+'By answering a few questions. Where were you born?'
+
+'I dunno.'
+
+'Where were you brought up? Here?--In this street? Very well. You went
+to school with the other children: you were taught certain subjects up
+to a certain standard. What trade were you taught?'
+
+'I wasn't taught no trade.'
+
+'Your father was, I believe, a thief?'--The lad nodded--'And your
+mother, too?'--He nodded again, and grinned.--'And you yourself and your
+brothers and sisters are all in the same line, I suppose?'--He nodded
+and grinned again.--'Here is your shilling.' The fellow took it, and
+shambled away.
+
+'Father--mother--the whole family, live by stealing. Where there is no
+Property there can be no theft. In our world, such a creature would be
+impossible. He could not be born: such parents as his could not exist
+with us: he could not be developed: there would be no surroundings that
+would make such a development possible. He would be what, I believe, men
+of science call a Sport: he would be a deformity. We should put him in a
+hospital and keep him there until he died.'
+
+'In that world,' said the other Voice, 'there would be deformities of
+even a worse kind than this--the deformities of hypocrisy and shams. By
+a thousand shifts and lies and dishonesties the work of the world would
+be shifted on the shoulders of the weak. The strong man has always used
+his strength to make the weak man work for him, and he always will. The
+destruction of Property would be followed by the birth of Property on
+the very self-same day. There is the power of creation--of
+invention--which is also a kind of Property. Laws cannot destroy that
+power. Laws cannot make men industrious. Laws cannot make the strong man
+work for the weak. Laws cannot prevent the clever man from taking
+advantage of the stupid man. When all the failures--all the
+deformities--have been killed off, the able man will still prey upon the
+dull-witted. Better let the poor wretch live out his miserable life,
+driven from prison to prison, an example for all the world to see.'
+
+It was at this point that Elsie discovered the loss of her purse. Her
+pocket had been picked by one of the intelligent listeners in the crowd.
+She cried out on finding what had happened, in the unphilosophic
+surprise and indignation with which this quite common accident is always
+received.
+
+'Child,' said the Master, 'when there is no longer any Property, money
+will vanish: there will be no purses; even the pocket will disappear,
+because there will no longer be any use for a pocket.--Did the purse
+contain much? Suppose you had nothing to lose and nothing to gain. Think
+of the lightness of heart, the sunshine on all faces, which would
+follow. I fear you are rich, child. I have observed little signs about
+you which denote riches. Your gloves are neat and good; your dress seems
+costly. Better far if you had nothing.'
+
+'Master, if I were like that girl on the other side, would you like me
+better? Could I be more useful to the cause if I dressed like her?'
+
+The girl was of the common type--they really do seem, at first, all
+alike--who had on an ulster and a hat with a feather and broken boots.
+
+'If I were like her,' Elsie went on, 'I should be ignorant--and obliged
+to give the whole day to work, so that I should be useless to you--and
+my manners would be rough and my language coarse. It is because I am not
+poor that I am what I am. The day for poverty is not come yet, dear
+Master.'
+
+'In the future, dear child, there shall be no poverty and no riches. To
+have nothing will be the common lot. To have all will be the common
+inheritance. Oh! there will be differences: men shall be as unlike then
+as now: we shall not all desire the same things. You and such as you
+will desire Art of every kind. You shall have what you desire. In our
+world, as in this, like will to like. You shall have the use for
+yourselves of pictures, of musical instruments, of everything that you
+want. The rest of the world will not want these things. If they do, more
+can be made. You shall have dainty food--the rest of the world will
+always like coarse and common fare. Think not that we shall level up or
+level down. All will be left to rise or to sink. Only they shall not
+starve, they shall not thieve, they shall not be sweated. Oh! I know
+they paint our society as attempts to make all equal. And they think
+that we expect men no longer to desire the good things in the world.
+They will desire them--they will hunger after them--but there will be
+enough for all. The man who is contented with a dinner of herbs may go
+to a Carthusian convent, which is his place, for we shall have no place
+for him in a world which recognises all good gifts and assigns to every
+man his share.'
+
+Then spoke the other Voice, but sadly: 'Dreams! Dreams! There are not
+enough of the good things to go round--good things would become less
+instead of more. Without the spur there is no work. Without the desire
+of creating Property, all that is worth anything in life will
+perish--all but the things that are lowest and the meanest and the
+commonest. Men will not work unless they must. By necessity alone can
+the finest work be ordered and executed. As men have been, so will men
+always be. The thing that hath been, that shall be again.'
+
+'You have learned some of the lessons of Poverty Lane, Scholar,' said
+the Master.--'Let us now go home.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+'I KNOW THE MAN'
+
+
+'Another evening of mystery, Elsie?' said Athelstan.
+
+'Yes. Another, and perhaps another. But we are getting to an end. I
+shall be able to tell you all to-day or to-morrow. The thing is becoming
+too great for me alone.'
+
+'You shall tell us when you please. Meantime, nothing new has been found
+out, I believe. Checkley still glares, George tells me. But the opinion
+of the clerks seems on the whole more favourable, he believes, than it
+was. Of that, however, he is not perhaps a good judge.'
+
+'They shall all be turned out,' cried Elsie. 'How dare they so much as
+to discuss----'
+
+'My sister, it is a very remarkable thing, and a thing little
+understood, but it is a true thing. People, people--clerks and _le
+Service_ generally--are distinctly a branch of the great human tribe.
+They are anthropoid. Therefore, they are curious and prying and
+suspicious. They have our own faults, my dear.'
+
+All day Elsie felt drawn as with ropes to Mr. Dering's office. Was it
+possible that after that long evening among the lessons of Poverty Lane
+he should remember nothing? How was she to get at him--how was she to
+make him understand or believe what he had done? Could she make the sane
+man remember the actions and words of the insane man? Could she make the
+insane man do something which would absolutely identify him with the
+sane man? She could always array her witnesses: but she wanted more: she
+wanted to bring Mr. Dering himself to understand that he was Mr. Edmund
+Gray.
+
+She made an excuse for calling upon him. It was in the afternoon, about
+four, that she called. She found him looking aged, his face lined, his
+cheek pale, his eyes anxious.
+
+'This business worries me,' he said. 'Day and night it is with me. I am
+persecuted and haunted with this Edmund Gray. His tracts are put into my
+pockets; his papers into my safe: he laughs at me: he defies me to find
+him. And they do nothing. They only accuse each other. They find
+nothing.'
+
+'Patience,' said Elsie softly. 'Only a few days--a day or
+two--then--with your help--we will unravel all this trouble. You shall
+lose nothing.'
+
+'Shall I escape this mocking devil--this Edmund Gray?'
+
+'I cannot promise. Perhaps.--Now, my dear guardian, I am to be married
+next Wednesday. I want you to be present at my wedding.'
+
+'Why not?'
+
+'Because things have been said about George: and because your presence
+will effectually prove that you do not believe them.'
+
+'Oh! Believe them? I believe nothing. It is, however, my experience that
+there is no act, however base, that any man may not be tempted to do.'
+
+'Happily, it is my experience,' said the girl of twenty-one, 'that there
+is no act of baseness, however small, that certain men could possibly
+commit. You will come to my wedding, then. Athelstan will give me away.'
+
+'Athelstan? Yes; I remember. We found those notes, didn't we? I wonder
+who put them into the safe? Athelstan! Yes. He has been living in low
+company, I heard--Camberwell.--Rags and tatters.'
+
+'Oh!' Elsie stamped impatiently. 'You will believe anything--anything,
+and you a lawyer! Athelstan is in the service of a great American
+journal.--Rags and tatters!'
+
+'American? Oh! yes.' Mr. Dering sat up and looked interested. 'Why, of
+course. How could I forget it? Had it been yesterday evening, I should
+have forgot. But it is four years ago. He wrote to me from somewhere in
+America. Where was it? I've got the letter. It is in the safe. Bring me
+the bottom right-hand drawer. It is there, I know.' He took the drawer
+which Elsie brought him, and turned over the papers. 'Here it is among
+the papers of that forgery. Here is the letter.' He gave it to Elsie.
+'Read it. He writes from America, you see. He was in the States four
+years ago--and--and----What is it?'
+
+'Oh!' cried Elsie, suddenly springing from her chair--'Oh! Do you know
+what you have given me? Oh! do you know what you have told me? It is the
+secret--the secret--of my fortune. Oh! Athelstan gave it to
+me--Athelstan--my brother!'
+
+Mr. Dering took the letter from her and glanced at the contents. 'I
+ought not to have shown you the letter,' he said. 'I have violated
+confidence. I forgot. I was thinking of the trouble--I forgot. I forget
+everything now--the things of yesterday as well as the things of to-day.
+Yes; it is true, child: your little fortune came to you from your
+brother. But it was a secret that he alone had the right to reveal.'
+
+'And now I know it-- I know it. Oh! what shall I say to him?' The tears
+came in her eyes. 'He gave me all he had--all he had--because--oh! for
+such a simple thing--because I would not believe him to be a villain.
+Oh! my brother--my poor brother! He went back into poverty again. He
+gave me all because--oh! for such a little thing!--Mr. Dering!' She
+turned almost fiercely upon him. 'After such a letter, _could_ you
+believe that man to be a villain? Could you? Tell me! After such a deed
+and such a letter!'
+
+'I believe nothing. My experience, however, tells me that any man,
+whoever he is, may be led to commit----'
+
+'NO! I won't have it said again.--Now, listen, Mr. Dering. These
+suspicions must cease. There must be an end. Athelstan returned six
+weeks ago--or thereabouts. That can be proved. Before that time, he was
+working in San Francisco on the journal. That can be proved. While these
+forgeries, with which he is now so freely charged, were carried on here,
+he was abroad. I don't ask you to believe or to disbelieve or to bring
+up your experience--oh! such experience--one would think you had been a
+police magistrate all your life.'
+
+'No, Elsie.' Mr. Dering smiled grimly. 'There was no need to sit upon
+the bench; the police magistrate does not hear so much as the family
+solicitor. My dear, prove your brother's innocence by finding out who
+did the thing. That is, after all, the only thing. It matters nothing
+what I believe--he is not proved innocent--all the world may be
+suspected of it--until the criminal is found. Remove the suspicions
+which have gathered about your lover by finding the criminal. There is
+no other way.'
+
+'Very well, then. I will find the criminal, since no one else can.'
+
+Mr. Dering went on without heeding her words.
+
+'They want to get out a warrant against Edmund Gray. I think, for my own
+part, that the man Edmund Gray has nothing to do with the business. He
+is said to be an elderly man and a respectable man--a gentleman--who has
+held his Chambers for ten years.'
+
+'They need not worry about a warrant,' Elsie replied. 'Tell your
+brother, Mr. Dering, that it will be perfectly useless. Meantime--I
+doubt if it is any good asking you--but--if we want your help, will you
+give me all the help you can?'
+
+'Assuredly. All the help I can. Why not? I am the principal person
+concerned.'
+
+'You are, indeed,' said Elsie gravely--'the principal person concerned.
+Very well, Mr. Dering--now I will tell you more. I know the--the
+criminal. I can put my hand upon him at any moment. It is one man who
+has done the whole, beginning with the cheque for which Athelstan was
+suspected--one man alone.'
+
+'Why, child, what can you know about it? What can you do?'
+
+'You were never in love, Mr. Dering--else you would understand that a
+girl will do a great deal--oh! a great deal more than you would
+think--for her lover. It is not much to think for him and to watch for
+him--and for her brother--the brother who has stripped himself of
+everything to give his sister!' She was fain to pause, for the tears
+which rose again and choked her voice.
+
+'But, Elsie--what does this mean? How can you know what no one else has
+been able to find out?'
+
+'That is my affair, Mr. Dering. Perhaps I dreamed it.'
+
+'Do you mean that you will get back all the papers--all the
+transfers--the dividends that have been diverted--everything?'
+
+'Everything is safe. Everything shall be restored.--My dear guardian,
+it is a long and a sad story. I cannot tell you now. Presently,
+perhaps. Or to-morrow. I do not know how I shall be able to tell
+you. But for your property, rest easy. Everything will come back to
+you--everything--except that which cannot be stored in the vaults of the
+Bank.'
+
+The last words he heard not, or understood not.
+
+'I shall get back everything!' The eyes of the Individualist lit up and
+his pale cheek glowed--old age has still some pleasures. 'It is not
+until one loses Property that one finds out how precious it has become.
+Elsie, you remember what I told you, a day or two ago. Ah! I don't
+forget quite everything--a man is not the shivering naked soul only, but
+the complete figure, equipped and clothed, armed and decorated, bearing
+with him his skill, his wit, his ingenuity, his learning, his past, and
+his present, his memories and his rejoicings, his sorrows and his
+trials, his successes and his failures, and his Property--yes--his
+Property. Take away from him any of these things, and he is mutilated:
+he is not the perfect soul. Why, you tell me that my Property is coming
+back-- I awake again. I feel stronger already; the shadows are flying
+before me: even the terror of that strange forgetfulness recedes: and
+the haunting of Edmund Gray. I can bear all, if I get my Property back
+again. As for this forger--this miscreant--this criminal--you will hale
+him before the judge------'
+
+'Yes--yes. We will see about the miscreant afterwards. The first thing
+is to find the man and recover your Property, and to dispel the
+suspicions resting on innocent persons. If I do the former, you must aid
+me in the latter.'
+
+'Assuredly. I shall not shrink from that duty.'
+
+'Very well.--Now tell me about yourself. Sometimes it does good to talk
+about our own troubles. Tell me more about these forgetful fits. Do they
+trouble you still?' Her eyes and her voice were soft and winning. One
+must be of granite to resist such a voice and such eyes.
+
+'My dear'--Mr. Dering softened. 'You are good to interest yourself in an
+old man's ailments. It is Anno Domini that is the matter with me. The
+forgetful fits are only symptoms--and the disease is incurable. Ask the
+oak why the leaves are yellow.--It is the hand of winter. That is my
+complaint. First the hand of winter, then the hand of Death. Meantime,
+the voice of the grasshopper sings loud and shrill.' In presence of the
+simple things of age and death, even a hard old lawyer grows poetic.
+
+'Tell me the symptoms, then. Do you still forget things?'
+
+'Constantly. More and more. I forget everything.'
+
+'Where were you yesterday evening, for instance?'
+
+'I don't know. I cannot remember. I have left off even trying to
+remember. At one time I racked my brain for hours, to find out, and
+failed. Now I remember nothing. I never know when this forgetfulness may
+fall upon me. At any hour.--For instance--you ask me about yesterday
+evening. I ordered dinner at home. My housekeeper this morning reminded
+me that I did not get home last night till eleven. Where was I? Where
+did I spend the evening?'
+
+'At the Club?'
+
+'No-- I took a cab this morning and drove there under pretence of asking
+for letters. I asked if I was there last night. The hall porter stared.
+But I was not there. I thought that I might have fallen asleep there. I
+have done so before. Checkley tells me that I went away before him.
+Where was I?-- Child!'--he leaned forward and whispered, with white
+cheeks--'I have read of men going about with disordered brains doing
+what they afterwards forget. Am I one of these unfortunates? Do I go
+about with my wits wandering? Oh! horrible! I picture to myself an old
+man--such as myself--of unblemished reputation and blameless
+life--wandering about the streets demented--without conscience--without
+dignity--without self-respect--committing follies--things
+disgraceful--even things which bring men before the law----' He
+shuddered. He turned pale.
+
+'No--no,' murmured Elsie. 'You could not. You could never----'
+
+'Such things are on record. They have happened. They may happen again. I
+have read of such cases. There was a man once--he was like myself--a
+Solicitor--who would go out and do things, not knowing what he did. They
+found him out at last doing something so incredibly foolish that there
+was but one explanation. In another man and a younger man it would have
+been worse than foolish, it would have been criminal. Then they gave him
+a companion, and he discovered what he had done. The shame and the shock
+of it killed him. I have thought of that man of late. Good Heavens!
+Think, if you can, of any worse disaster. Let me die--let me die, I say,
+rather than suffer such a fate--such an affliction. I see myself brought
+before the magistrate--me--myself--at my age, charged with this and with
+that. What defence? None, save that I did not remember.'
+
+'That could never be,' said Elsie confidently, because she knew the
+facts. 'If such a thing were to befall, your character would never be
+changed. You might talk and think differently, but you could never be
+otherwise than a good man. You to haunt low company? Oh! you could not
+even in a waking dream. People who dream, I am sure, always remain
+themselves, however strangely they may act. How could you--you--after
+such a life as yours, become a haunter of low company? One might perhaps
+suppose that Athelstan had been living among profligates because he is
+young and untried--but you?--you? Oh! no. If you had these waking
+dreams--perhaps you have them--you would become--you would become--I
+really think you would become'--she watched his face--'such--such a man
+as--as--Mr. Edmund Gray, who is so like yourself, and yet so different.'
+
+He started. 'Edmund Gray again? Good Heavens! It is always Edmund Gray!'
+
+'He is now a friend of mine. I have only known him for a week or two. He
+does not think quite as you do. But he is a good man. Since, in dreams,
+we do strange things, you might act and speak and think as Edmund Gray.'
+
+'I speak and think as---- But--am I dreaming? Am I forgetting again? Am
+I awake? Edmund Gray is the man whom we want to find.'
+
+'I have found him,' said Elsie quietly.
+
+'The forger--if he is the forger----'
+
+'No--no. Do not make more mistakes. You shall have the truth in a day or
+two. Would you like to see Edmund Gray? Will you come with me to his
+Chambers? Whenever you call, you--you, I say--will find him at home.'
+
+'No--no. I know his doctrines--futile doctrines--mischievous doctrines.
+I do not wish to meet him. What do you mean by mistakes? There are the
+letters--there are the forgeries. Are there two Edmund Grays?'
+
+'No--only one. He is the man they cannot find. I will show you, if you
+like, what manner of man he is.'
+
+'No. I do not want to see a Socialist. I should insult him.--You are
+mysterious, Elsie. You know this man, this mischievous doctrinaire--this
+leveller--this spoliator. You tell me that he is a good man--you want me
+to see him. What, I ask, do these things mean?'
+
+'They mean many things, my dear guardian. Chiefly they mean that you
+shall get back your Property, and that suspicion shall be removed from
+innocent persons--and all this, I hope, before next Wednesday, when I am
+to be married. We must all be happy on my wedding day.'
+
+'Will--will Mr. Edmund Gray be there as well?'
+
+'He has promised.--And now, my dear guardian, if you will come round to
+Gray's Inn with me, I will show you the Chambers of Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+'No--no. Thank you, Elsie-- I do not wish to make the personal
+acquaintance of a Socialist.'
+
+'He has Chambers on the second floor. The principal room is large and
+well furnished. It is a wainscoted room with two windows looking on the
+Square. It is not a very pretty Square, because they have not made a
+garden or laid down grass in the middle--and the houses are rather
+dingy. He sits there in the evening. He writes and meditates. Sometimes
+he teaches me, but that is a new thing. In the morning he is sometimes
+there between nine o'clock and twelve. He has an old laundress, who
+pretends to keep his rooms clean.'
+
+She murmured these words softly, thinking to turn his memory back and
+make him understand what had happened.
+
+'They are pleasant rooms, are they not?' He made no reply--his eyes
+betrayed trouble. She thought it was the trouble of struggling
+memory.--'He sits here alone and works. He thinks he is working for the
+advancement of the world. There is no one so good, I think, as Edmund
+Gray.'
+
+He suddenly pushed back the chair and sprang to his feet.
+
+'My Scholar! You speak of me?'
+
+It was so sudden that Elsie cried out and fell backwards in her chair.
+She had brought on the thing by her own words, by conjuring up a vision
+of the Chambers. But--the trouble was not the struggle of the memory
+getting hold of evasive facts.
+
+'Why, child,' he remonstrated, 'you look pale. Is it the heat? Come, it
+is cooler outside. Let us go to the Chambers in Gray's Inn. This old
+fellow--this Dering--here he sits all day long. It is Tom Tiddler's
+ground. It is paved with gold, which he picks up. The place--let us
+whisper--because he must be in the outer office--it reeks of
+Property--reeks of Property.'
+
+He took his hat and gloves. 'My Scholar, let us go.' By force of habit,
+he shut and locked the safe and dropped the bunch of keys in his
+pocket.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+ATHELSTAN'S DISCOVERY
+
+
+On the evening of that same day the same discovery was made by another
+of the persons chiefly concerned.
+
+You have seen that Athelstan on his return made haste to find out the
+commissionaire who had presented the forged cheque. Happily, the man
+remembered not only the circumstance itself but also his employer on
+that occasion. A generosity far above what is commonly found among those
+who employ the services of that corps endeared and preserved the memory
+of the day. He had received, in fact, half a sovereign for an
+eighteenpenny job; and the commissionaire is not like the cabby, to whom
+such windfalls are common. Not at all. With the former we observe the
+letter of the law.
+
+After eight years this man's memory was rewarded. This thrice blessed
+job produced yet more golden fruit. Heard one ever of a more prolific
+job?
+
+After breakfast, Athelstan was informed that a commissionaire desired to
+speak with him. It was his one-armed friend.
+
+'Beg your pardon, sir,' he said, saluting after the military
+manner--'you said I was to come and tell you, first thing, if I found
+your man for you.'
+
+'Certainly. I told you also that I would give you a five-pound reward
+for finding my man, as you call him. Well--I will be as good as my word
+if you have found him.'
+
+'I saw him yesterday. The very same old gentleman that sent me to the
+Bank that day. He's older, and he doesn't look so jolly, and he walks
+slower; but I knew him at once.'
+
+'Oh! are you quite sure? Because a resemblance, you know----'
+
+'Well, sir, I can swear to him. I remember him as well as I remember
+anybody. He sat in the chair, and he laughed, and he said: "You've been
+quick over the job, my man. There's something extra, because you might
+have dropped the money down a grating, or run away with it, or
+something," he says. "Here's half a sovereign for you, my man," says he;
+"and I daresay you can do with it." "I can so, sir," I says, "and with
+as many more like them as I can pick up." Then he laughed, and I
+laughed, and we both laughed.--And that's the same man that I saw
+yesterday evening.'
+
+'Oh! this is very curious. Are you quite sure?'
+
+'I'd swear to him anywhere. A man can't say fairer.'
+
+'No--as you say--a man can hardly say fairer, can he? Now, then, when
+did you see him?'
+
+'It was between six and seven. I'd been doing a message for a gentleman
+in the Strand--a gentleman in the dining-room line to a gentleman in
+Holborn in the sausage and tripe line--and I was going back with a
+letter, and going through Lincoln's Inn for a short cut. Just as I was
+getting near the gate to the Fields, I saw coming out of the door at No.
+12 the very man you want to find. I wasn't thinking about him, not a
+bit-- I was thinking of nothing at all, when he come out of the door and
+walked down the steps. Then I knew him. Lord! I knew him at once.
+"You're the man," I says to myself, "as give me the half-sov. instead of
+eighteenpence." Well, I stood at the corner and waited to see if he
+would remember me. Not a bit of it. He stared at me hard, but he never
+recollected me a bit--I could see that. Why should he? Nobody remembers
+the servant any more than they remember the private in the ranks. The
+very same old gentleman; but he's grown older, and he didn't look jolly
+any more. P'raps he's lost his money.'
+
+'Came out of No. 12, did he? Why, Dering & Son's office is there. What
+does this mean?'
+
+'I thought I'd like to find out something more about him; and I thought
+that a five-pound note was better worth looking after than
+eighteenpence--so I let the letter from the tripe and sausage man lay a
+bit, and I followed my old gentleman at a good distance.'
+
+'Oh! you followed him. Very good. Did you find out where he lived? I can
+tell you that. He went to No. 22 South Square, Gray's Inn.'
+
+'No; he didn't, sir.--But you are not very far wrong. He went through
+Great Turnstile; then he crossed Holborn and turned into Featherstone
+Buildings, which is all lodging-houses. But he doesn't live there. He
+walked through the Buildings, and so into Bedford Row, and he stopped at
+a house there----'
+
+'What! In Bedford Row?'
+
+'Yes; in Bedford Row--and he pulls out a latch-key and lets himself in.
+That's where he lives. No. 49 Bedford Row, on the west side, very near
+the bottom. He lives in Bedford Row.--Well, sir, I like to do things
+proper, and so, to make the job complete, I went to the _Salutation_,
+Holborn, where they keep a Directory, and I looked out his name. The
+gentleman that lives at No. 49 Bedford Row is named Edward Dering--and
+among the names of No. 12 New Square, Lincoln's Inn, is the name of
+Dering & Son.--So, sir, I don't think it is too much to say that your
+man is Mr. Dering, who belongs both to Bedford Row and Lincoln's Inn.
+He's the man who sent me to the Bank eight years ago.'
+
+Athelstan stared at him. 'He the man?' he cried. 'You are talking
+impossibilities. He can't be the man.'
+
+'Nobody else, sir. If that was Mr. Dering that I saw yesterday walking
+home from New Square to Bedford Row--he's the man who sent me for the
+money.'
+
+To this statement the man stuck firm. Nor could he be moved by any
+assertion that his position was impossible. 'For, my friend,' said
+Athelstan, 'the man who sent you with the cheque was the man who robbed
+Mr. Dering.'
+
+'Can't help that, sir. If the gentleman I saw yesterday walking from
+Lincoln's Inn to Bedford Row was Mr. Dering--then he robbed hisself.'
+
+'That's foolishness. Oh! there must be some explanation. Look here! Mr.
+Edward Dering leaves his office every evening between six and seven. I
+will be in New Square on the west side this evening at six. You be
+there, as well. Try not to seem as if you were watching for anybody.
+Stand about at your ease.'
+
+'I'll make it sentry-go, sir,' said the old soldier. 'I'll walk up and
+down in front of the door same as some of our chaps got to do in front
+of shops. You trust me, sir, and I won't take no notice of you.'
+
+This little plot, in fact, was faithfully carried out. At six o'clock
+Athelstan began to walk up and down outside the gate which opens upon
+Lincoln's Inn Fields--the commissionaire at the same time was doing
+sentry-go in front of No. 12 in New Square. When the clock struck six
+there was a rush and a tramp of hurrying feet; these were the clerks set
+free for the day. There are not many solicitors' offices in New Square,
+and these once gone, the place becomes perfectly quiet. At half-past
+six there was the footfall as of one man on the stairs, and he descended
+slowly. He came out of the door presently, an old bent figure with white
+hair and shrivelled face. Paying no heed to the sentry, he walked away
+with feeble step in the direction of Chancery Lane. Checkley this was,
+on his way to look after his tenants and his property.
+
+Athelstan looked after him, through the gate. Then he called his old
+soldier. 'See that man?' he asked. 'That's the man who sent you to the
+Bank.'
+
+'No--he isn't.' The man was stout on that point. 'Not a bit like him.
+That old man's a servant, not a gentleman. See the way he holds his
+hands. Never a gentleman yet carried his hands that way. You can always
+tell 'em by their hands. The other day I met an old pal--seemed to
+forget me, he did. Wanted to make out that he'd never been in the army
+at all. So I lay by for a bit. Then I gets up--and he gets up too.
+"'Tention," says I, and he stood to 'tention like a good old Tommy
+Atkins. You watch their hands whatever they say. Always tell 'em by
+their hands. That old man he's a servant. He isn't a gentleman. He can't
+sit among the swells and order about the waiters. He hasn't learned that
+way. He'd get up himself, if you asked him, and put the napkin under his
+arm and bring you a glass of sherry wine. He's not my man. You wait a
+bit.'
+
+At a quarter to seven another footstep was heard echoing up and down the
+empty building. Then an old man, erect, thin, tightly buttoned, wearing
+neat gloves and carrying an umbrella, came out of the door. His face was
+hard, even austere. His walk was firm. The Sentry, as this person walked
+out of the gate, followed at a distance. When he was beside Athelstan,
+he whispered: 'That's the man. I'd swear to him anywhere. That's the man
+that sent me to the Bank.'
+
+Athelstan heard in unbounded astonishment. That the man? Why--it was Mr.
+Dering himself!
+
+'Let us follow him,' he whispered. 'Not together. On opposite sides of
+the road. Good Heavens! This is most wonderful. Do not lose sight of
+him.'
+
+To follow him was perfectly easy, because Mr. Dering turned neither to
+the right nor to the left, but marched straight on through Great
+Turnstile, across Holborn, through Featherstone Buildings, and into
+Bedford Row. At No. 49, his own house. Where else should he stop?
+
+Athelstan took out his purse and gave the man the five pounds. 'I don't
+know what it means,' he said. 'I can't understand a word. But I suppose
+you have told me the truth. I don't know why you should make up a
+lie----'
+
+'It's Gauspel Truth,' said the man.
+
+'And therefore again--I don't understand it. Well--I've got your name
+and your number. If I want you again I will send for you.'
+
+The man saluted and walked away. Half a sovereign for an eighteenpenny
+job, and eight years afterwards five pounds on account of the same job.
+Robbery, was it? Robbery--and the old man pretending to rob himself. Now
+what did that mean? Laying it on to some poor harmless innocent cove,
+the soldier guessed: laying it on to some one as he had a spite
+against--the old villain--very likely this young governor--most likely--
+Donation on account of that same job, very likely--the old villain!
+
+As for Athelstan, he returned to Lincoln's Inn Fields, where, the
+evening being fine and the sun warm and the place quiet except for the
+children at play, he walked up and down the east or sunny side for half
+an hour turning the thing over in his mind.
+
+For, you see, if Mr. Dering went through the form of robbing himself and
+finding out the robbery and coldly suffering the blame to fall upon
+himself--then Mr. Dering must be one of the most phenomenally wicked of
+living men. Or, if Mr. Dering robbed himself, and did not know it--then
+Mr. Dering must be mad.
+
+Again, if such a thing could be done on a small scale, it might be done
+on a larger scale with the same result--namely, suspicion to fall upon a
+blameless person; obloquy to gather round his name--for in some cases
+simply to be charged is almost as fatal as to be convicted: and perfect
+impunity for himself. 'This is not my own writing, but a forgery,' said
+the man who had been robbed. Then, who is the forger? You--you. None but
+you. The bare suspicion becomes a certainty in the minds of those who
+were once that man's friends.--And his life is cankered at the outset.
+He thought of his own life; the bitterness of alienation and exile.
+Never any time for eight years when he could explain the reasons of his
+exile. Debt, the cultivation of wild oats, failure to pass
+examinations--anything would do for such a reason except suspicion of
+forgery. Athelstan was a cheerful young man. He seldom allowed himself
+to be cast down by the blows of fate. Nevertheless, during his whole
+time of exile, the drop of bitterness that poisoned his cup was that he
+could not tell the whole story because the world would believe no more
+than half--that half, namely, which contained the accusation. When one
+walks about thinking, there comes a time when it seems no good to think
+any longer. The mind can only get a certain amount out of a case at one
+sitting. That amount absorbed, the best thing is to go on to something
+else. Athelstan went on to dinner. He left his sister to the care of her
+young man, and dined by himself. He took a steak at a Holborn restaurant
+with an evening paper, which he considered professionally. After dinner
+he returned to his subject. Perhaps he should get a step farther.
+No--perhaps on account of the sweet influence of dinner he got no
+farther at all. Here was an astonishing fact. How to account for it? You
+have seen--by one of two ways--malignity unspeakable: or
+madness--madness of a very curious kind--the madness of a man whose calm
+cold judgment had made him appear to his friends as one with an
+intellect far above any ordinary weaknesses of humanity. Mr. Dering mad?
+Then the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the Speaker of the House of
+Commons, the President of the Royal Society, the President of the
+Institute of Civil Engineers, the Cambridge Professors of
+Mathematics--all these men might be mad as well. And nobody to know it
+or to suspect it. Mr. Dering mad! and yet, if not, what was he?
+
+There was one way. He had tried it already once. He left the restaurant
+and turned eastwards. He was going to try South Square, Gray's Inn,
+again. Perhaps Mr. Edmund Gray would be in his rooms.
+
+He was not. The door was shut. But the opposite door stood open, that of
+Freddy Carstone. Athelstan knocked, and was admitted with eloquence
+almost tumultuous.
+
+'Just in time,' said the coach. 'I've got a new brand of whisky,
+straight from Glasgow. You shall sample it. Have you had dinner yet? So
+have I. Sit down. Let us talk and smoke tobacco and drink whisky and
+soda.'
+
+'I will do the talking and the tobacco at any rate.'
+
+'I love Virtue,' said Freddy. 'She is a lovely goddess--for "if Virtue
+feeble were, Heaven itself would stoop to her." She has only one fault.
+There is reproach in her voice, reproach in her eye, and reproach in her
+attitude. She is an uncomfortable goddess. Fortunately, she dwells not
+in this venerable foundation. Do not imitate Virtue, old boy. Let me----
+That's right. We shall then start fair upon the primrose path--the broad
+and flowery way--though I may get farther down than you. Athelstan the
+Wanderer--Melmoth the Wanderer--Childe Harold the Pilgrim--drink and be
+human.' He set the example. 'Good whisky--very good whisky. Athelstan,
+there's a poor devil up-stairs, starving for the most part--let's have
+him down. It's a charity.' He ran up-stairs, and immediately returned
+with the decayed Advocate, who looked less hungry than usual, and a
+shade less shabby--you have seen how he borrowed of Mr. Edmund Gray
+through Elsie.
+
+'Now,' said the host, 'I call this comfortable; a warm August evening;
+the window open; a suspicion of fresh air from the gardens; soda and
+whisky; and two men for talk. Most evenings one has to sit alone. Then
+there's a temptation to--to close the evening too quickly.'
+
+'Freddy, I want to hear more about your neighbour. You told me
+something, if you remember, a week or two ago.'
+
+'Very odd thing. Old Checkley at the _Salutation_ is always pestering
+about Mr. Edmund Gray. What has he to do with Mr. Edmund Gray? Wanted me
+to answer his questions.'
+
+'And me,' said Mr. Langhorne. 'I did answer them.'
+
+'Well--Mr. Edmund Gray is---- What is he? An old gentleman of cheerful
+aspect, who is apparently a Socialist. We must all be allowed our little
+weaknesses. All I ask for is----' He reached his hand for the whisky.
+'This old gentleman carries his hobbies so far as to believe in them
+seriously. I've talked to him about them.'
+
+'I have heard him lecture at Camden Town,' said the Barrister. 'I go
+there sometimes on Sunday evening. They have a tea-feast with him and
+cake and toast. It is a pleasant gathering. It reminds one of the Early
+Church.'
+
+'Well, Athelstan, what else can I tell you? Hark!' There was a step
+heard ascending the stairs. 'I believe that is the old man himself. If
+it is, you shall see him. I will bring him in.'
+
+He went out to meet the unknown footstep on the landing. He greeted the
+owner of that footstep: he stopped him: he persuaded him to step into
+the opposite room. 'You must be lonely, Mr. Gray, sitting by yourself.
+Come in and have an hour's talk. Come in. This way. The room is rather
+dark. Here is Mr. Langhorne, your overhead neighbour, whom you know; and
+here is Mr. Athelstan Arundel, whom you don't know. Those who do know
+him like him, except for his Virtue, which is ostentatious in one so
+young.'
+
+It was now nearly nine o'clock. The lamp was not lit, and the room lay
+in twilight. It is the favourite shade for ghosts. A ghost stood before
+Athelstan, and shook hands with him--the ghost of Mr. Dering.
+
+'I am happy'--the ghost held out his hand--'to make your acquaintance,
+Mr. Arundel. An old man, like myself, makes acquaintances, but not
+friends. His time for new friendships is gone. Still, the world may be
+full of pleasant acquaintances.'
+
+He sat down, taking a chair in the window: the shade of the curtain fell
+upon his face so that nothing could be seen but a white circle.
+
+'Let us have candles, Freddy,' said Athelstan.
+
+'By all means.' Freddy lit a lamp on the table and two candles on the
+mantel-shelf. By their light the lineaments and figure of the ghost came
+out more distinctly. Athelstan gazed on it with bewilderment; his head
+went round; he closed his eyes: he tried to pull himself together.
+
+He sat up: he drank half a glass of whisky and soda, he stared steadily
+at the figure he had not seen for eight years, since---- Good Heavens!
+and this man had done it himself! And he was as mad as a hatter.
+
+Mr. Edmund Gray looked serenely cheerful. He lay back in the long chair,
+his feet extended and crossed: his elbows on the arms of the chair, his
+finger-tips touching; his face was wreathed with smiles; he looked as if
+he had always found the world the best of all possible worlds.
+
+Athelstan heard nothing of what was said. His old friend Freddy Carstone
+was talking in his light and airy way, as if nothing at all mattered. He
+was not expected to say anything. Freddy liked to do all the talking for
+himself--therefore he sat watching a man under an illusion so
+extraordinary that it made him another man. Nothing was changed in
+him--neither features nor voice nor dress--yet he was another man.
+'Why,' asked Athelstan, 'why did he write that cheque for seven hundred
+and twenty pounds?'
+
+Presently Freddy stopped talking, and Mr. Edmund Gray took up the
+conversation. What he said--the doctrines which he advanced, we know
+already. 'And these things,' said Athelstan to himself, 'from those
+lips! Is it possible?'
+
+At ten o'clock Mr. Edmund Gray rose. He had to write a letter; he prayed
+to be excused. He offered his hand again to Athelstan. 'Good-night,
+sir,' he said. 'To the pleasure of seeing you again.'
+
+'Have we never met before, Mr. Gray?' Athelstan asked.
+
+'I think not. I should remember you, Mr. Arundel, I am sure,' Mr. Gray
+replied politely. 'Besides, I never forget a face. And yours is new to
+me.--Good-night, sir.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+CHECKLEY SEES A GHOST
+
+
+To Checkley, watching every evening, though not always at the same time,
+sooner or later the same discovery was certain to come. It happened, in
+fact, on Friday evening, the day after Athelstan shook hands with Mr.
+Edmund Gray. On that night he left the office between six and seven,
+walked to his lodgings in Clerkenwell, made himself a cup of tea, and
+hurried back to Gray's Inn. Here he planted himself, as usual, close to
+the passage in the north-east corner of South Square, so that he could
+slip in on occasion and be effaced. Like many of the detective tribe, or
+like the ostrich, fount of many fables, he imagined himself by reason of
+this retreat entirely hidden from the observation of all. Of course the
+exact contrary was the result. The Policeman regarded him with the
+liveliest curiosity: the laundresses watched him daily: the newspaper
+vendor came every evening from the gateway to see what this ancient spy
+was doing, and why he lurked stealthily in the passage and looked out
+furtively. He was one of the little incidents or episodes which vary the
+daily routine of life in the Inn. Many of these occur every year: the
+people who come to their offices at ten and go away at five know nothing
+about them: the residents who leave at ten and return at six or seven
+or twelve know nothing about them. But the Service know: and they talk
+and conjecture. Here was an elderly man--nay, an old, old man,
+apparently eighty years of age. What did he want, coming night after
+night to hide himself in a passage and peer out into the Square? What,
+indeed? The Policeman, who had done duty in Hyde Park, could tell
+instructive stories from his own experience about frisky age: the
+laundresses remembered gentlemen for whom they had 'done,' and pranks
+with which those gentlemen amused themselves; but no one knew a case
+parallel to this. Why should an old man stand in the corner and secretly
+look out into the Square? He generally arrived at half-past seven, and
+he left his post at nine, when it was too dark to see across the Square.
+Then he went to the _Salutation_ and enjoyed society, conversation, and
+a cheerful glass, as you have seen.
+
+The time he chose was unfortunate, because Mr. Edmund Gray, when he
+called at his Chambers, generally did so at half-past six or seven, on
+his way to the Hall of Science, Kentish Town. Therefore, Checkley might
+have gone on watching for a long time--say an æon--watching and waiting
+in vain. But an accident happened which rewarded him richly for all his
+trouble. It was on Friday. Elsie, provided by this time with a latch-key
+to the Chambers, arrived at Gray's Inn at six. She was going to spend
+the evening with the Master. She walked in, ascended the staircase--Mr.
+Gray had not yet arrived--opened the door, shut it behind her, and
+entered the room.
+
+The hand of woman was now visible in the general improvement of the
+room. The windows were clean and bright: the wainscoted walls had been
+cleaned: the ceiling whitewashed: the carpet had been swept and the
+furniture dusted: there were flowers on the table: there was an easel,
+on which stood Elsie's fancy portrait of Mr. Dering, so wonderfully like
+Mr. Gray--a speaking likeness: books lay about the table--they were all
+books on the Labour Question: on the Social Question: on the Problems of
+the Day: all the books on all the questions with which men now torture
+themselves, and think thereby to advance the coming of the Kingdom of
+Heaven. There were new curtains, dainty curtains, of lace, hanging
+before the windows: and the window-blinds themselves were clean and new.
+Elsie looked about her with a certain satisfaction: it was her own
+doing, the work of her own hand, because the old laundress was satisfied
+to sit down and look on. 'At the least,' she said, 'the poor dear man
+has a clean room.' Then she remembered that in a day or two she would
+leave him to his old solitude, and she sighed, thinking how he clung to
+her and leaned upon her, and already looked upon her as his
+successor--'a clean room,' she said, 'when I have left him. Perhaps he
+will leave the room, too, and be all day long what he used to be.--Sane
+or mad? I love him best when he is mad.'
+
+The table was covered with manuscripts. These were part of the great
+work which he was about to give to the world.
+
+Elsie had never seen the room behind this. A guilty curiosity seized
+her. She felt like the youngest of Bluebeard's wives. She felt the
+impulse: she resisted: she gave way: she opened the door and looked in.
+
+She found a room nearly as large as the sitting-room. The windows were
+black with dust and soot. She opened one, and looked out upon a small
+green area outside, littered with paper and bottles and all kind of
+jetsam. The floor of the room was a couple of inches deep with dust: the
+chairs and the dressing-table were deep in dust. The bed was laid, but
+the blankets were devoured by moths: there was not a square inch left
+whole. It looked as if it had been brought in new and covered with
+sheets and blankets and so left, the room unopened, the bed untouched,
+for the ten years of Mr. Edmund Gray's tenancy.
+
+Between the bedroom and the sitting-room was a small dark room,
+containing a bath, a table for washing-up, knives and forks in a basket,
+teacups and saucers.
+
+'The pantry,' said Elsie, 'and the scullery, and the house-maid's
+closet, all together. Oh! beautiful! And to think that men live in such
+dens--and sleep there contentedly night after night in this lonely,
+ghostly old place. Horrible! 'A rattling behind the wainscoting warned
+her that ghosts can show themselves even in the daytime. She shuddered,
+and retreated to the sitting-room. Here she took a book and sat by the
+open window, heedless of the fact that she could be seen by anyone from
+the Square.
+
+It was seven o'clock before Mr. Edmund Gray arrived. 'Ah! child,' he
+cried tenderly, 'you are here before me. I was delayed--some business.
+What was it? Pshaw! I forget everything. Never mind--I am here; and
+before we take a cab, I want you once more to go through with me the
+points of my new Catechism. Now, if you are ready.'
+
+'Quite ready, Master.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At half-past seven Checkley arrived at his corner and took a preliminary
+survey of the Square. 'There he is,' said the Policeman. 'There he is
+again,' said two laundresses conversing on a doorstep. 'There he is as
+usual,' said the newspaper man. 'Now,' asked all in chorus, 'what's he
+want there?'
+
+Mr. Checkley looked out from his corner, saw no one in the Square, and
+retreated into his passage. Then he looked out again, and retreated
+again. If anyone passed through the passage, Checkley was always walking
+off with great resolution in the opposite direction.
+
+Presently, in one of his stealthy peerings, he happened to look up. Then
+he started--he shaded his eyes: he looked his hardest. Yes, at the open
+window, freely displayed, without the least attempt at concealment, he
+saw the head and face of Miss Elsie Arundel. There! There! What more was
+necessary? Edmund Gray was Athelstan Arundel, or George Austin, or
+both--and Elsie Arundel was an accomplice after the act. There! There!
+He retreated to the seclusion of the passage and rubbed his hands. This
+would please Sir Samuel. He should hear it that very night. This ought
+to please him very much, because it made things so clear at last. There
+she was--up-stairs, in the Chambers of Mr. Edmund Gray--in the very
+room! There! There! There!
+
+Perhaps he was mistaken. But his sight was very good--for distant
+things. In reading a newspaper he might make mistakes, because he was
+one of those elderly persons who enjoy their newspaper most when they
+can nail it upon the wall and sit down to read it from the other side of
+a large room. He looked up again. The setting sun shining on the window
+of the side where he stood--the eastern side was reflected upon the
+windows of No. 22--Elsie's shapely head--she had taken off her hat--was
+bathed in the reflected sunshine. No doubt about her at all. There she
+was. There! There! There! The old man was fain to take a walk up Verulam
+Buildings and back again, to disguise his delight at this discovery. He
+walked chuckling and cracking his fingers, so that those who saw
+him--but there are not many in Raymond's Buildings on an August
+evening--thought that he must be either a little mad or a little drunk
+or a little foolish. But nobody much regards the actions of an ancient
+man. It is only the respect of his grandchildren or the thought of his
+possessions that gives him importance. Only the strong are regarded, and
+an old man who looks poor gets no credit even for foolishness and silly
+chuckles. Then Checkley went back to his corner. Oh! what was that? He
+rubbed his eyes again. He turned pale: he staggered: he caught at the
+door-posts. What was that? He shaded his eyes and looked again--bent and
+trembling and shaking all over. Said the Policeman: 'Looks as if he's
+going to get 'em again.' Said the laundresses: 'He looks as if he'd seen
+a ghost.' The newspaper boy stepped half-way across the Square. 'He's
+looking at Mr. Edmund Gray and the young lady. Jealous--p'raps--knows
+the young lady--wouldn't have believed it prob'ly.'
+
+Yes--Checkley was looking at that window. No doubt of that at all. He
+was not able to disguise his astonishment: he no longer pretended to
+hide himself. For he saw, sitting in the window, the young lady whom he
+believed to be an accomplice in the crime; and standing over her, with
+an expression of fatherly affection, was none other than Mr. Dering
+himself.
+
+Yes-- Mr. Dering. Most wonderful! What did it mean? Had Mr. Dering
+resolved to clear up the mystery of Edmund Gray? Had he penetrated the
+Chambers and found there--not Edmund Gray--but Elsie Arundel?
+
+'My friend,' said the Policeman, standing before him so that the view of
+the window was intercepted, 'you seem interested over the way.'
+
+'I am. I am. Oh! yes. Much interested.'
+
+'Well--don't you think you've looked at that old gentleman long enough?
+Perhaps he wouldn't like so much looking at. There's a young lady, too.
+It isn't manners to be staring at a young lady like a stuck pig.'
+
+'No--no, Policeman-- I've seen enough--thank you.'
+
+'And, still talking in a friendly way, do you think Mr. Edmund Gray over
+there would like it if he knew there was a detective or a spy watching
+every evening on the other side of the Square? What's the little game,
+guv'nor? Anything in our line? Not with that most respectable old
+gentleman, I do hope--though sometimes---- Well--what is it? Because we
+can't have you goin' on as you have a been goin' on, you know.'
+
+'Policeman'--Checkley pulled him aside and pointed to the little group
+at the window--'you see that old gentleman there--do you know him?'
+
+'Certainly. Known him ever since I came to the Inn--two years ago. The
+people of the Inn have known him for ten years, I believe. That's Mr.
+Edmund Gray. He's not one of the regular residents, and he hasn't got an
+office. Comes here now and then when he fancies the place--Mr. Edmund
+Gray, that is. I wish all the gentlemen in the Inn were half as liberal
+as he is.'
+
+'Oh! it's impossible! Say it again, Policeman. Perhaps I'm a little
+deaf--I'm very old, you know--a little deaf perhaps. Say it again.'
+
+'What's the matter with the man?' For he was shaking violently, and his
+eyes stared. 'Of course that is Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+'What does the girl do with him? Why are they both there together?'
+
+'How should I know why she calls upon him? She's a young lady, and a
+sweet young thing too. He's her grandfather likely.'
+
+Checkley groaned.
+
+'I must go somewhere and think this out,' he said. 'Excuse me,
+Policeman. I am an old man, and--and-- I've had a bit of a shock and----
+Good-evening, Policeman.' He shaded his eyes again and looked up.
+Yes--there they were, talking. Then Elsie rose and he saw her putting on
+her hat. Then she retreated up the room. But still he stood watching.
+
+'Not had enough yet, guv'nor?' asked the Policeman.
+
+'Only a minute. I want to see her go out.--Yes--there they are--going
+out together. It is, after all---- Oh! there is no mistake.'
+
+'There is no mistake, guv'nor,' said the Policeman. 'There goes Mr.
+Edmund Gray, and there goes that sweet young thing along of him.--Ah!
+there's many advantages about being a gentleman. No mistake, I say,
+about them two.--Now, old man, you look as if you'd had a surprise.
+Hadn't you better go home and take a drop of something?'
+
+It was earlier than Checkley generally went to the _Salutation_. But he
+delayed no longer. He tottered across the Square, showing very much of
+extreme feebleness, looking neither to the right nor to the left, his
+cheek white, his eyes rolling. The people looked after him, expecting
+that he would fall. But he did not. He turned into the tavern, hobbled
+along the passage, and sank into an arm-chair in the parlour.
+
+'Good gracious, Mr. Checkley!' cried the barmaid as he passed, 'whatever
+is the matter?'
+
+Some of the usual company were already assembled, although it was as yet
+hardly eight. The money-lender was there, sitting in his corner, taking
+his tobacco and his grog in silence. The decayed Barrister was there,
+his glass of old and mild before him, reading the morning newspaper. The
+ex-M.P. was there. When Checkley tumbled into the room, they looked up
+in surprise. When he gazed about him wildly and gasped, they were
+astonished, for he seemed like unto one about to have a fit.
+
+'Give me something, Robert--give me something,' he cried.
+'Quick--something strong. I'll have it short. Quick--quick!'
+
+Robert brought him a small glass of brandy, which he swallowed hastily.
+
+'Oh!' he groaned, sitting up, 'I've seen-- I've seen----'
+
+'You look as if you had seen a ghost,' said the barmaid, who had come
+along with a glass of water. 'Shall I bathe your forehead?'
+
+'No--no. I am better now--I am all right again.--Gentlemen'--he looked
+round the room solemnly--'I've seen this evening a good man--an old
+man--a great man--a rich man; gentlemen, wrecked and cast away and
+destroyed and ruined. With a little devil of a woman to laugh at him!'
+
+'They don't generally laugh at the men when they are ruined,' said Mr.
+Langhorne. 'They laugh while they are ruining them. It's fun to them. So
+it is to the men. Great fun it is while it lasts. I daresay the little
+woman won't really laugh at him. In my case----'
+
+His case was left untold, because he stopped and buried his head in his
+newspaper.
+
+Then Shylock spoke. He removed his pipe from his lips and spoke, moved,
+after his kind, by the mention of the words wreck and ruin, just as the
+vulture pricks up its feathers at the word death.
+
+'To see a rich man wrecked and ruined, Mr. Checkley, is a thing which a
+man may see every day. The thing is not to lose by their wreck--to make
+money out of it. Rich men are always being wrecked and ruined. What else
+can you expect if men refuse to pay their interest and to meet their
+bills? The melancholy thing--ah! the real sadness--is the ruin of a man
+who has trusted his fellow creatures and got taken in for his pains.
+Only this morning I find that I've been let in by a swindler--a common
+swindler, gentlemen--who comes round and says he can't pay up--can't pay
+up--and I'm welcome to the sticks.--Which kind of man might your friend
+be, Mr. Checkley, the man who's trusted his neighbour and got left--or
+the neighbour who's ramped the man that trusted him?'
+
+'It isn't money at all,' Checkley replied.
+
+'Then, sir, if it isn't money,' said the money-lender, 'I don't know why
+you come in frightening this honourable company out of their wits. If it
+isn't money, how the devil can the gentleman be wrecked and ruined?'
+
+For two hours Mr. Checkley sat in silence, evidently not listening to
+what was said. Then he turned to Mr. Langhorne the Barrister: 'You've
+known Mr. Edmund Gray a long time, I believe?'
+
+'Nine years--ten years--since he came to the Inn.'
+
+'Always the same man, I suppose?' said Checkley. 'Never another man--not
+sometimes a young man--or two young men--one rather a tall young man,
+looks as if the world was all his--supercilious beast?'
+
+'Never more than one man at once,' replied the Barrister with a show of
+forensic keenness. 'He might have been two young men rolled into one;
+but not to my knowledge: always the same man to look at, so far as I
+know--and the same man to talk with.'
+
+'Oh! yes--yes. There's no hope left--none. He's ruined and lost and cast
+away and done for.'
+
+He rose and walked out. The company looked after him and shook their
+heads. Then they drew their chairs a little closer, and the gap made by
+his departure vanished.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+THE DAY AFTER THE GHOST
+
+
+When Mr. Dering arrived at his office next morning he observed that his
+table had not been arranged for him. Imagine the surprise of the
+housewife should she come down to breakfast and find the ham and the
+toast and the tea placed upon the table without the decent cloth! With
+such eyes did Mr. Dering gaze upon the pile of yesterday's letters lying
+upon his blotting-pad, the pens in disorder, the papers heaped about
+anyhow, the dust of yesterday everywhere. Such a thing had never
+happened before in his whole experience of fifty-five years. He touched
+his bell sharply.
+
+'Why,' he asked, hanging up his coat without turning round, 'why is not
+my table put in order?' He turned and saw his clerk standing at the open
+door.--'Good Heavens! Checkley, what is the matter?'
+
+For the ancient servitor stood with drooping head and melancholy face
+and bent shoulders. His hands hung down in the attitude of one who waits
+to serve. But he did not serve. He stood still and he made no reply.
+
+He understood now. Since the apparition of South Square he had had time
+to reflect. He now understood the whole business from the beginning to
+the end. One hand there was, and only one, concerned with the case. Now
+he understood the meaning of the frequent fits of abstraction, the long
+silences, this strange forgetfulness which made his master mix up days
+and hours, and caused him to wonder what he had done and where he had
+been on this and that evening. And somebody else knew. The girl knew.
+She had told her lover. She had told her brother. That was why the new
+Partner laughed and defied them. It was on his charge that young Arundel
+had been forced to leave the country. It was he who declared that he had
+seen him place the stolen notes in the safe. It was he who had charged
+young Austin and whispered suspicions into the mind of Sir Samuel. Now
+the truth would come out, and they would all turn upon him, and his
+master would have to be told. Who would tell him? How could they tell
+him? Yet he must be told. And what would be done to the jealous servant?
+And how could the old lawyer, with such a knowledge about himself,
+continue to work at his office? All was finished. He would be sent about
+his business. His master would go home and stay there--with an
+attendant. How could he continue to live without his work to do? What
+would he do all day? With whom would he talk? Everything finished and
+done with. Everything----
+
+He stood, therefore, stricken dumb, humble, waiting for reproof.
+
+'Are you ill, Checkley? asked Mr. Dering. 'You look ill. What is the
+matter?
+
+'I am not ill,' he replied in a hollow voice, with a dismal shake of the
+head. 'I am not exactly ill. Yes, I am ill. I tried to put your table in
+order for you this morning, but I couldn't, I really couldn't. I feel as
+if I couldn't never do anything for you--never again. After sixty years'
+service, it's hard to feel like that.'
+
+He moved to the table and began mechanically laying the papers straight.
+
+'No one has touched your table but me for sixty years. It's hard to
+think that another hand will do this for you--and do it quite as well,
+you'll think. That's what we get for faithful service.' He put the
+papers all wrong, because his old eyes were dimmed with unaccustomed
+moisture. Checkley had long since ceased to weep over the sorrows of
+others, even in the most moving situations, when, for instance, he
+himself carried off the sticks instead of the rent. But no man is so old
+that he cannot weep over his own misfortunes. Checkley's eye was
+therefore dimmed with the tear of Compassion, which is the sister of
+Charity.
+
+'I do not understand you this morning, Checkley. Have you had any
+unpleasantness with Mr. Austin--with any of the people?'
+
+'No--no. Only that I had better go before I am turned out. That's all.
+That's all'--he repeated the words in despair. 'Nothing but that.'
+
+'Who is going to turn you out? What do you mean, Checkley? What the
+devil do you mean by going on like this? Am I not master here? Who can
+turn you out?'
+
+'You can, sir, and you will--and I'd rather, if you'll excuse the
+liberty, go out of my own accord. I'm a small man--only a very small
+man--but, thank God! I've got enough to give me a crust of bread and
+cheese to live upon.'
+
+'I tell you what, Checkley: you had better go home and lie down and rest
+a little. You are upset. Now, at our age we can't afford to be upset. Go
+home, and be easy. Old friends don't part quite so easily as you think.'
+Mr. Dering spoke kindly and gently. One must be patient with so old a
+servant.
+
+Checkley sobbed and choked. Like a child he sobbed. Like a child of
+four, Checkley choked and sniffed. 'You don't understand,' he said. 'Oh,
+no--you can't understand. It's what I saw last night.'
+
+'This is very wonderful. What did you see? A ghost?'
+
+'Worse than a ghost--who cares for a ghost? Ghosts can't turn a man out
+of his place and bring him to be a laughingstock. No--no. It was a man
+that I saw, not a ghost.'
+
+'If you can find it possible to talk reasonably'--Mr. Dering took his
+chair and tore open an envelope--'when you can find it possible to talk
+reasonably, I will listen. Meantime, I really think that you had better
+go home and lie down for an hour or two. Your nerves are shaken; you
+hardly know what you are saying.'
+
+'I was in Gray's Inn yesterday evening. By accident, at eight.' He spoke
+in gasps, watching his master curiously. 'By accident--not spying.
+No--by accident. On my way to my club--at the _Salutation_. Walking
+through South Square. Not thinking of anything. Looking about
+me--careless-like.'
+
+'South Square, Gray's Inn. That is the place where the man Edmund Gray
+lives: the man we want to find and cannot find.'
+
+'Oh! Lord! Lord!' exclaimed the clerk. 'Is it possible?' He lifted his
+hand and raised his eyes to heaven and groaned. Then he resumed his
+narrative.
+
+'Coming through the passage, I looked up to the windows of No. 22--Mr.
+Edmund Gray's Chambers, you know.'
+
+'I believe so.' Mr. Dering's face betrayed no emotion at all. 'Go on; I
+am told so.'
+
+'In the window I saw Mr. Edmund Gray himself--himself.'
+
+'Curious. You have seen him--but why not?'
+
+'The man we've all been so anxious to find. The man who endorsed the
+cheque and wrote the letters and got the papers--there he was!'
+
+'Question of identity. How did you know him, since you had never seen
+him before?'
+
+This question Checkley shirked.
+
+'He came down-stairs five minutes afterwards, while I was still looking
+up at the windows. Came down-stairs, and walked out of the Square--made
+as if he was going out by way of Raymond's Buildings--much as if he
+might be going to Bedford Row.'
+
+'These details are unimportant. Again--how did you know him?'
+
+'I asked the Policeman who the gentleman was. He said it was Mr. Edmund
+Gray. I asked the newspaper boy at the Holborn entrance. He said it was
+Mr. Edmund Gray, and that everybody knew him.'
+
+'So everybody knows him. Well, Checkley, I see nothing so very
+remarkable about your seeing a man so well known in the Inn. It adds
+nothing to our knowledge. That he exists, we know already. What share,
+if any, he has had in this case of ours remains still a mystery. Unless,
+that is, you have found out something else.'
+
+Checkley gazed upon his master with a kind of stupor. 'No--no,' he
+murmured. 'I can't.'
+
+'What did you do, when you found out that it was the man?'
+
+'Nothing.'
+
+'You did nothing. Well--under the circumstances I don't know what you
+could have done.'
+
+'And he walked away.'
+
+'Oh! He walked away. Very important indeed.--But, Checkley, this story
+does not in the least account for your strange agitation this morning.
+Have you anything more to tell me? I see that you have, but you seem to
+experience more than usual difficulty in getting it out.'
+
+The clerk hesitated. 'Do you,' he asked at last--'do you--happen--to
+know Gray's Inn?'
+
+'I daresay I have been there--years ago. Why?'
+
+'Oh! you haven't been there lately, have you?'
+
+'Not lately--not for forty years, or some such inconsiderable period.
+Why?'
+
+'I thought you might yourself have met Mr. Edmund Gray--been to his
+Chambers, perhaps.'
+
+Mr. Dering sat upright and laid his hand upon his letters. 'Checkley,'
+he said, 'I am always willing to make allowance for people in mental
+distress, but I think I have made allowance enough. Come to the point.
+Have you lost any money?'
+
+'No--no; not so bad as that--but bad enough. No, I couldn't afford to
+lose money. I haven't got enough to spare any. But I got a shock--a kind
+of stroke--partly because of the man I met, and partly because of the
+person with him.'
+
+'Oh! who was that? Are we arriving at something?'
+
+'I hadn't told you that. The person who was sitting at the open window
+with him, who came down-stairs with him, and walked out of the Square
+with him, was no other than your own ward, Miss Elsie Arundel herself!'
+
+'Oh! why not?' asked Mr. Dering carelessly. 'She told me yesterday, was
+it? that she knows him.'
+
+'If it had been anyone else she was with,' he replied, mixing up his
+grammar--'if it had been anyone else who was with her--I wouldn't have
+been surprised! But to see the two together. That gave me a turn that I
+can't get over.'
+
+'Still--why not? Miss Elsie Arundel has already told me that she is
+acquainted with Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+'What? She has told you--she has actually told you? Oh! what has she
+told you? Oh! Lord! Lord! What is a man to say or to do? She told
+you--what is best to do?' He wrung his hands in his distress and his
+perplexity.
+
+'I cannot understand, Checkley,' said Mr. Dering with emphasis, 'the
+reason for this display of excitement. Why should she not tell me or
+anybody else? Do you suppose that my ward is doing anything clandestine?
+She has told me that she is acquainted with this man. She asserts
+further--that we have made a great mistake about him. What she means, I
+cannot understand. She says, in fact, that this gentleman is a perfectly
+honourable person. It is possible that he has deceived her. It is also
+possible that the name of Edmund Gray has been wrongfully used in the
+papers which belong to the case. Certainly it was an Edmund Gray who
+endorsed the first cheque; and an Edmund Gray having an address at 22
+South Square whose name is connected with the later business. Well, we
+shall see presently.--When do you take out the warrant for the arrest
+of this man? By the way, Elsie Arundel implores me not to allow that
+step. When are you going to do it?'
+
+'This morning, I was going to do it. Everything is ready--but----'
+
+'But what?'
+
+'I can't do it now.'
+
+'The man is clean gone off his head.'
+
+'Leave it till to-morrow--only to-morrow, or Monday. Before then,
+something is certain to turn up. Oh! certain sure it is. Something must
+turn up.'
+
+'There is certainly something that you are keeping behind, Checkley.
+Well--wait till Monday. To-day is Saturday. He can't do very much
+mischief between this and Monday.--That's enough about Edmund Gray. Now,
+here is another point, to which I want a direct answer from you. My
+brother asserts, I believe on your authority, that Athelstan Arundel has
+been living in a low and profligate manner in some London suburb, and
+that he was in rags and poverty early this year. What is your authority
+for this?'
+
+'Why, I heard him confess--or not deny--that he'd been living in
+Camberwell in bad company. It was at the _Salutation_ I heard it. He
+didn't see me. I'd got my head behind a paper. He never denied it.'
+
+'Humph!--And about the rags?'
+
+'I don't know anything about the rags.'
+
+'Very likely there is as much foundation for the one charge as for the
+other. Three or four years ago, he was in America, to my knowledge. He
+wrote to me from America. I now learn, on the authority of his sister,
+that he only came back a month ago, and that he has been and is still in
+the service of an American paper. What have you got to say to that?'
+
+'Nothing. I don't feel as if I could say anything. It's all turned upsy
+down. That won't do, I suppose, no more than the rest.'
+
+'But, my friend, if that is true, your theory of conspiracy and
+confederacy, which you took so much pains to build up, falls to the
+ground as far as Athelstan is concerned.'
+
+'Yes.-- Oh! I haven't nothing to say.' It was a mark of the trouble
+which possessed him that his language reverted to that of his young
+days, before he had learned the art of correct speech from the copying
+of legal documents. He preserved the same attitude with bent head and
+hanging hands, a sad and pitiful object.
+
+'Since Athelstan was not in London during the months of March and April,
+he could have had no hand in the later forgeries. And it is acknowledged
+that the same hand was concerned both in the earlier and the later
+business.'
+
+'Yes--yes--the same hand. Oh! yes--the same hand,' he repeated with
+pathos unintelligible to his master. 'The same hand--the same hand;
+yes--yes--the same hand--that's the devil of it--same hand done it all.'
+
+'Then what becomes of your charge against my young Partner? You were
+extremely fierce about it. So was my brother. You had no proofs--nor had
+he. If the same hand was in both forgeries, it could not have been the
+hand of George Austin. What do you say to that?'
+
+'Nothing. I'm never going'--still standing hands hanging--'to say
+anything again as long as I live.'
+
+'But you were very fierce about it, Checkley. You must either find more
+proofs or withdraw your accusation.'
+
+'Oh! if that's all, I withdraw-- I withdraw everything.'
+
+'Why did you bring that charge then, Checkley? You've been making
+yourself very busy over the character of my Partner. You have permitted
+yourself to say things in the office before the clerks about him. If it
+turns out that he has had nothing to do with the business, you will be
+in a very serious position.'
+
+'I withdraw-- I withdraw everything,' the old clerk replied, but not
+meekly. He was prepared to withdraw, but only because he was forced.
+
+'Remember, too, that it was you who brought the charge against young
+Arundel.'
+
+'I withdraw-- I withdraw everything.'
+
+'You went so far as to remember--the other day--having seen him replace
+the notes in the safe. What do you say to that?'
+
+'I withdraw.'
+
+'But it was a direct statement--the testimony of an eyewitness. Was it
+true or not?--I don't know you this morning, Checkley. First, you appear
+shaking and trembling: then you tell me things which seem in no way to
+warrant so much agitation. Next, you withdraw an accusation which ought
+never to have been made except with the strongest proof. And now you
+wish to withdraw an alleged fact.'
+
+Checkley shook his head helplessly.
+
+'I acknowledge that the business remains as mysterious as before.
+Nothing has been found out. But there remains an evident and savage
+animosity on your part towards two young gentlemen in succession. Why?
+What have they done to you?'
+
+Checkley made reply in bold words, but still standing with hanging
+hands: 'I withdraw the animosity. I withdraw everything. As for young
+Arundel, he was a supercilious beast. We were dirt beneath his feet. The
+whole earth belonged to him. He used to imitate my ways of speaking, and
+he used to make the clerks laugh at me. I hated him then. I hate him
+still. It was fun to him that an old man, nigh seventy, with no
+education, shouldn't speak like a young gentleman of Oxford and
+Cambridge College. He used to stick his hat on the back of his head as
+if it was a crown, and he'd slam the door after him as if he was a
+Partner. I hated him. I was never so glad as when he ran away in a rage.
+He was coming between you and me, too.--Oh! I saw it. Cunning he was.
+Laying his lines for to come between you and me.'
+
+'Why--you were jealous, Checkley.'
+
+'I was glad when he ran away. And I always thought he'd done it, too. As
+for seeing him put the cheque back in the safe, I perceive now that I
+never did see him do it. Yet I seemed to think at the time that I'd
+remembered seeing him do a kind of a sort of a something like it. I now
+perceive that I was wrong. He never done it. He hadn't the wits to
+contrive it. That sort is never half sharp. Too fine gentleman for such
+a trick.--Oh! I know what you are going to say next. How about the
+second young fellow? I hate him too. I hate him because he's the same
+supercilious beast as the other, and because he's been able to get round
+you. He's carneyed you--no fool like an old fool--and flattered
+you--till you've made him a Partner. I've worked for you heart and soul
+for sixty years and more, and this boy comes in and cuts me out in a
+twelvemonth.'
+
+'Well! but Checkley--hang it!--I couldn't make you a Partner.'
+
+'You didn't want no Partners. You could do your work, and I could do
+mine and yours too, even if you did want to go asleep of an afternoon.'
+
+'This is grave, however. You hated Mr. Austin, and therefore you bring
+against him this foul charge. This is very grave, Checkley.'
+
+'No-- I thought he was guilty. I did, indeed. Everything pointed that
+way. And I don't understand about young Arundel, because he came into
+the _Salutation_ with the Cambridge gentleman who gets drunk there every
+night, and he said that he lived at Camberwell for eight years with bad
+company as I wouldn't name to you, sir. I thought he was guilty. I did,
+indeed.'
+
+'And now?'
+
+'Oh! now it is all over. Everything's upsy down. Nobody's guilty. I know
+now that he hasn't had anything to do with it. He's a young man of very
+slow intelligence and inferior parts. He couldn't have had anything to
+do with it. We ought to have known that.'
+
+'Well--but who has done it, after all?'
+
+'That's it.' Checkley was so troubled that he dropped into a chair in
+the presence of his master. 'That's it. Who's done it? Don't you know
+who done it? No-- I see you don't so much as suspect. No more don't I.
+Else--what to do--what to say--Lord only knows!' He turned and ran--he
+scuttled out of the room, banging the door behind him.
+
+'He's mad,' said Mr. Dering. 'Poor man! Age makes some men forgetful,
+but it has driven Checkley mad.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+THE THREE ACCOMPLICES
+
+
+On that same evening the three accomplices--probably on the proceeds of
+their iniquities--were dining together at the _Savoy_. After dinner they
+sat on the verandah overlooking the river and the embankment. 'Tis
+sweet, what time the evening shades prevail, while one is still in the
+stage of physical comfort and mental peace attendant upon an artistic
+little banquet, to view from the serene heights of a balcony at that
+hotel the unquiet figures of those who flit backwards and forwards
+below. They--alas!--have not dined so well, or they could not walk so
+fast, or drag their limbs so hopelessly, or lean over the wall so sadly.
+
+Elsie leaned her head upon her hands, looking down upon this scene,
+though not quite with these thoughts. Young ladies who are quite happy,
+and are going to be married next week, do not make these comparisons.
+Happiness is selfish. When one is quite happy, everybody else seems
+quite happy too--even Lazarus and the leper. We must never be happy if
+we do not wish to be selfish.
+
+Coffee was on the table. Athelstan had a cigar. They were all three
+silent. During dinner they had talked gaily, because everybody knows
+that you cannot talk with strange people listening. After dinner they
+sat in silence, because it is only when the waiters are gone that one is
+free to talk.
+
+'Elsie,' said George presently, 'you have something to tell
+us--something you have discovered. For my own part, since I handed the
+case over to anybody else, I feel as if I were not interested in it. But
+still, one would like to know--just for curiosity's sake--when Checkley
+is to be "run in."'
+
+'Yes,' said Elsie, 'I must tell you. Perhaps I ought to have told you
+before. Yet there was a reason. Now--you will be greatly astonished,
+George.'
+
+'Before you begin, Elsie '--Athelstan removed his cigar--'I must tell
+you that yesterday evening I, too, made a discovery--what the Americans
+call a pivotal discovery--a discovery that discovers everything. I
+should have told you last night, but you announced your communications
+for this evening, and I thought we would expose our discoveries at the
+same time.'
+
+'You have found out too!' Elsie cried. 'I see by your face that you
+have. Well, Athelstan, so much the better. Now, tell your discovery
+first, and I will follow.'
+
+'It is this. I have discovered Edmund Gray. I have sat with him and
+discoursed with him, in Freddy Carstone's Chambers. He came in, sat
+beside me, and conversed for more than an hour.'
+
+'Oh!' said Elsie. 'Then you know all--as much as I know.'
+
+'Observe,' George interposed, 'that I know nothing as yet.'
+
+'Wait a moment, George. Learn that I have myself known Mr. Edmund Gray
+for a fortnight. You will think, perhaps, that I ought to have told you
+before. Well--but there is a reason--besides, the way, to begin with,
+did not lie quite clear before me. Now the time has come when you should
+advise as to the best course to follow.'
+
+'You have certainly been more mysterious than any oracle, Elsie. Yet you
+will bear witness, if it comes to bearing witness, that I accepted your
+utterances and believed in them.'
+
+'You certainly did, George.--And now, Athelstan, tell him the whole.'
+
+'In one word then--Edmund Gray, the man we have been looking after so
+long, is none other than Edward Dering, of 12 New Square, Lincoln's Inn,
+Solicitor.'
+
+'I don't understand,' said George, bewildered. 'Say it all again.'
+
+Athelstan repeated his words.
+
+'That is my discovery, too,' said Elsie. 'Now you know all, as you
+understand.'
+
+'But I don't understand. How can one man be another man?'
+
+'I sat beside one man,' Athelstan added, 'for an hour and more; and lo!
+all the time he was another man.'
+
+'And still I am fogged. What does it mean?'
+
+'It means, George, what you would never suspect. The one man received me
+as a stranger. He knew nothing about me: he had never heard my name,
+even. Yet the other man knows me so well. It was very odd at first. I
+felt as if I was talking to a sleep-walker.'
+
+'Oh!' cried George, 'I know now. You have seen Mr. Dering in a kind of
+sleep-walking state-- I too have seen him thus. But he said nothing.'
+
+'You may call it sleep-walking if you like. But, George, there is
+another and a more scientific name for it. The old man is mad. He has
+fits of madness, during which he plays another part, under another name.
+Now, do you understand?'
+
+'Yes--but--is it possible?'
+
+'It is more than possible; it is an actual certainty. Wait. Let Elsie
+tell her story.'
+
+Then Elsie began, with a little air of triumph, because it is not given
+to every young lady to find out what all the men have failed to find.
+
+'Well--you see--I was always thinking over this business, and wondering
+why nothing was found out about it, and watching you look this way and
+that, and it occurred to me that the first thing of all was to find out
+this Mr. Edmund Gray and lay hands upon him. At first I thought I would
+just go and stand outside his door all day long and every day until he
+came. But that seemed a waste of time. So I remembered how you found his
+door open, and went in and spoke to the laundress. I thought that I
+would do the same thing, and sit down there and wait until he should
+come. But I was afraid to sit in the rooms of a strange man all
+alone--no, I could not do it. So I just found out the old woman--the
+laundress--as you did, George, and I gave her money, and she told me
+that Mr. Gray was at his Chambers almost every Saturday afternoon. Very
+well; if anybody chose to wait for him all Saturday afternoon, he would
+certainly be found. So on Saturday afternoon I took a cab and drove to
+Holborn, and got to the place before his arrival. But again, as it was
+not quite nice to stand at an open doorway in a public Square, I thought
+I would wait on the stairs. So I mounted--the doors were all
+closed--nobody was left in the place at all--I thought I should be
+perfectly safe and undisturbed, when I heard the noise of footsteps
+overhead--a tramp, tramp, tramp up and down, with every now and then a
+groan--like a hungry creature in a cage. This kept on for a long time,
+and frightened me horribly. I was still more frightened when a door
+overhead opened and shut and the footsteps came down-stairs. They
+belonged to a man--an elderly man--who seemed as much frightened at
+seeing me as I was at seeing him. He asked me whether I wanted any one;
+and when I said I wanted Mr. Edmund Gray, he said that he was a friend
+of Mr. Gray's, and that, since I was a friend too, I might act for
+Edmund Gray and lend him some money. He looked desperately poor and
+horribly hungry and thin and shabby, the poor old man!'
+
+'So you acted for Edmund Gray. That was old Langhorne. He is a
+barrister, who lives in the garret, and is horribly down on his
+luck.--Go on.'
+
+'Poor Elsie!' said George. 'Think of her, all alone on the staircase!'
+
+'When he was gone, there was no sound at all. The place was perfectly
+quiet. The time passed so slowly--oh! so slowly. At last, however, I
+heard a step. It came up the stairs. Oh! my heart began to beat. Suppose
+it should be Mr. Edmund Gray. Suppose it was some other person. Suppose
+it was some horror of a man! But I had not long to wait, because Mr.
+Edmund Gray himself stood on the landing. He stared at me, rather
+surprised to find a young lady on the stairs, but he showed no sign of
+recognition whatever. I was a complete stranger to him.'
+
+'And was the man Mr. Dering?'
+
+'He was--Mr. Dering. There was just the least little change in him. He
+wore his coat open instead of buttoned. He had no gloves, his hat was
+not pulled over his eyes, and his face was somehow lighter and brighter
+than usual.'
+
+'That is so,' said Athelstan. 'Exactly with these little changes he
+presented himself to me.'
+
+'Perhaps there is another man in the world exactly like him.'
+
+'Futile remark!--Go on, Elsie.'
+
+'Then I guessed in a moment what it meant. I stepped forward and asked
+him if he was Mr. Edmund Gray. And then I followed him into his
+rooms.--George, there is no manner of doubt whatever. Mr. Dering has
+periods, whether regular or not I cannot tell, when he loses himself and
+becomes in imagination another man. He is mad, if you like, but there is
+method in his madness. The other man is just himself turned inside out.
+Mr. Dering believes in the possible wickedness of everybody: the other
+man believes in the actual goodness of every man. Mr. Dering considers
+Property the only stable foundation of Society: the other man considers
+Property the root of all evil. Mr. Dering is hard and jealous: the other
+man is full of geniality and benevolence. Mr. Dering is Justice: the
+other man is Mercy.'
+
+'Very neatly put, Elsie. There is quite an eighteenth-century balance
+about your sentences and sentiments. So far'--Athelstan contributed his
+confirmation--'so far as I could judge, nothing could be more true. I
+found my man the exact opposite of himself.'
+
+'Can such a thing be possible? If I were to speak to him, would he not
+know me?'
+
+'You forget, George. You have seen him in that condition, and he did not
+know you.'
+
+'Nothing is more common'--Athelstan the Journalist began to draw upon
+the encyclopædic memory which belongs to his profession--'than such a
+forgetfulness of self. Have you ever been into a Lunatic Asylum? I
+have--for professional purposes. I have discoursed with the patients,
+and been instructed by the physicians. Half the time many of the
+patients are perfectly rational: during the other half they seem to
+assume another mind with other memories. It is not real possession, as
+the ancients called it, because they never show knowledge other than
+what they have learned before. Thus, a sane man who cannot draw would
+never in insanity become an artist. So Mr. Dering, when he is mad,
+brings the same logical power and skill to bear upon a different set of
+maxims and opinions. Said a physician to me at this asylum of which I
+speak: "There are thousands of men and women, but especially men, who
+are mad every now and then, and don't know it. Most of the crimes are, I
+believe, committed in moments of madness. A young fellow steals
+money--it is because at the moment he is so mad that he even persuades
+himself that borrowing is not stealing: that he is only borrowing: that
+he can get it back, and put it back before it is found out. What is
+uncontrollable rage but sudden madness? There are the men who know that
+they are mad on some point or other, and cunningly hide it, and are
+never found out. And there are the men who are mad and don't know it. In
+their mad times they commit all kinds of extravagances and follies, yet
+somehow they escape detection." So he talked; and he told me of a man
+who was a lawyer in one town with a wife and family, and also a lawyer
+in another with a different wife and family. But one lawyer never found
+out the other; and the thing was only discovered when the man got a
+paralytic stroke and died in a kind of bewilderment, because, when the
+time came for him to be the other man, he found himself lying in a
+strange bedroom with a strange family round him. I had long forgotten
+the asylum. I did the place for my paper three or four years ago, and
+scored by the description. Since last night I have been recalling my
+experience and applying it. You see there can never be any physical
+change. This is no Hyde and Jekyll business. Whatever happens must be
+conducted with the same body and the same mind. The same processes of
+mind in which the man is trained remain, but his madness requires a new
+setting.'
+
+'One cannot understand,' said Elsie.
+
+'No. But then one cannot understand everything. That's the real beauty
+of this world: we are planted in the midst of things: we can give names
+to them--Adam began that way, didn't he?--but we can't understand any of
+them; and most people think that when we have given a name we have
+succeeded in understanding. Well, Elsie--we don't understand. But we may
+find out something. I take it that the other man grew up by degrees in
+his brain, so that there is no solution in the continuity of thought and
+recollection. The Edmund Gray developed himself. He has been developed
+for nearly ten years, since he has occupied the same Chambers all the
+time.'
+
+'But about the forgeries?' George sprang to his feet. 'I declare,' he
+cried, 'that I had quite forgotten the real bearing on our case.'
+
+'Edmund Gray,' said Elsie, 'says that his own lawyer who manages his
+affairs is Edward Dering. If he were to write letters while Edmund Gray,
+he would not impose upon Edward Dering.'
+
+'He cannot write to two men,' said Athelstan. 'There must be a
+border-land between the waking and the dreaming, when the two spirits of
+Edmund Gray and Edward Dering contend for the mastery, or when they
+command each other--when Edmund Gray endorses cheques and Edward Dering
+writes letters and conducts transfers for his client--his
+double--himself.'
+
+'I have seen him in such a state,' said George. 'At the time I never
+suspected anything but a passing trouble of mind, which caused him to be
+so wrapped up in his thoughts as not to be able to distinguish anything.
+He was then, I doubt not now, carrying out the instructions of Edmund
+Gray, or he was Edmund Gray acting for himself. Checkley whispered not
+to disturb him. He said that he had often seen him so.'
+
+'I have never tried to understand,' said Elsie. 'But I saw that Edmund
+Gray was Mr. Dering gone mad, and that he himself, and nobody else, was
+the perpetrator of all these forgeries; and I have been trying to
+discover the best way--the kindest way to him--the surest way for us, of
+getting the truth known.--George, this is the secret of my mysterious
+movements. This is why I have not given you a single evening for a
+whole fortnight. Every evening--both Sundays--I have spent with this
+dear old man. He is the most delightful--the most gentle--the most
+generous--old man that you ever saw. He is full of ideas--oh! quite
+full--and they carry you out of yourself, until you awake next morning
+to find that they are a dream. I have fallen in love with him. I have
+had the most charming fortnight--only one was always rather afraid that
+he might come to himself, which would be awkward.'
+
+'Well, Elsie, have you found a way?'
+
+'I think I have. First, I have discovered that when he is surrounded
+with things that remind him of Edmund Gray, he remains Edmund Gray.
+Next, I have found out that I can, by talking to him even at his office,
+when he has his papers before him, turn him into Edmund Gray.'
+
+'You are a witch, Elsie.'
+
+'She is,' said George, looking at her in the foolish lover's way. 'You
+see what she has turned me into--a long time ago, and she has never
+turned me back again.'
+
+'I have been thinking too,' said Athelstan. 'For our purposes, it would
+be enough to prove the identity of Edmund Gray and Edward Dering. That
+explains the resemblance of the handwriting and of the endorsement. My
+commissionaire's recollection of the man also identifies the cheque as
+drawn by himself for himself under another name. It explains the
+presence of the notes in the safe. It also shows that the long series of
+letters which passed between him and the broker were written by himself
+for himself. Here, however, is a difficulty. I can understand Edward
+Dering believing himself to be Edmund Gray, because I have seen it. But
+I cannot understand Edward Dering believing himself to be the Solicitor
+to Edmund Gray and writing at his command.'
+
+'But I have seen him in that condition,' said Elsie. 'It was while he
+was changing from one to the other. He sat like one who listens. I think
+that Edmund Gray was at his elbow speaking to him. I think I could make
+him write a letter by instruction from Edmund Gray. That he should
+believe himself acting for a client in writing to the broker is no more
+wonderful than that he should believe himself another man altogether.'
+
+'Show me, if you can, the old man acting for an imaginary client.
+Meantime, I mentioned the point as a difficulty. Prove, however, to Mr.
+Dering and to the others concerned that he is Edmund Gray, and all is
+proved. And this we can do by a host of witnesses.'
+
+'I want more than this, Athelstan,' said Elsie. 'It would still be open
+to the enemy to declare that George, or you, or I, had made use of his
+madness for our own purposes. I want a history of the whole case written
+out by Edmund Gray himself--a thing that we can show to Mr. Dering and
+to everybody else. But I dread his discovery. Already he is suspicious
+and anxious. I sometimes think that he is half conscious of his
+condition. We must break it to him as gently as we can. But the shock
+may kill him. Yet there is no escape. If the forgeries were known only
+to ourselves, we might keep the discovery a secret; and only if
+necessary--but it would not be necessary--keep some sort of watch over
+him and warn the Bank. But Checkley has told the clerks and the people
+at the Bank, and there are ourselves to think of and my mother and
+Hilda.--No; we must let them all know.'
+
+'And if one may mention one's self,' said Athelstan, 'my own little
+difficulty presses. Because, you see, I don't know how long I may be
+kept here. Perhaps to-morrow I might go on to St. Petersburg or to
+Pekin. Before I go, Elsie, I confess that I should like my mother to
+understand that--that she was a little hasty--that is all.'
+
+'You are not going to St. Petersburg, brother.' Elsie took his hand.
+'You are not going to leave us anymore. You are going to stay. I have
+made another discovery.'
+
+'Pray, if one may ask----'
+
+'Oh! you may ask. I saw a letter to-day--Mr. Dering showed it to me. It
+was written from the States three or four years ago. It showed where you
+were at that time and showed me more, Athelstan--it showed me how you
+lost the pile of money that you made over that silver mine--you
+remember, Athelstan?'
+
+He made no reply.
+
+'Oh! do you think that I am going to accept this sacrifice? George, you
+do not know. The donor of that great sum of money which Mr. Dering held
+for me--we have often wondered who it was. I have only found out
+to-day--it was Athelstan. He gave me all he had for such a trifling
+thing--only because I would not believe that he was a villain--all he
+had in the world--and went out again into the cold. He said he dropped
+his money down a gully or a grating on the prairie--some nonsense. And
+he sent it all to me, George.--What shall we do?'
+
+'Is this really true, Athelstan? Did you really give up all this money
+to Elsie?'
+
+'She says so.'
+
+'It is quite true, George. I saw the letter--Mr. Dering showed it to
+me--in which he sent that money home, and begged Mr. Dering to take care
+of it, and to give it to me on the day when I should be one-and-twenty.
+He cannot deny it. Look at him. He blushes--he is ashamed--he hangs his
+head--he blows tobacco-smoke about in clouds, hoping to hide his red
+cheeks. And he talks of going on to St. Petersburg, when we know this
+secret, and have got the money! What do you call this conduct, George?'
+
+'Athelstan--there is no word for it. But you must have it back. You
+must, and shall. There can be no discussion about it. And there is not
+another man in the world, I believe, who would have done it.'
+
+'Nonsense. I should only have lost it, if I had kept it,' Athelstan
+replied after the Irish fashion.
+
+'You hear, Athelstan. It is yours. There can be no discussion. That's
+what I like a man for. While we women are all talking and disputing, the
+man puts down his foot and says: "There can be no discussion." Then we
+all stop, and the right thing is done. It is yours, brother; and you
+shall have it, and you shall stay at home with us always and always.'
+She laid her hand upon his shoulder, and her arm round his neck,
+caressing him with hand and voice.
+
+The man who had wandered alone for eight years was not accustomed to
+sisterly caresses. They moved him. The thing itself moved him.
+
+'All this belongs to another chapter,' he said huskily. 'We will talk of
+it afterwards, when the business in hand is despatched.
+
+'Well, then--that is agreed. You are to have your money back: my mother
+is to take her suspicions back: Mr. Dering is to have his certificates
+back and his dividends: Checkley is to take his lies back: Sir Samuel is
+to have his charges back: George and I are going to have our peace of
+mind back. And we are all going to live happy ever afterwards.'
+
+'As for Wednesday now,' said George. 'It is not an unimportant day for
+us, you know.'
+
+'Everything is ready. On Sunday morning my mother is always at home
+before Church. I will see her then, and acquaint her with the news that
+the wedding will take place as originally proposed, at her house. This
+will astonish her very much, and she will become angry and polite and
+sarcastic. Then I shall tell her to prepare not only for a wedding
+feast, but also for a great, a very great surprise. And I shall also
+inform her that I shall be given away by my brother. And then--then--if
+I know my mother aright, she will become silent. I shall do that
+to-morrow morning.--In the evening, George, you will get your best-man,
+and I will get your sisters, my bridesmaids, and we will come here, or
+go to Richmond or somewhere--and have dinner and a cheerful evening.--Am
+I arranging things properly?'
+
+'Quite properly. Pray go on.'
+
+'Sunday afternoon I have promised to spend with my master--Edmund Gray.
+He is going to read me a new Paper he has just finished, in which he
+shows that Property can be destroyed by a painless process--Athelstan,
+put all your money into your pocket and keep it there--in less than a
+twelvemonth, and with it all crime--all sweating, all injustice.--No,
+Athelstan, he is not mad. When he argues on this theme he is persuasive
+and eloquent. He convinces everybody. I shall hear him out, and then I
+shall try to make him write down all that has happened. If we can only
+get such a confession, it would be better than anything else. But it may
+be difficult. He does not like being questioned about himself. If I do
+succeed--I don't know quite what I ought to do next. He must be told.
+Some time or other he must have the truth. I thought of asking all the
+people mentioned to meet at his office on Monday morning at noon when
+Mr. Dering is always himself. On Sunday I would not. He has to address
+his people on Sunday evening. Let him do so undisturbed. I will leave
+him in happiness that one night longer. But you two--you will be
+anxious. Come on Sunday evening--between eight and nine--to the Hall of
+Science. Then you will hear him and see me. And I will let you know how
+I have prospered.'
+
+'Sunday evening,' said George. 'Monday comes next, then Tuesday, and
+before Wednesday, my Elsie, the character of these two convicts has to
+be completely whitewashed, even to the satisfaction of Hilda herself.
+Are we not running it pretty close?'
+
+'Unbeliever! Doubter! I tell you that you shall be married with all your
+friends round you, and that Athelstan shall give me away. And you shall
+go away on your holiday with a quiet heart and nothing to trouble you.
+What a foolish boy not to be able to trust his bride even for such a
+simple thing as getting a confession out of a madman!'
+
+'Do you sport a crest, old man?' asked Athelstan.
+
+'I believe there is some kind of a sort of a thing somewhere around. But
+crests are foolishness.'
+
+'Not always. Take a new one, George--a real one. Stamp it on your spoons
+and forks and in your books and on your carriage. Let it be simply the
+words, "Dux Femina Facti."'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+ELSIE AND HER MOTHER
+
+
+'Can you spare me a few minutes, mother?'
+
+Mrs. Arundel looked up from the desk where she was writing a letter, and
+saw her daughter standing before her. She started and changed colour,
+but quickly recovered, and replied coldly: 'I did not hear you come in,
+Elsie. What do you want with me?'
+
+Outside, the bells were ringing for Church: it was a quarter to eleven:
+Mrs. Arundel was already dressed for Church. She was one of those who do
+not see any incongruity between Church and a heart full of animosities.
+She was bitter against her daughter, and hard towards her son, and she
+hated her son-in-law elect with all the powers of her passionate nature.
+But, my brothers, what an array of bare benches should we see in every
+place of worship were those only admitted who came with hearts of
+charity and love!
+
+'Do you wish to keep me long, Elsie? If so, we will sit down. If not, I
+am ready for Church, and I do not like to arrive late. People in our
+position should show a good example.'
+
+'I do not think that I shall keep you very long. But if you sit down,
+you will be so much more comfortable.'
+
+'Comfort, Elsie, you have driven out of this house.'
+
+'I will bring it back with me, then. On Monday evening, mother, I am
+coming back.'
+
+'Oh! What do you mean, child? Has the blow really fallen? I heard that
+it was impending. Is the young man--is he--a prisoner?'
+
+'No, mother. You are quite mistaken. You have been mistaken all along.
+Yet I shall come back on Monday.'
+
+'Alone, then?'
+
+'I shall leave it to you whether I come back alone, or with the two men
+whom I most regard of all the world--my lover and my brother.'
+
+'You know my opinions, Elsie. There has been no change in them. There
+can be none.'
+
+'Wednesday is my wedding day.'
+
+'I am not interested in that event, Elsie. After your wedding with such
+a man, against the opinions, the wishes, the commands of all whom you
+are bound to respect, I can only say that you are no longer my
+daughter.'
+
+'Oh! How can you be so fixed in such a belief? Mother, let me make one
+more appeal to your better feelings. Throw off these suspicions. Believe
+me, they are baseless. There is not the shadow of a foundation for this
+ridiculous structure they have raised. Consider. It is now--how
+long?--three weeks since they brought this charge, and they have proved
+nothing--absolutely nothing. If you would only be brought to see on what
+false assumptions the whole thing rests.'
+
+'On solid foundations--hard facts--I want no more.'
+
+'If I could prove to you that Athelstan was in America until a month
+ago.'
+
+'Unhappy girl! He is deceiving you. He has been living for eight years
+in profligacy near London. Elsie, do not waste my time. It should be
+enough for me that my son-in-law, Sir Samuel Dering, a man of the
+clearest head and widest experience, is convinced that it is impossible
+to draw any other conclusions.'
+
+'It is enough for me,' Elsie rejoined quickly, 'that my heart tells me
+that my brother and my lover cannot be such creatures.'
+
+'You have something more to say, I suppose.' Mrs. Arundel buttoned her
+gloves. The clock was now at five minutes before eleven.
+
+'Yes. If it is no use at all trying to appeal to----'
+
+'No use at all,' Mrs. Arundel snapped. 'I am not disposed for
+sentimental nonsense.'
+
+'I am sorry, because you will be sorry afterwards. Well, then, I have
+come to tell you that I have made all the preparations, with George's
+assistance, for Wednesday.'
+
+'Oh!'
+
+'Yes. The wedding cake will be sent in on Tuesday. My own dress--white
+satin, of course, very beautiful--is finished and tried on. It will be
+sent in on Monday evening. The two bridesmaids' dresses will also come
+on Monday. George has arranged at the Church. He has ordered the
+carriages and the bouquets and has got the ring. The presents you have
+already in the house. We shall be married at three. There will be a
+little gathering of the cousins after the wedding, and you will give
+them a little simple dinner in the evening, which will, I daresay, end
+with a little dance. George has also seen to the red cloth for the steps
+and all that. Oh! And on Tuesday evening you will give a big dinner
+party to everybody.'
+
+'Are you gone quite mad, Elsie?'
+
+'Not mad at all, my dear mother. It is Sir Samuel who is mad, and has
+driven you and Hilda mad. Oh! everything will come off exactly as I tell
+you. Perhaps you don't believe it.'
+
+'You are mad, Elsie. You are certainly mad.'
+
+'No, my dear mother, I am not mad. Oh! it is so absurd, if it were not
+so serious. But we are determined, George and I, not to make this
+absurdity the cause of lasting bitterness. Therefore, my dear mother, I
+do not want to be married from my brother's lodgings, but from your
+house. You will come to my wedding, I prophesy, full of love--full of
+love'--her eyes filled with tears--'for me and for George--and for
+Athelstan--full of love and of sorrow and of self-reproach. I am to be
+given away by my brother--you will come, I say, with a heart full of
+love and of pity for him.'
+
+Mrs. Arundel gazed at her stonily.
+
+'Everybody will be there, and you will receive all your friends after
+the wedding. I have taken care of the invitations. Hilda will be there
+too, horribly ashamed of herself. It will be a lovely wedding; and we
+shall go away with such good wishes from yourself as you would not in
+your present state of mind believe possible. Go now to Church, my dear
+mother, prepared for a happy and a joyful day.'
+
+'I sometimes believe, Elsie,' said Mrs. Arundel, more coldly still,
+'that you have been deprived of your senses. So far from this, I shall
+not be present at your wedding. I will not interfere with your holding
+your marriage here, if you like; you may fill the house with your
+friends, if you please. I shall myself take shelter with my more dutiful
+daughter. I refuse to meet my unhappy son; I will not be a consenting
+party to the tie which will entail a lifelong misery----'
+
+'My dear mother--you will do everything exactly as I have
+prophesied.--Now, do not say any more, because it will only make our
+reconciliation a little more difficult. I ought to go to Church on the
+Sunday before my wedding if any day in the week. If you would only
+recover your trust in my lover's honour, I could go to Church with you
+and kneel beside you. But without that trust---- Oh! go, my dear mother.
+You will find my prophecy come true, word for word--believe me or not.'
+
+Mrs. Arundel went to Church. During the service she felt strange
+prickings of foreboding and of compunction and of fear, anxiety, and
+hope, with a little sadness, caused by the communication and the
+assurances of her daughter. Even in such a case as this, the thinker of
+evil is sometimes depressed by the arrival of the prophet of good. When
+Mrs. Arundel came away from Church, she became aware that she had not
+heard one single word of the sermon. Not that she wanted very much to
+hear the sermon, any more than the First or Second Lesson--all three
+being parts of the whole which every person of respectability must hear
+once a week. Only it was disquieting to come away after half an hour's
+discourse with the feeling that she did not remember a single syllable
+of it. She took her early dinner with the other daughter, to whom she
+communicated Elsie's remarkable conduct, and her prediction and her
+invitation. It was decided between them that her brain was affected--no
+doubt, only for a time--and that it was not expedient for them to
+interfere; that it was deplorable, but a part of what might have been
+expected; and that time would show. Meanwhile, Sir Samuel reported that
+it had been resolved to get a warrant for the arrest of the man Edmund
+Gray, who hitherto had eluded all attempts to find him.
+
+'He appears to be a real person,' the knight concluded--'an elderly man,
+whose character, so far as we can learn, is good. It is, however,
+significant that nothing has been discovered concerning his profession
+or calling. That is mysterious. For my own part, I like to know how a
+man earns his daily bread. I have even consulted a person connected with
+the Police. Nothing is known or suspected about him. But we shall see as
+soon as he is before the magistrate.'
+
+'And Wednesday is so close! Oh! my dear Sir Samuel, hurry them up. Even
+at the last moment--even at the risk of a terrible scandal--if Elsie
+could be saved!'
+
+'Well,' said Sir Samuel, 'it is curious--I don't understand it--we had
+arranged for the application for a warrant for Friday morning. Would you
+believe it? That old donkey Checkley won't go for it--wants it put
+off--says he thinks it will be of no use. What with this young man
+Austin at first, and this old man Checkley next, we seem in a conspiracy
+to defeat the ends of justice. But to-morrow I shall go myself to my
+brother. It is time this business was finished.'
+
+'Yes--yes,' said Mrs. Arundel. 'And my dear Sir Samuel, before
+Wednesday--let it be before Wednesday, I implore you, for all our
+sakes!'
+
+'My dear Madam, it shall be to-morrow.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At noon, Elsie returned to Half Moon Street, where George was waiting
+for her.
+
+'I have made one more attempt,' she said, with tears; 'but it was
+useless. Her heart is as hard about you as ever it was about Athelstan.
+It is wonderful that she should have so little faith. I suppose it comes
+of going into the City and trying to make money. Edmund Gray would say
+so. I would have told her all, but for the old man's sake. He knows
+nothing: he suspects nothing; and I want to make the case so complete
+that there shall be no doubt--none whatever--possible in the minds of
+the most suspicious. Even Checkley must be satisfied. I shall finish the
+work, I hope, this afternoon-- Oh! George--is it possible? Is our
+wedding day next Wednesday--actually next Wednesday? And the hateful
+cloud shall be blown away, and--and--and----'
+
+For the rest of this chapter look into the book of holy kisses, where
+you will very likely find it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+PLENARY CONFESSION
+
+
+Early on Sunday afternoon Elsie started upon her mission. She was
+anxious, because she was entering upon a most important business, and
+one requiring the greatest delicacy in the handling. It was enough--more
+than enough--that her witnesses should be able, one after the other, to
+identify Mr. Dering with Mr. Edmund Gray: but how much more would her
+hands be strengthened if she could produce a full and complete narrative
+of the whole affair, written by the hand which had done it all? To get
+that narrative was her business with the Master that afternoon. But she
+was hopeful, partly because she knew her power over the philosopher; and
+partly because, like every woman who respects herself, she had always
+been accustomed to get exactly what she wanted, either by asking,
+coaxing, flattering, or taking.
+
+The Master was waiting for her--one should never keep a Master
+waiting--and she was a little late: he was impatient: he had so much to
+talk about and to teach: one point suggested another in his mind: so
+much to say: he grudged the least delay: he walked about the room
+chafing because the hour appointed was already five minutes in the past:
+he would scold her: she must really learn to be punctual: they had only
+about five short hours before them for all he had to say. Was this the
+zeal of a student? But at that point she opened the door and ran in,
+breathless, smiling, eager, holding out both her hands, a dainty
+delicate maiden all his own--his disciple--his daughter--the daughter of
+the New Humanity--and he forgot his irritation, and took her hands in
+his and kissed her forehead. 'Child,' he sighed, 'you are late. But
+never mind. You are here. Why, you have grown so precious to me that I
+cannot bear you to be a minute late. It is such a happiness--such a joy
+in the present--such a promise for the future--that I have such a
+disciple! Now sit down--take off your bonnet. I have put a chair for you
+at the window--and a table for you to write. Here is your
+note-book.--Now--you have thought over what I taught you last?--That is
+well. Let us resume at the point where we left off--the rise of the
+co-operative spirit, which is the rise of the New Humanity.'
+
+He talked for two hours--two long eloquent hours: he walked about the
+room: or he stopped before his disciple emphasising with the forefinger
+of admonition--repeating--illustrating by anecdote and memory--he had a
+prodigious memory. The Scholar listened intelligently. Sometimes she
+asked a question: sometimes she made notes. You must not think that she
+was a sham scholar; her interest in the Master's system was not
+simulated. Above all things, she loved to hear this enthusiast talk--who
+would not love to hear of the New Jerusalem? Always he made her heart to
+glow with the Vision that he conjured up before her eyes of a world
+where there should be no more sorrow nor crying nor any more pain, nor
+any of the former things. He made her actually see--what others only
+read of--the Four-square City itself with its gates open night and day,
+its jasper walls, and its twelve foundations of precious stones.--'Why,'
+he said, 'the gates are open night and day because there is no Property
+to defend; and the walls are of jasper because it is the most beautiful
+of minerals, and because it can be polished like a mirror, so that the
+country around is reflected on its surface, which shows that it all
+belongs to the City; and the precious stones are the twelve cardinal
+virtues of Humanity, on which the order of the future shall
+rest--namely, Faith, Brotherly Love, Obedience, Patience, Loyalty,
+Constancy, Chastity, Courage, Hope, Simplicity, Tenderness, and
+Industry. It is an allegory--the whole book is an allegory--of
+Humanity.' And she saw, beside the City, the river of life with the tree
+of life for the healing of all nations.
+
+Then she clean forgot the purpose for which she had come: she was
+carried away: her heart beat--her cheek glowed. Oh! Lovely Vision! Oh!
+Great and glorious Prophet! He made a Heaven, and placed it on this
+earth. Now the mind of man can conceive of no other happiness but that
+which humanity can make out of the actual materials found upon this
+earthly ball. The Heaven, even of the most spiritual, is a glorified
+world; the Hell, even of the most gentle, is a world of fleshly pain: no
+other Heaven attracts: no other Hell terrifies: there is no promise, or
+hope, or prospect, or inheritance that man desires or poet can feign or
+visionary can preach but an earthly Heaven: it must be a Heaven
+containing sunshine and shower, kindly fruits in due season, love and
+joy and music and art, and men and women who love each other and labour
+for each other. Such a world--such a New Jerusalem--the Master drew
+every day; he loved it, and lingered over it; he painted over and over
+again this splendid Vision. He was never tired of painting it, or his
+hearers of gazing upon it. But to-day he spoke with greater fulness,
+more clearly, more brilliantly, more joyously than ever. Was the Prophet
+really a man of seventy years and more? For his mind was young--the
+enthusiast, like the poet, never grows old. His voice might have been
+the voice of a boy--a marvellous boy--a Shelley--preaching the glories
+of the world when Property should be no more.
+
+He ceased. And the Vision which he had raised quickly faded away. They
+were back again in the dingy old Inn; they were among the solicitors and
+the money-lenders and the young fellows who have their Chambers in the
+place. The Inn is about as far from the New Jerusalem as any place under
+the sun; it is made over bodily and belongs--every stair--every
+chamber--to the interests of Property.
+
+He ceased his prophecy, and began to argue, to reason, to chop logic,
+which was not by any means so interesting. At last he stopped this as
+well. 'You have now, dear child,' he said, 'heard quite as much as you
+can profitably absorb. I have noticed for the last two or three minutes
+your eyes wandering and your attention wearied. Let us stop--only
+remember what I have just said about the diseases of the Body Politic.
+They are akin to those that affect the human body. By comparing the two
+we may learn not only cause, but also effect. We have our rheumatisms,
+gouts, asthmas, neuralgias, colds and coughs, fevers and other ills. So
+has the Body Politic. Whence come our diseases? From the ignorance, the
+follies, the vices, the greed and gluttony of our forefathers. So those
+of the Body Politic. Take away Property and you destroy greed. With
+that, half the diseases vanish.'
+
+Elsie heard and inclined her head. It did occur to her that perhaps
+Property in the Body Politic might be represented by food in the Body
+Human, but she forbore. The Master was one who did not invite argument.
+Nearly all the great Teachers of the world, if you think of it, have
+conveyed their wisdom in maxims and aphorisms.
+
+He took out his watch. 'It is nearly four,' he said. 'Shall we go on to
+the Hall?'
+
+'Not yet. There is no need for us to be there before six. We have two
+good hours before us. Let us use them more pleasantly than in sitting
+alone in the Hall--you must own that it is stuffy. We will talk about
+other things--about ourselves--not about me, because I am quite an
+insignificant person, but about you, dear Master.' She was now about to
+enter upon her plan of duplicity. She felt horribly ashamed, but it had
+to be done. She strengthened herself: she resolved: she suppressed the
+voice of conscience.
+
+'About me?' asked the Master. 'But what is there to talk about?'
+
+'Oh! there is ever so much.' She took his right hand in her own and held
+it, knowing that this little caress pleased and moved him. 'Master--what
+a wonderful chance it was that brought me here! I can never sufficiently
+wonder at it. I have told George--George Austin--my lover, you know: and
+Athelstan--he is my brother.' She looked at him sharply, but there was
+no sign of recognition of those two names. Edmund Gray had never heard
+of either. 'I have told them about you and of your great work, and how
+you are teaching me and everything. But when they ask me who you are,
+where you have lived, and all about you, I can tell them nothing. Oh! I
+know it matters nothing about me and my own friends; but, my dear
+Master, we have to think of the future. When the Cause has spread, and
+spread, and spread, till it covers the whole world, people will want to
+know all about the man who first preached its principles. Who will be
+able to tell them? No one. You are alone; you have no wife or children.
+Your name will remain for ever attached to the Cause itself. But
+you--you--the man--what will you be? Nothing. Nothing but a name. You
+ought to write an autobiography.'
+
+'I have sometimes thought I would do so'--his face became troubled;
+'but--but----'
+
+'But you are always occupied with working for the world. You have no
+time, of course. I quite understand that; and it worries you--does it
+not?--to be called upon to turn your thoughts from the present back to
+the past.'
+
+'Yes--yes; it does--it does. Elsie, you exactly express the
+difficulty.'
+
+'And yet--you must own--you must confess--it is natural for the world to
+want to know all about you. Who was the great Edmund Gray? Why, they
+will want to know every particular--every single particular: where you
+were born--where you were educated--who were your masters--what led you
+to the study of Humanity and its problems--where you lived; if you were
+married and to whom--what you read--who were your friends. Oh! there is
+no end to the curiosity of the world about their great men.'
+
+'Perhaps.' He rose and looked out of the window. When men are greatly
+pleased they must always be moving. 'I confess that I have never thought
+of these things at all. Yet, to be sure--you are right.' He murmured and
+purred.
+
+'No, but I have thought of them, ever since I had the happiness of being
+received by you. Master, will you trust me? Shall I become your
+biographer? You cannot find one more loving. You have only to give me
+the materials. Now--let me ask you a few questions just for a
+beginning--just to show you the kind of thing I shall want to know.'
+
+He laughed and sat down again. 'Why, my life has not got in it one
+single solitary incident, or episode, or adventure. There are no
+misfortunes in it. There is not such a thing as a disease in it. I have
+always been perfectly well. There is not even a love episode or a
+flirtation in it. There are not even any religious difficulties in it.
+Without love, ill-health, misfortune, religious doubts--where is the
+interest in the life, and what is there to tell?'
+
+'Well, a life that has no incident in it must be the life of a student.
+It is only a student who never falls in love.'
+
+'Or,' said the Philosopher, 'a money-getter.'
+
+'Happily, there are not many students or we women should be disconsolate
+indeed. Do you know, Master, that you can only be excused such a
+dreadful omission in your history by that one plea? Sit down again,
+Master,' for again he was walking about restlessly, partly disturbed by
+her questions, and partly flattered and pleased by her reasons. She
+opened her note-book and began to ask questions about himself--very
+simple questions, such as would not introduce any disturbing points. He
+answered readily, and she observed with interest that he gave correctly
+the facts of his own--Edward Dering's--history.
+
+He was born, he said, in that class which upholds Property--the Better
+Class--meaning the Richer. His father was a wealthy solicitor, who lived
+in Bedford Row. He was born in the year 1815--Waterloo year. He was the
+eldest of a family of five--three daughters and two sons. He was
+educated at Westminster. On leaving school, his father offered him the
+advantage of a University course, but he refused, being anxious to begin
+as early as possible his life's work--as he thought--in the defence of
+Property. He was therefore articled to his father; and at the age of
+twenty-two he passed his examination and was admitted.
+
+'And then you were young--you were not yet a student--you went into
+society. You saw girls and danced with them. Yet you never fell in love,
+and were never married. How strange! I thought everybody wanted love. A
+man's real life only begins, I have always been taught, with love and
+marriage. Love means everything.'
+
+'To you, my child, no doubt it does. Such as you are born for love,' he
+added gallantly. 'Venus herself smiles in your eyes and sits upon your
+lips. But as for me I was always studious more or less, though I did not
+for long find out my true line. I worked hard--I went out very little. I
+was cold by nature, perhaps. I had no time to think about such things.
+Now, when it is too late, I regret the loss of the experience. Doubtless
+if I had that experience I should have gained greatly in the power of
+persuasion. I should have a much more potent influence over the women
+among my hearers. If I were a married man I should be much more in
+sympathy with them.'
+
+'No--n--no.' Elsie hesitated a little. 'Perhaps women--especially the
+younger kind--get on better with unmarried men. However, you were not
+married.'
+
+'At first, then, I was a solicitor with my father. Then--presently----'
+His face put on the troubled look again.
+
+'You continued,' Elsie interrupted quickly, 'to work at your profession,
+though you took up other studies.'
+
+'No--no--not quite that.'
+
+'You began to take up Social problems, and gradually abandoned your
+profession.'
+
+'No--no--not that either--quite.'
+
+'You found you could not reconcile your conscience any longer to
+defending Property.'
+
+'No--I forget exactly. It is strange that one should forget a thing so
+simple. I am growing old, I suppose.--Well--it matters not. I left the
+profession. That is the only important thing to remember. That I did so
+these Chambers prove. I came out of it. Yes, that was it. Just at the
+moment, my head being full of other things, I cannot remember the exact
+time, or the manner of my leaving the profession. I forget the
+circumstances, probably because I attached so little importance to it.
+The real point is that I came out of it and gave myself up to these
+studies.'
+
+She noted this important point carefully and looked up for more.
+
+'There, my dear child, is my whole life for you. Without an incident or
+an episode. I was born: I went to school: I became a solicitor: I gave
+up my profession: I studied social economy: I made my great discovery: I
+preached it. Then--did I say my life was without an episode and without
+love? No--no--I was wrong. My daughter--I have at last found love and a
+child--and a disciple. What more have I to ask?'
+
+'My Master!' No daughter could be more in sympathy with him than this
+girl.
+
+'It is all most valuable and interesting,' she said, 'though the facts
+are so few. Books will be written, in the future, on these facts, which
+will be filled out with conjecture and inference. Even the things that
+you think of so little importance will be made the subject of comment
+and criticism. Well--but my Biography of you will be the first and best
+and most important. I shall first make a skeleton life out of the facts,
+and then fill in the flesh and blood and put on the clothes, and present
+you, dear Master, just as you are.'
+
+'Ask me what you will, but not too often. It worries me to remember the
+past. My dear, I am like a man who has made himself--who has risen from
+the gutter. He cannot deny the fact, but he doesn't like to be talking
+about it; and he is insulted if anyone charges him with the fact or
+alludes to it in any way in his presence. That is my case exactly. I
+have made myself. I have raised myself from the gutter--the gutter of
+Property. I actually worked in defence of Property till I was sixty
+years old and more. Now I am rather ashamed of that fact. I do not deny
+it--you must put it into your Biography--but I do not like talking about
+it.'
+
+'You were once a solicitor, and you are now a Prophet. What a leap!
+What a wonderful leap! I quite understand. Yet sometimes, now and then,
+for the sake of the curious impertinent world, look back and tell me
+what you see.'
+
+'I suppose it is because I am so absorbed in my work that it is
+difficult for me to remember things. Why, Elsie, day after day, from
+morning to evening, I sit here at work. And in the evening I remember
+nothing of the flight of time. The hours strike, but I hear them not.
+Only the books on the table show what has been my occupation. And you
+want me to go back, not to yesterday, but ten, twenty, thirty years ago.
+My dear child, I cannot. Some of the past is clear to me--a day here and
+there I remember clearly--all my evenings at the Hall of Science: my
+lessons with you; those I remember. But to recall days passed in
+meditation and absorbing study is not possible. No--no--I cannot even
+try.'
+
+He spoke with a little distress, as if the very thought of the necessary
+effort troubled him.
+
+'Believe me, my dear Master,' said Elsie, 'I would not vex you. Only for
+some of the things which you do remember. For instance, the world always
+wants to know about the private fortunes of its great men. Your own
+affairs, you told me once, are in the hands of a--Mr.--Mr.--what is his
+name?'
+
+'Dering--Dering. A very well known solicitor. His office is in New
+Square, Lincoln's Inn--he manages my money matters. I am, I believe,
+what the world calls wealthy.'
+
+'That gives you independence and the power of working for Humanity, does
+it not?'
+
+'It does,' said the Scourge and Destroyer of Property, unconscious of
+the incongruity. 'Dering, my solicitor, is, I believe, a very honest
+man. Narrow in his views--wedded to the old school--quite unable to see
+the advance of the tide. But trustworthy. He belongs to a tribe which is
+indispensable so long as Property is suffered to exist.'
+
+'Yes--only so long. Property and lawyers will go out hand in hand.'
+
+'And magistrates,' he added with enthusiasm. 'And Courts of Justice and
+prisons. And criminals, because the chief incentive to crime will be
+destroyed. What a glorious world without a law, or a lawyer, or a
+policeman!'
+
+'Mr. Dering, is it? Why, my dear Master, I know something about Mr.
+Dering. My brother Athelstan was articled to him. He became a managing
+clerk for him. Then there was trouble about a cheque. Something was
+wrong about it. He was unjustly blamed or suspected, and he left the
+House. I wonder, now, whether you could throw any light upon that
+business of the cheque?'
+
+'I, my dear child? A single solitary cheque at a lawyer's office? How
+should I possibly know anything about it?'
+
+'Oh! but you might remember this cheque, because, now I think of it,
+your own name was connected with it. Yes--it was. I am certain it was.
+The cheque was drawn in March in the year 1882--a cheque for seven
+hundred and twenty pounds, payable to your order--the order of Edmund
+Gray.'
+
+'A cheque for seven hundred and twenty pounds? In March 1882? That must
+have been: yes--yes--that was about the time. Now, this is really most
+remarkable, child, most remarkable that you should actually hit upon a
+cheque--one of thousands issued from that office--which I should
+remember perfectly. Life is full of coincidences--one is always hearing
+odd things said, meeting faces which one knows.--Well, it is most
+remarkable, because I received a cheque for that very amount at that
+very time from Dering. Oh! I remember perfectly. It was when I had a
+scheme--I thought it then, being younger than I am now--a very good
+scheme indeed. It was intended for the gradual destruction of Property.
+I did not understand at that time so fully as I do now the rising of the
+tide and the direction of the current which is steadily advancing to
+overwhelm Property without any feeble efforts on my part. Yet my scheme
+was good so far as it went, and it might have been started with good
+effect, but for the apathy of the workers. You see, they were not
+educated up to it. I had already begun upon my scheme by advancing to
+certain working men sums which should make them independent of their
+employers until they should have produced enough to sell directly,
+without the aid of an employer, at their own co-operative stores.
+Unfortunately, most of them drank the money: the few who used it
+properly, instead of backing up their fellow-workmen, became themselves
+employers, and are now wealthy. Well, I thought I would extend this
+method. I thought that if I got together a chosen band--say, of seventy
+or so--and if, after teaching them and educating them a bit, I gave
+them, say, ten pounds apiece, to tide them over the first few weeks,
+that I might next open a distributive and co-operative store for them,
+and so take the first step to abolishing the middle-man--the man of
+trade.'
+
+'I see; and so you drew the money for that purpose?'
+
+'Yes. But as I told you, I was obliged to abandon my scheme. The men
+were not sufficiently advanced. They listened; they professed great
+willingness to receive the money; but they gave me no encouragement to
+hope that they would carry out my plan. So it fell through. And the men
+remain to this day with their employers. And so--you see--I never used
+the money. I remember that I had the cheque cashed in ten-pound notes
+for the purpose.'
+
+'What became of the notes?'
+
+'I don't know. They are in the Bank, I suppose--wandering about the
+world. I gave them back to Dering.'
+
+'Oh! my dear Master'--Elsie sprang to her feet and laid a sheet of paper
+on the table--'this is most Providential! I cannot tell you what a
+dreadful cause of trouble this cheque has been to us. It has half ruined
+my brother's life. For Heaven's sake, write it all down for me. Quick!
+quick! before you forget it all.'
+
+'I shall not forget it. Nevertheless, Elsie, if a statement of the facts
+can be of any use to you'--he changed his seat and took up the
+pen--'certainly I will write it for you.'
+
+'I am requested,' he wrote, 'by Miss Elsie Arundel, my Scholar, to state
+what I know of a certain transaction which took place in March 1882. The
+facts are as follows: I had need of a sum of seven hundred and twenty
+pounds. For certain purposes I wanted it in ten-pound notes. I asked my
+agent, Mr. Dering, to give me a cheque; and as I thought that I should
+want the money immediately, perhaps in an hour or so, I asked him to
+make it payable to my order, and not to cross the cheque. He drew the
+cheque and gave it to me in his office. I then went to the hotel where I
+was stopping--a place in Arundel Street, Strand, and sent a
+commissionaire to the Bank for the money. He brought it, as I had
+requested, in ten-pound notes. In a few days I discovered that my plan
+could not be even commenced without the greatest danger of defeating its
+own object. I therefore took the notes to Mr. Dering's office and placed
+them in his safe. I suppose that he has long since returned them to the
+Bank.'
+
+'There, child,' he said, reading this statement aloud. 'That is what I
+recollect about this matter.'
+
+'Sign it.' Elsie gave him the pen again. 'Sign it, dear Master.--Oh!
+thanks--thanks a thousand times! You don't know--oh! you will never know
+or understand--I hope--how precious this document will be for me'--she
+folded the paper in an envelope and placed it in her handbag--'and for
+my people--my brother and all. Oh! my dear Master.' She stooped and
+kissed his hand, to hide the tears in her eyes. Athelstan's name was
+safe now whatever happened. He would be completely cleared at last.
+
+'Why, my dear Scholar--my dear daughter.' Mr. Edmund Gray was moved
+himself almost to tears at this unexpected burst of feeling. 'As if
+there was anything I would not do for you if I could. I, who have never
+loved any woman before, love one now. She is my daughter--my
+grandchild.--So your brother will be helped by this little
+reminiscence--will he? Actually, your brother! I wonder if there is
+anything more that I could remember for you in this uneventful life of
+mine.'
+
+'Oh no!--that would be too much to hope. Yet there is a chance--just a
+chance. I wonder if I may tell you. There is still time before us. If we
+are at the Hall by six we shall do very well. It is no more than
+half-past four. Shall I tell you the trouble? Oh! But it is a shame. And
+you with this great work laid upon you! No--no--I must not.' Oh!
+Delilah! oh! Circe! for she looked as if, in spite of her unwilling
+words, she wanted to tell it very badly indeed.
+
+'Nay, my dear. You must, and you shall.--What? You are in trouble, and
+you will not tell me what it is. You--my Scholar--my clear-eyed
+disciple, who can see what these dull creatures of clay around us can
+never understand--you are in trouble, and you hesitate to tell me?--Fie!
+fie! Speak now. Tell me all.'
+
+'I have told you that I have a lover, and that I am engaged to be
+married.'
+
+'Yes--yes. His name, too, you have told me. It is George--George Austin.
+There were Austins once--I seem to remember--but that does not matter.'
+
+'We are to be married on Wednesday.'
+
+'So soon? But you have promised that I shall not lose my pupil.'
+
+'No, dear Master. As soon as we come back from our holiday, I will come
+and see you again and learn of you. Do not doubt that. I can never again
+let you go out of my life. I shall bring my--my husband with me.'
+
+'If I thought your marriage would take you away from me, I should be the
+most unhappy of men. But I will spare you for a month--two months--as
+long as you please. Now, tell me what is on your mind.'
+
+'George was one of Mr. Dering's managing clerks--your Mr. Dering, you
+know.'--Mr. Edmund Gray nodded gravely. 'He had no money when we were
+engaged, and we thought that we were going to be quite a poor and humble
+pair. But a great piece of good fortune happened to him, for Mr. Dering
+made him a Partner.'
+
+'Did he? Very lucky for your friend. But I always thought that Dering
+ought to have a Partner. At his age it was only prudent--necessary,
+even.'
+
+'So we were made very happy; and I thought we were the luckiest couple
+in the world. But just then there was a discovery made at the office--a
+very singular discovery--I hardly know how to describe it, because it is
+not quite clear to me even yet. It was concerned with the buying or
+selling or transfer of certain stocks and shares and coupons and that
+kind of thing. Mr. Dering seems not to remember having signed the papers
+concerned. There is a fear that they are in wrong hands. There is a
+suspicion of forgery even. I am ashamed even to mention such a thing to
+you, but my lover's name has been connected with the business; and
+Dering's clerk, Checkley--you know Checkley?'--
+
+'Certainly--Dering's old servant.'
+
+'Has openly charged George--on no evidence, to be sure--of having forged
+the letters or of having assisted in the forgery.'
+
+'This is very serious.'
+
+'It is very serious; but we do not intend to let the thing interfere
+with our wedding. Only, unless I can remove the last ray of suspicion
+before Wednesday, we shall spend our honeymoon at home, in order to
+watch the case from day to day.'
+
+'Buying or selling stocks? Dering would be constantly doing that.'
+
+'It appears that these transactions were the only things of the kind
+that he has done this year. That is to say, he denies having done
+these.'
+
+'Well--as for these having been the only transactions of the kind, he
+managed a good bit of such business for me this last spring.'
+
+'Did he? Do you remember the details of that business?'
+
+'Clearly. It was only yesterday, so to speak.'
+
+'Was it the purchase or transfer of stock or shares?'
+
+'Certainly. To a very large amount. I have told you about my Industrial
+Village, have I not? The Village where all are to be equal--all are to
+work for a certain time every day, and no longer--all are to be paid in
+rations and clothes and houses, and there is to be no private
+property--my Ideal Village.'
+
+'I know. A lovely Village.'
+
+'It was early in the spring that I finished my designs for it. Then it
+occurred to me that it would be well if, instead of always going to my
+lawyer for money, I had a large sum at my command lying at my Bank. So I
+instructed Dering to transfer to my name a great quantity of stocks
+lying in his name. He was a trustee or a--well--it is rather unusual,
+but I like having all my business affairs managed for me, and---- But
+this will not interest you'--this with the look of irritation or
+bewilderment which sometimes passed over his face. 'The important thing
+is that it was done, and that my Bank received those transfers, and has
+instructions to receive the dividends.'
+
+'Oh! And has all the papers, I suppose?'
+
+'It had them. But I thought that perhaps my old friend might think it
+looked like want of confidence if I left them there, so I sent for them,
+and took them to his office. They are now in the safe. I put them there
+myself with my own hand; or he did with his own hand--I forget.
+Sometimes--it is very odd--when I think of things done at that office, I
+seem to have done it myself; and sometimes I think that he did it. Not
+that it matters.'
+
+'Not at all. The papers are actually in the safe again?'
+
+'Certainly. I--that is--he--he or I--put them there.'
+
+'Oh! my dear Master'--Elsie clapped her hands--'this is even more
+important than the other. You do not know--you cannot guess--what
+mischiefs you are able to stop. If I had only been able to talk to you
+about these things before! The paper you have already written is for my
+brother. Now sit down, my Master, and write another that will do for
+me.'
+
+'I will do anything you ask me--and everything. But as for this, why not
+ask Dering? His memory never fails. His mind is like a box which holds
+everything and can never be filled. Perhaps he would not like these
+private affairs--as between solicitor and client--to be talked about.'
+
+'We cannot go to Mr. Dering. There are certain reasons which would not
+interest you. All we want is a clear, straightforward statement, an
+exact statement of what happened. Sit down now and write me a full
+account of each transaction.'
+
+'Certainly; if it will be of the least use to you.'
+
+'Early in the present year,' he began, 'I found that my plan of an
+Industrial Village if it was to be carried into effect would want all
+the money I could command. It occurred to me that it would be well to
+transfer a certain sum from the hands of my agent, and to place it in my
+own Bank ready to hand. I began then, in March, with a sum of six
+thousand pounds, which Dering, by my instructions, handed over to my
+Bank in the form of shares and stocks. I believe they were transfers of
+certain stocks held by him in his own name, but forming part of my
+fortune--my large private fortune. The Bank was instructed to receive
+the dividends on that sum. A month or so later I obtained from Dering
+other stock to the value of twelve thousand pounds, the papers of which
+were also given to my Bank. And after that I took out papers
+representing twenty thousand pounds; so that I had in my hands, ready to
+be sold out and used at a moment's notice, no less than thirty-eight
+thousand pounds. All this money I intended to devote to my Industrial
+Village. The scheme is still one in which I put my whole confidence. But
+it has not yet been carried into effect, in consequence of the
+difficulty of finding working men equal to the situation. They
+understand working for the man who has the money; they do not understand
+working for the man who has none, that is for each other and for
+themselves. For my own part I could only find working men of that stamp.
+Perhaps I am too much in the study. I do not go about enough among
+working men. There must be some advanced to my stage of
+development.--Well, for want of men, I could not start my Village, and I
+have not used the money. As for the papers, I have taken them out of the
+Bank and placed them in Dering's safe.'
+
+Elsie looked over his shoulder, reading every word. 'The letters which
+Mr. Dering wrote to the stockbroker in accordance with your
+instructions. They were written for him--perhaps--by you. It is unusual,
+but----'
+
+'I told you,' he replied sharply. 'What is the use of saying things
+twice? There are some things which confuse a man. I wrote them--he wrote
+them--he acted for me--or I acted for myself. What matter? The end is as
+I have written down for you.--Now, will this paper be of any use to
+you?'
+
+'Of the greatest use. Please sign it, dear Master.'
+
+He obeyed, and signed 'Edmund Gray.'
+
+'There is one thing more.' Elsie saw in his face signs of disquiet, and
+hastened on. 'You have got your Bank book here?'
+
+'Yes. The Manager sent it here with an impertinent note about
+references, which I have sent on to Dering.--What do you want with the
+Bank book? It is in one of those drawers. See--here it is--cheque book
+too.'
+
+'If I were you, Master, I would have no more trouble about the money.
+You have given Mr. Dering the transfers and papers--why not give him
+back the money as well? Do not be bothered with money matters. It is of
+all things important to you to be free from all kinds of business and
+money matters. Who ever heard of a Prophet drawing a cheque? You sit
+here and work and meditate. You go to the Hall of Science and teach. It
+is the business of your friends to see that all your necessities are
+properly supplied.--Now, if you will in these minor matters suffer your
+friends to advise----'
+
+'Surely. I ask for nothing else.'
+
+'Then, dear Master, here is your cheque book and here your Bank book.
+Draw a cheque payable to the order of Edward Dering for all the money
+that is lying here--I see it is seven hundred and twenty-three pounds
+five shillings and threepence.--I will take care of the cheque--so.--Oh!
+you have signed Edward Dering--careless Master! Draw another--now sign
+it Edmund Gray.--That will do.--And you had better at the same time
+write a letter to the Bank asking the Manager in future to receive the
+dividends for the account of Mr. Dering. I will write the letter, and
+you shall sign it. Now--no--no--not Edward Dering--Edmund Gray. Your
+thoughts are wandering.--There!--Now, dear Master, you are free from
+everything that might trouble you.'
+
+The Master pushed back the blotting-pad with impatience, and rose from
+the chair. Elsie took possession of the signed cheques, the cheque book,
+the Bank book, and the letter. She had all--the statement in Edmund
+Gray's own handwriting-all--all--that was wanted to clear up the
+business from the beginning to the end. She put everything together in
+her handbag. She glanced at her companion: she perceived that his face
+was troubled. 'I wish,' he said fretfully, 'that you had not worried me
+with those questions about the past. They disturb me. The current of my
+thoughts is checked. I am full of Dering and his office and his
+safe--his safe--and all----'
+
+Elsie trembled. His face was changing--in a minute he would have
+returned to Mr. Dering, and she would have had to explain. 'Master,' she
+cried, laying her hand upon his arm, 'think. We are going to the Hall of
+Science--your Hall of Science--yours. The people are waiting for their
+Prophet. You are to address them. To-night you must surpass yourself,
+because there are strangers coming. Tell us--once again--all over
+again--of that world where there is no crime, no suffering, no iniquity,
+no sin, no sorrow--where there are no poor creatures deprived by a cruel
+social order of liberty, of leisure, of comfort, of virtue, of
+everything--poor wretches born only to toil and to endure. Think of
+them. Speak for them. Plan for them. Make our hearts burn within us for
+shame and rage. Oh, Master'--for his face was troubled still and
+doubtful, as if he was hovering on the border-land between himself and
+his other self--'no one can speak to them like you; no one has your
+power of speech: make them feel that new world--make them see
+it--actually see it with their earthly eyes--make them feel it in their
+hearts.'
+
+'Child'--he sighed; his face fell back into repose--'you comfort me. I
+was falling--before you came to me I often used to fall--into a fit of
+gloom--I don't know why. Something irritates me; something jars;
+something awakens a feeling as if I ought to remember--remember--what? I
+do not know.--I am better now. Your voice, my dear, at such a moment is
+to me like the sound of David's harp to Saul. It chases away the
+shadows. Oh! I am better already. I am well. If you want to ask any
+other questions, do so. As for those transactions--they are perfectly
+correct in form and everything. I cannot for the life of me understand
+why Dering, who is a practical man----'
+
+'Never mind Dering, my dear Master--or those transactions. Think only of
+the world of the New Humanity. Leave the transactions and the papers to
+me. I hope that you will never find out why they were wanted, or how
+they were to be used.--Now let us start. We shall be in excellent time.'
+
+The Hall of Science was half full of people--the usual gathering--those
+who came every Sunday evening and took the simple feast of fraternity.
+The table was spread with the white cloth, on which were laid out the
+toast and muffins, the ham and shrimps, and bread and butter and
+watercress; and on the appearance of the Chief, the tea was brought up,
+and they all sat down. Now, it had been observed by all that since the
+adhesion of this young lady the Leader's discourses had been much more
+confident, his manner had been clearer, his points more forcibly put.
+This was because, for the first time, he had had an opportunity of
+discussing his own doctrines with a mind able to follow him. Nothing so
+valuable to a teacher of new things as a sympathetic woman for listener
+and disciple. Witness the leading example of the Prophet Mohammed. Also,
+their leader had never before been so cheerful--so hopeful--so full of
+life and youth and spring. He was young again: he talked like a young
+man, though his hair was gray. This was because he loved a woman, for
+the first time in his life: he called it paternal affection: whatever
+kind of love it was, it worked in him the same miracle that love always
+works in man--young or old--it gave him back the fire of youth.
+
+This evening he sat at the head of the table dispensing his simple
+hospitality with a geniality and a heartiness unknown before the arrival
+of this young lady. He talked, meantime, in the lofty vein, above the
+style and manner common to his hearers, but not above their
+comprehension; he spoke of a higher life attainable by man at his best,
+when the victory over nature should be complete, and every force should
+be subdued and made slave to man, and all diseases should be swept away,
+and the Perfect man should stand upon the earth at last, Lord and Master
+of all--Adamus Redivivus. When that time should come, there would be no
+Property, of course; everything was to be in common; but the new life
+would be full of love and joy; there would be long-continued youth, so
+that none should be made to rise from the feast unsatisfied; nay, it
+seemed to this Dreamer that everyone should continue at the feast as
+long as he pleased, till he was satiated and desired a change.
+Long-continued youth; all were to be young, and to keep young; the girls
+were to be beautiful and the men strong; he pronounced--he--the
+hermit--the anchorite--the celibate who knew not love--a eulogy on the
+beauty of women: and he mourned over those men who miss their share of
+love.
+
+The hearts of those who heard were uplifted, for this man had the
+mesmeric faculty of compelling those who heard him to feel what he
+wanted them to feel. Most of them had been accustomed to regard their
+Leader as a man of benevolent manners but austere principles. Now he was
+tender and human, full of sympathy even with those weak vessels who fall
+in love, and for the sake of love are content to be all their lives
+slaves--yea, even slaves to Property.
+
+After tea, the tables being cleared, the Chief pronounced his weekly
+address or sermon. It was generally a discourse on the principles, which
+all professed, of equality and the abolition of Property. To-night, he
+carried on the theme on which he had spoken at tea-time, and discoursed
+on the part which should be played by Love in the New Humanity. Never
+before had he spoken so convincingly. Never had orator an audience more
+in sympathy with him.
+
+Shortly after the beginning of the address, there arrived two gentlemen,
+young and well dressed, who sat down modestly just within the door and
+listened. The people turned and looked at them with interest. They were
+not quite the kind of young man peculiar to the street or to the
+quarter.
+
+When the lecture was over and the audience crowded together to talk
+before they separated, Elsie slipped across to the new-comers and led
+them to the lecturer. 'Master,' she said, 'this is my brother
+Athelstan.'
+
+Mr. Edmund Gray shook hands with him. 'Why, Elsie,' he said, 'your
+brother and I have met already in Gray's Inn.'
+
+'And this is my friend George Austin, Partner of Mr. Dering.'
+
+'Mr. Austin,' said Mr. Edmund Gray, 'I am glad to meet the man who is
+about to enter into the most sacred of all bonds with one whom I venture
+to love, sir, as much as you yourself can do, though I love her as my
+daughter, and you love her as your bride. You will be the happiest of
+men. Take care, sir, that you deserve your happiness.'
+
+'This day,' said Elsie, 'you have rendered us all such a service as can
+never be acknowledged, or repaid, or forgotten. Yet we hope and pray
+that somehow you will never understand how great it is.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+LE CONSEIL DE FAMILLE
+
+
+'Checkley,' said Mr. Dering on Monday morning, 'here is a note from Miss
+Elsie Arundel. She makes an appointment with me at four o'clock this
+afternoon. Keep me free for that hour. Her brother Athelstan is coming
+with her.--What's the matter, man?'
+
+'It's coming, then. I knew it would come,' Checkley groaned. 'It's all
+over at last.'
+
+'What is all over?'
+
+'Everything. But don't you believe it. Tell 'em it's a lie made up to
+screen themselves. They can't prove it. Nobody can prove it. I'll back
+you up. Only don't you believe it. Mind--it is a lie--a made-up lie.'
+
+'I don't know what has been the matter with you for the last day or two,
+Checkley. What am I not to believe? What is a lie? Who is making up a
+lie which cannot be proved?'
+
+'Oh! I can't say the word--I can't. It's all over at last--at last.' He
+ran out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'My dear mother'--Hilda drove to Pembridge Square directly after
+breakfast--'I have had a most curious letter from Elsie. What does it
+mean? She orders--she does not invite--she positively orders--Sir
+Samuel--actually orders Sir Samuel!--and myself to attend at Mr.
+Dering's office at four. We are ordered to assist, she says, at the
+demolition of the structure we have so carefully erected.--What
+structure? What does she mean? Here is the letter.'
+
+'I too, dear, have had a letter from her. She says that at four o'clock
+this afternoon all the wrongful and injurious suspicions will be cleared
+away, and that if I value the affection of my son and herself--the
+affection of herself--I must be present.--Hilda, what does this mean? I
+am very much troubled about the letter. On Saturday, she came here and
+informed me that the wedding would be held on Wednesday just as if
+nothing had happened; and she foretold that we should all be present,
+and that Athelstan would give her away--Athelstan. It is a very
+disquieting letter, because, my dear, do you think we could all of
+us--could we possibly be wrong, have been wrong from the very
+beginning--in Athelstan's case? Could Sir Samuel be wrong in George's
+case?'
+
+'My dear mother, it is impossible. The case, unhappily, is too clear to
+admit of any doubt. Sir Samuel, with his long experience, could not be
+wrong.'
+
+'Then, Hilda dear, what can Elsie mean?'
+
+'We have been talking about it all through breakfast. The only
+conclusion we can come to is, that there is going to be a smothering up
+of the whole business. Mr. Dering, who has been terribly put out with
+the case, must have consented to smother up the matter. We think that
+the papers have been returned with the money received on dividends and
+coupons; and that Mr. Dering has agreed to take no further proceedings.
+Now, if he would do that, Athelstan of course would come under a kind of
+Act of Indemnity; and as the notes were never used by him, but were
+returned to their owner, it becomes as easy to recognise his innocence
+as that of the other man.--Do you see?'
+
+'Yes. But that will not make them innocent.'
+
+'Certainly not. But it makes all the difference in the world. Oh! there
+are families everywhere who have had to smother up things in order to
+escape a scandal. Well, I hope you will agree with us, and accept the
+invitation.'
+
+'I suppose I must.--But how about removing all the suspicions?'
+
+'Oh! that is only Elsie's enthusiastic way. She will go on, if she
+likes, believing that George had nothing to do with it. He will have
+every inducement to live honestly for the future. We can easily pretend
+to believe that Athelstan was always innocent, and we can persuade
+him--at least I hope we can persuade him--to go abroad. Sir Samuel
+kindly says that he will advance a hundred pounds in order to get rid of
+him. Then there will be no scandal, and everybody will be satisfied. As
+for our relations with Elsie and her husband, we can arrange them
+afterwards. Perhaps they will agree to live in a distant suburb--say
+Redhill, or Chislehurst, or Walthamstow--so that there may be a good
+excuse for never having them to the house. Because--smothering or no
+smothering--I can no longer have the same feelings towards Elsie as
+before. Her obstinate infatuation for that man exasperates me only to
+think of it. Nor have I the least intention of being on intimate
+relations with a forger who has only just escaped being a convict. Sir
+Samuel entirely agrees with me.'
+
+The mother sighed. 'I could have wished that we were mistaken. Perhaps,
+after all, there may be something that Elsie has found out, some
+unexpected----'
+
+'Say a miracle at once, my dear mother. It is just as likely to happen.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The first to arrive at the office in the afternoon was Elsie herself,
+carrying a handbag.
+
+'You were going to bring your brother, Elsie,' said Mr. Dering. 'Where
+is he? And what is your important business with me? I suppose it is
+something about this wretched forgery, which really seems destined to
+finish me off. I have heard of nothing else--I think of nothing
+else--ever since it happened.'
+
+'First, has anything new been discovered?'
+
+'I hardly know,' Mr. Dering replied wearily. 'They seem to have found
+the man Edmund Gray; but Checkley has suddenly cooled. Formerly, he
+clamoured perpetually that we must lose no time in getting a warrant for
+his arrest; he now wants to put it off and put it off. He was going on
+very strangely this morning. My dear, I sometimes think that my old
+clerk is off his head.'
+
+'And you yourself--have you had any return of your forgetfulness?'
+
+'Worse--worse.--Every day, worse. I now know when to look for a return
+of these fits. Every morning I ask myself what I did the day before.
+Always there are the same hours of forgetfulness--the morning and the
+evening. Last night, where was I? Perhaps somebody will find out for
+me--for I cannot remember.'
+
+'Shall I find out for you, Mr. Dering? If I were to tell you where you
+spent the evening yesterday, would you--would you?----'
+
+'What? How can you find out?'
+
+Elsie bent her head. The moment had almost arrived, and she was afraid.
+She had come with the intention of clearing her brother and her lover at
+the cost of letting her guardian know that he was insane. A dreadful
+price to pay for their honour. But it had to be paid. And it must be
+done in the sight of all, so that there should be no possible margin
+left for malignity or suspicion.
+
+'This business,' she said, 'concerns the honour of the two men who are
+dearer to me than all the world beside. Remember that--nothing short of
+that would make me do what I have been doing--what I am now doing. Their
+honour--oh! their honour. Think what it means to them. Self-respect,
+dignity, everything: the happiness of their homes: the pride of their
+children. Compared with one man's honour, what matters another man's
+humiliation? What matters the loss of that man's self-respect? What
+matters his loss of dignity? Their honour, Mr. Dering, think of
+that--their honour!'
+
+He bowed his head gravely, wondering what was to follow.
+
+'A man's honour, as you say, Elsie, is the greatest thing in the world
+to him. Compared with that, another man's self-respect need not, I
+should say, as a general principle, be considered at all. Self-respect
+may be regained unless honour is lost.'
+
+'Remember that, then, Mr. Dering, when you hear what I have to say.
+Promise me to remember that. Oh! if there were a thousand reasons,
+formerly, why I would not pain you by a single word, there are ten
+thousand now--although you understand them not.'
+
+'Why, Elsie, you are troubling your little head about trifles. You will
+not offend me whatever you say.'
+
+'It is so important a thing,' she went on, 'that I have asked my mother
+and sister and Sir Samuel to meet us here at four o'clock, in order that
+they, too, may hear as well as you. Athelstan is with George. They have
+one or two persons to introduce to you.'
+
+'All this seems to promise a meeting of some interest, and so far as one
+may judge from the preamble, of more than common importance. Well,
+Elsie, I am quite in your hands. If you and your brother between you
+will kindly produce the forger and give me back my property, I shall be
+truly grateful.'
+
+'You shall see, Mr. Dering. But as for the gratitude----Oh! here is Sir
+Samuel.'
+
+The City knight appeared, large and important. He shook hands with Elsie
+and his brother, and took up his position on the hearth-rug, behind his
+brother's chair. 'Well, Elsie,' he said, 'we are to hear something very
+important indeed, if one may judge by the tone of your letter, which was
+imperative.'
+
+'Very important indeed, Sir Samuel.'
+
+The next to arrive were Mrs. Arundel and Hilda. They wore thick veils,
+and Hilda was dressed in a kind of half-mourning. They took chairs at
+the open window, between the historic safe and the equally historic
+small table. Lastly, George and Athelstan walked in. They received no
+greetings.
+
+Mr. Dering rose. 'Athelstan,' he said, 'it is eight years since you left
+us.' He held out his hand.
+
+'Presently, Mr. Dering,' said Athelstan. He looked round the room. His
+mother trembled, dropped her head, and put her handkerchief to her eyes,
+but said nothing. His sister looked out of window. Sir Samuel took no
+notice of him at all. Athelstan took a chair--the clients' chair--and
+placed it so as to have his mother and sister at the side. He was not
+therefore compelled to look at them across the table. He sat down, and
+remained in silence and motionless.
+
+The Court was now complete. Mr. Dering sat in his chair before his
+table, expectant, judicial. Sir Samuel stood behind him. Mrs. Arundel
+and Hilda, the two ladies, sat at the open window. Elsie stood opposite
+to Mr. Dering, on the other side of the table, her handbag before her.
+She looked like Counsel about to open the case for plaintiff.
+Athelstan--or plaintiff--naturally occupied the clients' chair on Mr.
+Dering's left; and George, as naturally--the other plaintiff--stood
+behind him.
+
+'Now, Elsie, if you please,' Mr. Dering began.
+
+'I shall want your clerk, Checkley, to be present, if you please.'
+
+Mr. Dering touched his bell. The clerk appeared. He stood before them
+like a criminal, pale and trembling. He looked at his master
+appealingly. His hands hung beside him. Yet not a word of accusation had
+been brought against him.
+
+'Lord! Man alive!' cried Sir Samuel, 'what on earth has come over you?'
+
+Checkley shook his head sadly, but made no reply.
+
+'I want to ask you a question or two, Checkley,' said Elsie, quietly.
+'You have told Mr. Dering--you have told Sir Samuel--that you saw my
+brother furtively put a parcel--presumably the stolen notes--into the
+safe at the very moment when you were charging him with forgery. Now,
+consider. That was a very serious thing to say. It was a direct
+statement of fact. Before, the charge rested on suspicion alone; but
+this is fact. Consider carefully. You may have been mistaken. Any of us
+may make a mistake.'
+
+'It was true--Gospel truth--I see him place a parcel--along sideways--in
+the safe. The parcel we found afterwards in the safe containing all the
+notes.' The words were confident; but the manner was halting.
+
+'Very well. Next, you told Sir Samuel that my brother had been living in
+some low suburb of London with profligate companions, and that he had
+been even going about in rags and tatters.'
+
+'Yes, I did. I told Sir Samuel what I heard. Mr. Carstone told me. You'd
+better ask him. I only told what I heard.'
+
+George went out, and returned, bringing with him Mr. Freddy Carstone. He
+looked round the room and stared with surprise at Mr. Dering, but said
+nothing. He had been warned to say nothing, except in answer to
+questions.
+
+'Now, Mr. Carstone,' Elsie asked him, 'how long is it since you met my
+brother after his return to England?'
+
+'About three weeks ago I met him. It was in Holborn. I invited him into
+the _Salutation_ Tavern.'
+
+'Did you tell Mr. Checkley here anything about his way of living?'
+
+'I remember saying, foolishly, that he looked too respectable to have
+come from America; and I said in joke that I believed he had been in
+Camberwell all the time.'
+
+'Nothing about profligacy?'
+
+'Nothing at all.'
+
+'Nothing about rags and tatters?'
+
+'Certainly not. In fact, I knew nothing at all about Athelstan's life
+during the eight years that he has been away.'
+
+'Have you anything to say, Checkley? You still stick to the parcel
+story, do you? Very well, and to the Camberwell and profligacy story?'
+
+Checkley made no answer.
+
+'Now, then. There is another question. You made a great point about
+certain imitations of Mr. Dering's writing found in a drawer of
+Athelstan's table?'
+
+'Well, they were there, in your brother's hand.'
+
+'George, you have something to say on this point.'
+
+'Only this. I was not long articled at that time. The table was taken
+from the room in which I sat, and placed here for some special work.
+Now, the imitations of Mr. Dering's handwriting were made by myself and
+another clerk in joke. I remember them perfectly. They were written at
+the back of a letter addressed to me.'
+
+Mr. Dering went to the safe and produced the bundle containing all the
+papers in the case. He unrolled the bundle and placed the contents on
+the table.
+
+Everybody was now serious. Lady Dering looked out of the window no
+longer. Mrs. Arundel had drawn her chair to the table.
+
+Elsie picked out the paper containing the imitations. 'Tell me,' she
+said, 'if you remember--mind--everybody--this bundle of papers has never
+been shown to George--tell me the name of your correspondent?'
+
+'It was Leonard Henryson.'
+
+She gave the paper to Mr. Dering. 'You see,' she said.
+
+The lawyer gave it to his brother, who passed it on to his wife, who
+gave it to her mother. Mrs. Arundel laid it on the table and raised her
+veil.
+
+'The next point,' said Elsie, 'is about Athelstan's whereabouts during
+the last eight years. One letter was received by you, Mr. Dering, four
+years ago. You have already shown it to me. Will you let me read this
+letter aloud for all to hear?' It was in the bundle with the stopped
+notes. He bowed assent--and she read it.
+
+'Twelve thousand pounds!' cried Sir Samuel--'twelve thousand pounds! All
+he had! Good Heavens?'
+
+'All he had in the world,' said Elsie. 'And all for a child who refused
+to believe that her brother could be a villain! All he had in the
+world?' Her eyes filled with tears--but she dashed them aside and went
+on.
+
+'He was in the States four years ago. That, I suppose, will no longer be
+denied. The next question is--when did he return to this country?'
+
+George left the room again, and returned with a young gentleman.
+
+'This gentleman,' Elsie continued, 'comes from Messrs. Chenery & Sons,
+bankers, of New York and London. He has brought a letter with him. Will
+you kindly let me see it, sir?--It is,' she explained, 'a letter of
+credit brought over by my brother from California. You see the
+date--June 20th of this year.'
+
+Mr. Dering read it, and gave it to his brother, who gave it to his wife,
+as before.
+
+'It says that Mr. Athelstan Arundel, one of the staff of a certain
+Californian paper, will leave New York on June the 21st by the
+_Shannon_, and that he is authorised to draw on Messrs. Chenery & Sons
+for so much.--Thank you.' The young gentleman retired.
+
+'Now, Mr. Dering, are you satisfied that Athelstan was in America four
+years ago--that he left America two months ago, and that he was then on
+the staff of a Californian paper?'
+
+'There seems no reason to doubt these facts.--But'--he put his
+forefinger on the cheque payable to the order of Edmund Gray--'are we
+any nearer to the forger of this cheque?'
+
+'I am coming to that presently. I am going to show you all, so that
+there shall be no doubt whatever, who is the forger--the one hand--in
+the business. Wait a little.'
+
+Strangely enough, every eye fell upon Checkley, who now trembled and
+shook with every sign of terror.
+
+'Sit down, Checkley,' said his master.--'Elsie, do we want this
+gentleman any longer? His name I have not the pleasure of knowing.'
+
+'Oh! come,' said Mr. Carstone, who was nearest. 'You know my name,
+surely.'
+
+George warned him with a look, and he subsided into silence.
+
+'I think I shall want you, Mr. Carstone,' Elsie replied, 'if you will
+kindly take a chair and wait.--Now, Sir Samuel, I think I am right in
+saying that your belief in the guilt of George rested entirely on the
+supposed complicity of Athelstan. That gone, what becomes of your
+charge? Also, there is no doubt, I believe, that one hand, and one hand
+alone, has committed the whole long list of letters and forgeries. If,
+therefore, Athelstan could not execute the second business, how could he
+do the first? But I have more than arguments for you.'
+
+Sir Samuel coughed. Mrs. Arundel sighed.
+
+'As regards the charge against George, apart from his supposed intimacy
+with an imaginary criminal, the only suspicious thing is that he may
+have had access to the open safe. Well, Checkley also may have had
+access.--Don't be afraid, Checkley--we are not going to charge you with
+the thing at all. You are not the forger. In fact, there was a third
+person who had access to the safe.'
+
+She opened her handbag and took out a packet of papers.
+
+Then she sat down, with these in her hand, and leaning over the table,
+she looked straight and full into Mr. Dering's eyes, and began to talk
+slowly in a low and murmuring voice. And now, indeed, everybody
+understood that something very serious indeed was going to be said and
+done. At the last moment a way had occurred to Elsie. She would let them
+all see for themselves what had happened, and she would spare her
+guardian the bitter shame and pain of being exposed in the presence of
+all this company.
+
+'Mr. Dering,' she began, 'you have strangely forgotten that you know Mr.
+Edmund Gray. How could you come to forget that? Why, it is ten years at
+least since you made his acquaintance. He knows you very well. He does
+not pretend to have forgotten you. You are his solicitor. You have the
+management of his property--his large private fortune--in your hands.
+You are his most intimate friend. It is not well to forget old friends,
+is it? You must not say that you forget Edmund Gray.'
+
+Mr. Dering changed colour. His eyes expressed bewilderment. He made no
+reply.
+
+'You know that Edmund Gray leaves this room every evening on his way to
+Gray's Inn: you remember that. And that he comes here every morning, but
+not till eleven or twelve--two hours after the time that you yourself
+used to come. His head is always so full of his thoughts and his
+teaching, that he forgets the time between twelve and four, just as you
+forget the evening and the morning. You are both so much absorbed that
+you cannot remember each other.'
+
+Mr. Dering sat upright, the tips of his fingers touching. He listened at
+first gravely--though anxiously. Presently a remarkable change passed
+over his face; he became full of anxiety. He listened as if he was
+trying to remember; as if he was trying to understand.
+
+'Edmund Gray,' he said, speaking slowly. 'Yes, I remember my client
+Edmund Gray. I have a letter to write for him. What is it? Excuse me a
+moment; I must write that note for him.' He took pen and paper and
+hastily wrote a note, which Elsie took from him, read, and gave to Sir
+Samuel.
+
+'You want to tell the banker that Mr. Edmund Gray has returned you the
+transfers.--Yes.--Thank you. I thought you could not forget that client,
+of all others.'
+
+He leaned back smiling--his expression no longer anxious, but pleased
+and happy. The change transformed him. He was not Mr. Dering, but
+another.
+
+'Go on, child.'
+
+'The rooms of Gray's Inn are quiet all day long. It is a peaceful place
+for study, is it not? You sit there, your books before you, the world
+forgotten.'
+
+'Quite forgotten,' said Mr. Dering.
+
+'No--no,' cried Checkley, springing to his feet. 'I won't have it done.
+I----'
+
+'Sit down.' George pushed him back into his chair. 'Another word, and
+you leave the room.'
+
+'It is a peaceful day,' Elsie continued, 'that you pass--for the most
+part alone--you with your books. Sometimes you come here to call upon
+your old friend and solicitor, Mr. Dering.'
+
+'Sometimes,' he replied. 'We are very old friends. Though his views are
+narrow.--Where is he?' He looked about the room. 'You are all waiting to
+see him? He will be here directly. He is always here about this time.'
+
+'Yes, directly. You remember what I said to you on Sunday concerning
+certain transactions? I told you how important it was to have the exact
+truth about them.'
+
+'Certainly. I remember. I wrote an account of them for you.'
+
+'You did. Are these papers what you wrote?'
+
+He looked at them for a moment. 'These are my papers,' he said. 'They
+are what I wrote at your request. They contain a perfectly true account
+of what happened.'
+
+'Now, before I go on, you will not mind--these people here do not know
+Mr. Edmund Gray--you will not mind my asking a few persons to testify
+that you are really Mr. Edmund Gray?'
+
+'My dear child, ask all the world if you wish; though I do not
+understand why my identity should be doubted.'
+
+'Not quite all the world.--Mr. Carstone, will you tell us the name of
+this gentleman?'
+
+'He is Mr. Edmund Gray, my neighbour at No. 22 South Square, Gray's
+Inn.'
+
+Mr. Edmund Gray inclined his head and smiled.
+
+George went outside and returned, followed by a small company, who, in
+answer to Elsie, stepped forward one after the other and made answer.
+
+Said one: 'I am the landlord of the rooms at 22 South Square tenanted by
+Mr. Edmund Gray. He has held the rooms for ten years. This gentleman is
+Mr. Edmund Gray, my tenant.'
+
+Said another: 'I am a barrister, and the tenant of the rooms above those
+held by Mr. Edmund Gray. I have known him--more or less--for ten years.
+This gentleman is Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+Said a third: 'I am a commissionaire. I remember this gentleman very
+well, though it is eight years since he employed me, and only for one
+job then. I went from an hotel in Arundel Street, Strand, to a bank with
+a cheque which I was to cash for him in ten-pound notes. He gave me half
+a sovereign.'
+
+'Quite so,' said Mr. Edmund Gray. 'I remember you, too. It was a cheque
+for seven hundred and twenty pounds, the particulars of which you have
+in my statement, Elsie. I well remember this one-armed commissionaire.'
+
+And a fourth: 'I am the laundress who does for Mr. Edmund Gray. I have
+done for him for ten years. This gentleman is Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+And a fifth: 'I am a news-agent, and I have a shop at the entrance of
+Gray's Inn. This gentleman is Mr. Edmund Gray, of 22 South Square. I
+have known him in the Inn for ten years.'
+
+To each in turn Mr. Dering nodded with a kindly smile.
+
+'Athelstan,' said Elsie, 'will you tell us when and where you have met
+Mr. Edmund Gray?'
+
+'I met him last week in Carstone's rooms on the same landing. He sat
+with us for an hour or more.'
+
+'It is quite true,' said Mr. Dering. 'I have had the pleasure of meeting
+Mr. Arundel on that occasion.'
+
+'I also saw him,' Athelstan continued, 'at a small Lecture Hall at
+Kentish Town on Sunday evening--yesterday.'
+
+'To complete the evidence,' said Elsie, 'I have myself spent many hours
+almost daily with Mr. Edmund Gray during the last fortnight or so.--Is
+not that true, dear Master?'
+
+'Quite true, my Scholar.'
+
+'Brother--brother'--Sir Samuel touched his arm--'I implore you--rouse
+yourself. Shake off this fancy.'
+
+'Let him alone, Sir Samuel,' said George--'let him alone. We have not
+done with him yet.'
+
+'Yes,' cried Mrs. Arundel, who had now left her seat and was leaning
+over the table, following what was said with breathless interest--'let
+us finish out this comedy or tragedy--as the case may be. Let no one
+interrupt.'
+
+'I have also met you, sir'--Mr. Dering addressed Checkley, who only
+groaned and shook. 'It was outside a tavern. You took me in and offered
+me a drink.'
+
+Checkley shook his head, either in sadness or in denial--but replied
+not, and at the thought of offering Mr. Dering a drink, everybody
+laughed, which was a relief.
+
+'Dear Master,' Elsie went on in her soft voice, 'I am so glad that you
+remember all these things. It makes one's task so much easier. Why, your
+memory is as strong as ever, in spite of all your work.--Now, I am going
+to read the two statements you wrote down yesterday afternoon. Then you
+may recall anything else you might like to add. Remember, that as
+regards this first affair, the cheque for seven hundred and twenty
+pounds, my brother was charged, on suspicion only, with having forged
+it. Now listen.' She read the brief statement which you have already
+seen concerning the business of the first cheque. 'That is your history
+of the affair.'
+
+'Quite so. Dering drew the cheque at my request. I cashed it. I found
+that I had no need of the notes, and I returned them. That is very
+simple.'
+
+'It is all so simple that nobody ever guessed it before.--Now we come to
+the transfers made in the spring of the present year. You wrote a second
+statement regarding them. I will read that as well. Please listen very
+carefully.'
+
+She read the other statement, which you have also seen already. She read
+it very slowly, so that there should be no mistake possible. During the
+reading of these documents Sir Samuel's face expressed every possible
+shade of surprise. Mrs. Arundel, leaning over the table, followed every
+line. Hilda wept--her head gracefully inclined over her
+pocket-handkerchief, as if it was an urn.
+
+'This is your account of the business?'
+
+'Certainly. There is nothing more to be added. It is a plain statement
+of the facts. I do not understand how they could be in any way doubted
+or misrepresented.'
+
+'Would you, Sir Samuel, like to ask Mr. Edmund Gray any question?'
+
+'I don't understand. He says that Mr. Dering wrote a letter for him.'
+
+Elsie showed him the letter they had seen Mr. Dering write, which he was
+passing from one to the other.
+
+'Where are the transfers?' Sir Samuel went on. 'He says they were placed
+by himself in the safe.'
+
+Mr. Edmund Gray rose and walked to the safe. He laid his hands upon a
+packet and took it out. 'These are the papers,' he said.
+
+Sir Samuel opened the roll and looked them over. 'They seem all right,'
+he said. 'This is very wonderful.'
+
+'Wonderful--and sad--most lamentable,' whispered Lady Dering.
+
+'Wonderful, indeed!' Mrs. Arundel echoed. 'Most wonderful! most
+unexpected!'
+
+'A moment more, and I have done.' Elsie again took up the tale. 'Here is
+a cheque to the order of Mr. Dering signed by Mr. Edmund Gray for the
+whole of the money lying in his name at the Bank.--You agree, Master,
+that it is best for the future that all your affairs should be in the
+hands of your solicitor?'
+
+'I quite agree.'
+
+'Here is a letter to the manager of the Bank, requesting him to pay over
+Edmund Gray's dividends to the account of Mr. Dering.--And now I think I
+have proved my case. Here in the safe were the ten-pound notes received
+by Mr. Edmund Gray, and placed there by him. Here were the transfers and
+certificates placed there by him: you have heard half-a-dozen people
+testify to the fact that you have Edmund Gray before you. His statement
+of the business has been read to you. It shows, what no other theory of
+the case could show, how the thing was really done. Lastly, it shows the
+absolute and complete innocence of my brother and of George.--Have you
+anything more to say, Sir Samuel?'
+
+'Nothing--except that I was misled by a statement concerning a
+profligate life among low companions, without which no suspicion could
+have fallen upon either of you gentlemen. It was'--he pointed to the
+unhappy Checkley-'a vile and malignant falsehood. Do you hear, sir? Vile
+and malignant. It only remains for us all to make such reparation as we
+may--nothing would suffice, I know, but such reparation as we can--by
+the expression of the shame and regret that we all feel.'
+
+'Athelstan,' said his mother, 'what can I say? Oh! what can I say?'
+
+Athelstan rose--during the long business he had sat motionless in the
+clients' chair, his head in his hand. Now he rose and stepped over to
+his mother. 'Hush!' he said. 'Not a word. It is all forgotten--all
+forgiven.'
+
+But Hilda sank upon her knees and caught his hands.
+
+'George,' said Sir Samuel, 'forgive me. The case looked black against
+you at one time. It did indeed. Forgive me.' He held out his hand.
+
+Then there was great hand-shaking, embracing, and many tears. As for
+Checkley, he crept out and vanished in the retreat of his own room. 'It
+is all over,' he murmured--'all over. I've lost four hundred pounds a
+year. That's gone. All over--all over!'
+
+Mr. Edmund Gray looked on this happy scene of family reconciliation with
+benevolence and smiles.
+
+Family reconciliations must not be prolonged; you cannot sit over a
+family reconciliation as over a bottle of port. It must be quickly
+despatched. Sir Samuel whispered to Hilda that they had better go.
+
+'Come,' said Lady Dering. 'We will all meet again this evening at
+Pembridge Square--and to-morrow evening--and on Wednesday
+afternoon.--Elsie, you are a witch and a sorceress and a wise woman. You
+said that Athelstan should give you away, and he will.--Brother, come
+with us. Leave Elsie to George.--Oh! how handsome you are looking, my
+poor ill-used brother. Try to forgive us if you can.'
+
+She turned to Mr. Edmund Gray. 'Sir,' she said, 'we ought to be very
+grateful to you--indeed, we are--for enabling us to clear away the
+odious cloud of suspicion which had rolled over our heads. It was very
+good of you to draw out those statements for my sister. But I do think
+that if Mr. Dering had told his old friends about you--about Mr. Edmund
+Gray--we should have been spared a great deal of trouble and unnecessary
+shame.--Good-day, sir.'
+
+Sir Samuel lingered a moment. He looked as if he would appeal to Mr.
+Edmund Gray as to a brother. 'Don't speak to him,' Elsie whispered. 'Let
+him alone. He will become himself again presently. Let him alone.'
+
+So he went out, and the door was shut, and Edmund Gray was left alone
+with George and the Scholar.
+
+'My Master'--Elsie sat down beside him--'I fear you have been
+interrupted. But indeed it was necessary. Don't ask why. Things get into
+a muddle sometimes, don't they? You have gathered something of the
+trouble, too. Now that is all over--past and gone.'
+
+'I am glad for your sake, child.'
+
+'Master--dear Master--I have a confession to make. When I found out who
+you were--I mean what manner of man you were--my only thought at first
+was to coax you and wheedle you and flatter you till you gave me exactly
+the information that I wanted. I confess it. That was my only purpose.
+Nay--more--for the sake of my lover and my brother I would do it again.
+Well--I found that the only way to win your confidence was to pretend to
+be your Scholar and to believe all you taught. So I pretended. So I won
+your confidence. So I obtained all I wanted. So I have made it
+impossible for even the most malignant creature in the world to pretend
+that these two men had anything to do with what they called a forgery.
+But--believe me, dear Master--while I pretended, I was punished, because
+my pretence is turned to certainty.'
+
+'Child, I knew it. You could not pretend--no woman could pretend so as
+to deceive me on a point so simple.'
+
+'Dear Master, you do not know the possibilities of feminine craft. But I
+pretend no more. Oh! I care not how you make your attempt, whether you
+destroy Property or not. Mr. Dering says that Property is
+Civilisation--but I don't care. To me it is enough to dream--to
+know--that there is an Earthly Paradise possible, if only men will
+think so and will keep it before their eyes, though it be as far off as
+the blue hills. It is beautiful only to think of it; the soul is lifted
+up only to think that there is such a place. Keep the eyes of your
+people on this glorious place, dear Master: make it impossible for
+them to forget it or to let it go out of their sight. Then,
+half-unconsciously, they will be running, dragging each other, forcing
+each other--exhorting each other to hurry along the dusty road which
+leads to that Earthly Paradise with its Four-square City of the Jasper
+wall. Preach about it, Master. Write about it. Make all men talk about
+it and think about it.'
+
+She threw her arms round his neck and kissed him.
+
+'Master, we shall be away for a month or two. Then we shall come back,
+and I shall sit at your feet again. You shall come and stay with us. We
+will give you love, and you shall give us hope. I have made my
+confession. Forgive me.'
+
+They left him sitting alone. Presently he arose, put all the papers back
+in the safe, and walked slowly away--to Gray's Inn.
+
+Next morning when he opened his letters he found one marked 'Private.'
+It was from Sir Samuel.
+
+     'DEAR EDWARD,' it said--'We are all very glad to tell you
+     that the business of the shares and certificates is now
+     completely cleared up. Checkley is not in any way concerned
+     in it--nor is George Austin. And I am happy to say there is
+     a complete solution of the former mystery which entirely
+     clears Hilda's brother. Under these circumstances, we are
+     agreed that it is best for you not to trouble yourself about
+     any further investigations. You will find in the safe the
+     transfers, a cheque to yourself of all the money received by
+     Edmund Gray, and an order in the Bank concerning the
+     dividends. You have been the victim of a very remarkable
+     hallucination. I need not explain further. Mr. Edmund Gray,
+     however, is undoubtedly insane. I hear, and have myself
+     observed, that you have been greatly disturbed and
+     distressed by these mysterious events. Now that they are
+     settled finally--I may say that only a happy chance set us
+     on the right track--we all hope that you will be satisfied
+     with our assurance, and that you will not trouble yourself
+     any more in the matter.--Your affectionate brother,
+
+  'SAMUEL DERING.'
+
+Mr. Dering, after reading this letter, got up and looked in the safe,
+where he found the papers referred to. He rang the bell. 'Checkley, who
+has been at my safe?'
+
+'Nobody but you.'
+
+'Don't tell lies. Who put those papers in the safe?'
+
+'They must have been put there yesterday--you were in the room.'
+
+'Yesterday--what happened yesterday?'
+
+Checkley was silent.
+
+'Who was here yesterday?--Go on, Checkley. Don't be afraid.'
+
+'Sir Samuel was here--and Lady Dering--and Mrs. Arundel--and Miss
+Elsie--and your Partner--and Mr. Athelstan. Two or three more came in
+and went away.'
+
+'That will do. You need tell me no more. I don't want to know the
+particulars.--Checkley, my day's work is done. I have thought so for
+some time past. Now I am certain, I shall retire.'
+
+'No--no,' cried Checkley, the tears running down his face. 'Not to
+retire--after all these years--not to retire.'
+
+'I know now the meaning of my fits of forgetfulness. I have feared and
+suspected it for a long time. While I am lost to myself, I am going
+about the world, doing I know not what. And I will not ask. I may be
+this Edmund Gray who preaches Socialism and gives me his precious
+tracts. I may be some one else. I say, Checkley, that I know now what
+has happened to me. Deny it if you can--if you can, I say.'
+
+Checkley did not offer any denial. He hung his head. 'This is the
+meaning of Elsie's strange hints and queer protestations. Half my time I
+am a madman--a madman.--Checkley, ask Mr. Austin to come to me at once.
+My day is done.' He closed his open blotting-pad and placed the unopened
+letters beside it. Then he rose and pushed back his chair--the chair in
+which he had sat for fifty years and more. 'My day is done--my day is
+done.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+THE LAST
+
+
+Mr. Dering left his office, went back to Gray's Inn, and sat down again
+before the Ivory Gate. Those who have once sat for an hour or two in
+this place return to it again and again and never leave it. It is, to
+begin with, the most beautiful gate ever erected. The brain and wit and
+fancy of man could never conceive such a gate, could never execute such
+a conception. It is all of pure ivory, carved with flowers such as never
+grew; curving and flowing lines leading nowhere; figures of maidens
+lovely beyond all dreams; philosophers whose wisdom reaches unto the
+Heavens; statesmen who discern the gathering forces and control the
+destinies of a nation; inventors who conquer nature; physicians who
+prolong life; ecclesiastics who convert the Carthusian cell into a bower
+of delight; poets who here find their fantasies divine; men and women in
+a work-a-day dress who wear the faces of the heavenly host.
+
+All the dreamers lie here, not asleep, but dreaming. Their eyes are
+open, but they do not see each other; they see these dreams. Those of
+the young who are also generous come here and dream until they grow
+older and are chained to their work and can dream no more. Men of all
+conditions come here--even the little shop-boy--even the maiden who
+cleans the knives and polishes the boots--all are here. The young Prince
+is here: the little charity boy is here: the lad whose loftiest ambition
+is that he may one day stand in the pulpit of the little Baptist village
+chapel is here: here is the undergraduate who was Captain of Eton and
+will be Senior Classic and Member of Parliament and Minister--even Prime
+Minister--and will belong to History. The poet is here, and the painter,
+and sometimes hither comes the novelist, and, but more rarely, the
+dramatist. Hither comes the musician to lift up his soul with thoughts
+that only music can give; and the singer, so that he sings more than is
+apparent from the words; and the actor, so that he puts things into the
+play never dreamed by him who wrote it. Great is the power, great the
+gifts, of this noble Gate of Ivory.
+
+Sitting before that gate, such a dreamer as Edmund Gray receives strange
+visions. He sees clearly and near at hand the things which might be, yet
+are not, and never can be until man lays down his garb of selfishness
+and puts on the white robes of Charity. To that dreamer the Kingdom of
+Heaven, which seems to some so far off and to others impossible, so that
+they deride the name of it, is actually close at hand--with us--easy to
+enter if we only choose. He exhorts his fellows to enter with him. And
+they would follow, but they cannot because they are held back by custom
+and necessity. They must obey the laws of the multitude, and so they
+stay where they are. And when the dreamer passes away, his memory is
+quickly lost, and the brightness quickly leaves those dimly-lighted
+lives. Yet other dreamers come--every day there arises an Edmund Gray.
+
+Now when Edmund Gray takes the place of Edward Dering, in which guise
+does the soul, in the end, leave the earth? Are the dreams of Edmund
+Gray perhaps the logical development of the doctrines held by Edward
+Dering? Is the present stage of Individual Property--where every man
+works for himself and his household--one through which the world must
+pass before it can reach the higher level of working each for all? First
+men and women hunt, separate: they live apart in hollow trees and caves.
+Then they live together, and the man hunts for his wife and children.
+Next, they live in communities, which grow into towns and tribes and
+nations. Then men rely upon the protection of the law, and work for
+themselves again. That is our present stage: it has lasted long--very
+long. Perhaps it will break up some day: perhaps sooner than we think.
+Who knows? All things are possible--even the crash and wreck of a
+civilisation which has taken thousands of years to build up. And upon it
+may come--one knows not--that other stage which now belongs to the
+dreamer before the Ivory Gate.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The wedding was held then, as Elsie said it should be, shorn of none of
+its splendours, and relieved of the cloud which had hung over them so
+long and threatened them so gloomily. Athelstan the Exile--Athelstan the
+Ne'er-do-well--Athelstan the Profligate--Athelstan the Resident of
+Camberwell--Athelstan the Smirched and Soiled--stood beside the altar,
+tall and gallant, and gave away the bride for all the world to
+see--nobody in the least ashamed of him. There was not any breath of
+scandal left. Here he was, returned from his travels, a tall and proper
+man, dressed in broadcloth, perhaps with money in purse, prosperous and
+successful in the sight of all. His mother gazed upon him when she
+should have been looking at the bride or into her Prayer Book. Her eyes
+were red, but then a mother is allowed a tear or two when her daughter
+leaves the nest. And as to those who had whispered words about family
+jars, quarrels and estrangements, or had spoken against the fair fame of
+the groom, they were now as mute as mice.
+
+All the richer members of the House of Arundel--the City Arundels--were
+present. One of them--chief partner in a leading firm of
+accountants--afterwards computed, for the greater increase of the family
+glory, how many hundreds of thousands of pounds were gathered together
+at one moment beneath that sacred roof. He counted the members, and made
+that little addition, during the performance of the ceremony. Those of
+the Austins who were not disgracefully poor--there are some branches of
+the family, I believe, pretty low down--were also present. And the
+company went to Pembridge Square after the service, gazed admiringly at
+the wedding presents, and drank the health of the bride and bridegroom,
+and gathered with cousinly curiosity round the returned Prodigal. But
+they knew nothing--mind you--of his connection with Camberwell. And
+nothing about his supposed complicity in the Edmund Gray business. There
+had been, happily, no scandal.
+
+Among the company in the church was Mr. Dering. He stood tall and erect,
+his coat buttoned, his face keen and hard, the family lawyer stamped by
+nature and long custom.
+
+Presently, when the service was about half way through, a change came
+over him. His face relaxed: the lines curved just a little laterally,
+the austerity vanished, his eyes brightened. He took off his gloves
+furtively and opened his coat. He was Edmund Gray. In that capacity he
+afterwards drank to the bride and wished her happiness. And he walked
+all the way from Pembridge Square to South Square, Gray's Inn.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I see in the future an old man growing feeble: he leans upon the arm of
+a girl whom he calls his Scholar, his disciple, and his child. His face
+is serene: he is perfectly happy: the Advent of that Kingdom whose
+glories he preaches is very nigh at hand. He lives in the house of his
+disciple: he has forgotten the very existence of his lawyer: he goes no
+more to Lincoln's Inn: always he is lying, night and day, before that
+miracle of carven work in Ivory. There he watches--it is his Vision--the
+long procession of those who work and sing at their work and are happy,
+work they ever so hard, because they work each for all and all for each.
+And there is no more sorrow or crying and no more pain. What hath the
+Gate of Horn--through which is allowed nothing but what is
+true--bitterly true--absolutely true--nakedly, coldly, shiveringly
+true--to show in comparison with this? A crowd trampling upon each
+other: men who enslave and rob each other: men and women and children
+lying in misery--men and women and children starving.--Let us fly, my
+brothers--let us swiftly fly--let us hasten--to the Gate of Ivory.
+
+
+
+
+_OPINIONS OF THE PRESS_
+
+ON
+
+THE IVORY GATE.
+
+By WALTER BESANT.
+
+
+'The novel shows us throughout that Mr. Besant is one of those
+fortunates who find fresh material.... Mr. Besant is a popular novelist,
+but he shows here an artist's appreciation of whimsical contrast, and an
+artist's skill in the delineation of character.... We are inclined to
+think "The Ivory Gate" worthy of the past reputation of Mr. Besant, and
+indicative of future development.'--SPEAKER.
+
+'It would be impossible to discuss at length the many and great merits
+of "The Ivory Gate" without telling the story, and it is certainly a
+story to be read, not to be told.... Our interest in the story never
+flags for a moment. Neither in the "Golden Butterfly," nor "The Chaplain
+of the Fleet," are there any characters to equal the city knight, Sir
+Samuel Dering, and his wife Hilda, or the old clerk Checkley.'--SATURDAY
+REVIEW.
+
+'The writing in "The Ivory Gate" has that nameless charm which belongs
+to everything that comes from Mr. Besant's pen.'--NATIONAL REVIEW.
+
+'The complications arising from the situation are cleverly worked out,
+with all the love of detail and the dramatic skill which always
+distinguishes Mr. Besant's workmanship.'--TIMES.
+
+'The subject of the novel is a strong one, and it might have been made
+most powerful; but the dreams that come to Mr. Dering through the Ivory
+Gate are such happy ones, and he himself is so much more lovable
+dreaming than awake, that the pathos of the situation does not weigh too
+heavily upon the reader.'--GUARDIAN.
+
+'A story told in the author's happiest manner.... The spirit which
+pervades the story is akin to that which pervades "All Sorts and
+Conditions of Men."... There is a good deal of the feeling of Dickens in
+this pleasantly interesting story.'--SPORTING LIFE.
+
+'The story is interesting, imaginative, abounding in matter for thought,
+and is in Mr. Besant's happiest style.'--DAILY NEWS.
+
+'Mr. Besant's story is a solid boon, a fantasy in which he half escapes
+from the commonplace veracities of existence, and yet keeps his readers'
+feet on the London flagstones throughout.'--ATHENÆUM.
+
+'A delightful work.... A charming tale, full of life and interest.... As
+a story it is in all respects excellent. It is worked out with skill and
+power. There are many very fine passages. "The Ivory Gate" is charming
+in its originality, and in the simplicity and force with which the plot
+is developed.'--SCOTSMAN.
+
+'There is a good deal that is pleasant in "The Ivory Gate."... Both hero
+and heroine are admirable.'--DAILY CHRONICLE.
+
+'Mr. Besant has hit on rather a felicitous subject, which is very well
+wrought out----We venture to predict that hours spent over "The Ivory
+Gate" will be pleasant.'--SCOTTISH LEADER.
+
+'Mr. Besant illustrates a very curious phase of madness; he preaches a
+highly poetical kind of socialism, and he gives us a clear and
+attractive picture of ordinary English life.... The story is full of
+interesting characters.'--GLASGOW HERALD.
+
+'The story is cleverly planned and thoroughly readable from beginning to
+end.'--LEEDS MERCURY.
+
+'"The Ivory Gate" is a novel of considerable interest, and it is a story
+that is told in Mr. Besant's best style.'--PALL MALL GAZETTE.
+
+'The story is cleverly told and effective.'--MORNING POST.
+
+
+
+
+[_October, 1892_]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A List of Books
+
+PUBLISHED BY
+
+CHATTO & WINDUS,
+
+214, Piccadilly, London, W.
+
+_Sold by all Booksellers, or sent post-free for the published price by
+the Publishers._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ABOUT.--THE FELLAH:= An Egyptian Novel. By EDMOND ABOUT. Translated by
+SIR RANDAL ROBERTS. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ADAMS (W. DAVENPORT), WORKS BY.
+
+     =A DICTIONARY OF THE DRAMA.= Being a comprehensive Guide to
+     the Plays, Playwrights, Players, and Playhouses of the
+     United Kingdom and America. Crown 8vo half-bound, =12s. 6d.=
+     [_Preparing._]
+
+     =QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES.= Selected by W. D. ADAMS. Post 8vo,
+     cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=AGONY COLUMN (THE) OF "THE TIMES,"= from 1800 to 1870. Edited, with an
+Introduction, by ALICE CLAY. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=AIDE (HAMILTON), WORKS BY.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =CARR OF CARRLYON.=
+
+     =CONFIDENCES.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ALBERT.--BROOKE FINCHLEY'S DAUGHTER.= By MARY ALBERT. Post 8vo, picture
+boards, =2s.=; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ALDEN.--A LOST SOUL.= By W. L. ALDEN. Fcap. 8vo, cl. bds., =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ALEXANDER (MRS.), NOVELS BY.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW?=
+
+     =VALERIE'S FATE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ALLEN (F. M.).--GREEN AS GRASS.= By F. M. ALLEN, Author of "Through
+Green Glasses." With a Frontispiece by JOSEPH SMYTH. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=ALLEN (GRANT), WORKS BY.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.= each.
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+     =THE EVOLUTIONIST AT LARGE.=
+
+     =COLIN CLOUT'S CALENDAR.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =PHILISTIA.=
+
+     =BABYLON.=
+
+     =STRANGE STORIES.=
+
+     =BECKONING HAND.=
+
+     =FOR MAIMIE'S SAKE.=
+
+     =IN ALL SHADES.=
+
+     =THE DEVIL'S DIE.=
+
+     =THIS MORTAL COIL.=
+
+     =THE TENTS OF SHEM.=
+
+     =THE GREAT TABOO.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each.
+
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+
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+
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=AMERICAN LITERATURE, A LIBRARY OF,= from the Earliest Settlement to the
+Present Time. Compiled and Edited by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN and ELLEN
+MACKAY HUTCHINSON. Eleven Vols., royal 8vo, cloth extra, =£6 12s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ARCHITECTURAL STYLES. A HANDBOOK OF=. By A. ROSENGARTEN. Translated by
+W. COLLETT-SANDARS. With 639 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ART (THE) OF AMUSING:= A Collection of Graceful Arts, Games, Tricks,
+Puzzles, and Charades. By FRANK BELLEW. 300 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex.,
+=4s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ARNOLD (EDWIN LESTER), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =THE WONDERFUL ADVENTURES OF PHRA THE PHOENICIAN.= With
+     Introduction by Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, and 12 Illusts. by H. M.
+     PAGET. Cr. 8vo, cl., =3s. 6d.=
+
+     =THE CONSTABLE OF ST. NICHOLAS.= Crown 8vo, cloth, =3s. 6d.=
+     [_Shortly._]
+
+     =BIRD LIFE IN ENGLAND.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ARTEMUS WARD'S WORKS:= The Works of CHARLES FARRER BROWNE, better known
+as ARTEMUS WARD. With Portrait and Facsimile. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+=7s. 6d.=--Also a POPULAR EDITION, post 8vo, picture boards, =2s.=
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+     EDWARD P. HINGSTON. With a Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ASHTON (JOHN), WORKS BY.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =HISTORY OF THE CHAP-BOOKS OF THE 18th CENTURY.= With 334
+     Illusts.
+
+     =SOCIAL LIFE IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE.= With 85
+     Illustrations.
+
+     =HUMOUR, WIT, AND SATIRE OF SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.= With 82
+     Illusts.
+
+     =ENGLISH CARICATURE AND SATIRE ON NAPOLEON THE FIRST.= 115
+     Illusts.
+
+     =MODERN STREET BALLADS.= With 57 Illustrations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BACTERIA.-A SYNOPSIS OF THE BACTERIA AND YEAST FUNGI AND ALLIED
+SPECIES.= By W. B. GROVE, B.A. With 87 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BARDSLEY (REV. C. W.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =ENGLISH SURNAMES:= Their Sources and Significations. Cr. 8vo,
+     cloth, =7s. 6d.=
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+     =CURIOSITIES OF PURITAN NOMENCLATURE.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+     =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=BARING GOULD (S.,= Author of "John Herring," &c.), =NOVELS BY.= Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+each.
+
+     =RED SPIDER.=
+
+     =EVE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BARRETT (FRANK,= Author of "Lady Biddy Fane,") =NOVELS BY.= Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, =2s.= each; cloth. =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =FETTERED FOR LIFE.=
+
+     =THE SIN OF OLGA ZASSOULICH.=
+
+     =BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH.=
+
+     =FOLLY MORRISON.=
+
+     =HONEST DAVIE.=
+
+     =LIEUT. BARNABAS.=
+
+     =A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS.=
+
+     =JOHN FORD;= and =HIS HELPMATE.=
+
+     =A RECOILING VENGEANCE.=
+
+     =FOUND GUILTY.=
+
+     =FOR LOVE AND HONOUR.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BEACONSFIELD, LORD:= A Biography. By T. P. O'CONNOR, M.P. Sixth
+Edition, with an Introduction. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =5s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BEAUCHAMP.--GRANTLEY GRANGE:= A Novel. By SHELSLEY BEAUCHAMP. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
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+
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+the Artists by SYDNEY ARMYTAGE, M.A. Imperial 4to. cloth extra, gilt
+edges, =21s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BECHSTEIN.--AS PRETTY AS SEVEN,= and other German Stories. Collected by
+LUDWIG BECHSTEIN. With Additional Tales by the Brothers GRIMM, and 98
+Illustrations by RICHTER. Square 8vo, cloth extra, =6s. 6d.=; gilt
+edges, =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BEERBOHM.--WANDERINGS IN PATAGONIA;= or, Life among the Ostrich
+Hunters. By JULIUS BEERBOHM. With Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BENNETT (W. C., LL.D.), WORKS BY.= Post 8vo, cloth limp. =2s.= each.
+
+     =A BALLAD HISTORY OF ENGLAND.=
+
+     =SONGS FOR SAILORS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BESANT (WALTER), NOVELS BY.=
+
+Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.= each;
+cl. limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
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+     BARNARD.
+
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+
+     =ALL IN A GARDEN FAIR.= With 6 Illustrations by HARRY FURNISS.
+
+     =DOROTHY FORSTER.= With Frontispiece by CHARLES GREEN.
+
+     =UNCLE JACK,= and other Stories.
+
+     =CHILDREN OF GIBEON.=
+
+     =THE WORLD WENT VERY WELL THEN.= With 12 Illustrations by A.
+     FORESTIER.
+
+     =HERR PAULUS:= His Rise, his Greatness, and his Fall.
+
+     =FOR FAITH AND FREEDOM.= With Illustrations by A. FORESTIER
+     and F. WADDY.
+
+     =TO CALL HER MINE,= &c. With 9 Illustrations by A. FORESTIER.
+
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+
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+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each.
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+     =ARMOREL OF LYONESSE:= A Romance of To-day. With 12 Illusts.
+     by F. BARNARD.
+
+     =ST. KATHERINE'S BY THE TOWER.= With 12 page Illustrations by
+     C. GREEN.
+
+     =VERBENA CAMELLIA STEPHANOTIS,= &c. Frontispiece by GORDON
+     BROWNE.
+
+     =FIFTY YEARS AGO.= With 144 Plates and Woodcuts. Cheaper
+     Edition, Revised, with a New Preface, &c. Crown 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =5s.=
+
+     =THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFERIES.= With Portrait. Cr. 8vo, cl.
+     extra, =6s.=
+
+     =THE ART OF FICTION.= Demy 8vo, =1s.=
+
+     =LONDON.= With 124 Illustrations. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, =18s.=
+
+     =THE IVORY GATE;= A Novel. Three Vols., crown 8vo,
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+
+Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.= each;
+cl. limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =READY-MONEY MORTIBOY.=
+
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+
+     =WITH HARP AND CROWN.=
+
+     =THIS SON OF VULCAN.=
+
+     =THE GOLDEN BUTTERFLY.=
+
+     =THE MONKS OF THELEMA.=
+
+     =BY CELIA'S ARBOUR.=
+
+     =THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.=
+
+     =THE SEAMY SIDE.=
+
+     =THE CASE OF MR. LUCRAFT,= &c.
+
+     ='TWAS IN TRAFALGAR'S BAY=, &c.
+
+     =THE TEN YEARS' TENANT,= &c.
+
+There is also a LIBRARY EDITION of the above Twelve Volumes, handsomely
+set in new type, on a large crown 8vo page, and bound in cloth extra,
+=6s.= each.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BEWICK (THOMAS) AND HIS PUPILS.= By AUSTIN DOBSON. With 95
+Illustrations. Square 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BIERCE.--IN THE MIDST OF LIFE:= Tales of Soldiers and Civilians. By
+AMBROSE BIERCE. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
+     =ACADEMY NOTES,= separate years, from 1875-1887, 1889-1891,
+     each =1s.=
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+     =ACADEMY NOTES, 1875-79.= Complete in One Vol., with 600
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+
+     =ACADEMY NOTES, 1880-84.= Complete in One Vol. with 700
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+     each =1s.=
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+
+     =THE PARIS SOCIETY OF FINE ARTS, 1892.= With Sketches. =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BLAKE (WILLIAM):= India-proof Etchings from his Works by WILLIAM BELL
+SCOTT. With descriptive Text. Folio, half-bound boards, =21s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BLIND (MATHILDE),= Poems by. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =5s.= each.
+
+     =THE ASCENT OF MAN.=
+
+     =DRAMAS IN MINIATURE.= With a Frontispiece by FORD MADOX
+     BROWN.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BOURNE (H. R. FOX), WORKS BY.=
+
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+     of British Commerce. With numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo,
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+     8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BOWERS.--LEAVES FROM A HUNTING JOURNAL.= By GEORGE BOWERS. Oblong
+folio, half-bound, =21s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BOYLE (FREDERICK), WORKS BY.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
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+
+     =CAMP NOTES.=
+
+=SAVAGE LIFE.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, picture
+boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BRAND'S OBSERVATIONS ON POPULAR ANTIQUITIES;= chiefly illustrating the
+Origin of our Vulgar Customs, Ceremonies, and Superstitions. With the
+Additions of Sir HENRY ELLIS, and Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra,
+=7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=BREWER (REV. DR.), WORKS BY.=
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+     =A DICTIONARY OF MIRACLES.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BREWSTER (SIR DAVID), WORKS BY.= Post 8vo cl. ex. =4s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =MORE WORLDS THAN ONE:= Creed of Philosopher and Hope of
+     Christian. Plates.
+
+     =THE MARTYRS OF SCIENCE:= GALILEO, TYCHO BRAHE, and KEPLER.
+     With Portraits.
+
+     =LETTERS ON NATURAL MAGIC.= With numerous Illustrations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BRILLAT-SAVARIN.--GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART.= By BRILLAT-SAVARIN.
+Translated by R. E. ANDERSON, M.A. Post 8vo, half-bound, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BRET HARTE, WORKS BY.=
+
+LIBRARY EDITION. In Seven Volumes, crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.= each.
+
+     =BRET HARTE'S COLLECTED WORKS.= Arranged and Revised by the
+     Author.
+
+     Vol. I. COMPLETE POETICAL AND DRAMATIC WORKS. With Steel
+     Portrait.
+
+     Vol. II. LUCK OF ROARING CAMP--BOHEMIAN PAPERS--AMERICAN
+     LEGENDS.
+
+     Vol. III. TALES OF THE ARGONAUTS--EASTERN SKETCHES.
+
+     Vol. IV. GABRIEL CONROY.
+
+     Vol. V. STORIES--CONDENSED NOVELS, &c.
+
+     Vol. VI. TALES OF THE PACIFIC SLOPE.
+
+     Vol. VII. TALES OF THE PACIFIC SLOPE--II. With Portrait by
+     JOHN PETTIE, R.A.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =THE SELECT WORKS OF BRET HARTE, in Prose and Poetry.= With
+     Introductory Essay by J. M. BELLEW. Portrait of Author, and
+     50 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., =7s. 6d.=
+
+     =BRET HARTE'S POETICAL WORKS.= Hand-made paper & buckram. Cr.
+     8vo, =4s. 6d.=
+
+     THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE. With 28 original Drawings by
+     KATE GREENAWAY, reproduced in Colours by EDMUND EVANS. Small
+     4to, cloth, =5s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =A WAIF OF THE PLAINS.= With 60 Illustrations by STANLEY L.
+     WOOD.
+
+     =A WARD OF THE GOLDEN GATE.= With 59 Illustrations by STANLEY
+     L. WOOD.
+
+     =A SAPPHO OF GREEN SPRINGS,= &c. With Two Illustrations by
+     HUME NISBET.
+
+     =COLONEL STARBOTTLE'S CLIENT, AND SOME OTHER PEOPLE.= With a
+     Frontispiece by FRED. BARNARD.
+
+     =SALLY DOWS,= &c. With a Frontispiece.
+
+     =SUSY:= A Novel. With a Frontispiece. [_Shortly._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =GABRIEL CONROY.=
+
+     =AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG,= &c.
+
+     =THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP,= &c.
+
+     =CALIFORNIAN STORIES.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =FLIP.=
+
+     =MARUJA.=
+
+     =A PHYLLIS OF THE SIERRAS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Fcap. 8vo, picture cover, =1s.= each.
+
+     =THE TWINS OF TABLE MOUNTAIN.=
+
+     =SNOW BOUND AT EAGLE'S.=
+
+     =JEFF BRIGGS'S LOVE STORY.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BRYDGES.--UNCLE SAM AT HOME.= By HAROLD BRYDGES. Post 8vo, illustrated
+boards, =2s.=; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BUCHANAN'S (ROBERT) WORKS.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.= each.
+
+     =SELECTED POEMS OF ROBERT BUCHANAN.= With Frontispiece by T.
+     DALZIEL.
+
+     =THE EARTHQUAKE;= or, Six Days and a Sabbath.
+
+     =THE CITY OF DREAM:= An Epic Poem. With Two Illustrations by
+     P. MACNAB.
+
+     =THE OUTCAST:= A Rhyme for the Time. With 15 Illustrations by
+     RUDOLF BLIND, PETER MACNAB, and HUME NISBET. Small demy 8vo,
+     cloth extra, =8s.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =ROBERT BUCHANAN'S COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS.= With Steel-plate
+     Portrait. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each
+
+     =THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD.=
+
+     =A CHILD OF NATURE.= Frontispiece.
+
+     =GOD AND THE MAN.= With 11 Illustrations by FRED. BARNARD.
+
+     =THE MARTYRDOM OF MADELINE.= With Frontispiece by A. W.
+     COOPER.
+
+     =LOVE ME FOR EVER.= Frontispiece.
+
+     =ANNAN WATER.=
+
+     =FOXGLOVE MANOR.=
+
+     =THE NEW ABELARD.=
+
+     =MATT:= A Story of a Caravan. Front.
+
+     =THE MASTER OF THE MINE.= Front.
+
+     =THE HEIR OF LINNE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BURTON (CAPTAIN).--THE BOOK OF THE SWORD:= Being a History of the Sword
+and its Use in all Countries, from the Earliest Times. By RICHARD F.
+BURTON. With over 400 Illustrations. Square 8vo, cloth extra. =32s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BURTON (ROBERT).=
+
+     =THE ANATOMY OF MELANCHOLY:= A New Edition, with translations
+     of the Classical Extracts. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
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+     6d.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CAINE (T. HALL), NOVELS BY.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each;
+post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =SHADOW OF A CRIME.=
+
+     =A SON OF HAGAR.=
+
+     =THE DEEMSTER.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CAMERON (COMMANDER).--THE CRUISE OF THE "BLACK PRINCE" PRIVATEER.= By
+V. LOVETT CAMERON, R.N., C.B. With Two Illustrations by P. MACNAB. Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, =5s.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CAMERON (MRS. H. LOVETT), NOVELS BY.= Post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.=
+each.
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+     =JULIET'S GUARDIAN.=
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+     =DECEIVERS EVER.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CARLYLE (THOMAS) ON THE CHOICE OF BOOKS.= With Life by R. H. SHEPHERD,
+and Three Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra, =1s. 6d.=
+
+     =THE CORRESPONDENCE OF THOMAS CARLYLE AND RALPH WALDO
+     EMERSON, 1834 to 1872.= Edited by CHARLES ELIOT NORTON. With
+     Portraits. Two Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, =24s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CARLYLE (JANE WELSH), LIFE OF.= By Mrs. ALEXANDER IRELAND. With
+Portrait and Facsimile Letter. Small demy 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CHAPMAN'S (GEORGE) WORKS.= Vol. I. contains the Plays complete,
+including the doubtful ones. Vol. II., the Poems and Minor Translations,
+with an Introductory Essay by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE. Vol. III., the
+Translations of the Iliad and Odyssey. Three Vols., crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, =6s.= each.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CHATTO AND JACKSON.--A TREATISE ON WOOD ENGRAVING,= Historical and
+Practical. By WILLIAM ANDREW CHATTO and JOHN JACKSON. With an Additional
+Chapter by HENRY G. BOHN, and 450 fine Illusts. Large 4to. hf.-bd.,
+=28s.=
+
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+=CLARE.--FOR THE LOVE OF A LASS:= A Tale of Tynedale. By AUSTIN CLARE.
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=CLIVE (MRS. ARCHER), NOVELS BY.= Post 8vo, illust. boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =PAUL FERROLL.=
+
+     =WHY PAUL FERROLL KILLED HIS WIFE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CLODD.--MYTHS AND DREAMS.= By EDWARD CLODD, F.R.A.S. Second Edition,
+Revised. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+illustrated boards, =2s.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =24s.=
+
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+     =FROM MIDNIGHT TO MIDNIGHT.=
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+     =BLACKSMITH AND SCHOLAR.=
+
+     =TRANSMIGRATION.=
+
+     =YOU PLAY ME FALSE.=
+
+     =A VILLAGE COMEDY.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =SWEET ANNE PAGE.=
+
+     =A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE.=
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+     =SWEET AND TWENTY.=
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+     =FRANCES.=
+
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+     =ANTONINA.= With a Frontispiece by Sir JOHN GILBERT, R.A.
+
+     =BASIL.= Illustrated by Sir JOHN GILBERT, R.A., and J.
+     MAHONEY.
+
+     =HIDE AND SEEK.= Illustrated by Sir JOHN GILBERT, R.A., and J.
+     MAHONEY.
+
+     =AFTER DARK.= With Illustrations by A. B. HOUGHTON.
+
+     =THE DEAD SECRET.= With a Frontispiece by Sir JOHN GILBERT,
+     R.A.
+
+     =QUEEN OF HEARTS.= With a Frontispiece by Sir JOHN GILBERT,
+     R.A.
+
+     =THE WOMAN IN WHITE.= With Illusts. by Sir J. GILBERT, R.A.,
+     and F. A. FRASER.
+
+     =NO NAME.= With Illustrations by Sir J. E. MILLAIS, R.A., and
+     A. W. COOPER.
+
+     =MY MISCELLANIES.= With a Steel-plate Portrait of WILKIE
+     COLLINS.
+
+     =ARMADALE.= With Illustrations by G. H. THOMAS.
+
+     =THE MOONSTONE.= With Illustrations by G. DU MAURIER and F. A.
+     FRASER.
+
+     =MAN AND WIFE.= With Illustrations by WILLIAM SMALL.
+
+     =POOR MISS FINCH.= Illustrated by G. DU MAURIER and EDWARD
+     HUGHES.
+
+     =MISS OR MRS.?= With Illusts. by S. L. FILDES, R.A., and HENRY
+     WOODS, A.R.A.
+
+     =THE NEW MAGDALEN.= Illustrated by G. DU MAURIER and C. S.
+     REINHARDT.
+
+     =THE FROZEN DEEP.= Illustrated by G. DU MAURIER and J.
+     MAHONEY.
+
+     =THE LAW AND THE LADY.= Illusts. by S. L. FILDES, R.A., and
+     SYDNEY HALL.
+
+     =THE TWO DESTINIES.=
+
+     =THE HAUNTED HOTEL.= Illustrated by ARTHUR HOPKINS.
+
+     =THE FALLEN LEAVES.=
+
+     =JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER.=
+
+     =THE BLACK ROBE.=
+
+     =HEART AND SCIENCE.=
+
+     ="I SAY NO."=
+
+     =A ROGUE'S LIFE.=
+
+     =THE EVIL GENIUS.=
+
+     =LITTLE NOVELS.=
+
+     =THE LEGACY OF CAIN.=
+
+     =BLIND LOVE.= With Preface by WALTER BESANT, and Illusts. by
+     A. FORESTIER.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=COLLINS (JOHN CHURTON. M.A.), BOOKS BY.=
+
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+
+     =A MONOGRAPH ON DEAN SWIFT.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =8s.=
+     [_Shortly._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=COLMAN'S HUMOROUS WORKS:= "Broad Grins," "My Nightgown and Slippers,"
+and other Humorous Works of GEORGE COLMAN. With Life by G. B. BUCKSTONE,
+and Frontispiece by HOGARTH. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=COLMORE.--A VALLEY OF SHADOWS.= By G. COLMORE, Author of "A Conspiracy
+of Silence." Two Vols., crown 8vo.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=COLQUHOUN.--EVERY INCH A SOLDIER:= A Novel. By M. J. COLQUHOUN. Post
+8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CONVALESCENT COOKERY:= A Family Handbook. By CATHERINE RYAN. Crown 8vo,
+=1s.=; cloth limp, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CONWAY (MONCURE D.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =DEMONOLOGY AND DEVIL-LORE.= With 65 Illustrations. Third
+     Edition. Two Vols., demy 8vo, cloth extra, =28s.=
+
+     =A NECKLACE OF STORIES.= 25 Illusts. by W. J. HENNESSY. Sq.
+     8vo, cloth, =6s.=
+
+     =PINE AND PALM:= A Novel. Two Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+     =21s.=
+
+     =GEORGE WASHINGTON'S RULES OF CIVILITY= Traced to their
+     Sources and Restored. Fcap. 8vo, Japanese vellum, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=COOK (DUTTON), NOVELS BY.=
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+     =PAUL FOSTER'S DAUGHTER.= Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo,
+     illust. boards, =2s.=
+
+     =LEO.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CORNWALL.--POPULAR ROMANCES OF THE WEST OF ENGLAND;= or, The Drolls,
+Traditions, and Superstitions of Old Cornwall. Collected by ROBERT HUNT,
+F.R.S. Two Steel-plates by GEO. CRUIKSHANK. Cr. 8vo, cl., =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=COTES.--TWO GIRLS ON A BARGE.= By V. CECIL COTES. With 44 Illustrations
+by F. H. TOWNSEND.--Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CRADDOCK.--THE PROPHET OF THE GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS.= By CHARLES EGBERT
+CRADDOCK. Post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.=; cl. limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CRIM.--ADVENTURES OF A FAIR REBEL.= By MATT CRIM. With a Frontispiece
+by DAN. BEARD. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CROKER (B.M.), NOVELS BY.= Post 8vo, =2s.= each; cloth, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =PRETTY MISS NEVILLE.=
+
+     =A BIRD OF PASSAGE.=
+
+     =DIANA BARRINGTON.=
+
+     =PROPER PRIDE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=A FAMILY LIKENESS.= Three Vols., crown 8vo.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CRUIKSHANK'S COMIC ALMANACK.= Complete in TWO SERIES: The FIRST from
+1835 to 1843; the SECOND from 1844 to 1853. A Gathering of the BEST
+HUMOUR of THACKERAY, HOOD, MAYHEW, ALBERT SMITH, A'BECKETT, ROBERT
+BROUGH, &c. With numerous Steel Engravings and Woodcuts by CRUIKSHANK,
+HINE, LANDELLS, &c. Two Vols, crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =THE LIFE OF GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.= By BLANCHARD JERROLD. With 84
+     Illustrations and a Bibliography. Crown 8vo, cloth extra =7s.
+     6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CUMMING (C. F. GORDON), WORKS BY.= Demy 8vo, cl. ex., =8s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =IN THE HEBRIDES.= With Autotype Facsimile and 23
+     Illustrations.
+
+     =IN THE HIMALAYAS AND ON THE INDIAN PLAINS.= With 42
+     Illustrations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=VIA CORNWALL TO EGYPT.= With Photogravure Frontis. Demy 8vo, cl., =7s.
+6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CUSSANS.--A HANDBOOK OF HERALDRY;= with Instructions for Tracing
+Pedigrees and Deciphering Ancient MSS., &c. By JOHN E. CUSSANS. With 408
+Woodcuts, Two Coloured and Two Plain Plates. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+=7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=2s.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+Illustrations by ROBERT CRUIKSHANK. Crown 8vo, cloth extra =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+SONS.= By F. DAVENANT, M.A. Post 8vo, =1s.=; cl., =1s. 6d.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
+     =ONE THOUSAND MEDICAL MAXIMS AND SURGICAL HINTS.=
+
+     =NURSERY HINTS:= A Mother's Guide in Health and Disease.
+
+     =FOODS FOR THE FAT:= A Treatise on Corpulency, and a Dietary
+     for its Cure.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=AIDS TO LONG LIFE.= Crown 8vo, =2s.=; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=DAVIES' (SIR JOHN) COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS,= for the first time
+Collected and Edited, with Memorial-Introduction and Notes, by the Rev.
+A. B. GROSART, D.D. Two Vols., crown 8vo, cloth boards, =12s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+DAWSON, M.B. Edited by PAUL DEVON. With Two Illustrations by HUME
+NISBET. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=DE GUERIN.--THE JOURNAL OF MAURICE DE GUERIN.= Edited by G. S.
+TREBUTIEN. With a Memoir by SAINTE-BEUVE. Translated from the 20th
+French Edition by JESSIE P. FROTHINGHAM. Fcap, 8vo, half-bound, =2s.
+6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+by HENRY ATTWELL. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+THE DERBY, from Diomed to Donovan. With Brief Accounts of THE OAKS. By
+LOUIS HENRY CURZON. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+        *       *       *       *       *
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+=DERWENT (LEITH), NOVELS BY.= Cr. 8vo, cl., =3s. 6d.= ea.; post 8vo,
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+
+     =OUR LADY OF TEARS.=
+
+     =CIRCE'S LOVERS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=DICKENS (CHARLES), NOVELS BY.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each
+
+     =SKETCHES BY BOZ.=
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+     =THE PICKWICK PAPERS.=
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+     =NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.=
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+     =OLIVER TWIST.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =THE SPEECHES OF CHARLES DICKENS,= 1841-1870. With a New
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+     Sq. 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+     =A DICTIONARY OF MIRACLES:= Imitative, Realistic, and
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+     extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+     =THE READER'S HANDBOOK OF ALLUSIONS, REFERENCES, PLOTS, AND
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+     6d.=
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+     extra, =7s. 6d.=
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+     =SLANG DICTIONARY:= Etymological, Historical, and Anecdotal.
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+     8vo, cl., =5s.=
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+     and Out-of-the-Way Matters. By =Eliezer Edwards=. Crown 8vo,
+     cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=DIDEROT.--THE PARADOX OF ACTING.= Translated, with Annotations from
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+a Preface by HENRY IRVING. Crown 8vo, parchment. =4s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
+     =THOMAS BEWICK & HIS PUPILS.= With 95 Illustrations. Square
+     8vo, cloth, =6s.=
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+     roxburghe. =2s. 6d.=
+
+     =EIGHTEENTH CENTURY VIGNETTES.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+     [_Preparing._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=DOBSON (W. T.), WORKS BY.= Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =LITERARY FRIVOLITIES, FANCIES, FOLLIES, AND FROLICS.=
+
+     =POETICAL INGENUITIES AND ECCENTRICITIES.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=DONOVAN (DICK), DETECTIVE STORIES BY.=
+
+Post 8vo illustrated boards, 2s. each; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =THE MAN-HUNTER.=
+
+     =WANTED!=
+
+     =CAUGHT AT LAST!=
+
+     =TRACKED AND TAKEN.=
+
+     =WHO POISONED HETTY DUNCAN?=
+
+     =A DETECTIVE'S TRIUMPHS.=
+
+     =IN THE GRIP OF THE LAW.=
+
+     =FROM INFORMATION RECEIVED.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =THE MAN FROM MANCHESTER.= With 23 Illustrations. Crown 8vo,
+     cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+     =TRACKED TO DOOM.= With 6 full-page Illustrations by GORDON
+     BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=DOYLE (CONAN).--THE FIRM OF GIRDLESTONE.= By A. CONAN DOYLE, Author of
+"Micah Clarke." Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=DRAMATISTS, THE OLD.= With Vignette Portraits. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., =6s.=
+per Vol.
+
+     =BEN JONSON'S WORKS.= With Notes Critical and Explanatory, and
+     a Biographical Memoir by WM. GIFFORD. Edited by Col.
+     CUNNINGHAM. Three Vols.
+
+     =CHAPMAN'S WORKS.= Complete in Three Vols. Vol. I. contains
+     the Plays complete; Vol. II., Poems and Minor Translations,
+     with an Introductory Essay by A. C. SWINBURNE; Vol. III.,
+     Translations of the Iliad and Odyssey.
+
+     =MARLOWE'S WORKS.= Edited, with Notes, by Col. CUNNINGHAM. One
+     Vol.
+
+     =MASSINGER'S PLAYS.= From GIFFORD's Text. Edit by Col.
+     CUNNINGHAM. One Vol.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=DUNCAN (SARA JEANNETTE), WORKS BY.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =A SOCIAL DEPARTURE:= How Orthodocia and I Went round the
+     World by Ourselves. With 111 Illustrations by F. H.
+     TOWNSEND.
+
+     =AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON.= With 80 Illustrations by F. H.
+     TOWNSEND.
+
+     =THE SIMPLE ADVENTURES OF MEM SAHIB.= Numerous Illusts.
+     [_Preparing._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=DYER.--THE FOLK-LORE OF PLANTS.= By Rev. T. F. THISELTON DYER, M.A.
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=EARLY ENGLISH POETS.= Edited, with Introductions and Annotations, by
+Rev. A. B. GROSART, D.D. Crown 8vo, cloth boards, =6s.= per Volume.
+
+     =FLETCHER'S (GILES) COMPLETE POEMS.= One Vol.
+
+     =DAVIES' (SIR JOHN) COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS.= Two Vols.
+
+     =HERRICK'S (ROBERT) COMPLETE COLLECTED POEMS.= Three Vols.
+
+     =SIDNEY'S (SIR PHILIP) COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS.= Three Vols.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=EDGCUMBE.--ZEPHYRUS:= A Holiday in Brazil and on the River Plate. By
+E. R. PEARCE EDGCUMBE. With 41 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+Introduction by Rev. DR. H. WACE, and 4 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+ENGLISHMAN'S HOUSE, THE: A Practical Guide to all interested in
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+By C. J. RICHARDSON. With Coloured Frontispiece and 600 illusts. Crown
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+=EYES, OUR:= How to Preserve Them from Infancy to Old Age. By JOHN
+BROWNING, F.R.A.S. With 70 Illusts. Eighteenth Thousand. Crown 8vo,
+=1s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =THE CHEMICAL HISTORY OF A CANDLE:= Lectures delivered before
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+     numerous Illustrations.
+
+     =ON THE VARIOUS FORCES OF NATURE, AND THEIR RELATIONS TO EACH
+     OTHER.= Edited by WILLIAM CROOKES, F.C.S. With Illustrations.
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+Author of "Double Cunning," &c. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
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+Dining. By FIN-BEC. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
+     =BELLA DONNA.=
+
+     =POLLY.=
+
+     =LADY OF BRANTOME.=
+
+     =NEVER FORGOTTEN.=
+
+     =THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON.=
+
+     =SEVENTY-FIVE BROOKE STREET.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =LIFE OF JAMES BOSWELL (of Auchinleck).= With an Account of
+     his Sayings, Doings, and Writings; and Four Portraits. Two
+     Vols., demy 8vo, cloth, =24s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+GAMBARD. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =5s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+Christ's Victorie on Earth, Christ's Triumph over Death, and Minor
+Poems. With Notes by Rev. A. B. GROSART, D.D. Crown 8vo, cloth boards,
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+=FONBLANQUE (ALBANY).--FILTHY LUCRE.= Post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.=
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+=FRANCILLON (R. E.), NOVELS BY.=
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+Crown 8vo, cloth extra. =3s. 6d.= each: post 8vo, illustrated boards,
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+
+     =ONE BY ONE.=
+
+     =QUEEN COPHETUA.=
+
+     =A REAL QUEEN.=
+
+     =KING OR KNAVE?=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =OLYMPIA.= Post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.=
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+     illust. boards, =2s.=
+
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+     =THE LAWTON GIRL.= With Frontispiece by F. BARNARD. Cr. 8vo,
+     cloth ex., =6s.= post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+8vo, cloth boards, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
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+=FRISWELL (HAIN).--ONE OF TWO:= A Novel. Post 8vo, illust. bds, =2s.=
+
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+
+     =CIRCUS LIFE AND CIRCUS CELEBRITIES.=
+
+     =LIVES OF THE CONJURERS.=
+
+     =THE OLD SHOWMEN AND THE OLD LONDON FAIRS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=FRY'S (HERBERT) ROYAL GUIDE TO THE LONDON CHARITIES.= Showing their
+Name, Date of Foundation, Objects, Income, Officials, &c. Edited by JOHN
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+     GEORGE GLENNY.
+
+     =HOUSEHOLD HORTICULTURE.= By TOM and JANE JERROLD.
+     Illustrated.
+
+     =THE GARDEN THAT PAID THE RENT.= By TOM JERROLD.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =OUR KITCHEN GARDEN:= The Plants we Grow, and How we Cook
+     Them. By TOM JERROLD. Crown 8vo, cloth, =1s. 6d.=
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+     =MY GARDEN WILD, AND WHAT I GREW THERE.= By FRANCIS G. HEATH.
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+cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
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+=GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE, THE.= =1s.= Monthly. In addition to the Articles
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+1892 Annual, written by =T. W. Speight=, is entitled "=THE LOUDWATER
+TRAGEDY=."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GERMAN POPULAR STORIES.= Collected by the Brothers GRIMM and Translated
+by EDGAR TAYLOR. With Introduction by JOHN RUSKIN, and 22 Steel Plates
+after GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. Square 8vo, cloth, =6s. 6d.=; gilt edges, =7s.
+6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GIBBON (CHARLES), NOVELS BY.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =ROBIN GRAY.=
+
+     =LOVING A DREAM.=
+
+     =THE FLOWER OF THE FOREST.=
+
+     =THE GOLDEN SHAFT.=
+
+     =OF HIGH DEGREE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =THE DEAD HEART.=
+
+     =FOR LACK OF GOLD.=
+
+     =WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY?=
+
+     =FOR THE KING.=
+
+     =A HARD KNOT.=
+
+     =QUEEN OF THE MEADOW.=
+
+     =IN PASTURES GREEN.=
+
+     =IN LOVE AND WAR.=
+
+     =A HEART'S PROBLEM.=
+
+     =BY MEAD AND STREAM.=
+
+     =THE BRAES OF YARROW.=
+
+     =FANCY FREE.=
+
+     =IN HONOUR BOUND.=
+
+     =HEART'S DELIGHT.=
+
+     =BLOOD-MONEY.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GIBNEY (SOMERVILLE).--SENTENCED!= Cr. 8vo, =1s.=; cl., =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GILBERT (WILLIAM), NOVELS BY.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards. =2s.=
+each.
+
+     =DR. AUSTIN'S GUESTS.=
+
+     =THE WIZARD OF THE MOUNTAIN.=
+
+     =JAMES DUKE, COSTERMONGER.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GILBERT (W. S.), ORIGINAL PLAYS BY.= Two Series, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     The FIRST SERIES contains: The Wicked World--Pygmalion and
+     Galatea--Charity--The Princess--The Palace of Truth--Trial
+     by Jury.
+
+     The SECOND SERIES: Broken
+     Hearts--Engaged--Sweethearts--Gretchen--Dan'l Druce--Tom
+     Cobb--H.M.S. "Pinafore"--The Sorcerer--Pirates of Penzance.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =EIGHT ORIGINAL COMIC OPERAS= written by W. S. GILBERT.
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+     =THE "GILBERT AND SULLIVAN" BIRTHDAY BOOK:= Quotations for
+     Every Day in the Year, Selected from Plays by W. S. GILBERT
+     set to Music by Sir A. SULLIVAN. Compiled by ALEX. WATSON.
+     Royal 16mo, Jap. leather, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GLANVILLE (ERNEST), NOVELS BY.=
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+     post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
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+     =THE FOSSICKER:= A Romance of Mashonaland. With Frontispiece
+     and Vignette by HUME NISBET. Second Edition. Crown 8vo,
+     cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GLENNY.--A YEAR'S-WORK IN GARDEN AND GREENHOUSE:= Practical Advice to
+Amateur Gardeners as to the Management of the Flower, Fruit, and Frame
+Garden. By GEORGE GLENNY. Post 8vo, =1s.=; cloth limp, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+limp, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+by THEODORE TAYLOR. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =7s. 6d.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+Curious." Crown 8vo, cloth, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GOWING.--FIVE THOUSAND MILES IN A SLEDGE:= A Midwinter Journey Across
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+Map by E. WELLER. Large crown 8vo, cloth extra, =8s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GRAHAM.--THE PROFESSOR'S WIFE:= A Story. By LEONARD GRAHAM. Fcap. 8vo,
+picture cover, =1s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GREEKS AND ROMANS, THE LIFE OF THE,= described from Antique Monuments.
+By ERNST GUHL and W. KONER. Edited by Dr. F. HUEFFER. With 545
+Illustrations. Large crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
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+=GREENWOOD (JAMES), WORKS BY.= Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =THE WILDS OF LONDON.=
+
+     =LOW-LIFE DEEPS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=GREVILLE (HENRY), NOVELS BY:=
+
+     =NIKANOR.= Translated by ELIZA E. CHASE. With 8 Illustrations.
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+     =2s.=
+
+     =A NOBLE WOMAN.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =5s.=; post 8vo,
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+"Victory 'Deane," &c. Crown, 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
+     =BRUETON'S BAYOU.=
+
+     =COUNTRY LUCK.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HAIR, THE:= Its Treatment in Health, Weakness, and Disease. Translated
+from the German of Dr. J. PINCUS. Crown 8vo, =1s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HAKE (DR. THOMAS GORDON), POEMS BY.= Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., =6s.= each.
+
+     =NEW SYMBOLS.=
+
+     =LEGENDS OF THE MORROW.=
+
+     =THE SERPENT PLAY.=
+
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+and GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. Medium 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
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+
+=HALLIDAY (ANDR.).--EVERY-DAY PAPERS.= Post 8vo, bds., =2s.=
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+=HANDWRITING, THE PHILOSOPHY OF.= With over 100 Facsimiles and
+Explanatory Text. By DON FELIX DE SALAMANCA. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s.
+6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HANKY-PANKY:= A Collection of Very Easy Tricks, Very Difficult Tricks,
+White Magic, Sleight of Hand., &c. Edited by W. H. CREMER. With 200
+Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =4s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HARDY (LADY DUFFUS).--PAUL WYNTER'S SACRIFICE.= By Lady DUFFUS HARDY.
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HARDY (THOMAS).--UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.= By THOMAS HARDY, Author of
+"Far from the Madding Crowd." With Portrait and 15 Illustrations. Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HARPER.--THE BRIGHTON ROAD:= Old Times and New on a Classic Highway. By
+CHARLES G. HARPER. With a Photogravure Frontispiece and 90
+Illustrations. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, =16s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HARWOOD--THE TENTH EARL.= By J. BERWICK HARWOOD. Post 8vo, illustrated
+boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HAWEIS (MRS. H. R.), WORKS BY.= Square 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.= each.
+
+     =THE ART OF BEAUTY.= With Coloured Frontispiece and 91
+     Illustrations.
+
+     =THE ART OF DECORATION.= With Coloured Frontispiece and 74
+     Illustrations.
+
+     =CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN.= With 8 Coloured Plates and 30
+     Woodcuts.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =THE ART OF DRESS.= With 32 Illustrations. Post 8vo, =1s.=:
+     cloth, =1s. 6d.=
+
+     =CHAUCER FOR SCHOOLS.= Demy 8vo; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HAWEIS (Rev. H. R., M.A.).--AMERICAN HUMORISTS:= WASHINGTON IRVING,
+OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL, ARTEMUS WARD, MARK TWAIN,
+and BRET HARTE. Third Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HAWLEY SMART.-WITHOUT LOVE OR LICENCE:= A Novel. By HAWLEY SMART. Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HAWTHORNE.--OUR OLD HOME;= By NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE; Annotated with
+Passages from the Author's Note-book, and Illustrated with 31
+Photogravures. Two Vols., crown 8vo, buckram, gilt top, =15s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HAWTHORNE (JULIAN), NOVELS BY.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =GARTH.=
+
+     =ELLICE QUENTIN.=
+
+     =SEBASTIAN STROME.=
+
+     =FORTUNE'S FOOL.=
+
+     =BEATRIX RANDOLPH.=
+
+     =DUST.=
+
+     =DAVID POINDEXTER.=
+
+     =THE SPECTRE OF THE CAMERA.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =MISS CADOGNA.= =LOVE--OR A NAME.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =MRS. GAINSBOROUGH'S DIAMONDS.= Fcap. 8vo, illustrated cover,
+     =1s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HEATH.--MY GARDEN WILD, AND WHAT I GREW THERE.= By FRANCIS GEORGE
+HEATH. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HELPS (SIR ARTHUR), WORKS BY.= Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =ANIMALS AND THEIR MASTERS.=
+
+     =SOCIAL PRESSURE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =IVAN DE BIRON:= A Novel. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, =3s. 6d.=; post
+     8vo, illust. bds., =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HENDERSON.--AGATHA PAGE:= A Novel. By ISAAC HENDERSON. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HERMAN.--A LEADING LADY.= By HENRY HERMAN, joint-Author of "The
+Bishops' Bible." Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=; cloth extra, =2s.
+6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HERRICK'S (ROBERT) HESPERIDES, NOBLE NUMBERS, AND COMPLETE COLLECTED
+POEMS.= With Memorial-Introduction and Notes by the Rev. A. B. GROSART,
+D.D.; Steel Portrait, &c. Three Vols., crown 8vo, cl. bds., =18s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HERTZKA.--FREELAND:= A Social Anticipation. By Dr. THEODOR HERTZKA.
+Translated by ARTHUR RANSOM. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HESSE-WARTEGG.--TUNIS:= The Land and the People. By Chevalier ERNST VON
+HESSE-WARTEGG. With 22 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HILL.--TREASON-FELONY:= A Novel. By JOHN HILL. Two Vols.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HINDLEY (CHARLES), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =TAVERN ANECDOTES AND SAYINGS:= Including Reminiscences
+     connected with Coffee Houses, Clubs, &c. With Illustrations.
+     Crown 8vo, cloth, =3s. 6d.=
+
+     =THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF A CHEAP JACK.= By ONE OF THE
+     FRATERNITY. Edited by CHARLES HINDLEY. Crown 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOEY.--THE LOVER'S CREED.= By Mrs. CASHEL HOEY. Post 8vo, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOLLINGSHEAD (JOHN).--NIAGARA SPRAY.= Crown 8vo, =1s.=
+
+=HOLMES.--THE SCIENCE OF VOICE PRODUCTION AND VOICE PRESERVATION.= By
+GORDON HOLMES, M.D. Crown 8vo, =1s.=; cloth, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOLMES (OLIVER WENDELL), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE.= Illustrated by J.
+     GORDON THOMSON. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=--Another
+     Edition, in smaller type, with an Introduction by G. A.
+     SALA. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s.=
+
+     =THE PROFESSOR AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE.= Post 8vo, cloth limp,
+     =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOOD'S (THOMAS) CHOICE WORKS,= in Prose and Verse. With Life of the
+Author, Portrait, and 200 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s.
+6d.=
+
+     =HOOD'S WHIMS AND ODDITIES.= With 85 Illustrations. Post 8vo,
+     printed on laid paper and half-bound, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOOD (TOM).--FROM NOWHERE TO THE NORTH POLE:= A Noah's Arkæological
+Narrative. By TOM HOOD. With 25 Illustrations by W. BRUNTON and E. C.
+BARNES. Square 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOOK'S (THEODORE) CHOICE HUMOROUS WORKS;= including his Ludicrous
+Adventures, Bons Mots, Puns, and Hoaxes. With Life of the Author,
+Portraits, Facsimiles, and Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s.
+6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOOPER. THE HOUSE OF RABY:= A Novel. By Mrs. GEORGE HOOPER. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOPKINS.--"'TWIXT LOVE AND DUTY:"= A Novel. By TIGHE HOPKINS. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HORNE.--ORION:= An Epic Poem. By RICHARD HENGIST HORNE. With
+Photographic Portrait by SUMMERS. Tenth Edition. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra,
+=7s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HORSE (THE) AND HIS RIDER:= An Anecdotic Medley. By "THORMANBY." Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HUNGERFORD (MRS.),= Author of "Molly Bawn," =NOVELS BY.=
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =A MAIDEN ALL FORLORN.=
+
+     =IN DURANCE VILE.=
+
+     =A MENTAL STRUGGLE.=
+
+     =MARVEL.=
+
+     =A MODERN CIRCE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HUNT.--ESSAYS BY LEIGH HUNT:= A TALE FOR A CHIMNEY CORNER, &c. Edited
+by EDMUND OLLIER. Post 8vo, printed on laid paper and half-bd. =2s.=
+
+        *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+=HUNT (MRS. ALFRED), NOVELS BY.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each: post 8vo, illustrated boards.
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =THE LEADEN CASKET.=
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+     =SELF-CONDEMNED.=
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+     =THAT OTHER PERSON.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =THORNICROFT'S MODEL.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+     =MRS. JULIET.= Three Vols., crown 8vo.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HUTCHISON.--HINTS ON COLT-BREAKING.= By W. M. HUTCHISON. With 25
+Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HYDROPHOBIA:= An Account of M. PASTEUR's System; Technique of his
+Method, and Statistics. By RENAUD SUZOR, M.B. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+=6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=IDLER (THE):= A Monthly Magazine. Edited by JEROME K. JEROME and ROBERT
+E. BARR. Profusely Illustrated. Sixpence Monthly.--Vol. I. now ready,
+cloth extra, price =5s.=; Cases for Binding, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=INGELOW (JEAN).--FATED TO BE FREE.= With 24 Illustrations by G. J.
+PINWELL. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
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+
+=IRISH WIT AND HUMOUR, SONGS OF.= Collected and Edited by A. PERCEVAL
+GRAVES. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=JAMES.--A ROMANCE OF THE QUEEN'S HOUNDS.= By CHARLES JAMES. Post 8vo,
+picture cover, =1s.=; cloth limp, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=JANVIER.--PRACTICAL KERAMICS FOR STUDENTS.= By =Catherine A. Janvier=.
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=JAY (HARRIETT), NOVELS BY.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =THE DARK COLLEEN.=
+
+     =THE QUEEN OF CONNAUGHT.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=JEFFERIES (RICHARD), WORKS BY.= Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =NATURE NEAR LONDON.=
+
+     =THE LIFE OF THE FIELDS.=
+
+     =THE OPEN AIR.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFERIES.= By WALTER BESANT. Second
+     Edition. With a Photograph Portrait. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+     =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=JENNINGS (H. J.), WORKS BY.=
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+
+     =LORD TENNYSON:= A Biographical Sketch. With a Photograph. Cr.
+     8vo, cl., =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=JEROME.--STAGELAND.= By JEROME K. JEROME. With 64 Illustrations by J.
+BERNARD PARTRIDGE. Square 8vo, picture cover, =1s.=; cloth limp, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=JERROLD.--THE BARBER'S CHAIR; & THE HEDGEHOG LETTERS.= By DOUGLAS
+JERROLD. Post 8vo, printed on laid paper and half-bound, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+each.
+
+     =THE GARDEN THAT PAID THE RENT.=
+
+     =HOUSEHOLD HORTICULTURE:= A Gossip about Flowers. Illustrated.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =OUR KITCHEN GARDEN:= The Plants, and How we Cook Them. Cr.
+     8vo, cl., =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=JESSE.--SCENES AND OCCUPATIONS OF A COUNTRY LIFE.= By EDWARD JESSE.
+Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=JONES (WILLIAM, F.S.A.) WORKS BY.= Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =FINGER-RING LORE:= Historical, Legendary, and Anecdotal. With
+     nearly 300 Illustrations. Second Edition, Revised and
+     Enlarged.
+
+     =CREDULITIES, PAST AND PRESENT.= Including the Sea and Seamen,
+     Miners, Talismans, Word and Letter Divination, Exorcising
+     and Blessing of Animals, Birds, Eggs, Luck, &c. With an
+     Etched Frontispiece.
+
+     =CROWNS AND CORONATIONS:= A History of Regalia. With 100
+     Illustrations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=JONSON'S (BEN) WORKS.= With Notes Critical and Explanatory and a
+Biographical Memoir by WILLIAM GIFFORD. Edited by Colonel CUNNINGHAM.
+Three Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.= each.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=JOSEPHUS, THE COMPLETE WORKS OF.= Translated by WHISTON. Containing
+"The Antiquities of the Jews" and "The Wars of the Jews." With 52
+Illustrations and Maps. Two Vols., demy 8vo, half-bound, =12s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+KEMPT. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
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+
+=KERSHAW.--COLONIAL FACTS AND FICTIONS:= Humorous Sketches. By MARK
+KERSHAW. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=; cloth, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=KEYSER.--CUT BY THE MESS:= A Novel. By ARTHUR KEYSER. Crown 8vo,
+picture cover, =1s.=; cloth limp, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=KING (R. ASHE), NOVELS BY.= Cr. 8vo, cl., 3s. 6d. ea.; Post 8vo, bds.,
+=2s.= ea.
+
+     =A DRAWN GAME.=
+
+     ="THE WEARING OF THE GREEN."=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =PASSION'S SLAVE.=
+
+     =BELL BARRY.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+=KNIGHTS (THE) OF THE LION:= A Romance of the Thirteenth Century.
+Edited, with an Introduction, by the MARQUESS OF LORNE, K.T. Cr. 8vo,
+cl. ex., =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=KNIGHT.--THE PATIENT'S VADE MECUM:= How to Get Most Benefit from
+Medical Advice. By WILLIAM KNIGHT, M.R.C.S., and EDWARD KNIGHT, L.R.C.P.
+Crown 8vo, =1s.=; cloth limp, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LAMB'S (CHARLES) COMPLETE WORKS,= in Prose and Verse, including "Poetry
+for Children" and "Prince Dorus." Edited, with Notes and Introduction,
+by R. H. SHEPHERD. With Two Portraits and Facsimile of a page of the
+"Essay on Roast Pig." Crown 8vo, half-bound, =7s. 6d.=
+
+     =THE ESSAYS OF ELIA.= Post 8vo, printed on laid paper and
+     half-bound, =2s.=
+
+     =LITTLE ESSAYS:= Sketches and Characters by =Charles Lamb=,
+     selected from his Letters by PERCY FITZGERALD. Post 8vo,
+     cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+     =THE DRAMATIC ESSAYS OF CHARLES LAMB.= With Introduction and
+     Notes by BRANDER MATTHEWS, and Steel-plate Portrait. Fcap.
+     8vo, hf.-bd., =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LANDOR.--CITATION AND EXAMINATION OF WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE,= &c., before
+Sir THOMAS LUCY, touching Deer-stealing, 19th September, 1582. To which
+Is added, =A CONFERENCE OF MASTER EDMUND SPENSER= with the Earl of
+Essex, touching the State of Ireland, 1595. By WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
+Fcap. 8vo, half-Roxburghe, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LANE.--THE THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS,= commonly called in England =THE
+ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS=. Translated from the Arabic, with Notes,
+by EDWARD WILLIAM LANE. Illustrated by many hundred Engravings from
+Designs by HARVEY. Edited by EDWARD STANLEY POOLE. With a Preface by
+STANLEY LANE-POOLE. Three Vols., demy 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LARWOOD (JACOB), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =THE STORY OF THE LONDON PARKS.= With Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl.
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+     and half-bound, 2s.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =FORENSIC ANECDOTES.=
+
+     =THEATRICAL ANECDOTES.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LEIGH (HENRY S.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =CAROLS OF COCKAYNE.= Printed on hand-made paper, bound in
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+
+     =JEUX D'ESPRIT.= Edited by HENRY S. LEIGH. Post 8vo, cloth
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LEYS (JOHN).--THE LINDSAYS:= A Romance. Post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LIFE IN LONDON;= or, The History of JERRY HAWTHORN and CORINTHIAN TOM.
+With CRUIKSHANK's Coloured Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s.
+6d.= [_New Edition preparing._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LINTON (E. LYNN), WORKS BY.= Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =WITCH STORIES.=
+
+     =OURSELVES:= ESSAYS ON WOMEN.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =SOWING THE WIND.=
+
+     =PATRICIA KEMBALL.=
+
+     =ATONEMENT OF LEAM DUNDAS.=
+
+     =THE WORLD WELL LOST.=
+
+     =UNDER WHICH LORD?=
+
+     ="MY LOVE!"=
+
+     =IONE.=
+
+     =PASTON CAREW,= Millionaire & Miser.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =THE REBEL OF THE FAMILY.=
+
+     =WITH A SILKEN THREAD.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =FREESHOOTING:= Extracts from the Works of Mrs. LYNN LINTON.
+     Post 8vo, cloth, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LONGFELLOW'S POETICAL WORKS.= With numerous Illustrations on Steel and
+Wood. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LUCY.--GIDEON FLEYCE:= A Novel. By HENRY W. LUCY. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LUSIAD (THE) OF CAMOENS.= Translated into English Spenserian Verse by
+ROBERT FFRENCH DUFF. With 14 Plates. Demy 8vo, cloth boards, =18s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MACALPINE (AVERY), NOVELS BY.=
+
+     =TERESA ITASCA,= and other Stories. Crown 8vo, bound in
+     canvas, =2s. 6d.=
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+     =BROKEN WINGS.= With 6 Illusts. by W. J. HENNESSY. Crown 8vo,
+     cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MACCOLL (HUGH), NOVELS BY.=
+
+     =MR. STRANGER'S SEALED PACKET.= Second Edition. Crown 8vo, cl.
+     extra, =5s.=
+
+     =EDNOR WHITLOCK,= Crown 8vo, cloth extra. =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MACDONELL.--QUAKER COUSINS:= A Novel. By AGNES MACDONELL. Crown 8vo,
+cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=McCARTHY (JUSTIN, M.P.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES,= from the Accession of Queen
+     Victoria to the General Election of 1880. Four Vols, demy
+     8vo, cloth extra, =12s.= each.--Also a POPULAR EDITION, in
+     Four Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.= each.--And a Jubilee
+     Edition, with an Appendix of Events to the end of 1886, in
+     Two Vols., large crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =A SHORT HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES.= One Vol., crown 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =6s.=--Also a CHEAP POPULAR EDITION, post 8vo, cloth
+     limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+     =A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES.= Four Vols, demy 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =12s.= each. [Vols. I. & II. _ready_.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards.
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =THE WATERDALE NEIGHBOURS.=
+
+     =MY ENEMY'S DAUGHTER.=
+
+     =A FAIR SAXON.=
+
+     =LINLEY ROCHFORD.=
+
+     =DEAR LADY DISDAIN.=
+
+     =MISS MISANTHROPE.=
+
+     =DONNA QUIXOTE.=
+
+     =THE COMET OF A SEASON.=
+
+     =MAID OF ATHENS.=
+
+     =CAMIOLA:= A Girl with a Fortune.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     ="THE RIGHT HONOURABLE."= By JUSTIN MCCARTHY, M.P., and Mrs.
+     CAMPBELL-PRAED. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=McCARTHY (JUSTIN H., M.P.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.= Four Vols., 8vo, =12s.= each. [Vols. I.
+     & II. _ready_.]
+
+     =AN OUTLINE OF THE HISTORY OF IRELAND.= Crown 8vo, =1s.=; cloth,
+     =1s. 6d.=
+
+     =IRELAND SINCE THE UNION:= Irish History, 1798-1886. Crown
+     8vo, cloth, =6s.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =HAFIZ IN LONDON:= Poems. Small 8vo, gold cloth, =3s. 6d.=
+
+     =HARLEQUINADE:= Poems. Small 4to, Japanese vellum, =8s.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =OUR SENSATION NOVEL.= Crown 8vo, picture cover, =1s.=; cloth
+     limp, =1s. 6d.=
+
+     =DOOM!= An Atlantic Episode. Crown 8vo, picture cover, =1s.=
+
+     =DOLLY:= A Sketch. Crown 8vo, picture cover. =1s.=; cloth limp,
+     =1s. 6d.=
+
+     =LILY LASS:= A Romance. Crown 8vo, picture cover, =1s.=; cloth
+     limp, =1s. 6d.=
+
+     =THE THOUSAND AND ONE DAYS:= Persian Tales. Edited by JUSTIN
+     H. MCCARTHY. With 2 Photogravures by STANLEY L. WOOD. Two
+     Vols., crown 8vo, half-bound, =12s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MACDONALD (GEORGE, LL.D.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =WORKS OF FANCY AND IMAGINATION.= Ten Vols., cl. extra, gilt
+     edges, in cloth case, =21s.= Or the Vols. may be had
+     separately, in grolier cl., at =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     Vol. I. WITHIN AND WITHOUT.--THE HIDDEN LIFE.
+
+     Vol. II. THE DISCIPLE.--THE GOSPEL WOMEN.--BOOK OF
+     SONNETS.--ORGAN SONGS.
+
+     Vol. III. VIOLIN SONGS.--SONGS OF THE DAYS AND NIGHTS.--A
+     BOOK OF DREAMS.--ROADSIDE POEMS.--POEMS FOR CHILDREN.
+
+     Vol. IV. PARABLES.--BALLADS.--SCOTCH SONGS.
+
+     Vol. V. & VI. PHANTASTES: A Faerie Romance.
+
+     Vol. VII. THE PORTENT.
+
+     Vol. VIII. THE LIGHT PRINCESS.--THE GIANT'S HEART.--SHADOWS.
+
+     Vol. IX. CROSS PURPOSES.--THE GOLDEN KEY.--THE
+     CARASOYN.--LITTLE DAYLIGHT.
+
+     Vol. X. THE CRUEL PAINTER.--THE WOW O' RIVVEN.--THE
+     CASTLE.--THE BROKEN SWORDS.--THE GRAY WOLF.--UNCLE
+     CORNELIUS.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =THE POETICAL WORKS OF DR. GEORGE MACDONALD.= Collected and
+     arranged by the Author. 2 vols., crown 8vo, buckram, =12s.=
+     [_Shortly._]
+
+     =A THREEFOLD CORD.= Poems by Three Friends. Edited by Dr.
+     GEORGE MACDONALD. Post 8vo, cloth, =5s.=
+
+     =HEATHER AND SNOW:= A Novel. 2 vols., crown 8vo, [_Shortly._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MACGREGOR.--PASTIMES AND PLAYERS:= Notes on Popular Games. By ROBERT
+MACGREGOR. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MACKAY.--INTERLUDES AND UNDERTONES;= or, Music at Twilight. By CHARLES
+MACKAY, LL.D. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MACLISE PORTRAIT GALLERY (THE) OF ILLUSTRIOUS LITERARY CHARACTERS: 85
+PORTRAITS;= with Memoirs--Biographical, Critical, Bibliographical, and
+Anecdotal--illustrative of the Literature of the former half of the
+Present Century, by WILLIAM BATES, B.A. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s.
+6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MACQUOID (MRS.), WORKS BY.= Square 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =IN THE ARDENNES.= With 50 Illustrations by THOMAS R.
+     MACQUOID.
+
+     =PICTURES AND LEGENDS FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY.= With 34
+     Illustrations by THOMAS R. MACQUOID.
+
+     =THROUGH NORMANDY.= With 92 Illustrations by T. R. MACQUOID,
+     and a Map.
+
+     =THROUGH BRITTANY.= With 35 Illustrations by T. R. MACQUOID,
+     and a Map.
+
+     =ABOUT YORKSHIRE=. With 67 Illustrations by T. R. MACQUOID.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =THE EVIL EYE,= and other Stories.
+
+     =LOST ROSE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MAGIC LANTERN, THE,= and its Management: including full Practical
+Directions for producing the Limelight, making Oxygen Gas, and preparing
+Lantern Slides. By T. C. HEPWORTH. With 10 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo,
+=1s.=; cloth, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MAGICIAN'S OWN BOOK, THE:= Performances with Cups and Balls, Eggs,
+Hats, Handkerchiefs, &c. All from actual Experience. Edited by W. H.
+CREMER. With 200 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =4s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MAGNA CHARTA:= An Exact Facsimile of the Original in the British Museum,
+3 feet by 2 feet, with Arms and Seals emblazoned in Gold and Colours,
+=5s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+     [_Shortly._]
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     KEMBLE.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =WRITTEN IN FIRE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=MASSINGER'S PLAYS.= From the Text of WILLIAM GIFFORD. Edited by Col.
+CUNNINGHAM. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
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+
+     =THE LAWS OF LIFE, AND THEIR RELATION TO DISEASES OF THE
+     SKIN.=
+
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+=MURRAY (D. CHRISTIE), NOVELS BY.=
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+     =A LIFE'S ATONEMENT.=
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+     =VAL STRANGE.=
+
+     =HEARTS.=
+
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+by H. T. MACKENZIE BELL. Cr. 8vo, cl., =3s. 6d.= [_Preparing._]
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+     =CHANCE? OR FATE?=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+Y. NELSON. 100 Illusts. by P. FRENZENY. Crown 8vo, =3s. 6d.=
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+
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+
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+
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+
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+
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+
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+
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+
+     =A COUNTY FAMILY.=
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+
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+
+     =FOUND DEAD.=
+
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+
+     =A MARINE RESIDENCE.=
+
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+
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+
+     =TWO HUNDRED POUNDS REWARD.=
+
+     =THE BEST OF HUSBANDS.=
+
+     =HALVES.=
+
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+
+     =FALLEN FORTUNES.=
+
+     =WHAT HE COST HER.=
+
+     =KIT: A MEMORY.=
+
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     PENNELL.
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+WILLIAM LANGHORNE. With Portraits. Two Vols., demy 8vo, half-bound,
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+Impediment." With a Frontispiece by HAL LUDLOW. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
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+Institute of France. With numerous Illusts. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s.
+6d.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+RANDOLPH, U.S.A. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
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+bds., =2s.= each.
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+     =CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE.= Illustrated by WILLIAM SMALL.--Also a
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+     =IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND.= Illustrated by G. J. PINWELL.
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+     HELEN PATERSON.
+
+     =THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A THIEF,= &c. Illustrated by MATT
+     STRETCH.
+
+     =LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG.= Illustrated by M. ELLEN
+     EDWARDS.
+
+     =THE DOUBLE MARRIAGE.= Illusts. by Sir JOHN GILBERT, R.A., and
+     C. KEENE.
+
+     =THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH.= Illustrated by CHARLES KEENE.
+
+     =HARD CASH.= Illustrated by F. W. LAWSON.
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+     WILLIAM SMALL.
+
+     =FOUL PLAY.= Illustrated by GEORGE DU MAURIER.
+
+     =PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.= Illustrated by ROBERT BARNES.
+
+     =A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION.= Illustrated by EDWARD HUGHES and
+     A. W. COOPER.
+
+     =A SIMPLETON.= Illustrated by KATE CRAUFURD.
+
+     =THE WANDERING HEIR.= Illustrated by HELEN PATERSON, S. L.
+     FILDES, R.A., C. GREEN, and HENRY WOODS, A.R.A.
+
+     =A WOMAN-HATER.= Illustrated by THOMAS COULDERY.
+
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+
+     =GOOD STORIES OF MEN AND OTHER ANIMALS.= Illustrated by E. A.
+     ABBEY, PERCY MACQUOID, R.W.S., and JOSEPH NASH.
+
+     =THE JILT,= and other Stories. Illustrated by JOSEPH NASH.
+
+     =A PERILOUS SECRET.= Illustrated by FRED. BARNARD.
+
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+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =BIBLE CHARACTERS:= Studies of David, Paul, &c. Fcap. 8vo,
+     leatherette, =1s.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =SELECTIONS FROM THE WORKS OF CHARLES READE.= With an
+     Introduction by Mrs. ALEX. IRELAND, and a Steel-Plate
+     Portrait. Crown 8vo, buckram, =6s.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
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+=RIDDELL (MRS. J. H.), NOVELS BY.=
+
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+     boards, =2s.= each.
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+
+     =WEIRD STORIES.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =THE UNINHABITED HOUSE.=
+
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+
+     =FAIRY WATER.=
+
+     =HER MOTHER'S DARLING.=
+
+     =THE NUN'S CURSE.=
+
+     =IDLE TALES.=
+
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+
+=RIMMER (ALFRED), WORKS BY.= Square 8vo, cloth gilt, =7s. 6d.= each.
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+     VANDERHOOF, &c.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+or the Dead?" Two Vols., crown 8vo.
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+=ROBINSON CRUSOE.= By DANIEL DEFOE. (MAJOR'S EDITION.) With 37
+Illustrations by GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. Post 8vo, half-bound, =2s.=
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+     [_Preparing._]
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+=RUSSELL (W. CLARK), BOOKS AND NOVELS BY:=
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+     =ROUND THE GALLEY-FIRE.=
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+     =IN THE MIDDLE WATCH.=
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+
+     =A BOOK FOR THE HAMMOCK.=
+
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
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+     =AN OCEAN TRAGEDY.=
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+     =THE OLD MAID'S SWEETHEART.=
+
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+
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+
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+     to Leigh Hunt, and some Minor Writings and Fragments.
+
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+
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+     =HOW THE POOR LIVE;= and =HORRIBLE LONDON.=
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+     by GEORGE R. SIMS.
+
+     =DAGONET DITTIES.= From the _Referee_.
+
+     =THE CASE OF GEORGE CANDLEMAS.=
+
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+     =THE MYSTERIES OF HERON DYKE.=
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+     =BALLADS.=
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+Illustrated by WALLIS MACKAY. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, =3s. 6d.=
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+
+=SYNTAX'S (DR.) THREE TOURS:= In Search of the Picturesque, in Search of
+Consolation, and in Search of a Wife. With ROWLANDSON's Coloured
+Illustrations, and Life of the Author by J. C. HOTTEN. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TAINE'S HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE.= Translated by HENRY VAN LAUN.
+Four Vols., small demy 8vo, cl. bds., =30s.=--POPULAR EDITION, Two
+Vols., large crown 8vo, cloth extra, =15s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TAYLOR'S (BAYARD) DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB:= Burlesques of Modern
+Writers. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TAYLOR (DR. J. E., F.L.S.), WORKS BY.= Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., =7s. 6d.=
+each.
+
+     =THE SAGACITY AND MORALITY OF PLANTS:= A Sketch of the Life
+     and Conduct of the Vegetable Kingdom. With a Coloured
+     Frontispiece and 100 Illustrations.
+
+     =OUR COMMON BRITISH FOSSILS,= and Where to Find Them. 331
+     Illustrations.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =THE PLAYTIME NATURALIST.= With 360 Illustrations. Crown 8vo,
+     cloth, =5s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TAYLOR'S (TOM) HISTORICAL DRAMAS.= Containing "Clancarty." "Jeanne
+Darc," "'Twixt Axe and Crown," "The Fool's Revenge," "Arkwright's Wife,"
+"Anne Boleyn," "Plot and Passion." Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+The Plays may also be had separately, at =1s.= each.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TENNYSON (LORD):= A Biographical Sketch. By H. J. JENNINGS. With a
+Photograph-Portrait. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=THACKERAYANA:= Notes and Anecdotes. Illustrated by Hundreds of Sketches
+by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=THAMES.--A NEW PICTORIAL HISTORY OF THE THAMES.= By A. S. KRAUSSE. With
+340 Illustrations Post 8vo, =1s.=; cloth, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=THOMAS (BERTHA) NOVELS BY.= Cr. 8vo, cl., =3s. 6d.= ea.; post 8vo,
+=2s.= ea.
+
+     =THE VIOLIN-PLAYER.=
+
+     =PROUD MAISIE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =CRESSIDA.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=THOMSON'S SEASONS,= and =CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.= With Introduction by
+ALLAN CUNNINGHAM, and 48 Illustrations. Post 8vo, half-bound, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=THORNBURY (WALTER), WORKS BY.= Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF J. M. W. TURNER.= Founded upon
+     Letters and Papers furnished by his Friends. With
+     Illustrations in Colours.
+
+     =HAUNTED LONDON.= Edit. by E. WALFORD, M.A. Illusts. by =F. W.
+     Fairholt=, F.S.A.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =OLD STORIES RE-TOLD.=
+
+     =TALES FOR THE MARINES.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TIMBS (JOHN), WORKS BY.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =THE HISTORY OF CLUBS AND CLUB LIFE IN LONDON:= Anecdotes of
+     its Famous Coffee-houses, Hostelries, and Taverns. With 42
+     Illustrations.
+
+     =ENGLISH ECCENTRICS AND ECCENTRICITIES:= Stories of Delusions,
+     Impostures, Sporting Scenes, Eccentric Artists, Theatrical
+     Folk, &c. 48 Illustrations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TROLLOPE (ANTHONY), NOVELS BY.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =THE WAY WE LIVE NOW.=
+
+     =KEPT IN THE DARK.=
+
+     =FRAU FROHMANN.=
+
+     =MARION FAY.=
+
+     =MR. SCARBOROUGH'S FAMILY.=
+
+     =THE LAND-LEAGUERS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE.=
+
+     =JOHN CALDIGATE.=
+
+     =AMERICAN SENATOR.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TROLLOPE (FRANCES E.), NOVELS BY.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =LIKE SHIPS UPON THE SEA.=
+
+     =MABELS PROGRESS.=
+
+     =ANNE FURNESS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TROLLOPE (T. A.).--DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.= Post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TROWBRIDGE.--FARNELL'S FOLLY:= A Novel. By J. T. TROWBRIDGE. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TYTLER (C. C. FRASER-).--MISTRESS JUDITH:= A Novel. By C. C.
+FRASER-TYTLER. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illust.
+boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TYTLER (SARAH), NOVELS BY.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =THE BRIDE'S PASS.=
+
+     =NOBLESSE OBLIGE.=
+
+     =LADY BELL.=
+
+     =BURIED DIAMONDS.=
+
+     =THE BLACKHALL GHOSTS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =WHAT SHE CAME THROUGH.=
+
+     =CITOYENNE JACQUELINE.=
+
+     =SAINT MUNGO'S CITY.=
+
+     =BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.=
+
+     =DISAPPEARED.=
+
+     =THE HUGUENOT FAMILY.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=VILLARI.--A DOUBLE BOND.= By LINDA VILLARI. Fcap. 8vo, picture cover,
+=1s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WALT WHITMAN, POEMS BY.= Edited, with Introduction, by =William M.
+Rossetti=. With Portrait. Cr. 8vo, hand-made paper and buckram, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WALTON AND COTTON'S COMPLETE ANGLER;= or, The Contemplative Man's
+Recreation, by IZAAK WALTON; and Instructions how to Angle for a Trout
+or Grayling in a clear Stream, by CHARLES COTTON. With Memoirs and Notes
+by SIR HARRIS NICOLAS, and 61 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth antique,
+=7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WARD (HERBERT), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =FIVE YEARS WITH THE CONGO CANNIBALS.= With 92 Illustrations
+     by the Author, VICTOR PERARD, and W. B. DAVIS. Third ed.
+     Roy. 8vo, cloth ex., =14s.=
+
+     =MY LIFE WITH STANLEY'S REAR GUARD.= With a Map by F. S.
+     WELLER, F.R.G.S. Post 8vo, =1s.=; cloth, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WARNER.--A ROUNDABOUT JOURNEY.= By CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER. Crown 8vo,
+cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WARRANT TO EXECUTE CHARLES I.= A Facsimile, with the 59 Signatures and
+Seals. Printed on paper 22 in. by 14 in. =2s.=
+
+     =WARRANT TO EXECUTE MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS.= A Facsimile,
+     including Queen Elizabeth's Signature and the Great Seal.
+     =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WASSERMANN--THE DAFFODILS:= A Novel. By LILLIAS WASSERMANN. Crown 8vo,
+=1s.=; cloth, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WATSON.--THE MARQUIS OF CARABAS:= A Novel. By AARON WATSON and LILIAS
+WASSERMANN. 3 vols., crown 8vo.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WALFORD (EDWARD, M.A.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =WALFORD'S COUNTY FAMILIES OF THE UNITED KINGDOM (1892).=
+     Containing the Descent, Birth, Marriage, Education, &c., of
+     12,000 Heads of Families, their Heirs, Offices, Addresses,
+     Clubs, &c. Royal 8vo, cloth gilt, =50s.=
+
+     =WALFORD'S WINDSOR PEERAGE, BARONETAGE, AND KNIGHTAGE (1892).=
+     Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =12s. 6d.=
+
+     =WALFORD'S SHILLING PEERAGE (1892).= Containing a List of the
+     House of Lords, Scotch and Irish Peers, &c. 32mo, cloth. =1s.=
+
+     =WALFORD'S SHILLING BARONETAGE (1892).= Containing a List of
+     the Baronets of the United Kingdom, Biographical Notices,
+     Addresses, &c. 32mo, cloth, =1s.=
+
+     =WALFORD'S SHILLING KNIGHTAGE (1892).= Containing a List of
+     the Knights of the United Kingdom, Biographical Notices,
+     Addresses, &c. 32mo, cloth, =1s.=
+
+     =WALFORD'S SHILLING HOUSE OF COMMONS (1892).= Containing a
+     List of all Members of the New Parliament, their Addresses,
+     Clubs, &c. 32mo, cloth, =1s.=
+
+     =WALFORD'S COMPLETE PEERAGE, BARONETAGE, KNIGHTAGE, AND HOUSE
+     OF COMMONS (1892).= Royal 32mo, cloth extra, gilt edges, =5s.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =TALES OF OUR GREAT FAMILIES.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WEATHER, HOW TO FORETELL THE, WITH POCKET SPECTROSCOPE.= By F. W.
+CORY.--With 10 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, =1s.=; cloth, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WESTALL (William).--TRUST-MONEY.= Three Vols., crown 8vo.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WESTROPP.--HANDBOOK OF POTTERY AND PORCELAIN.= By HODDER M. WESTROPP.
+With Illusts. and List of Marks. Cr. 8vo, cloth, =4s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WHIST.-HOW TO PLAY SOLO WHIST.= By ABRAHAM S. WILKS and CHARLES F.
+PARDON. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WHISTLER'S (MR.) TEN O'CLOCK.= Cr. 8vo, hand-made paper, =1s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WHITE.--THE NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE.= By GILBERT WHITE, M.A. Post
+8vo, printed on laid paper and half-bound, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WILLIAMS (W. MATTIEU, F.R.A.S.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =SCIENCE IN SHORT CHAPTERS.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+     =A SIMPLE TREATISE ON HEAT.= With Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cloth
+     limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+     =THE CHEMISTRY OF COOKERY.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+     =THE CHEMISTRY OF IRON AND STEEL MAKING.= Crown 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =9s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WILLIAMSON (MRS. F. H.).--A CHILD WIDOW.= Post 8vo, bds., =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WILSON (DR. ANDREW, F.R.S.E.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =CHAPTERS ON EVOLUTION.= With 259 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo,
+     cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+     =LEAVES FROM A NATURALIST'S NOTE-BOOK.= Post 8vo, cloth limp,
+     =2s. 6d.=
+
+     =LEISURE-TIME STUDIES.= With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =6s.=
+
+     =STUDIES IN LIFE AND SENSE.= With numerous Illusts. Cr. 8vo,
+     cl. ex., =6s.=
+
+     =COMMON ACCIDENTS: HOW TO TREAT THEM.= Illusts. Cr. 8vo, =1s.=;
+     cl., =1s. 6d.=
+
+     =GLIMPSES OF NATURE.= With 35 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WINTER (J. S.), STORIES BY.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =CAVALRY LIFE.=
+
+     =REGIMENTAL LEGENDS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =A SOLDIER'S CHILDREN.= With 34 Illustrations by E. G. THOMSON
+     and E. STUART HARDY. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WISSMANN.--MY SECOND JOURNEY THROUGH EQUATORIAL AFRICA.= By HERMANN VON
+WISSMANN. With 92 Illusts. Demy 8vo, =16s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WOOD.--SABINA:= A Novel. By Lady WOOD. Post 8vo, boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WOOD (H. F.), DETECTIVE STORIES BY.= Cr. 8vo, =6s.= ea.; post 8vo, bds
+=2s.=
+
+     =PASSENGER FROM SCOTLAND YARD.=
+
+     =ENGLISHMAN OF THE RUE CAIN.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WOOLLEY.--RACHEL ARMSTRONG;= or, Love and Theology. By CELIA PARKER
+WOOLLEY. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=; cloth, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WRIGHT (THOMAS), WORKS BY.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =CARICATURE HISTORY OF THE GEORGES.= With 400 Caricatures,
+     Squibs, &c.
+
+     =HISTORY OF CARICATURE AND OF THE GROTESQUE IN ART,
+     LITERATURE, SCULPTURE, AND PAINTING.= Illustrated by F. W.
+     FAIRHOLT, F.S.A.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WYNMAN.--MY FLIRTATIONS.= By MARGARET WYNMAN. With 13 Illustrations by
+J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=YATES (EDMUND), NOVELS BY.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =LAND AT LAST.=
+
+     =THE FORLORN HOPE.=
+
+     =CASTAWAY.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ZOLA.--THE DOWNFALL.= By EMILE ZOLA. Translated by E. A. VIZETELLY.
+Crown 8vo, cloth, =3s. 6d.=
+
+
+
+
+LISTS OF BOOKS CLASSIFIED IN SERIES.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_For fuller cataloguing, see alphabetical arrangement._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE MAYFAIR LIBRARY.
+
+Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= per Volume.
+
+  =A Journey Round My Room.= By XAVIER DE MAISTRE.
+  =Quips and Quiddities.= By W. D. ADAMS.
+  =The Agony Column of "The Times."=
+  =Melancholy Anatomised:= Abridgment of "Burton's Anatomy of
+      Melancholy."
+  =The Speeches of Charles Dickens.=
+  =Literary Frivolities, Fancies, Follies, and Frolics.= By W. T.
+      DOBSON.
+  =Poetical Ingenuities.= By W. T. DOBSON.
+  =The Cupboard Papers.= By FIN-BEC.
+  =W. S. Gilbert's Plays.= FIRST SERIES.
+  =W. S. Gilbert's Plays.= SECOND SERIES.
+  =Songs of Irish Wit and Humour.=
+  =Animals and Masters.= By Sir A. HELPS.
+  =Social Pressure.= By Sir A. HELPS.
+  =Curiosities of Criticism.= H. J. JENNINGS.
+  =Holmes's Autocrat of Breakfast-Table.=
+  =Pencil and Palette.= By R. KEMPT.
+  =Little Essays:= from LAMB's Letters.
+  =Forensic Anecdotes.= By JACOB LARWOOD.
+  =Theatrical Anecdotes.= JACOB LARWOOD.
+  =Jeux d'Esprit.= Edited by HENRY S. LEIGH.
+  =Witch Stories.= By E. LYNN LINTON.
+  =Ourselves.= By E. LYNN LINTON.
+  =Pastimes & Players.= By R. MACGREGOR.
+  =New Paul and Virginia.= W. H. MALLOCK.
+  =New Republic.= By W. H. MALLOCK.
+  =Puck on Pegasus.= By H. C. PENNELL.
+  =Pegasus Re-Saddled.= By H. C. PENNELL.
+  =Muses of Mayfair.= Ed. H. C. PENNELL.
+  =Thoreau:= His Life & Aims. By H. A. PAGE.
+  =Puniana.= By Hon. HUGH ROWLEY.
+  =More Puniana.= By Hon. HUGH ROWLEY.
+  =The Philosophy of Handwriting.=
+  =By Stream and Sea.= By WM. SENIOR.
+  =Leaves from a Naturalist's Note-Book.= By Dr. ANDREW WILSON.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE GOLDEN LIBRARY.
+
+Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s.= per Volume.
+
+  =Bayard Taylor's Diversions of the Echo Club.=
+  =Bennett's Ballad History of England.=
+  =Bennett's Songs for Sailors.=
+  =Godwin's Lives of the Necromancers.=
+  =Pope's Poetical Works.=
+  =Holmes's Autocrat of Breakfast Table.=
+  =Holmes's Professor at Breakfast Table.=
+  =Jesse's Scenes of Country Life.=
+  =Leigh Hunt's Tale for a Chimney Corner.=
+  =Mallory's Mort d'Arthur:= Selections.
+  =Pascal's Provincial Letters.=
+  =Rochefoucauld's Maxims & Reflections.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE WANDERER'S LIBRARY.
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each.
+
+  =Wanderings In Patagonia.= By JULIUS BEERBOHM. Illustrated.
+  =Camp Notes.= By FREDERICK BOYLE.
+  =Savage Life.= By FREDERICK BOYLE.
+  =Merrie England in the Olden Time.= By G. DANIEL. Illustrated
+      by CRUIKSHANK.
+  =Circus Life.= By THOMAS FROST.
+  =Lives of the Conjurers.= THOMAS FROST.
+  =The Old Showmen and the Old London Fairs.= By THOMAS FROST.
+  =Low-Life Deeps.= By JAMES GREENWOOD.
+  =Wilds of London.= JAMES GREENWOOD.
+  =Tunis.= Chev. HESSE-WARTEGG. 22 Illusts.
+  =Life and Adventures of a Cheap Jack.=
+  =World Behind the Scenes.= P. FITZGERALD.
+  =Tavern Anecdotes and Sayings.=
+  =The Genial Showman.= By E. P. HINGSTON.
+  =Story of London Parks.= JACOB LARWOOD.
+  =London Characters.= By HENRY MAYHEW.
+  =Seven Generations of Executioners.=
+  =Summer Cruising in the South Seas.= By C. WARREN STODDARD.
+      Illustrated.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+POPULAR SHILLING BOOKS.
+
+  =Harry Fludyer at Cambridge.=
+  =Jeff Briggs's Love Story.= BRET HARTE.
+  =Twins of Table Mountain.= BRET HARTE.
+  =Snow-bound at Eagle's.= By BRET HARTE.
+  =A Day's Tour.= By PERCY FITZGERALD.
+  =Esther's Glove.= By R. E. FRANCILLON.
+  =Sentenced!= By SOMERVILLE GIBNEY.
+  =The Professor's Wife.= By L. GRAHAM.
+  =Mrs. Gainsborough's Diamonds.= By JULIAN HAWTHORNE.
+  =Niagara Spray.= By J. HOLLINGSHEAD.
+  =A Romance of the Queen's Hounds.= By CHARLES JAMES.
+  =The Garden that Paid the Rent.= By TOM JERROLD.
+  =Cut by the Mess.= By ARTHUR KEYSER.
+  =Our Sensation Novel.= J. H. MCCARTHY.
+  =Doom!= By JUSTIN H. MCCARTHY, M.P.
+  =Dolly.= By JUSTIN H. MCCARTHY, M.P.
+  =Lily Lass.= JUSTIN H. MCCARTHY, M.P.
+  =Was She Good or Bad?= By W. MINTO.
+  =Notes from the "News."= By JAS. PAYN.
+  =Beyond the Gates.= By E. S. PHELPS.
+  =Old Maid's Paradise.= By E. S. PHELPS.
+  =Burglars In Paradise.= By E. S. PHELPS.
+  =Jack the Fisherman.= By E. S. PHELPS.
+  =Trooping with Crows.= By C. L. PIRKIS.
+  =Bible Characters.= By CHARLES READE.
+  =Rogues.= By R. H. SHERARD.
+  =The Dagonet Reciter.= By G. R. SIMS.
+  =How the Poor Live.= By G. R. SIMS.
+  =Case of George Candlemas.= G. R. SIMS.
+  =Sandycroft Mystery.= T. W. SPEIGHT.
+  =Hoodwinked.= By T. W. SPEIGHT.
+  =Father Damien.= By R. L. STEVENSON.
+  =A Double Bond.= By LINDA VILLARI.
+  =My Life with Stanley's Rear Guard.= By HERBERT WARD.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HANDY NOVELS.
+
+Fcap. 8vo, cloth boards, =1s. 6d.= each.
+
+  =The Old Maid's Sweetheart.= A. ST. AUBYN.
+  =Modest Little Sara.= ALAN ST. AUBYN.
+  =Taken from the Enemy.= H. NEWBOLT.
+  =A Lost Soul.= By W. L. ALDEN.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MY LIBRARY.
+
+Choice Works, printed on laid paper, bound half-Roxburghe, =2s. 6d.=
+each.
+
+  =Four Frenchwomen.= By AUSTIN DOBSON.
+  =Citation and Examination of William Shakspeare.= By W. S. LANDOR.
+  =The Journal of Maurice de Guerin.=
+  =Christie Johnstone.= By CHARLES READE. With a Photogravure
+      Frontispiece.
+  =Peg Woffington.= By CHARLES READE.
+  =The Dramatic Essays of Charles Lamb.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE POCKET LIBRARY.
+
+Post 8vo, printed on laid paper and hf.-bd., =2s.= each.
+
+  =The Essays of Elia.= By CHARLES LAMB.
+  =Robinson Crusoe.= Edited by JOHN MAJOR. With 37 Illusts. by GEORGE
+      CRUIKSHANK.
+  =Whims and Oddities.= By THOMAS HOOD. With 85 Illustrations.
+  =The Barber's Chair,= and =The Hedgehog Letters=. By DOUGLAS JERROLD.
+  =Gastronomy as a Fine Art.= By BRILLAT-SAVARIN. Trans. R. E. ANDERSON,
+      M.A.
+  =The Epicurean,= &c. By THOMAS MOORE.
+  =Leigh Hunt's Essays.= Ed. E. OLLIER.
+  =White's Natural History of Selborne.=
+  =Gulliver's Travels,= and =The Tale of a Tub.= By DEAN SWIFT.
+  =The Rivals, School for Scandal,= and other Plays by RICHARD BRINSLEY
+      SHERIDAN.
+  =Anecdotes of the Clergy.= J. LARWOOD.
+  =Thomson's Seasons.= Illustrated.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PICCADILLY NOVELS.
+
+LIBRARY EDITIONS OF NOVELS BY THE BEST AUTHORS, many Illustrated, crown
+8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each.
+
+By F. M. ALLEN.
+
+  The Green Bird.
+
+By GRANT ALLEN.
+
+  Philistia.
+  Babylon.
+  Strange Stories.
+  Beckoning Hand.
+  In all Shades.
+  Dumaresq's Daughter.
+  The Duchess of Powysland.
+  The Tents of Shem.
+  For Maimie's Sake.
+  The Devil's Die.
+  This Mortal Coil.
+  The Great Taboo.
+  Blood Royal.
+
+By EDWIN L. ARNOLD.
+
+  Phra the Phoenician.
+
+By ALAN ST. AUBYN.
+
+  A Fellow of Trinity.
+
+By Rev. S. BARING GOULD.
+
+  Red Spider.
+  Eve.
+
+By W. BESANT & J. RICE.
+
+  My Little Girl.
+  Case of Mr. Lucraft.
+  This Son of Vulcan.
+  Golden Butterfly.
+  By Celia's Arbour.
+  Monks of Thelema.
+  The Seamy Side.
+  Ten Years' Tenant.
+  Ready-Money Mortiboy.
+  With Harp and Crown.
+  'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay.
+  The Chaplain of the Fleet.
+
+By WALTER BESANT.
+
+  All Sorts and Conditions of Men.
+  The Captains' Room.
+  Herr Paulus.
+  All in a Garden Fair
+  The World Went Very Well Then.
+  For Faith and Freedom.
+  Dorothy Forster.
+  Uncle Jack.
+  Children of Gibeon.
+  Bell of St. Paul's.
+  To Call Her Mine.
+  The Holy Rose.
+  Armorel of Lyonesse.
+  St. Katherine's by the Tower.
+
+By ROBERT BUCHANAN.
+
+  The Shadow of the Sword.
+  A Child of Nature.
+  Matt.
+  Heir of Linne.
+  The Martyrdom of Madeline.
+  God and the Man.
+  Love Me for Ever.
+  Annan Water.
+  The New Abelard.
+  Foxglove Manor.
+  Master of the Mine.
+
+By HALL CAINE.
+
+  The Shadow of a Crime.
+  A Son of Hagar.
+  The Deemster.
+
+MORT. & FRANCES COLLINS.
+
+  Transmigration.
+  From Midnight to Midnight.
+  Blacksmith and Scholar.
+  Village Comedy.
+  You Play Me False.
+
+By WILKIE COLLINS.
+
+  Armadale.
+  After Dark.
+  No Name.
+  Antonina.
+  Basil.
+  Hide and Seek.
+  The Dead Secret.
+  Queen of Hearts.
+  My Miscellanies.
+  Woman in White.
+  The Moonstone.
+  Man and Wife.
+  Poor Miss Finch.
+  Miss or Mrs?
+  New Magdalen.
+  The Frozen Deep.
+  The Two Destinies.
+  Law and the Lady.
+  Haunted Hotel.
+  The Fallen Leaves.
+  Jezebel's Daughter.
+  The Black Robe.
+  Heart and Science.
+  "I Say No."
+  Little Novels.
+  The Evil Genius.
+  The Legacy of Cain.
+  A Rogue's Life.
+  Blind Love.
+
+By DUTTON COOK.
+
+  Paul Foster's Daughter.
+
+By MATT CRIM.
+
+  Adventures of a Fair Rebel.
+
+By WILLIAM CYPLES.
+
+  Hearts of Gold.
+
+By ALPHONSE DAUDET.
+
+  The Evangelist; or, Port Salvation.
+
+By ERASMUS DAWSON.
+
+  The Fountain of Youth.
+
+By JAMES DE MILLE.
+
+  A Castle in Spain.
+
+By J. LEITH DERWENT.
+
+  Our Lady of Tears.
+  Circe's Lovers.
+
+By DICK DONOVAN.
+
+  Tracked to Doom.
+
+By Mrs. ANNIE EDWARDES.
+
+  Archie Lovell.
+
+By G. MANVILLE FENN.
+
+  The New Mistress.
+
+By PERCY FITZGERALD.
+
+  Fatal Zero.
+
+By R. E. FRANCILLON.
+
+  Queen Cophetua.
+  One by One.
+  A Real Queen.
+  King or Knave.
+
+Pref. by Sir BARTLE FRERE.
+
+  Pandurang Hari.
+
+By EDWARD GARRETT.
+
+  The Capel Girls.
+
+By CHARLES GIBBON.
+
+  Robin Gray.
+  Loving a Dream.
+  The Golden Shaft.
+  Of High Degree.
+  The Flower of the Forest.
+
+By E. GLANVILLE.
+
+  The Lost Heiress.
+  The Fossicker.
+
+By CECIL GRIFFITH.
+
+  Corinthia Marazion.
+
+By THOMAS HARDY.
+
+  Under the Greenwood Tree.
+
+By BRET HARTE.
+
+  A Waif of the Plains.
+  A Ward of the Golden Gate.
+  A Sappho of Green Springs.
+  Colonel Starbottle's Client.
+
+By JULIAN HAWTHORNE.
+
+  Garth.
+  Ellice Quentin.
+  Sebastian Strome.
+  Dust.
+  Fortune's Fool.
+  Beatrix Randolph.
+  David Poindexter's Disappearance.
+  The Spectre of the Camera.
+
+By Sir A. HELPS.
+
+  Ivan de Biron.
+
+By ISAAC HENDERSON.
+
+  Agatha Page.
+
+By Mrs. ALFRED HUNT.
+
+  The Leaden Casket.
+  Self-Condemned.
+  That other Person.
+
+By JEAN INGELOW.
+
+  Fated to be Free.
+
+By R. ASHE KING.
+
+  A Drawn Game.
+  "The Wearing of the Green."
+
+By E. LYNN LINTON.
+
+  Patricia Kemball.
+  Under which Lord?
+  "My Love!"
+  Ione.
+  Paston Carew.
+  Sowing the Wind.
+  The Atonement of Leam Dundas.
+  The World Well Lost.
+
+By HENRY W. LUCY.
+
+  Gideon Fleyce.
+
+By Justin McCarthy.
+
+  A Fair Saxon.
+  Linley Rochford.
+  Miss Misanthrope.
+  Donna Quixote.
+  Maid of Athens.
+  Camiola.
+  The Waterdale Neighbours.
+  My Enemy's Daughter.
+  Dear Lady Disdain.
+  The Comet of a Season.
+
+By AGNES MACDONELL.
+
+  Quaker Cousins.
+
+By D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.
+
+  Life's Atonement.
+  Joseph's Coat.
+  Coals of Fire.
+  Val Strange.
+  Hearts.
+  A Model Father.
+  Old Blazer's Hero.
+  By the Gate of the Sea.
+  A Bit of Human Nature.
+  First Person Singular.
+  Cynic Fortune.
+  The Way of the World.
+
+By MURRAY & HERMAN.
+
+  The Bishops' Bible.
+  Paul Jones's Alias.
+
+By HUME NISBET.
+
+  "Bail Up!"
+
+By GEORGES OHNET.
+
+  A Weird Gift.
+
+By Mrs. OLIPHANT.
+
+  Whiteladies.
+
+By OUIDA.
+
+  Held In Bondage.
+  Strathmore.
+  Chandos.
+  Under Two Flags.
+  Idalia.
+  Cecil Castlemaine's Gage.
+  Tricotrin.
+  Puck.
+  Folle Farine.
+  A Dog of Flanders.
+  Pascarel.
+  Signa.
+  Princess Napraxine.
+  Two Little Wooden Shoes.
+  In a Winter City.
+  Ariadne.
+  Friendship.
+  Moths.
+  Ruffino.
+  Pipistrello.
+  A Village Commune.
+  Bimbi.
+  Wanda.
+  Frescoes.
+  Othmar.
+  In Maremma.
+  Syrlin.
+  Guilderoy.
+  Santa Barbara.
+
+By MARGARET A. PAUL.
+
+  Gentle and Simple.
+
+By JAMES PAYN.
+
+  Lost Sir Massingberd.
+  Less Black than We're Painted.
+  A Confidential Agent.
+  A Grape from a Thorn.
+  In Peril and Privation.
+  The Mystery of Mirbridge.
+  The Canon's Ward.
+  Walter's Word.
+  By Proxy.
+  High Spirits.
+  Under One Roof.
+  From Exile.
+  Glow-worm Tales.
+  Talk of the Town.
+  Holiday Tasks.
+  The Burnt Million.
+  The Word and the Will.
+  Sunny Stories.
+
+By E. C. PRICE.
+
+  Valentina.
+  The Foreigners.
+  Mrs. Lancaster's Rival.
+
+By RICHARD PRYCE.
+
+  Miss Maxwell's Affections.
+
+By CHARLES READE.
+
+  It Is Never Too Late to Mend.
+  The Double Marriage.
+  Love Me Little, Love Me Long.
+  The Cloister and the Hearth.
+  The Course of True Love.
+  The Autobiography of a Thief.
+  Put Yourself in his Place.
+  A Terrible Temptation.
+  Singleheart and Doubleface.
+  Good Stories of Men and other Animals.
+  Hard Cash.
+  Peg Woffington.
+  Christie Johnstone.
+  Griffith Gaunt.
+  Foul Play.
+  A Perilous Secret.
+  Wandering Heir.
+  A Woman-Hater.
+  A Simpleton.
+  Readiana.
+  The Jilt.
+
+By Mrs. J. H. RIDDELL.
+
+  The Prince of Wales's Garden Party.
+  Weird Stories.
+
+By F. W. ROBINSON.
+
+  Women are Strange.
+  The Hands of Justice.
+
+By W. CLARK RUSSELL.
+
+  An Ocean Tragedy.
+  My Shipmate Louise.
+  Alone on a Wide Wide Sea.
+
+By JOHN SAUNDERS.
+
+  Guy Waterman.
+  Two Dreamers.
+  Bound to the Wheel.
+  The Lion in the Path.
+
+By KATHARINE SAUNDERS.
+
+  Margaret and Elizabeth.
+  Gideon's Rock.
+  The High Mills.
+  Heart Salvage.
+  Sebastian.
+
+By LUKE SHARP.
+
+  In a Steamer Chair.
+
+By HAWLEY SMART.
+
+  Without Love or Licence.
+
+By R. A. STERNDALE.
+
+  The Afghan Knife.
+
+By BERTHA THOMAS.
+
+  Proud Maisie.
+  The Violin-player.
+
+By FRANCES E. TROLLOPE.
+
+  Like Ships upon the Sea.
+  Anne Furness.
+  Mabel's Progress.
+
+By IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c.
+
+  Stories from Foreign Novelists.
+
+By ANTHONY TROLLOPE.
+
+  Frau Frohmann.
+  Marion Fay.
+  Kept in the Dark.
+  Land-Leaguers.
+  The Way We Live Now.
+  Mr. Scarborough's Family.
+
+By C. C. FRASER-TYTLER.
+
+  Mistress Judith.
+
+By SARAH TYTLER.
+
+  The Bride's Pass.
+  Noblesse Oblige.
+  Lady Bell.
+  Buried Diamonds.
+  The Blackhall Ghosts.
+
+By MARK TWAIN.
+
+  The American Claimant.
+
+By. J. S. WINTER.
+
+  A Soldier's Children.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CHEAP EDITIONS OF POPULAR NOVELS.
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+By ARTEMUS WARD.
+
+  Artemus Ward Complete.
+
+By EDMOND ABOUT.
+
+  The Fellah.
+
+By HAMILTON AIDE.
+
+  Carr of Carrlyon.
+  Confidences.
+
+By MARY ALBERT.
+
+  Brooke Finchley's Daughter.
+
+By Mrs. ALEXANDER.
+
+  Maid, Wife, or Widow?
+  Valerie's Fate.
+
+By GRANT ALLEN.
+
+  Strange Stories.
+  Philistia.
+  Babylon.
+  The Devil's Die.
+  This Mortal Coil.
+  In all Shades.
+  The Beckoning Hand.
+  For Maimie's Sake.
+  Tents of Shem.
+  The Great Taboo.
+
+By ALAN ST. AUBYN.
+
+  A Fellow of Trinity.
+
+By Rev. S. BARING GOULD.
+
+  Red Spider.
+  Eve.
+
+By FRANK BARRETT.
+
+  Fettered for Life.
+  Between Life and Death.
+  The Sin of Olga Zassoulich.
+  Folly Morrison.
+  Honest Davie.
+  Lieut. Barnabas.
+  A Prodigal's Progress.
+  Found Guilty.
+  A Recoiling Vengeance.
+  For Love and Honour.
+  John Ford; and His Helpmate.
+
+By W. BESANT & J. RICE.
+
+  This Son of Vulcan.
+  My Little Girl.
+  Case of Mr. Lucraft.
+  Golden Butterfly.
+  By Celia's Arbour.
+  Monks of Thelema.
+  The Seamy Side.
+  Ten Years' Tenant.
+  Ready-Money Mortiboy.
+  With Harp and Crown.
+  'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay.
+  The Chaplain of the Fleet.
+
+By WALTER BESANT.
+
+  Dorothy Forster.
+  Children of Gibeon.
+  Uncle Jack.
+  Herr Paulus.
+  All Sorts and Conditions of Men.
+  The Captains' Room.
+  All In a Garden Fair.
+  The World Went Very Well Then.
+  For Faith and Freedom.
+  To Call Her Mine.
+  The Bell of St. Paul's.
+  The Holy Rose.
+
+By SHELSLEY BEAUCHAMP.
+
+  Grantley Grange.
+
+By FREDERICK BOYLE.
+
+  Camp Notes.
+  Savage Life.
+  Chronicles of No-man's Land.
+
+By BRET HARTE.
+
+  Flip.
+  Maruja.
+  Californian Stories.
+  Gabriel Conroy.
+  An Heiress of Red Dog.
+  The Luck of Roaring Camp.
+  A Phyllis of the Sierras.
+
+By HAROLD BRYDGES.
+
+  Uncle Sam at Home.
+
+By ROBERT BUCHANAN.
+
+  The Shadow of the Sword.
+  A Child of Nature.
+  God and the Man.
+  Love Me for Ever.
+  Foxglove Manor.
+  The Martyrdom of Madeline.
+  Annan Water.
+  The New Abelard.
+  Matt.
+  The Heir of Linne.
+  The Master of the Mine.
+
+By HALL CAINE.
+
+  The Shadow of a Crime.
+  A Son of Hagar.
+  The Deemster.
+
+By Commander CAMERON.
+
+  The Cruise of the "Black Prince."
+
+By Mrs. LOVETT CAMERON.
+
+  Deceivers Ever.
+  Juliet's Guardian.
+
+By AUSTEN CLARE.
+
+  For the Love of a Lass.
+
+By Mrs. ARCHER CLIVE.
+
+  Paul Ferroll.
+  Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife.
+
+By MACLAREN COBBAN.
+
+  The Cure of Souls.
+
+By C. ALLSTON COLLINS.
+
+  The Bar Sinister.
+
+MORT. & FRANCES COLLINS.
+
+  Sweet Anne Page.
+  Transmigration.
+  From Midnight to Midnight.
+  A Fight with Fortune.
+  Sweet and Twenty.
+  Frances.
+  Village Comedy.
+  You Play me False.
+  Blacksmith and Scholar.
+
+By WILKIE COLLINS.
+
+  Armadale.
+  After Dark.
+  No Name.
+  Antonina.
+  Basil.
+  Hide and Seek.
+  The Dead Secret.
+  Queen of Hearts.
+  Miss or Mrs?
+  New Magdalen.
+  The Frozen Deep.
+  Law and the Lady.
+  The Two Destinies.
+  Haunted Hotel.
+  A Rogue's Life.
+  My Miscellanies.
+  Woman in White.
+  The Moonstone.
+  Man and Wife.
+  Poor Miss Finch.
+  The Fallen Leaves.
+  Jezebel's Daughter.
+  The Black Robe.
+  Heart and Science.
+  "I Say No."
+  The Evil Genius.
+  Little Novels.
+  Legacy of Cain.
+  Blind Love.
+
+By M. J. COLQUHOUN.
+
+  Every Inch a Soldier.
+
+By DUTTON COOK.
+
+  Leo.
+  Paul Foster's Daughter.
+
+By C. EGBERT CRADDOCK.
+
+  Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains.
+
+By R. M. CROKER.
+
+  Pretty Miss Neville.
+  A Bird of Passage.
+  Diana Barrington.
+  Proper Pride.
+
+By WILLIAM CYPLES.
+
+  Hearts of Gold.
+
+By ALPHONSE DAUDET.
+
+  The Evangelist; or, Port Salvation.
+
+By JAMES DE MILLE.
+
+  A Castle in Spain.
+
+By J. LEITH DERWENT.
+
+  Our Lady of Tears.
+  Circe's Lovers.
+
+By CHARLES DICKENS.
+
+  Sketches by Boz.
+  Pickwick Papers.
+  Oliver Twist.
+  Nicholas Nickleby.
+
+By DICK DONOVAN.
+
+  The Man-Hunter.
+  Caught at Last!
+  Tracked and Taken.
+  Who Poisoned Hetty Duncan?
+  The Man from Manchester.
+  A Detective's Triumphs.
+  In the Grip of the Law.
+
+By Mrs. ANNIE EDWARDES.
+
+  A Point of Honour.
+  Archie Lovell.
+
+By M. BETHAM-EDWARDS.
+
+  Felicia.
+  Kitty.
+
+By EDWARD EGGLESTON.
+
+  Roxy.
+
+By PERCY FITZGERALD.
+
+  Bella Donna.
+  Never Forgotten.
+  Polly.
+  Fatal Zero.
+  The Second Mrs. Tillotson.
+  Seventy-five Brooke Street.
+  The Lady of Brantome.
+
+By PERCY FITZGERALD and others.
+
+  Strange Secrets.
+
+ALBANY DE FONBLANQUE.
+
+  Filthy Lucre.
+
+By R. E. FRANCILLON.
+
+  Olympia.
+  One by One.
+  A Real Queen.
+  Queen Cophetua.
+  King or Knave?
+  Romances of Law.
+
+By HAROLD FREDERICK.
+
+  Seth's Brother's Wife.
+  The Lawton Girl.
+
+Pref. by Sir BARTLE FRERE.
+
+  Pandurang Hari.
+
+By HAIN FRISWELL.
+
+  One of Two.
+
+By EDWARD GARRETT.
+
+  The Capel Girls.
+
+By CHARLES GIBBON.
+
+  Robin Gray.
+  Fancy Free.
+  For Lack of Gold.
+  What will the World Say?
+  In Love and War.
+  For the King.
+  In Pastures Green.
+  Queen of Meadow.
+  A Heart's Problem.
+  The Dead Heart.
+  In Honour Bound.
+  Flower of Forest.
+  Braes of Yarrow.
+  The Golden Shaft.
+  Of High Degree.
+  Mead and Stream.
+  Loving a Dream.
+  A Hard Knot.
+  Heart's Delight.
+  Blood-Money.
+
+By WILLIAM GILBERT.
+
+  Dr. Austin's Guests.
+  James Duke.
+  The Wizard of the Mountain.
+
+By ERNEST GLANVILLE.
+
+  The Lost Heiress.
+
+By HENRY GREVILLE.
+
+  A Noble Woman.
+  Nikanor.
+
+By JOHN HABBERTON.
+
+  Brueton's Bayou.
+  Country Luck.
+
+By ANDREW HALLIDAY.
+
+  Every-Day Papers.
+
+By Lady DUFFUS HARDY.
+
+  Paul Wynter's Sacrifice.
+
+By THOMAS HARDY.
+
+  Under the Greenwood Tree.
+
+By J. BERWICK HARWOOD.
+
+  The Tenth Earl.
+
+By JULIAN HAWTHORNE.
+
+  Garth.
+  Ellice Quentin.
+  Fortune's Fool.
+  Miss Cadogna.
+  Sebastian Strome.
+  Dust.
+  Beatrix Randolph.
+  Love--or a Name.
+  David Poindexter's Disappearance.
+  The Spectre of the Camera.
+
+By Sir ARTHUR HELPS.
+
+  Ivan de Biron.
+
+By HENRY HERMAN.
+
+  A Leading Lady.
+
+By Mrs. CASHEL HOEY.
+
+  The Lover's Creed.
+
+By Mrs. GEORGE HOOPER.
+
+  The House of Raby.
+
+By TIGHE HOPKINS.
+
+  'Twixt Love and Duty.
+
+By Mrs. HUNGERFORD.
+
+  A Maiden all Forlorn.
+  In Durance Vile.
+  Marvel.
+  A Mental Struggle.
+  A Modern Circe.
+
+By Mrs. ALFRED HUNT.
+
+  Thornicroft's Model.
+  That Other Person.
+  Self Condemned.
+  Leaden Casket.
+
+By JEAN INGELOW.
+
+  Fated to be Free.
+
+By HARRIETT JAY
+
+  The Dark Colleen.
+  The Queen of Connaught.
+
+By MARK KERSHAW.
+
+  Colonial Facts and Fictions.
+
+By R. ASHE KING.
+
+  A Drawn Game.
+  Passion's Slave.
+  "The Wearing of the Green."
+  Bell Barry
+
+By JOHN LEYS.
+
+  The Lindsays.
+
+By E. LYNN LINTON.
+
+  Patricia Kemball.
+  World Well Lost.
+  Under which Lord?
+  Paston Carew.
+  "My Love!"
+  Ione.
+  The Atonement of Leam Dundas.
+  With a Silken Thread.
+  The Rebel of the Family.
+  Sowing the Wind.
+
+By HENRY W. LUCY.
+
+  Gideon Fleyce.
+
+By JUSTIN McCARTHY.
+
+  A Fair Saxon.
+  Linley Rochford.
+  Miss Misanthrope.
+  Donna Quixote.
+  Maid of Athens.
+  Camiola.
+  Dear Lady Disdain.
+  The Waterdale Neighbours.
+  My Enemy's Daughter.
+  The Comet of a Season.
+
+By AGNES MACDONELL.
+
+  Quaker Cousins.
+
+KATHARINE S. MACQUOID.
+
+  The Evil Eye.
+  Lost Rose.
+
+By W. H. MALLOCK.
+
+  The New Republic.
+
+By FLORENCE MARRYAT.
+
+  Open! Sesame!
+  Fighting the Air.
+  A Harvest of Wild Oats.
+  Written in Fire.
+
+By J. MASTERMAN.
+
+  Half-a-dozen Daughters.
+
+By BRANDER MATTHEWS.
+
+  A Secret of the Sea.
+
+By LEONARD MERRICK.
+
+  The Man who was Good.
+
+By JEAN MIDDLEMASS.
+
+  Touch and Go.
+  Mr. Dorillion.
+
+By Mrs. MOLESWORTH.
+
+  Hathercourt Rectory.
+
+By J. E. MUDDOCK.
+
+  Stories Weird and Wonderful.
+  The Dead Man's Secret.
+
+By D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.
+
+  A Model Father.
+  Joseph's Coat.
+  Coals of Fire.
+  Val Strange.
+  Old Blazer's Hero.
+  Hearts.
+  Way of the World.
+  Cynic Fortune.
+  A Life's Atonement.
+  By the Gate of the Sea.
+  A Bit of Human Nature.
+  First Person Singular.
+
+By MURRAY and HERMAN.
+
+  One Traveller Returns.
+  Paul Jones's Alias.
+  The Bishops' Bible.
+
+By HENRY MURRAY.
+
+  A Game of Bluff.
+
+By ALICE O'HANLON.
+
+  The Unforeseen.
+  Chance? or Fate?
+
+By GEORGES OHNET.
+
+  Doctor Rameau.
+  A Weird Gift.
+  A Last Love.
+
+By Mrs. OLIPHANT.
+
+  Whiteladies.
+  The Primrose Path
+  The Greatest Heiress in England.
+
+By Mrs. ROBERT O REILLY.
+
+  Phoebe's Fortunes.
+
+By OUIDA.
+
+  Held In Bondage.
+  Strathmore.
+  Chandos.
+  Under Two Flags.
+  Idalia.
+  Cecil Castlemaine's Gage.
+  Tricotrin.
+  Puck.
+  Folle Farine.
+  A Dog of Flanders.
+  Pascarel.
+  Signa.
+  Princess Napraxine.
+  In a Winter City.
+  Ariadne.
+  Two Little Wooden Shoes.
+  Friendship.
+  Moths.
+  Pipistrello.
+  A Village Commune.
+  Bimbi.
+  Wanda.
+  Frescoes.
+  In Maremma.
+  Othmar.
+  Guilderoy.
+  Ruffino.
+  Syrlin.
+  Ouida's Wisdom, Wit, and Pathos.
+
+MARGARET AGNES PAUL.
+
+  Gentle and Simple.
+
+By JAMES PAYN.
+
+  Bentinck's Tutor.
+  Murphy's Master.
+  A County Family.
+  At Her Mercy.
+  Cecil's Tryst.
+  Clyffards of Clyffe.
+  Foster Brothers.
+  Found Dead.
+  Best of Husbands.
+  Walter's Word.
+  Halves.
+  Fallen Fortunes.
+  Humorous Stories.
+  £200 Reward.
+  Marine Residence.
+  Mirk Abbey.
+  By Proxy.
+  Under One Roof.
+  High Spirits.
+  Carlyon's Year.
+  From Exile.
+  For Cash Only.
+  Kit.
+  The Canon's Ward
+  Talk of the Town.
+  Holiday Tasks.
+  Lost Sir Massingberd.
+  A Perfect Treasure.
+  A Woman's Vengeance.
+  The Family Scapegrace.
+  What He Cost Her.
+  Gwendoline's Harvest.
+  Like Father, Like Son.
+  Married Beneath Him.
+  Not Wooed, but Won.
+  Less Black than We're Painted.
+  A Confidential Agent.
+  Some Private Views.
+  A Grape from a Thorn.
+  Glow-worm Tales.
+  The Mystery of Mirbridge.
+  The Burnt Million.
+  The Word and the Will.
+  A Prince of the Blood.
+
+By C. L. PIRKIS.
+
+  Lady Lovelace.
+
+By EDGAR A. POE.
+
+  The Mystery of Marie Roget.
+
+By E. C. PRICE.
+
+  Valentina.
+  The Foreigners
+  Mrs. Lancaster's Rival.
+  Gerald.
+
+By CHARLES READE.
+
+  It is Never Too Late to Mend.
+  Christie Johnstone.
+  Put Yourself in His Place.
+  The Double Marriage.
+  Love Me Little, Love Me Long.
+  The Cloister and the Hearth.
+  The Course of True Love.
+  Autobiography of a Thief.
+  A Terrible Temptation.
+  The Wandering Heir.
+  Singleheart and Doubleface.
+  Good Stories of Men and other Animals.
+  Hard Cash.
+  Peg Woffington.
+  Griffith Gaunt.
+  Foul Play.
+  A Simpleton.
+  Readiana.
+  A Woman-Hater.
+  The Jilt.
+  A Perilous Secret.
+
+By Mrs. J. H. RIDDELL.
+
+  Weird Stories.
+  Fairy Water.
+  Her Mother's Darling.
+  Prince of Wales's Garden Party.
+  The Uninhabited House.
+  The Mystery in Palace Gardens.
+  The Nun's Curse.
+  Idle Tales.
+
+By F. W. ROBINSON.
+
+  Women are Strange.
+  The Hands of Justice.
+
+By JAMES RUNCIMAN.
+
+  Skippers and Shellbacks.
+  Grace Balmaign's Sweetheart.
+  Schools and Scholars.
+
+By W. CLARK RUSSELL.
+
+  Round the Galley Fire.
+  On the Fo'k'sle Head.
+  In the Middle Watch.
+  A Voyage to the Cape.
+  A Book for the Hammock.
+  The Mystery of the "Ocean Star."
+  The Romance of Jenny Harlowe.
+  An Ocean Tragedy.
+  My Shipmate Louise.
+
+GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA.
+
+  Gaslight and Daylight.
+
+By JOHN SAUNDERS.
+
+  Guy Waterman.
+  Two Dreamers.
+  The Lion in the Path.
+
+By KATHARINE SAUNDERS.
+
+  Joan Merryweather.
+  The High Mills.
+  Heart Salvage.
+  Sebastian.
+  Margaret and Elizabeth.
+
+By GEORGE R. SIMS.
+
+  Rogues and Vagabonds.
+  The Ring o' Bells.
+  Mary Jane's Memoirs.
+  Mary Jane Married.
+  Tales of To-day.
+  Dramas of Life.
+  Tinkletop's Crime.
+  Zeph: A Circus Story.
+
+By ARTHUR SKETCHLEY.
+
+  A Match in the Dark.
+
+By HAWLEY SMART.
+
+  Without Love or Licence.
+
+By T. W. SPEIGHT.
+
+  The Mysteries of Heron Dyke.
+  The Golden Hoop.
+  Hoodwinked, &c.
+  By Devious Ways.
+  Back to Life.
+
+By R. A. STERNDALE.
+
+  The Afghan Knife.
+
+By R. LOUIS STEVENSON.
+
+  New Arabian Nights.
+  Prince Otto.
+
+BY BERTHA THOMAS.
+
+  Cressida.
+  Proud Maisie.
+  The Violin-player.
+
+By WALTER THORNBURY.
+
+  Tales for the Marines.
+  Old Stories Re-told.
+
+T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE.
+
+  Diamond Cut Diamond.
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+By F. ELEANOR TROLLOPE.
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+  Like Ships upon the Sea.
+  Anne Furness.
+  Mabel's Progress.
+
+By ANTHONY TROLLOPE.
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+  Frau Frohmann.
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+  Kept In the Dark.
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+  The Way We Live Now.
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+  Mr. Scarborough's Family.
+  The Land-Leaguers.
+  The Golden Lion of Granpere.
+
+By J. T. TROWBRIDOE.
+
+  Farnell's Folly.
+
+By IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c.
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+  Stories from Foreign Novelists.
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+By MARK TWAIN.
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+
+By C. C. FRASER-TYTLER.
+
+  Mistress Judith.
+
+By SARAH TYTLER.
+
+  The Bride's Pass.
+  Buried Diamonds.
+  Saint Mungo's City.
+  Lady Bell.
+  Noblesse Oblige.
+  Disappeared.
+  Huguenot Family.
+  Blackhall Ghosts.
+  What She Came Through.
+  Beauty and the Beast.
+  Citoyenne Jaqueline.
+
+By Mrs. F. H. WILLIAMSON.
+
+  A Child Widow.
+
+By J. S. WINTER.
+
+  Cavalry Life.
+  Regimental Legends.
+
+By H. F. WOOD.
+
+  The Passenger from Scotland Yard.
+  The Englishman of the Rue Cain.
+
+By Lady WOOD.
+
+  Sabina.
+
+CELIA PARKER WOOLLEY.
+
+  Rachel Armstrong; or, Love & Theology.
+
+By EDMUND YATES.
+
+  The Forlorn Hope.
+  Castaway.
+  Land at Last.
+
+
+
+
+
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+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Ivory Gate, by Walter Besant.
+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's The Ivory Gate, a new edition, by Walter Besant
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Ivory Gate, a new edition
+
+Author: Walter Besant
+
+Release Date: December 23, 2010 [EBook #34738]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE IVORY GATE, A NEW EDITION ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from
+scanned images of public domain material from the Internet
+Archive.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 366px;">
+<img src="images/ill_01.jpg" width="366" height="600" alt="Book Cover" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE IVORY GATE</h2>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>Sunt gemin&aelig; Somni port&aelig;: quarum altera fertur</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>Cornea, qua veris facilis datur exitus umbris:</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>Altera candenti perfecta nitens elephanto:</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>Sed falsa ad c&aelig;lum mittunt insomnia manes.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Virgil</span>, <i>&AElig;n.</i> VI.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>NOTE.</h2>
+
+<p>After this novel was commenced in <i>Chambers's Journal</i> it was discovered
+that the title had already been used by the late Mr. Mortimer Collins,
+for a novel published in the year 1865. The Author communicated with Mr.
+Collins's representatives, and has to thank them for making no
+opposition to the use of this title.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE IVORY GATE</h2>
+
+<h3>BY</h3>
+
+<h2>WALTER BESANT</h2>
+
+<p class="center">AUTHOR OF 'ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN' ETC.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 88px;">
+<img src="images/ill_02.jpg" width="88" height="100" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h3><i>A NEW EDITION</i></h3>
+
+<h4>London</h4>
+
+<h4>CHATTO &amp; WINDUS, PICCADILLY</h4>
+
+<h4>1893</h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><i>TO</i></h3>
+
+<h3><i>S. SQUIRE SPRIGGE, ESQ., M.D.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i><span class="smcap">My dear Sprigge</span>,</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Since it was you who first instructed me in the existence
+of the brain disease which forms the motif of this story,
+and furnished me with such illustrations of its working as
+enabled me to write the story, I am in honour bound to make
+the most public acknowledgment possible of this fact.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>I therefore beg to inscribe your name on the title page of
+this volume in grateful recognition of an obligation which
+is not by any means discharged by such recognition. I am
+also moved to do so in remembrance of another kind of work
+in which I have been so fortunate as to have your invaluable
+collaboration.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 30em;"><i>Very sincerely yours,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><i><span class="smcap">WALTER BESANT</span>.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><span class="smcap">United University Club, S.W.</span></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;"><i>September 12, 1892.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='right'></td><td align='left'><a href="#PROLOGUE"><b>PROLOGUE: WHO IS EDMUND GRAY?</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>UP THE RIVER</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>IN THE OFFICE</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>THE SELECT CIRCLE</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>A REBELLIOUS CHILD</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>SOMETHING HAPPENS</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>SOMETHING MORE HAPPENS</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENS</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>IN HONOUR OF THE EVENT</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>AT THE GATES OF PARADISE</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>X.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>A MYSTERIOUS DISCOVERY</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XI.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>A MYSTERIOUS DISCOVERY</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XII.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>THE FIRST FIND</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIII.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>THINGS MORE REMARKABLE</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIV.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHECKLEY'S CASE</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XV.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>WHO IS EDMUND GRAY?</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XVI.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>THE VOICE OF DUTY</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XVII.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>WAS HE IN RAGS?</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XVIII.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>THE PRODIGAL AT HOME</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIX.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>THE WHISPER OF CALUMNY</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XX.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><b>HE COMES FROM EDMUND GRAY</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXI.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><b>I AM EDMUND GRAY</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXII.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><b>MASTER AND DISCIPLE</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXIII.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><b>THE HALL OF THE NEW FAITH</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXIV.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><b>CAN HE REMEMBER?</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXV.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><b>WILL HE REMEMBER?</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXVI.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"><b>THE LESSON OF THE STREET</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXVII.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"><b>'I KNOW THE MAN'</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXVIII.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"><b>ATHELSTAN'S DISCOVERY</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXIX.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"><b>CHECKLEY SEES A GHOST</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXX.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX"><b>THE DAY AFTER THE GHOST</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXXI.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI"><b>THE THREE ACCOMPLICES</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXXII.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII"><b>ELSIE AND HER MOTHER</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXXIII.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII"><b>PLENARY CONFESSION</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXXIV.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV"><b>LE CONSEIL DE FAMILLE</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXXV.</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV"><b>THE LAST</b></a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="PROLOGUE" id="PROLOGUE"></a>PROLOGUE</h2>
+
+<h3>WHO IS EDMUND GRAY?</h3>
+
+<p>Mr. Edward Dering, in a rare interval of work, occupied himself with
+looking into his bank book. Those humble persons whom the City,
+estimating the moral and spiritual worth of a man by his income, calls
+'small,' frequently and anxiously examine their bank books, add up the
+columns, and check the entries. Mr. Dering, who was not a small man, but
+a big man, or rather, from a City point of view, a biggish man, very
+seldom looked at his bank book; first because, like other solicitors in
+large practice, he had clerks and accountants to do that kind of work
+for him: next because, like many solicitors, while he managed the
+affairs of other people with unceasing watchfulness, he was apt to
+neglect his own affairs. Happily, when one has an income of some
+thousands, private affairs from time to time force themselves upon their
+owner in the most agreeable manner possible. They obtrude themselves
+upon him. They insist upon being noticed. They compel him to look after
+them respectfully: to remove them from the dulness of the bank, and to
+make them comfortable in investments.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering opened the book, therefore, having for the moment nothing
+else to do, looked at the balance, was satisfied with its appearance,
+and began working backwards, that is to say, upwards, to read the
+entries. Presently, he came to one at which he stopped, holding his
+forefinger on the name.</p>
+
+<p>It was on the right-hand side, the side which to small men<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> is so
+terrifying, because it always does its best to annihilate the cash
+balance, and seems bent upon transforming addition into multiplication,
+so amazing are the results. The name which Mr. Dering read was Edmund
+Gray. The amount placed in the same line opposite to that name was
+720<i>l</i>. Therefore, he had drawn a cheque to the order of Edmund Gray for
+the sum of 720<i>l</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Now, a man may be in very great practice indeed; but if, like Mr.
+Dering, he knows the details of every case that is brought into the
+House, he would certainly remember drawing a cheque for 720<i>l</i>., and the
+reason why it was drawn, and the person for whom it was drawn,
+especially if the cheque was only three weeks old. Seven hundred and
+twenty pounds! It is a sum in return for which many and very substantial
+services must be rendered.</p>
+
+<p>'Edmund Gray!' he murmured. 'Strange! I cannot remember the name of
+Edmund Gray. Who is Edmund Gray? Why did I give him 720<i>l</i>.?'</p>
+
+<p>The strange fact that he should forget so large a sum amused him at
+first. Beside him lay a book which was his private Diary. He opened it
+and looked back for three months. He could find no mention anywhere of
+Edmund Gray. To repeat: he knew all the details of every case that came
+into the House: he signed all the cheques: his memory was as tenacious
+and as searching as the east wind in April; yet this matter of Edmund
+Gray and his cheque for 720<i>l</i>. he could not recall to his mind by any
+effort.</p>
+
+<p>There is a certain stage in brain fatigue when one cannot remember
+names: it is the sure and certain symptom of over-work: the wise man
+recognises the symptom as a merciful warning and obeys it. Mr. Dering
+knew this symptom. 'I must take a holiday,' he said. 'At sixty-seven,
+one cannot afford to neglect the least loss of memory. Edmund Gray! To
+forget Edmund Gray and 720<i>l</i>.! I must run down to the sea-side for a
+fortnight's rest.'</p>
+
+<p>He shut up the bank book and tried to go back to his work. But this name
+came back to him. 'Edmund Gray,' he murmured&mdash;'Edmund Gray. Who on earth
+is this Edmund Gray? Why did he get a cheque for 720<i>l</i>.?'</p>
+
+<p>The thing ceased to amuse him: it began to irritate him: in two minutes
+it began to torture him: he leaned back in his chair: he drummed with
+his fingers on the table: he took<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> up the book and looked at the entry
+again. He got up and walked about the room&mdash;a long lean figure in a
+tight frock-coat. To walk about the room and to swing your arms often
+stimulates the memory. In this case, however, no good effect followed.
+The <i>nomm&eacute;</i> Edmund Gray remained a name and nothing more&mdash;the shadow of
+a name. Mr. Dering rapped the table with his paper-knife, as if to
+conjure up that shadow. Futile superstition! No shadow appeared. But how
+could the shadow of a name&mdash;an unknown name&mdash;carry off 720 golden
+sovereigns?</p>
+
+<p>'I feel as if I am going mad,' he murmured. 'Seven hundred and twenty
+pounds paid by myself in a single lump, only three weeks ago, and I
+remember nothing about it! I have no client named Edmund Gray. The money
+must therefore have been paid by me for some client to this unknown
+person. Yet it was paid by my cheque, and I don't remember it. Strange!
+I never forgot such a thing before.'</p>
+
+<p>There was an office bell on the table. He touched it. A clerk&mdash;an
+elderly clerk&mdash;an ancient clerk&mdash;obeyed the call. He was the clerk who
+sat in the room outside Mr. Dering's office: the clerk who wrote the
+cheques for the chief to sign, brought back the letters when they had
+been copied, directed the letters for the post, received visitors, and
+passed in cards: in fact, the private secretary, stage-manager&mdash;we all
+want a stage-manager in every profession&mdash;or confidential clerk. As
+befits a man of responsibility, he was dressed all in black, his office
+coat being as shiny as a mirror on the arms and on the shoulders: by
+long habit it hung in certain folds or curves which never unbent: his
+face was quite shaven and shorn: all that was left of his white hair was
+cut short: his eyes were keen and even foxy: his lips were thin: his
+general expression was one of watchfulness: when he watched his master
+it was with the attention of a servant: when he watched anybody else it
+was as one who watches a rogue, and would outwit him, if he could, at
+his own roguery. In certain commercial walks of the lower kind, where
+honour and morality consist in the success of attempts to cheat each
+other, this kind of expression is not uncommon. Whether his expression
+was good or bad, he was an excellent clerk: he was always at his post at
+nine in the morning: he never left the office before seven, and, because
+Mr. Dering was a whale for work, he sometimes stayed without a grumble
+until eight or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> even nine. Man and boy, Checkley had been in the office
+of Dering &amp; Son for fifty-five years, entering as an errand-boy at
+twelve.</p>
+
+<p>'Checkley,' said his master, 'look at this bank book. Credit side.
+Fourth entry. Have you got it?'</p>
+
+<p>'Edmund Gray, 720<i>l</i>.,' the clerk read.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes. What is that cheque for? Who is Edmund Gray?'</p>
+
+<p>The clerk looked surprised. 'I don't know,' he said.</p>
+
+<p>'Why did I pay that money?'</p>
+
+<p>The clerk shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>'Did you look at the book when you laid it on the table?'</p>
+
+<p>The clerk nodded.</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;what did you think of it?'</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't think of it at all. It wasn't one of the cheques you told me
+to draw about that time ago. If I had thought, I should have supposed it
+was your private business.'</p>
+
+<p>'I was not aware, Checkley, that I have any private affairs that you do
+not know.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;but you might have.'</p>
+
+<p>'True. I might have. Just so. As I haven't&mdash;who, I ask you again&mdash;who is
+this Edmund Gray?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know.'</p>
+
+<p>'Have you ever heard of any Edmund Gray?'</p>
+
+<p>'Never to my knowledge.'</p>
+
+<p>'This is the first time you have heard that name?' the lawyer persisted.</p>
+
+<p>'The very first time.'</p>
+
+<p>'Consider. Is there any Edmund Gray in connection with any of my
+clients?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not to my knowledge.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not to your knowledge. Has any Edmund Gray ever been employed about the
+office?'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;certainly not.'</p>
+
+<p>'We have recently been painted and papered and whitewashed and new
+carpeted at great expense and inconvenience. Did Edmund Gray conduct any
+of those operations?'</p>
+
+<p>'No.'</p>
+
+<p>'Has the name of Edmund Gray ever been mentioned in any letters that
+have come here?'</p>
+
+<p>It was notorious in the office that Checkley read all the letters that
+came, and that he never forgot the contents of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> any. If you named any
+letter he would at once tell you what was written in it, even if it were
+twenty years old.</p>
+
+<p>'I have never even heard the name of Edmund Gray in any letter or in any
+connection whatever,' the clerk replied firmly.</p>
+
+<p>'I put all these questions, Checkley, because I was pretty certain
+myself from the beginning; but I wanted to make myself quite certain. I
+thought it might be a trick of failing memory. Now, look at the name
+carefully'&mdash;the clerk screwed up his eyes tightly in order to get a good
+grip of the name. 'You see I have given him a cheque for 720<i>l</i>., only
+three weeks ago. I am not the kind of man to give away 720<i>l</i>. for
+nothing. Yet I have actually forgotten the whole business.'</p>
+
+<p>Certainly he did not look the kind of man to forget such a simple thing
+as the giving away of 720<i>l</i>. Quite the contrary. His grave face, his
+iron-grey hair, his firm lips, his keen, steady eyes, apart from the
+methodical regularity with which his papers were arranged before him,
+all proclaimed that he was very far from being that kind of man. Very
+much the reverse, indeed.</p>
+
+<p>'You don't mean to say, sir,' Checkley began, with a change in his face
+from watchfulness to terror&mdash;'you can't mean&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I mean this, Checkley. I know of no Edmund Gray; and unless the bank
+has made a mistake, there has been committed&mdash;a&mdash;what do they call it in
+the law-courts?'</p>
+
+<p>The clerk held the bank book in his hand, staring at his master with
+open eyes. 'What?' he repeated. 'What do they call it? Good Lord! They
+call it forgery&mdash;and for 720<i>l</i>.! And on you, of all people in the
+world! And in this office! In our office!&mdash;our office! What a dreadful
+thing, to be sure! Oh, what a dreadful thing to happen! In our
+office&mdash;here!' The clerk seemed unable to express his astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>'First of all, get me the returned cheques.'</p>
+
+<p>The cheques always came back in the pocket of the bank book. Checkley
+was accustomed to take them out and to file them in their proper place.</p>
+
+<p>Again, Mr. Dering neither drew his cheques nor wrote his letters with
+his own hand. He only signed them. One clerk wrote the letters; another
+drew the cheques by his instruction and dictation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Checkley went back to his own room and returned with a bundle of
+returned drafts. He then looked in the safe&mdash;a great fireproof
+safe&mdash;that stood open in one corner of the room, and took out the
+current cheque book.</p>
+
+<p>'Here it is,' he said. 'Check drawn by you yourself in your own
+handwriting, and properly signed, payable to order&mdash;not crossed&mdash;and
+duly endorsed. Now you understand why I know nothing about it. Edmund
+Gray, Esquire, or order. Seven hundred and twenty pounds. Signed Dering
+&amp; Son. Your own handwriting and your own signature.'</p>
+
+<p>'Let me look.' Mr. Dering took the paper and examined it. His eyes
+hardened as he looked. 'You call this my handwriting, Checkley?'</p>
+
+<p>'I&mdash;I&mdash;I did think it was,' the clerk stammered. 'Let me look again. And
+I think so still,' he added more firmly.</p>
+
+<p>'Then you're a fool. Look again. When did I ever sign like that?'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering's handwriting was one of those which are impossible to be
+read by any except his own clerks, and then only when they know what to
+expect. Thus, when he drew up instructions in lawyer language, he
+expressed the important words by an initial, a medial, or a final
+consonant, and made scratches for all the words between; his clerks,
+however, understood him very well. If he had written a love letter, or a
+farce, or a <i>ballade</i>, or a story, no one, either clerks, or friends, or
+compositors, would have understood anything but a word here and a word
+there. For his signature, however, that was different. It was the
+signature of the Firm: it was a signature a hundred and twenty years
+old: it was an eighteenth-century signature: bold, large, and clear,
+every letter fully formed: with dots and flourishes, the last letter
+concluding with a fantasia of penmanship belonging to a time when men
+knew how to write, belonging to the decorative time of penmanship.</p>
+
+<p>'Two of the dots are out of place,' said Checkley, 'and the flourish
+isn't quite what it should be. But the cheque itself looks like your
+hand,' he added stoutly. 'I ought to have seen that there was something
+wrong about the signature, though it isn't much. I own to that. But the
+writing is like yours, and I would swear to it still.'</p>
+
+<p>'It isn't my handwriting at all, then. Where is the counterfoil?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Checkley turned over the counterfoils. 'What is the date?' he asked.
+'March the 4th? I can't find it. Here are cheques for the 3rd and for
+the 6th, but none at all for the 4th.'</p>
+
+<p>'Let me look.' Strange! There was no counterfoil. And the numbers did
+not agree with that on the cheque.</p>
+
+<p>'You haven't got another cheque book, have you?'</p>
+
+<p>'No; I certainly have not.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering sat with the cheque in his hand, looking at it. Then he
+compared it with a blank cheque. 'Why,' he said, 'this cheque is drawn
+from an old book&mdash;two years old&mdash;one of the books before the bank
+amalgamated and changed its title and the form of the cheques&mdash;not much
+of a change, it is true&mdash;but&mdash;how could we be such fools, Checkley, as
+not to see the difference?'</p>
+
+<p>'Then somebody or other must have got hold of an old cheque book.
+Shameful! To have cheque books lying about for every common rogue to go
+and steal!'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering reflected. Then he looked up and said: 'Look again in the
+safe. In the left-hand compartment over the drawer, I think you will
+find an old cheque book. It belonged to a separate account&mdash;a Trust.
+That has been closed. The book should be there.&mdash;Ah! There it is.&mdash;I
+wonder now,' the lawyer went on, 'how I came to remember that book? It
+is more than two years since I last used it or even thought of it.
+Another trick of memory. We forget nothing, in fact, nothing at all.
+Give it to me. Strange, that I should remember so slight a thing.
+Now&mdash;here are the cheques, you see&mdash;colour the same&mdash;lettering the
+same&mdash;size the same&mdash;the only difference being the style and title of
+the Company. The fellow must have got hold of an old book left about, as
+you say, carelessly. Ah!' His colour changed. 'Here's the very
+counterfoil we wanted! Look! the number corresponds. The cheque was
+actually taken from this very book! a book in my own safe! in this very
+office! Checkley, what does this mean?'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley took the book from his master with a trembling hand, and read
+feebly the writing of the counterfoil, March 4th, 1883. Edmund Gray,
+720<i>l</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>'Lord knows what it means,' he said. 'I never came across such a thing
+in my life before.'</p>
+
+<p>'Most extraordinary! It is two years since I have given<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> a thought to
+the existence of that book. Yet I remembered it the moment when it
+became useful. Well, Checkley, what have you got to say? Can't you
+speak?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing&mdash;nothing. O Lord, what should I have to say. If you didn't draw
+that cheque with your own hand&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I did not draw that cheque with my own hand.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then&mdash;then it must have been drawn by somebody else's hand.'</p>
+
+<p>'Exactly.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps you dictated it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't be a fool, Checkley. Keep your wits together, though this is a
+new kind of case for you. Criminal law is not exactly in your line. Do
+you think I should dictate my own handwriting as well as my own words?'</p>
+
+<p>'No. But I could swear&mdash;I could indeed&mdash;that it is your writing.'</p>
+
+<p>'Let us have no more questions and answers. It is a forgery. It is a
+forgery. It is not a common forgery. It has been committed in my own
+office. Who can have done it? Let me think'&mdash;he placed the cheque and
+the old cheque book before him. 'This book has been in my safe for two
+years. I had forgotten its very existence. The safe is only used for my
+private papers. I open it every morning myself at ten o'clock. I shut it
+when I go up-stairs to lunch. I open it again when I return. I close it
+when I go away. I have not departed from this custom for thirty years. I
+could no more sit in this room with the safe shut&mdash;I could no more go
+away with the safe open&mdash;than I could walk the streets in my shirt
+sleeves. Therefore, not only has the forgery been committed by some one
+who has had access to my safe, but by some one who has stolen the cheque
+in my very presence and before my eyes. This consideration should narrow
+the field.' He looked at the cheque again. 'It is dated March the 4th.
+The date may mean nothing. But it was presented on the 5th. Who came to
+my room on the 4th or the days preceding? Go and find out.'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley retired and brought back his journal.</p>
+
+<p>'You saw on the 4th&mdash;&mdash;' He read the list of callers.</p>
+
+<p>'That doesn't help,' said Mr. Dering.</p>
+
+<p>'On the 1st, 2d, 3d, and 4th you had Mr. Arundel working with you here
+every day from ten till twelve.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Arundel. Yes, I remember. Anybody else?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nobody else.'</p>
+
+<p>'You forget yourself, Checkley,' Mr. Dering said. 'You were, as usual,
+in and out at different times.'</p>
+
+<p>'O Lord! sir&mdash; I hope you don't think&mdash;&mdash;' The old clerk stammered,
+turning pale.</p>
+
+<p>'I think nothing, I want to find out. Go to the bank. See the manager.
+Let him tell you if he can find out by whom the cheque was cashed. If in
+notes&mdash;it must have been in notes&mdash;let those notes be instantly stopped.
+It is not crossed, so that we must not expect anything so simple as the
+Clearing House. Go at once and find out exactly what happened.'</p>
+
+<p>This happened at about half-past ten. The bank was no more than five
+minutes' walk. Yet it was twelve o'clock when the clerk returned.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, what have you found out?' asked the master.</p>
+
+<p>'I have found out a great deal,' Checkley began eagerly. 'First, I saw
+the manager, and I saw the pay clerk. The cheque was handed in by a
+commissionaire. Everybody trusts a commissionaire. The pay clerk knows
+your signature, and thought it was all right. I showed the cheque to the
+manager. He knows your handwriting, and he says he would swear that the
+cheque was drawn by you yourself. So I am not such a fool as you think.'</p>
+
+<p>'Go on.'</p>
+
+<p>'The commissionaire told the pay clerk that he was ordered to take it
+all in ten-pound notes. He took them, put them in his pouch, and walked
+away. He was a one-armed man, and took a long time over the job, and
+didn't seem a bit in a hurry.'</p>
+
+<p>'About the notes?'</p>
+
+<p>'The manager will stop them at once. But he says that if the thing was
+done by an old hand, there must be confederates in it, and there will be
+trouble. However, the notes are stopped. That's done. Then I went on to
+the commissionaires' barracks in the Strand. The sergeant very soon
+found the man, and I had a talk with him. He was employed by an old
+gentleman, he says, staying at the Cecil Hotel, Strand. The old
+gentleman sent him to the bank with instructions to get the money in
+ten-pound notes; and very particular he was with him about not losing
+any of them on the way. He didn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> seem a bit in a hurry either. Took
+the notes from the man and laid them in a pocket-book. It was in the
+coffee-room, and half a dozen other gentlemen were there at the same
+time. But this gentleman seemed alone.'</p>
+
+<p>'Humph! A pretty cool business, upon my word! No hurry about it. Plenty
+of time. That was because they knew that the old cheque book would not
+be found and examined.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why did they write the cheque on the counterfoil? Why did they put the
+cheque book back again&mdash;after they had taken it out?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know. The workings of a forger's brain are not within the
+compass of my experiences. Go on, Checkley.'</p>
+
+<p>'The commissionaire says that he is certain he would know the gentleman
+again.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very good indeed, if we can only find the gentleman.'</p>
+
+<p>'I then went on to the Cecil Hotel and saw the head waiter of the
+coffee-room. He remembered the commissionaire being sent for: he saw the
+bundle of bank-notes brought back from the bank, and he remembers the
+old gentleman very well. Says he should certainly know him again.'</p>
+
+<p>'Did he describe him?'</p>
+
+<p>'There didn't seem anything particular to describe. He was of average
+height, so to speak, dressed in grey trousers and a black frock-coat,
+and was grey-haired. Much as if I was to describe you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! The notes are stopped. Yet in three weeks there has been ample time
+to get them all changed. Every note may have been changed into gold in
+three weeks. An elderly gentleman: grey hair: average height: that tells
+us nothing. Checkley, the thing has been done by some one who had, or
+still has, access to my safe. Perhaps, in some way or other, keys have
+been procured. In that case&mdash;&mdash;' He stepped over to the safe and opened
+a drawer. 'See, Checkley; this drawer is untouched: it is full of
+jewellery and things which belonged to my mother. Nothing touched. Here
+is a bag of spade guineas again&mdash;nothing taken. What do you say to that?
+If the forger had possessed keys, he would, first of all, have cleared
+out the things which he could turn into money without any difficulty and
+very little risk. Nothing taken except that cheque, and the cheque book
+replaced. What do you say to that? Eh?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'I don't know what to say. I'm struck stupid. I never heard of such a
+thing before.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nor I. Why, it must have been done in this room, while the safe was
+open, while I was actually present. That is the only solution possible.
+Again, who has been in this room?'</p>
+
+<p>'All the callers&mdash;I read their names to you&mdash;your clients.'</p>
+
+<p>'They all sit in that chair. They never leave that chair so long as they
+are with me.' He indicated the chair which stood at the corner of the
+lawyer's great table at his left hand. Now the safe was in the far
+corner, on the other side of the room. 'They could not possibly&mdash;&mdash;
+Checkley, the only two who could possibly have access to that safe in
+office hours are yourself and Mr. Arundel.'</p>
+
+<p>'Good heavens! sir&mdash;you can't believe&mdash;you can't actually think&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I believe nothing. I told you so before. I think nothing. I want the
+facts.'</p>
+
+<p>The room was long rather than square, lit by two large windows,
+overlooking the gardens of New Square, Lincoln's Inn. The lawyer sat
+with his back to the fire, protected by a cane-screen, before a large
+table. On his left hand, at the corner of the table, stood the clients'
+chair: on his right hand, between the two windows, was a small table
+with a couple of drawers in it. And in the corner, to the left of any
+one writing at the small table, and on the right hand of the lawyer, was
+the open safe already mentioned. There were two doors, one communicating
+with the clerk's room, the other opening directly on the stairs. The
+latter was locked on the inside.</p>
+
+<p>'Call Mr. Arundel,' said the chief.</p>
+
+<p>While Checkley was gone, he walked to the window and observed that any
+one sitting at the table could, by merely reaching out, take anything
+from the safe and put it back again unobserved, if he himself happened
+to be occupied or looking another way. His grave face became dark. He
+returned to his own chair, and sat thinking, while his face grew darker
+and his eyes harder, until Mr. Arundel appeared.</p>
+
+<p>Athelstan Arundel was at this time a recently admitted member of the
+respectable but too numerous family of solicitors. He was between two
+and three and twenty years of age, a tall and handsome young fellow, of
+a good manly type. He was an ex-articled clerk of the House, and he had
+just been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> appointed a Managing Clerk until something could be found for
+him. The Arundels were a City family of some importance: perhaps
+something in a City Firm might presently be achieved by the united
+influence of family and money. Meantime, here he was, at work, earning a
+salary and gaining experience. Checkley&mdash;for his part, who was as
+jealous of his master as only an old servant, or a young mistress, has
+the right to be&mdash;had imagined symptoms or indications of a growing
+preference or favour toward this young gentleman on the part of Mr.
+Dering. Certainly, he had Mr. Arundel in his own office a good deal, and
+gave him work of a most confidential character. Besides, Mr. Dering was
+Executor and Trustee for young Arundel's mother, and he had been an old
+friend and schoolfellow of his father, and had known the young man and
+his two sisters from infancy.</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Arundel,' the lawyer began. At his own house, he addressed his ward
+by his Christian name: in the office, as managing clerk, he prefixed the
+courtesy title. 'An extremely disagreeable thing has happened here.
+Nothing short of a forgery.&mdash;Don't interrupt me, if you please'&mdash;for the
+young man looked as if he was about to practise his interjections.&mdash;'It
+is a most surprising thing, I admit. You needn't say so, however. That
+wastes time. A Forgery. On the fifth of this month, three weeks ago, a
+cheque, apparently in my handwriting, and with my signature, so
+skilfully executed as to deceive even Checkley and the manager of the
+bank, was presented at my bank and duly cashed. The amount
+is&mdash;large&mdash;720<i>l</i>.&mdash;and the sum was paid across the counter in ten-pound
+notes, which are now stopped&mdash;if there are any left.' He kept his eyes
+fixed on the young man, whose face betrayed no other emotion than that
+of natural surprise. 'We shall doubtless trace these notes, and through
+them, of course, the forger. We have already ascertained who presented
+the cheque. You follow?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. There has been a forgery. The forged cheque has been cashed.
+The notes are stopped. Have you any clue to the forgery&mdash;any
+suspicions?'</p>
+
+<p>'As yet, none. We are only beginning to collect the facts.' The lawyer
+spoke in the coldest and most austere manner. 'I am laying them, one by
+one, before you.'</p>
+
+<p>Young Arundel bowed.</p>
+
+<p>'Observe then, that the forged cheque belongs to a cheque<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> book which
+has been lying, forgotten by me, in this safe for two years. Here is the
+book. Turn to the last counterfoil. Here is the cheque, the forged
+cheque, which corresponds. You see?'</p>
+
+<p>'Perfectly. The book has been in the safe for two years. It has been
+taken out by someone&mdash;presumably the forger&mdash;the cheque has been forged;
+the counterfoil filled up; and the book replaced. Why was all this
+trouble taken? If the man had got the cheque, why did he fill up the
+counterfoil? Why did he return the book? I beg your pardon.'</p>
+
+<p>'Your questions are pertinent. I come to the next point. The safe is
+never opened but by myself. It is open so long as I am in the room, and
+at no other time.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly, I know that.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well. The man who took out this cheque book, forged the cheque,
+and replaced the book, must have done it in my very presence.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Could not someone&mdash;somehow&mdash;have got a key?'</p>
+
+<p>'I thought of that. It is possible. But the drawers are full of
+valuables, jewellery&mdash;curios&mdash;all kinds of things which could easily be
+turned into money. And they were not touched. Now, had the safe been
+opened by a key, these things would certainly have vanished.'</p>
+
+<p>'So it would seem.'</p>
+
+<p>'These are the main facts, Mr. Arundel. Oh! one more. We have found the
+messenger who cashed the cheque. Perhaps there are one or two other
+points of more or less importance. There is only one more point I wish
+to bring before you. Of course&mdash;I make no charge&mdash;I insinuate none. But
+this must be remembered&mdash;there are only two persons who have had access
+to this safe in such a manner as to make it possible for them to take
+anything out of it&mdash; Checkley&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no&mdash;no,' cried the old man.</p>
+
+<p>'And you yourself. At the time of the robbery, you were working at that
+table with the safe open and within reach of your left hand. This is a
+fact, mind&mdash;one of the facts of the case&mdash;not a charge.'</p>
+
+<p>'What?' cried the young man, his cheek aflame&mdash;'you mean&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I mean nothing&mdash;nothing at all. I want you&mdash;and Checkley&mdash;who alone
+have used this room, not counting callers who sat in that chair&mdash;to know
+the facts.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'The facts&mdash;yes&mdash;of course&mdash;the facts. Well'&mdash;he spoke rapidly and a
+little incoherently&mdash;'it is true that I worked here&mdash;but&mdash;oh! it is
+absurd. I know nothing of any cheque book lying in your safe. I was
+working at this table'&mdash;he went to the table&mdash;'sitting in this chair.
+How could I get up and search about in a safe for an unknown and
+unsuspected cheque book before your very eyes?'</p>
+
+<p>'I do not know. It seems impossible. I only desire you to consider, with
+me, the facts.'</p>
+
+<p>Had Mr. Dering spoken just a little less coldly, with just a little less
+dryness in his manner, what followed would perhaps have been different.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;the facts,' repeated the young man. 'Well&mdash;let us get at the
+facts. The chief fact is that whoever took that cheque and filled it up
+must have known the existence of that cheque book more than two years
+old.'</p>
+
+<p>'It would seem so.'</p>
+
+<p>'Who could know about that old cheque book? Only one who had been about
+your office more than two years, or one who had had opportunities of
+examining the safe. Now, you sat there&mdash;I sat here'&mdash;he seated himself,
+only turning the chair round. 'How is it possible for a man sitting here
+to take anything out of that safe without your seeing him? How is it
+possible for him, without your knowledge, to examine slowly and
+carefully the contents of the safe?'</p>
+
+<p>'Everything is possible,' said Mr. Dering, still coldly. 'Let us not
+argue on possibilities. We have certain facts before us. By the help of
+these, I shall hope to find out others.'</p>
+
+<p>'At five o'clock every day I put the work in the drawer of this table
+and I go away.' He opened the drawer, as if to illustrate this
+unimportant fact. He saw in it two or three pieces of paper with writing
+on them. He took them out. 'Good Heavens!' he cried. 'They are
+imitations of your handwriting.'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley crossed the room swiftly, snatched them from him, and laid them
+before his master. 'Imitations of your handwriting,' he said,
+'imitations&mdash;exercises in forgery&mdash;practice makes perfect. Found in the
+drawer. Now!'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering looked at the papers and laid them beside the forged cheque.
+'An additional fact,' he said. 'These are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> certainly imitations. The
+probable conclusion is that they were made by the same hand that forged
+this cheque.'</p>
+
+<p>'Found in the drawer,' said Checkley, 'used by Mr. Arundel. Never by me.
+Ah! The only two, are we? These imitations will prove that I'm not in
+it.'</p>
+
+<p>'The fact that these imitations are found in the drawer,' said Mr.
+Dering, 'is a fact which may or may not be important.'</p>
+
+<p>'What?' cried the young man, flaring up. 'You think that I made those
+imitations?'</p>
+
+<p>'I do not permit myself&mdash;yet&mdash;to make any conclusions at all.
+Everything, however, is possible.'</p>
+
+<p>Then this foolish young man lost his temper and his head.</p>
+
+<p>'You have known me all my life,' he cried. 'You have known me and all my
+people. Yet at the first moment you are ready to believe that I have
+committed a most abominable forgery! You&mdash;my father's oldest friend&mdash;my
+mother's Trustee! My own Guardian! You!'</p>
+
+<p>'Pardon me. There are certain facts in this case. I have laid them
+before you. I have shown&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'To suspect me,' Arundel repeated, 'and all the time another man&mdash;that
+man&mdash;your clerk&mdash;who knows everything ever done in this office, is in
+and about the place all day long.'</p>
+
+<p>'The imitations,' said Checkley quietly, 'were found in his own
+drawer&mdash;by himself.'</p>
+
+<p>'Who put them there? Who made them? You&mdash;villain and scoundrel!'</p>
+
+<p>'Stop, stop,' said Mr. Dering coldly. 'We go too fast. Let us first
+prove our facts. We will then proceed to conclusions.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, sir, you clearly believe that I forged your name and robbed you
+of all this money. I have not got ten pounds in the world; but that is
+not, I suppose, a fact which bears on the case. You think I have seven
+hundred pounds somewhere. Very good. Think so, if you please. Meanwhile,
+I am not going to stay in the service of a man who is capable of
+thinking such a thing. I leave your service&mdash;at once. Get some one else
+to serve you&mdash;somebody who likes being charged with forgery and theft.'
+He flung himself out of the room and banged the door behind him.</p>
+
+<p>'He has run away,' said Checkley. 'Actually, run away at the very
+outset! What do you think now?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'I do not think. We shall, I daresay, find out the truth in due course.
+Meantime, these documents will remain in my keeping.'</p>
+
+<p>'Only, I hope, sir,' the clerk began, 'that after what you've just seen
+and heard, after such insolence and running away and all&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't be an ass, Checkley. So far as appearances go, no one could get
+at the safe except you and Arundel. So far as the ascertained facts go,
+there is nothing to connect either of you with the thing. He is a
+foolish young man; and if he is innocent, which we must, I suppose,
+believe'&mdash;but his look did not convey the idea of robust faith&mdash;'he will
+come back when he has cooled down.'</p>
+
+<p>'The imitations of your handwriting in his drawer&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'The man who forged the cheque,' said Mr. Dering, 'whoever he was, could
+easily have written those imitations. I shall see that hot-headed boy's
+mother, and bring him to reason.&mdash;Now, Checkley, we will resume work.
+And not a word of this business, if you please, outside. You have
+yourself to think of as well, remember. You, as well as that boy, have
+access to the safe. Enough&mdash;enough.'</p>
+
+<p>Athelstan Arundel walked home all the way, foaming and raging. No
+omnibus, cab, or conveyance ever built could contain a young man in such
+a rage. His mother lived at Pembridge Square, which is four good
+measured miles from Lincoln's Inn. He walked the whole way, walking
+through crowds, and under the noses of dray-horses, carriage-horses, and
+cart-horses, without taking the least notice of them. When he reached
+home, he dashed into the drawing-room, where he found his two
+sisters&mdash;Hilda and Elsie&mdash;one of them a girl of eighteen, the other of
+thirteen. With flaming cheeks and fiery eyes he delivered himself of his
+story; he hurled it at their heads; he called upon them to share his
+indignation, and to join with him in scorn and contempt of the
+man&mdash;their supposed best friend, Trustee, Guardian, Adviser&mdash;their
+father's best friend&mdash;who had done this thing&mdash;who had accused him, on
+the bare evidence of two or three circumstantial facts, of such a crime!</p>
+
+<p>There is something magnetic in all great emotions: one proof of their
+reality is that they are magnetic. It is only an actor who can endow an
+assumed emotion with magnetism. Elsie, the younger girl, fell into a
+corresponding sympathy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> of wrath: she was equal to the occasion: passion
+for passion, she joined him and fed the flame. But&mdash;for all persons are
+not magnetic&mdash;the elder sister remained cold. From time to time she
+wanted to know exactly what Mr. Dering had said: this her brother was
+too angry to remember: she was pained and puzzled: she neither soothed
+him nor sympathised with him.</p>
+
+<p>Then the mother returned, and the whole story was told again, Elsie
+assisting. Now, Mrs. Arundel was a woman of great sense: a practical
+woman: a woman of keen judgment. She prided herself upon the possession
+of these qualities, which are not supposed to be especially feminine.
+She heard the story with disturbed face and knitted brow.</p>
+
+<p>'Surely,' she said, 'what you tell me, Athelstan, is beyond belief. Mr.
+Dering, of all men, to accuse you&mdash;you&mdash;of such a thing! It is
+impossible.'</p>
+
+<p>'I wish it was impossible. He accuses me of forging that cheque for
+720<i>l</i>. He says that while I was working in his office for him, a
+fortnight ago, I took a certain cheque book out of the safe, forged his
+writing on a cheque, and returned the cheque book. This is what he says.
+Do you call that accusing, or don't you?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. If he says that. But how can he&mdash;Mr. Dering&mdash;the most exact
+and careful of men? I will drive to Lincoln's Inn at once and find out.
+My dear boy, pray calm yourself. There is&mdash;there must be&mdash;some terrible
+mistake.'</p>
+
+<p>She went immediately; and she had a long interview with the solicitor.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering was evidently much disturbed by what had happened. He did not
+receive her as he usually received his clients, sitting in his
+arm-chair. He pushed back the chair and stood up, leaning a hand on the
+back of it, a tall, thin, erect figure, gray-haired, austere of face.
+There was little to reassure the mother in that face. The very trouble
+of it made her heart sink.</p>
+
+<p>'I certainly have not accused Athelstan,' he said. 'It is, however,
+quite true that there has been a robbery here, and that of a large sum
+of money&mdash;no less than 720<i>l</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>'But what has that to do with my boy?'</p>
+
+<p>'We have made a few preliminary inquiries. I will do for you, Mrs.
+Arundel, what I did for your son, and you shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> yourself understand
+what connection those inquiries have with him.'</p>
+
+<p>He proceeded coldly and without comment to set forth the case so far as
+he had got at the facts. As he went on, the mother's heart became as
+heavy as lead. Before he finished, she was certain. There is, you see, a
+way of presenting a case without comment which is more efficacious than
+any amount of talk; and Mrs. Arundel plainly perceived&mdash;which was indeed
+the case&mdash;that the lawyer had by this time little doubt in his own mind
+that her son had done this thing.</p>
+
+<p>'I thought it right,' he continued, 'to lay before him these facts at
+the outset. If he is innocent, I thought, he will be the better able to
+prove his innocence, and perhaps to find the guilty person. If he is
+guilty, he may be led to confession or restitution. The facts about the
+cheque book and the safe are very clear. I am certain that the safe has
+not been opened by any other key. The only persons who have had access
+to it are Checkley and your son Athelstan. As for Checkley&mdash;he couldn't
+do it, he could not possibly do it. The thing is quite beyond him.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Arundel groaned. 'This is terrible!' she said.</p>
+
+<p>'Meantime, the notes are numbered: they may be traced: they are stopped:
+we shall certainly find the criminal by means of those notes.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Dering'&mdash;Mrs. Arundel rose and laid her hand on his&mdash;'you are our
+very old friend. Tell me&mdash;if this wretched boy goes away&mdash;if he gives
+back the money that remains&mdash;if I find the rest&mdash;will there be&mdash;any
+further&mdash;investigation?'</p>
+
+<p>'To compound a felony is a crime. It is, however, one of those crimes
+which men sometimes commit without repentance or shame. My dear lady, if
+he will confess and restore&mdash;we shall see.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Arundel drove home again. She came away fully persuaded in her own
+mind that her son&mdash;her only son&mdash;and none other, must be that guilty
+person. She knew Mr. Dering's room well: she had sat there hundreds of
+times: she knew the safe: she knew old Checkley. She perceived the
+enormous improbability of this ancient clerk's doing such a thing. She
+knew, again, what temptations assail a young man in London: she saw what
+her Trustee thought of it: and she jumped to the conclusion that her
+son&mdash;and none other&mdash;was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> the guilty person. She even saw how he must
+have done it: she saw the quick look while Mr. Dering's back was turned:
+the snatching of the cheque book: the quick replacing it. Her very
+keenness of judgment helped her to the conviction. Women less clever
+would have been slower to believe. Shameful, miserable termination of
+all her hopes for her boy's career! But that she could think of
+afterwards. For the moment the only thing was to get the boy away&mdash;to
+induce him to confess&mdash;and to get him away.</p>
+
+<p>He was calmer when she got home, but he was still talking about
+the thing: he would wait till the right man was discovered: then
+he would have old Dering on his knees. The thing would be set right
+in a few days. He had no fear of any delay. He was quite certain
+that it was Checkley&mdash;that old villain. Oh! He couldn't do it by
+himself, of course&mdash;nobody could believe that of him. He had
+accomplices&mdash;confederates&mdash;behind him. Checkley's part of the job was to
+steal the cheque book and give it to his confederates and share the
+swag.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, mother?' he asked.</p>
+
+<p>His mother sat down. She looked pale and wretched.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother,' cried Hilda, the elder sister. 'Quick! What has happened? What
+does Mr. Dering say?'</p>
+
+<p>'He accuses nobody,' she replied in a hard dry voice. 'But&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'But what?' asked Hilda.</p>
+
+<p>'He told me everything&mdash;everything&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;Oh!' She burst into sobs
+and crying, though she despised women who cry. 'It is terrible&mdash; It is
+terrible&mdash; It is incredible. Yet, what can I think? What can any one
+think? Leave us, Hilda. Leave us, Elsie.' The two girls went out
+unwillingly. 'Oh! my son&mdash;how can I believe it? And yet&mdash;on the one
+hand, a boy of two-and-twenty exposed to all the temptations of town: on
+the other, an old clerk of fifty years' service and integrity. And when
+the facts are laid before you both&mdash;calmly and coldly&mdash;you fly into a
+rage and run away, while Checkley calmly remains to await the inquiry.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Arundel had been accustomed all her life to consider Mr. Dering as
+the wisest of men. She felt instinctively that he regarded her son with
+suspicion: she heard all the facts: she jumped to the conclusion that he
+was a prodigal and a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> profligate: that he had fallen into evil ways, and
+spent money in riotous living: she concluded that he had committed these
+crimes in order to get more money for more skittles and oranges.</p>
+
+<p>'Athelstan '&mdash;she laid her hand upon his arm, but did not dare to lift
+her eyes and behold that guilty face&mdash;'Athelstan'&mdash;confess&mdash;make
+reparation so far as you can&mdash;confess&mdash;oh! my son&mdash;my son! You will be
+caught and tried and found guilty, and&mdash;oh! I cannot say it&mdash;through the
+notes which you have changed. They are all known and stopped.'</p>
+
+<p>The boy's wrath was now changed to madness.</p>
+
+<p>'You!' he cried. 'You! My own mother! You believe it, no! Oh! we are all
+going mad together. What? Then I am turned out of this house, as I am
+turned out of my place. I go, then&mdash;I go; and'&mdash;here he swore a mighty
+oath, as strong as anybody out of Spain can make them&mdash;'I will
+never&mdash;never&mdash;never come home again till you come yourself to beg
+forgiveness&mdash;you&mdash;my own mother!'</p>
+
+<p>Outside, in the hall, his sisters stood, waiting and trembling.</p>
+
+<p>'Athelstan,' cried the elder, 'what, in the name of Heaven, have you
+done?'</p>
+
+<p>'Go, ask my mother. She will tell you. She knows, it seems, better than
+I know myself. I am driven away by my own mother. She says that I am
+guilty of&mdash;of&mdash;of forgery.'</p>
+
+<p>'If she says so, Athelstan,' his sister replied coldly, 'she must have
+her reasons. She would not drive you out of the house for nothing. Don't
+glare like that. Prove your innocence.'</p>
+
+<p>'What? You, too? Oh! I am driven away by my sisters as well&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'No, Athelstan&mdash;no,' cried Elsie, catching his hand. 'Not both your
+sisters.'</p>
+
+<p>'My poor child;' he stooped and kissed her. 'They will make you believe
+what they believe. Good Heavens! They make haste to believe it; they are
+glad to believe it.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no. Don't go, Athelstan.' Elsie threw her arms about him. 'Stay,
+and show that they are wrong. Oh! you are innocent. I will
+never&mdash;never&mdash;never believe it.'</p>
+
+<p>He kissed her again, and tore himself away. The street door slammed
+behind him: they heard his footsteps as he strode away. He had gone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then Elsie fell into loud weeping and wailing. But Hilda went to comfort
+her mother.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother,' she said, 'did he really, really and truly do it?'</p>
+
+<p>'What else can I believe? Either he did it or that old clerk. Where is
+he?'</p>
+
+<p>'He is gone. He says he will come back when his innocence is proved.
+Mother, if he is innocent, why does he run away? It's foolish to say
+that it is because we believe it. I've said nothing except that you
+couldn't believe it without reasons. Innocent young men don't run away
+when they are charged with robbery. They stay and fight it out.
+Athelstan should have stayed.'</p>
+
+<p>Later on, when they were both a little recovered, Hilda tried to
+consider the subject more calmly. She had not her mother's cleverness,
+but she was not without parts. The following remarks&mdash;made by a girl of
+eighteen&mdash;prove so much.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother,' she said, 'perhaps it is better, so long as this suspicion
+rests upon him, that he should be away. We shall certainly know where
+he is: he will want money, and will write for it. If it should prove
+that somebody else did the thing, we can easily bring him back as a
+martyr&mdash;for my own part I should be so glad that I would willingly
+beg his pardon on my knees&mdash;and of course we could easily get him
+replaced in the office. If it is proved that he did do it&mdash;and that,
+you think, they will be certain to find out&mdash;Mr. Dering, for your sake,
+will be ready to hush it up&mdash;perhaps we may get the notes back&mdash;he
+can't have used them all; in any case it will be a great comfort to
+feel that he is out of the way: a brother convicted&mdash;tried in open
+court&mdash;sentenced&mdash;oh!' She shuddered. 'We should never get over it:
+never, never! It would be a most dreadful thing for Elsie and me. As for
+his going away, if people ask why he is gone and where, we must invent
+something&mdash;we can easily make up a story&mdash;hint that he has been
+wild&mdash;there is no disgrace, happily, about a young man being wild&mdash;that
+is the only thing that reconciles one to the horrid selfishness of wild
+young men&mdash;and if, by going away in a pretended rage, Athelstan has
+really enabled us to escape a horrid scandal&mdash;why, mother, in that
+case&mdash;we may confess that the blow has been by Providence most
+mercifully softened for us&mdash;most mercifully. We ought to consider that,
+mother.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, dear, yes. But he is gone. Athelstan is gone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> And his future
+seems ruined. There is no hope for him. I can see no hope whatever. My
+dear, he was so promising. I thought that all the family influence would
+be his&mdash;we haven't got a single City solicitor in the whole family. I
+thought that he was so clever and so ambitious and so eager to get on
+and make money and be a credit to the family. Solicitors do
+sometimes&mdash;especially City solicitors&mdash;become so very, very rich; and
+now it is all gone and done&mdash;and nothing left to hope but the miserable
+wish that there should be no scandal.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is indeed dreadful. But still&mdash;consider&mdash;no scandal. Mother, I think
+we should find out, if we can, something about his private life&mdash;how he
+has been living. He has been out a good deal of evenings lately. If
+there is any&mdash;any person&mdash;on whom he has been tempted to spend money&mdash;if
+he has been gambling&mdash;or betting, or any of the things that I read
+of'&mdash;this young lady, thanks to the beneficent assistance of certain
+works of fiction, was tolerably acquainted with the ways of young men
+and their temptations&mdash;'it would be a satisfaction to know it at least.'</p>
+
+<p>The ladies of a family where there is a 'wild' young man do not
+generally find it easy to get at the facts of his wildness: these remain
+locked up in the bosoms of his companions. No details could be learned
+about any wildness&mdash;quite the contrary. He seemed, so far as could be
+learned, to have led a very quiet and regular life. 'But then,' said the
+philosopher of eighteen, quoting from a novel, 'men shelter each other.
+They are all bad together.'</p>
+
+<p>But&mdash;no scandal.</p>
+
+<p>Everybody knows that kind of brother or sister by whom all family events
+are considered with a view to the scandal likely to be caused and the
+personal injury resulting to himself; or the envy that will follow and
+the personal advantage accruing from that event. That her brother was
+perhaps a shameful criminal might be considered by Hilda Arundel later
+on: at first, she was only capable of perceiving that this horrid fact,
+unless it could be hidden away and kept secret, might very materially
+injure herself.</p>
+
+<p>Almost naturally, she folded her hands sweetly and laid her comely head
+a little on one side&mdash;it is an attitude of resignation which may be
+observed in certain pictures of saints and holy women. Hilda knew many
+little attitudes. Also, quite naturally, she glanced at a mirror on the
+wall and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> observed that her pose was one of sorrow borne with Christian
+resignation.</p>
+
+<p>We must blame neither Hilda nor her mother. The case as put by Mr.
+Dering in the form of plain fact without any comment, did seem very
+black indeed against Athelstan. In every family the first feeling in
+such a case&mdash;it is the instinct of self-preservation&mdash;is to hush up the
+thing if possible&mdash;to avoid a scandal.</p>
+
+<p>Such a scandal as the prosecution of a brother for forgery&mdash;with a
+verdict of guilty&mdash;is a most truly horrible, deplorable, fatal thing. It
+takes the respectability out of a family perhaps at a critical moment,
+when the family is just assuming the robes of respectability: it ruins
+the chances of the girls: it blights the prospects of the boys: it
+drives away friends: it is a black spot which all the soaps ever
+advertised could never wash off. Therefore, while the mother hoped,
+first of all, that the boy would escape the clutch of the law, Hilda
+was, first of all, grateful that there would be no scandal. Mr. Dering
+would not talk about it. The thing would not interfere with her own
+prospects. It was sad: it was miserable; but yet&mdash;no scandal. With what
+a deep, deep sigh of satisfaction did the young lady repeat that there
+would probably be no scandal!</p>
+
+<p>As for Elsie, that child went about for many days with tearful eyes, red
+cheeks, and a swollen nose. She was rebellious and sharp with her
+mother. And to her sister she refused to speak. The days went on. They
+became weeks, months, years. Otherwise they would not have been days.
+Nothing at all was heard of Athelstan. He sent no letters to any one: he
+did not even write for money: they knew not where he was or what he was
+doing. He disappeared. It was understood that there had been wildness.</p>
+
+<p>Now&mdash;which was very remarkable&mdash;though the forger had had a clear run of
+three weeks, it could not be discovered that any of the notes had been
+presented. Perhaps they were sent abroad: yet foreign and colonial banks
+would know the numbers of stopped notes. And towards the discovery of
+the forger no further step had been taken. The commissionaire who took
+the cheque had been, as you have seen, easily found: he said he should
+know the old gentleman who gave him the forged draft to cash. He said,
+being again interrogated, that Checkley was not in the least like that
+old gentleman. What<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> could be thought, then? Athelstan must have 'made
+up' as an old man: he was fond of private theatricals: he could make up
+very well: of course he had made up. And then, this point being settled,
+they left off talking about the business.</p>
+
+<p>Other things happened&mdash;important things&mdash;which made the memory of the
+prodigal son to wax dim. First of all came Hilda's case. She was a
+graceful young person, with features of great regularity: her expression
+was cold, her eyes were hard, and her lips were a little thin, but these
+things at nineteen are hardly perceived. She was that sort of a girl who
+seems created for the express purpose, first of wearing and beautifying
+costly raiment, and next of sitting in a splendid vehicle. The finer the
+dress, the more beautiful she looked. The grander the carriage, the more
+queenly she seemed. In rags her coldness would be arctic, her hardness
+would be granitic: in silk and velvet she became a goddess. It was
+therefore most fitting that she should marry a rich man. Now, to be rich
+in these days, one must be old. It is the price that one has to pay for
+wealth. Sometimes one pays the price and gets old, and yet does not get
+what one has paid for. That seems hardly fair. There was a certain rich
+man, Mr. Dering's younger brother, Sir Samuel Dering, Knight, one of the
+most substantial City men, a man who had a house in Kensington Palace
+Gardens, a yacht, a country place in Sussex, and piles of papers in a
+safe, meaning investments. He was a widower without encumbrance: he was
+fifty-seven years of age, not yet decayed: he wanted a wife to be the
+mistress of his house, and to look well at his dinner-parties. Of
+course, when one does want a wife, at any age, one wants her young.
+Hilda Arundel, his brother's ward, looked as if she would discharge the
+duties required of the position admirably. He suggested the arrangement
+to his brother, who spoke about it.</p>
+
+<p>There was a good deal of taking about it. Mrs. Arundel showed that she
+knew the value of her daughter; but there was no doubt about the
+conclusion of the matter. There was a grand wedding, at which all the
+richer Arundels were present, and none of the poor relations. Mr.
+Dering, the young lady's guardian, gave her away; Hilda became Lady
+Dering, and has been perfectly happy ever since. Elsie remained with her
+mother. Her brother was never spoken of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> between them. But she
+remembered him, and she was firm in her conviction that his innocence
+would be some day established.</p>
+
+<p>After five years, nothing at all having been heard of the notes, Mr.
+Dering made application to the Bank of England, and received from them
+the sum of 720<i>l</i>. in new crisp notes in the place of those of which he
+had been robbed, so that the actual loss at 4 per cent. compound
+interest amounted to no more than 155<i>l</i>. 19<i>s</i>. 9&frac34;<i>d</i>., which is
+more than one likes to lose, yet is not actually embarrassing to a man
+whose income is about ten thousand a year. He ceased to think about the
+business altogether, except as a disagreeable episode of his office.</p>
+
+<p>Then Athelstan Arundel became completely forgotten. His old friends, the
+young men with whom he had played and sported, only remembered him from
+time to time as a fellow who had come to some unknown grief, and had
+gone away. There is always some young fellow in every set of young
+fellows who gets into some scrape, and so leaves the circle, and is no
+more seen or heard of. We go on just the same without him: very seldom
+is such a man remembered long: it is the way of the world: we cannot
+stop to lament over the fallen: we must push on: others fall: close up
+the ranks: push on: Time drives: the memory of the fallen swiftly waxes
+dim.</p>
+
+<p>Fours years or so after the mysterious business of Edmund Gray, Mr.
+Dering received a letter with an American stamp marked 'Private and
+Confidential.' He laid this aside until he had got through the business
+letters; then he opened it. He turned first to the signature. 'Ha!' he
+said, 'Athelstan Arundel. At last. Now we shall see. We shall see.'</p>
+
+<p>He expected a full confession of the crime. We should never expect, says
+the Sage, what we desire, because we never obtain what we expect. It
+would have made Mr. Dering more comfortable in his mind had the letter
+contained a confession. Of course, Athelstan had done it. Nobody else
+could have done it. Yet when he thought about the business at all, there
+always arose in his mind an uneasy feeling that perhaps the boy had been
+treated unwisely. It might have been more prudent to have kept the facts
+from him, although they pointed so strongly in his direction, until
+proof positive was obtained. It might, again, have been better had the
+facts<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> been put before him with a few words of confidence, even though
+that confidence did not exist. Time only strengthened Mr. Dering's
+suspicions against the young man. The thing <i>must</i> have been done by
+Checkley or by him. Now, Checkley was not able, if he had wished, to
+imitate any handwriting. No! It was done by Athelstan. Why he did it,
+what he got by it, seeing that those notes had never been presented, no
+one could explain. But he did it&mdash;he did it. That was certain.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering therefore began to read the letter with interest. Its
+commencement was without any opening words of respect or friendliness.
+And it was not by any means the letter of a wicked man turning away from
+his wickedness. Not a word of repentance from beginning to end.</p>
+
+<p>'Four years ago,' Mr. Dering read, 'you drove me from your place and
+changed my whole life, by a suspicion&mdash;amounting to a charge&mdash;of the
+gravest kind. You assumed, without explanation or examination, that
+because certain facts seemed to point in a certain direction, I had been
+guilty of an enormous crime, that I had robbed my father's oldest
+friend, my mother's Trustee, my own guardian, my employer, of a great
+sum of money. You never asked yourself if this suspicion was justified
+by any conduct of mine&mdash;you jumped at it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite wrong. Wilfully wrong,' said Mr. Dering. 'I laid the facts before
+him. Nothing but the facts. I brought no charge.'</p>
+
+<p>'I daresay that by this time the criminal has been long since detected.
+Had I remained, I would have brought the thing home to him. For of
+course it could be none other than your clerk. I have thought over the
+case thousands of times. The man who forged the cheque must have been
+one of two&mdash;either your clerk&mdash;the man Checkley&mdash;or myself. It did not
+take you long, I apprehend, to learn the truth. You would discover it
+through the presentation of the notes.'&mdash;'This is a very crafty letter,'
+said Mr. Dering; 'when he never presented any of the notes. Very
+crafty.' He resumed the letter&mdash;'Enough said about that. I daresay,
+however, that I shall some day or other&mdash;before you are dead, I
+hope&mdash;return in order to receive some expression of sorrow from you if
+you can feel shame.'&mdash;'Certainly not,' said Mr. Dering with
+decision.&mdash;'Meantime, there is a service which I must ask of you for
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> sake of my people. There is no one else whom I can ask. It is the
+reason of my writing this letter.</p>
+
+<p>'I came away with ten pounds&mdash;all I had in the world&mdash;in my pocket. Not
+seven hundred and twenty pounds, as you imagined or suspected. Ten
+pounds. With that slender capital I got across the Atlantic. I have now
+made twelve thousand pounds. I made it in a very short time by
+extraordinary good luck.' Mr. Dering laid down the letter and
+considered. Twelve thousand pounds might be made&mdash;perhaps&mdash;by great good
+luck&mdash;with a start of seven hundred and twenty, but hardly with ten
+pounds. A silver reef&mdash;or more likely a gambling table, or a second
+crime, or a series of crimes. It will be observed that his opinion of
+the young man was now very bad indeed: otherwise, he would have
+reflected that as none of those notes had been presented, none of them
+had been used. Even if an English ten-pound note is converted into
+American dollars, the note comes home before ten years. 'Extraordinary
+good luck.' He read the words again, and shook his head. 'Now, I want
+you to take charge of this money, to say nothing at all about it, to
+keep the matter a profound secret, to invest it or put it in some place
+of safety, where confidential clerks with a taste for forgery cannot get
+at it, and to give it, on her twenty-first birthday, to my sister Elsie.
+Do not tell her or anybody from whom the money comes. Do not tell
+anybody that you have heard from me. When I came away, she was the only
+one of all my friends and people who declared that she believed in me. I
+now strip myself of my whole possessions in order to show this mark of
+my love and gratitude towards her. In sending you this money I go back
+to the ten pounds with which I started.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering laid the letter down. The words, somehow, seemed to ring
+true. Could the boy&mdash;after all&mdash;&mdash;? He shook his head, and went on. 'You
+will give Elsie this money on her twenty-first birthday, to be settled
+on her for herself.'</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;">'<span class="smcap">Athelstan Arundel</span>.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>The letter was dated, but no address was given. The post-mark was Idaho,
+which, as we all know, belongs to a Western State.</p>
+
+<p>He looked into the envelope. There fell out a paper, which was a draft
+on a well-known London Firm, payable to his order for twelve thousand
+and fifty pounds.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'This is very unbusiness-like,' said Mr. Dering. 'He puts all this money
+into my hands, and vanishes. These are the ways he learns in America, I
+suppose. Puts the money blindly in my hands without giving me the means
+of communicating with him. Then he vanishes. How could he prove that it
+was a Trust? Well, if I could only think&mdash;but I cannot&mdash;the
+circumstantial evidence is too strong&mdash;that the boy was innocent&mdash;I
+should be very sorry for him. As for Elsie&mdash;she must be eighteen
+now&mdash;about eighteen&mdash;she will get this windfall in three years or so. It
+will be a wonderful lift for her. Perhaps it may make all the difference
+in her future! If I could only think that the boy was innocent&mdash;a clever
+lad, too&mdash;which makes his guilt more probable. But I can't&mdash;no&mdash;I can't.
+Either Checkley or that boy&mdash;and Checkley couldn't do it. He couldn't if
+he were to try. What did the boy do it for? And what did he do with the
+notes?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3>UP THE RIVER</h3>
+
+<p>'Can you not be content, George?' asked the girl sitting in the stern.
+'I think that I want nothing more than this. If we could only go on
+always, and always, and always, just like this.' She had taken off her
+right-hand glove, and she was dipping her fingers into the cool waters
+of the river as the boat slowly drifted down stream. 'Always like this,'
+she repeated softly. 'With you close to me&mdash;so that I could touch you if
+I wanted to&mdash;so that I could feel safe, you know&mdash;the sun behind us,
+warm and splendid, such a sweet and fragrant air about us, trees and
+gardens and fields and lanes on either side&mdash;and both of us always
+young, George, and&mdash;and nice to look at, and all the world before us.'</p>
+
+<p>She, for one, was not only young and nice to look upon, but fair&mdash;very
+fair to look upon. Even young persons of her own sex, critics and
+specialists in the Art and Science of Beauty&mdash;rivals as well&mdash;had to
+confess that Elsie was rather pretty. I believe that few such critics
+ever go farther. She was, to begin with, of sufficient stature, in a
+time when dumpy women are not considered, and when height is a first
+necessity of comeliness: she paid, next, such obedience to the laws of
+figure as becomes the age of twenty, and is, with stature, rigorously
+demanded at this end of the century. Her chief points, perhaps, lay in
+her eyes, which were of a darker shade of blue than is common. They were
+soft, yet not languid; they were full of light; they were large, and yet
+they could be quick. Her face was subject to sudden changes that made it
+like a spring-time sky of shower, rainbow, sunshine, and surprise. Her
+hair was of a very common brown, neither dark nor light. She was
+attired, this evening, in a simple gray frock of nun's cloth with a
+bunch of white roses on her left shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>When one says that her companion was a young man, nearly all is said,
+because the young men of the present day are surprisingly alike.
+Thousands of young men can be found like George Austin: they are all
+excellent fellows, of much higher principles, on some subjects, than
+their fathers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> before them; not remarkably intellectual, to judge by
+their school record: yet with intelligence and application enough to get
+through their examinations moderately: for the most part they do pass
+them with moderate success: they are not ambitious of obtaining any of
+the great prizes&mdash;which, indeed, they know to be out of their reach&mdash;but
+they always set before themselves and keep always well in sight the
+ideal suburban villa and the wife: they always work steadily, if not
+feverishly, with the view of securing these two blessings; they always
+hope to secure an income that will enable them to maintain that
+wife&mdash;with a possible following of babies&mdash;in silk attire (for Sundays);
+in ease as to household allowance; and in such freedom of general
+expenditure as may enable her to stand up among her neighbours in church
+without a blush.</p>
+
+<p>The world is quite full of such men: they form the rank and file, the
+legionaries: their opinion on the subject of labour is purely
+Scriptural&mdash;namely, that it is a curse: they do not particularly love
+any kind of work: they would prefer, if they had the choice, to do
+nothing at all: when they get their summer holiday they do nothing all
+day long, with zeal: they give no more thought to their work than is
+sufficient for the bread-winning: whether they are professional men or
+trading men their view of professional work is solely that it brings in
+the money. If such a young man becomes a clerk, he never tries to learn
+any more after he has left school: he accepts the position: a clerk and
+a servant he is, a clerk and a servant he will remain. If he is engaged
+in trade he gives just so much attention to his business as will keep
+his connection together: that and no more: others may soar: others may
+become Universal Providers: for his part he is contented with his shop
+and his Sunday feast. If he becomes a professional man he learns no more
+of his science than is wanted every day. The lawyer passes his exam, and
+puts away his law-books; he knows enough for professional purposes: the
+doctor reads no more; he knows enough for the ordinary needs of the G.
+P.: the schoolmaster lays aside his books; scholarship and science
+interest him no longer; he has learned enough to teach his boys: the
+curate makes no farther research into the history and foundations of his
+church; he has learned enough. In a word, the average young man is
+without ambition; he is inclined to be lazy; he loves the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> present far
+more than the future&mdash;indeed, all his elders unite in letting him know
+that his own is quite the most enviable time of life; he likes to enjoy
+whatever he can afford, so that he very often eats up all his wages: he
+does not read too much; he does not think too much: he does not vex his
+soul too much with the problems of life&mdash;greater problems or lesser
+problems&mdash;he accepts the teaching of his newspaper, and agrees with the
+words and the wisdom of yesterday's leading article: he accepts
+religion, politics, morals, social systems, constitutions, things
+present, past, and future, as if&mdash;which is perfectly true&mdash;he had
+nothing to do with them, and could not help it whatever was to happen.
+He never wants to alter anything; he believes that all British
+institutions are built on the solid rock and fashioned out of the
+hardest granite: any exceptions to this rule, he thinks, have come
+straight down from Heaven.</p>
+
+<p>Observe, if you please, that this kind of young man confers the greatest
+possible benefits upon the country. He ought to be made a Baronet at
+least, if honours meant anything. His apparent sluggishness keeps us
+from the constant changes which trouble some nations: his apparent lack
+of ambition makes it easy for the restless spirits to rise: were the
+country full of aspiring young men we should be for ever having civil
+wars, revolutions, social upsydowns, new experiments, new religions, new
+governments, new divisions of property, every year. Again, it is this
+young man who by his steady attention to business, his readiness to work
+as much as is wanted, but no more; his disregard of theories and
+speculations, his tenacity; his honesty, his loyalty, his courage, and
+his stout heart, has built up the British name so that there has never
+been any name like unto it, nor ever will be again, for these solid and
+substantial virtues.</p>
+
+<p>Being, then, just a young man of the time, George Austin was naturally
+like most young men in dress, in appearance, in language, and in
+manners. And had it not been for the strange experience which he was to
+undergo, he would have remained to this day just like other young men.
+He was better looking than most, having a good figure, a well-shaped
+head, and regular features, with eyes rather fuller of possibilities
+than falls to the lot of most young men. In short, a good-looking
+fellow, showing a capability for something or other in his firm mouth,
+ample cheek, strong chin, and resolute<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> carriage. He would have made a
+fine soldier; but perhaps an unsuccessful general, for want of that
+quality which in poets is called genius. In the same way he would in a
+lower walk keep a business together, but would fail to achieve a great
+fortune for lack of the same quality. As for his age, he was
+seven-and-twenty.</p>
+
+<p>'Always like this,' the girl went on. 'Always floating down the stream
+under a summer sky. Always sweet looks and love and youth. It seems as
+if we could never be unhappy, never be worried, never want anything, on
+such an evening as this.' She turned and looked up the stream, on which
+lay the glory of the sinking sun&mdash;she sighed. 'It is good to come out on
+such an evening only to have a brief dream of what might be. When will
+the world give up their foolish quarrels, and join together to make the
+lives of all happy?'</p>
+
+<p>They had been talking, among other things, of socialism, all out of
+yesterday's leading article.</p>
+
+<p>'When,' George replied, 'there is enough of good things to go round:
+when we invent a way to make all men ready to do their share as well as
+to devour it: when we find out how to make everybody contented with his
+share.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie shook her head, which was filled with vague ideas&mdash;the ideas of a
+restless and a doubting time. Then she went back to her original
+proposition. 'Always like this, George&mdash;and never to get tired of it.
+Time to stand still&mdash;nothing to change: never to get tired of it: never
+to want anything else. That is Heaven, I suppose.'</p>
+
+<p>'We are on earth, Elsie,' said her lover. 'And on earth Everything
+changes. If we were to go on drifting down the stream, we should get
+into trouble over the weir. To capsize would be a pretty interruption to
+your Heaven, wouldn't it! And the sun will soon be setting and the river
+will get misty; and the banks will grow ugly. But the chief thing is
+that we shall both grow old. And there is such a lot that we have got to
+do before we grow old.'</p>
+
+<p>'Everything has to be done,' said Elsie. 'I suppose we have done nothing
+yet.'</p>
+
+<p>'We have got to get married for the first thing, before we grow old.'</p>
+
+<p>'Couldn't you love an old woman, George?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not so well, Elsie,' her lover replied, truthfully. 'At least, I think
+not.&mdash;And oh! Elsie, whenever I do think of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> the future, my heart goes
+down into my boots. For the prospect grows darker and darker.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie sighed. She knew, already, too well, what was in his mind. Plenty
+of girls, in these days, know the familiar tale.</p>
+
+<p>'Darker every day,' he repeated. 'They keep on crowding into the
+profession by multitudes, as if there was room for any number. They
+don't understand that what with the decay of the landed interest and of
+the country towns, and the cutting down of the costs, and the work that
+goes to accountants, there isn't half the business to do that there was.
+There don't seem any partnerships to be had for love or money, because
+the few people who have got a good thing have got no more than enough
+for themselves. It is no use for the young fellows to start by
+themselves; so they have got to take whatever they can get, and they are
+glad to get even a hundred a year to begin with&mdash;and I am
+seven-and-twenty, Elsie, and I'm drawing two hundred pounds a year.'</p>
+
+<p>'Patience, George! something will turn up. You will find a partnership
+somewhere.'</p>
+
+<p>'My child, you might as well tell Robinson Crusoe that a boiled leg of
+mutton with caper sauce was going to turn up on his desert island. We
+must not hope for the impossible. I ought to be grateful, I suppose,
+considering what other men are doing. I am planted in a good solid
+House. It won't run away, so long as the old man lives.'</p>
+
+<p>'And after that?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, Mr. Dering is seventy-five. But he will not die yet, not for a
+long time to come. He is made of granite: he is never ill: he never
+takes a holiday: he works harder than any of his people; and he keeps
+longer hours. To be sure, if he were to die without taking a
+partner&mdash;well&mdash;in that case, there would be an end of everything, I
+suppose.&mdash;Elsie, here's the position.' She knew it already, too
+well&mdash;but it pleased them both to parade the facts as if they were
+something quite novel. 'Let us face it'&mdash;they were always facing it. 'I
+am Managing Clerk to Dering &amp; Son&mdash;I get two hundred pounds a year&mdash;I
+have no prospect of anything better. I am bound all my life to be a
+servant. Elsie, it is not a brilliant prospect: I found out at school
+that it was best not to be too ambitious. But&mdash;a servant all my life&mdash;I
+confess that did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> not enter into my head. If I knew any other trade, I
+would cut the whole business. If there was any mortal thing in the whole
+world by which I could keep myself, I would try it. But there's nothing.
+I have but one trade. I can't write novels, or leading articles; I can't
+play on any instrument; I can't paint or act or sing or anything&mdash;I am
+only a solicitor&mdash;that's all. Only a solicitor who can't get on&mdash;a
+clerk, Elsie. No wonder her ladyship turns up her nose&mdash;a clerk.' He
+leaned his chin upon his hands and laughed the conventional laugh of the
+young man down on his luck.</p>
+
+<p>'Poor George!' she sighed. In such a case there are only two words of
+consolation. One may say 'Poor George!' or one may say 'Patience!' There
+is nothing else to say. Elsie first tried one method and then the other,
+as a doctor tries first one remedy and then another when Nature sulks
+and refuses to get well.</p>
+
+<p>'And,' he went on, piling up the misery, 'I am in love with the sweetest
+girl in the whole world&mdash;and she is in love with me!'</p>
+
+<p>'Poor George!' she repeated with a smile. 'That is indeed a dreadful
+misfortune.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am wasting your youth, Elsie, as well as my own.'</p>
+
+<p>'If it is wasted for your sake, George, it is well spent. Some day,
+perhaps&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no&mdash;not some day&mdash;immediately&mdash;at once.' The young man changed
+colour and his eyes sparkled. It was not the first time that he had
+advanced this revolutionary proposal. 'Let prudence go to the&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Not there, George&mdash;oh! not there. To the winds, perhaps, or to that
+famous city of Palestine. But not there. Why, we might never get her
+back again&mdash;poor Prudence! And we shall be sure to want her all our
+lives&mdash;very badly. We will, if you please, ask her to go for a short
+voyage for the benefit of her health. We will give her six months' leave
+of absence: but we shall want her services again after her holiday&mdash;if
+you think we can do without her for so long.'</p>
+
+<p>'For a whole twelvemonth, Elsie. Let us brave everything, get married at
+once, live in a garret, and have a splendid time&mdash;for a whole
+twelvemonth&mdash;on my two hundred pounds.'</p>
+
+<p>'And am I to give up my painting?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, dear, you know you have not yet had a commission from anybody.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'How can you say so, George? I have painted you&mdash;and my sister&mdash;and my
+mother&mdash;and your sisters. I am sure that no studio even of an R.A. could
+make a braver show of work. Well&mdash;I will give it up&mdash;until Prudence
+returns. Is it to be a garret? A real garret, with sloping walls, where
+you can only stand upright in the middle?'</p>
+
+<p>'We call it a garret. It will take the form, I suppose, of a tiny house
+in a cheap quarter. It will have six rooms, a garden in front and a
+garden behind. The rent will be thirty pounds. For a whole twelvemonth
+it will be a real slice of Eden, Elsie, and you shall be Eve.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie laughed. 'It will be great fun. We will make the Eden last longer
+than a twelvemonth. I daresay I shall like it. Of course I shall have to
+do everything for myself. To clean the doorstep will be equivalent to
+taking exercise in the fresh air: to sweep the floors will be a kind of
+afternoon dance or a game of lawn-tennis: to wash up the cups and
+saucers will be only a change of amusement.&mdash;There is one thing,
+George&mdash;one thing'&mdash;she became very serious&mdash;'I suppose you never&mdash;did
+you ever witness the scouring of a frying-pan? I don't think I <i>could</i>
+do that. And did you ever see beef-steaks before they are cooked? They
+suggest the animal in the most terrible way. I don't really think I
+could handle those bleeding lumps.'</p>
+
+<p>'You shan't touch a frying-pan, and we will have nothing roasted or
+fried. We will live on cold Australian beef eaten out of its native tin:
+the potatoes shall be boiled in their skins. And perhaps&mdash;I don't
+know&mdash;with two hundred pounds a year we could afford a servant&mdash;a very
+little one&mdash;just a girl warranted not to eat too much.'</p>
+
+<p>'What shall we do when our clothes are worn out?'</p>
+
+<p>'The little maid will make some more for you, I suppose. We certainly
+shall not be able to buy new things&mdash;not nice things, that is&mdash;and you
+must have nice things, mustn't you?'</p>
+
+<p>'I do like things to be nice,' she replied, smoothing her dainty skirts
+with her dainty hand. 'George, where shall we find this house&mdash;formerly
+Eve's own country villa before she&mdash;resigned her tenancy, you know?'</p>
+
+<p>'There are places in London where whole streets are filled with families
+living on a hundred and fifty pounds a year. Checkley&mdash;the chief's
+private clerk&mdash;lives in such a place: he told me so himself. He says
+there is nobody in his parish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> who has got a bigger income than himself:
+he's a little king among them because he gets four hundred pounds a
+year, besides what he has saved&mdash;which is enormous piles. Elsie, my
+dear, we must give up our present surroundings, and take up with
+gentility in its cheapest form.'</p>
+
+<p>'Can we not go on living among our own friends?'</p>
+
+<p>George shook his head wisely. 'Impossible. Friendship means equality of
+income. You can't live with people unless you do as they do. People of
+the same means naturally live together. Next door to Lady Dering is
+another rich Madam, not a clerk's wife. For my own part I shall sell my
+dress clothes for what they will fetch&mdash;you can exchange your evening
+things for morning things. That won't matter much. Who cares where we
+live, or how we live, so that we live together? What do you say, Elsie
+dear?'</p>
+
+<p>'The garret I don't mind&mdash;nor the door-steps&mdash;and since you see your way
+out of the difficulty of the frying-pan&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'You will be of age next week, when you can please yourself.'</p>
+
+<p>'Hilda gives me no peace nor rest. She says that there can be no
+happiness without money. She has persuaded my mother that I am going to
+certain starvation. She promises the most splendid establishment if I
+will only be guided by her.'</p>
+
+<p>'And marry a man fifty years older than yourself with one foot already
+well in&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'She says she has always been perfectly happy.&mdash;Well, George, you know
+all that. Next Wednesday, which is my birthday, I am to have a grand
+talk with my guardian. My mother hopes that he will bring me to my
+senses. Hilda says that she trusts entirely to Mr. Dering's good sense.
+I shall arm myself with all my obstinacy. Perhaps, George&mdash;who knows?&mdash;I
+may persuade him to advance your salary.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, Elsie. Not even you would persuade Mr. Dering to give a managing
+clerk more than two hundred pounds a year. But arm yourself with all you
+have got&mdash;don't forget any piece of that armour, child. The
+breastplate&mdash;there was a poor damsel once who forgot that and was caught
+by an appeal to her heart&mdash;nor the helmet&mdash;another poor damsel was once
+caught by an appeal to her reason after forgetting the helmet. The
+shield, of course, you will not forget&mdash;and for weapons, my dear, take
+your sweet eyes and your lovely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> face and your winning voice&mdash;and I
+swear that you will subdue even Mr. Dering himself&mdash;that hardened old
+parchment.'</p>
+
+<p>This was the kind of talk which these lovers held together whenever they
+met. George was poor&mdash;the son of a clergyman, whose power of advancing
+him ceased when he had paid the fees for admission. He was only a clerk,
+and he saw no chance of being anything else but a clerk. Elsie could
+bring nothing to the family nest, unless her mother made her an
+allowance. Of this there could be no hope. The engagement was considered
+deplorable: marriage, under the circumstances, simple madness. And Hilda
+had done so well for herself, and could do so much for a sister so
+pretty, so bright as Elsie! Oh! she was throwing away all her chances.
+Did one ever hear of anything so lamentable? No regard for the family:
+no ambition: no sense of what a girl owes to herself: no recognition nor
+gratitude for the gift of good looks&mdash;as if beauty was given for the
+mere purpose of pleasing a penniless lover! And to go and throw herself
+away upon a twopenny lawyer's clerk!</p>
+
+<p>'George,' she said seriously, 'I have thought it all out. If you really
+mean it&mdash;if you really can face poverty&mdash;mind&mdash;it is harder&mdash;much&mdash;for a
+man than a woman&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I can face everything&mdash;with you, Elsie,' replied the lover. Would he
+have been a lover worth having if he had not made that answer? And,
+indeed, he meant it, as every lover should.</p>
+
+<p>'Then&mdash;George&mdash;what in the whole world is there for me unless I can make
+my dear boy happy? I will marry you as soon as you please, rich or poor,
+for better for worse&mdash;whatever they may say at home.&mdash;Will that do for
+you, George?'</p>
+
+<p>Since man is so constituted that his happiness wholly depends upon the
+devotion of a woman, I believe that no dear boy ever had a better chance
+of happiness than George Austin&mdash;only a managing clerk&mdash;with his Elsie.
+And so this history begins where many end, with an engagement.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3>IN THE OFFICE</h3>
+
+<p>'I'll take in your ladyship's name. There is no one with him at this
+moment.&mdash;Oh yes, my lady,' Checkley smiled superior. 'We are always
+busy. We have been busy in this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> office for fifty years and more.&mdash;But I
+am sure he'll see you. Take a chair, my lady. Allow me.'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley, the old clerk, had other and younger clerks with him; but he
+kept in his own hands the duty, or the privilege, of going to the
+private room of the chief. He was sixty-seven when last we saw him.
+Therefore, he was now seventy-five; a little more bent in the shoulders,
+a little more feeble; otherwise unaltered. In age we either shrivel or
+we swell. Those live the longest who shrivel; and those who shrivel
+presently reach a point when they cease to shrink any more till they
+reach the ninetieth year. Checkley was bowed and bent and lean: his face
+was lined multitudinously: his cheeks were shrunken: but not more so
+than eight years before. He wrote down the name of the caller&mdash;Lady
+Dering&mdash;on a square piece of paper, and opened the door with an
+affectation of extreme care not to disturb the chief's nerves by a sharp
+turn of the handle, stepped in as if it was most important that no one
+should be able to peep into the room, and closed the door softly behind
+him. Immediately he reappeared, and held the door wide open, inviting
+the lady to step in. She was young; of good stature and figure,
+extremely handsome in face; of what is called the classical type, and
+very richly dressed. Her carriage might have been seen, on looking out
+of the window, waiting in the square.</p>
+
+<p>'Lady Dering, sir,' said Checkley. Then he swiftly vanished, closing the
+door softly behind him.</p>
+
+<p>'I am glad to see you, Hilda.' The old lawyer rose, tall and commanding,
+and bowed, offering his hand with a stately and old-fashioned courtesy
+which made ladies condone his unmarried condition. 'Why have you called
+this morning? You are not come on any business, I trust. Business with
+ladies who have wealthy husbands generally means trouble of some kind.
+You are not, for instance, in debt with your dressmaker?'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no. Sir Samuel does not allow of any difficulties or awkwardness of
+that kind. It is not about myself that I am here, but about my sister,
+Elsie.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes? What about her? Sit down, and let me hear.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, you know Elsie has always been a trouble to us on account of her
+headstrong and wilful ways. She will not look on things from a
+reasonable point of view. You know that my mother is not rich, as I have
+learnt to consider rich,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> though of course she has enough for a simple
+life and a man-servant and a one-horse brougham. Do you know,' she added
+pensively, 'I have often found it difficult not to repine at a
+Providence which removes a father when he was beginning so well, and
+actually on the high-road to a great fortune.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is certainly difficult to understand the wisdom of these
+disappointments and disasters. We must accept, Hilda, what we cannot
+escape or explain.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;and my mother had nothing but a poor thousand a year!&mdash;though I am
+sure that she has greatly bettered her circumstances by her transactions
+in the City. Well&mdash;I have done all I can, by precept and by example, to
+turn my sister's mind into the right direction. Mr. Dering'&mdash;by long
+habit Hilda still called her guardian, now her brother-in-law, by his
+surname&mdash;'you would hardly believe the folly that Elsie talks about
+money.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps because she has none. Those who have no property do not
+understand it. Young people do not know what it means or what it
+commands. And whether they have it or not, young people do not know what
+the acquisition of property means&mdash;the industry, the watchfulness, the
+carefulness, the self-denial. So Elsie talks folly about money&mdash;well,
+well'&mdash;he smiled indulgently&mdash;'we shall see.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is not only that she talks, but she acts. Mr. Dering, we are in
+despair about her. You know the Rodings?'</p>
+
+<p>'Roding Brothers? Everybody knows Roding Brothers.'</p>
+
+<p>'Algy Roding, the eldest son of the senior partner&mdash;enormously rich&mdash;is
+gone&mdash;quite gone&mdash;foolish about Elsie. He has been at me a dozen times
+about her. He has called at the house to see her. He cares nothing at
+all about her having no money. She refuses even to hear his name
+mentioned. Between ourselves, he has not been, I believe, a very steady
+young man; but of course he would settle down; we could entirely trust
+to a wife's influence in that respect: the past could easily be
+forgotten&mdash;in fact, Elsie need never know it: and the position would be
+splendid. Even mine would not compare with it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why does she object to the man?'</p>
+
+<p>'Says he is an ugly little snob. There is a becoming spirit for a girl
+to receive so rich a lover! But that is not all. She might have him if
+she chose, snob or not, but she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> prefers one of your clerks&mdash;actually,
+Mr. Dering, one of your clerks.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have learned something of this from your mother. She is engaged, I am
+told, to young Austin, one of my managing clerks.'</p>
+
+<p>'Whose income is two hundred pounds a year. Oh! think of it! She refuses
+a man with ten thousand a year at the very least, and wants to marry a
+man with two hundred.'</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose they do not propose to marry on this&mdash;this pittance&mdash;this two
+hundred a year?'</p>
+
+<p>'They are engaged: she refuses to break it off: he has no money to buy a
+partnership: he must therefore continue a clerk on two hundred.'</p>
+
+<p>'Managing clerks get more, sometimes; but, to be sure, the position is
+not good, and the income must always be small.'</p>
+
+<p>'My mother will not allow the man in the house: Elsie goes out to meet
+him: oh, it is most irregular. I should be ashamed for Sir Samuel to
+know it. She actually goes out of the house every evening, and they walk
+about the square garden or in the Park till dark. It is exactly like a
+housemaid going out to meet her young man.'</p>
+
+<p>'It does seem an unusual course; but I am no judge of what is becoming
+to a young lady.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;she needn't go on like a housemaid,' said her sister. 'Of course
+the position of things at home is strained, and I don't know what may
+happen at any moment. Elsie says that she shall be twenty-one next week,
+and that she means to act on her own judgment. She even talks of setting
+up a studio somewhere and painting portraits for money. That is a
+pleasant thing for me to contemplate. My own sister earning her own
+living by painting!'</p>
+
+<p>'How do you think I can interfere in the matter? Lovers' quarrels or
+lovers' difficulties are not made or settled in this room.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Dering, there is no one in the world of whom she is afraid, except
+yourself. There is no one of whose opinion she thinks so much. Will you
+see her? Will you talk with her? Will you admonish her?'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, Hilda, it so happens that I have already invited her to call upon
+me on her birthday, when she ceases to be my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> ward. I will talk to her
+if you please. Perhaps you may be satisfied with the result of my
+conversation.'</p>
+
+<p>'I shall&mdash;I am sure I shall.'</p>
+
+<p>'Let me understand. You desire that your sister shall marry a man who,
+if he is not already rich, should be at least on the high road to
+wealth. You cannot force her to accept even the richest young man in
+London unless she likes him, can you?'</p>
+
+<p>'No. Certainly not. And we can hardly expect her to marry, as I did
+myself, a man whose wealth is already established. Unless she would take
+Algy Roding.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very good. But he must have a certain income, so as to ensure the means
+of an establishment conducted at a certain level.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes. She need not live in Palace Gardens, but she ought to be able to
+live&mdash;say in Pembridge Square.'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite so. I suppose, with an income of fifteen hundred or so to begin
+with. If I make her understand so much, you will be satisfied?'</p>
+
+<p>'Perfectly.&mdash;My dear Mr. Dering, I really believe you have got the very
+young man up your sleeve. But how will you persuade her to give up the
+present intruder?'</p>
+
+<p>'I promise nothing, Hilda&mdash;I promise nothing. I will do my best,
+however.'</p>
+
+<p>Hilda rose and swept back her dress.</p>
+
+<p>'I feel an immense sense of relief,' she said. 'The dear child's
+happiness is all I desire. Perhaps if you were to dismiss the young man
+immediately, with ignominy, and were to refuse him a written character
+on the ground of trying to win the affections of a girl infinitely above
+him in station, it might produce a good effect on Elsie&mdash;showing what
+you think of it&mdash;as well as an excellent lesson for himself and his
+friends. There is no romance about a cast-off clerk. Will you think of
+this, Mr. Dering? The mere threat of such a thing might make him ready
+to give her up; and it might make her inclined for his own sake to send
+him about his business.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will think of it, Hilda.&mdash;By the way, will you and my brother dine
+with me on Monday, unless you are engaged? We can talk over this little
+affair then at leisure.'</p>
+
+<p>'With pleasure. We are only engaged for the evening. Now I won't keep
+you any longer.&mdash;Good-bye.'</p>
+
+<p>She walked away, smiling graciously on the clerks in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> outer office,
+and descended the stairs to the carriage, which waited below.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering returned to his papers. He was not changed in the eight years
+since the stormy interview with this young lady's brother: his small
+whiskers were a little whiter: his iron-gray hair was unchanged; his
+lips were as firm and his nostrils as sharp, his eyes as keen as then.</p>
+
+<p>The room looked out pleasantly upon the garden of New Square, where the
+sunshine lay warm upon the trees with their early summer leaves.
+Sunshine or rain, all the year round, the solicitor sat in his
+high-backed chair before his great table. He sat there this morning
+working steadily until he had got through what he was about. Then he
+looked at his watch. It was past two o'clock. He touched a bell on the
+table, and his old clerk came in.</p>
+
+<p>Though he was the same age as his master, Checkley looked a great deal
+older. He was bald, save for a small white patch over each ear; he was
+bent, and his hands trembled. His expression was sharp, foxy, and
+suspicious. He stood in the unmistakable attitude of a servant, hands
+hanging in readiness, head a little bent.</p>
+
+<p>'The clerks are all gone, I suppose?' said Mr. Dering.</p>
+
+<p>'All gone. All they think about when they come in the morning is how
+soon they will get away. As for any pride in their work, they haven't
+got it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Let them go.&mdash;Checkley, I have wanted to speak to you for some time.'</p>
+
+<p>'Anything the matter?' The old clerk spoke with the familiarity of long
+service which permits the expression of opinions.</p>
+
+<p>'The time has come, Checkley, when we must make a change.'</p>
+
+<p>'A change? Why&mdash;I do my work as well as ever I did&mdash;better than any of
+the younger men. A change?'</p>
+
+<p>'The change will not affect you.'</p>
+
+<p>'It must be for you then. Surely you're never going to retire!'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;I mean to hold on as long as I can. That will only be for a year or
+two at most. I am seventy-five, Checkley.'</p>
+
+<p>'What of that? So am I. You don't find me grumbling about my work, do
+you? Besides, you eat hearty. Your health is good.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Yes, my health is good. But I am troubled of late, Checkley&mdash;I am
+troubled about my memory.'</p>
+
+<p>'So is many a younger man,' returned the clerk stoutly.</p>
+
+<p>'Sometimes I cannot remember in the morning what I was doing the evening
+before.'</p>
+
+<p>'That's nothing. Nothing at all.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yesterday, I looked at my watch, and found that I had been unconscious
+for three hours.'</p>
+
+<p>'You were asleep. I came in and saw you sound asleep.' It was not true,
+but the clerk's intentions were good.</p>
+
+<p>'To go asleep in the morning argues a certain decay of strength. Yet I
+believe that I get through the work as well as ever. The clients do not
+drop off, Checkley. There are no signs of mistrust&mdash;eh? No suspicion of
+failing powers?'</p>
+
+<p>'They think more of you than ever.'</p>
+
+<p>'I believe they do, Checkley.'</p>
+
+<p>'Everybody says you are the top of the profession.'</p>
+
+<p>'I believe I am, Checkley&mdash;I believe I am. Certainly, I am the oldest.
+Nevertheless, seventy-five is a great age to be continuing work. Things
+can't last much longer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Some men go on to eighty, and even ninety.'</p>
+
+<p>'A few&mdash;a few only.' The lawyer sighed. 'One may hope, but must not
+build upon the chance of such merciful prolongation. The older I grow,
+Checkley, the more I enjoy life, especially the only thing that has ever
+made life happy for me&mdash;this work. I cling to it'&mdash;he spread his hands
+over the papers&mdash;'I cling to it. I cannot bear to think of leaving it.'</p>
+
+<p>'That&mdash;and your savings,' echoed the clerk.</p>
+
+<p>'It seems as if I should be content to go on for a hundred years more at
+the work of which I am never tired. And I must leave it before long&mdash;in
+a year&mdash;two years&mdash;who knows? Life is miserably short&mdash;one has no time
+for half the things one would like to do. Well'&mdash;he heaved a deep
+sigh&mdash;'let us work while we can. However, it is better to climb down
+than to be pulled down or shot down. I am going to make preparations,
+Checkley, for the end.'</p>
+
+<p>'What preparations? You're not going to send for a minister, are you?'</p>
+
+<p>'No. Not that kind of preparation. Nor for the doctor either. Nor for a
+lawyer to make my will. All those things are duly attended to. I have
+resolved, Checkley, upon taking a partner.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'You? Take a partner? You? At your time of life?'</p>
+
+<p>'I am going to take a partner. And you are the first person who has been
+told of my intention. Keep it a secret for the moment.'</p>
+
+<p>'Take a partner? Divide your beautiful income by two?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, Checkley. I am going to give a share in that beautiful income to a
+young man.'</p>
+
+<p>'What can a partner do for you that I can't do? Don't I know the whole
+of the office work? Is there any partner in the world who can draw up a
+conveyance better than me?'</p>
+
+<p>'You are very useful, Checkley, as you always have been. But you are not
+a partner, and you never can be.'</p>
+
+<p>'I know that very well. But what's the good of a partner at all?'</p>
+
+<p>'If I have a partner, he will have his own room, and he won't interfere
+with you. There's no occasion for you to be jealous.'</p>
+
+<p>'As for jealous&mdash;well&mdash;after more than sixty years' work in this office,
+it would seem hard to be turned out by some new-comer. But what I say
+is&mdash;what is the good of a partner?'</p>
+
+<p>'The chief good is that the House will be carried on. It is a hundred
+and twenty years old. I confess I do not like the thought of its coming
+to an end when I disappear. That will be to me the most important
+advantage to be gained by taking a partner. The next advantage will be
+that I can turn over to him a quantity of work. And thirdly, he will
+bring young blood and new connections. My mind is quite made up,
+Checkley. I am going to take a partner.'</p>
+
+<p>'Have you found one yet?'</p>
+
+<p>'I have. But I am not going to tell you who he is till the right time
+comes.'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley grumbled inaudibly.</p>
+
+<p>'If I had been less busy,' Mr. Dering went on, 'I might have married and
+had sons of my own to put into the House. But somehow, being very much
+occupied always, and never thinking about such things, I let the time
+pass by. I was never, even as a young man, greatly attracted to love or
+to young women. Their charms, such as they are, seem to me to depend
+upon nothing but a single garment.'</p>
+
+<p>'Take away their frocks,' said Checkley, 'and what are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> they? All
+alike&mdash;all alike. I've been married myself&mdash;women are expensive frauds.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;things being as they are, Checkley, I am going to take a
+partner.'</p>
+
+<p>'You'll do as you like,' said his servant. 'Mark my words, however;
+you've got ten years more of work in you yet&mdash;and all through these ten
+years you'll regret having a partner. Out of every hundred pounds his
+share will have to come. Think of that!'</p>
+
+<p>'It is eight years, I remember,' Mr. Dering went on, 'since first I
+thought of taking a partner. Eight years&mdash;and for much the same reason
+as now. I found my memory going. There were gaps in it&mdash;days, or bits of
+days, which I could not recollect. I was greatly terrified. The man whom
+I first thought of for a partner was that young Arundel, now&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Who forged your name. Lucky you didn't have him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Who ran away in a rage because certain circumstances seemed to connect
+him with the crime.'</p>
+
+<p>'Seemed? Did connect him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then the symptoms disappeared. Now they have returned, as I told you. I
+have always regretted the loss of young Arundel. He was clever and a
+quick worker.'</p>
+
+<p>'He was a forger,' said the clerk stoutly.&mdash;'Is there anything more I
+can do for you?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing; thank you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then I'll go. On Saturday afternoon I collect my little rents. Not
+much&mdash;in your way of thinking. A good deal to me. I hope you'll like
+your partner when you do get him. I hope I shan't live to see him the
+master here and you knuckling under. I hope I shan't see him driving
+away the clients.'</p>
+
+<p>'I hope you will not see any of these distressing consequences,
+Checkley.&mdash;Good-day.'</p>
+
+<p>The old clerk went away, shutting the outer door after him. Then the
+lawyer was the sole occupant of the rooms. He was also the sole occupant
+of the whole house and perhaps of the whole Square. It was three
+o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>He sat leaning back in his chair, looking through the open window upon
+the trees in the Square garden. Presently there fell upon his face a
+curious change. It was as if the whole of the intelligence was taken out
+of it: his eyes gazed steadily into space with no expression whatever in
+them; the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> lips slightly parted, his head fell back; the soul and spirit
+of the man had gone out of him, leaving a machine which breathed.</p>
+
+<p>The watch in his pocket ticked audibly: there was no other sound in the
+room&mdash;the old man sat quite motionless.</p>
+
+<p>Four o'clock struck from the Clock Tower in the High Court of Justice,
+from St. Clement's Church, from Westminster, from half-a-dozen clocks
+which could be heard in the quiet of the Saturday afternoon. But Mr.
+Dering heard nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Still he sat in his place with idle hands, and a face like a mask for
+lack of thought.</p>
+
+<p>The clocks struck five.</p>
+
+<p>He neither moved nor spoke.</p>
+
+<p>The clocks struck six&mdash;seven&mdash;eight.</p>
+
+<p>The shades of evening began to gather in the corners of the room as the
+sun sank lower towards his setting. At twilight in the summer there is
+never anybody to fear&mdash;man, woman, or cat&mdash;in the chambers, and at that
+hour the mice come out. They do not eat parchment or foolscap or red
+tape, but they eat the luncheon crumbs. Mr. Checkley, for instance,
+always brought his dinner in a paper parcel in his coat-tail pocket, and
+ate it when so disposed, sprinkling crumbs lavishly&mdash;the only lavishment
+of which he was ever guilty&mdash;on the floor. Junior clerks brought buns
+and biscuits, or even apples, which they devoured furtively. Mr. Dering
+himself took his luncheon in his own room, leaving crumbs. There was
+plenty for a small colony of mice. They came out, therefore, as usual;
+they stopped at sight of a man, an unwonted man, in a chair. But he
+moved not: he was asleep: he was dead: they ran without fear all about
+the rooms.</p>
+
+<p>It was past nine, when the chambers were as dark as at this season of
+the year they ever are, that Mr. Dering returned to consciousness.</p>
+
+<p>He sat up, staring about him. The room was dark. He looked at his watch.
+Half-past nine. 'What is this?' he asked. 'Have I been asleep for seven
+hours? Seven hours? I was not asleep when Checkley went away. Why did I
+fall asleep? I feel as if I had been somewhere&mdash;doing something. What? I
+cannot remember. This strange sensation comes oftener. It is time that I
+should take a partner before something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> worse happens. I am old&mdash;I am
+old.' He rose and walked across the room erect and with firm step. 'I am
+old and worn out and spent. Time to give up the keys&mdash;old and spent.'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SELECT CIRCLE</h3>
+
+<p>At half-past nine on this Saturday evening, the parlour of the
+<i>Salutation Inn</i>, High Holborn, contained most of its customary
+visitors. They came every evening at eight: and they sat till eleven,
+drinking and talking. In former days every tavern of repute kept such a
+room for its own select circle, a club, or society, of <i>habitu&eacute;s</i>, who
+met every evening, for a pipe and a cheerful glass. In this way all
+respectable burgesses, down to fifty years ago, spent their evenings.
+Strangers might enter the room, but they were made to feel that they
+were there on sufferance: they were received with distance and
+suspicion. Most of the regular visitors knew each other: when thy did
+not, it was tavern politeness not to ask; a case is on record of four
+cronies, who used the <i>Cock</i> in Meet Street for thirty years, not one
+knowing either the name or the trade of the other three. Yet when one
+died, the other three pined away. This good old custom is now decayed.
+The respectable burgess stays at home, which is much more monotonous.
+Yet there may still be found a parlour here and there with a society
+meeting every evening all the year round.</p>
+
+<p>The parlour of the <i>Salutation</i> was a good-sized room wainscoted and
+provided with a sanded floor. It was furnished with a dozen wooden
+chairs, and three small round tables, the chairs disposed in a circle so
+as to prevent corners or cliques in conversation. Sacred is the
+fraternity, liberty, and equality of the parlour. The room was low, and,
+in the evenings, always hot with its two flaming unprotected gas jets;
+the window was never opened except in the morning, and there was always
+present a rich perfume of tobacco, beer, and spirits, both that
+anciently generated and that of the day's creation.</p>
+
+<p>Among the frequenters,&mdash;who were, it must be confessed, a somewhat faded
+or decayed company&mdash;was, to put him first because he was the richest the
+great Mr. Robert Hellyer, of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> Barnard's Inn, usurer or money-lender.
+Nobody quite likes the profession&mdash;one knows not why. Great fortunes
+have been made in it; the same fortunes have been dissipated by the
+money-lenders' heirs. Such fortunes do not stick, somehow. Mr. Hellyer,
+for instance, was reputed wealthy beyond the dreams of the wildest
+desire. It was also said of him, under breath and in whispers and
+envious murmurs, that should a man borrow a five-pound note of him, that
+borrower would count himself lucky if he escaped with the loss of
+seventy-five pounds; and might generally expect to lose the whole of his
+household furniture, and the half of his income, for the rest of his
+natural life. To be sure, he sometimes had losses, as he said himself,
+with a groan; as when an unscrupulous client jumped off the Embankment,
+when he had not paid more than fifty pounds on the original five; or
+when a wicked man sold off his furniture secretly, in contempt of the
+bill of sale, and got clean out of the country with his wife and
+children. But on the whole he did pretty well. It was further said, by
+old clients, that his heart was a simple piece of round granite, for
+which he had no use, and that he made money out of it by letting it out
+at so much an hour for a paving mallet.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Robert Hellyer was not a genial man, or a cheerful or a pleasant man
+to look upon; he neither loved nor comprehended a jest; he never smiled;
+he kept his mind always employed on the conduct of his business. Every
+night&mdash;forgive the solitary weakness&mdash;he drank as much as he could
+carry. In appearance, he was red-faced, thick-necked, and stout; his
+voice was thick even in the morning, when he was under no compulsion to
+thickness; it was believed by his friends that his education had been
+imperfect; perhaps because he never gave anybody reason to suppose that
+he had ever received any education at all. To such men as Mr. Hellyer,
+who every night take much strong drink, and on no occasion whatever take
+any exercise, sixty is the grand climacteric. He was, a year ago, just
+fifty-nine. Alas! he has not even reached his grand climacteric. Already
+he is gone. He was cut off by pneumonia, or apoplexy, last Christmas.
+Those who saw the melancholy <i>cort&egrave;ge</i> filing out of the narrow gates of
+Barnard's Inn, mournfully remarked that none of his money was taken with
+him, and asked what happiness he could possibly find in the next world,
+which he would begin with nothing&mdash;nothing at all&mdash;not even credit&mdash;an
+absolute pauper.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mr. Robert Hellyer sat on one side of the empty fireplace. On the
+opposite side, a great contrast to his coarse and vulgar race, sat an
+elderly man, tall, thin, dressed in a coat whose sleeves were worn to
+shininess. His face was dejected: his features were still fine: he was
+evidently a gentleman. This person was a barrister, decayed and
+unsuccessful; he lived in a garret in Gray's Inn. There are a good many
+wrecks at the Bar, but few quite so forlorn as this poor old man. He
+still professed to practise, and picked up a guinea now and then by
+defending criminals. On these casual fees he managed to live. His
+clothes were threadbare; it was many years since he had had a greatcoat;
+on rainy and cold days he had a thin cape which he wore over his
+shoulders. Heaven knows how he dined and breakfasted; every evening,
+except in the hot days of summer, he came to this place for light and
+warmth. Unless he was very poor indeed, he called for a pint of old and
+mild and read the day's paper. Sometimes he talked, but not often;
+sometimes one or other of the company would offer him a more costly
+drink, which he always accepted with all that was left to him of
+courtesy. Outside, he had no friends; they had all forgotten him or
+died&mdash;it is very easy for a poor man to be forgotten; he had no
+relations; they had all died, emigrated, and dispersed; the relations of
+the unsuccessful are easily lost. When he talked, he sometimes became
+animated, and would tell anecdotes of the Bar and of the time when he
+was called, nearly fifty years agone, by the Benchers of Gray's Inn.
+What had become of the hopes and ambitions with which that young man
+entered upon the profession, which was to lead him to the parlour of the
+<i>Salutation</i> and the company that gathered there&mdash;and to the bare and
+miserable garret of Gray's Inn, forgotten and alone?</p>
+
+<p>Another man, also elderly, who sat next to the barrister, was a
+gentleman who sold an excellent business and retired, in order to betake
+himself more completely to toping. He drank in three taverns during the
+day. One was in Fleet Street, where he took his chop at three; one was
+near Drury Lane Theatre, where he dallied with a little whisky from five
+to nine; and this was the third. He was a quiet, happy, self-respecting,
+dignified old man. In the evening, he spoke not at all&mdash;for sufficient
+reasons; but he benevolently inclined his head if he was addressed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Next to him sat a younger man, a solicitor, whose practice consisted in
+defending prisoners in the Police Courts. He had with him two friends,
+and he had a confident swagger, which passed for ability. Next to him
+and his friends was a house agent, who had been a member for an Irish
+borough: and there was a gentleman, whose wife sang in music halls, so
+that this fortunate person could&mdash;and did&mdash;sit about in taverns all day
+long. His appearance was that of a deboshed City clerk, as he was. Not
+to mention other members of the company, Checkley was there, occupying a
+chair next to the money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>Here he was called Mr. Checkley. He came every evening at nine o'clock,
+Sundays included. Like the money-lender, he wanted his little
+distractions, and took them in this way. Here, too, he was among those
+who respected him, not so much on account of his public and private
+virtues, or for his eminence in the law, as his money. It is not often
+that a solicitor's clerk becomes a 'warm' man, but then it is not often
+that one of the calling deliberately proposes to himself early in life
+to save money, and lives till seventy-five steadily carrying out his
+object. If you are good at figures, you will understand how Mr. Checkley
+succeeded. Between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five he had an income
+which averaged about seventy-five pounds. He lived upon fifty pounds a
+year. From twenty-five to thirty-five he made an average of one hundred
+and fifty pounds: he still lived upon fifty pounds a year. At
+thirty-five he was induced by prudential considerations to marry: the
+lady, considerably his senior, had a thousand pounds. She was even more
+miserly than himself, and in a year or so after marriage, she fell into
+a decline, owing to insufficient nourishment, and presently expired. On
+the whole he calculated that he was the better man for the marriage by a
+thousand pounds. From thirty-five to forty-five his income rose to two
+hundred pounds: it then for twenty-five years stood at three hundred
+pounds a year; at the age of seventy Mr. Dering gave him four hundred
+pounds. Therefore, to sum up, he had put by out of his pay the sum of
+11,675<i>l</i>.&mdash;and this without counting the compound interest always
+mounting up from his investments, which were all of a careful kind such
+as he understood: tenement houses, of which he had a good number: shares
+in building societies: money lent on bills of sale or on mortgage. At
+home&mdash;Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> Checkley lived on the ground floor of one of his own
+houses&mdash;he grew more miserly as he grew older. The standard of luxury is
+not high when fifty pounds a year covers all; but of late he had been
+trying to keep below even that humble amount. He conducted his affairs
+in the evening between his office hours and nine at his own house, or
+among the people where his property lay. It was in the district, visited
+by few, lying east of Gray's Inn Road: his own house was in a certain
+small square, a good half of the houses in which belonged to him.</p>
+
+<p>At nine o'clock he arrived at the tavern. Here his drinks cost him
+nothing. A custom had grown up in the course of years for the
+money-lender to consult him on the many difficult points which arise in
+the practice of his profession. He was one of those who like to have one
+foot over the wall erected by the law, but not both. In other words, he
+was always trying to find out how far the law would allow him to go, and
+where it called upon him to stop. With this view he schemed perpetually
+to make his clients sign bonds under the delusion that they meant a
+hundredth part of what they really did mean. And as, like all ignorant
+men, he had the most profound belief in the power and the knowledge and
+the chicanery of lawyers, he was pleased to obtain Checkley's advice in
+return for Checkley's drinks.</p>
+
+<p>It was a full gathering. The old clerk arrived late: he was gratified at
+hearing the ex-M.P. whispering to his friends that the new arrival was
+worth his twenty thousand pounds if a penny. He swelled with honourable
+pride. Yes. Twenty thousand pounds! And more&mdash;more. Who would have
+thought, when he began as an office boy, that he could ever achieve so
+much?</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender, bursting with a new case, real or supposed, took his
+pipe out of his mouth and communicated it in a hoarse whisper.</p>
+
+<p>'Suppose&mdash;&mdash;' it began.</p>
+
+<p>'Then'&mdash;Checkley replied when the case was finished&mdash;'you would lay
+yourself open to a criminal prosecution. Don't you go so much as to
+think of it. There was a case twenty-five years ago exactly like it. The
+remarks of the judge were most severe, and the sentence was heavy.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah!' The usurer's red face grew redder. 'Then it can't be thought of.
+Pity, too. There's a houseful of furniture and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> a shopful of stuff. And
+a young man as it would do good to him just to start fair again.
+Pity.&mdash;Put a name to it, Mr. Checkley.'</p>
+
+<p>'Rum. Hot. With lemon,' replied the sage. 'You get more taste in your
+mouth, more upliftin' for your heart, as they say, more strengthenin'
+for the stomach, better value all round for your money out of rum than
+any other drink that I know.'</p>
+
+<p>At this point, and before the waiter could execute the order, voices and
+steps were heard outside the room. The voices of two men. That of one
+loud, eager, noisy. That of the other quiet, measured, and calm.</p>
+
+<p>Checkley sat upright suddenly and listened.</p>
+
+<p>'That is young Cambridge,' said the old barrister. 'I thought he would
+be here&mdash;Saturday night and all.' He smiled, as if expectant of
+something, and drank off the rest of his beer at a draught.</p>
+
+<p>'Most distinguished Cambridge man,' whispered the ex-M.P. to his
+friends. 'Wanst a Fellow of Cambridge College. Great scholar. Ornament
+to any circle. Dhrinks likes an oyster. Son of a Bishop too&mdash;Son of an
+Irish Bishop&mdash;Talks Greek like English. He'll come in directly. He's
+taking something outside. He's always half dhrunk to begin, and quite
+dhrunk to finish. But he only talks the better&mdash;being Oirish. Most
+remarkable man.'</p>
+
+<p>The voice of this distinguished person Checkley knew. But the other
+voice? That he knew as well. And he could not remember whose voice it
+was. Very well indeed he remembered the sound of it. Some men never
+forget a face: some men never forget a shape or figure: some men never
+forget a voice: some men never forget a handwriting. A voice is the
+simplest thing, after all, to remember, and the most unchanging. From
+eighteen till eighty a man's voice changes not, save that in volume it
+decreases during the last decade: the distinguishing quality of the
+voice remains the same to the end.</p>
+
+<p>'Have a drink, my dear fellow.' That was the voice of the Pride of
+Cambridge.</p>
+
+<p>'Thanks. I don't want a drink.'</p>
+
+<p>Whose voice was it? Checkley sat up eager for the door to be opened, and
+that doubt to be resolved.</p>
+
+<p>It was opened. The two men came in first, the Cambridge<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> man leading the
+way. He was a good-looking, smooth-faced man of thirty-two or so, with
+bright blue eyes&mdash;too bright&mdash;a fine face, full of delicacy and
+mobility, a high, narrow forehead, and quick sensitive lips; a man who
+was obviously in want of some one to take him in hand and control him:
+one of those men who have no will of their own, and fall naturally
+before any temptation which assails them. The chief temptation which
+assailed Freddy Carstone&mdash;it seems to stamp the man that his friends all
+called him Freddy&mdash;a Freddy is amiable, weak, beloved, and given to err,
+slip, fall, and give way&mdash;was the temptation to drink. He was really, as
+the ex-M.P. told his friends, a very fine scholar: he had been a Fellow
+of his college, but never received any appointment or office of Lecturer
+there on account of this weakness of his, which was notorious. When his
+Fellowship expired, he came to London, lived in Gray's Inn, and took
+pupils. He had the reputation of being an excellent coach if he could be
+caught sober. He was generally sober in the morning; often a little
+elevated in the afternoon; and always cheerfully&mdash;not stupidly&mdash;drunk at
+night.</p>
+
+<p>'You must have a drink,' Freddy repeated. 'Not want a drink? Hang it,
+old man, it isn't what you want, it's what you like. If I only took what
+I wanted, I should be&mdash;what should I be? Fellow and Tutor of the
+college&mdash;very likely Master&mdash;most probably Archdeacon&mdash;certainly Bishop.
+Wasn't my father a Bishop? Now, if you take what you like, as well as
+what you want&mdash;what happens? You go easily and comfortably down
+hill&mdash;down&mdash;down&mdash;down&mdash;like me. Tobogganing isn't easier: the
+switchback railway isn't more pleasant. Always take what you like.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no, Freddy; thanks.'</p>
+
+<p>'What? You've got ambitions still? You want to be climbing? Man alive!
+it's too late. You've stayed away from your friends too long. You can't
+get up. Better join us at the <i>Salutation</i> Club. Come in with me. I'll
+introduce you. They'll be glad to have you. Intellectual conversation
+carried on nightly. Romantic scenery from the back window. Finest
+parlour in London. Come in and sample the Scotch.&mdash;Not want a drink? Who
+ever saw a man who didn't want a drink?'</p>
+
+<p>The other man followed, reluctantly&mdash;and at sight of him Checkley jumped
+in his chair. Then he snatched the paper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> from the hands of the ancient
+barrister, and buried his head in it. The action was most remarkable and
+unmistakable. He hid himself behind the paper; for the man whom the
+Cambridge scholar was dragging into the room was none other than
+Athelstan Arundel&mdash;the very man of whom Mr. Dering had been speaking
+that very afternoon: the very man whose loss he had been regretting: the
+man accused by himself of forgery. So great was his terror at the sight
+of this man that he was fain to hide behind the paper.</p>
+
+<p>Yes: the same man: well dressed, apparently, and prosperous&mdash;in a velvet
+jacket and a white waistcoat, with a big brown beard&mdash;still carrying
+himself with that old insolent pride, as if he had never forged
+anything: looking not a day older, in spite of the eight years that had
+elapsed. What was he doing here?</p>
+
+<p>'Come in, man,' said Freddy again. 'You shall have one drink at least,
+and as many more as you like.&mdash;Robert, two Scotch and soda. We haven't
+met for eight long years. Let us sit down and confess our sins for eight
+years. Where have you been?'</p>
+
+<p>'For the most part&mdash;abroad.'</p>
+
+<p>'You don't look it. He who goes abroad to make his fortune always comes
+home in rags, with a pistol in his coat-tail, and a bowie-knife in his
+belt. At least we are taught so. You wear velvet and fine linen. You
+haven't been abroad. I don't believe you've been farther than
+Camberwell. In fact, Camberwell has been your headquarters. You've been
+living in Camberwell&mdash;on Camberwell Green, which is a slice of Eden,
+with&mdash;perhaps&mdash;didn't pretty Polly Perkins live on Camberwell
+Green?&mdash;for eight long years.'</p>
+
+<p>'Let me call upon you in your lodgings, where we can talk.</p>
+
+<p>'I haven't got any lodgings. I am in Chambers&mdash;I live all by myself in
+Gray's Inn. Come and see me. I am always at home in the mornings&mdash;to
+pupils only&mdash;and generally at home in the afternoon to pupils and topers
+and Lushingtons. Here's your whisky. Sit down. Let me introduce you to
+the company. This is a highly intellectual society&mdash;not what you would
+expect of a Holborn Parlour. It is a club which meets here every
+evening&mdash;a first-class club. Subscription, nothing. Entrance fee,
+nothing. Order what you like. Don't pretend not to know your
+brother-members.&mdash;Gentlemen, this is my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> old friend, Mr. Athelstan
+Arundel, who has been abroad&mdash;on Camberwell Green&mdash;for the sake of Polly
+Perkins&mdash;for eight years, and has now returned.'</p>
+
+<p>The ex-M.P. nudged his friends to call their attention to something
+good. The rest received the introduction and the remarks which followed
+in silence.</p>
+
+<p>'Arundel, the gentleman by the fireplace, he with the pipe&mdash;is our
+Shylock, sometimes called the Lord Shylock.' The money-lender looked up
+with a dull and unintelligent eye: I believe the allusion was entirely
+above his comprehension.&mdash;'Beside him is Mr. Vulpes&mdash;he with his head
+buried in the paper&mdash;you'll see him presently. Mr. Vulpes is advanced in
+years, but well preserved, and knows every letter of the law: he is,
+indeed, an ornament of the lower branch. Vulpes will let you a house&mdash;he
+has many most charming residences&mdash;or will advance you money on
+mortgage. He knows the law of landlord and tenant, and the law regarding
+Bills of Sale. I recommend Vulpes to your friendly consideration.&mdash;Here
+is Senex Bibulus Benevolens.'&mdash;The old gentleman kindly inclined his
+head, being too far gone for speech.&mdash;'Here is a most learned counsel,
+who ought, had merit prevailed, to have been by this time Lord
+Chancellor, Chief Justice, Judge or Master of the Rolls, or Queen's
+Counsel at least. So far he is still a Junior, but we hope for his
+speedy advancement.&mdash;Sir, I entreat the honour of offering you a goblet
+of more generous drink.&mdash;Robert, Irish whisky and a lemon for this
+gentleman.&mdash;There'&mdash;he pointed to the ex-M.P., who again nudged his
+friends and grinned&mdash;'is our legislator and statesman, the pride of his
+constituents, the darling of Ballynacuddery till they turned him
+out.&mdash;There'&mdash;he pointed to the deboshed clerk&mdash;'is a member of a great
+modern profession, a gentleman with whom it is indeed a pride to sit
+down. He is Monsieur le Mari: Monsieur le Mari complaisant et content.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know what you mean,' said the gentleman indicated. 'If you want
+to talk Greek, talk it outside.'</p>
+
+<p>'I cannot stay,' said Athelstan, looking about the room with scant
+respect. 'I will call upon you at your Chambers.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do&mdash;do, my dear fellow.' Athelstan shook hands and walked away. 'Now,
+there's a man, gentlemen, who might have done anything&mdash;anything he
+might have done. Rowed stroke to his boat. Threw up everything eight
+years ago and went away&mdash;nobody knew why. Sad to see so much promise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>
+wasted. Sad&mdash;sad. He hasn't even touched his drink. Then I
+must&mdash;myself.' And he did.</p>
+
+<p>Observe that there is no such lamentation over the failure of a
+promising young man as from one who has also failed. For, by a merciful
+arrangement, the failure seldom suspects himself of having failed.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, Mr. Checkley,' said the barrister, 'he's gone away and you needn't
+hide yourself any longer&mdash;and you can let me have my paper again.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Checkley spoke no more that evening. He drank up his rum-and-water,
+and he went away mightily perturbed. That Athelstan Arundel had come
+back portended that something would happen. And like King Cole's
+prophet, he could not foretell the nature of the event.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3>A REBELLIOUS CHILD</h3>
+
+<p>Elsie left her lover at the door. Most accepted suitors accompany their
+sweethearts into the very bosom of the family&mdash;the gyn&aelig;ceum&mdash;the
+parlour, as it used to be called. Not so George Austin. Since the
+engagement&mdash;the deplorable engagement&mdash;it was understood that he was not
+to presume upon entering the house. Romeo might as well have sent in his
+card to Juliet's mamma. In fact, that lady could not possibly regard the
+pretensions of Romeo more unfavourably than Mrs. Arundel did those of
+George Austin. This not on account of any family inequality, for his
+people were no more decidedly of the middle class than her own. That is
+to say, they numbered as many members who were presentable and quite as
+many who were not. Our great middle class is pretty well alike in this
+respect. In every household there are things which may be paraded and
+things <i>tacenda</i>: members unsuccessful, members disgraceful. All the
+world knows all the things which must be concealed: we all know that all
+the world knows them; but still we pretend that there are no such
+things, and so we maintain the family dignity. Nor could the widow
+object to George on account of his religious opinions, in which he
+dutifully followed his forefathers; or of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> his abilities, manners,
+morals, culture, accomplishments, or outward appearance, in all of which
+he was everything that could be expected of a young man who had his own
+fortune to make. A rich young man has no need of manners, morals,
+abilities, or accomplishments: a thing too often forgotten by satirists
+when they depict the children of Sir Midas Georgias and his tribe. The
+lady's objection was simply and most naturally that the young man had
+nothing and would probably never have anything: that he was a managing
+clerk without money to buy a partnership in a highly congested
+profession. To aggravate this objection, he stood in the way of two most
+desirable suitors who were supposed to be ready should Elsie give them
+any encouragement. They were a rich old man whose morals could no longer
+be questioned; and a rich young man whose morals would doubtless improve
+with marriage&mdash;if, that is, they wanted improvement, for on this
+delicate subject ladies find it difficult to get reliable information.
+And, again, the exalted position of the elder sister should have been an
+example and a beacon. Which of you, Mesdames, would look on with
+patience at such a sacrifice&mdash;a young and lovely daughter thrown away,
+with all her charms and all her chances, upon a man with two hundred
+pounds a year and no chance of anything much better? Think of it&mdash;two
+hundred pounds a year&mdash;for a gentlewoman!</p>
+
+<p>There are some families&mdash;many families&mdash;with whom the worship of wealth
+is hereditary. The Arundels have been City people, married with other
+City people&mdash;in trade&mdash;for two hundred years and more: they are all
+members of City Companies: there have been Lord Mayors and Sheriffs
+among them: some of them&mdash;for they are now a clan&mdash;are rich: some are
+very rich; one or two are very, very rich: those who fail and go
+bankrupt quickly drop out of sight. All their traditions are of
+money-getting: they estimate success and worth and respect by the amount
+a man leaves behind&mdash;it is the good old tradition: they talk of money:
+they are not vulgar or loud or noisy or disagreeable in any way: but
+they openly and without disguise worship the great god Plutus and
+believe that he, and none other, is the God of the Christians. They have
+as much culture as other people, at least to outward show: they furnish
+their houses as artistically as other people: they buy pictures and
+books: but ideas do not touch them: if they read new ideas, they are not
+affected by them,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> however skilfully they may be put: they go to Church
+and hear the parable about Dives and they wonder how Dives could have
+been so hard-hearted. Then they go home and talk about money.</p>
+
+<p>Elsie's father, a younger son of the richest branch of this family,
+started with a comfortable little fortune and a junior partnership. He
+was getting on very well indeed: he had begun to show the stuff of which
+he was made, a good, stout, tenacious kind of stuff, likely to last and
+to hold out; he was beginning to increase his fortune: he looked forward
+to a successful career: and he hoped to leave behind him, after many,
+many years, perhaps three-quarters of a million. He was only thirty-five
+years of age, yet he was struck down and had to go. His widow received
+little more than her husband's original fortune: it was small compared
+with what she might fairly have expected when she married, but it was
+large enough for her to live with her three children in Pembridge
+Gardens. What happened to the son, you know. He went away in a royal
+rage and had never been heard of since. The elder daughter, Hilda, when
+about two-and-twenty, as you also know, had the good fortune to attract
+the admiration of a widower of very considerable wealth, the brother of
+her guardian. He was forty years older than herself, but he was
+rich&mdash;nay, very rich indeed. Jute, I believe, on an extensive scale, was
+the cause of his great fortune. He was knighted on a certain great
+occasion when Warden of his Company, so that he offered his bride a
+title and precedence, as well as a great income, a mansion in Palace
+Gardens, a handsome settlement, carriages and horses, and everything
+else that the feminine heart can desire.</p>
+
+<p>The widow, soon after her husband died, found the time extremely dull
+without the daily excitement of the City talk to which she had been
+accustomed. There was no one with whom she could discuss the money
+market. Now, all her life, she had been accustomed to talk of shares and
+stocks and investments and fluctuations and operations and buying in and
+selling out. She began, therefore, to watch the market on her own
+account. Then she began to operate: then she gave her whole time and all
+her thoughts to the business of studying, watching, reading, and
+forecasting. Of course, then, she lost her money and fell into
+difficulties. Nothing of the kind: she made money. There is always
+plenty of virtuous indignation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> ready for those foolish persons who
+dabble in stocks. They are gamblers; they always lose in the long run:
+we all know that; the copy-books tell us so. If two persons play heads
+and tails for sovereigns, do they both lose in the long run? If so, who
+wins? Where does the money go? Even a gambler need not always lose in
+the long run, as all gamblers know. <i>La veuve</i> Arundel was not in any
+sense a gambler. Nor was she a dabbler. She was a serious and
+calculating operator. She took up one branch of the great money market
+and confined her attentions to that branch, which she studied with so
+much care and assiduity that she became a professional; that is to say,
+she threw into the study all her energies, all her thoughts, and all her
+intellect. When a young man does this on the Stock Exchange he may
+expect to win. Mrs. Arundel was not an ordinary young man; she was a
+sharp and clever woman: by hard work she had learned all that can be
+learned, and had acquired some of that prescience which comes of
+knowledge&mdash;the prophet of the future is, after all, he who knows and can
+discuss the forces and the facts of the present: the Sibyl at the
+present day would be a journalist. She was clear-headed, quick to see
+and ready to act: she was of a quick temper as well as a quick
+perception: and she was resolute. Such qualities in most women make them
+absolute sovereigns in the household. Mrs. Arundel was not an absolute
+sovereign&mdash;partly because she thought little of her household, and
+partly because her children were distinguished by much the same
+qualities, and their subjection would have proved difficult if not
+impossible.</p>
+
+<p>This was the last house in London where one might have expected to find
+a girl who was ready to despise wealth and to find her happiness in a
+condition of poverty. Elsie was completely out of harmony with all her
+own people. There is a good deal of opinion going about in favour of the
+simple life: many girls have become socialists in so far as they think
+the amassing of wealth neither desirable nor worthy of respect: many
+would rather marry a man of limited means who has a profession than a
+rich man who has a business: many girls hold that Art is a much finer
+thing than wealth. Elsie learned these pernicious sentiments at school:
+they attracted her at first because they were so fresh: she found all
+the best literature full of these sentiments: she developed in due
+course a certain natural ability for art: she attended an art school:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>
+she set up an easel: she painted in pastel: she called her room a
+studio. She gave her friends the greatest uneasiness by her opinions:
+she ended, as you have seen, by becoming engaged to a young man with
+nothing. How could such a girl be born of such parents?</p>
+
+<p>When she got home on Saturday evening she found her mother playing a
+game of double <i>vingt un</i> with a certain cousin, one Sydney Arundel. The
+game is very good for the rapid interchange of coins: you should make it
+a time game, to end in half an hour&mdash;one hour&mdash;two hours, and at the end
+you will find that you have had a very pretty little gamble. Mrs.
+Arundel liked nothing better than a game of cards&mdash;provided the stakes
+were high enough to give it excitement. To play cards for love is indeed
+insipid: it is like a dinner of cold boiled mutton or like sandwiches of
+veal. The lady would play anything, piquet, &eacute;cart&eacute;, double dummy&mdash;and
+her daughter Elsie hated the sight of cards. As for the cousin, he was
+on the Stock Exchange: he came often to dinner and to talk business
+after dinner. He was a kind of musical box or barrel organ in
+conversation, because he could only play one tune. His business as well
+as his pleasure was in the money market.</p>
+
+<p>'So you have come home, Elsie?' said Mrs. Arundel coldly.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I have come home.' Elsie seated herself at the window and waited.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, Sydney'&mdash;her mother took up the cards. 'My deal&mdash;will you take any
+more?'</p>
+
+<p>She was a good-looking woman still, though past fifty: her abundant hair
+had gone pleasantly gray, her features were fine, her brown eyes were
+quick and bright: her lips were firm, and her chin straight. She was
+tall and of good figure: she was clad in black silk, with a large gold
+chain about her neck and good lace upon her shoulders. She wore many
+rings and a bracelet. She liked, in fact, the appearance of wealth as
+well as the possession of it: she therefore always appeared in costly
+raiment: her house was furnished with a costly solidity: everything,
+even the bindings of her books, was good to look at: her one man-servant
+looked like the responsible butler of a millionaire, and her one-horse
+carriage looked as if it belonged to a dozen.</p>
+
+<p>The game went on. Presently, the clock struck ten.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> 'Time,' said the
+lady. 'We must stop. Now then. Let us see&mdash;I make it seventy-three
+shillings.&mdash;Thank you. Three pounds thirteen&mdash;an evening not altogether
+wasted.&mdash;And now, Sydney, light your cigar. You know I like it. You
+shall have your whisky and soda&mdash;and we will talk business. There are
+half-a-dozen things that I want to consult you about. Heavens! why
+cannot I be admitted to the Exchange? A few women among you&mdash;clever
+women, like myself, Sydney&mdash;would wake you up.'</p>
+
+<p>They talked business for an hour, the lady making notes in a little
+book, asking questions and making suggestions. At last the cousin got
+up&mdash;it was eleven o'clock&mdash;and went away. Then her mother turned to
+Elsie.</p>
+
+<p>'It is a great pity,' she said, 'that you take no interest in these
+things.'</p>
+
+<p>'I dislike them very much, as you know,' said Elsie.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;you dislike them because they are of real importance. Well&mdash;never
+mind.&mdash;You have been out with the young man, I suppose?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;we have been on the river together.'</p>
+
+<p>'I supposed it was something of the kind. So the housemaid keeps company
+with the potboy without consulting her own people.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is nothing unusual for me to spend an evening with George. Why not?
+You will not suffer me to bring him here.'</p>
+
+<p>'No,' said her mother with firmness. 'That young man shall never, under
+any circumstances, enter this house with my knowledge! For the rest,'
+she added, 'do as you please.'</p>
+
+<p>This was the kind of amiable conversation that had been going on day
+after day since Elsie's engagement&mdash;protestations of ceasing to
+interfere, and continual interference.</p>
+
+<p>There are many ways of considering the subject of injudicious and
+unequal marriages. You may ridicule: you may cajole: you may argue: you
+may scold: you may coax: you may represent the naked truth as it is, or
+you may clothe its limbs with lies&mdash;the lies are of woven stuff, strong,
+and home-made. When you have an obdurate, obstinate, contumacious,
+headstrong, wilful, self-contained maiden to deal with, you will waste
+your breath whatever you do. The mother treated Elsie with scorn, and
+scorn alone. It was her only weapon. Her elder sister tried other
+weapons: she laughed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> at the makeshifts of poverty: she cajoled with
+soft flattery and golden promises: she argued with logic pitiless: she
+scolded like a fishwife: she coaxed with tears and kisses: she painted
+the loveliness of men who are rich, and the power of women who are
+beautiful. And all in vain. Nothing moved this obdurate, obstinate,
+contumacious, headstrong, wilful Elsie. She would stick to her promise:
+she would wed her lover even if she had to entertain Poverty as well all
+her life.</p>
+
+<p>'Are you so infatuated,' the mother went on, 'that you cannot see that
+he cares nothing for your happiness? He thinks about nobody but himself.
+If he thought of you, he would see that he was too poor to make you
+happy, and he would break it off. As it is, all he wants is to marry
+you.'</p>
+
+<p>'That is indeed all. He has never disguised the fact.'</p>
+
+<p>'He offers you the half of a bare crust.'</p>
+
+<p>'By halving the crust we shall double it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! I have no patience. But there is an end. You know my opinion, and
+you disregard it. I cannot lock you up, or beat you, for your
+foolishness. I almost wish I could. I will neither reason with you any
+more nor try to dissuade you. Go your own way.'</p>
+
+<p>'If you would only understand. We are going to live very simply. We
+shall put all unhappiness outside the luxuries of life. And we shall get
+on if we never get rich. I wish I could make you understand our point of
+view. It makes me very unhappy that you will take such a distorted
+view.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am glad that you can still feel unhappiness at such a cause as my
+displeasure.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, mother, to-night we have come to a final decision.'</p>
+
+<p>'Am I to learn it?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; I wish to tell you at once. We have been engaged for two years.
+The engagement has brought me nothing but wretchedness at home. But I
+should be still more wretched&mdash;I should be wretched all my life&mdash;if I
+were to break it off. I shall be of age in a day or two and free to act
+on my own judgment.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are acting on your own judgment already.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have promised George that I will marry him when he pleases&mdash;that is,
+about the middle of August, when he gets his holiday.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Oh! The misery of poverty will begin so soon? I am sorry to hear it. As
+I said above, I have nothing to say against it&mdash;no persuasion or
+dissuasion&mdash;you will do as you please.'</p>
+
+<p>'George has his profession, and he has a good name already. He will get
+on. Meantime, a little plain living will hurt neither of us. Can't you
+think that we may begin in a humble way and yet get on?
+Money&mdash;money&mdash;money. Oh! Must we think of nothing else?'</p>
+
+<p>'What is there to think of but money? Look round you, silly child. What
+gives me this house&mdash;this furniture&mdash;everything? Money. What feeds you
+and clothes you? Money. What gives position, consideration, power,
+dignity? Money. Rank without money is contemptible. Life without money
+is miserable, wretched, intolerable. Who would care to live when the
+smallest luxury&mdash;the least comfort&mdash;has to be denied for want of money.
+Even the Art of which you talk so much only becomes respectable when it
+commands money. You cannot keep off disease without money; you cannot
+educate your children without money: it will be your worst punishment in
+the future that your children will sink and become servants. Child!' she
+cried passionately, 'we must be masters or servants&mdash;nay&mdash;lords or
+slaves. You leave the rank of lord and marry the rank of slave. It is
+money that makes the difference&mdash;money&mdash;money&mdash;money&mdash;that you pretend
+to despise. It is money that has done everything for you. Your
+grandfather made it&mdash;your father made it&mdash;I am making it. Go on in your
+madness and your folly. In the end, when it is too late, you will long
+for money, pray for money, be ready to do anything for money&mdash;for your
+husband and your children.'</p>
+
+<p>'We shall have, I hope, enough. We shall work for enough&mdash;no more.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, child,' her mother returned quietly, 'I said that I would say
+nothing. I have been carried away. Let there be no more said. Do as you
+please. You know my mind&mdash;your sister's mind&mdash;your cousins'&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I do not wish to be guided by my cousins.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well. You will stay here until your wedding day. When you marry
+you will leave this house&mdash;and me and your sister and all your people.
+Do not expect any help from me. Do not look forward to any inheritance
+from me. My money<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> is all my own to deal with as I please. If you wish
+to be poor you shall be poor. Hilda tells me that you are to see your
+guardian on Monday. Perhaps he may bring you to your senses. As for
+me&mdash;I shall say no more.'</p>
+
+<p>With these final words the lady left the room and went to bed. How many
+times had she declared that she would say no more?</p>
+
+<p>The next day being Sunday, the bells began to ring in the morning, and
+the two ladies sallied forth to attend Divine service as usual. They
+walked side by side, in silence. That sweet and gracious nymph, the Lady
+Charity, was not with them in their pew. The elder lady, externally
+cold, was full of resentment and bitterness: the younger was more than
+usually troubled by the outbreak of the evening. Yet, she was no nearer
+surrender. The sermon, by a curious coincidence, turned upon the
+perishable nature of earthly treasures, and the vanity of the objects
+desired by that unreasoning person whom they used to call the Worldling.
+The name has perished, but the creature still exists, and is found in
+countless herds in every great town. The parsons are always trying to
+shoot him down; but they never succeed. There was just a fiery passage
+or two directed against the species. Elsie hoped that the words would go
+home. Not at all. They fell upon her mother's heart like seed upon the
+rock. She heard them, but heard them not. The Worldling, you see, never
+understands that he is a Worldling. Nor does Dives believe himself to be
+anything more than Lazarus, such is his modesty.</p>
+
+<p>The service over, they went home in silence. They took their early
+dinner in silence, waited on by the solemn man-servant. After dinner,
+Elsie sought the solitude of her studio. And here&mdash;nobody looking
+on&mdash;she obeyed the first law of her sex, and had a good cry. Even the
+most resolute of maidens cannot carry through a great scheme against
+great opposition without the consolation of a cry.</p>
+
+<p>On the table lay a note from Mr. Dering:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'<span class="smcap">My dear Ward</span>&mdash;I am reminded that you come of age on Monday.
+I am also reminded by Hilda that you propose to take a very
+important step against the wish of your mother. Will you
+come and see me at ten o'clock to talk this over?&mdash;Your
+affectionate Guardian.'</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Not much hope to be got out of that letter. A dry note from a dry man.
+Very little doubt as to the line which he would take. Yet, not an unkind
+letter. She put it back in her desk and sighed. Another long discussion.
+No: she would not discuss&mdash;she would listen, and then state her
+intention. She would listen again, and once more state her intention.</p>
+
+<p>On the easel stood an almost finished portrait in pastel, executed from
+a photograph. It was the portrait of her guardian. She had caught&mdash;it
+was not difficult with a face so marked&mdash;the set expression, the closed
+lips, the keen eyes, and the habitual look of caution and watchfulness
+which become the characteristics of a solicitor in good practice. So far
+it was a good likeness. But it was an austere face. Elsie, with a few
+touches of her thumb and the chalk which formed her material, softened
+the lines of the mouth, communicated to the eyes a more genial light,
+and to the face an expression of benevolence which certainly had never
+before been seen upon it.</p>
+
+<p>'There!' she said. 'If you would only look like that to-morrow, instead
+of like your photograph, I should have no fear at all of what you would
+say. I would flatter you, and coax you, and cajole you, till you had
+doubled George's salary and promised to get round my mother. You dear
+old man! You kind old man! You sweet old man! I could kiss you for your
+kindness.'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3>SOMETHING HAPPENS</h3>
+
+<p>So far a truly enjoyable Sunday. To sit in church beside her angry
+mother, both going through the forms of repentance, charity, and
+forgiveness: and to dine together, going through the ordinary forms of
+kindliness while one at least was devoured with wrath. Waste of good
+roast lamb and gooseberry tart!</p>
+
+<p>Elsie spent the afternoon in her studio, where she sat undisturbed.
+People called, but her mother received them. Now that the last
+resolution had been taken: now that she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> had promised her lover to brave
+everything and to live the simplest possible life for love's sweet sake,
+she felt that sinking which falls upon the most courageous when the
+boats are burned. Thus Love makes loving hearts to suffer.</p>
+
+<p>The evening, however, made amends. For then, like the housemaid, who
+mounted the area stair as Elsie went down the front-door steps, she went
+forth to meet her lover, and in his company forgot all her fears. They
+went to church together. There they sat side by side, this church not
+having adopted the barbarous custom of separating the sexes&mdash;a custom
+which belongs to the time when women were monkishly considered unclean
+creatures, and the cause, to most men, of everlasting suffering, which
+they themselves would most justly share. This couple sat hand in hand;
+the service was full of praise and hope and trust: the Psalms were
+exultant, triumphant, jubilant: the sermon was a ten minutes'
+ejaculation of joy and thanks: there was a Procession with banners, to
+cheer up the hearts of the faithful&mdash;what is Faith without a Procession?
+Comfort stole back to Elsie's troubled heart: she felt less like an
+outcast: she came out of the church with renewed confidence.</p>
+
+<p>It was still daylight. They walked round and round the nearest square.
+Jane the housemaid and her young man were doing the same thing. They
+talked with confidence and joy of the future before them. Presently the
+rain began to fall, and Elsie's spirits fell too.</p>
+
+<p>'George,' she said, 'are we selfish, each of us? Is it right for me to
+drag and keep you down?'</p>
+
+<p>'You will not. You will raise me and keep me up. Never doubt that,
+Elsie. I am the selfish one because I make you sacrifice so much.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! no&mdash;no. It is no sacrifice for me. You must make me brave, George,
+because I am told every day by Hilda and my mother the most terrible
+things. I have been miserable all day long. I suppose it is the battle I
+had with my mother yesterday.'</p>
+
+<p>'Your mother will be all right again as soon as the thing is done. And
+Hilda will come round too. She will want to show you her new carriage
+and her newest dress. Nobody admires and envies the rich relation so
+much as the poor relation. That is the reason why the poor relation is
+so much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> courted and petted in every rich family. We shall be the poor
+relations, you know, Elsie.'</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose so. We must accept the part and play it properly.' She spoke
+gaily, but with an effort.</p>
+
+<p>'She will give you some of her old dresses. And she will ask us to some
+of her crushes; but we won't go. Oh! Hilda will come round. As for your
+mother&mdash;&mdash;' He repressed what he was about to say. 'As for your mother,
+Elsie, there is no obstinacy so desperate that it cannot be softened by
+something or other. The constant dropping, you know. Give her time. If
+she refuses to change&mdash;why&mdash;then'&mdash;again he changed the words in
+time&mdash;'dear child, we must make our own happiness for ourselves without
+our own folk to help us.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; we will. At the same time, George, though I am so valiant in talk,
+I confess that I feel as low as a schoolboy who is going to be
+punished.'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear Elsie,' said George, with a little exasperation, 'if they will
+not come round, let them stay flat or square, or sulky, or anything. I
+can hardly be expected to feel very anxious for a change of temper in
+people who have said so many hard things of me. To-morrow, dear, you
+shall get through your talk with Mr. Dering. He's as hard as nails; but
+he's a just man, and he is sensible. In the evening, I will call for you
+at nine, and you shall tell me what he said. In six weeks we can be
+married. I will see about the banns. We will find a lodging somewhere,
+pack up our things, get married, and move in. We can't afford a
+honeymoon, I am afraid. That shall come afterwards when the ship comes
+home.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes. When I am with you I fear nothing. It is when you are gone: when I
+sit by myself in my own room, and know that in the next room my mother
+is brooding over her wrath and keeping it warm&mdash;that I feel so guilty.
+To-night, it is not that I feel guilty at all: it is quite the contrary;
+but I feel as if something was going to happen.'</p>
+
+<p>'Something is going to happen, dear. I am going to put a wedding ring
+round this pretty finger.'</p>
+
+<p>'When one says something in the language of superstition one means
+something bad, something dreadful, something that shall stand between us
+and force us apart. Something unexpected.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'My child,' said her lover, 'all the powers of all the devils shall not
+force us apart.' A daring and comprehensive boast.</p>
+
+<p>She laughed a little, lightened by words so brave. 'Here we are, dear,'
+she said, as they arrived at the house. 'I think the rain means to come
+down in earnest. You had better make haste home. To-morrow evening at
+nine, I will expect you.'</p>
+
+<p>She ran lightly up the steps and rang the bell: the door was opened: she
+turned her head, laughed, waved her hand to her lover, and ran in.</p>
+
+<p>There was standing on the kerb beneath the street lamp a man apparently
+engaged in lighting a cigar. When the girl turned, the light of the lamp
+fell full upon her face. The man stared at her, forgetting his
+cigar-light, which fell burning from his hand into the gutter. When the
+door shut upon her, he stared at George, who, for his part, his mistress
+having vanished, stared at the door.</p>
+
+<p>All this staring occupied a period of at least half a minute. Then
+George turned and walked away: the man struck another light, lit his
+cigar, and strode away too, but in the same direction. Presently he
+caught up George and laid a hand upon his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>'Here, you sir,' he said gruffly; 'I want a word with you before we go
+any further.'</p>
+
+<p>George turned upon him savagely. Nobody likes a heavy hand laid upon the
+shoulder. In the old days it generally meant a writ and Whitecross
+Street and other unpleasant things.</p>
+
+<p>'Who the devil are you?' he asked.</p>
+
+<p>'That is the question I was going&mdash;&mdash;' He stopped and laughed.&mdash;'No&mdash;I
+see now. I don't want to ask it. You are George Austin, are you not?'</p>
+
+<p>'That is my name. But who are you&mdash;and what do you want with me?'</p>
+
+<p>The man was a stranger to him. He was dressed in a velvet coat and a
+white waistcoat: he wore a soft felt hat; and with the velvet jacket,
+the felt hat, and a full beard, he looked like an artist of some kind.
+At the end of June it is still light at half-past nine. George saw that
+the man was a gentleman: his features, strongly marked and clear cut,
+reminded him of something&mdash;but vaguely; they gave him the common feeling
+of having been seen or known at some remote period. The man looked about
+thirty, the time when the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> physical man is at his best: he was of good
+height, well set up, and robust. Something, no doubt, in the art world:
+or something that desired to appear as if belonging to the art world.
+Because, you see, the artists themselves are not so picturesque as those
+who would be artists if they could. The unsuccessful artist, certainly,
+is sometimes a most picturesque creature. So is the model. The rags and
+duds and threadbarity too often enter largely into the picturesque. So
+with the ploughboy's dinner under the hedge, or the cotter's Saturday
+night. And the village beershop may make a very fine picture; but the
+artist himself does not partake in those simple joys.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, sir, who are you?' George repeated as the other man made no
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Do you not remember me? I am waiting to give you a chance.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;certainly not.'</p>
+
+<p>'Consider. That house into which you have just taken my&mdash;a young
+lady&mdash;does it not connect itself with me?'</p>
+
+<p>'No. Why should it?'</p>
+
+<p>'Then I suppose that I am completely forgotten.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is very strange. I seem to recall your voice.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will tell you who I am by another question. George Austin, what in
+thunder are you doing with my sister?'</p>
+
+<p>'Your sister?' George jumped up and stared. 'Your sister? Are you&mdash;are
+you Athelstan come home again? Really and truly&mdash;Athelstan?'</p>
+
+<p>'I am really and truly Athelstan. I have been back in England about a
+fortnight.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are Athelstan?' George looked at him curiously. When the reputed
+black-sheep comes home again, it is generally in rags with a long story
+of fortune's persecutions. This man was not in the least ragged. On the
+contrary, he looked prosperous. What had he been doing? For, although
+Elsie continued passionate in her belief in her brother's innocence,
+everybody else believed that he had run away to escape consequences, and
+George among the number had accepted that belief.</p>
+
+<p>'Your beard alters you greatly. I should not have known you. To be sure
+it is eight years since I saw you last, and I was only just beginning my
+articles when you&mdash;left us.' He was on the point of saying 'when you ran
+away.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'There is a good deal to talk about. Will you come with me to my rooms?
+I am putting up in Half Moon Street.'</p>
+
+<p>Athelstan hailed a passing hansom and they drove off.</p>
+
+<p>'You have been a fortnight in London,' said George, 'and yet you have
+not been to see your own people.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have been eight years away, and yet I have not written a single
+letter to my own people.'</p>
+
+<p>George asked no more questions. Arrived at the lodging, they went in and
+sat down. Athelstan produced soda and whisky and cigars.</p>
+
+<p>'Why have I not called upon my own people?' Athelstan took up the
+question again. 'Because, when I left home, I swore that I would never
+return until they came to beg forgiveness. That is why. Every evening I
+have been walking outside the house, in the hope of seeing some of them
+without their seeing me. For, you see, I should like to go home again;
+but I will not go as I went away, under a shameful cloud. That has got
+to be lifted first. Presently I shall know whether it is lifted. Then I
+shall know how to act. To-night, I was rewarded by the sight of my
+sister Elsie, walking home with you. I knew her at once. She is taller
+than I thought she would become when I went away. Her face hasn't
+changed much, though. She always had the gift of sweet looks, which
+isn't quite the same thing as beauty. My sister Hilda, for instance, was
+always called a handsome girl, but she never had Elsie's sweet looks.'</p>
+
+<p>'She has the sweetest looks in the world.'</p>
+
+<p>'What are you doing with her, George Austin, I ask again?'</p>
+
+<p>'We are engaged to be married.'</p>
+
+<p>'Married? Elsie married? Why&mdash;she's&mdash;well&mdash;I suppose she must be grown
+up by this time.'</p>
+
+<p>'Elsie is very nearly one-and-twenty. She will be twenty-one to-morrow.'</p>
+
+<p>'Elsie going to be married. It seems absurd. One-and-twenty to-morrow.
+Ah!' He sat up eagerly. 'Tell me, is she any richer? Has she had any
+legacies or things?'</p>
+
+<p>'No. How should she? Her <i>dot</i> is her sweet self, which is enough for
+any man.'</p>
+
+<p>'And you, Austin. I remember you were an articled clerk of eighteen or
+nineteen when I went away&mdash;are you rich?'</p>
+
+<p>Austin blushed. 'No,' he said; 'I am not. I am a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> managing clerk at your
+old office. I get two hundred a year, and we are going to marry on
+that.'</p>
+
+<p>Athelstan nodded. 'A bold thing to do. However&mdash;&mdash;Twenty-one
+to-morrow&mdash;we shall see.'</p>
+
+<p>'And I am sorry to say there is the greatest opposition&mdash;on the part of
+your mother and your other sister. I am not allowed in the house, and
+Elsie is treated as a rebel.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! well. If you see your way, my boy, get married, and have a happy
+life, and leave them to come round at their leisure. Elsie has a heart
+of gold. She can believe in a man. She is the only one of my people who
+stood up for me when they accused me without a shadow of proof of&mdash;&mdash;
+The only one&mdash;the only one. It is impossible for me to forget that&mdash;and
+difficult,' he added, 'to forgive the other thing.&mdash;Is my sister Hilda
+still at home?'</p>
+
+<p>'No. She is married to Sir Samuel, brother of your Mr. Dering. He is a
+great deal older than his wife; but he is very rich.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!&mdash;and my mother?'</p>
+
+<p>'I believe she continues in good health. I am not allowed the privilege
+of calling upon her.'</p>
+
+<p>'And my old chief?'</p>
+
+<p>'He also continues well.'</p>
+
+<p>'And now, since we have cleared the ground so far, let us come to
+business. How about that robbery?'</p>
+
+<p>'What robbery?' The old business had taken place when George was a lad
+just entering upon his articles. He had ceased to think of it.</p>
+
+<p>'What robbery? Man alive!'&mdash;Athelstan sprang to his feet&mdash;'there is only
+one robbery to me in the whole history of the world since men and
+robberies began. What robbery? Look here, Master George Austin, when a
+man is murdered, there is for that man only one murder in the whole
+history of the world. All the other murders, even that of Abel himself,
+are of no concern at all&mdash;not one bit. He isn't interested in them. They
+don't matter to him a red cent. That's my case. The robbery of eight
+years ago, which took a few hundred pounds from a rich man, changed my
+whole life; it drove me out into the world; it forced me for a time to
+live among the prodigals and the swine and the husks. It handed me over
+to a thousand devils; and you ask me what robbery?'</p>
+
+<p>'I am very sorry. It is now a forgotten thing. Nobody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> remembers it any
+more. I doubt whether Mr. Dering himself ever thinks of it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, what was discovered after all? Who did it?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing at all has been discovered. No one knows to this day who did
+it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing at all?&mdash;I am disappointed. Hasn't old Checkley done time for
+it? Nothing found out?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing. The notes were stopped in time, and were never presented.
+After five or six years the Bank of England gave Mr. Dering notes in the
+place of those stolen. And that is all there is to tell.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing discovered! And the notes never presented? What good did the
+fellow get by it, then?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know. But nothing was discovered.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing discovered!' Athelstan repeated. 'Why, I took it for granted
+that the truth had come out long since. I was making up my mind to call
+upon old Dering. I don't think I shall go now.&mdash;And my sister Hilda will
+not be coming here to express her contrition. I am disappointed.'</p>
+
+<p>'You can see Elsie if you like.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;I can see her,' he repeated.&mdash;'George'&mdash;he returned to the old
+subject&mdash;'do you know the exact particulars of that robbery?'</p>
+
+<p>'There was a forged cheque, and the Bank paid it across the counter.'</p>
+
+<p>'The cheque,' Athelstan explained, 'was made payable to the order of a
+certain unknown person named Edmund Gray. It was endorsed by that name.
+To prove that forgery, they should have got the cheque and examined the
+endorsement. That was the first thing, certainly. I wonder how they
+began.'</p>
+
+<p>'I do not know. It was while I was in my articles, and all we heard was
+a vague report. You ought not to have gone away. You should have stayed
+to fight it out.'</p>
+
+<p>'I was right to give up my berth after what the chief said. How could I
+remain drawing his pay and doing his work, when he had calmly given me
+to understand that the forgery lay between two hands, and that he
+strongly suspected mine?'</p>
+
+<p>'Did Mr. Dering really say so? Did he go so far as that?'</p>
+
+<p>'So I walked out of the place. I should have stayed at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> home and waited
+for the clearing up of the thing, but for my own people&mdash;who&mdash;well&mdash;you
+know&mdash;&mdash; So I went away in a rage.'</p>
+
+<p>'And have you come back&mdash;as you went&mdash;in a rage?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;you see, that is the kind of fire that keeps alight of its own
+accord.'</p>
+
+<p>'I believe that some sort of a search was made for this Edmund Gray; but
+I do not know how long it lasted or who was employed.'</p>
+
+<p>'Detectives are no good. Perhaps the chief didn't care to press the
+business. Perhaps he learned enough to be satisfied that Checkley was
+the man. Perhaps he was unwilling to lose an old servant. Perhaps the
+villain confessed the thing. It all comes back to me fresh and clear,
+though for eight long years I have not talked with a soul about it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Tell me,' said George, a little out of sympathy with this dead and
+buried forgery&mdash;'tell me where you have been&mdash;what you have done&mdash;and
+what you are doing now.'</p>
+
+<p>'Presently&mdash;presently,' he replied with impatience. 'I am sure now that
+I was wrong. I should not have left the country. I should have taken a
+lodging openly, and waited and looked on. Yes; that would have been
+better. Then I should have seen that old villain, Checkley, in the dock.
+Perhaps it is not yet too late. Still&mdash;eight years. Who can expect a
+commissionaire to remember a single message after eight years?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;and now tell me,' George asked again, 'what you have been doing.'</p>
+
+<p>'The black-sheep always turns up, doesn't he? You learn at home that he
+has got a berth in the Rocky Mountains; but he jacks it up and goes to
+Melbourne, where he falls on his feet; but gets tired, and moves on to
+New Zealand, and so home again. It's a regular round.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are apparently the black-sheep whose wool is dyed white. There are
+threads of gold in it. You look prosperous.'</p>
+
+<p>'A few years ago I was actually in the possession of money. Then I
+became poor again. After a good many adventures I became a journalist.
+The profession is in America the refuge of the educated unsuccessful,
+and the hope of the uneducated unsuccessful. I am doing as well as
+journalists in America generally do: I am over here as the
+representative of a Francisco paper. And I expect to stay for some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>
+time&mdash;so long as I can be of service to my people. That's all.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;it might be a great deal worse. And won't you come to Pembridge
+Crescent with me?'</p>
+
+<p>'When the cloud is lifted: not before. And&mdash;George&mdash;not a word about me.
+Don't tell&mdash;yet&mdash;even Elsie.'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h3>SOMETHING MORE HAPPENS</h3>
+
+<p>Checkley held the door of the office wide open, and invited Elsie to
+enter. The aspect of the room, solid of furniture, severe in its
+fittings, with its vast table covered with papers, struck her with a
+kind of terror. At the table sat her guardian, austere of countenance.</p>
+
+<p>All the way along she had been imagining a dialogue. He would begin with
+certain words. She would reply, firmly but respectfully, with certain
+other words. He would go on. She would again reply. And so on. Everybody
+knows the consolations of imagination in framing dialogues at times of
+trouble. They never come off. The beginning is never what is expected,
+and the sequel, therefore, has to be changed on the spot. The conditions
+of the interview had not been realised by Elsie. Also the beginning was
+not what she expected. For her guardian, instead of frowning with a brow
+of corrugated iron, and holding up a finger of warning, received her
+more pleasantly than she had imagined it possible for him, bade her sit
+down, and leaned back, looking at her kindly.</p>
+
+<p>'And so,' he said, 'you are twenty-one&mdash;twenty-one&mdash;to-day. I am no
+longer your guardian. You are twenty-one. Everything that is past seems
+to have happened yesterday. So that it is needless to say that you were
+a baby only yesterday.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; I am really twenty-one.'</p>
+
+<p>'I congratulate you. To be twenty-one is, I believe, for a young lady at
+least, a pleasant time of life. For my own part, I have almost forgotten
+the memory of youth. Perhaps I never had the time to be young. Certainly
+I have never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> understood why some men regret their youth so
+passionately. As for your sex, Elsie, I know very little of it except in
+the way of business. In that way, which does not admit of romance, I
+must say that I have sometimes found ladies importunate, tenacious,
+exacting, persistent, and even revengeful.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' said Elsie, with a little winning smile of conciliation. This was
+only a beginning&mdash;a prelude&mdash;before the unpleasantness.</p>
+
+<p>'That, Elsie, is my unfortunate experience of women&mdash;always in the
+way of business, which of course may bring out the worst qualities.
+In society, of which I have little experience, they are
+doubtless&mdash;charming&mdash;charming.' He repeated the word, as if he had found
+an adjective of whose meaning he was not quite clear. 'An old bachelor
+is not expected, at the age of seventy-five, to know much about such a
+subject. The point before us is that you have this day arrived at the
+mature age of twenty-one. That is the first thing, and I congratulate
+you. The first thing.'</p>
+
+<p>'I wonder,' thought Elsie timidly, 'when he will begin upon the next
+thing&mdash;the real thing.'</p>
+
+<p>There lay upon the table before him a paper with notes upon it. He took
+it up, looked at it, and laid it down again. Then he turned to Elsie and
+smiled&mdash;he actually smiled&mdash;he unmistakably smiled. 'At twenty-one,' he
+said, 'some young ladies who are heiresses come into their property&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Those who are heiresses. Unhappily, I am not.'</p>
+
+<p>'Come into their property&mdash;their property. It must be a beautiful thing
+for a girl to come into property, unexpectedly, at twenty-one. For a
+man, a temptation to do nothing and to make no more money. Bad! Bad! But
+for a girl already engaged, a girl who wants money, a girl who is
+engaged&mdash;eh&mdash;to a penniless young solicitor&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie turned crimson. This was the thing she expected.</p>
+
+<p>'Under such circumstances, I say, such a stroke of fortune would be
+providential and wonderful, would it not?'</p>
+
+<p>She blushed and turned pale, and blushed again. She also felt a strong
+disposition to cry&mdash;but repressed that disposition.</p>
+
+<p>'In your case, for instance, such a windfall would be most welcome. Your
+case is rather a singular case. You do not belong to a family which has
+generally disregarded money&mdash;quite the reverse&mdash;you should inherit the
+love of money&mdash;yet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> you propose to throw away what I believe are very
+good prospects, and&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'My only prospect is to marry George Austin.'</p>
+
+<p>'So you think. I have heard from your mother, and I have seen your
+sister Hilda. They object very strongly to the engagement.'</p>
+
+<p>'I know, of course, what they would say.'</p>
+
+<p>'Therefore, I need not repeat it,' replied Mr. Dering drily. 'I learn,
+then, that you are not only engaged to this young gentleman, but that
+you are also proposing to marry upon the small income which he now
+possesses.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;we are prepared to begin the world upon that income.'</p>
+
+<p>'Your mother asked me what chance he had in his profession. In this
+office he can never rise to a considerable salary as managing clerk. If
+he had money, he might buy a partnership. But he has none, and his
+friends have none. And the profession is congested. He may remain all
+his life in a position not much better than he now occupies. The
+prospect, Elsie, is not brilliant.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;we are fully aware of that. And yet&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Allow me, my dear child. You are yourself&mdash;we will say for the
+moment&mdash;without any means of your own.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have nothing.'</p>
+
+<p>'Or any expectations, except from your mother, who is not yet sixty.'</p>
+
+<p>'I could not count upon my mother's death. Besides, she says that, if I
+persist, she will not leave me anything at all.'</p>
+
+<p>'So much I understand from herself. Her present intention is to remove
+your name from her will, in case you go on with this proposed marriage.'</p>
+
+<p>'My mother will do what she pleases with her property,' said Elsie. 'If
+she thinks that I will give way to a threat of this kind, she does not
+know me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do not let us speak of threats. I am laying before you facts. Here they
+are plainly. Young Austin has a very small income: he has very little
+prospect of getting a substantial income: you, so far as you know, have
+nothing; and, also so far as you know, you have no prospect of anything.
+These are the facts, are they not?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;I suppose these are the facts. We shall be quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> poor&mdash;very
+likely, quite poor always.' The tears rose to her eyes. But this was not
+a place for crying.</p>
+
+<p>'I want you to understand these facts very clearly,' Mr. Dering
+insisted. 'Believe me, I do not wish to give you pain.'</p>
+
+<p>'All this,' said Elsie, with the beginnings of the family obstinacy in
+her eyes, 'I clearly understand. I have had them put before me too
+often.'</p>
+
+<p>'I also learn from your sister, Lady Dering, that if you abandon this
+marriage she is ready to do anything for you that she can. Her house,
+her carriage, her servants&mdash;you can command them all, if you please.
+This you know. Have you considered the meaning of what you propose? Can
+you consider it calmly?'</p>
+
+<p>'I believe we have.'</p>
+
+<p>'On the one side poverty&mdash;not what is called a small income. Many people
+live very well on what is called a small income&mdash;but grinding, hard
+poverty, which exacts real privations and burdens you with unexpected
+loads. My dear young lady, you have been brought up to a certain amount
+of plenty and ease, if not to luxury. Do you think you can get along
+without plenty and ease?'</p>
+
+<p>'If George can, I can.'</p>
+
+<p>'Can you become a servant&mdash;cook, housemaid, lady's-maid&mdash;as well as a
+wife&mdash;a nurse as well as a mother?'</p>
+
+<p>'If George is made happier by my becoming anything&mdash;anything, it will
+only make me happier. Mr. Dering, I am sure you wish me well&mdash;you are my
+father's old friend&mdash;you have always advised my mother in her
+troubles&mdash;my brother was articled to you&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash;' She paused,
+remembering that he had not been her brother's best friend.</p>
+
+<p>'I mean the best possible for you. Meantime, you are quite fixed in your
+own mind: you are set upon this thing. That is clear. There is one other
+way of looking at it. You yourself seem chiefly desirous, I think, to
+make the man you love happy. So much the better for him.&mdash;Are you quite
+satisfied that the other party to the agreement, your lover, will remain
+happy while he sees you slaving for him, while he feels his own
+helplessness, and while he gets no relief from the grinding poverty of
+his household&mdash;while&mdash;lastly&mdash;he sees his sons taking their place on a
+lower level, and his daughters taking a place below the rank of
+gentlewoman?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'I reply by another question.&mdash;You have had George in your office as
+articled clerk and managing clerk for eight years. Is he, or is he not,
+steadfast, clear-headed, one who knows his own mind, and one who can be
+trusted in all things?'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps,' said Mr. Dering, inclining his head. 'How does that advance
+him?'</p>
+
+<p>'Then, if you trust him, why should not I trust him? I trust George
+altogether&mdash;altogether. If he does not get on, it will be through no
+fault of his. We shall bear our burden bravely, believe me, Mr. Dering.
+You will not hear him&mdash;or me&mdash;complain. Besides, I am full of hope. Oh!
+it can never be in this country that a man who is a good workman should
+not be able to get on. Then I can paint a little&mdash;not very well,
+perhaps. But I have thought&mdash;you will not laugh at me&mdash;that I might
+paint portraits and get a little money that way.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is quite possible that he may succeed, and that you may increase the
+family income. Everything is possible. But, remember, you are building
+on possibilities, and I on facts. Plans very beautiful and easy at the
+outset often prove most difficult in the carrying out. My experience of
+marriages is learned by fifty years of work, not imaginative, but
+practical. I have learned that without adequate means no marriage can be
+happy. That is to say, I have never come across any case of wedded
+poverty where the husband or the wife, or both, did not regret the day
+when they faced poverty together instead of separately. That, I say, is
+my experience of such marriages. It is so easy to say that hand in hand
+evils may be met and endured which would be intolerable if one was
+alone. It isn't only hand in hand, Elsie. The hands are wanted for the
+baby, and the evils will fall on the children yet unborn.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie hung her head. Then she replied timidly: 'I have thought even of
+that. It only means that we go lower down in the social scale.'</p>
+
+<p>'Only? Yet that is everything. People who are well up the ladder too
+often deride those who are fighting and struggling to get up higher. It
+is great folly or great ignorance to laugh. Social position, in such a
+country as ours, means independence, self-respect, dignity, all kinds of
+valuable things. You will throw these all away&mdash;yet your grandfathers
+won<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> them for you by hard work. You are yourself a gentlewoman&mdash;why?
+Because they made their way up in the world, and placed their sons also
+in the way to climb. That is how families are made&mdash;by three generations
+at least of steady work uphill.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie shook her head sadly. 'We can only hope,' she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>'One more word, and I will say no more. Remember, that love or no love,
+resignation or not, patience or not, physical comfort is the beginning
+and the foundation of all happiness. If you and your husband can satisfy
+the demands of physical comfort, you may be happy&mdash;or at least resigned.
+If not&mdash;&mdash; Well, Elsie, that is all. I should not have said so much had
+I not promised your mother and your sister. I am touched, I confess, by
+your courage and your resolution.'</p>
+
+<p>'We mean never to regret, never to look back, and always to work and
+hope,' said Elsie. 'You will remain our friend, Mr. Dering?'</p>
+
+<p>'Surely, surely.&mdash;And now&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Now'&mdash;Elsie rose&mdash;'I will not keep you any longer. You have said what
+you wished to say very kindly, and I thank you.'</p>
+
+<p>'No.&mdash;Sit down again; I haven't done with you yet, child. Sit down
+again. No more about that young villain&mdash;George Austin.' He spoke so
+good-humouredly, that Elsie complied wondering, but no longer afraid.
+'Nothing more about your engagement. Now, listen carefully, because this
+is most important. Three or four years ago a person wrote to me. That
+person informed me that he&mdash;for convenience we will call the person a
+man&mdash;wished to place a certain sum of money in my hands in trust&mdash;for
+you.'</p>
+
+<p>'For me? Do you mean&mdash;in trust? What is Trust?'</p>
+
+<p>'He gave me this sum of money to be given to you on your twenty-first
+birthday.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' Elsie sat up with open eyes. 'A sum of money?&mdash;and to me?'</p>
+
+<p>'With a condition or two. The first condition was, that the interest
+should be invested as it came in: the next, that I was on no
+account&mdash;mind, on no account at all&mdash;to tell you or any one of the
+existence of the gift or the name of the donor. You are now twenty-one.
+I have been careful not to afford you the least suspicion of this happy
+windfall until the time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> should arrive. Neither your mother, nor your
+sister, nor your lover, knows or suspects anything about it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' Elsie said once more. An interjection may be defined as a
+prolonged monosyllable, generally a vowel, uttered when no words can do
+justice to the subject.</p>
+
+<p>'And here, my dear young lady'&mdash;Elsie cried 'Oh!' once more because&mdash;the
+most curious thing in the world&mdash;Mr. Dering's grave face suddenly
+relaxed and the lines assumed the very benevolence which she had the day
+before imparted to his portrait, and wished to see upon his
+face!&mdash;'Here, my dear young lady'&mdash;he laid his hand upon a paper&mdash;'is
+the list of the investments which I have made of that money. You have,
+in fact, money in Corporation bonds&mdash;Newcastle, Nottingham,
+Wolverhampton. You have water shares&mdash;you have gas shares&mdash;all good
+investments, yielding at the price of purchase an average of nearly
+three and two-thirds per cent.'</p>
+
+<p>'Investments? Why&mdash;how much money was it, then? I was thinking when you
+spoke of a sum of money, of ten pounds, perhaps.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, Elsie, not ten pounds. The money placed in my hands for your use
+was over twelve thousand pounds. With accumulations, there is now a
+little under thirteen thousand.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' cried Elsie for the third time and for the same reason. No words
+could express her astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; it will produce about four hundred and eighty pounds a year.
+Perhaps, as some of the stock has gone up, it might be sold out and
+placed to better advantage. We may get it up to five hundred pounds.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you mean, Mr. Dering, that I have actually got five hundred pounds a
+year&mdash;all my own?'</p>
+
+<p>'That is certainly my meaning. You have nearly five hundred pounds a
+year all your own&mdash;entirely your own, without any conditions
+whatever&mdash;your own.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' She sat in silence, her hands locked. Then the tears came into her
+eyes. 'Oh, George!' she murmured, 'you will not be so very poor after
+all.'</p>
+
+<p>'That is all I have to say to you at present, Elsie,' said Mr. Dering.
+'Now you may run away and leave me. Come to dinner this evening. Your
+mother and your sister are coming. I shall ask Austin as well. We may
+perhaps remove some of those objections. Dinner at seven sharp,
+Elsie.&mdash;And now you can leave me.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'I said last night,' said Elsie, clasping her hands with feminine
+superstition, 'that something was going to happen. But I thought it was
+something horrid. Oh, Mr. Dering, if you only knew how happy you have
+made me! I don't know what to say. I feel stunned. Five hundred pounds a
+year! Oh! it is wonderful! What shall I say? What shall I say?'</p>
+
+<p>'You will say nothing. Go away now. Come to dinner this evening.&mdash;Go
+away, my young heiress. Go and make plans how to live on your enlarged
+income. It will not prove too much.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie rose. Then she turned again. 'Oh, I had actually forgotten. Won't
+you tell the man&mdash;or the woman&mdash;who gave you that money for me, that I
+thank him from my very heart? It isn't that I think so much about money,
+but oh! the dreadful trouble that there has been at home because George
+has none&mdash;and this will do something to reconcile my mother. Don't you
+think it will make all the difference?'</p>
+
+<p>'I hope that before the evening you will find that all opposition has
+been removed,' said her guardian cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>She walked away in a dream. She found herself in Lincoln's Inn Fields:
+she walked all round that great square, also in a dream. The spectre of
+poverty had vanished. She was rich: she was rich: she had five hundred
+pounds a year. Between them they would have seven hundred pounds a year.
+It seemed enormous. Seven hundred pounds a year! Seven&mdash;seven&mdash;seven
+hundred pounds a year!</p>
+
+<p>She got out into the street called Holborn, and she took the modest
+omnibus, this heiress of untold wealth. How much was it? Thirteen
+millions? or thirteen thousand? One seemed as much as the other. Twelve
+thousand: with accumulations: with accumulations&mdash;ations&mdash;ations. The
+wheels of the vehicle groaned out these musical words all the way. It
+was in the morning when the Bayswater omnibus is full of girls going
+home to lunch after shopping or looking at the shops. Elsie looked at
+these girls as they sat along the narrow benches. 'My dears,' she longed
+to say, but did not, 'I hope you have every one got a brave lover, and
+that you have all got twelve thousand pounds apiece&mdash;with
+accumulations&mdash;twelve thousand pounds&mdash;with
+accumulations&mdash;ations&mdash;ations&mdash;realising four hundred and eighty pounds
+a year,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> and perhaps a little more. With accumulations&mdash;ations&mdash;ations&mdash;
+accumulations.'</p>
+
+<p>She ran into the house and up the stairs singing. At the sound of her
+voice her mother, engaged in calculations of the greatest difficulty,
+paused wondering. When she understood that it was the voice of her child
+and not an organ-grinder, she became angry. What right had the girl to
+run about singing? Was it insolent bravado?</p>
+
+<p>Elsie opened the door of the drawing-room and ran in. Her mother's cold
+face repelled her. She was going to tell the joyful news&mdash;but she
+stopped.</p>
+
+<p>'You have seen Mr. Dering?' asked her mother.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; I have seen him.'</p>
+
+<p>'If he has brought you to reason&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! He has&mdash;he has. I am entirely reasonable.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Arundel was astonished. The girl was flushed of face and bright of
+eye; her breath was thick; her lips were parted. She looked entirely
+happy.</p>
+
+<p>'My dear mother,' she went on, 'I am to dine with him to-night. Hilda is
+to dine with him to-night. You are to dine with him to-night. It is to
+be a family party. He will bring us all to reason&mdash;to a bag full of
+reasons.'</p>
+
+<p>'Elsie, this seems to me to be mirth misplaced.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no&mdash;in its right place&mdash;reasons all in a row and on three shelves,
+labelled and arranged and classified.'</p>
+
+<p>'You talk in enigmas.'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear mother'&mdash;yet that morning the dear mother would not speak to
+the dear daughter&mdash;'I talk in enigmas and I sing in conundrums. I feel
+like an oracle or a Delphic old woman for dark sayings.'</p>
+
+<p>She ran away, slamming the door after her. Her mother heard her singing
+in her studio all to herself. 'Can she be in her right mind?' she asked
+anxiously. 'To marry a Pauper&mdash;to receive the admonition of her
+guardian&mdash;and such a guardian&mdash;and to come home singing. 'Twould be
+better to lock her up than let her marry.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h3>SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENS</h3>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering lay back in his chair, gazing at the door&mdash;the unromantic
+office door&mdash;through which Elsie had just passed. I suppose that even
+the driest of old bachelors and lawyers may be touched by the sight of a
+young girl made suddenly and unexpectedly happy. Perhaps the mere
+apparition of a lovely girl, dainty and delicate and sweet, daintily and
+delicately apparelled, so as to look like a goddess or a wood-nymph
+rather than a creature of clay, may have awakened old and long-forgotten
+thoughts before the instincts of youth were stifled by piles of
+parchment. It is the peculiar and undisputed privilege of the historian
+to read thoughts, but it is not always necessary to write them down.</p>
+
+<p>He sat up and sighed. 'I have not told her all,' he murmured. 'She shall
+be happier still.' He touched his hand-bell. 'Checkley,' he said, 'ask
+Mr. Austin kindly to step this way.&mdash;A day of surprise&mdash;of joyful
+surprise&mdash;for both.'</p>
+
+<p>It was indeed to be a day of good fortune, as you shall see.</p>
+
+<p>He opened a drawer and took out a document rolled and tied, which he
+laid upon the table before him.</p>
+
+<p>George obeyed the summons, not without misgiving, for Elsie, he knew,
+must by this time have had the dreaded interview, and the call might
+have some reference to his own share in the great contumacy. To incur
+the displeasure of his employer in connection with that event might lead
+to serious consequences.</p>
+
+<p>Astonishing thing! Mr. Dering received him with a countenance that
+seemed transformed. He smiled benevolently upon him. He even laughed. He
+smiled when George opened the door: he laughed when, in obedience to a
+gesture of invitation, George took a chair. He actually laughed: not
+weakly or foolishly, but as a strong man laughs.</p>
+
+<p>'I want ten minutes with you, George Austin'&mdash;he actually used the
+Christian name&mdash;'ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, or perhaps half an
+hour.' He laughed again. 'Now,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> then'&mdash;his face assumed its usual
+judicial expression, but his lips broke into unaccustomed smiles&mdash;'Now
+then, sir, I have just seen my ward&mdash;my former ward, for she is now of
+age&mdash;and have heard&mdash;well&mdash;everything there was to hear.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have no doubt, sir, that what you heard from Elsie was the exact
+truth.'</p>
+
+<p>'I believe so. The questions which I put to her I also put to you. How
+do you propose to live? On your salary? You have been engaged to my late
+ward without asking the permission of her guardians&mdash;that is, her mother
+and myself.'</p>
+
+<p>'That is not quite the case. We found that her mother opposed the
+engagement, and therefore it was not necessary to ask your permission.
+We agreed to let the matter rest until she should be of age. Meanwhile,
+we openly corresponded and saw each other.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is a distinction without a difference. Perhaps what you would call a
+legal distinction. You now propose to marry. Elsie Arundel is no longer
+my ward; but, as a friend, I venture to ask you how you propose to live?
+A wife and a house cost money. Shall you keep house and wife on your
+salary alone? Have you any other resources?'</p>
+
+<p>There are several ways of putting these awkward questions. There is
+especially the way of accusation, by which you charge the guilty young
+man of being by his own fault one of a very huge family&mdash;of having no
+money and no expectations&mdash;nothing at all, unless he can make it for
+himself. It is the manner generally adopted by parents and guardians.
+Mr. Dering, however, when he put the question smiled genially and rubbed
+his hands&mdash;a thing so unusual as to be terrifying in itself&mdash;as if he
+was uttering a joke&mdash;a thing he never had done in his life. The
+question, however, even when put in this, the kindest way, is one most
+awkward for any young man, and especially to a young man in either
+branch of the law, and most especially to a young man beginning the
+ascent of the lower branch.</p>
+
+<p>Consider, of all the professions, crowded as they are, there is none so
+crowded as this branch of the law. 'What,' asks anxious Quiverful P&egrave;re,
+'shall I do with this boy of mine? I will spend a thousand pounds upon
+him and make him a solicitor. Once he has passed, the way is clear for
+him.' 'How,' asks the ambitious man of trade, 'shall I advance my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> son?
+I will make him a lawyer; once passed he will open an office and get a
+practice and become rich. He will be a gentleman. And his children will
+be born gentlemen.' Very good; a most laudable custom it is in this
+realm of Great Britain for the young men still to be pressing upwards,
+though those who are already high up would fain forget the days of
+climbing and sneer at those who are making their way. But, applied to
+this profession, climbing seems no longer practicable. This way of
+advance will have to be abandoned.</p>
+
+<p>Consider, again. Every profession gets rich out of its own mine. There
+is the mine Ecclesiastic, the mine Medical, the mine Artistic, the mine
+Legal. The last-named contains leases, covenants, agreements, wills,
+bonds, mortgages, actions, partnerships, transfers, conveyances, county
+courts, and other treasures, all to be had for the digging. But&mdash;and
+this is too often forgotten&mdash;there is only a limited quantity to be
+taken out of the mine every year, and there is not enough to go round,
+except in very minute portions. And since, until we become socialists at
+heart, we shall all of us continue to desire for our share that which is
+called the mess of Benjamin, and since all cannot get that mess&mdash;which
+Mr. Dering had enjoyed for the whole of his life&mdash;or anything like that
+desirable portion, most young solicitors go in great heaviness of
+spirit&mdash;hang their heads, corrugate their foreheads, write despairing
+letters to the girls they left behind them, and with grumbling gratitude
+take the hundred or two hundred a year which is offered for their
+services as managing clerks. Again, the Legal mine seems of late years
+not to yield anything like so much as formerly. There has been a cruel
+shrinkage all over the country, and especially in country towns: the
+boom of building seems to have come to an end: the agricultural
+depression has dragged down with it an immense number of people who
+formerly flourished with the lawyers, and, by means of their savings,
+investments, leases, and partnerships and quarrels, made many a
+solicitor fat and happy. That is all gone. It used to be easy, if one
+had a little money, to buy a partnership. Now it is no longer possible,
+or, at least, no longer easy. Nobody has a business greater than he
+himself can manage; everybody has got a son coming in.</p>
+
+<p>These considerations show why the question was difficult to answer.</p>
+
+<p>Said George in reply, but with some confusion: 'We are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> prepared to live
+on little. We are not in the least extravagant: Elsie will rough it.
+Besides, she has her Art&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Out of which she makes at present nothing a year.'</p>
+
+<p>'But she will get on&mdash;and I may hope, may reasonably hope, some time to
+make an income larger than my present one.'</p>
+
+<p>'You may hope&mdash;you may hope. But the position is not hopeful. In fact,
+George Austin, you must marry on ten times your present income, or not
+at all.'</p>
+
+<p>'But I assure you, sir, our ideas are truly modest, and we have made up
+our minds how we can live and pay our way.'</p>
+
+<p>'You think you have. That is to say, you have prepared a table of
+expenses showing how, with twopence to spare, you can live very well on
+two hundred pounds a year. Of course you put down nothing for the
+thousand and one little unexpected things which everybody of your
+education and habits pays for every day.'</p>
+
+<p>'We have provided as far as we can see.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, it won't do. Of course, I can't forbid the girl to marry you. She
+is of age. I can't forbid you&mdash;but I can make it impossible&mdash;impossible
+for you, Master Austin&mdash;impossible.'</p>
+
+<p>He rapped the table. The words were stern, but the voice was kindly, and
+he smiled again as he spoke. 'You thought you would do without me, did
+you? Well&mdash;you shall see&mdash;you shall see.'</p>
+
+<p>George received this threat without words, but with a red face, and with
+rising indignation. Still, when one is a servant, one must endure the
+reproofs of the master. He said nothing therefore, but waited.</p>
+
+<p>'I have considered for some time,' Mr. Dering continued, 'how to meet
+this case in a satisfactory manner. At last, I made up my mind. And if
+you will read this document, young gentleman, you will find that I have
+made your foolish proposal to marry on love and nothing else quite
+impossible&mdash;quite impossible, sir.' He slapped the table with the paper,
+and tossed it over to George.</p>
+
+<p>George took the paper, and began to read it. Suddenly he jumped out of
+his chair. He sprang to his feet. '<i>What?</i>' he cried.</p>
+
+<p>'Go on&mdash;go on,' said Mr. Dering benevolently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Partnership? Partnership?' George gasped. 'What does it mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'It is, as you say, a Deed of Partnership between myself and yourself.
+The conditions of the Partnership are duly set forth&mdash;I hope you will
+see your way to accepting them.&mdash;A Deed of Partnership. I do not know
+within a few hundreds what your share may be, but I believe you may
+reckon on at least two thousand for the first year, and more&mdash;much
+more&mdash;before long.'</p>
+
+<p>'More than a thousand?'</p>
+
+<p>'You have not read the deed through. Call yourself a lawyer? Sit down,
+and read it word for word.'</p>
+
+<p>George obeyed, reading it as if it was a paper submitted to him for
+consideration, a paper belonging to some one else.</p>
+
+<p>'Well? You have read it?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; I have read it through.'</p>
+
+<p>'Observe that the Partnership may be dissolved by Death, Bankruptcy, or
+Mutual Consent. I receive two-thirds of the proceeds for life.
+That&mdash;alas!&mdash;will not be for long.&mdash;Well, young man, do you accept this
+offer?'</p>
+
+<p>'Accept? Oh! Accept? What can I do? What can I say&mdash;but accept?' He
+walked to the window, and looked out; I suppose he was admiring the
+trees in the square, which were certainly very beautiful in early July.
+Then he returned, his eyes humid.</p>
+
+<p>'Aha!' Mr. Dering chuckled. 'I told you that I would make it impossible
+for you to marry on two hundred pounds a year. I waited till Elsie's
+birthday. Well? You will now be able to revise that little estimate of
+living on two hundred a year. Eh?'</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Dering,' said George, with breaking voice, 'I cannot believe it; I
+cannot understand it. I have not deserved it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Shake hands, my Partner.'</p>
+
+<p>The two men shook hands.</p>
+
+<p>'Now sit down and let us talk a bit,' said Mr. Dering. 'I am old. I am
+past seventy. I have tried to persuade myself that I am still as fit for
+work as ever. But I have had warnings. I now perceive that they must be
+taken as warnings. Sometimes it is a little confusion of memory&mdash;I am
+not able to account for little things&mdash;I forget what I did yesterday
+afternoon. I suppose all old men get these reminders of coming decay. It
+means that I must reduce work and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> responsibility. I might give up
+business altogether and retire: I have money enough and to spare: but
+this is the third generation of a successful House, and I could not bear
+to close the doors, and to think that the Firm would altogether vanish.
+So I thought I would take a partner, and I began to look about me.
+Well&mdash;in brief, I came to the conclusion that I should find no young man
+better qualified than yourself for ability and for power of work and for
+all the qualities necessary for the successful conduct of such a House
+as this. Especially I considered the essential of good manners. I was
+early taught by my father that the greatest aid to success is good
+breeding. I trust that in this respect I have done justice to the
+teaching of one who was the most courtly of his time. You belong to an
+age of less ceremony and less respect to rank. But we are not always in
+a barrack or in a club. We are not all comrades or equals. There are
+those below to consider as well as those above. There are women: there
+are old men: you, my partner, have shown me that you can give to each
+the consideration, the deference, the recognition that he deserves. True
+breeding is the recognition of the individual. You are careful of the
+small things which smooth the asperities of business. In no profession,
+not even that of medicine, is a good manner more useful than in ours.
+And this you possess.&mdash;It also pleases me,' he added after a pause, 'to
+think that in making you my partner I am also promoting the happiness of
+a young lady I have known all her life.'</p>
+
+<p>George murmured something. He looked more like a guilty schoolboy than a
+man just raised to a position most enviable. His cheeks were flushed and
+his hands trembled. Mr. Dering touched his bell.</p>
+
+<p>'Checkley,' he said, when that faithful retainer appeared, 'I have
+already told you of my intention to take a partner. This is my new
+partner.'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley changed colour. His old eyes&mdash;or was George wrong?&mdash;flashed
+with a light of malignity as he raised them. It made him feel
+uncomfortable&mdash;but only for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>'My partner, Checkley,' repeated Mr. Dering.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' His voice was dry and grating. 'Since we couldn't go on as
+before&mdash;&mdash; Well, I hope you won't repent it.'</p>
+
+<p>'You shall witness the signing of the deed, Checkley.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> Call in a clerk.
+So&mdash;there we have it, drawn, signed, and witnessed. Once more, my
+partner, shake hands.'</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Elsie retired to her own room after the snub administered to her rising
+spirits. She soon began to sing again, being much too happy to be
+affected by anything so small. She went on with her portrait, preserving
+some, but not all, of the softness and benevolence which she had put
+into it, and thereby producing what is allowed to be an excellent
+portrait, but somewhat flattering. She herself knows very well that it
+is not flattering at all, but even lower than the truth, only the other
+people have never seen the lawyer in an expansive moment.</p>
+
+<p>Now while she was thus engaged, her mind going back every other minute
+to her newly-acquired inheritance, a cab drove up to the house&mdash;the door
+flew open, and her lover&mdash;her George&mdash;flew into her arms.</p>
+
+<p>'You here&mdash;George? Actually in the house? Oh! but you know&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I know&mdash;I know. But I could not possibly wait till this evening. My
+dear child, the most wonderful&mdash;the most wonderful thing&mdash;the most
+extraordinary thing&mdash;in the whole world has happened&mdash;a thing we could
+never hope and never ask&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Dering has told you, then?'</p>
+
+<p>'What? Do you know?'</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Dering told me this morning.&mdash;Oh, George! isn't it wonderful?'</p>
+
+<p>'Wonderful? It is like the last chapter of a novel!' This he said
+speaking as a fool, because the only last chapter in life is that in
+which Azrael crosses the threshold.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, George!&mdash;I have been walking in the air&mdash;I have been flying&mdash;I have
+been singing and dancing. I feel as if I had never before known what it
+was to be happy. Mr. Dering said something about having it
+settled&mdash;mind&mdash;it's all yours, George&mdash;yours as well as mine.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' said George, a little puzzled. 'I suppose in the eyes of the law
+it is mine, but then it is yours as well. All that is mine is yours.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Mr. Dering said it was mine in the eyes of the law. What does it
+matter, George, what the stupid old law says?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Nothing, my dear&mdash;nothing at all.'</p>
+
+<p>'It will be worth five hundred pounds a year very nearly. That, with
+your two hundred pounds a year, will make us actually comfortable after
+all our anxieties.'</p>
+
+<p>'Five hundred a year? It will be worth four times that, I hope.'</p>
+
+<p>'Four times? Oh, no!&mdash;that is impossible. But Mr. Dering told me that he
+could hardly get so much as four per cent., and I have made a sum and
+worked it out. Rule for simple interest: multiply the principal by the
+rate per cent., and again by the time, and divide by a hundred. It is
+quite simple. And what makes the sum simpler, you need only take one
+year.'</p>
+
+<p>'What principal, Elsie, by what interest? You are running your little
+head against rules of arithmetic. Here there is no principal and no
+interest. It is a case of proceeds, and then division.'</p>
+
+<p>'We will call it proceeds, if you like, George, but he called it
+interest. Anyhow, it comes to five hundred a year, very nearly; and with
+your two hundred&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know what you mean by your five hundred a year. As for my two
+hundred, unless I am very much mistaken, that will very soon be two
+thousand.'</p>
+
+<p>'Your two hundred will become&mdash;&mdash;? George, we are talking across each
+other.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes. What money of yours do you mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'I mean the twelve thousand pounds that Mr. Dering holds for me&mdash;with
+accumulations&mdash;accumulations'&mdash;she began to sing the rhyme of the
+omnibus wheels&mdash;'accumulations&mdash;ations&mdash;ations.'</p>
+
+<p>'Twelve thousand pounds? Is this fairyland? Twelve thousand&mdash;&mdash;? I
+reel&mdash;I faint&mdash;I sink&mdash;I melt away. Take my hands&mdash;both my hands,
+Elsie&mdash;kiss me kindly&mdash;it's better than brandy&mdash;kindly kiss me. Twelve
+thousand pounds! with accumulations&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'&mdash;ations&mdash;ations&mdash;ations,' she sung. 'Never before, George, have I
+understood the loveliness and the power of money. They were given to Mr.
+Dering by an anonymous person to be held for me&mdash;secretly. No one
+knows&mdash;not even, yet, my mother.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! It is altogether too much&mdash;too much: once there was a poor but
+loving couple, and Fortune turned her wheel,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> and&mdash;&mdash; You don't
+know&mdash;you most unsuspecting ignorant Thing&mdash;you can't guess&mdash; Oh, Elsie,
+I am a partner&mdash;Mr. Dering's partner!</p>
+
+<p>They caught hands again&mdash;then they let go&mdash;then they sat down, and gazed
+upon each other.</p>
+
+<p>'Elsie,' said George.</p>
+
+<p>'George,' said Elsie.</p>
+
+<p>'We can now marry like everybody else&mdash;but much better. We shall have
+furniture now.'</p>
+
+<p>'All the furniture we shall want, and a house where we please. No
+contriving now&mdash;no pinching.'</p>
+
+<p>'No self-denying for each other, my dear.'</p>
+
+<p>'That's a pity, isn't it?&mdash;But, George, don't repine. The advantages may
+counterbalance the drawbacks. I think I see the cottage where we were
+going to live. It is in Islington: or near it&mdash;Barnsbury, perhaps: there
+is a little garden in front, and one at the back. There is always
+washing hung out to dry. I don't like the smell of suds. For dinner, one
+has cold Australian tinned meat for economy, not for choice. The rooms
+are very small, and the furniture is shabby, because it was cheap and
+bad to begin with. And when you come home&mdash;oh, George!'&mdash;she stuck her
+forefinger in her chalk, and drew two or three lines on his face&mdash;'you
+look like that, so discontented, so grumpy, so gloomy. Oh, my dear, the
+advantages&mdash;they do so greatly outbalance the drawbacks; and George&mdash;you
+will love your wife all the more&mdash;I am sure you will&mdash;because she can
+always dress properly and look nice, and give you a dinner that will
+help to rest you from the work of the day.'</p>
+
+<p>Once more this foolish couple fell into each other's arms and kissed
+again with tears and smiles and laughter.</p>
+
+<p>'Who,' asked Mrs. Arundel, ringing the bell up-stairs, 'who is with Miss
+Elsie below?'</p>
+
+<p>On hearing that it was Mr. George Austin, whose presence in the house
+was forbidden, Mrs. Arundel rose solemnly and awfully, and walked down
+the stairs. She had a clear duty before her. When she threw open the
+door, the lovers were hand in hand dancing round the room laughing&mdash;but
+the tears were running down Elsie's cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>'Elsie,' said her mother, standing at the open door, 'perhaps you can
+explain this.'</p>
+
+<p>'Permit me to explain,' said George.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'This gentleman, Elsie, has been forbidden the house.'</p>
+
+<p>'One moment,' he began.</p>
+
+<p>'Go, sir.' She pointed majestically to the window.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' cried Elsie. 'Tell her, George&mdash;tell her; I cannot.' She fell to
+laughing and crying together, but still held her lover by the hand.</p>
+
+<p>'I will have no communication whatever with one who robs me of a
+daughter,' said this Roman matron. 'Will you once more leave the house,
+sir?'</p>
+
+<p>'Mother&mdash;you <i>must</i> hear him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing,' said Mrs. Arundel, 'will ever induce me to speak to
+him&mdash;nothing.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mother, don't be silly,' Elsie cried; 'you don't know what has
+happened. You <i>must</i> not say such things. You will only be sorry for
+them afterwards.'</p>
+
+<p>'Never&mdash;never. One may forgive such a man, but one can never speak to
+him, never&mdash;whatever happens&mdash;never.' The lady looked almost heroic as
+she waved her right hand in the direction of the man.</p>
+
+<p>'I will go,' said George, 'but not till you have heard me. I am
+rich&mdash;Elsie is rich&mdash;we shall not marry into poverty. The whole
+situation is entirely changed.'</p>
+
+<p>'Changed,' Elsie repeated, taking George's arm.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>'My dear George,' said Mrs. Arundel, when she had heard the whole
+story&mdash;and by cross examination persuaded herself that it was true&mdash;'you
+know on what a just basis my objections were founded. Otherwise, I
+should have been delighted at the outset.&mdash;Kiss me, Elsie.&mdash;You have my
+full consent, children. These remarkable events are Providential.&mdash;On
+Mr. Dering's death or retirement, you will step into an enormous
+practice. Follow his example. Take no partner till old age compels you.
+Keep all the profits for yourself&mdash;all.&mdash;My dear George, you should be a
+very happy man. Not so rich, perhaps, as my son-in-law, Sir Samuel, but
+above the ordinary run of common happiness. As for the past&mdash;&mdash; We will
+now go down to lunch.&mdash;There is the bell. These emotions are
+fatiguing.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h3>IN HONOUR OF THE EVENT</h3>
+
+<p>May one dwell upon so simple a thing as a small family dinner-party? It
+is generally undramatic and uneventful: it is not generally marked even
+by a new dish or a bottle of rare wine. Yet there lingers in the mind of
+every man the recollection of pleasant dinners. I should like to write a
+Book of Dinners&mdash;not a book for the <i>gourmet</i>, but a book of memories.
+It might be a most delightful volume. There would be in it the
+school-boys' dinner. I remember a certain dinner at eighteenpence a
+head, at Richmond, before we had the row in the boat, when we quarrelled
+and broke the oars over each other's heads, and very nearly capsized: a
+certain undergraduates' dinner, in which four men&mdash;three of whom are now
+ghosts&mdash;joined: the Ramblers' dinner, of lamb chops and bottled ale and
+mirth and merriment: the two-by-two dinner in the private room, a dainty
+dinner of sweet lamb, sweet bread, sweet peas, sweet looks, sweet
+Moselle, and sweet words. Is it really true that one never&mdash;never&mdash;gets
+young again? Some people do, I am sure, but they are under promise to
+say nothing about it. I shall&mdash;and then that dinner may perhaps&mdash;one
+cannot say&mdash;one never knows&mdash;and I suppose&mdash;if one was young again&mdash;that
+they would be found just as pretty as they ever were. There is the
+official dinner, stately and cold: the city dinner, which generally
+comes to a man when his digestion is no longer what it was: the family
+dinner, in which the intellect plays so small a part, because no one
+wastes his fine things on his brothers and sisters: the dinner at which
+one has to make a speech. Indeed, this Book of Dinners promises to be a
+most charming volume. I should attempt it, however, with trembling,
+because, to do it really well, one should be, first of all, a scholar,
+if only to appreciate things said and spoken, and in order to connect
+the illustrious past with food and drink. Next, he ought to be still
+young: he certainly must have a proper feeling for wine, and must
+certainly understand when and why one should be grateful to good Master
+Cook: he should be a past or present master in the Art of Love and a
+squire of Dames: he should be good at conversation: he must,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> in the old
+language, be a worshipper of Bacchus, Venus, Ph&oelig;bus Apollo, the Muses
+nine and the Graces three. He must be no poor weakling, unable to enjoy
+the good creatures of flesh, fowl, fish, and wine: no boor: and no log
+insensible to loveliness.</p>
+
+<p>Dinner, which should be a science, has long been treated as one of the
+Fine Arts. Now every Fine Art, as we all know, has its fashions and its
+caprices. Those who are old enough to remember the dinners of twenty,
+thirty, or forty years ago can remember many of their fashions and
+caprices. In the Thirties, for instance, everything was carved upon the
+table. It required a man with a strong wrist to give a dinner-party.
+Fortunately, a dinner then consisted of few dishes. They drank sherry
+with dinner, and port afterwards. The champagne, if there was any, was
+sweet. The guests were bidden for half-past six: they sat down to dinner
+before seven. At eight the ladies went up-stairs: at half-past ten the
+men joined them. Their faces were flushed, their shoulders were inclined
+to lurch, and their speech was the least bit thick. Wonderful to relate,
+brandy-and-water used to be served to these topers in the drawing-room
+itself.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering had altered little in his dinner customs. They mostly
+belonged to the Sixties, with a survival of some belonging to the
+Thirties. Things were carved upon the sideboard: this was in deference
+to modern custom: champagne formed an integral part of the meal: but the
+dinner itself was solid: the cloth after dinner was removed, leaving the
+dark polished mahogany after the old fashion: the furniture of the room
+was also in the old style: the chairs were heavy and solid: the walls
+were hung with a dark crimson paper of velvety texture: the curtains and
+the carpets were red: there were pictures of game and fruit: the
+sideboard was as solid as the table.</p>
+
+<p>Checkley the clerk, who was invited as a faithful servant of the House,
+to the celebration of the new partnership, was the first to arrive.
+Dressed in a hired suit, he looked like an undertaker's assistant: the
+gloom upon his face heightened the resemblance. Why the partnership
+caused this appearance of gloom, I know not. Certainly, he could never
+expect to be made a partner himself. It was perhaps a species of
+jealousy which filled his soul. He would no longer know so much of the
+business.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>George came with the Mother-in-law Elect and the <i>fianc&eacute;e</i>. Forgiveness,
+Peace, Amnesty, and Charity sat all together upon the brow of the elder
+lady. She was magnificent in a dark crimson velvet, and she had a good
+deal of gold about her arms and neck. Jewish ladies are said to show, by
+the magnificence of their attire, the prosperity of the business. Why
+not? It is a form of enjoying success. There are many forms: one man
+buys books: let him buy books. Another collects pictures. Why not? One
+woman wears crimson velvet. Why not? In this way she enjoys her wealth
+and proclaims it. Again, why not? It seems to the philosopher a fond and
+vain thing to deck the person at all times, and especially fond when the
+person is middle-aged and no longer beautiful. We are not all
+philosophers. There are many middle-aged men who are extremely happy to
+put on their uniform and their medals and their glittering helmets. Mrs.
+Arundel wore her velvet as if she enjoyed the colour of it, the richness
+of it, the light and shade that lay in its folds, and the soft feel of
+it. She wore it, too, as an outward sign that this was a great occasion.
+Her daughter, Lady Dering, came also arrayed in a queenly dress of amber
+silk with an aigrette of feathers in her hair. To be sure, she was going
+on somewhere after the dinner. Elsie, for her part, came in a creamy
+white almost like a bride: but she looked much happier than most brides.
+Hilda's husband, Sir Samuel, who was some six or seven years younger
+than his brother, was in appearance a typical man of wealth. The rich
+man can no longer, as in the days of good old Sir Thomas Gresham,
+illustrate his riches by costly furs, embroidered doublets, and heavy
+chains. He has to wear broadcloth and black. Yet there is an air, a
+carriage, which belongs to the rich man. In appearance, Sir Samuel was
+tall, like his brother, but not thin like him: he was corpulent: his
+face was red: he was bald, and he wore large whiskers, dyed black.
+The late dissensions were completely forgotten. Hilda embraced her
+sister fondly. 'My dear,' she whispered, 'we have heard all.
+Everything&mdash;everything is changed by these fortunate events. They do you
+the greatest credit.&mdash;George'&mdash;she took his hand and held it
+tenderly&mdash;'I cannot tell you how happy this news has made us all. You
+will be rich in the course of years. Sir Samuel was only saying, as we
+came along&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I was saying, young gentleman,' the Knight interrupted,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> 'that the most
+beautiful thing about money is the way it develops character. We do not
+ask for many virtues&mdash;only honesty and diligence&mdash;from the poor. When a
+man acquires wealth we look for his better qualities.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, indeed,' Hilda murmured. 'His better qualities begin to
+show.&mdash;Elsie, dear, that is a very pretty frock. I don't think I have
+seen it before. How do you like my dress?'</p>
+
+<p>George accepted this sudden turn in opinion with smiles. He laughed at
+it afterwards. For the moment it made him feel almost as if he was being
+rewarded for some virtuous action.</p>
+
+<p>Dinner was announced at seven&mdash;such were the old-fashioned manners of
+this old gentleman. He led in Mrs. Arundel, and placed Elsie on his
+left. At first, the dinner promised to be a silent feast. The two lovers
+were not disposed to talk much&mdash;they had not yet recovered from the
+overwhelming and astonishing events of the day. Sir Samuel never talked
+at the beginning of dinner&mdash;besides, there was turtle soup and red
+mullet and whitebait&mdash;it is sinful to divert your attention from these
+good creatures. His wife never talked at dinner or at any other time
+more than she could help. Your statuesque beauty seldom does. Talking
+much involves smiling and even laughing, which distorts the face. A
+woman must encourage men to talk: this she can do without saying much
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Mr. Dering roused himself and began to talk, with a visible
+effort, first to Mrs. Arundel of things casual: then to Elsie: and then
+to his brother, but always with an effort, as if he was thinking of
+other things. And a constraint fell upon the party.</p>
+
+<p>When the cloth was removed and the wine and fruit placed upon the dark
+and lustrous board, he filled a glass and made a kind little speech.</p>
+
+<p>'My Partner,'he said, 'I drink to you. May your connection with the
+House be prosperous! It is a very great good fortune for me to have
+found such a Partner.&mdash;Elsie, I join you with my Partner. I wish you
+both every happiness.'</p>
+
+<p>He drained the bumper and sent round the decanters.</p>
+
+<p>Then he began to talk, and his discourse was most strange. 'Had it
+been,' said his brother afterwards, 'the idle fancies of some
+crackbrained writing fellow, I could have understood it; but from
+him&mdash;from a steady old solicitor&mdash;a man who has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> never countenanced any
+kind of nonsense&mdash;to be sure he said it was only an illusion. I hope it
+isn't a softening. Who ever heard of such a man as that having dreams
+and illusions?'</p>
+
+<p>Certainly no one had ever before heard Mr. Dering talk in this new
+manner. As a rule, he was silent and grave even at the head of his own
+table. He spoke little and then gravely. To-night his talk as well as
+his face was changed. Who would have thought that Mr. Dering should
+confess to illusions, and should relate dreams, and should be visited by
+such dreams? Remember that the speaker was seventy-five years of age,
+and that he had never before been known so much as to speak of
+benevolence. Then you will understand something of the bewilderment
+which fell upon the whole company.</p>
+
+<p>He began by raising his head and smiling with a strange and new
+benignity&mdash;but Elsie thought of her portrait. 'We are all one family
+here,' he said; 'and I may talk. I want to tell you of a very remarkable
+thing that has recently happened to me. It has been growing, I now
+perceive, for some years. But it now holds me strongly, and it is one
+reason why I am anxious to have the affairs of the House in the hands of
+a younger man. For it may be a sign of the end. At seventy-five anything
+uncommon may be a sign.'</p>
+
+<p>'You look well, Mr. Dering, and as strong as most men of sixty,' said
+Mrs. Arundel.</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps. I feel well and strong. The fact is that I am troubled&mdash;or
+pleased&mdash;or possessed&mdash;by an Illusion.'</p>
+
+<p>'You with an Illusion?' said his brother.</p>
+
+<p>'I myself. An Illusion possesses me. It whispers me from time to time
+that my life is wholly spent in promoting the happiness of other
+people.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well,' said his brother, 'since you are a first-class solicitor, and
+manage the affairs of many people very much to their advantage, you
+certainly do promote their happiness.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, yes&mdash;I suppose so. My Illusion further is that it is done outside
+my business&mdash;without any bill afterwards'&mdash;Checkley looked up with eyes
+wide open&mdash;'I am made to believe that I am working and living for the
+good of others. A curious Illusion, is it not?'</p>
+
+<p>The City man shook his head. 'That any man can possibly live for the
+good of others is, I take it, always and under all circumstances an
+Illusion. In the present state of society&mdash;and a very admirable state it
+is'&mdash;he rolled his bald<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> head as he spoke and his voice had a rich roll
+in it&mdash;'a man's first duty&mdash;his second duty&mdash;his third duty&mdash;his
+hundredth duty&mdash;is to himself. In the City it is his business to amass
+wealth&mdash;to roll it up&mdash;roll it up'&mdash;he expressed the words with
+feeling&mdash;'to invest it profitably&mdash;to watch it, and to nurse it as it
+fructifies&mdash;fructifies. Afterwards, when he is rich enough, if ever a
+man can be rich enough, he may exercise as much charity as he
+pleases&mdash;as he pleases. Charity seems to please some people as a glass
+of fine wine'&mdash;he illustrated the comparison&mdash;'pleases the
+palate&mdash;pleases the palate.'</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer listened politely and inclined his head.</p>
+
+<p>'There is at least some method in my Illusion,' he went on. 'You
+mentioned it. The solicitor is always occupied with the conduct of other
+people's affairs. That must be admitted. He is always engaged in
+considering how best to guide his fellow-man through the labyrinthine
+world. He receives his fellow-man at his entrance into the world, as a
+ward: he receives him grown up, as a client: he advises him all his life
+at every step and in every emergency. If the client goes into
+partnership, or marries, or buys a house, or builds one, or gets into
+trouble, the solicitor assists and advises him. When the client grows
+old, the solicitor makes his will. When the client dies, the solicitor
+becomes his executor and his trustee, and administers his estate for
+him. It is thus a life, as I said, entirely spent for other people. I
+know not of any other, unless it be of medicine, that so much can be
+said. And think what terrors, what anxieties, what disappointments, the
+solicitor witnesses and alleviates! Think of the family scandals he
+hushes up and keeps secret! Good heavens! if a solicitor in large
+practice were to tell what he knows, think of the terrible disclosures!
+He knows every thing. He knows more than a Roman Catholic priest,
+because his penitents not only reveal their own sins but also those of
+their wives and sons and friends and partners. And anxiety, I may tell
+you, makes a man better at confessing than penitence. Sometimes we bring
+actions at law and issue writs and so forth. Well now: this part of our
+business, which is disagreeable to us, is actually the most beneficent
+of any. Because, by means of the cases brought before the High Court of
+Justice, we remind the world that it must be law abiding as well as law
+worthy. The Law, in order to win respect, must first win fear. Force
+comes before order. The memory of force must be kept up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> The presence
+of force must be felt. For instance, I have a libel case just begun. It
+is rather a bad libel. My libeller will suffer: he will bleed: but he
+will bleed for the public good, because thousands who are only anxious
+to libel and slander, to calumniate and defame their neighbours, will be
+deterred. Oh! it will be a most beneficent case&mdash;far reaching&mdash;striking
+terror into the hearts of ill-doers.&mdash;Well&mdash;this, my friends, is my
+Illusion. It is, I suppose, one of the many Illusions with which we
+cheat old age and rob it of its terrors. To everybody else I am a
+hard-fisted lawyer, exacting his pound of flesh from the unfortunate
+debtor, and making myself rich at the expense of the creditor.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nonsense about how a man gets rich,' said the man of business. 'He can
+only get rich if he is capable. Quite right. Let the weak go under. Let
+the careless and the lazy starve.'</p>
+
+<p>'At the same time,' said Elsie softly, 'it is not all illusion. There
+are others besides the careless and the lazy&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Sometimes,' the old lawyer went on, 'this Illusion of mine&mdash;oh! I know
+it is only Illusion&mdash;takes the form of a dream&mdash;so vivid that it comes
+back to me afterwards as a reality. In this dream, which is always the
+same, I seem to have been engaged in some great scheme of practical
+benevolence.'</p>
+
+<p>'Practical&mdash;&mdash; What? You engaged in Practical Benevolence?' the City man
+asked in profound astonishment. The Illusion was astonishing enough; but
+to have his brother talk of practical benevolence was amazing indeed.</p>
+
+<p>'Practical benevolence,' repeated Mr. Dering. His voice dropped. His
+eyes looked out into space: he seemed as one who narrates a story. 'It
+is a curiously persistent dream. It comes at irregular intervals; it
+pleases me while it lasts.&mdash;Oh! in the evening after dinner, while one
+takes a nap in the easy chair, perhaps&mdash;it is, as I said, quite vivid.
+The action of this dream always takes place in the same room&mdash;a large
+room, plainly furnished, and looking out upon an open space&mdash;I should
+know it if I saw it&mdash;and it fills me with pleasure&mdash;in my dream&mdash;just to
+feel that I am&mdash;there is no other word for it&mdash;diffusing happiness. How
+I manage this diffusion, I can never remember; but there it is&mdash;good
+solid happiness, such as, in waking moments, one feels to be
+impossible.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Diffusing happiness&mdash;you!' said his brother.</p>
+
+<p>'A very beautiful dream,' said Elsie. But no one dared to look in each
+other's face.</p>
+
+<p>'This strange dream of mine,' continued Mr. Dering, 'does not form part
+of that little Illusion, though it seems connected with it. And as I
+said, mostly it comes in the evening. The other day, however, I had it
+in the afternoon&mdash;went to sleep in my office, I suppose.&mdash;Did you find
+me asleep, Checkley? It was on Friday.'</p>
+
+<p>'No. On Friday afternoon you went out.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah! When I came back, then&mdash; I had forgotten that I went out. Did I go
+out? Strange! Never mind. This continuous dream opens up a world of new
+ideas and things which are, I perceive, when I am awake, quite unreal
+and illusory. Yet they please. I see myself, as I said, diffusing
+happiness with open hands. The world which is thus made happier consists
+entirely of poor people. I move among them unseen: I listen to them: I
+see what they do, and I hear what they say. Mind&mdash;all this is as real
+and true to me as if it actually happened. And it fills me with
+admiration of the blessed state of poverty. In my dream I pity the rich,
+with all my heart. To get rich, I think&mdash;in this dream&mdash;they must have
+practised so many deceptions&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Brother! brother!' Sir Samuel held up both hands.</p>
+
+<p>'In my dream&mdash;only in my dream. Those who inherit riches are burdened
+with the weight of their wealth, which will not suffer them to enter
+into the arena; will not allow them to develop and to exercise their
+talents, and afflicts them with the mental and bodily diseases that
+belong to indolence. The poor, on the other hand, who live from day to
+day, sometimes out of work for weeks together, practise easily the
+simple virtues of brotherly love, charity, and mutual helpfulness. They
+have learned to combine for the good of all rather than to fight, one
+against another, for selfish gain. It is the only world where all are
+borrowing and lending, giving and helping.'</p>
+
+<p>'Brother, this dream of yours is like a socialistic tract.'</p>
+
+<p>'It may be. Yet you see how strongly it takes hold of me, that while I
+see the absurdity of the whole thing, it is not unpleasing to recall the
+recollection of it. Well&mdash;I do not know what set me talking about this
+dream.'</p>
+
+<p>The smiles left his face: he became grave again: he ceased<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> to talk: for
+the rest of the evening he was once more the old solicitor, weighed down
+with the affairs of other people.</p>
+
+<p>'Checkley'&mdash;it was on the doorstep, and Sir Samuel waited while his wife
+said a few fond things to her sister&mdash;'what the devil came over my
+brother to-night?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know indeed, Sir Samuel. I never heard him talk like that
+before. Doin' good to 'em? Servin' a writ upon 'em is more our line. I
+think he must be upset somewhere in his inside, and it's gone to his
+head.'</p>
+
+<p>'Practical benevolence! Living for other people! Have you heard him
+complain of anything?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, Sir Samuel. He never complains. Eats hearty, walks upright and
+strong, works like he always has worked.&mdash;Doin' good! And the
+blessedness of being pore! Seems most wonderful. Blessedness of being
+pore! Well, Sir Samuel, I've enjoyed that blessedness myself, and I know
+what it's like. Any or'nary preachin' chap might talk that nonsense; but
+for your eminent brother, Sir Samuel, such a lawyer as him&mdash;to be
+talking such stuff&mdash;if I may humbly so speak of my learned master's
+words&mdash;it is&mdash;Sir Samuel&mdash;it really is amazing!'</p>
+
+<p>'He said it was a dream, remember. But I agree with you, Checkley.&mdash;It
+is amazing.'</p>
+
+<p>'Humph! The blessedness of being pore! And over such a glass of port,
+too! I thought I should ha' rolled off my chair&mdash;I did, indeed.&mdash;Here's
+your good lady, Sir Samuel.'</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>'Elsie,' said Mrs. Arundel in the carriage, 'I think it was high time
+that Mr. Dering should take a partner. He to dream of practical
+benevolence! He to be diffusing happiness with open hands! Oh! most
+lamentable&mdash;I call it. However, the deeds are signed, and we are all
+right. In case of anything happening, it is a comfort to think that
+George's position would be only improved.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<h3>AT THE GATES OF PARADISE</h3>
+
+<p>Many women have advanced the doctrine that the happiest time of life is
+that of their engagement. Of course no man can possibly understand this
+theory; but from a woman's point of view it can be defended, because it
+is for some girls the most delightful thing in the world to be wooed;
+and until the church service is actually said and the ring is on the
+finger, the bride is Queen and Mistress; afterwards&mdash;not always. But the
+happiness of it depends upon its being a courtship without obstacles.
+Now, in the case of the young couple whose fortunes we are following,
+there was plenty of love with excellent wooing; but the engagement had
+been opposed by the whole tribe of Arundels, so that every time she met
+her lover it was in open rebellion against her mother. To go home from a
+walk with him only to find the silence of resentment at home was not
+pleasant. Again, we have seen how they were looking forward to a life of
+poverty&mdash;even of privation. Dame Penury with her pinching ways and
+shrewish tongue was going to be their constant lodger. Then the young
+man could not choose but ask himself whether he was not a selfish beast
+to take a girl out of plenty into privation. And the girl could not
+choose but ask herself whether she was not selfish in laying this great
+burden upon the back of her lover. No one can be indifferent to such a
+prospect: no one can contemplate with pleasure the cheeseparings, the
+savings, the management of such a life: no one can like having to make a
+penny do the work of sixpence: no one can rejoice as one steps down,
+down, down the social ladder: no one can anticipate with satisfaction
+the loss of gentlehood for the daughters, and the loss of an adequate
+education for the sons.</p>
+
+<p>'You will make me happy,' said the lover, 'at the cost of everything
+that makes life happy for yourself.'</p>
+
+<p>'If I make you happy,' said the girl, 'I ask for nothing more. But oh! I
+am laying a heavy burden upon you. Can you bear it? Will you never blame
+me if the burden is greater than you can bear?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And now all the trouble vanished like a cloud from the morning
+sky&mdash;vanished so completely that there was not a trace of it left
+anywhere. The accusing figure of her mother was changed into a smiling
+face of pleased and satisfied maternity: reproaches were turned into
+words of endearment, angry looks to presents and caresses. And as for
+her sister, you might have thought that all this good fortune was
+actually achieved and conquered by Elsie&mdash;otherwise, how could one
+justify the praise and flattery that Hilda now lavished upon her? She
+gave a great dinner as a kind of official reception of the bridegroom
+into the family; she also gave a dance, at which she herself was the
+most beautiful woman&mdash;she stood in a conspicuous place all the evening,
+magnificently dressed, statuesque, wonderful: and Elsie was the
+prettiest girl at the party; but between the most beautiful woman and
+the prettiest girl was a difference! There is nothing like good fortune
+to bring out a girl's good qualities: Elsie had always had friends, now
+she might have numbered them by hundreds. Good fortune breeds friends as
+the sunshine creates the flowers. She was congratulated, caressed, and
+flattered enough to turn her head. Now, girls are so constituted that
+they love admiration, which is a kind of affection, even when it takes
+the form of flattery: and their heads may be easily turned; but they are
+as easily turned back again. And the house&mdash;the widow's house&mdash;which for
+so many years had been so dull and quiet a place, was transformed into a
+place of entertainment. It only wanted coloured lamps to make it another
+Vauxhall: it was crowded every night with the younger friends of bride
+and bridegroom. George had many friends. He was gregarious by nature: he
+was a rowing man on the athletic side: he had a healthy love and a light
+hand for things like billiards, shooting, and fishing: they are tastes
+which assist in the creation of friendships.</p>
+
+<p>These friends&mdash;young fellows of like mind&mdash;came to the house in
+multitudes to rally round the man about to desert their ranks. Young men
+are forgiving: George would row no more among them: he would be lost to
+the billiard table, and to the club itself: yet they forgave him, and
+accepted his invitation and went to see the bride. They found her with
+the friends of her own age. Heavens! how the daring of one man in taking
+away a maiden from the band encourages others! There are six love
+stories at least, all rising out of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> these evenings, and all of
+surpassing interest, had one the time to write them. They are both grave
+and gay: there are tears in every one: the course of true love in no
+case ran smooth except in the Story of the Two Stupids. Love's enemies
+can never effect aught against a Stupid, and so these two Stupids became
+engaged without opposition, and were married with acclamations; but they
+are too Stupid&mdash;perhaps&mdash;to know their own happiness.</p>
+
+<p>All this went on for three weeks. It was arranged that the happy pair
+should be married in the middle of August: they had resolved to spend
+their honeymoon in France, staying a few days in Paris, and then going
+on to see the towns and the country along the Loire, with the old city
+of Tours for their centre. They proposed to live entirely upon fruit and
+wine and kisses. No place in the world like Touraine for those who are
+so young, and so much in love, and so perfectly satisfied with so simple
+a diet. Even for those who take a cutlet with the fruit and the wine,
+there is no place equal to Touraine. Meantime, against the home-coming,
+a desirable flat was secured, not one of your little economical flats,
+all drawing-room with two or three rabbit-hutches for bedrooms, but a
+large and highly decorated flat with all the newest appliances, large
+rooms, and a lift and plenty of space for the dinner-parties and
+receptions which Elsie would have to give. The servants were engaged.
+The furniture was ordered, all in the advanced taste of the
+day&mdash;carpets, curtains, pictures, over-mantels, cabinets, screens. Elsie
+went every day to her new home and found something omitted, and sat down
+in it to wonder what it would be like&mdash;this new life she was entering
+upon. Oh! it was a busy time.&mdash;Then there was her trousseau&mdash;everybody
+knows the amount of thought and care required for a trousseau: this was
+approaching completion&mdash;everybody knows the happiness, peculiar, and
+unlike any other kind of happiness, with which a girl contemplates a
+heap of 'things,' all her own. I suppose that it is only at her wedding
+that she can enjoy this happiness, for afterwards, the 'things' are not
+her own, but the things of the family. The bride's dress, another thing
+of supreme importance, had been tried on, though as yet it was very,
+very far from being finished. The bridesmaids, two of George's sisters,
+had also already tried on their dresses. They came every day, two very
+sweet girls, who have both to do with those six love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> stories which will
+never, I fear, be told, to talk over the events and to see the presents.
+These came in daily, and were laid out in a room by themselves, looking
+very splendid: their splendour proved the wealth and the position of the
+pair, because rich presents are only given to rich people.</p>
+
+<p>In a word, everybody was heartily, loyally sympathetic, as if to make up
+for the previous harshness and coldness. For four weeks this happiness
+lasted! It was on Monday, June 29, that the golden shower descended upon
+them: it was on Monday, July 20, that the rain of gold ceased, and
+another kind of cloud came up which speedily changed into a driving
+storm of rain and sleet and hail and ice and snow.</p>
+
+<p>Look at them on Sunday. Before the storm there is generally a brief time
+of sunshine, warm and fine: after the storm, the calm that follows is a
+time of dismay, speechless and tearless. Sunday was the day before the
+storm: it was a day of sunshine without and within. The lovers spent the
+whole day together, hand in hand. They went to church together: they sat
+side by side, they warbled off the same hymn book. The service proved,
+as the preacher used to say, a season of refreshment, for never doth
+religion so uplift the soul as when it is entirely happy: the voices of
+the choir chanting the psalms filled them with joy, and would have done
+so even if they had been penitential minors, and the lamentation of a
+sinner. Their hearts rose higher and higher as the preacher exhorted,
+and would have flown upwards just as much whether he had brandished the
+terrors of the law or held out the gracious promise of the Gospel. For
+you see, at such a time as this, whatever was said or done only led this
+faithful pair farther and deeper into the shady glades and fragrant
+lawns and flowery dells of Love's Paradise.</p>
+
+<p>Every church, at every service, and especially in the evening, contains
+many such lovers. You may know them by certain infallible signs. They
+sit very close together: they sing off the same book: their faces betray
+by the rigidity of their attitude, which is that of pretended attention,
+the far-away expression of their eyes, and the absence of any external
+sign of emotion or sympathy with the preacher, that their hands, beneath
+some folds of the feminine gabardine, are closely clasped. It has
+sometimes pleased the philosopher and relieved the tedium of a dull
+sermon to look round the congregation and to pick out the lovers&mdash;here a
+pair and there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> a pair. Even in the church, you see, Love is conqueror
+and king.</p>
+
+<p>These lovers, therefore, went to church in a frame of mind truly
+heavenly: nobody in the whole congregation felt more deeply pious: every
+response was an Act of Praise: every prayer an Act of Gratitude: every
+hymn a personal Thank-offering. But beneath those seemingly calm faces
+was flying and rushing a whirlwind of hopes, memories, plans, projects,
+and gratitudes. He who looks back upon the days immediately before his
+wedding-day&mdash;most men no more remember their own emotions than a child
+remembers yesterday's earache&mdash;will wonder how he lived through that
+time of change, when all that he prayed for was granted, but on the
+condition of a turning upside down of all his habits, customs, and
+petted ways.</p>
+
+<p>All round them sat the people, no doubt with minds wholly attuned to the
+service of Prayer and Praise. Well, the sheep in a flock to outward
+seeming are all alike, yet every animal has his own desires and small
+ambitions for himself. So I suppose with the congregation. As every man
+shuts the street door behind him and trudges along the way to
+church&mdash;the <i>Via Sacra</i>&mdash;with wife and children, he carries in his
+waistcoat pocket, close to his heart, a little packet of business cares
+to think upon during the sermon. And if all the thoughts of all the
+people could be collected after the sermon instead of the offertory,
+they would make a salutary oblation indeed.</p>
+
+<p>'George,' said Elsie, as they came out, 'let us go into the Gardens and
+sit under a tree and talk. Let us get away from everybody for half an
+hour.'</p>
+
+<p>Kensington Gardens were filled with the customary throng of those who,
+like themselves, had been to church. The carping philosopher says unkind
+things about Church, and Gardens, and Fashion. As if Church would ever
+keep like from congregating with like! There were shoals of beautiful
+girls, dressed as well as they knew or could afford: dozens of young
+fellows, and with them the no longer quite so young, the no longer
+young, the no longer young at all, the middle-aged, the elderly and the
+old, not to speak of the children. Elsie looked up and down the walk.
+'We are never so much alone as in a crowd,' she said, with the air that
+some girls assume of saying an original thing which no woman ever did
+say yet, unless by accident.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> They joined the stream: presently George
+led the girl out of the road and across the grass to a place where two
+or three chairs were set under the trees. They sat down. Then occurred
+the miracle wrought in these gardens every day and all day long. Out of
+the ground sprang a man&mdash;for such he seemed, though doubtless a
+spirit-messenger&mdash;who demanded twopence. This paid, he vanished
+straightway. After this ceremony they talked.</p>
+
+<p>'George,' said the girl, 'every day now, wherever I am, even at church,
+I feel as if I should like to jump up and sing and dance. This morning I
+should have liked a service all to ourselves&mdash;you to read and I to sing:
+you to pray and I to praise. I kept wondering if there was any girl in
+the place so happy as myself&mdash;or so unhappy as I was three short weeks
+ago.'</p>
+
+<p>'Elsie,' said George&mdash;a simple thing to say, but it had a thousand
+meanings.</p>
+
+<p>'We have not deserved it. Indeed, indeed&mdash;we have not. Why are we
+singled out for such joy? We already had the greatest thing of all&mdash;we
+had love. That is happiness enough for some women. We only wanted a
+little more money, and now we have all this great fortune.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is wonderful, Elsie!'</p>
+
+<p>She laid her hand on his and spoke in her sweet low voice, gazing
+upwards. 'George! I am so happy, that I want everybody else to be happy
+as well. The angels, I am sure, must lose some of their joy in wishing
+that all were with them. I pity all those poor girls who have no lovers:
+all those poor married people who are lying in poverty: all those poor
+creatures who are trying for what they cannot get; all those who are
+weeping outside the gates of Heaven. George, it is a beautiful world,
+and it should be such a happy world: there should be nothing but joy all
+through life. There is such an abundance of happiness possible in it.
+Sadness is only a passing cloud: anxiety is only a touch of east wind:
+evil and pain are only fleeting shadows.'</p>
+
+<p>She sighed and clasped her hands, and the tears rose to her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>'We shall grow old together, George,' she went on, murmuring rather than
+speaking.&mdash;I omit her lover's interruptions and interjections.&mdash;'You
+will always love me, long after my beauty&mdash;you know you will call it
+beauty, George&mdash;is past and gone:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> even when I am a poor old crone
+doubled up in my arm-chair: you will always love me. My life will be
+full&mdash;full&mdash;full of love. Perhaps&mdash;&mdash;' Here her face flushed, and she
+stopped. 'We shall have no trouble about money: we shall go on always
+learning more and more, growing wiser and wiser and wiser. You will be a
+wise and good man, thinking and working all your life for other people,
+just as Mr. Dering imagined&mdash;three weeks ago. Everybody will love and
+respect you. Then you will grow grey-headed, you poor, dear boy; and all
+the world will say how wise and strong you are; and I shall be prouder
+of my old husband than even I was of my young lover. The life that
+others have dreamed, we shall live. Every day shall come laden with its
+own joy, so that we would not, if we could help it, suffer it to go
+away.' She struck a deeper note, and her voice trembled and sank and her
+eyes filled with tears: 'Life shall be all happiness, as God intended
+for us. Even Death will be little sorrow, for the separation will be so
+short.' Once more she laid her hand on his.</p>
+
+<p>Even to the most frivolous, the prospect of the wedded life awakens
+grave and solemn thoughts: for those who have eyes to see and ears to
+hear and brains to understand, there is no prospect so charged with
+chances and possibilities, where even life itself may become a Death in
+Life.</p>
+
+<p>When George left her in the evening, he drove to see Athelstan.</p>
+
+<p>'So,' he said, 'you have been courting all day, I suppose. You ought to
+have had enough of it. Sit down and have something&mdash;a pipe&mdash;a
+cigar.&mdash;Well&mdash;you are going to be very jolly, I suppose. Elsie's little
+fortune will help a bit, won't it?'</p>
+
+<p>'I should think so, indeed.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;I've been very glad, ever since you told me that the child had had
+this stroke of luck. I wonder who gave her the money? To be sure, there
+is plenty of money knocking about among the Arundels. Most of us have
+had a sort of instinct for making money. Put us down anywhere among a
+lot of men in a city, and we begin to transfer the contents of their
+pockets to our own.'</p>
+
+<p>'Meanwhile, give up this old resentment. Come back to your own people.
+Come to our wedding.'</p>
+
+<p>'I cannot possibly, unless you will tell me who forged that cheque. How
+could I go back to people who still believe me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> guilty? When you are
+married, I will go and see Elsie, which I can do with a light heart. You
+have not told any one about my return?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly not. No one suspects, and no one talks or thinks about you.'</p>
+
+<p>Athelstan laughed a little. 'That is a doubtful piece of information. Am
+I to rejoice or to weep, because I am completely forgotten and out of
+mind? It is rather humiliating, isn't it?'</p>
+
+<p>'You are not forgotten at all. That is a different thing. Only they do
+not speak of you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, George, never mind that now. I am glad you came to-night, because
+I have some news for you. I have found the commissionaire who took the
+cheque to the Bank&mdash;actually found the man.'</p>
+
+<p>'No! After all these years?'</p>
+
+<p>'I wrote out the particulars of the case&mdash;briefly. Yesterday I took the
+paper to the commissionaires' barrack in the Strand and offered a reward
+for the recovery of the man who had cashed the cheque. That same evening
+the man presented himself and claimed the reward. He remembered the
+thing very well&mdash;for this reason: the gentleman who employed him first
+sent him with a bag to a Parcel Delivery Office: he did not look at the
+address. The gentleman was staying at the Cecil Hotel. Now the
+commissionaire was a one-armed man. Because he had only one arm, the
+gentleman&mdash;who was a pleasant-spoken gentleman&mdash;gave him ten shillings
+for his trouble, which was nine shillings more than his proper pay. The
+gentleman sent him to the Bank with this cheque to cash, and he returned
+with seven hundred and twenty pounds in ten-pound notes. Then it was
+that the gentleman&mdash;who seems to have been a free-handed gentleman&mdash;gave
+him the ten shillings. The man says that he would know that gentleman
+anywhere. He was old, and had grey hair. He says that he should know him
+wherever he saw him. What do you think of that?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;it is something, if you could find that old man.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, of course it was Checkley&mdash;grey-haired Checkley. We'll catch that
+old fox, yet. Beware of Checkley. He's a Fox. He's a Worm. He's a
+creeping Centipede. When the old man goes, you must make Checkley
+pack.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<h3>A MYSTERIOUS DISCOVERY</h3>
+
+<p>On Monday morning the Unexpected happened. It came with more than common
+malignity. In fact, nothing more threatening to the persons chiefly
+concerned in the calamity could have happened, though at first they were
+happily spared the comprehension of its full significance.</p>
+
+<p>There is a wide-spread superstition&mdash;so wide that it must be true&mdash;that
+at those rare moments when one feels foolishly happy, at peace with all
+the world, at peace with one's own conscience, all injuries forgiven,
+the future stretched out before like a sunlit peaceful lake, some
+disaster, great or small, is certainly imminent. 'Don't feel too happy,'
+says Experience Universal. The Gods resent the happiness of man. Affect
+a little anxiety. Assume a certain sadness. Restrain that dancing leg.
+If you must shake it, do so as if by accident, or as if in terror&mdash;for
+choice, shake it over an open grave in the churchyard. Stop singing that
+song of joy; try the Lamentation of a Sinner instead. So will the Gods
+be deceived. Above all, never allow yourself to believe that the Devil
+is dead. He is not even asleep. By carefully observing these
+precautions, a great many misfortunes may be averted. If, for instance,
+George had gone home soberly on Sunday night instead of carrying on like
+a schoolboy in playtime, obviously happy, and so inviting calamity,
+perhaps he would never have been connected&mdash;as he afterwards
+became&mdash;with this disaster.</p>
+
+<p>You have heard that Mr. Dering was a man of method. Every morning he
+arrived at his office at a quarter before ten: he hung up his coat and
+hat in a recess behind the door: he then opened his safe with his own
+hand. Checkley had already laid out the table with a clean blotting-pad,
+pens, and letter-paper: he had also placed the letters of the day upon
+the pad. The reading of the letters began the day's work. The lawyer
+read them, made notes upon them, rang for his shorthand clerk, and
+dictated answers. These dispatched, he turned to the standing business.
+This morning, with the usual routine, he was plodding through the
+letters of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> the day, taking up one after the other, and reading half
+mechanically. Presently he opened one, and looked at the heading. 'Ellis
+&amp; Northcote,' he said. 'What do they want?' Then he suddenly stopped
+short and started. Then he began the letter again, and again he stopped
+short. It was from his brokers in the City, and it recommended a certain
+advantageous investment. That was not in itself very extraordinary. But
+it contained the following remarkable passage: 'You have made such great
+transfers and so many sales during the last few months that you have
+probably more profitable uses for money in your own business. But if you
+should have a few thousands available at the present moment, it is a
+most favourable opportunity&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Great transfers and many sales?' asked Mr. Dering, bewildered. 'What
+transfers? What sales does he mean?'</p>
+
+<p>He turned over the pages of his Diary. He could find no transactions of
+the kind at all. Then he reflected again. 'I can remember no transfers,'
+he murmured. 'Is this another trick of memory?'</p>
+
+<p>Finally, he touched the bell upon his table.</p>
+
+<p>'Checkley,' said Mr. Dering, on the appearance of the ancient clerk, 'I
+have got a letter that I don't understand at all. I told you that my
+memory was going. Now you see. Here is a letter about transfers and
+sales of stock. What transfers? I don't understand one word of it. My
+memory is not only going&mdash;it is gone.'</p>
+
+<p>'Memory going? Nonsense,' the old man shook his head. 'No&mdash;no; your
+memory is all right. Mine is as clear as a bell. So's yours. You eat
+hearty. So do I. You sleep well. So do I. We're both as hale and hearty
+as ever.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no. My memory is not what it was. I've told you so a dozen times. I
+lose myself sometimes. Yesterday, when the clock struck twelve, I
+thought it was only ten. I had lost two hours. And sometimes when I walk
+home, I lose recollection of the walk afterwards.'</p>
+
+<p>'Tut, tut; nobody of your age is such a young man as you. Why, you walk
+like five-and-twenty. And you eat hearty&mdash;you eat very hearty.' His
+words were encouraging, but he looked anxiously at his master. Truly,
+there was no apparent decay in Mr. Dering. He sat as upright: he looked
+as keen: he spoke as clearly, as ever.</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;about this letter. My friend Ellis, of Ellis <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>&amp; Northcote, writes
+to me about something or other, and speaks of my effecting great
+transfers and sales of stock lately. What does he mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'You haven't bought or sold any stock lately, that I know of.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, you would have known.&mdash;Have we had to make any investments for
+clients of late? There was the Dalton-Smith estate.'</p>
+
+<p>'That was eleven months ago.'</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose he must mean that&mdash;he can't mean anything else. Yes, that is
+it. Well&mdash;I've got a Partner now, so that it matters less than it would
+have done&mdash;had my memory played me tricks with no other responsible man
+in the place.'</p>
+
+<p>'You didn't want a partner,' said Checkley jealously. 'You had ME.'</p>
+
+<p>'He must mean that,' Mr. Dering repeated. 'He can't mean anything else.
+However&mdash;has my Bank book been made up lately?'</p>
+
+<p>'Here it is. Made up last Friday. Nothing been in or out since.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering had not looked at his book for three or four months. He was
+well served: his people took care of his Bank book. Now he opened it,
+and began to run his finger up and down the pages.</p>
+
+<p>'Checkley,' he said, 'what has happened to Newcastle Corporation Stock?
+The dividends were due some weeks ago. They are not paid yet. Is the
+town gone bankrupt? And&mdash;eh? Where is Wolverhampton? And&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;' He
+turned over the paper quickly. 'Checkley, there is something wrong with
+the book. Not a single dividend of anything entered for the last four
+months. There ought to have been about six hundred pounds in that time.'</p>
+
+<p>'Queer mistake,' said Checkley. 'I'll take the book round to the Bank,
+and have it corrected.'</p>
+
+<p>'A very gross and careless mistake, I call it. Tell the manager I said
+so. Let it be set right at once, Checkley&mdash;at once&mdash;and while you wait.
+And bring it back to me.'</p>
+
+<p>The Bank was in Chancery Lane, close to the office. The old clerk went
+off on his errand.</p>
+
+<p>'A very careless mistake,' the lawyer repeated; 'any clerk of mine who
+committed such a mistake should be dismissed at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> once.' In fact, the
+certainty of full and speedy justice kept Mr. Dering's clerks always at
+a high level of efficiency.</p>
+
+<p>He returned to the letters, apparently with no further uneasiness.</p>
+
+<p>After ten minutes, Checkley taking longer than he expected, Mr. Dering
+became aware that his attention was wandering. 'Great transfers and many
+sales,' he repeated. 'After all, he must mean the investment of that
+Dalton-Smith money. Yet that was only a single transaction. What can he
+mean? He must have made a mistake. He must be thinking of another
+client. It's his memory, not mine, that is confused. That's it&mdash;his
+memory.'</p>
+
+<p>The large open safe in the corner was filled with stacks of paper tied
+up and endorsed. These papers contained, among other things, the
+securities for the whole of Mr. Dering's private fortune, which was now
+very considerable. Even the greatest City magnate would feel for Mr.
+Dering the respect due to wealth if he knew the amount represented by
+the contents of that safe. There they were, the leases, agreements,
+mortgages, deeds, bonds, conveyances, shares, all the legal documents by
+which the wicked man is prevented from seizing and appropriating the
+rich man's savings. Formerly the rich man kept his money in a box with
+iron bands. He locked up the box and put it in a recess in the cellar
+contrived in the stone wall. If he was only a bourgeois, it was but a
+little box, and he put it in a secret place (but everybody knew the
+secret) at the head of his bed. If he were a peasant, he tied his money
+up in a clout and put it under the hearthstone. In any case, thieves
+broke in and stole those riches. Now, grown wiser, he has no box of
+treasures at all: he lends it all in various directions and to various
+associations and companies. Every rich man is a money-lender: he is
+either Shylock the Great or Shylock the Less, according to the amount he
+lends. Thieves can steal nothing but paper which is no use to them. As
+we grow wiser still, we shall have nothing at all in any house that can
+be of any use to any thief, because everything in the least valuable
+will have its papers, without the production of which nothing of value
+will be bought or sold. And all the gold and silver, whether forks or
+mugs, will be lodged in the Bank. Then everybody will become honest, and
+the Eighth Commandment will be forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>Among Mr. Dering's papers were share certificates, bonds,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> and scrip of
+various kinds, amounting in all to a great many thousands. Of this money
+a sum of nearly thirteen thousand pounds belonged to Elsie, but was
+still in her guardian's name. This, of course, was the fortune which had
+fallen so unexpectedly into the girl's hands. The rest, amounting to
+about twenty-five thousand pounds, was his own money. It represented of
+course only a part, only a small part, of his very respectable fortune.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering, whose memory, if it was decaying, was certainly clear on
+some points, looked across the room at the open safe, and began to think
+of the papers representing their investments. He remembered perfectly
+all the different Corporation Stock. All the water, gas, railway shares,
+the Indian Stock and the Colonial Stock: the Debenture companies and the
+Trading companies. He was foolish, he thought, to be disturbed by a mere
+mistake of the broker: his recent lapses of memory had made him nervous:
+there could be nothing wrong: but that clerk at the Bank ought to be
+dismissed for carelessness. There could be nothing wrong: for the sake
+of assurance he would turn out the papers: but there could be nothing
+wrong.</p>
+
+<p>He knew very well where they were; everything in his office had its
+place: they were all tied up together in a bulky parcel, bestowed upon a
+certain shelf or compartment of the safe. He pushed back his chair, got
+up, and walked over to the safe.</p>
+
+<p>Strange! The papers were not in their place. Again he felt the former
+irritation at having forgotten something. It was always returning: every
+day he seemed to be forgetting something. But the certificates must be
+in the safe. He stood irresolutely looking at the piles of papers,
+trying to think how they could have been displaced. While he was thus
+wondering and gazing, Checkley came back, Bank-book in hand.</p>
+
+<p>'There is something wrong,' he said. 'No dividends at all have been paid
+to your account for the last three months. There is no mistake at the
+Bank. I've seen the manager, and he's looked into it, and says there
+can't be any mistake about the entries.'</p>
+
+<p>'No dividends? What is the meaning of it, Checkley? No dividends? Why,
+there's thirty-eight thousand pounds worth of stock. The certificates
+are kept here in the safe; only, for some reason or other, I can't find
+them at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> moment. They must be in the safe somewhere. Just help me to
+find them, will you?'</p>
+
+<p>He began to search among the papers, at first a little anxiously, then
+nervously, then feverishly.</p>
+
+<p>'Where are they?' he cried, tossing over the bundles. 'They must be
+here. They must be here. Let us turn out the whole contents of the safe.
+We must find them. They have never been kept in any other place. Nobody
+has touched them or seen them except myself.'</p>
+
+<p>The old clerk pulled out all the papers in the safe and laid them in a
+great pile on the table. When there was nothing left in the safe, they
+began systematically to go through the whole. When they had finished,
+they looked at each other blankly.</p>
+
+<p>Everything was there except the certificates and scrip representing the
+investment of thirty-eight thousand pounds. These alone could not be
+found. They examined every packet: they opened every bundle of papers:
+they looked into every folded sheet of parchment or foolscap. The
+certificates were not in the safe. 'Well,' said the clerk at last,
+'they're not here, you see.&mdash;Now then!'</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of their perplexity happened a thing almost as surprising
+and quite as unexpected as the loss of the certificates. Among the
+papers was a small round parcel tied up with red tape. Checkley opened
+it. 'Bank-notes,' he said, and laid it aside. They were not at the
+moment looking for bank-notes, but for certificates. When he was
+satisfied that these were not in the safe, and had thrown, so to speak,
+the responsibility of finding out the cause of their absence upon his
+master, he took up once more this bundle. It was, as he had said, a
+bundle of bank-notes rolled up and tied round. He untied the knot and
+laid them flat, turning up the corners and counting. 'Curious,' he said;
+'they're all ten-pound notes&mdash;all ten-pound notes: there must be more
+than fifty of them. And the outside one is covered with dust. What are
+they?'</p>
+
+<p>'How should I know?' said Mr. Dering irritably. 'Give them to me.
+Bank-notes? There are no bank-notes in my safe.'</p>
+
+<p>'Forgotten!' the clerk murmured. 'Clients' money, perhaps. But the
+client would have asked for it. Five or six hundred pounds. How can five
+hundred pounds be forgotten? Even a Rothschild would remember five
+hundred pounds.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> Forgotten!' He glanced suspiciously at his master, and
+shook his head, fumbling among the papers.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering snatched the bundle from his clerk. Truly, they were
+bank-notes&mdash;ten-pound bank-notes; and they had been forgotten. The clerk
+was right. There is no Firm in the world where a bundle worth five
+hundred pounds could be forgotten and no inquiry made after it. Mr.
+Dering stared blankly at them. 'Notes!' he cried&mdash;'notes! Ten-pound
+notes. What notes?&mdash;Checkley, how did these notes come here?'</p>
+
+<p>'If you don't know,' the clerk replied, 'nobody knows. You've got the
+key of the safe.'</p>
+
+<p>'Good Heavens!' If Mr. Dering had been twenty years younger, he would
+have jumped. Men of seventy-five are not allowed to jump. The dignity of
+age does not allow of jumping. 'This is most wonderful! Checkley, this
+is most mysterious!'</p>
+
+<p>'What is it?'</p>
+
+<p>'These notes&mdash;the Devil is in the safe to-day, I do believe. First the
+certificates are lost; that is, they can't be found&mdash;and next these
+notes turn up.'</p>
+
+<p>'What notes are they, then?'</p>
+
+<p>'They are nothing else than the bank-notes paid across the counter for
+that forged cheque of eight years ago. Oh! there is no doubt of it&mdash;none
+whatever. I remember the numbers&mdash;the consecutive numbers&mdash;seventy-two
+of them&mdash;seven hundred and twenty pounds. How did they get here? Who put
+them in? Checkley, I say, how did these notes get here?'</p>
+
+<p>He held the notes in his hand and asked these questions in pure
+bewilderment, and not in the expectation of receiving any reply.</p>
+
+<p>'The notes paid to that young gentleman when he forged the cheque,' said
+Checkley, 'must have been put back in the safe by him. There's no other
+way to account for it. He was afraid to present them. He heard you say
+they were stopped, and he put them back. I think I see him doing it.
+While he was flaring out, he done it&mdash;I'm sure I see him doing it.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering received this suggestion without remark. He laid down the
+notes and stared at his clerk. The two old men stared blankly at each
+other. Perhaps Checkley's countenance, of the two, expressed the greater
+astonishment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'How did those notes get into the safe?' the lawyer repeated. 'This is
+even a more wonderful thing than the mislaying of the certificates. You
+took them out. Show me exactly where they were lying.'</p>
+
+<p>'They were behind these books. See! the outside note is covered with
+dust.'</p>
+
+<p>'They must have been lying there all these years. In my safe! The very
+notes paid across the counter to the forger's messenger! In my safe!
+What does this mean? I feel as if I was going mad. I say&mdash; What does all
+this mean, Checkley?'</p>
+
+<p>The clerk made answer slowly, repeating his former suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>'Since young Arundel forged the cheque, young Arundel got the notes.
+Since young Arundel got the notes, young Arundel must have put them
+back. No one else could. When young Arundel put them back, he done it
+because he was afraid of your finding out. He put them back unseen by
+you that day when you charged him with the crime.'</p>
+
+<p>'I did not charge him. I have charged no one.'</p>
+
+<p>'I charged him, then, and you did not contradict. I'd charge him again
+if he was here.'</p>
+
+<p>'Any man may charge anything upon any other man. There was no proof
+whatever, and none has ever come to light.'</p>
+
+<p>'You're always for proofs that will convict a man. I only said that
+nobody else could do the thing. As for putting the notes back again in
+the safe, now I come to think of it'&mdash;his face became cunning and
+malignant&mdash;'I do remember&mdash;yes&mdash;oh! yes&mdash;I clearly remember&mdash;I quite
+clearly remember&mdash;I see it as plain as if it was before me. He got
+sidling nearer and nearer the safe while we were talking: he got quite
+close&mdash;so&mdash;he chucked a bundle in when he thought I wasn't looking. I
+think&mdash;I almost think&mdash;I could swear to it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nonsense,' said the lawyer. 'Your memory is too clear. Tie up the
+notes, Checkley, and put them back. They may help, perhaps, some time,
+to find out the man. Meantime, let us go back to our search. Let us find
+these certificates.'</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>They had now examined every packet in the safe: they had looked at every
+paper: they had opened every book and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> searched through all the leaves.
+There was no doubt left: the certificates were not there.</p>
+
+<p>Checkley began to tie up the bundles again. His master sat down trying
+to remember something&mdash;everything&mdash;that could account for their
+disappearance.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<h3>A MYSTERIOUS DISCOVERY</h3>
+
+<p>The safe disposed of, there remained a cupboard, two tables full of
+drawers, twenty or thirty tin boxes. Checkley examined every one of
+these receptacles. In vain. There was not anywhere any trace of the
+certificates.</p>
+
+<p>'Yet,' said Mr. Dering, 'they must be somewhere. We have been hunting
+all the morning, and we have not found them. They are not in this room.
+Yet they must be somewhere. Certificates and such things don't fly away.
+They are of no use to any one. People don't steal certificates. I must
+have done something with them.'</p>
+
+<p>'Did you take them home with you?'</p>
+
+<p>'Why should I do that? I have no safe or strong-room at home.'</p>
+
+<p>'Did you send them to the Bank for greater safety? To be sure, they
+would be no more safe there than here.'</p>
+
+<p>'Go and ask. See the manager. Ask him if he holds any certificates of
+mine.'</p>
+
+<p>The clerk turned to obey.</p>
+
+<p>'No.' Mr. Dering stopped him. 'What's the good? If he held the things,
+there would have been dividends. Yet what can I do?' For the first time
+in his life the lawyer felt the emotion that he had often observed in
+clients at times of real disaster. He felt as if there was nothing
+certain: not even Property: as if the law itself, actually the law&mdash;was
+of no use. His brain reeled: the ground was slipping under his feet, and
+he was falling forward through the table, and the floor and the
+foundation&mdash;forward and down&mdash;down&mdash;down. 'What can I do?' he repeated.
+'Checkley, go. See the manager. There may be something to find out. I
+can't think properly. Go.'</p>
+
+<p>When the clerk left him, he laid his head upon his hands<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> and tried to
+put things quite clearly before himself. 'Where can the certificates
+be?' he asked himself, repeating this question twenty times. He was
+quite conscious that if he had been consulted on such a point by a
+client he would have replied with the greatest readiness, suggesting the
+one really practical thing to do. For himself he could advise nothing.
+'Where can the certificates be? Nobody steals Corporation stock and gas
+companies' shares. They are no good if you do steal them. They can't be
+sold without the authority of the owner: he has got to sign transfer
+papers: if they were stolen, the dividends would go on being paid to the
+owner just the same. Besides&mdash;&mdash;' Somewhere about this point he
+bethought him of the Bank-book. If the stock had been sold the money
+would appear to his credit. He snatched the book and looked at it. No;
+there was no entry which could possibly represent the sale of stock. He
+knew what every entry meant, and when the amount was paid in: his memory
+was perfectly clear upon this point.</p>
+
+<p>Checkley's suggestion occurred to him. Had he taken the certificates
+home with him? He might have done for some reason which he had now
+forgotten. Yes; that was the one possible explanation. He must have
+done. For a moment he breathed again&mdash;only for a moment, because he
+immediately reflected that he could not possibly do such a thing as take
+those securities to a house where he never transacted any business at
+all. Then he returned to his former bewilderment and terror. What had
+become of them? Why had he taken them out of the safe? Where had he
+bestowed them?</p>
+
+<p>And why were there no dividends paid to him on these stocks? Why? He
+turned white with terror when he realised that if he got no more
+dividends, he could have no more stocks.</p>
+
+<p>During a long professional career of fifty years, Mr. Dering had never
+made a mistake&mdash;at least he thought so. If he had not always invested
+his money to the greatest profit, he had invested it safely. He did not
+get the interest that some City men expect, but he made no losses. He
+looked upon himself, therefore, as a man of great sagacity, whereas in
+such matters he was only a man of great prudence. Also, during this long
+period he was always in the enjoyment of a considerable income.
+Therefore he had never known the least anxiety about money. Yet all his
+life he had been counselling other people in their anxieties. It was
+exactly as if a specialist in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> some mortal disease should be himself
+attacked by it. Or it was as if the bo'sun, whose duty it is to
+superintend the flogging, should be himself tied up.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing came to him: no glimmer of light: not the least recollection of
+anything. Then he thought desperately, that perhaps if he were to
+imagine how it would be if somebody else, not himself at all, were to
+come to himself and lay the story before him as a solicitor, for advice.
+Or how it would be if he himself were to go to himself as a solicitor
+and put the case.</p>
+
+<p>When Checkley came back, he found his master leaning back in his chair,
+his eyes wide open and staring at him as he opened the door&mdash;yet they
+saw nothing. Checkley stood under the gaze of those eyes, which saw him
+not. 'Good Lord!' he murmured. 'Is the time come? Is he going to die?'</p>
+
+<p>His face was white. He seemed to be listening anxiously: his lips were
+parted. 'He's in a fit of some kind,' thought the old clerk.</p>
+
+<p>He stood watching. He ought, perhaps, to have called for assistance. He
+did not think of it. He stood and watched, his face as pale as his
+master's. Was it the end? If so&mdash;we all think of ourselves first&mdash;what
+about his berth and salary?</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly his master's eyes closed; he dropped his head: he heaved a deep
+sigh: he moved his head and opened his eyes. He was restored to himself.
+The fit, whatever it was, had passed.</p>
+
+<p>'Checkley,' he said, 'I've been trying to put the thing to myself as if
+some other man&mdash;a client&mdash;was putting his case to me. I began very well.
+The other man came&mdash;that is, I myself called upon myself. I sat and
+heard my own story. I forgot, somehow, what the story was'&mdash;he shook his
+head impatiently. 'Forget&mdash;forget&mdash;I always forget. But I remember that
+it wasn't the story I wanted him to tell. It was another story
+altogether. He didn't tell me what I wanted to know. That is&mdash;what has
+become of the certificates. I'm no nearer than I was. He made out that I
+was actually selling the certificates myself.'</p>
+
+<p>'You're wandering a bit,' said Checkley, anxiously watching him. 'That's
+all. You'll be all right presently. You've bin shook up a bit, with the
+certificates and the notes and all. If I were you I'd have a glass of
+something stiff.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no; I shall come round presently. Yes&mdash;that's it. I'm a good deal
+upset by this business. Somehow, I don't seem able to think clearly
+about it. Let me see'&mdash;he sighed heavily&mdash;'I think you went
+somewhere&mdash;somewhere for me, before&mdash;before the other man came.'</p>
+
+<p>'For Lord's sake, don't talk about the other man. There's no such
+person. Yes&mdash;I did go for you; I went to ask the manager of the Bank
+whether he held any stock for you.'</p>
+
+<p>'The manager of the Bank. True. Well, and does he hold anything?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not a scrap. Never had any.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then, Checkley'&mdash;Mr. Dering dropped his hands helplessly&mdash;'what is to
+be done?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know, I'm sure,' the clerk replied with equal helplessness. 'I
+never heard of such a thing before in all my life. Thirty-eight thousand
+pounds! It can't be. Nobody ever heard of such a thing before. Perhaps
+they are about the place somewhere. Let's have another search.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no. It is useless. Why&mdash;I have had no dividends. The shares were
+all transferred, and nothing has been paid for them. The shares have
+been stolen. Checkley, I can't think. For the first time in my life, I
+can't think&mdash;I want some one to advise me. I must put the case in
+somebody's hands.'</p>
+
+<p>'There's your young partner&mdash;a chance for him to show that he's worth
+his pay. Why don't you consult him, and then come back to the old plan
+of you and me? We're knocked a bit silly just at first; but the case
+will come to us in the long run. You would have a partner&mdash;nothing would
+do but a partner. The boy's in his own room now, I suppose, with a crown
+upon his head and the clerks kneelin' around&mdash;as grand as you please.
+Send for him.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering nodded.</p>
+
+<p>The partner, when he arrived a few minutes later, found the Chief
+walking about the room in uncontrollable agitation. On the table
+lay piled the whole contents of the safe. In front of it stood
+the ancient clerk, trembling and shaking&mdash;head, hands, knees, and
+shoulders&mdash;following the movements of his master with eyes full of
+anxiety and terror. This strange fit, this forgetfulness, this rambling
+talk about another man, this new restlessness, frightened him.</p>
+
+<p>'You are come at last.' Mr. Dering stopped and threw himself into his
+chair. Now, my partner, hear the case and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> resolve the difficulty for
+us, if you can.&mdash;Tell him, Checkley&mdash;or&mdash;stay; no. I will tell it
+myself. Either I have lost my reason and my memory, or I have been
+robbed.'</p>
+
+<p>George stood at the table and listened. Something of the utmost gravity
+had happened. Never before had he seen his Chief in the least degree
+shaken out of his accustomed frigidity of calm. Now he was excited; his
+eyes were restless; he talked fast, he talked badly. He made half a
+dozen attempts to begin: he marshalled his facts in a slovenly and
+disorderly manner, quite unlike his usual clear arrangement: for fifty
+years he had been marshalling facts and drawing up cases, and at his own
+he broke down.</p>
+
+<p>'I think I understand the whole,' said George, when his Chief paused and
+Checkley ceased to correct and to add. 'You had certificates
+representing investments to the amount of 38,000<i>l</i>.: these are gone,
+unaccountably gone: no dividends have been paid for some months, and
+your broker speaks of large transfers.'</p>
+
+<p>'That's not all,' said Checkley. 'Tell him about the notes.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes. The fact may have some bearing upon the case. While we were
+looking for the certificates, and in order, I suppose, to complicate
+things and to bewilder me the more, we found in the safe the very
+notes&mdash;give me the bundle, Checkley&mdash;there they are&mdash;that were paid over
+the Bank counter to the man who forged my name eight years ago.'</p>
+
+<p>'What? The case in which Athelstan Arundel was accused?'</p>
+
+<p>'The same. There they are&mdash;you hold them in your hand&mdash;the very notes!
+Strange! on the very day when I am threatened with another and a worse
+robbery! Yes&mdash;yes; the very notes!&mdash;the very notes! This is wonderful.
+Who put them there?'</p>
+
+<p>'How can I know?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;but in any case one thing is certain. Athelstan's name is cleared
+at last. You will tell his mother that.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not at all,' said Checkley. 'Why shouldn't he put 'em in himself? I saw
+him edging up towards the safe&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Saw him edging&mdash;stuff and nonsense! His name is cleared. This will be
+joyful news to his mother and sisters.'</p>
+
+<p>'Austin, get me back my certificates,' said Mr. Dering;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> 'never mind
+those notes now. Never mind the joyful news. Never mind Athelstan's
+name; that can wait. The thought of him and the old forgery only
+bewilders my brain at this juncture. I cannot act. I cannot think. I
+feel as if I was blinded and stupefied. Act for me&mdash;think for me&mdash;work
+for me. Be my solicitor, George, as well as my partner.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will do my best. It is difficult at first to understand&mdash;for what has
+happened? You cannot find&mdash;you have mislaid&mdash;certain papers. Certain
+dividends which were due do not appear to have been paid: and your
+brokers, Ellis &amp; Northcote, have used a phrase in a letter which you do
+not understand. Would it not be well to get them here; or shall I go
+into the City and ask them exactly what they meant and what has been
+done?'</p>
+
+<p>'If I could remember any transactions with them during the last six
+months. But I cannot, except a small purchase of Corporation stock last
+month&mdash;a few hundreds. And here are the papers belonging to that.'</p>
+
+<p>'Which of the partners do you deal with?'</p>
+
+<p>'The old man, Ellis&mdash;he's always acted for me. He has been my friend for
+close on fifty years.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I will send for him, and tell him to come as soon as possible,
+and to bring along with him all the letters and papers he has.'</p>
+
+<p>'Good, good,' said Mr. Dering, more cheerfully. 'That is practical. I
+ought to have thought of that at the very outset. Now we shall get
+along. The first thing is to arrive at the facts&mdash;then we can act. If it
+was another man's case, I should have known what to do. But when it is
+your own&mdash;and to lose the certificates, and when a sum of nearly forty
+thousand pounds is at stake&mdash;it looks like losing the money itself&mdash;and
+the feeling of uncertainty&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'All taken together, becomes rather overwhelming. Of course I should
+like to see the letter-book, and we must run through the letters to see
+if they throw any light upon the business. Perhaps the papers themselves
+may be found among them.'</p>
+
+<p>The presence of this young man, cheerful, decided, taking practical
+measures at once, cheered up the lawyer, and steadied his shattered
+nerves. But Checkley the clerk looked on gloomily. He replaced the
+papers in the safe, and stood beside it, as if to guard it; he followed
+the movements of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> new partner with watchful, suspicious eyes; and he
+muttered sullenly between his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>First George sent a telegram to the City for the broker. Then, while the
+old clerk still stood beside the safe, and Mr. Dering continued to show
+signs of agitation uncontrollable, sometimes walking about the room and
+sometimes sitting at his table, sometimes looking into the empty shelves
+of the safe, he began to look through the copied letters, those, that
+is, which had gone out of Mr. Dering's office. He searched for six
+months, working backwards.</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing for six months,' he said.&mdash;'Checkley, give me the letters.' He
+went through these. They were the letters received at the office, all
+filed, endorsed, and dated. There was not one during the letters of six
+months which he examined which had anything to do with the sales of
+stocks and shares.</p>
+
+<p>'If,' he said, 'you had written to Ellis &amp; Northcote, a copy of your
+letter would be here in this book. If they had written to you, these
+letters would be among these bundles. Very well. Since no such letters
+are here, it is clear that no such letters were written. Therefore, no
+sales.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then,' said Mr. Dering, 'where are my certificates? Where are my
+dividends?'</p>
+
+<p>'That we shall see. At present, we are only getting at the facts.'</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Ellis, senior partner of Ellis &amp; Northcote, arrived, bearing a
+small packet of papers. Everybody knew Mr. Ellis, of Ellis &amp; Northcote,
+one of the most respectable stockbrokers in London&mdash;citizen and Lorimer.
+He belonged eminently to the class called worthy: an old gentleman,
+carefully dressed, of smooth and polished appearance, pleasing manners,
+and great integrity. Nobody could look more truly <i>integer vit&aelig;</i> than
+Mr. Ellis. Nor did his private practice belie his reputation and his
+appearance. His chin and lips looked as if they could not possibly
+endure the burden of beard or moustache; his sentiments, one observed at
+a glance, would certainly be such as one expects from a citizen of his
+respectability.</p>
+
+<p>'Here I am, dear sir,' he said cheerfully&mdash;'here I am, in immediate
+obedience to your summons. I hope that there is nothing wrong; though
+your request that I would bring with me certain papers certainly made me
+a little apprehensive.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'There is, I fear, a good deal wrong,' said Mr. Dering. 'Sit down, my
+old friend.&mdash;Give Mr. Ellis a chair, Checkley.&mdash;Austin, you will tell
+him what he wants to know.'</p>
+
+<p>'You wrote to Mr. Dering yesterday recommending a certain
+investment&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I certainly did. A very favourable opportunity it is, and a capital
+thing it will prove.'</p>
+
+<p>'You mentioned in your letter certain transfers and sales which,
+according to your letter, he had recently effected.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly.'</p>
+
+<p>'What sales were they?'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ellis looked at his papers. 'February last&mdash;sale of various stock,
+all duly enumerated here, to the value of 6,500<i>l</i>. March last, sale of
+various stock, also all duly enumerated, to the value of 12,000<i>l</i>. odd.
+April last, sale of stock to the value of 20,000<i>l</i>.&mdash;more or
+less&mdash;realising&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'You note the dates and amounts, Austin?' said Mr. Dering.</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly; we will, however, get the dates and the amounts more exactly
+in a moment.&mdash;Now, Mr. Ellis, of course you received instructions with
+the papers themselves. Were they in writing or by word of mouth?'</p>
+
+<p>'In writing. By letters written by Mr. Dering himself.'</p>
+
+<p>'Have you got these letters with you?'</p>
+
+<p>'Everything is here, and in proper order.' He laid his hand upon the
+papers. 'Here, for instance, is the first letter, dated February 14,
+relating to these transactions.&mdash;You will no doubt remember it, Mr.
+Dering.' He took up a letter, and read it aloud: '"<span class="smcap">My dear Ellis</span>,&mdash;I
+enclose a bundle of certificates and shares. They amount to somewhere
+about 6,500<i>l</i>. at current price. Will you have these transferred to the
+name of Edmund Gray, gentleman, of 22 South Square, Gray's Inn? Mr.
+Edmund Gray is a client, and I will have the amount paid to my account
+by him. Send me, therefore, the transfer papers and the account showing
+the amount due to me by him, together with your commission.&mdash;Very
+sincerely yours, <span class="smcap">Edward Dering</span>." That is the letter. The proceeding is
+not usual, yet not irregular. If, for instance, we had been instructed
+to buy stock for Mr. Dering&mdash;&mdash; But of course you know.'</p>
+
+<p>'Pardon me,' said George. 'I am not so much accustomed to buy stock as
+my partner. Will you go on?'</p>
+
+<p>'We should have done so, and sent our client the bill for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> the amount
+with our commission. If we had been instructed to sell, we should have
+paid in to Mr. Dering's bank the amount realised less our commission. A
+transfer is another kind of work. Mr. Dering transferred this stock to
+Edmund Gray, his client. It was therefore for him to settle with his
+client the charges for the transfer and the value of the stock. We
+therefore sent a bill for these charges. It was sent by hand, and a
+cheque was received by return of the messenger.'</p>
+
+<p>George received the letter from him, examined it, and laid it before his
+partner.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Mr. Dering read the letter, held it to the Checkley.</p>
+
+<p>'If anybody knows my handwriting,' he said, 'it ought to be you. Whose
+writing is that?'</p>
+
+<p>'It looks like yours. But there is a trembling in the letters. It is not
+so firm as the most of your work. I should call it yours; but I see by
+your face that it is not.'</p>
+
+<p>'No; it is not my writing. I did not write that letter. This is the
+first I have heard of the contents of that letter.&mdash;Look at the
+signature, Checkley. Two clots are wanting after the word Dering, and
+the flourish after the last "n" is curtailed of half its usual
+dimensions. Did you ever know me to alter my signature by a single
+curve?'</p>
+
+<p>'Never,' Checkley replied. 'Two clots wanting and half a flourish.&mdash;Go
+on, sir; I've just thought of something. But go on.'</p>
+
+<p>'You don't mean to say that this letter is a forgery?' asked Mr. Ellis.
+'Why&mdash;then&mdash;&mdash; Oh! it is impossible. It must then be the beginning of a
+whole series of forgeries. It's quite impossible to credit it. The
+letter came from this office: the post-mark shows it was posted in this
+district: the answer was sent here. The transfers&mdash;consider&mdash;the
+transfers were posted to this office. They came back duly signed and
+witnessed&mdash;from this office. I forwarded the certificate made out in the
+name of Edmund Gray&mdash;to this office: and I got an acknowledgment&mdash;from
+this office. I sent the account of the transaction with my commission
+charges&mdash;to this office, and got a cheque for the latter&mdash;from this
+office. How can such a complicated business as this&mdash;only the first of
+these transactions&mdash;be a forgery? Why, you want a dozen confederates at
+least for such a job as this.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'I do not quite understand yet,' said George, inexperienced in the
+transfer of stocks and shares.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I cannot sell stock without the owner's authority; he must sign a
+transfer. But if I receive a commission from a lawyer to transfer his
+stock to a client, it is not my business to ask whether he receives the
+money or not.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;yes. And is there nothing to show for the sale of this 6,000<i>l</i>.
+worth of paper?' George asked Mr. Dering.</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing at all. The letters and everything are a forgery.'</p>
+
+<p>'And you, Mr. Ellis, received a cheque for your commission?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly.'</p>
+
+<p>'Get me the old cheques and the cheque-book,' said Mr. Dering. The
+cheque was drawn, as the letter was written, in Mr. Dering's
+handwriting, but with the slight difference he had pointed out in the
+signature.</p>
+
+<p>'You are quite sure,' asked George, 'that you did not sign that cheque?'</p>
+
+<p>'I am perfectly certain that I did not.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then as for this Edmund Gray of 22 South Square, Gray's Inn&mdash;what do
+you know about him?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing at all&mdash;absolutely nothing.'</p>
+
+<p>'I know something,' said Checkley. 'But go on&mdash;go on.'</p>
+
+<p>'He may be a non-existent person, for what you know.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. I know nothing about any Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wait a bit,' murmured Checkley.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, but'&mdash;Mr. Ellis went on&mdash;'this was only a beginning. In March you
+wrote to me again; that is to say, I received a letter purporting to be
+from you. In this letter&mdash;here it is&mdash;you instructed me to transfer
+certain stock&mdash;the papers of which you enclosed&mdash;amounting to about
+12,000<i>l</i>.&mdash;to Edmund Gray aforesaid. In the same way as before the
+transfer papers were sent to you for signature: in the same way as
+before they were signed and returned: and in the same way as before the
+commission was charged to you and paid by you. It was exactly the same
+transaction as before&mdash;only for double the sum involved in the February
+business.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering took the second letter and looked at it with a kind of
+patient resignation. 'I know nothing about it,' he said&mdash;'nothing at
+all.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'There was a third and last transaction,' said the broker, 'this time in
+April. Here is the letter written by you with instructions exactly the
+same as in the previous cases, but dealing with the stock to the amount
+of 19,000<i>l</i>., which we duly carried out, and for which we received your
+cheque&mdash;for commission.'</p>
+
+<p>'Every one of these letters&mdash;every signature of mine to transfer papers
+and to cheques&mdash;was a forgery,' said Mr. Dering slowly. 'I have no
+client named Edmund Gray: I know no one of the name: I never received
+any money from the transfers: these investments are stolen.'</p>
+
+<p>'Let me look at the letters again,' said George. He examined them
+carefully, comparing them with each other. 'They are so wonderfully
+forged that they would deceive the most careful. I should not hesitate,
+myself, to swear to the handwriting.'</p>
+
+<p>It has already been explained that Mr. Dering's handwriting was of a
+kind which is not uncommon with those who write a good deal. The
+unimportant words were conveyed by a curve, with or without a tail,
+while the really important words were clearly written. The signature,
+however, was large, distinct, and florid&mdash;the signature of the House,
+which had been flourishing for a hundred years and more, a signature
+which had never varied.</p>
+
+<p>'Look at it,' said George again. 'Who would not swear to this writing?'</p>
+
+<p>'I would for one,' said Mr. Ellis. 'And I have known it for forty years
+and more.&mdash;If that is not your own writing, Dering, it is the very
+finest imitation ever made.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't think my memory can be quite gone.&mdash;Checkley, have we ever had
+a client named Edmund Gray?'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;never. But you've forgotten one thing. That forgery eight years
+ago&mdash;the cheque of 720<i>l</i>.&mdash;was payable to the order of Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah! So it was. This seems important.'</p>
+
+<p>'Most important,' said George. 'The forger could not possibly by
+accident choose the same name. This cannot be coincidence. Have you the
+forged cheque?'</p>
+
+<p>'I have always kept it,' Mr. Dering replied, 'on the chance of using it
+to prove the crime and convict the criminal. You will find it, Checkley,
+in the right-hand drawer of the safe. Thank you. Here it is. "Pay to the
+order of Edmund<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> Gray;" and here is his endorsement. So we have his
+handwriting at any rate.'</p>
+
+<p>George took it. 'Strange,' he said. 'I should without any hesitation
+swear to your handwriting here as well. And look&mdash;the signature to the
+cheque is exactly the same as that of these letters. The two dots
+missing after the name, and the flourish after the last "n" curtailed.'</p>
+
+<p>It was so. The handwriting of the cheque and of the letters was the
+same: the signatures were slightly, but systematically, altered in
+exactly the same way in both letters and cheque.</p>
+
+<p>'This again,' said George, 'can hardly be coincidence. It seems to me
+that the man who wrote that cheque also wrote those letters.'</p>
+
+<p>The endorsement was in a hand which might also be taken for Mr. Dering's
+own. Nothing to be got out of the endorsement.</p>
+
+<p>'But about the transfer papers,' said George. 'They would have to be
+witnessed as well as signed.'</p>
+
+<p>'They were witnessed,' said the broker, 'by a clerk named Lorry.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, we have such a man in our office.&mdash;Checkley, send for Lorry.'</p>
+
+<p>Lorry was a clerk employed in Mr. Dering's outer office. Being
+interrogated, he said that he had no recollection of witnessing a
+signature for a transfer paper. He had witnessed many signatures, but
+was not informed what the papers were. Asked if he remembered especially
+witnessing any signature in February, March, or April, he replied that
+he could not remember any, but that he had witnessed a great many
+signatures: that sometimes Mr. Dering wanted him to witness his own
+signature, sometimes those of clients. If he were shown his signature he
+might remember. Lorry, therefore, was allowed to depart to his own
+place.</p>
+
+<p>'There can be no longer any doubt,' said George, 'that an attempt has
+been made at a robbery on a very large scale.'</p>
+
+<p>'An attempt only?' Mr. Dering asked. 'Where are my certificates?'</p>
+
+<p>'I say attempt, because you can't really steal stock. Dividends are only
+paid to those who lawfully possess it. This Edmund Gray we can find, if
+he exists. I take it, however, that he does not. It is probably a name
+assumed by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> forger. And I suppose that he has made haste to sell his
+stock. Whether or no, you will certainly recover your property. People
+may as well steal a field as steal stocks and shares.'</p>
+
+<p>'We can easily find out for you,' said Mr. Ellis, 'what has become of
+your paper.'</p>
+
+<p>'If the thieves have kept it,' George went on, 'all they could make
+would be the dividends for five months. That, however, is only because
+the Bank-book was not examined for so long. They could not reckon upon
+such an unusual stroke of luck. It seems almost certain that they must
+get rid of the stock as quickly as they could. Suppose that they have
+realised the whole amount. It is an immense sum of money. It would have
+to be paid by cheque into a bank: the holder could only draw out the
+money gradually: he might, to be sure, go to America and have the whole
+amount transferred, but that would not help him much unless he could
+draw it out in small sums payable to confederates. In fact, the robbery
+seems to me hedged about with difficulties almost impossible.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is the most extraordinary attempt at robbery that ever was,' said
+Mr. Ellis. 'Thirty-eight thousand pounds in shares. Well, I will find
+out for you if they have been sold and to whom. Meantime, my old friend,
+don't you be down-hearted about it. As Mr. Austin says, you will
+certainly get your property back again. What? We live in a civilised
+country. We cannot have large sums like 40,000<i>l</i>. stolen bodily.
+Property isn't kept any longer in bags of gold. Bank notes, banks,
+investments, all tend to make great robberies impossible. Courage; you
+will get back your property.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering shook his head doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>'There is another chance,' George suggested. 'One has heard of robberies
+effected with the view of blackmail afterwards. Suppose we were to get a
+letter offering the whole to be returned for a certain sum.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no. It is now four months since the thing was done. They have sold
+out the stock and disappeared&mdash;gone to America, as you suggested. Why,
+the things may have been sold a dozen times over in the interval. That
+is the danger. Suppose they <i>have</i> been sold a dozen times over.
+Consider. Here is a share in the Great Western. I transfer it from A to
+B. Very good. The share now belongs to B, and stands in his name whether
+honestly come by or not. B sends it to another broker, who sells it to
+C. He, again, to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> D. Every transaction is right and in form except the
+first. You can trace the share from owner to owner. B has vanished. A
+says to C: "You bought that share of a thief." C says: "Very sorry. How
+was I to know? D has got it now." D says that it is his, and he will
+stick to it. We go to law about the share. What is going to happen? Upon
+my word, I don't know. Well&mdash;but this is only conjecture. Let me first
+find out what has become of the shares. Of course there is a record, to
+which I have only to refer. I will let you know by to-morrow morning, if
+I can.'</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Ellis was gone, George began to sum up, for the clearing of his
+own mind, the ascertained facts of the case, so far as they had got.</p>
+
+<p>'First,' he said, 'the letters to Ellis and Northcote were written on
+our headed paper. Clearly, therefore, the writer must have had access to
+the office. Next, he knew and could copy your handwriting. Third, he was
+able to intercept the delivery of letters, and to prevent your getting
+any he wished to stop, because the correspondence was conducted openly
+through the post. That seems to be a very important point. Fourth, the
+letters were all, apparently, in your handwriting, very skilfully
+imitated, instead of being dictated and then signed. Fifth, he must at
+least have known of the last forgery, or how did he arrive at the name
+of Edmund Gray?' And was it out of devilry and mockery, because that
+forgery escaped detection, that he used the name again? Sixth, he must
+have had access to the safe where the cheque-book (as well as the
+certificates) was kept. Seventh, he must have known the office pretty
+well, or how did he find out the names of your brokers? Eighth, the
+handwriting appeared to be exactly the same as that of the former
+forgery.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is the same as last time,' said Checkley. 'That forgery was done in
+the office, if ever a thing was done here. Same with this&mdash;same with
+this. Well&mdash;time will show. Same with this.' He glared from under his
+great eyebrows at the young partner, as if he suspected that the young
+gentleman could throw some light upon that mystery if he wished.</p>
+
+<p>'We have given Time long enough to discover the author of the last
+business,' said Mr. Dering; 'but he has not chosen to do so as yet. The
+loss of property,' he groaned&mdash;'the loss of close on forty thousand
+pounds.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't believe it is lost,' said George. 'It can't be lost.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> It is a
+bit of a railway&mdash;part of a reservoir&mdash;a corner of the gas-works&mdash;you
+can't lose these things&mdash;unless, indeed, the difficulty suggested by Mr.
+Ellis occurs.'</p>
+
+<p>Here Mr. Dering pushed back his chair and began again to walk about the
+room in restless agitation. He was no longer the grave and serious
+lawyer; he became one of his own clients, lamenting, as they had so
+often lamented in that room, the greatness of his misfortune. He uttered
+the actual commonplaces of men in distress&mdash;there is a dreadful sameness
+about the Lamentations of Ill Luck. We all know them&mdash;the hardness of
+the thing: the injustice of it: the impossibility of warding it off: his
+own sagacity in taking every precaution: the dreadfulness of being
+singled out of a whole generation for exceptional misfortune. Mr. Dering
+himself, the grave, calm, reserved old lawyer, who seemed made of
+granite, broke down under the blow and became an ordinary human
+creature. In the lower walks, they weep. Checkley would have wept. Mr.
+Dering became eloquent, wrathful, sarcastic. No retired General who has
+ruined himself by gambling in stocks could so bemoan his luck. George
+listened, saying nothing. It was an experience. No man so strong but has
+his weak point. No man is completely armoured against the arrows of
+fate.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he grew a little more calm, and sat down. 'Forgive me,
+George,' he said gently&mdash;'forgive this outbreak. There is more in the
+business than you know of. I feel as if I know something about it, but
+can't bring it out. I am growing so forgetful&mdash;I forget whole days&mdash;I am
+filled with the feeling that I ought to know about it. As for the loss,
+what I have said is true. You do not yet feel as I do about Property.
+You are too young: you have not got any Property yet. Wait a few
+years&mdash;then you will be able to agree with me that there is nothing in
+the world so hard as to lose your Property&mdash;the Property that you have
+made&mdash;by your own exertions&mdash;for yourself.'</p>
+
+<p>'Now you talk like yourself,' said Checkley. 'That's sense. Nothing so
+dreadful as to lose Property. It's enough to kill people, it has killed
+many people.'</p>
+
+<p>'Property means everything. You understand that the more the older you
+get.'</p>
+
+<p>'You do,' echoed Checkley. 'There's nothing in the world worth
+considering except Property.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'It means&mdash;remember&mdash;all the virtues&mdash;prudence&mdash;courage&mdash;quick
+sight&mdash;self-restraint&mdash;tenacity&mdash;all the fighting qualities. We do well
+to honour rich men. I hoped to receive honour myself as a rich man. When
+you have put together a few thousands&mdash;by the exercise of these finer
+qualities, so that the thought of this gives you dignity&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah!' cried Checkley, straightening himself.</p>
+
+<p>'To feel that they are gone&mdash;gone&mdash;gone&mdash;it is cruel.&mdash;George, you don't
+understand it. You are young: as yet you have no money.&mdash;Checkley, you
+have saved&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Me? Oh! A trifle, a trifle.' But he covered his mouth with his hand to
+conceal the smile of satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>'You are reputed rich.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no&mdash;no. Not rich. My chances have been few. I have not let them go.
+But rich? No&mdash;no.'</p>
+
+<p>'How would you regard the loss&mdash;the robbery of your property&mdash;Checkley?'</p>
+
+<p>The old clerk shook his head. He had no words adequate to the question.</p>
+
+<p>'Apart from the loss,' Mr. Dering went on, 'there is the sense of
+insecurity. I felt it once before when the other forgery took place.
+There seems no safety anywhere. Papers that I keep in my private safe,
+to which no one has a key but myself, which I never leave open if I
+leave the room even to go into another room, are taken. Cheque-books
+which I keep there are taken out and cheques stolen. Finally, things are
+put in&mdash;the bundle of notes&mdash;for instance. I say that I feel a sense of
+helplessness, as if everything might be taken from me and I should be
+powerless to resist.'</p>
+
+<p>'Let us first get back the certificates,' said George, 'and we will find
+out and defeat this gang, if it is a gang, of confederates. Yes&mdash;it is
+as you say&mdash;the ground itself seems sinking beneath one's feet&mdash;when
+one's own investments are sold for nothing by a letter so like your own
+writing that it would deceive anybody.'</p>
+
+<p>'Done in the office,' Checkley murmured&mdash;'in the office. Same as last
+time. Well&mdash;we shall find him&mdash;we shall find him.' He began to bundle
+the papers back into the safe, murmuring: 'Same as last time&mdash;done in
+the office&mdash;we shall find him&mdash;we shall find him. We found him before,
+and we'll find him now.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FIRST FIND</h3>
+
+<p>'Yes,' said George thoughtfully, 'a day or two ought to unravel this
+matter. We must first, however, before going to the Police, find out as
+much as we can ourselves. Let me take up the case by myself for a bit.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no,' Checkley grumbled. 'Police first. Catch the man first.'</p>
+
+<p>'Put aside everything,' said the Chief, 'everything, George. Forget
+everything until you have found out the mystery of the conspiracy.'</p>
+
+<p>'It looks to me like a Long Firm,' George went on&mdash;'a Long Firm with a
+sham name and a respectable address. Of course there is no such person,
+really, as Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is not only the loss&mdash;perhaps, let us hope'&mdash;Mr. Dering
+sighed&mdash;'only a temporary loss; if a real loss, then a most terrible
+blow&mdash;not only that, but it is the sense of insecurity. No one ever
+found out about that cheque&mdash;and here are the notes in the safe all the
+time.'</p>
+
+<p>'He put 'em in,' said Checkley.</p>
+
+<p>'This is the second time&mdash;and the same name still&mdash;Edmund Gray. It fills
+me with uneasiness&mdash;I am terrified, George. I know not what may be the
+next blow&mdash;what may be taken from me&mdash;my mortgages&mdash;my houses&mdash;my
+land&mdash;everything. Go. I can do the work of the office&mdash;all the work&mdash;by
+myself. But this work I cannot do. I am not able to think about it.
+These thoughts overpower me and cloud my reason.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well,' said George, 'I will do what I can. I don't suppose there is any
+Edmund Gray at all: but one must try to find out. There can be no harm
+in paying a visit to Gray's Inn. If the thing had been done yesterday,
+it would be necessary to strike at once with a warrant for the arrest of
+the said Edmund Gray. As it is four months since the last robbery, there
+can be small harm in the delay of a day or two. I will go and inquire a
+little.'</p>
+
+<p>Nothing easier than to inquire. There was the man's address: everybody
+knows Gray's Inn: everybody knows South<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> Square. The place is only ten
+minutes' walk from Lincoln's Inn. George took his hat, walked over and
+proceeded straight to No. 22, expecting to find no such name on the
+door-posts. On the contrary, there it was. '2nd Floor, Mr. Edmund Gray,'
+among the other occupants of the staircase. He mounted the stairs. On
+the second floor right was the name over the door, 'Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+But the outer door was closed. That is a sign that the tenant of the
+Chambers is either not at home or not visible. On the first floor were
+the offices of a Firm of Solicitors. He sent in his card. The name of
+Dering and Son commands the respectful attention of every solicitor in
+London. One of the partners received him. The firm of Dering and Son was
+anxious to see Mr. Edmund Gray, who had the Chambers overhead. At what
+hours was Mr. Edmund Gray generally in his rooms? Nobody knew, not
+either of the partners, not any of the clerks. He might have been met
+going up and down the stairs, but nobody knew him by sight or anything
+about him. This at first sight seemed suspicious; afterwards George
+reflected that men may live for years on the same staircase and never
+know anything about each other. Men who live in Gray's Inn do not visit
+each other: there is little neighbourly spirit among men in Chambers,
+but rather an unspoken distrust.</p>
+
+<p>'But,' said the partner, 'I can tell you who is his landlord. He does
+not take the rooms of the Inn direct, but as we do, from one who has
+several sets on a long lease, and sublets the rooms. They may know
+something about the man at the Steward's office across the Square. If
+not, the landlord will certainly know.'</p>
+
+<p>George asked if Edmund Gray was newly arrived. No. It appeared that he
+had been in the Inn for a long time. 'But then,' his informant added,
+'he may have been here a hundred years for all we know: we never think
+of our neighbours in Chambers. Opposite is a man whose name has been
+over the door as long as I can remember anything. I don't know who he is
+or what is his business. I don't even know him by sight. So with Mr.
+Edmund Gray. If I were to meet him on the stairs, I should not be any
+the wiser. You see, I am only here in the daytime. Now, the other man on
+the second floor I do know something about, because he is a coach and
+was a Fellow of my College. And the man in the garrets I hear about
+occasionally, because he is an old barrister who sometimes defends a
+prisoner.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At the Steward's office George put the same question. 'I am a
+solicitor,' he said. 'Here is my card. I am most anxious to see Mr.
+Edmund Gray, of No. 22. Could you save me time by letting me know at
+what hour he is in his Chambers?'</p>
+
+<p>They could tell him nothing. Mr. Gray was not a tenant of the Inn. Very
+likely he was a residential tenant who came home in the evenings after
+business.</p>
+
+<p>Everything learned is a step gained. Whether Edmund Gray was a man or a
+Long Firm, the name had been on the door for many years. But&mdash;many
+years?&mdash;could a confederacy of swindlers go on for many years,
+especially if they undertook such mighty schemes for plunder as this
+business?</p>
+
+<p>Next he went to the address of the landlord. He was a house agent in
+Bloomsbury, and apparently a person of respectability.</p>
+
+<p>'If you could tell me,' George began with the same question, 'at what
+hours I could find your tenant in his Chambers; or if you could give me
+his business address, we should be very greatly obliged. We want to find
+him at once&mdash;to-day, if possible, on very important business.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I am sorry, very sorry&mdash;but&mdash;in fact, I don't know anything about
+my tenant's hours, nor can I give you his place of business. I believe
+he has no business.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! But you took him as a tenant. You must have had some references.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. And upon that I can satisfy you very shortly.' He opened a
+great book and turned over the pages. 'Here it is&mdash;to No. 22, South
+Square, Gray's Inn, Second floor, north side&mdash;Edmund Gray, gentleman.
+Rent 40<i>l</i>. a year. Date of taking the rooms, February, 1882, at the
+half-quarter. Reference, Messrs. Dering and Son, Solicitors, New Square,
+Lincoln's Inn.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why&mdash;you mean that he referred to us&mdash;to Messrs. Dering and Son&mdash;in the
+year 1882!'</p>
+
+<p>'That is so. Would you like to see the letter which we received on
+application? Wait a moment.' He rang the bell, and a clerk appeared, to
+whom he gave instructions. 'I am bound to say,' the landlord went on,
+'that a more satisfactory tenant than Mr. Gray does not exist. He pays
+his rent regularly by Post-office order every quarter, on the day before
+quarter day.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Oh! I wonder&mdash;&mdash;' But he stopped, because to begin wondering is always
+futile, especially at so early a stage. When there are already
+accumulated facts to go upon, and not till then, wondering becomes the
+putting together of the puzzle.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, here is the letter. "Gentlemen"'&mdash;the house agent read the letter
+received on application to the reference-'"In reply to your letter of
+the 13th, we beg to inform you that Mr. Edmund Gray is a client of ours,
+a gentleman of independent means, and that he is quite able to pay any
+reasonable rent for residence or Chambers.&mdash;Your obedient servants,
+<span class="smcap">Dering and Son</span>."&mdash;I suppose,' he added, 'that a man doesn't want a
+better reference than your own?'</p>
+
+<p>'No; certainly not.' George looked at the letter. It presented as to
+handwriting exactly the same points of likeness and of difference as all
+the other letters in this strange case: the body of the letter
+apparently written in the hand of Mr. Dering; that is, so as to deceive
+everybody: the signature, with one or two small omissions. 'Certainly
+not,' he repeated. 'With such a reference, of course, you did not
+hesitate. Did you ever see Mr. Gray?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. I have seen him often. First when he was getting his rooms
+furnished, and afterwards on various occasions.'</p>
+
+<p>'What kind of a man is he to look at?'</p>
+
+<p>'Elderly. Not exactly the kind of man you'd expect to have Chambers.
+Mostly, they're young ones who like the freedom. An elderly gentleman:
+pleasant in his manners: smiling and affable: gray-haired.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' Then there was a real Edmund Gray of ten years' standing in the
+Inn, who lived or had Chambers at the number stated in the forged
+letters.</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose,' said the house agent, 'that my respectable tenant has not
+done anything bad?'</p>
+
+<p>'N-no&mdash;not to my knowledge. His name occurs in rather a disagreeable
+case. Would you be so very kind as to let him know, in case you should
+meet him&mdash;but of course we shall write to him&mdash;that we are most anxious
+to see him?'</p>
+
+<p>This the landlord readily promised. 'There is another person,' he said,
+'who can tell you a great deal more than anybody else. That is his
+laundress. I don't know who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> looks after him, but you can find out at
+the Inn. The policeman will know. Go and ask him.'</p>
+
+<p>In the game of battledore and shuttlecock, the latter has no chance
+except to take the thing coolly, without temper. George was the
+shuttlecock. He was hit back into Gray's Inn&mdash;this time into the arms of
+the policeman.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, sir,' said the guardian of the peace, 'I do not know anything
+about the gentleman myself. If he was one of the noisy ones, I should
+know him. But he isn't, and therefore I have never heard of him. But if
+he lives at No. 22, I can tell you who does his rooms; and it's old Mrs.
+Cripps, and she lives in Leather Lane.'</p>
+
+<p>This street, which is now, comparatively speaking, purged and cleansed,
+is not yet quite the ideal spot for one who would have pure air and
+cleanliness combined with godliness of conversation. However, individual
+liberty is nowhere more absolutely free and uncontrolled than in Leather
+Lane.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cripps lived on the top floor, nearest to Heaven, of which she
+ought to be thinking because she was now old and near her end. She was
+so old that she was quite past her work, and only kept on Mr. Gray's
+rooms because he never slept there, and they gave her no trouble except
+to go to them in the morning with a duster and to drop asleep for an
+hour or so. What her one gentleman gave her, moreover, was all she had
+to live upon.</p>
+
+<p>Though the morning was warm, she was sitting over the fire watching a
+small pan, in which she was stewing a savoury mess, consisting of a
+'block ornament' with onions, carrots, and turnips. Perhaps she was
+thinking&mdash;the poor old soul&mdash;of the days gone by&mdash;gone by for fifty
+years&mdash;when she was young and wore a feather in her hat. Old ladies of
+her class do not think much about vanished beauty, but they think a good
+deal about vanished feathers and vanished hats: they remember the old
+free carriage in the streets with the young friends, and the careless
+laugh, and the ready jest. It is the ancient gentlewoman who remembers
+the vanished beauty, and thinks of what she was fifty years ago.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cripps heard a step on the narrow stair leading to her room&mdash;a
+manly step. It mounted higher and more slowly, because the stairs were
+dark as well as narrow. Then the visitor's hat knocked against the door.
+He opened it, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> stood there looking in. A gentleman! Not a District
+Visitor or a Sister trying to persuade her to early Church&mdash;nor yet the
+clergyman&mdash;a young gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>'You are Mrs. Cripps?' he asked. 'The policeman at Gray's Inn directed
+me here. You are laundress, I believe, to Mr. Edmund Gray of No. 22?'</p>
+
+<p>'Suppose I am, sir,' she replied suspiciously. A laundress is like the
+Hall Porter of a Club: you must not ask her about any of her gentlemen.</p>
+
+<p>'I have called to see Mr. Edmund Gray on very important business. I
+found his door shut. Will you kindly tell me at what hours he is
+generally in his Chambers?'</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head: but she held out her hand.</p>
+
+<p>The young gentleman placed half a sovereign in her palm. Her fingers
+closed over the coin. She clutched it, and she hid it away in some
+secret fold of her ragged dress. There is no woman so ragged, so
+dropping to pieces with shreds and streamers and tatters, but she can
+find a safe hiding-place, somewhere in her rags, for a coin or for
+anything else that is small or precious.</p>
+
+<p>'I never tell tales about my gentlemen,' she said, 'especially when they
+are young and handsome, like you. A pore laundress has eyes and ears and
+hands, but she hasn't got a tongue. If she had, there might be terrible,
+terrible trouble. Oh! dear&mdash;yes. But Mr. Gray isn't a young gentleman.
+He's old, and it isn't the same thing.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then,' said George, 'how and when can I find him?'</p>
+
+<p>'I was coming to that. You can't find him. Sometimes he comes, and
+sometimes he doesn't come.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! He doesn't live in the rooms, then!'</p>
+
+<p>'No. He doesn't live in the rooms. He uses the rooms sometimes.'</p>
+
+<p>'What does he use them for?'</p>
+
+<p>'How should I know? All the gentlemen do things with pens and paper. How
+should I know what they do? They make their money with their pens and
+paper. I dun know how they do it. I suppose Mr. Gray is making his money
+like the rest of them.'</p>
+
+<p>Oh! he goes to the Chambers and writes?'</p>
+
+<p>'Sometimes it's weeks and weeks and months and months before he comes at
+all. But always my money regular and beforehand sent in an envelope and
+a postal order.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Well, what is his private address? I suppose he lives in the country?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know where he lives. I know nothing about him. I go there every
+morning, and I do the room. That's all I know.'</p>
+
+<p>There was no more information to be obtained. Sometimes he came to the
+Inn; sometimes he stayed away for weeks and weeks, and for months and
+months.</p>
+
+<p>'I might ha' told you more, young gentleman,' murmured the old woman,
+'and I might ha' told you less. P'raps you'll come again.'</p>
+
+<p>He went back to Lincoln's Inn, and set down his facts.</p>
+
+<p>First, there was a forgery in the year 1882, in which the name of Edmund
+Gray was used. Next, in the series of forgeries just discovered, not
+only was the name of Edmund Gray used throughout, but the handwriting of
+the letters and cheques was exactly the same as that of the first
+cheque, with the same peculiarities in the signature. This could hardly
+be a coincidence. The same man must have written the whole.</p>
+
+<p>Then, who was Edmund Gray?</p>
+
+<p>He was a real personage&mdash;a living man&mdash;not a Firm&mdash;one known to the
+landlord of the Chambers, and to the laundress, if to nobody else. He
+did not live in the Chambers, but he used them for some business
+purposes; he sometimes called there and wrote. What did he write? Where
+was he, and what was he doing, when he was not at the Chambers? He might
+be one&mdash;leader or follower&mdash;of some secret gang. One has read of such
+gangs, especially in French novels, where the leaders are noble Dukes of
+the first rank, and Princesses&mdash;young, lovely, of the highest fashion.
+Why should there not be such a gang in London? Clever conspirators could
+go a very long way before they were even suspected. In this civilisation
+of cheques and registered shares and official transfers, property is so
+much defended that it is difficult to break through the armour. But
+there must be weak places in that armour. It must be possible for the
+wit of man to devise some plan by means of which property can be
+attacked successfully. Had he struck such a conspiracy?</p>
+
+<p>Thus. A man calling himself Edmund Gray gets a lease of Chambers by
+means of a forged letter in answer to a reference. It is convenient for
+certain conspirators, hereinafter called the company, to have an
+address, though it may<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> never be used. The conspiracy begins by forging
+a cheque to his order for 720<i>l</i>. That was at the outset, when the
+conspirators were young. It was found dangerous, and the notes were
+therefore replaced in the safe. Note, that the company, through one or
+other of its members, has access to that safe. This might perhaps be by
+means of a key&mdash;in the evening, after office hours: or by some one who
+was about the place all day.</p>
+
+<p>Very good. The continued connection of some member of the Firm with
+Dering and Son is proved by the subsequent proceedings. After eight
+years, the company having matured their machinery, and perhaps worked
+out with success other enterprises, return to their first quarry, where
+they have the advantage of access to the letters, and can look over
+their disposition. They are thus enabled to conduct their successive
+<i>coups</i>, each bigger than the one before. And for four months the thing
+remains undiscovered. Having the certificates in their hands, what was
+to prevent them from selling the whole and dividing the proceeds?
+Nothing. Yet, in such a case they would disappear, and here was Edmund
+Gray still fearlessly at large. Why had he not got clear away long
+before?</p>
+
+<p>Again&mdash;all the correspondence concerning Edmund Gray was carried on
+between the office and the brokers. There were no letters from Edmund
+Gray at all. Suppose it should be found impossible to connect Edmund
+Gray with the transactions carried on in his name. Suppose the real
+Edmund Gray were to deny any knowledge at all of the transactions.
+Suppose he were to say that ten years before he had brought a letter of
+introduction to Mr. Dering, and knew nothing more about him. Well&mdash;but
+the certificates themselves&mdash;what about them? Their possession would
+have to be accounted for. So he turned the matter over and over and
+arrived at nothing, not even the next step to take.</p>
+
+<p>He went back to the Chief and reported what he had discovered: the
+existence of an Edmund Gray&mdash;the letter of recommendation to the
+landlord. 'Another forgery,' groaned Mr. Dering.</p>
+
+<p>'It is done in the office,' said George. 'It is all done in the
+office&mdash;letters&mdash;cheques&mdash;everything.'</p>
+
+<p>'The office,' Checkley repeated. 'No doubt about it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Give up everything else, George,' said Mr. Dering eagerly 'everything
+else. Find out&mdash;find out. Employ detectives.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> Spend money as much as you
+please. I am on a volcano&mdash;I know not what may be taken from me next.
+Only find out, my partner, my dear partner&mdash;find out.'</p>
+
+<p>When George was gone, Checkley went after him and opened the door
+mysteriously, to assure himself that no one was listening.</p>
+
+<p>'What are you going on like that for, Checkley?' asked his master
+irritably. 'Is it another forgery? It rains forgeries.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no. Look here. Don't trouble too much about it. Don't try to think
+how it was done. Don't talk about the other man. Look here. You've sent
+that young gentleman to find out this business. Well&mdash;mark my words: he
+won't. He won't, I say. He'll make a splash, but he won't find anything.
+Who found out the last job?'</p>
+
+<p>'You said you did. But nothing was proved.'</p>
+
+<p>'I found that out. Plenty of proof there was. Look here'&mdash;his small eyes
+twinkled under his shaggy eyebrows&mdash;'I'll find out this job as well, see
+if I don't. Why&mdash;&mdash;' He rubbed his hands. 'Ho! ho! I <i>have found out</i>.
+Don't ask me&mdash;don't put a single question. But&mdash;I've got 'em&mdash;oh! I've
+got 'em. I've got 'em for you&mdash;as they say&mdash;on toast.'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<h3>THINGS MORE REMARKABLE</h3>
+
+<p>After such a prodigious event as the discovery of these unparalleled
+forgeries, anything might happen without being regarded. People's minds
+are open at such times to see, hear, and accept everything. After the
+earthquake, ghosts walk, solid things fly away of their own accord, good
+men commit murder, rich men go empty away, and nobody is in the least
+surprised.</p>
+
+<p>See what happened, the very next day, at the office in New Square. When
+George arrived in the morning he found that the senior Partner had not
+yet appeared. He was late. For the first time for fifty years and more,
+he was late. He went to his place, and the empty chair gave an air of
+bereavement to the room. Checkley was laying out the table; that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> is, he
+had done so a quarter of an hour before, but he could not leave off
+doing it: he was loth to leave the table before the master came: he took
+up the blotting pad and laid it down again: he arranged the pens: he
+lingered over the job.</p>
+
+<p>'Not come yet?' George cried, astonished. 'Do you think that yesterday's
+shock has been too much for him?'</p>
+
+<p>'I believe it's killed him,' said the old clerk&mdash;'killed him. That's
+what it has done;' and he went on muttering and mumbling. 'Don't,'he
+cried, when George took up the letters. 'P'r'aps he isn't dead yet&mdash;you
+haven't stepped into his shoes just yet. Let them letters alone.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not dead yet. I hope not.' George began to open the letters, regardless
+of the surly and disrespectful words. One may forgive a good deal to
+fidelity. 'He will go on for a good many years after we have got the
+money back for him.'</p>
+
+<p>'After some of us'&mdash;Checkley corrected him&mdash;'have got his money back for
+him.' He turned to go back to his own office, then turned again and came
+back to the table. He laid both hands upon it, leaned forward, shaking
+his head, and said with trembling voice: 'Did you never think, Mr.
+Austin, of the black ingratitood of the thing? Him that done it you
+know&mdash;him that eat his bread and took his money.' When Checkley was
+greatly moved, his grammar went back to the early days before he was
+confidential clerk.</p>
+
+<p>'I daresay it was ungrateful. I have been thinking, hitherto, of
+stronger adjectives.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;we've agreed&mdash;all of us&mdash;haven't we?&mdash;that it was done in this
+office&mdash;some one in the office done it with the help of some one out:
+some one who knows his ways'&mdash;he pointed to the empty chair&mdash;'some one
+who'd known all his ways for a long time, ten years at least.'</p>
+
+<p>'Things certainly seem to point that way'&mdash;'and they point to you,' he
+would have added, but refrained.</p>
+
+<p>The old man shook his head again and went on. 'They've eaten his bread
+and done his work; and&mdash;and&mdash;don't you call it, Mr. Austin&mdash;I ask you
+plain&mdash;don't you call it black ingratitood?'</p>
+
+<p>'I am sure it is. I have no doubt whatever about the ingratitude. But,
+you see, Checkley, that vice is not one which the Courts recognise. It
+is not one denounced in the Decalogue.&mdash;There is a good deal to
+consider, in fact, before we get to the ingratitude. It is probably a
+criminal conspiracy;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> it is a felony; it is a thing to be punished by a
+long term of penal servitude. When we have worried through all this and
+got our conspirators under lock and key, we will proceed to consider
+their ingratitude. There is also the bad form of it and the absence of
+proper feeling of it; and the want of consideration of the trouble they
+give. Patience! We shall have to consider the business from your point
+of view presently.'</p>
+
+<p>'I wouldn't scoff and snigger at it, Mr. Austin, if I were you. Scoffin'
+and sniggerin' might bring bad luck. Because, you know, there's others
+besides yourself determined to bring this thing to a right issue.'</p>
+
+<p>George put down his papers and looked at this importunate person. What
+did he mean? The old man shrunk and shrivelled and grew small. He
+trembled all over. But he remained standing with his hands on the
+table&mdash;leaning forward. 'Eight years ago,' he went on, 'when that other
+business happened&mdash;when Mr. Arundel cut his lucky&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I will have nothing said against Mr. Arundel. Go to your own room.'</p>
+
+<p>'One word&mdash;I will speak it. If <i>he's</i> dead I shall not stay long here.
+But I shall stay so long as he's alive, though you are his partner. Only
+one word, sir. If Mr. Arundel hadn't&mdash;run away&mdash;he'd 'a been a partner
+instead of you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, sir&mdash;s'pose he'd been found out <i>after</i> he was made a partner,
+instead of before?'</p>
+
+<p>George pointed to the door. The old man seemed off his head&mdash;was it with
+terror? Checkley obeyed. But at the door he turned his head and grinned.
+Quite a theatrical grin. It expressed malignity and the pleasure of
+anticipation. What was the matter with the old man? Surely, terror. Who,
+in the office, except himself, had the control of the letters? Who drew
+that quarterly cheque? Surely, terror.</p>
+
+<p>It was not until half-past eleven that Mr. Dering arrived at the office.
+He usually passed through the clerk's office outside his own; this
+morning he entered by his own private door, which opened on the stairs.
+No one had the key except himself. He generally proceeded in an orderly
+and methodical manner to hang up his hat and coat, take off his gloves,
+place his umbrella in the stand, throw open the safe, sit down in his
+chair, adjusted at a certain distance of three inches or so, to put on
+his glasses, and then, without either haste or dawdling,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> to begin the
+work of the day. It is very certain that to approach work always in
+exactly the same way saves the nerves. The unmethodical workman gets to
+his office at a varying hour, travels by different routes&mdash;now on an
+omnibus, now on foot; does nothing to-day in the same way that he did it
+yesterday. He breaks up early. At sixty he talks of retiring, at seventy
+he is past his work.</p>
+
+<p>This morning, Mr. Dering did nothing in its proper order. First, he was
+nearly two hours late. Next, he came in by his private door. George rose
+to greet him, but stopped because&mdash;a most wonderful thing&mdash;his Partner
+made as if he did not observe his presence. His eyes went through George
+in creepy and ghostly fashion. The junior partner stood still, silent,
+in bewilderment. Saw one ever the like, that a man should at noontide
+walk in his sleep! His appearance, too, was strange; his hat, pushed a
+little back, gave a touch of recklessness&mdash;actually recklessness&mdash;to the
+austere old lawyer: his eyes glowed pleasantly; and on his face&mdash;that
+grave and sober face&mdash;there was a pleased and satisfied smile: he looked
+happy, interested, benevolent, but not&mdash;no&mdash;not Mr. Edward Dering.
+Again, his coat, always tightly buttoned, was now hanging loose;
+outside, it had been swinging in the breeze, to the wonder of Lincoln's
+Inn: and he wore no gloves, a thing most remarkable. He looked about the
+room, nodded his head, and shut the door behind him.</p>
+
+<p>'He's somnambulating,' George murmured, 'or else I am invisible: I must
+have eaten fern-seed without knowing it.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering, still smiling pleasantly, walked across the room to the safe
+and unlocked it. He had in his hand a brown-paper parcel tied with red
+tape&mdash;this he deposited in the safe, locked it up, and dropped the keys
+in his pocket. The window beside the safe was open. He sat down, looking
+out into the Square.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment Checkley opened the door softly, after his wont, to bring
+in more letters. He stopped short, seeing his master thus seated, head
+in hand, at the window. He recognised the symptoms of yesterday&mdash;the
+rapt look, the open eyes that saw nothing. He crept on tiptoe across the
+room. 'Hush!' he whispered. 'Don't move. Don't speak. He went like this
+yesterday. Don't make the least noise. He'll come round presently.'</p>
+
+<p>'What is it?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Kind of fit, it is. Trouble done it. Yah! Ingratitood.' He would have
+hissed the word, but it has no sibilant. You can't hiss without the
+materials. 'Yesterday's trouble. That's what's done it.'</p>
+
+<p>They stood watching in silence for about ten minutes. The office was
+like the Court of the sleeping Princess. Then Checkley sneezed. Mr.
+Dering probably mistook the sneeze for a kiss, for he closed his eyes
+for a moment, opened them again, and arose once more himself, grave and
+austere.</p>
+
+<p>He nodded cheerfully, took off his hat, hung it on its peg, buttoned his
+coat, and threw open the safe. Evidently he remembered nothing of what
+had just passed.</p>
+
+<p>'You are early, George,' he said. 'You are before me, which is unusual.
+However&mdash;the early bird&mdash;we know.'</p>
+
+<p>'Before you for once. Are you quite well this morning? None the worse
+for yesterday's trouble?'</p>
+
+<p>'He's always well,' said Checkley, with cheerfulness assumed. 'Nobody
+ever sees him ill&mdash;<i>he</i> get ill? Not him. Eats as hearty as
+five-and-twenty and walks as upright.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am perfectly well, to the best of my knowledge. Yesterday's business
+upset me for the time&mdash;but it did not keep me awake. Yet it is certainly
+a very great trouble. You have no news, I suppose, that brought you here
+earlier than usual?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing new since yesterday.'</p>
+
+<p>'And you feel pretty confident?'</p>
+
+<p>'I feel like a sleuth-hound. I understand the pleasures of the chase. I
+long to be on the scent again. As for Edmund Gray, he is as good as in
+prison already.'</p>
+
+<p>'Good. I was for the moment shaken out of myself. I was bewildered. I
+was unable to look at the facts of the case calmly. For the first time
+in my life I wanted advice. Well: I now understand what a great thing it
+is that our profession exists for the assistance of men in trouble. How
+would the world get along at all without solicitors?'</p>
+
+<p>He took his usual place at the table and turned over his letters. 'This
+morning,' he went on, 'I feel more assured: my mind is clear again. I
+can talk about the case. Now then. Let us see&mdash;Edmund Gray is no shadow
+but a man. He has made me recommend him to his landlord. He is a clever
+man and a bold man. Don't be in a hurry about putting your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> hands upon
+him. Complete your case before you strike. But make no delay.'</p>
+
+<p>'There shall be none. And you shall hear everything from day to day, or
+from hour to hour.'</p>
+
+<p>Left alone, Mr. Dering returned to his papers and his work.</p>
+
+<p>At half-past one, Checkley looked in. 'Not going to take lunch this
+morning?'</p>
+
+<p>'Lunch? I have only just&mdash;&mdash;' Mr. Dering looked at his watch. 'Bless me!
+Most extraordinary! This morning has slipped away. I thought I had only
+just sat down. It seems not more than half an hour since Mr. Austin left
+me. Why, I should have forgotten all about it and let the time go
+by&mdash;nothing worse for a man of my years than irregular feeding.'</p>
+
+<p>'It's lucky you've got me,' said his clerk. 'Half-a-dozen partners
+wouldn't look after your meal-times.&mdash;Ah!' as his master went up-stairs
+to the room where he always had his luncheon laid out, 'he's clean
+forgotten. Some of these days, walking about wropped up in his thoughts,
+he'll be run over.&mdash;Clean forgotten it, he has. Sits down in a dream:
+walks about in a dream: some of these days he'll do something in a
+dream. Then there will be trouble.' He closed the door and returned to
+his own desk, where he was alone, the juniors having gone out to dinner.
+His own dinner was in his coat pocket. It consisted of a saveloy cut in
+thin slices and laid in bread with butter and mustard&mdash;a tasty meal. He
+slowly devoured the whole to the last crumb. Then, Mr. Dering having by
+this time finished his lunch and descended again, Checkley went
+up-stairs and finished the pint of claret of which his master had taken
+one glass. 'It's sour stuff,' he said. 'It don't behave as wine in a
+man's inside ought to behave. It don't make him a bit joyfuller. But
+it's pleasant too. Why they can't drink Port wine&mdash;which is real
+wine&mdash;when they can afford it, I don't know.'</p>
+
+<p>It was past three in the afternoon when George returned, not quite so
+confident in his bearing, yet full of news.</p>
+
+<p>'If you are quite ready to listen,' he said, 'I've got a good deal to
+tell. First of all, I thought I would have another shot at Gray's Inn. I
+went to the Chambers. The outer door was open, which looked as if the
+man was at home. I knocked at the inner door, which was opened by the
+laundress, the old woman whom I saw yesterday. "Well, sir," she said,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
+"you are unlucky. The master has been here this very morning. And he
+hasn't been long gone. You've only missed him by half an hour or so." I
+asked her if he would return that day; but she knew nothing. Then I
+asked her if she would let me write and leave a note for him. To this
+she consented, rather unwillingly. I went in therefore, and wrote my
+note at Mr. Gray's table. I asked him to call here on important
+business, and I marked the note "Urgent." I think there can be no harm
+in that. Then I looked about the room. It is one of those old wainscoted
+rooms, furnished simply, but everything solid and good&mdash;a long table,
+nearly as large as this one of yours: solid chairs&mdash;a solid sofa. Three
+or four pictures on the wall, and a bookcase full of books. No signs of
+occupation: no letters: no flowers. Everything covered with dust,
+although the old woman was there. I could have wished to examine the
+papers on the table, but the presence of the old woman forbade that
+dishonourable act. I did, however, look at the books. And I made a most
+curious discovery. Mr. Edmund Gray is a Socialist. All his books are on
+Socialism: they are in French, German, and English: all books of
+Socialism. And the pictures on the wall are portraits of distinguished
+Socialists. Isn't that wonderful? Did one ever hear before of Socialism
+and forgery going together?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not too fast. We haven't yet connected Edmund Gray with the forgery. At
+present, we only know that his name was used.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wait a bit. I am coming to that. After leaving the Chambers, I went
+into the City and saw Mr. Ellis. First of all, none of the stock has
+been sold.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! they have had three months, and they have not disposed of it? They
+must have met with unforeseen difficulties. Let me see.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering was now thoroughly alert. The weakness of the morning had
+completely passed away. 'What difficulties? Upon my word, I cannot
+understand that there could have been any. They have got the papers from
+a respectable solicitor through a respectable broker. No&mdash;no. Their
+course was perfectly plain. But rogues often break down through their
+inability to see the strength of their own case.'</p>
+
+<p>'Next, Mr. Ellis has ascertained that some of the dividends are received
+by your Bank. I therefore called on the manager. Now, be prepared for
+another surprise.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Another forgery?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;another forgery. It is nine or ten years since you sent a letter
+to the manager&mdash;I saw it&mdash;introducing your client Edmund Gray,
+gentleman, who was desirous of opening a private account. He paid in a
+small sum of money, which has been lying to his credit ever since, and
+has not been touched. In February last he received another letter from
+you; and again in March and April, forwarding certificates, and
+requesting him to receive the dividends. With your own hand you placed
+the papers in the Bank. I saw the letters. I would swear to your
+handwriting.'</p>
+
+<p>'These people are as clever as they are audacious.'</p>
+
+<p>'At every point a letter from you&mdash;a letter which the ablest expert
+would tell was your handwriting. Your name covers and vouches for
+everything.'</p>
+
+<p>'Did you tell the manager what has happened?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly; I told him everything. And this is in substance the line he
+takes. "Your Partner," he says, "alleges that those papers have been
+procured by forgery. He says that the letter of introduction is a
+forgery. Very good. It may be so. But I have opened this account for a
+customer who brought me an introduction from the best solicitor in
+London, whose handwriting I know well, and recognise in the letter. Such
+an allegation would not be enough in itself for me to take action: until
+a civil or criminal action is brought&mdash;until it is concluded&mdash;I could
+not refuse to treat the customer like all the rest. At the same time I
+will take what steps I can to inquire into my customer's antecedents."'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite right,' said Mr. Dering.</p>
+
+<p>'I asked him next, what he would do if the customer sent for the papers.
+He said that if an action were brought, he would probably be served with
+a <i>sub p&oelig;na duces tecum</i>, making him keep and produce these papers as
+forming part of the documents in the case.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly, certainly; the manager knows his law.'</p>
+
+<p>'"And," he went on, "as regards cheques, I shall pay them or receive
+them until restrained."'</p>
+
+<p>'In other words, he said what we expected. For our own action now.'</p>
+
+<p>'We might apply to a judge in Chambers for an attachment or a garnishee
+order. That must be <i>pendente lite</i>, an interlocutory proceeding, in the
+action. As yet, we have not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> brought an action at all. My partner'&mdash;Mr.
+Dering rubbed his hands cheerfully&mdash;'I think we have done very well so
+far. These are clumsy scoundrels, after all. They thought to divert
+suspicion by using my name. They thought to cover themselves with my
+name. But they should have sold and realised without the least delay.
+Very good. We have now got our hands upon the papers. It would have
+complicated matters horribly had the stock been sold and transferred. So
+far we are safe. Because, you see, after what they have heard, the Bank
+would certainly not give them up without letting us know. They would
+warn us: they would put the man off: they would ask him awkward
+questions about himself. Oh! I think we are safe&mdash;quite safe.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering drew a long breath. 'I was thinking last night,' he
+continued, 'of the trouble we might have if those certificates had
+changed hands. They might have been bought and sold a dozen times in
+four months: they might have been sold in separate small lots, and an
+order of the Court necessary for every transaction. We have now nothing
+but the simple question before us: how did the man Edmund Gray get
+possession of this property?'</p>
+
+<p>He sat in silence for a few minutes. Then he went on quietly. 'To lose
+this money would be a heavy blow for me&mdash;not all my fortune, nor a
+quarter, but a large sum. I have plenty left. I have no hungry and
+expectant heirs: my people are all wealthy. But yet a very heavy loss.
+And then&mdash;to be robbed. I have always wondered why we left off hanging
+robbers. They ought to be hanged, every one. He who invades the sacred
+right of property should be killed&mdash;killed without hope of mercy.' He
+spoke with the earnestness of sincerity. 'To lose this property would
+not be ruin to me; yet it would be terrible. It would take so many years
+out of my past life. Every year means so much money saved. Forty
+thousand pounds means ten years of my past&mdash;not taken away so that I
+should be ten years younger, but, ten years of work annihilated. Could I
+forgive the man who would so injure me? Never.'</p>
+
+<p>'I understand,' said George. 'Fortunately, we shall get the papers
+back. The fact of their possession must connect the possessor with
+the fraud. Who is he? Can he be warned already? Yet who should tell
+him? Who knows that we have discovered the business? You&mdash;your friend
+Mr. Ellis&mdash;the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> manager of the Bank&mdash;no one else. Yes&mdash;there is also
+Checkley&mdash;Checkley,' he repeated. He could not&mdash;yet&mdash;express his
+suspicions as to the old and faithful servant. 'Checkley also knows.'</p>
+
+<p>At this point Checkley himself opened the door and brought in a
+card&mdash;that of the Bank manager.</p>
+
+<p>'I have called,' said the visitor hurriedly, 'to tell you of something
+important, that happened this morning. I did not know it when we were
+talking over this business, Mr. Austin. It happened at ten o'clock, as
+soon as the doors were open. A letter was brought by hand from Mr.
+Dering&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Another forgery! When will they stop?'</p>
+
+<p>'&mdash;&mdash;asking for those certificates to be given to the bearer&mdash;Mr. Edmund
+Gray's certificates. This was done. They are no longer at the Bank.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Then they have been warned,' cried George. 'Who was the messenger?'</p>
+
+<p>'He was a boy. Looked like an office boy.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will inquire directly if it was one of our boys. Go on.'</p>
+
+<p>'That settles the difficulty as to our action in case the papers are
+wanted by you. We no longer hold them. As to the dividends, we shall
+continue to receive them to the account of Mr. Edmund Gray until we get
+an order or an injunction.'</p>
+
+<p>'The difficulty,' said George, 'is to connect the case with Mr. Edmund
+Gray bodily. At present, we have nothing but the letters to go upon.
+Suppose the real Edmund Gray says that he knows nothing about it. What
+are we to do? You remember receiving the dividends for him. Has he drawn
+a cheque?'</p>
+
+<p>'No; we have never paid any cheque at all for him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Have you seen him?'</p>
+
+<p>'No; I have never seen him.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is a most wonderful puzzle. After all, the withdrawal of the papers
+can only mean a resolution to sell them. He must instruct somebody. He
+must appear in the matter.'</p>
+
+<p>'He may instruct somebody as he instructed me&mdash;in the name of Mr.
+Dering.'</p>
+
+<p>'Another forgery.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' said George. 'We must watch and find out this mysterious Edmund
+Gray. After all, it will not help us to say that a forged letter gave
+certain instructions to do certain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> things for a certain person&mdash;say the
+Queen&mdash;unless you can establish the complicity of that person. And
+that&mdash;so far&mdash;we certainly have not done. Meantime&mdash;what next?'</p>
+
+<p>Obviously, the next thing was to find out if any of the office boys had
+taken that letter to the Bank. No one had been sent on that errand.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<h3>CHECKLEY'S CASE</h3>
+
+<p>That evening Mr. Checkley was not in his customary place at the
+<i>Salutation</i>, where his presence was greatly desired. He arrived late,
+when it wanted only a quarter to eleven. The faded barrister was left
+alone in the room, lingering over the day's paper with his empty glass
+beside him. Mr. Checkley entered with an air of triumph, and something
+like the elastic spring of a victor in his aged step. He called Robert,
+and ordered at his own expense, for himself, a costly drink&mdash;a compound
+of Jamaica rum, hot water, sugar and lemon, although it was an evening
+in July and, for the time of year, almost pleasantly warm. Nor did he
+stop here, for with the manner of a man who just for once&mdash;to mark a
+joyful occasion&mdash;plunges, he rattled his money in his pocket and ordered
+another for the barrister. 'For,' he said, 'this evening I have done a
+good work, and I will mark the day.'</p>
+
+<p>When the glasses were brought, he lifted his and cried: 'Come, let us
+drink to the confusion of all Rogues, great and small. Down with 'em!'</p>
+
+<p>'Your toast, Mr. Checkley,' replied the barrister, 'would make my
+profession useless; if there were no rogues, there would be no Law.
+That, however, would injure me less than many of my brethren. I drink,
+therefore, confusion to Rogues, great and small. Down with 'em.&mdash;This is
+excellent grog.&mdash;Down with 'em!' So saying, he finished his glass and
+departed to his garret, where, thanks to the grog, he slept nobly, and
+dreamed that he was a Master in Chancery.</p>
+
+<p>The reason of this unaccustomed mirth was as follows: Checkley by this
+time had fully established in his own mind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> the conclusion that the
+prime mover in the deed&mdash;the act&mdash;the Thing&mdash;was none other than the new
+partner, the young upstart, whom he hated with a hatred
+unextinguishable. He was as certain about him as he had been certain
+about Athelstan Arundel, and for much the same reasons. Very well. As
+yet he had not dared to speak: King Pharaoh's chief scribe would have
+had the same hesitation at proffering any theory concerning Joseph.
+To-night, however&mdash;&mdash; But you shall hear.</p>
+
+<p>Everybody was out of the office at half-past seven, when he left it. He
+walked round the empty rooms, looking into unlocked drawers&mdash;one knows
+not what he expected to find. He looked into Mr. Austin's room and shook
+his fist and grinned at the empty chair.</p>
+
+<p>'I'll have you yet,' he said. 'Oh, fox! fox! I'll have you, if I wait
+for thirty years?'</p>
+
+<p>It adds an additional pang to old age when one feels that if the end
+comes prematurely, when one is only ninety or so, there may be a revenge
+unfinished. I have always envied the dying hero who had no enemies to
+forgive because he had killed them all.</p>
+
+<p>When Checkley left the place he walked across the Inn and so into
+Chancery Lane, where he crossed over and entered Gray's Inn by the
+Holborn archway. He lingered in South Square: he walked all round it
+twice: he read the names on the door-posts, keeping all the time an eye
+on No. 22. Presently, he was rewarded. A figure which he knew, tall and
+well proportioned, head flung back, walked into the Inn and made
+straight for No. 22. It was none other than Athelstan Arundel.&mdash;The old
+man crept into the entrance, where he was partly hidden; he could see
+across the Square, himself unseen. Athelstan walked into the house and
+up the stairs: the place was quiet: Checkley could hear his steps on the
+wooden stairs: he heard him knock at a door&mdash;he heard the door open and
+the voices of men talking.</p>
+
+<p>'Ah!' said Checkley, 'now we've got 'em!'</p>
+
+<p>Well&mdash;but this was not all. For presently there came into the Inn young
+Austin himself.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' said Checkley, finishing his sentence&mdash;'on toast. Here's the
+other; here they are&mdash;both.'</p>
+
+<p>In fact, George, too, entered the house known as No. 22 and walked up
+the stairs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Checkley waited for no more. He ran out of the Inn and he called a cab.</p>
+
+<p>If he had waited a little longer, he would have seen the new partner
+come out of the house and walk away: if he had followed him up the
+stairs, he would have seen him knocking at the closed outer door of Mr.
+Edmund Gray. If he had knocked at the door opposite, he would have found
+Mr. Athelstan Arundel in the room with his own acquaintance, Mr. Freddy
+Carstone, the Cambridge scholar and the ornament of their circle at the
+<i>Salutation</i>. But being in a hurry, he jumped to a conclusion and called
+a cab.</p>
+
+<p>He drove to Palace Gardens, where Sir Samuel had his town-house. Sir
+Samuel was still at dinner. He sat down in the hall, meekly waiting.
+After a while the Service condescended to ask if he wished a message to
+be taken in to Sir Samuel.</p>
+
+<p>'From his brother's&mdash;from Mr. Dering's office, please tell him. From his
+brother's office&mdash;on most important business&mdash;most important&mdash;say.'</p>
+
+<p>Sir Samuel received him kindly, made him sit down, and gave him a glass
+of wine. 'Now,' he said, 'tell me what it all means. My brother has had
+a robbery&mdash;papers and certificates and things&mdash;of course they are
+stopped. He won't lose anything. But it is a great nuisance, this kind
+of thing.'</p>
+
+<p>'He has already lost four months' dividends&mdash;four months, sir, on
+thirty-eight thousand pounds. And do you really think that he will get
+back his papers?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly&mdash;or others. They are, after all, only vouchers. How is my
+brother?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, Sir Samuel, better than you'd think likely. This morning, to be
+sure&mdash;&mdash;' He stopped, being loth to tell how his master had lost
+consciousness. 'Well, sir, I've been thinking that the property was
+gone, and from what I know of them as had to do with the job, I thought
+there was mighty little chance of getting it back. It kept me awake. Oh!
+it's an awful sum. Close upon forty thousand pounds. He can stand that
+and double that&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'And double that again,' said Sir Samuel. 'I should hope so.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly, sir. But it's a blow&mdash; I can feel for him. I'm only a clerk;
+but I've saved a bit and put out a bit, Sir Samuel. Cheese-parings,
+you'd say; but I've enjoyed saving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> it up&mdash;oh! I've enjoyed it. I don't
+think there is any pleasure in life like saving up&mdash;watching it
+grow&mdash;and grow and grow&mdash;it grows like a pretty flower, doesn't it?&mdash;and
+adding to it. Ah!' he sighed, and drank his glass of wine. 'Sir Samuel,
+if I was to lose my little savings, it would break my heart. I'm an old
+man, and so is he&mdash;it would break me up, it would indeed. Ever since
+yesterday morning, I've been thinking whether anything could happen to
+make me lose my money. There's Death in the thought. Sir Samuel&mdash;for an
+old man&mdash;and a small man&mdash;like me&mdash;there's Death in the thought.'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't tell anybody where your investments are, and lock up the papers,
+Checkley.&mdash;Now, what do you want me to do for you?'</p>
+
+<p>'I want you to listen to me for half an hour, Sir Samuel, and to give me
+your advice, for the business is too much for me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Go on, then. I am listening.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well. Now, sir, I don't know if I shall be able to make my case
+clear&mdash;but I will try. I haven't been about Mr. Dering for fifty years
+for nothing, I hope. The case is this. Nine years ago, a man calling
+himself Edmund Gray took Chambers in South Square, Gray's Inn, forty
+pounds a year. He is represented as being an elderly man. He has paid
+his rent regularly, but he visits his Chambers at irregular intervals.
+Eight years ago there was a forgery at your brother's. The cheque was
+payable to the order of Edmund Gray; mark that. The money was paid&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I remember. Athelstan Arundel was accused or suspected of the thing.'</p>
+
+<p>'He was. And he ran away to avoid being arrested. Remember that. And
+he's never been heard of since. Well, the series of forgeries by which
+the shares and stocks belonging to Mr. Dering have been stolen are all
+written in the same handwriting as the first, and are all carried on in
+the name and for the order of Edmund Gray. That you would acknowledge in
+a moment if you saw the papers: there are the same lines and curves of
+the letters&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Which proves, I should say, that Athelstan never did it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wait a minute. Don't let's be in a hurry. The forgers by themselves
+could do nothing. They wanted some one in the office, some one always
+about the place: some one who could get at the safe: some one who could
+get from the office<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> what the man outside wanted: some one to intercept
+the letters&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Well?'</p>
+
+<p>'That person, Sir Samuel, I have found.'</p>
+
+<p>Sir Samuel sat up. 'You have found him?'</p>
+
+<p>'I have. And here's my difficulty. Because, Sir Samuel, he is your
+brother's new partner; and unless we lodge him in the Jug before many
+days, he will be your own brother-in-law.'</p>
+
+<p>Sir Samuel changed colour, and got up to see that the door behind the
+screen was shut. 'This is a very serious thing to say, Checkley&mdash;a very
+serious thing.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! I will make it quite plain. First, as to opportunities; next, as to
+motives; third, as to facts. For opportunities, then. Latterly, for the
+last six months, he's been working in the Chief's office nearly all day
+long. There he sat, at the little table between the windows, just half
+turned round to catch the light, with the open safe within easy reach of
+his hand when the Chief wasn't looking; or when&mdash;because he doesn't
+always touch the bell&mdash;Mr. Dering would bring papers into my office and
+leave him alone&mdash;ah! alone&mdash;with the safe. That's for opportunities. Now
+for motives. He's been engaged for two years, I understand, to a young
+lady&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'To Lady Dering's sister.'</p>
+
+<p>'Just so, sir. And I believe, until the unexpected luck of his
+partnership, against the wish of Lady Dering's family.'</p>
+
+<p>'That is true.'</p>
+
+<p>'He had two hundred a year. And he had nothing else&mdash;no prospects and no
+chances. So I think you will acknowledge that there's sufficient motive
+here for him to try anything.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, if poverty is a motive&mdash;no doubt he had one.'</p>
+
+<p>'Poverty was the motive. You couldn't have a stronger motive. There
+isn't in the whole world a stronger motive&mdash;though, I admit, some young
+men who are pore may keep honest. I did. Mr. Austin, I take it, is one
+of those that don't keep honest. That's for motive. Now for facts. Mr.
+Austin had nothing to do with the forgery eight years ago; he was only
+an articled clerk beginning. But he knew young Arundel who did the
+thing, remember. That cheque was written by young Arundel, who ran away.
+The letters of this year are written by <i>the same hand</i>&mdash;by your
+brother-in-law, Sir Samuel&mdash;by Mr. Athelstan Arundel.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'But he is gone: he has disappeared: nobody knows where he is.'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley laughed. This was a moment of triumph. 'He is back again, Sir
+Samuel. I have seen him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Where? Athelstan back again?'</p>
+
+<p>'I will tell you. All these forgeries use the name of Edmund Gray, of 22
+South Square, Gray's Inn. I have told you that before. When the thing is
+discovered, young Austin goes off and makes himself mighty busy tracking
+and following up, hunting down, doing detective work, and so on. Oh! who
+so busy as he? Found out that Edmund Gray was an old man, if you please;
+and this morning again, so cheerful and lively that it does your heart
+good&mdash;going to settle it all in a day or two. Yah! As if I couldn't see
+through his cunning! Why! I'm seventy-five years old. I'm up to every
+kind of dodge: what will happen next, unless you cut in? First, we shall
+hear that Mr. Edmund Gray has gone abroad, or has vanished, or
+something. When he's quite out of the way, we shall find out that he did
+the whole thing&mdash;him and nobody else. And then if there's no more money
+to be made by keeping the papers, they will all come back&mdash;from Edmund
+Gray, penitent&mdash;oh! I know.'</p>
+
+<p>'But about Athelstan Arundel?'</p>
+
+<p>'To be sure. I'm an old man, Sir Samuel, and I talk too much. Well, I go
+most nights to a parlour in Holborn&mdash;the <i>Salutation</i> it is&mdash;where the
+company is select and the liquor good. There I saw him a week ago. He
+was brought in by one of the company. I knew him at once, and he wasn't
+in hiding. Used his own name. But he didn't see me. No&mdash;no, thinks I. We
+won't give this away. I hid my face behind a newspaper. He's been
+staying in Camberwell for the last eight years, I believe, all the
+time.'</p>
+
+<p>'In Camberwell? Why in Camberwell?'</p>
+
+<p>'In bad company&mdash;as I was given to understand. In Prodigal Son's
+company.'</p>
+
+<p>'You don't mean this, Checkley? Is it really true?'</p>
+
+<p>'It is perfectly true, Sir Samuel. I have seen him. He was dressed like
+a Prince&mdash;velvet jacket and crimson tie and white waistcoat. And he
+walked in with just his old insolence&mdash;nose up, head back, looking round
+as if we were not fit to be in the same room with him&mdash;just as he used
+to do.'</p>
+
+<p>'By Jove!' said Sir Samuel, thrusting his hands into his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> pockets. 'What
+will Hilda say&mdash;I mean&mdash;Lady Dering, say, when she hears it?'</p>
+
+<p>'There is more to hear, Sir Samuel&mdash;not much more. But it drives the
+nail home&mdash;a nail in their coffin, I hope and trust.'</p>
+
+<p>'Go on. Let me hear all.'</p>
+
+<p>'You've caught on, have you, to all I said about Edmund Gray of 22 South
+Square&mdash;him as was mentioned eight years ago&mdash;and about the handwriting
+being the same now as then?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes.'</p>
+
+<p>'So that the same hand which forged the cheque then has forged the
+letters now?'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite so.'</p>
+
+<p>'I said then&mdash;and I say now&mdash;that young Arundel forged that cheque. I
+say now that he is the forger of these letters, and that Austin stood in
+with him and was his confidant. What do you think of this? To-night,
+after office, I thought I would go and have a look at 22 South Square.
+So I walked up and down on the other side: my eyes are pretty good
+still: I thought I should perhaps see something presently over the way.
+So I did. Who should come into the Square, marching along as if the old
+place, Benchers and all, belonged to him, but Mr. Athelstan Arundel! He
+pulled up at No. 22&mdash;No. 22, mind&mdash;Edmund Gray's number&mdash;he walked
+up-stairs&mdash;I heard him&mdash;to the second floor&mdash;Edmund Gray's floor.'</p>
+
+<p>'Good Lord!' cried Sir Samuel. 'This is suspicious with a vengeance.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! but I haven't done. I stayed where I was, wondering if he would
+come down, and whether I should meet him and ask him what he was doing
+with Edmund Gray. And then&mdash;I was richly rewarded&mdash;oh! rich was the
+reward, for who should come into the Square but young Austin himself!
+He, too, went up the stairs of No. 22. And there I left them both, and
+came away&mdash;came to put the case into your hands.'</p>
+
+<p>'What do you want me to do?'</p>
+
+<p>'I want you to advise me. What shall I do? There is my case complete&mdash;I
+don't suppose you want a more complete case&mdash;for any Court of Justice.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, as for that, I'm not a lawyer. As a City man, if a clerk of mine
+was in such a suspicious position as young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> Austin, I should ask him for
+full explanations. You've got no actual proof, you see, that he, or
+Athelstan either, did the thing.'</p>
+
+<p>'I beg your pardon, Sir Samuel. I'm only a clerk, and you're a great
+City Knight, but I don't know what better proof you want. Don't I see
+young Austin pretending not to know who Edmund Gray is, and then going
+up to his Chambers to meet his pal Athelstan Arundel? Ain't that proof?
+Don't I tell you that the same hand had been at work in both forgeries?
+Isn't that hand young Arundel's?'</p>
+
+<p>'Checkley, I see that you are greatly interested in this matter&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I would give&mdash;ah!&mdash;twenty pounds&mdash;yes, twenty hard-earned pounds to see
+those two young gentlemen in the Dock&mdash;where they shall be&mdash;where they
+shall be,' he repeated. His trembling voice, cracked with old age,
+seemed unequally wedded to the malignity of his words and his
+expression.</p>
+
+<p>'One of these young gentlemen,' said Sir Samuel, 'is my brother-in-law.
+The other, unless this business prevents, will be my brother-in-law
+before many days. You will, therefore, understand that my endeavours
+will be to keep them both out of the Dock.'</p>
+
+<p>'The job will be only half complete without; but still&mdash;to see young
+Austin drove out of the place&mdash;with disgrace&mdash;same as the other one
+was&mdash;why, that should be something&mdash;something to think about
+afterwards.'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley went away. Sir Samuel sat thinking what was best to be done.
+Like everybody else, he quite believed in Athelstan's guilt. Granted
+that fact, he saw clearly that there was another very black-looking case
+against him and against George Austin. What should be done? He would
+consult his wife. He did so.</p>
+
+<p>'What will Elsie say?' she asked. 'Yet, sooner or later, she must be
+told. I suppose that will be my task. But she can wait a little. Do you
+go to-morrow morning to Mr. Dering and tell him. The sooner he knows the
+better.'</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>You now understand why Mr. Checkley was so joyous when he arrived at the
+<i>Salutation</i>, and why he proposed that toast.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning Sir Samuel saw his brother and whispered in his ear the
+whole of the case, as prepared and drawn up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> by Checkley. 'What do you
+say?' he asked when he had concluded.</p>
+
+<p>'I say nothing.' Mr. Dering had heard all the points brought out one
+after the other without the least emotion. 'There is nothing to be
+said.'</p>
+
+<p>'But, my dear brother, the evidence!'</p>
+
+<p>'There is no evidence. It is all supposition. If Athelstan committed the
+first forgery&mdash;there is no evidence to show that he did&mdash;if he has been
+living all these years a life of profligacy in England&mdash;I have evidence
+to the contrary in my own possession&mdash;if he was tempted by poverty&mdash;if
+young Austin was also tempted by poverty&mdash;if the two together&mdash;or either
+separately&mdash;could undertake, under temptation, risks so terrible&mdash;you
+see, the whole case is built upon an "if."'</p>
+
+<p>'Yet it holds together at every point. It is a perfect case. Who else
+could do it? Checkley certainly could not. That old man&mdash;that old
+servant.'</p>
+
+<p>'I agree with you, Checkley could not do it. Not because he is too
+old&mdash;age has nothing to do with crime&mdash;nor because he is an old servant.
+He could not do it because he is not clever enough. This kind of thing
+wants grasp and vision. Checkley hasn't got either. He might be a
+confederate. He may have stopped the letters. He is miserly&mdash;he might be
+tempted by money. Yet I do not think it possible.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;I cannot believe that,' said Sir Samuel.</p>
+
+<p>'Yet it is quite as difficult to believe such a thing of young Austin.
+Oh! I know everything is possible. He belongs to a good family: he has
+his own people to think of: he is engaged&mdash;he has always led a blameless
+life. Yet&mdash;yet&mdash;everything is possible.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have known cases in the City where the blameless seeming was only a
+pretence and a cloak&mdash;most deplorable cases, I assure you&mdash;the cloak to
+hide a profligate life.'</p>
+
+<p>'I think if that were so, I should not be deceived. Outward signs in
+such cases are not wanting. I know the face of the profligate, open or
+concealed. Young Austin presents no sign of anything but a regular and
+blameless life. For all these reasons, I say, we ought to believe him
+incapable of any dishonourable action. But I have been in practice for
+fifty years&mdash;fifty years&mdash;during this long period I know not how many
+cases&mdash;what are called family cases&mdash;have been in my hands. I have had
+in this room the trembling old profligate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> of seventy, ready to pay any
+price rather than let the thing be known to his old wife, who believes
+in him, and his daughters, who worship him. I have had the middle-aged
+man of standing in the City imploring me to buy back the paper&mdash;at any
+price&mdash;which would stamp him with infamy. I have had the young man on
+his knees begging me never to let his father know the forgery, the
+theft, the villainy, the seduction&mdash;what not. And I have had women of
+every age sitting in that chair confessing their wickedness, which they
+do for the most part with hard faces and cold eyes, not like the men,
+with shame and tears. The men fall being tempted by want of money, which
+means loss of pride and self-respect, and position, and comfort. There
+ought to have been a clause in the Litany, "From want of money at all
+ages and on all occasions, Good Lord, deliver us."'</p>
+
+<p>'True&mdash;most true,' said Sir Samuel. '"From want of money"&mdash;I shall say
+this next time I go to church&mdash;"from want of money at all ages, and
+particularly when one is getting on in years, and has a title to keep
+up&mdash;Good Lord, deliver us." Very good indeed, brother. I shall quote
+this in the City. To-morrow, I have to make a speech at the Helmet
+Makers' Company. I shall quote this very remarkable saying of yours.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering smiled gravely. 'A simple saying, indeed. The greatest
+temptation of any is the want of money. Why, there is nothing that the
+average man will not do rather than be without money. He is helpless: he
+is a slave: he is in contempt: without money.&mdash;Austin, you tell me, was
+tempted by want of money. I think not. He was poor: he had enough to
+keep him: he was frugal: he had simple wants: he had never felt the want
+of money. No&mdash;I do not think that he was tempted by poverty. Everything
+is possible&mdash;this is possible.&mdash;But, brother, silence. If you speak
+about this, you may injure the young man, supposing him to be innocent.
+If he is guilty, you will put him on his guard. And, mind, I shall show
+no foolish mercy&mdash;none&mdash;when we find the guilty parties. All the more
+reason, therefore, for silence.'</p>
+
+<p>Sir Samuel promised. But he had parted with the secret&mdash;he had given it
+into the keeping of a woman.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<h3>WHO IS EDMUND GRAY?</h3>
+
+<p>Athelstan laughed on the first hearing of the thing&mdash;it was on the
+Tuesday evening, the day after the discovery, and George was dining with
+him. He laughed both loud and long and with some of the old bitterness.
+'So the notes were in the safe all along, were they? Who put them there?
+"I," says old Checkley, "with my pretty fingers&mdash;I put them there."'</p>
+
+<p>'As soon as this other business is over, the Chief must tell your
+mother, Athelstan. It ought to come from him. I shall say nothing to
+Elsie just yet. She shall learn that you are home again, and that your
+name is clear again, at the same moment.'</p>
+
+<p>'I confess that I should be pleased to make them all confess that their
+suspicions were hasty and unfounded. At the same time I did wrong to go
+away; I ought to have stuck to my post. As for this other business, one
+thinks with something like satisfaction of the wise old lawyer losing
+forty thousand pounds. It made him sit up, did it? For such a man to sit
+up indicates the presence of deep emotion. Lost forty thousand pounds!
+And he who holds so strongly to the sanctity of Property! Forty thousand
+pounds!'</p>
+
+<p>'Well; but we shall recover the certificates, or get new ones in their
+place.'</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose so. Shares can't be lost or stolen, really&mdash;can they?
+Meantime, there may be difficulty, and you must try to find the forger.
+Has it yet occurred to you that Checkley is the only man who has had
+control of the letters and access at all times to the office?'</p>
+
+<p>'It has.'</p>
+
+<p>'Checkley is not exactly a fox: he is a jackal: therefore he does
+somebody's dirty work for him at a wage. That is the way with the
+jackal, you know. Eight years ago he tried to make a little pile by a
+little forgery&mdash;he did not commit the forgery, I am sure&mdash;but he did the
+jackal; only he forgot that notes are numbered: so when he remembered
+that, he put them back. Now, his friend the forger, who is no doubt a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>
+begging-letter writer, has devised an elaborate scheme for getting hold
+of shares&mdash;ignorant that they are of no value.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, he has drawn the dividends for four months.'</p>
+
+<p>'That is something, you see; but he hoped to get hold of thirty-eight
+thousand pounds. It is the same hand at work, you infer from the
+writing. You are quite sure of that?'</p>
+
+<p>'There can be no doubt of it. How could two different hands present
+exactly the same curious singularities?'</p>
+
+<p>'And all the letters, cheques, and transfers for the same person. What
+is his name?'</p>
+
+<p>'One Edmund Gray, resident at 22 South Square, Gray's Inn.'</p>
+
+<p>'No. 22? Oh! that is where Freddy Carstone lives. Do you know anything
+about the <i>nomm&eacute;</i> Edmund Gray?'</p>
+
+<p>'I have been in search of information about him. He is described by the
+landlord of the rooms and by his laundress as an elderly gentleman.'</p>
+
+<p>'Elderly. Checkley is elderly.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I thought of Checkley, of course. But somehow the indications
+don't fit. My informants speak of a gentleman. Nobody at his kindliest
+and most benevolent mood could possibly call Checkley a gentleman.'</p>
+
+<p>'The word gentleman,' said Athelstan, 'is elastic. It stretches with the
+employer or the consumer of it. It is like the word truth to a
+politician. It varies from man to man. You cannot lay down any
+definition of the word gentleman. Do you know nothing more about him?'</p>
+
+<p>'A little. He has held this set of Chambers for nine years, and he pays
+his rent regularly before the day it falls due. Also I called upon him
+the other day when his laundress was at work and wrote a note to him at
+his table. The room is full of Socialist books and pamphlets. He is
+therefore, presumably, a Socialist leader.'</p>
+
+<p>'I know all their leaders,' said Athelstan the Journalist.</p>
+
+<p>'I've made the acquaintance of most for business purposes. I've had to
+read up the Socialist Literature and to make the acquaintance of their
+chiefs. There is no Edmund Gray among them. Stay&mdash;there is a Socialist
+letter in the <i>Times</i> of to-day&mdash;surely&mdash;&mdash; Waiter'&mdash;they were dining at
+the club where Athelstan was a temporary member&mdash;'let me have the
+<i>Times</i> of to-day. Yes, I thought so. Here is a letter from the
+Socialist point of view, signed by Edmund Gray&mdash;and&mdash;and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> yes&mdash;look
+here&mdash;it is most curious&mdash;with the same address&mdash;22 South Square&mdash;a long
+letter, in small print, and put in the supplement; but it's there. See;
+signed "Edmund Gray." What do you think of that, for impudence in a
+forger?'</p>
+
+<p>George read the letter through carefully. It was a whole column long;
+and it was in advocacy of Socialism pure and simple. One was surprised
+that the editor had allowed it to appear. Probably he was influenced by
+the tone of it, which was generous, cheerful, and optimistic. There was
+not the slightest ring of bitterness about it. 'We who look,' it said,
+'for the coming disappearance of Property, not by violence and
+revolution, but by a rapid process of decay and wasting away, regard the
+present position of the holders of Property with the greatest
+satisfaction. Everywhere there are encouraging signs. Money which
+formerly obtained five per cent. now yields no more than half that rate.
+Shares which were formerly paying ten, twelve, and twenty per cent. are
+now falling steadily. Companies started every day in the despairing hope
+of the old great gains, fail and are wound up. Land, which the old wars
+forced up to an extraordinary value, has now sunk so enormously that
+many landlords have lost three-fourths and even more of their income.
+All those enterprises which require the employment of many hands&mdash;as
+docks, railways, printing-houses, manufactories of all kinds&mdash;are
+rapidly falling into the condition of being able to pay no dividend at
+all, because the pay of the men and the maintenance of the plant absorb
+all. When that point is reached, the whole capital&mdash;the
+millions&mdash;embarked in these enterprises will be lost for ever. The stock
+cannot be sold because it produces nothing: it has vanished. In other
+words, sir, what I desire to point out to your readers is that while you
+are discussing or denouncing Socialism, the one condition which makes
+Socialism possible and necessary is actually coming upon the
+world&mdash;namely, the destruction of capital. Why have not men in all ages
+combined to work for themselves? Because capital has prevented them.
+When there is no capital left to employ them, to bully them, to make
+laws against their combinations, or to bribe them, they will then have
+to work with and for themselves or starve. The thing will be forced upon
+them. Work will be a necessity for everybody: there will be no more a
+privileged class: all who work will be paid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> at equal rates for their
+work: those who refuse to work will be suffered to starve.'</p>
+
+<p>The letter went on to give illustrations of the enormous losses in
+capital during the last fifteen years, when the shrinkage began. It
+concluded: 'For my own part, I confess that the prospect of the future
+fills me with satisfaction. No more young men idle, middle-aged men
+pampered, and old men looking back to a wasted life: nobody trying to
+save, because the future of the old, the widows, the children, the
+decayed, and the helpless, will be a charge upon the strong and the
+young&mdash;that is, upon the juvenes, the workers of the State. No more
+robbery: no more unproductive classes. Do not think that there will be
+no more men of science and of learning. These, too, will be considered
+workers. Or no more poets, dramatists, artists, novelists. These, too,
+will be considered workers. And do not fear the coming of that time. It
+is stealing upon us as surely, as certainly, as the decay of the powers
+in old age. Doubt not that when it comes we shall have become well
+prepared for it. Those of us who are old may lament that we shall not
+live to see the day when the last shred of property is cast into the
+common hoard. Those of us who are young have all the more reason to
+rejoice in their youth, because they may live to see the Great Day of
+Humanity dawn at last.&mdash;<span class="smcap">Edmund Gray</span>, 22 South Square, Gray's Inn.'</p>
+
+<p>'You have read this?' asked George.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; I read it this morning before I knew the significance of the
+signature. Letter of a dreamer. He sees what might happen, and thinks
+that it will happen. Capital is too strong yet.'</p>
+
+<p>'Is this the letter of a forger, a conspirator&mdash;a thief?'</p>
+
+<p>'It does not strike me in that light. Yet many great thieves are most
+amiable in their private lives. There is no reason why this dreamer of
+dreams should not be also a forger and a thief. Still, the case would be
+remarkable, I admit.'</p>
+
+<p>'Can there be two Edmund Grays&mdash;father and son?'</p>
+
+<p>'Can there be a clerk to Edmund Gray, imprudently using his master's
+name, and ready to open any letter that may come? Consider&mdash;Clerk is a
+friend of old Checkley. Clerk invents the scheme. Checkley does his
+share. However, we can easily find out something more about the man,
+because my old friend, Freddy Carstone, has Chambers on the same floor.
+We will walk over after dinner, and if Freddy happens<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> to be sober&mdash;he
+is about this time pleasantly, not stupidly, drunk, as a rule&mdash;he will
+tell us what he knows about his neighbour.'</p>
+
+<p>'I ought to see Elsie this evening, but this is more important.'</p>
+
+<p>'Much more. Send her a telegram. Waiter, we will take coffee here. So.
+You have got the conduct of the case in your own hands. What has
+Checkley got?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing. I believe he is jealous of me. I don't know why. But it does
+not matter what an old man like that thinks.'</p>
+
+<p>'Even an old man can strike a match and light a fire. Checkley is a
+malignant old man. He is quite capable of charging you with the job. I
+wonder he hasn't done it by this time. Remember my case, old man.'
+Athelstan's face darkened at the recollection. 'Dirt sticks sometimes.
+Look at me. I am smirched all over.'</p>
+
+<p>'His manner was very odd this morning&mdash;insolent and strange. He began to
+talk mysteriously of the ingratitude of the forger.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why he's actually going to do it! Don't you see&mdash;he means that you are
+the forger?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! does he? Very well, Athelstan'&mdash;George finished his coffee and got
+up&mdash;'the sooner we find out this mystery of this Edmund Gray the better.
+Let us seek your tipsy Scholar.'</p>
+
+<p>They walked from Piccadilly to Holborn, turning the thing over and
+making a dozen surmises. Edmund Gray, twins: Edmund Gray, father and
+son&mdash;father wanting to destroy property, a Socialist; son wanting to
+steal property, individualist: Edmund Gray cousins&mdash;one the mild
+philosopher, rejoicing in the decay of wealth; the other a bandit,
+robber and conspirator: Edmund Gray, father and daughter&mdash;the young lady
+of the advanced type, who has not only thrown over her religion but her
+morals also: Edmund Gray, master and clerk: Edmund Gray under domination
+of a villain: there was in every situation a noble chance for the
+imagination. George showed a capacity unsuspected: he should have been a
+novelist. The hypothesis was always beautiful and admirable: but it
+wanted one thing&mdash;<i>vraisemblance</i>: one felt, even while advancing and
+defending one, that it was impossible.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>They turned into the gateway of the Inn and walked down the passage into
+the Square. 'Look!' Athelstan caught his companion by the wrist. 'Who is
+that?'</p>
+
+<p>'Checkley himself. He is coming out of No 22!'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, out of 22. What is he doing there? Eh? What has he been doing
+there?'</p>
+
+<p>It was Checkley. The old man walking feebly, with bent head, came out
+from the entrance of No. 22 and turned northward into Field Court. They
+waited, watching him, until he left the Square. 'What is he doing
+there?' asked George again. 'Come. Edmund Gray must be at home. Let us
+go up.'</p>
+
+<p>They found the outer door shut. They knocked with their sticks: there
+was no answer.</p>
+
+<p>'What was he doing here?' asked Athelstan.</p>
+
+<p>The Scholar's door stood open. The Scholar himself was for once
+perfectly sober, and welcomed them joyously and boisterously.</p>
+
+<p>'We are here on business, Freddy,' said Athelstan.</p>
+
+<p>'You are here to sit and talk and drink whisky-and-soda till midnight,
+till two o'clock in the morning. It is not until two in the morning that
+you can get the full flavour of the Inn. It is like a college then,
+monastic, shut off from the world, peaceful&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Business first, then. You know your neighbour, Mr. Edmund Gray?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. We exchange the compliments of the season and the news of
+the weather when we meet on the stairs. He has been in here, but not
+often. A man who drinks nothing is your true damper. That, believe me,
+and no other, was the veritable skeleton at the Feast.'</p>
+
+<p>'Our business concerns your neighbour, Mr. Edmund Gray. We want you to
+tell us what you know about him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Go on, then. Question, and I will answer, if I can.'</p>
+
+<p>'Does Mr. Edmund Gray live at these Chambers?'</p>
+
+<p>'No. He may sometimes sleep in them, but I should say not often. He
+calls at irregular intervals. Sometimes in the afternoon, sometimes in
+the morning, sometimes not for several weeks together. He is most
+uncertain.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do many people call upon him?'</p>
+
+<p>'No one ever calls upon him.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Does he keep clerks? Does he carry on an extensive correspondence?'</p>
+
+<p>'I have never heard the postman knock at his door.'</p>
+
+<p>'Has he a son or a brother or a partner or anything?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know. He may have these hindrances, but they are not apparent.'</p>
+
+<p>'What is his occupation or trade?'</p>
+
+<p>'He is a Socialist. He is athirst for the destruction of property.
+Meantime, I believe, he lives on his own. Perhaps his will be spared to
+the last. He is an old gentleman of pleasant manners and of benevolent
+aspect. The old women beg of him; the children ask him the time; the
+people who have lost their way apply to him. He dreams all the time: he
+lives in a world impossible. Oh! quite impossible. Why, in a world all
+Socialist, I myself should be impossible. They wouldn't have me. My old
+friend told me the other day that I should not be tolerated. They would
+kill me. All because I do no work&mdash;or next to none.'</p>
+
+<p>George looked at Athelstan. 'We are farther off than ever,' he said.</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Edmund Gray believes that the Kingdom of Heaven is a kind of hive
+where everybody has got to work with enormous zeal, and where nobody
+owns anything. Also he thinks that it is close at hand, which makes him
+a very happy old gentleman.'</p>
+
+<p>'This can't be Checkley,' said George.</p>
+
+<p>'It would seem not,' Athelstan replied. 'Did you ever see another old
+man up here&mdash;we saw him coming out just now&mdash;one Checkley, a lawyer's
+clerk?'</p>
+
+<p>'No; not up here. There is an elderly person&mdash;a Party&mdash;of the name, who
+uses the parlour of the <i>Salutation</i>, where I myself sometimes&mdash;one must
+relax&mdash;Porson loved a tavern; so did Johnson&mdash;I myself, I say, sometimes
+forget that I used to belong to the Combination room, and sit with
+Checkley and his companions. But I do not think he is a friend of Mr.
+Gray. As well call the Verger the friend of the Bishop. Mr. Gray is a
+gentleman and a scholar; he is a man of generous instincts and culture.
+He <i>could</i> not be a friend of the man Checkley.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yet we saw Checkley coming out of this very staircase.'</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>They talked of other things. They talked till midnight;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> when they came
+away the Scholar was at his best: one more glass&mdash;which he took after
+they left&mdash;would have turned the best into the worst.</p>
+
+<p>'We are as far off as before,' said George.</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;we are so much the nearer that we know who Edmund Gray is not. He
+is not Checkley. He has no clerks. He has no visitors. He comes seldom.
+George, this looks to me suspicious. We met Checkley stealing out of the
+door. Why does Edmund Gray keep these Chambers? No business done there:
+no letters brought there: no callers: the man does not live there. The
+Socialism may be&mdash;must be&mdash;a blind. Why does the man keep on these
+Chambers?'</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Meantime at the <i>Salutation</i> the usual company was assembled. 'I fear,'
+said the barrister, 'that we shall not have our friend the Scholar here
+this evening. As I came down the stairs I saw him through his door
+receiving two gentlemen&mdash;young gentlemen. He will display his wonted
+hospitality upon them this evening instead.' He sighed, and called for
+the glass of old and mild mixed, which was all he could afford. Had the
+Scholar been with them, certainly there would have been a nobler and a
+costlier glass. He took up the morning paper and began to read it.</p>
+
+<p>The conversation went on slowly and with jerks. A dull conversation: a
+conversation of men without ideas: a day-before-yesterday conversation:
+the slow exchange of short, solid sentences taken from the paper, or
+overheard and adopted. We sometimes praise the old tavern life, and we
+regret the tavern talk. We need not: it was dull, gross, ignorant, and
+flat: it was commonplace and conventional: because it was so dull, the
+men were fain to sing songs and to propose sentiments, and to drink more
+than was good for them. Why and when do men drink more than is good for
+them? First, when and because things are desperately dull: there is
+nothing to interest them: give them animation, thoughts, amusements, and
+they will not begin to drink. When they have begun, they will go on.
+When they have arrived at a certain stage, let them drink as fast as
+they can, and so get out of the way, because they will never mend, and
+they only cumber the earth. Here is, you see, a complete solution&mdash;a
+short solution&mdash;of the whole drink question. It will not be accepted,
+because people like a long solution&mdash;a three-column solution.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The barrister lifted his head. 'There is a letter here,' he said,
+interrupting the ex-M.P., who was clearing the way for what he called an
+argument by an introduction in the usual form. 'While on the one hand,
+gentlemen,' he was saying, 'I am free to confess&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'There is a letter here,' he repeated in a louder voice. The barrister
+was now old, but he could still assume at times the masterful manner of
+counsel before the Court, 'which should be read. It is a letter on
+Socialism.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ugh!' said the money-lender. 'Socialism! They want to destroy Property.
+Socialism! Don't tell me, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is a dream of what might be&mdash;a noble&mdash;a generous letter.' He looked
+round him. In their dull and fishy eyes there was no gleam or sparkle of
+response. 'I forgot,' he said; 'you cannot be interested in such a
+letter.&mdash;I beg your pardon, sir.' He bowed with great courtesy to the
+ex-M.P. 'I interrupted your valuable observations. We shall listen, I am
+sure, with&mdash;the&mdash;greatest&mdash;&mdash;' He buried his head in the paper again.</p>
+
+<p>The legislator began again. 'As I was a-saying, gentlemen, when I was
+interrupted, on the subject of education and the ratepayers, being a
+ratepayer myself, as we all are, and having our taxes to pay, which is
+the only advantage we ever get from being a ratepayer, while on the one
+hand I am free to confess&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Why!' the barrister interrupted once again, 'this letter is from a man
+on our staircase, No. 22'&mdash;Checkley started&mdash;'an acquaintance of mine,
+if I can call him so, and of our friend the Scholar. A very able man,
+now somewhat in years. By name Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>'What?' said Checkley, 'Edmund Gray? You know Edmund Gray?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. I have known him this nine years. Ever since he has been in
+the Inn.'</p>
+
+<p>'W-w-what sort of a man is he?' Checkley stammered in his eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>'A very good sort of a man. Why do you ask?'</p>
+
+<p>'I want to know&mdash;for his advantage&mdash;oh! yes&mdash;yes&mdash;for his own
+advantage.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes.' The barrister retreated to his paper. 'Oh, yes,' he added. 'Quite
+so.'</p>
+
+<p>'For his great personal advantage,' Checkley repeated.&mdash;'Robert, I think
+the gentleman would take a tumbler, if you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> will bring it&mdash;hot,
+Robert&mdash;strong&mdash;with lemon and sugar&mdash;a large rummer, Robert.'</p>
+
+<p>The ancient barrister's head behind the paper was observed to tremble.</p>
+
+<p>Robert returned with his rummer, the glass spoon tinkling an invitation.
+Dinner had been but a sorry affair that day&mdash;a stop-gap&mdash;insufficient in
+bulk; the tempted man felt a yearning that could not be resisted. He
+stretched out his hand and took the glass and tasted it. Then turning to
+Checkley:</p>
+
+<p>'You have purchased my speech, sir. You were asking me about Mr. Edmund
+Gray. What do you wish to know?'</p>
+
+<p>'Everything&mdash;his business&mdash;his private life&mdash;anything.'</p>
+
+<p>'As for his business, he has none; he is a gentleman living on his
+means&mdash;like myself; but his means are larger than my own: he has a
+residence elsewhere&mdash;I don't know where; he uses his Chambers but
+little: he has a collection of books there, and he keeps them for
+purposes of study.'</p>
+
+<p>'Does he call there every day?'</p>
+
+<p>'No. Only at irregular times. Sometimes not for many weeks together.'</p>
+
+<p>'Has he got any friends?'</p>
+
+<p>'I should say that he has no friends at all&mdash;at least none that come to
+the Inn. I have never heard or seen anyone in his room. A quiet man. No
+slammer. An excellent man to have on the staircase. No trampler; doesn't
+tramp up and down like an elephant. Isn't brought home drunk.'</p>
+
+<p>'What does he look like?'</p>
+
+<p>'He is a man advanced in years&mdash;perhaps seventy&mdash;a good-looking
+man&mdash;very cheerful countenance: tall and well set up still&mdash;wears a long
+frock coat. And that I believe is all I know about him.'</p>
+
+<p>'That's all you've got to tell me, is it?'</p>
+
+<p>'That is all, Mr. Checkley. Except that he has written a very remarkable
+letter to the <i>Times</i> of this morning.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, sir, if that is all, it isn't much for your rum-and-water, let me
+tell you.'</p>
+
+<p>The barrister rose and poured the half-glass that remained into the
+cinders. 'Then let me drink no more than my information was worth,' he
+said; and at the sight of so much magnanimity the broad earth trembled
+and Mr. Checkley sat aghast.</p>
+
+<p>The ex-statesman cleared his throat and began again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> 'After the third
+interruption, gentlemen, I may hope for a hearing. While, therefore, on
+the one hand&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE VOICE OF DUTY</h3>
+
+<p>Elsie in her studio was at work. She was painting a fancy portrait. You
+have seen how, before her interview with Mr. Dering, she transformed him
+from a hard and matter-of-fact lawyer into a genial, benevolent old
+gentleman. She was now elaborating this transformation. It is a
+delightful process, known to every portrait-painter, whereby a face
+faithfully represented becomes the face of another person, or the face
+as it might be, so that a hard and keen face, such as Mr. Dering's, may
+become a face ennobled with spiritual elevation, benevolence, charity,
+and kindness of heart. Or, on the other hand, without the least change
+of feature, this hard keen face may become, by the curve of a line or
+the addition of a shadow, the face of a cruel and pitiless Inquisitor.
+Or, again, any face, however blurred and marred by the life of its
+owner, may by the cunning portrait-painter be restored to the face
+intended by its Maker, that is to say, a sweet and serious face. Great
+indeed is the power, marvellous is the mystery, of the limner's art.</p>
+
+<p>'Now,' Elsie murmured, 'you look like some great philanthropist&mdash;a
+thoughtful philanthropist, not a foolish person: your high forehead and
+your sharp nostril proclaim that you are no impulsive gusher: your
+kindly eyes beam with goodness of heart: your lips are firm because you
+hate injustice. Oh, my dear guardian, how much I have improved you!
+Something like this you looked when you told me of my fortune&mdash;and like
+this when you spoke of your dream, and your illusions&mdash;something like
+this you looked.'</p>
+
+<p>She went on working at her fantasy, crooning a simple ditty, composed of
+many melodies running into one, as girls use when they are quite happy.
+The afternoon was hot. Outside, Elsie's windows looked upon a nest of
+little London gardens, where nasturtiums twisted round strings upon the
+walls; hollyhocks and sunflowers, which love the London smoke, lifted
+their heads; and Virginia creepers climbed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> the house-tops. The
+little London gardens do sometimes look gay and bright in the yellow
+glow of a July afternoon. The window was open, and the room was almost
+as hot as the street outside; we get so few hot days that one here and
+there cannot be too hot. On the table lay a photograph of her lover;
+over the mantel hung her own drawing in Pastel of that swain; on her
+finger was his ring: round her neck lay his chain: all day long she was
+reminded of him, if she should cease for a moment to think of him. But
+there was no need of such reminder. It was Friday afternoon, four days
+after the great Discovery. Elsie had been informed of the event, the
+news of which she received after the feminine manner, with an
+ejaculation of surprise and an interjection of sympathy. But one cannot
+expect a girl on the eve of her marriage to be greatly distressed
+because her guardian, a rich man, is annoyed by the temporary loss of
+certain shares. And as to finding the criminal and getting back those
+shares&mdash;it was man's work. All the troublesome and disagreeable part of
+the world's work belongs to man.</p>
+
+<p>It was nearly five o'clock. Elsie was beginning to think that she had
+done enough, and that, after tea, a walk in the Gardens might be
+pleasant. Suddenly, without any noise or warning of steps outside, her
+door was opened and her sister Hilda appeared. Now, so swift is the
+feminine perception, that Elsie instantly understood that something had
+happened&mdash;something bad&mdash;something bad to herself. For first, the door
+was opened gently, as in a house of mourning; and next, Hilda had on a
+dress&mdash;lavender with heliotrope, costly, becoming, sympathetic, and
+sorrowful&mdash;a half-mourning dress&mdash;and she stood for a moment at the door
+with folded hands, her classical head inclined a little downward to the
+left, and her eyes drooping&mdash;an artistic attitude of sadness. Hilda not
+only said the right thing and held the proper sentiments, but she liked
+to assume the right attitude and to personate the right emotion. Now it
+is given to woman, and only to her when she is young, tall, and
+beautiful, to express by attitude all or any of the emotions which
+transport or torture her fellow-creatures. Hilda, you see, was an
+artist.</p>
+
+<p>'Come in, dear,' said Elsie. 'I am sure that you have got something
+disagreeable to tell me.'</p>
+
+<p>Hilda kissed her forehead. 'My poor child,' she murmured. 'If it could
+have been told you by anybody else!'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;let us hear it. Is it anything very disagreeable?'</p>
+
+<p>'It is terrible. I tremble&mdash;I dare not tell you. Yet I must. You ought
+to know.'</p>
+
+<p>'If you would go on. It is much more terrible to be kept in suspense.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is about George.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' said Elsie, flaming. 'I have had so much trouble about George
+already, that I did think&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear, all opposition of the former kind is removed, as you know.
+This is something very different. Worse,' she added in a hollow
+voice&mdash;'far worse.'</p>
+
+<p>'For Heaven's sake, get along.'</p>
+
+<p>'He has told you about the dreadful robbery. Of course you have talked
+about nothing else since it happened. I found my mother full of it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;George is in charge of the case. He says that everything must be
+recovered, and that Mr. Dering will in the end suffer no more injury
+than the trouble of it.'</p>
+
+<p>'That may be so. Elsie&mdash;I hardly dare to tell you&mdash;there is a clue.
+Checkley has got that clue, and has told Sir Samuel everything. He is
+following up the clue. I shudder to think of it. The man is as
+relentless as a bloodhound.'</p>
+
+<p>'Does that clue concern me?' Her cheek became pale because she
+guessed&mdash;she knew not what.</p>
+
+<p>'Sir Samuel, against his will, is convinced that Checkley has found the
+clue. He has told me the whole. He has consented to my telling the
+dreadful story to my mother and to you&mdash;and now I am afraid. Yet I
+must.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie made a gesture of impatience.</p>
+
+<p>'Go back, Elsie, eight years, if you can. Remember the wretched business
+of our unworthy brother.'</p>
+
+<p>'I remember it. Not unworthy, Hilda. Our most unfortunate brother. Why,
+they have found the very notes he was charged with stealing. They were
+found in the safe on the very day when they made the other discovery.
+Have they not told you?'</p>
+
+<p>'Checkley told Sir Samuel. He also remembers seeing Athelstan place the
+packet in the safe.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Does he dare to say that? Why, Hilda, the robbery was proved to lie
+between himself and Athelstan. If he saw that, why did he not say so? He
+keeps silence for eight long years, and then he speaks.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Hilda shook her head sadly. 'I fear,' she said, 'that we cannot accept
+the innocence of our unfortunate brother. However, Athelstan was accused
+of forging Mr. Dering's handwriting and signature. In this new forgery,
+the same handwriting is found again&mdash;exactly the same. The forger is the
+same.'</p>
+
+<p>'Clearly, therefore, it cannot be Athelstan. That settles it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;unfortunately&mdash;it does settle it. Because, you see, Athelstan is
+in London. He is said to have been living in London all the time&mdash;in
+some wretched place called Camberwell, inhabited, I suppose, by runaways
+and low company of every kind. He has lately been seen in the
+neighbourhood of Gray's Inn, apparently passing under his own name.
+Checkley has seen him. Another person has seen him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Have you come to tell me that Athelstan is charged with this new
+wickedness?'</p>
+
+<p>'The forger must have had an accomplice in the office; a man able
+to get at the safe: able to intercept the post: acquainted with Mr.
+Dering's ways: such a man as&mdash;say&mdash;Checkley&mdash;or&mdash;the only other
+possible&mdash;George.' Hilda paused.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! This is too absurd. You are now hinting that George&mdash;my George,'
+she said proudly, 'was the confederate of Athelstan&mdash;no&mdash;of a forger.'</p>
+
+<p>'They have been seen together. They have been seen together at the house
+from which the forger addresses his letters. Has George told you that he
+has known all along&mdash;for eight years&mdash;of Athelstan's residence in
+London?'</p>
+
+<p>Observe how that simple remark made in the <i>Salutation</i> Parlour, that
+Athelstan must have been living in Camberwell, had by this time grown
+into a complete record of eight years' hiding, eight years' disgraceful
+company on the part of one, and eight years' complicity and guilty
+knowledge on the part of the other. Hilda had not the least doubt. It
+was quite enough for her that Checkley said so. Half the contents of our
+newspapers are conducted on the same confiding principle.</p>
+
+<p>'If George has not told me,' Elsie replied, 'it must be for some good
+reason. Perhaps he was pledged to secrecy.'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear'&mdash;Hilda rose impressively with fateful face-'the hand that
+forged the letters is the hand that forged the cheque&mdash;your brother's
+hand. The hand that took the certificates from the safe'&mdash;she laid her
+own upon Elsie's hand&mdash;'the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> hand of the confederate, my poor sister,
+is&mdash;your lover's hand.'</p>
+
+<p>'I knew,' said the girl, 'that you were coming to this. I have felt it
+from the beginning.'</p>
+
+<p>'Remember, the thing was done in the months of February, March, and
+April. First of all, Athelstan was then, as now, desperately poor: the
+life that he has led for the last eight years&mdash;the life of
+a&mdash;a&mdash;Camberwell profligate'&mdash;she spoke as if that respectable suburb
+was the modern Alsatia-'has certainly destroyed whatever was left of
+honour and of principle. There comes a time, I have read, in the career
+of every wicked man when he hesitates no longer whatever means are
+offered him of making money. Athelstan it was&mdash;so they believe&mdash;who
+devised this scheme, which has been as successful as it is disgraceful.
+My dear Elsie, this is the most terrible disgrace that has ever befallen
+my family: the most dreadful and the most unexpected calamity for you.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie caught her sister by the wrist. 'In the name of God, Hilda, are
+you telling me what is proved and true, or what is only suspected?'</p>
+
+<p>'I am telling you what is as good as proved. More than suspected.'</p>
+
+<p>'As good as proved. Oh!' Elsie drew a long breath. 'As good as proved.
+That is enough. Like Athelstan's guilt eight years ago,' she flared out
+suddenly, springing up again and walking about the room. 'Oh! it is
+wonderful!' she cried&mdash;'wonderful! What a family we are! We had a
+brother, and we believed that he was an honourable gentleman, as the son
+of his father must be. Then there was a charge, a foolish charge, based
+upon nothing but may&mdash;have&mdash;been and must&mdash;have&mdash;been&mdash;&mdash; We believed
+the charge&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Because we had no choice but to believe, Elsie,' her sister
+interrupted. 'Do you think we wanted to believe the charge?'</p>
+
+<p>'We should have believed him innocent until the thing was proved. We did
+not. We cast him out from among us; and now, after eight years&mdash;he has
+come back poor, you say, and sunk so low that he is ashamed to see his
+people, and we are going to believe another charge based on may have
+been and must have been. No, Hilda. I will not believe it&mdash;I will
+not.&mdash;And then there is George. If I cease to believe in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> honour and
+his truth, I cease to believe in everything. I cannot believe in Heaven
+itself unless I believe in my lover. Why, his heart is light about this
+business: he is not concerned: he laughs at that old man's ravings.
+Ravings? If Athelstan is right, then his is the hand that has done it
+all&mdash;his&mdash;Hilda&mdash;Checkley is the man concerned with both crimes.'</p>
+
+<p>Hilda shook her head. 'No, Elsie, no. The old man is above suspicion.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why should he be above suspicion more than George? And you ask me on
+the first breath of accusation to treat George as you treated Athelstan.
+Well&mdash;Hilda, I will not.'</p>
+
+<p>'I make every allowance for you, Elsie. It is a most dreadful
+business&mdash;a heart-breaking business. You may misrepresent me as much as
+you please&mdash; I will continue to make allowances for you. Meantime, what
+will you do?'</p>
+
+<p>'Do? What should I do? Nothing, nothing, nothing. I shall go on as if
+this thing had never happened.'</p>
+
+<p>'Sir Samuel ordered me to warn you most seriously. If you consent to see
+him again&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Consent? Consent? Why should I refuse? In a fortnight he will be my
+husband and my master, whom I must obey. He calls me his mistress now,
+but I am his servant. Consent to see him?' She sat down and burst into
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>'If you see him again,' her sister continued, 'warn him to leave the
+country. The thing is so certain that in a day or two the proofs will be
+complete, and it will then be too late. Make him leave the country. Be
+firm, Elsie. Better still, refuse to see him at all and leave him to his
+fate. What a fate! What madness!'</p>
+
+<p>'We allowed Athelstan to leave the country. He ought to have stayed. If
+I advise George at all I shall advise him to stick to his post and see
+the business through. If he were to leave the country, I would go with
+him.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are infatuated, Elsie. I can only hope that he may fly the country
+of his own accord. Meantime, there is one other point&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'What is it? Pray, don't spare me, Hilda. After what has gone before, it
+must be a very little point.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are bitter, Elsie, and I don't deserve your bitterness. But that is
+nothing. At such a moment everything must be pardoned and permitted. The
+point is about your wedding.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> It is fixed for the 12th of next month,
+less than three weeks from to-day. You must be prepared to put it off.'</p>
+
+<p>'Indeed! Because you say that a thing impossible is as good as proved!
+Certainly not, Hilda.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have come here to-day, Elsie, by Sir Samuel's express wish, in order
+to soften the blow and to warn you. Whether you will tell&mdash;that unhappy
+young man or not, is for you to decide. Perhaps, if you do, he may
+imitate our unworthy brother and run away. If he does not, the blow will
+fall to-morrow&mdash;to-day&mdash;the day after to-morrow&mdash;I know not when. He
+will be arrested: he will be taken before a magistrate: he will be
+remanded: he will be out on bail. Oh, Elsie, think of marrying a man out
+on bail! One might as well marry a man in convict dress. Oh! Horrible!'</p>
+
+<p>'I would rather marry George in convict dress than any other man in fine
+raiment. Because, once more, the thing is impossible.'</p>
+
+<p>'You carry your faith in your lover beyond bounds, Elsie. Of course a
+girl is right to believe in a man's honour. It makes her much more
+comfortable, and gives her a sense of security. Besides, we always like
+to believe that we are loved by the best of men. That makes us feel like
+the best of women.&mdash;But in this case, when I tell you that Sir Samuel&mdash;a
+man who has always lived among money&mdash;so to speak&mdash;and knows how money
+is constantly assailed&mdash;is firmly convinced of George's complicity, I do
+think that you might allow something for human frailty. In the case of
+Athelstan, what did Mr. Dering say? Everything is possible. So I say of
+George Austin, everything is possible.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not everything. Not that.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, even that.&mdash;What do you know of his private life? Why has he
+concealed the fact of Athelstan's residence in London? Why has he never
+told us of his friendship with that unfortunate outcast?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know. He has his reasons.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is a most dreadful thing for you,' Hilda went on. 'And after getting
+to believe in the man and&mdash;well&mdash;becoming attached to him&mdash;though such
+attachments mean little and are soon forgotten&mdash;and after going the
+length of fixing the day and ordering the dress and the wedding-cake,
+and putting up the banns&mdash;&mdash; Oh! it is a wretched business&mdash;a horrible
+misfortune. The only thing to be said is that in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> such a case, the fact
+being known to everybody, no one can blame a girl; and perhaps, in the
+long run, she will suffer no injury from it. Our circle, for instance,
+is so different from that of this young man's friends, that the thing
+would not even be known among us.'</p>
+
+<p>'I believe, Hilda, you will drive me mad.'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear, one must look ahead. And remember that I look ahead for you.
+As for the young man, I dissociate him henceforth from you. What he does
+and where he goes I do not inquire or care about, any more than I
+trouble myself about a disgraceful brother. Some acts cut a man off from
+his mistress&mdash;from his sisters&mdash;from the world.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do not talk any more,' said Elsie. 'Let the blow, as you call it, fall
+when it pleases. But as for me, I shall not warn George that he is to be
+charged with dishonesty, any more than I will believe him capable of
+dishonesty.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, my dear, there is one comfort for us. You may resolve on marrying
+him. But a man charged with a crime&mdash;out on bail&mdash;cannot marry any girl.
+And he will be charged, and the evidence is very strong.'</p>
+
+<p>'No doubt. As good as proved&mdash;as good as proved. Poor George! Who never
+had ten pounds in the world until he was made a partner&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'True. And there we have the real motive. Seek the motive, Sir Samuel
+says, and we shall find the criminal. Here you have the reason of the
+secret partnership with Athelstan. Poverty is the tempter&mdash;Athelstan is
+the suggested.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie shook her head impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Dering was to give you away. Who will now? Athelstan? How can
+we&mdash;Sir Samuel and I&mdash;assist at a wedding where the bridegroom lies
+under such a charge?&mdash;by one so near to us as Mr. Dering? How can your
+mother be present? Oh, Elsie, think!'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie shook her head again, with greater impatience.</p>
+
+<p>'Think what a fate you may be dragging upon yourself! Think of possible
+children with such a brand upon them!'</p>
+
+<p>'I think only of an honourable and an innocent man.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have just come from my mother, Elsie. She says positively that if the
+charge is brought, the wedding must be put off until the man is cleared.
+And for the moment she does not feel strong enough to meet him. You can
+receive him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> here if you please. And she desires that there may be no
+disputes or arguments about it.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is truly wonderful!' Elsie walked to the open window and gasped as
+if choking. 'Wonderful!' she repeated. 'The same fate&mdash;in the same
+manner&mdash;threatens George that fell upon Athelstan. And it finds us as
+ready to believe in the charge and to cast him out. Now, Hilda, go to my
+mother and tell her that though the whole world should call George&mdash;my
+George&mdash;a villain, I will marry him. Tell her that though I should have
+to take him from the prison door, I will marry him. Because, you see,
+all things are not possible. This thing is impossible.'</p>
+
+<p>'We shall have trouble with Elsie,' Lady Dering told her mother. 'Call
+her soft and yielding? My dear, no mule was ever more stubborn. She will
+marry her convict, she says, even at the prison door.'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<h3>WAS HE IN RAGS?</h3>
+
+<p>Stubborn as a mule. Yes&mdash;it is the way with some girls: man is soft as
+wax compared with woman: man concedes, compromises, gives way, submits:
+woman has her own way&mdash;when that way is the right way she becomes a
+pearl above price.</p>
+
+<p>Elsie, when the door was shut and her sister gone, stood silent,
+immovable. A red spot burned in her cheeks: her eyes were unnaturally
+bright: her lips parted: she was possessed by a mighty wrath and great
+determination: she was the tigress who fights for her beloved. Meantime,
+everything was changed: the sunshine had gone out of the day: the warmth
+out of the air: her work, that had pleased her so much an hour ago,
+seemed a poor weak thing not worth thinking about. Everything was a
+trifle not worth thinking about&mdash;the details of her wedding: her
+presents: her honeymoon: her pretty flat&mdash;all became insignificant
+compared with this threatened charge against her lover. How was it to be
+met? If it was only a suspicion put into shape by Sir Samuel and old
+Checkley it would be best to say nothing. If it was really going to be
+brought against him, would it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> not be best to warn him beforehand? And
+about her brother&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>She sat down and wrote out the facts. To be doing this cleared her
+brain, and seemed like working for her lover. In March 1882 a cheque for
+720<i>l</i>. to the order of one Edmund Gray was cashed in ten-pound notes by
+a commissionaire sent from an hotel in Arundel Street, Strand. No one
+ever found out this Edmund Gray. Athelstan was suspected. The notes
+themselves were never presented, and were found the other day in Mr.
+Dering's safe, covered with dust, at the back of some books.</p>
+
+<p>In February, March, and April, by means of forged letters, a great
+quantity of shares were transferred from the name of Edward Dering to
+that of Edmund Gray. The writing of the letters was the same as that of
+the forged cheque.</p>
+
+<p>These were the only facts. The rest was all inference and presumption.
+Athelstan had been seen in London: Athelstan had been living all the
+time in London: Athelstan had been seen going into the house which was
+given as the residence of Edmund Gray. Well&mdash;Athelstan must be seen the
+very first thing. Further than this point she could not get. She rang
+the bell, ordered tea to be brought to her own room, and then put on her
+hat and went out to the Gardens, where she walked about under the trees,
+disquieted and unhappy. If a charge is going to be brought against him,
+the most innocent man in the world must be disquieted until he knows the
+nature of the evidence against him. Once satisfied as to that, he may be
+happy again. What evidence could they bring against George?</p>
+
+<p>She went home about eight, going without dinner rather than sit down
+with her mother. It is a miserable thing for a girl to be full of
+hardness against her mother. Elsie already had experience, as you have
+seen. For the present better not to meet at all. Therefore she did not
+go home for dinner, but took a bun and a cup of coffee&mdash;woman's
+substitute for dinner&mdash;at a confectioner's.</p>
+
+<p>When George called about nine o'clock, he was taken into the studio,
+where he found Elsie with the traces of tears in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>'Why, Elsie,' he cried, 'what is the matter? Why are you crying, my
+dear? and why are you alone in this room?'</p>
+
+<p>'I choke in this house, George. Take me out of it&mdash;take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> me away. Let us
+walk about the Squares and talk. I have a good deal to say.'</p>
+
+<p>'Now, dear, what is it?'&mdash;when they were outside. 'What happened? You
+are trembling&mdash;you have been shaken. Tell me, dear.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't think I can tell you just at present&mdash;not all.'</p>
+
+<p>'Something then&mdash;the rest afterwards. Tell me by instalments.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are quite happy, George? Nobody has said anything to make you
+angry, at the office, or anywhere else?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nobody. We are going on just the same. Mr. Dering thinks and talks
+about nothing but the robbery. So do I. So does everybody else. I
+suppose Checkley has told, for every clerk in the place knows about it,
+and is talking about it. Why do you ask if anybody has made me angry?'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear George, Hilda has been here this afternoon. You know
+that&mdash;sometimes&mdash;Hilda does not always say the kindest things about
+people.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not always. I remember when she wrote me a letter asking whether I
+thought that a lawyer's clerk was a fit aspirant for the hand of her
+sister. Not always just the kindest things. But I thought we were all on
+the most affectionate terms, and that everything had been sponged out.
+Has she been saying more kind, sisterly, things about me? What have I
+done now? Isn't the money difficulty solved?'</p>
+
+<p>'I will tell you some other time&mdash;not now&mdash;what she said. At the present
+moment I want to ask you a question. If you have reasons for not
+answering, say so, and I shall be quite satisfied; but answer me if you
+can. This is the question. Hilda says that Athelstan is secretly in
+London, and that you know it, and that you have been seen with him. Is
+that true?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;Elsie&mdash;the only reason for not telling you that Athelstan is here
+is that he himself made me promise not to tell you. Athelstan is in
+London. I see him often. I shall see him this evening after leaving you.
+He is in London, walking about openly. Why not? I know no reason for any
+concealment. But he cannot go to see his mother, or enter his mother's
+house, until this charge against him has been acknowledged to be
+baseless. As for you, he will be the first person to visit you&mdash;and will
+be your most frequent visitor&mdash;when we are married. He is always talking
+about you. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> is longing for the time when he can see you openly. But
+nothing will persuade him to come here. He is still bitter against his
+mother and against Hilda.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie sighed. 'It is very terrible&mdash;and now&mdash;&mdash; But go on.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have answered your question, Elsie.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, no. I have only just begun. You say that Athelstan is in London;
+but you do not tell me what he is doing and how he fares.'</p>
+
+<p>'He fares very well, and he is prosperous.'</p>
+
+<p>'Hilda says that he has been living in some wretched quarter of London
+all these years; that he has been frequenting low company; and that he
+has been, until the last few weeks, in rags and penniless.'</p>
+
+<p>George laughed aloud. 'Where on earth did Hilda get this precious
+information? Athelstan in a low quarter? Athelstan a Prodigal? Athelstan
+in rags? My dearest Elsie, if Lady Dering were not your sister, I should
+say that she had gone mad with venomous hatred of the brother whom she
+made so much haste to believe guilty.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Tell me quick, George. Don't say anything against Hilda, please. I
+am already&mdash;&mdash; Tell me quick the whole truth.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, dear, the whole truth is this. Athelstan is doing very well. I
+suppose you might call him prosperous. When he went away, he had ten
+pounds to begin with. People kindly credited him with the nice little
+sum of 720<i>l</i>. obtained by a forgery. We now know that this money has
+been lying in the safe all the time&mdash;how it got there, the Lord
+knows&mdash;perhaps Checkley could tell. He went to America by the cheapest
+way possible. He had many adventures and many ups and downs, all of
+which he will tell you before long. Once he had great good fortune on a
+silver mine or something: he made thousands of pounds over it. Then he
+lost all his money&mdash;dropped it down a sink or into an open drain&mdash;you
+know, in America, these traps are plentiful, and started again on his
+ten pounds. He was a journalist all the time, and he is a journalist
+still. He is now over here as the London correspondent of a great paper
+of San Francisco.&mdash;That, my dear Elsie, is, briefly, the record of your
+brother since he went away.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! But are you quite sure, George?&mdash;quite&mdash;quite sure? Because, if
+this can be proved&mdash;&mdash;'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Nothing is more easy to prove. He brought letters to a London Bank
+introducing him as the correspondent, and empowering him to draw certain
+moneys.'</p>
+
+<p>'How long has Athelstan been at home?' She remembered the dates of the
+recent forgeries, and the alleged fact that all were in the same
+handwriting.</p>
+
+<p>'You are so persistent, Elsie, that I am certain you have got something
+serious on your mind&mdash;won't you tell me?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, George&mdash;not to-night. But&mdash;how long has Athelstan been in England?'</p>
+
+<p>'I will tell you exactly how and when I met him. Do you remember three
+weeks ago, that Sunday evening when we were so happy and so
+miserable&mdash;resolved on braving everything&mdash;going to live on love and a
+crust for the rest of our lives?&mdash;you poor, dear, brave girl!' He
+touched her fingers. 'I shall always be thankful for that prospect of
+poverty, because it revealed my mistress to me in all her loveliness of
+love and trust and courage.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, George&mdash;you spoil me. But then I know myself better.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;on that evening we went to Church together; and after Church, as
+I was not allowed in the house, we walked round and round the Square
+until the rain came on, and we had to go home. Well, you did not take
+any notice; but as you stood on the steps waiting for the door to be
+opened, a man was standing on the kerb under the lamp close by. When the
+door was shut behind you, I turned and walked away. This man followed me
+and clapped me on the shoulder. It was Athelstan.'</p>
+
+<p>'And I saw him and did not know him!'</p>
+
+<p>'He has grown a big beard now, and wore a felt hat. He is a picturesque
+object to look at. Ought to have been one of Drake's men. I daresay he
+was in a former existence. He had then been in England exactly a week,
+and every day he had prowled about the place in the hope of seeing
+you&mdash;not speaking to you&mdash;he trusted that you would not know him again.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, poor Athelstan! That is nearly three weeks ago. He has been in
+England four weeks&mdash;a month&mdash;and three&mdash;four&mdash;five months ago&mdash;where was
+he?'</p>
+
+<p>'I told you. In California.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! then he could not&mdash;possibly&mdash;not possibly&mdash;and it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> can be
+proved&mdash;and oh! George&mdash;George&mdash;I am so glad&mdash;I am so glad.' She showed
+her joy by a light shower of tears.</p>
+
+<p>'Why, my dear,' he said, soothing her, 'why are you so troubled and yet
+so glad?'</p>
+
+<p>'You don't quite understand, George. You don't know the things that are
+said. All these forgeries are in the same handwriting.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly.'</p>
+
+<p>'One man has written all these letters and cheques and things&mdash;both that
+of eight years ago and those of last March?'</p>
+
+<p>'That is perfectly certain.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then, don't you see? Athelstan was out of England when these
+newly-discovered forgeries were done. Therefore, he had no hand in them.
+Therefore, again, he could have had no hand in the earlier one. Why&mdash;you
+establish his innocence perfectly. Now you see one of the reasons why I
+was so glad.'</p>
+
+<p>The other reason&mdash;that this fact destroyed at one blow the whole of the
+splendid edifice constructed upon the alleged stay of Athelstan in
+London&mdash;Elsie concealed. Her heart, it must be acknowledged, was
+lightened. You may have the most complete belief in the innocence of a
+person, but it is well to have the belief strengthened by facts.</p>
+
+<p>'As for me,' said George, 'I have been so long accustomed to regard him
+as one of the worst used of men, that I never thought of that
+conclusion. Of course, if the handwriting is the same, and it certainly
+seems the same&mdash;a very good imitation of Mr. Dering's hand&mdash;there is
+nothing now to be said. Athelstan was in California in the spring. That
+settles it. And the notes were in the safe. Two clinchers. But to some
+minds a suspicion is a charge, and a charge is a fact.'</p>
+
+<p>'George, you must take me to Athelstan. Give me his address.'</p>
+
+<p>'He is in lodgings in Half Moon Street. I will ask him if he will meet
+you.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no; let me go to him. It is more fitting. You will see him
+presently. Will you tell him that I will call upon him to-morrow morning
+at eleven? And tell him, George, that something has happened&mdash;something
+that makes it impossible for me to remain at home&mdash;even for the short
+time before our wedding.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Elsie! this is very serious.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, it is very serious. Tell him that I shall ask him to receive me
+until the wedding, or until certain things have happened.&mdash;But in any
+case&mdash;oh! they must happen so&mdash;they must&mdash;it is too absurd.'</p>
+
+<p>'Elsie, my dear, you grow interjectional.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;yes. I mean, George, that if things turn out as I hope they may, I
+will go home again. If not, we will be married from Athelstan's
+lodgings.'</p>
+
+<p>'And you will not tell me what this terrible business is?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not to-night, George,' she repeated. 'It is very serious, and it makes
+me very unhappy that my mother and sister&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'It is something to do with me, Elsie, clearly. Never mind. You will
+tell me when you please. Whatever you do is sure to be right. I will see
+him this evening.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, George. I think that what I propose is the wisest thing to
+do. Besides, I want to be with you and Athelstan. Tell him that as he
+left the house eight years ago I leave it now.'</p>
+
+<p>'You? Why, my dear child, what forgeries have you been committing?'</p>
+
+<p>'None. And yet&mdash;&mdash; Well, George, that is enough about me and my
+troubles. Tell me now about your search into this business. How have you
+got on?'</p>
+
+<p>'There is nothing new to report. I told you that I left a note on Edmund
+Gray's table. No answer has come to that. The Bank has written to tell
+him that his letter of introduction was a forgery. No answer. The
+dividends are accumulating: he draws no cheques: he makes no sign. In a
+word, though this money is lying to his credit, and the shares are
+transferred to his name, and the letters give his address, there is
+nothing whatever to convict the man himself. We could not prove his
+signature, and he has taken none of the money. He might call any day and
+say that he knew nothing about it. I wonder he hasn't done it. When he
+does, we shall just have to put everything straight again. As for poor
+old Checkley, I really believe that he is going mad. If I meet him he
+glares; if he is in his master's room, his eyes follow me about under
+his shaggy eyebrows with a malignity which I have never seen painted. As
+for being described, words couldn't do it. I suppose he sees that the
+end is inevitable. Really, Elsie, the man would murder me if he dared.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'The man is dangerous, George, as well as malignant. But I think he will
+do you no harm in the long run. Have you told Athelstan what is going
+on?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. He follows the business with the greatest interest. He
+agrees with me that the thing is done out of the office with the help of
+some one in it. Now, the point is, that the man in the office must have
+the control of the post. All the letters must pass through his hands.
+'Who is that man? No one but Checkley. Everything turns on that. Now,
+here is a lucky accident. An old friend of Athelstan's, a man who
+coaches, has Chambers on the same stairs and on the same floor. He knows
+this Mr. Edmund Gray. We have been to his rooms to question him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Is it to see this old friend that Athelstan visits No. 22?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes. His name is Carstone&mdash;commonly called Freddy Carstone&mdash;a pleasing
+man, with a little weakness, which seems to endear him to his friends.'</p>
+
+<p>'This is the way in which things get distorted in a malignant mind!
+Well. What did this gentleman tell you about this mysterious Edmund
+Gray?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing definite. That he is some kind of Socialist we knew before:
+that he has occupied the Chambers for ten years or so we knew before.
+Also, that he is an elderly gentleman of benevolent aspect. And that he
+is irregular in his visits to his Chambers. We seem to get no further.
+We see Checkley coming out of the house. That connects him, to be sure.
+But that is not much. There is no connection established between Edmund
+Gray and the forgeries in his name. Nor between Checkley and the
+forgeries. One feels that if one could lay hold of this mysterious
+elderly gentleman, a real step in advance would be taken.'</p>
+
+<p>'You talked at first of arresting him on the charge.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;there is no evidence. His name has been used&mdash;that is all. On
+that evidence no magistrate would issue a warrant. Sometimes one's head
+goes round with the bewilderment of it. I've managed to learn something
+about Checkley in the course of these inquiries. He is quite a great
+man, Elsie; a tavern oracle in the evening; a landlord and householder
+and collector of his own rents at odd hours; a capitalist and a miser.
+But he is not, as thought at first&mdash;Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>They had by this time got round to the house again. 'Go,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> now, George,'
+said Elsie. 'See Athelstan this evening. Tell him that I must go to him.
+I will tell him why to-morrow.'</p>
+
+<p>'If he is not at his club I will go to his lodgings. If he is not there
+I will wait till he comes home. And before I go home I will drop a note
+for you.&mdash;Good-night, sweetheart&mdash;good-night.'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PRODIGAL AT HOME</h3>
+
+<p>In the morning, Elsie rose at seven and put together such things as she
+should want for the three weeks before her marriage, if she was to spend
+that interval under her brother's care. At eight o'clock she received
+her letters&mdash;including one in a handwriting she did not know. She opened
+it.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'Dear Elsie,' it said, 'come to me at once. Come early. Come
+to breakfast at nine. I will wait for you till ten, or any
+time.</p></div>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 28em;">'Your affectionate Brother,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;">'<span class="smcap">Athelstan</span>.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' she murmured. 'And I did not know his writing. And to think that I
+am twenty-one, and he is thirty-one; and that I have never had a letter
+from him before!'</p>
+
+<p>Her boxes were packed. She put on her jacket and hat and descended into
+the breakfast-room, where her mother was already opening her letters and
+waiting breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>'You are going out, Elsie?' she asked coldly.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes. Hilda told you, I suppose, what she came here for yesterday. In
+fact, you sent me a message.'</p>
+
+<p>'I hope she delivered it correctly.'</p>
+
+<p>'She said that you would not sanction my wedding while this charge, or
+suspicion, was hanging over George's head. And that you would not see
+him until it was withdrawn or cleared away.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. In such a case it would be worse than hypocrisy to receive
+him with friendliness.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then, like Hilda, you accept the conclusion.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am unable to do anything else. The conclusion seems<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> to me
+inevitable. If not, let him explain. I hope that no time will be lost in
+bringing the formal charge. It is foolish kindness&mdash;real cruelty&mdash;to all
+concerned to keep such a thing hanging over our heads. I say <i>our</i>
+heads, not yours only, Elsie, because you know your brother is
+implicated&mdash;perhaps the real contriver&mdash;of the dreadful scheme.'</p>
+
+<p>'Would you believe me if I were to tell you that Athelstan <i>could</i> not
+be implicated?'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear&mdash;believe you? Of course, I would believe if I could.
+Unfortunately, the evidence is too strong.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie sighed. 'Very well; I will say nothing more. You have driven out
+my lover, as you drove out my brother for the self-same cause, and on
+the self-same charge. I follow my lover and my brother.'</p>
+
+<p>'Elsie!'&mdash;her mother started. 'Do not, I pray you, do anything rash.
+Remember&mdash;a scandal&mdash;a whisper even&mdash;may be fatal to you hereafter. Sit
+down and wait. All I ask you to do is to wait.'</p>
+
+<p>'No; I will not wait. If those two are under any cloud of suspicion, I
+too will sit under the cloud and wait until it lifts. I am going to stay
+with my brother until my wedding. That is to be on the 12th.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no&mdash;my poor child. There will be no wedding on the 12th.'</p>
+
+<p>'Before that time, everything will be cleared up, and I shall be
+married from this house, so that I have left all my things, my
+presents&mdash;everything.'</p>
+
+<p>Her mother shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>'Try not to think so cruelly of George and of Athelstan, mother. You
+will be sorry afterwards. Try to believe that though a case may look
+strange, there may be a way out.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have told you'&mdash;her mother was perfectly cold and unmoved&mdash;'that I
+have come to this conclusion on the evidence. If the young man can
+explain things, let him do so. There will be no wedding on the 12th,
+Elsie. You can come home as soon as you are convinced that your brother
+is an improper person for a young lady to live with, and as soon as you
+have learned the truth about the other young man. That is to say, I will
+receive you under these distressing circumstances, provided there has
+been no scandal connected with your name.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Elsie turned and left the room. The Fifth Commandment enjoins that under
+such circumstances as these the least said the soonest mended.</p>
+
+<p>When a man learns that his sister, his favourite sister, from whom he
+has been parted for eight years, the only member of his family who stood
+up for him when he was falsely accused of a disgraceful thing, is about
+to take breakfast with him, he naturally puts as much poetry into that
+usually simple meal as circumstances allow. Mostly Athelstan took a cup
+of coffee and a London egg. This morning he had flowers, raspberries
+lying in a bed of leaves, a few late strawberries, various kinds of
+confitures in dainty dishes, toast and cake, with fish and
+cutlets&mdash;quite a little feast. And he had had the room cleared of the
+bundles of newspapers; the pipes and cigar-cases and all the
+circumstances of tobacco were hidden away&mdash;all but the smell, which
+lingered. One thinks a good deal about a sister's visit, under such
+conditions. At a quarter past nine Elsie arrived. Athelstan hastened to
+open the door, and to receive her with open arms and kisses strange and
+sweet. Then, while the people of the house took in her luggage, he led
+his sister into the room, which was the front room on the ground-floor.</p>
+
+<p>'Elsie!' he said, taking both her hands in his, 'eight years since we
+parted&mdash;and you are a tall young lady whom I left a little girl. To hold
+your hand&mdash;to kiss you, seems strange after so long.' He kissed her
+again on the forehead. She looked up at the tall handsome man with a
+kind of terror. It was almost like casting herself upon the care of a
+strange man.</p>
+
+<p>'I remember your voice, Athelstan, but not your face. You have changed
+more than I, even.'</p>
+
+<p>'And I remember your voice, Elsie&mdash;always a soft and winning voice,
+wasn't it?&mdash;to suit soft and winning ways. There never was any child
+more winning and affectionate than you&mdash;never.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! you are grown very handsome, Athelstan. See what a splendid beard,
+and the brown velvet jacket, and white waistcoat&mdash;and the crimson tie.
+You look like an artist. I wish all men wore colours, as they used to
+do. I only heard yesterday that you were in London. Hilda told me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Was that the reason why you cannot stay at home?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Part of the reason. But you shall have breakfast first. You can take me
+in without any trouble?'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear child, I am more than delighted to have you here. There is a
+room at the back where you will be quiet: we have only this one room for
+sitting-room, and I think we shall find it best to go out every day to
+dinner. That will not hurt us, and George will come every evening.&mdash;Now,
+Elsie, you sit here, and I will&mdash;&mdash; No&mdash; I quite forgot. You will pour
+out the tea. Yes&mdash;I see. I thought I was going to wait upon you
+altogether.&mdash;There&mdash;now you will make a good breakfast, and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;
+Don't cry, dear child.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;Athelstan.' She brushed away the tears. 'It is nothing. I shall be
+very happy with you. But why are you not at home? And why am I here? Oh!
+it is too cruel&mdash;too perverse of them!'</p>
+
+<p>'We had better have it out before breakfast, then.&mdash;Strawberries don't
+go well with tears, do they? Nor jam with complainings. Come, Elsie, why
+need you leave home?'</p>
+
+<p>'Because, in two words, they are treating George as they treated you. I
+was younger then, or I would have gone away with you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Treating George? Oh! I understand. They are pouring suspicion upon him.
+Well, I saw that this was coming. Old Checkley, I swear, is at the
+bottom of this.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;Checkley went to Sir Samuel with the "Case," as he called it,
+complete. He has proved to their joint satisfaction that nobody could
+have done the thing except George, assisted by you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! assisted by me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;while you were in California, I suppose. There is to be a warrant
+for your arrest&mdash;yours and George's&mdash;in a few days, they say. Hilda
+brought the news to my mother. They both believe it, and they want me to
+break off my engagement. My mother refuses to see George so long as this
+charge, as she calls it, remains over him. So I came away.'</p>
+
+<p>'You did wisely. Well&mdash;any one may call up a cloud of suspicion, and it
+is sometimes difficult to disperse such a cloud. Therefore, we must do
+everything we can to find out who is the real criminal.&mdash;Now, let us
+rest quite easy. There can be no arrest&mdash;or any charge&mdash;or anything but
+a fuss created by this old villain. It is only troublesome to find one's
+own people so ready to believe.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Why did you not tell me that you were home again?'</p>
+
+<p>'Pour out the coffee, Elsie, and begin your breakfast. I wanted to
+reserve the Return of the Prodigal until you came home after your
+honeymoon. Then I meant to call mysteriously about sunset, before George
+was home. I thought I would have a long cloak wrapped about me. I should
+have begun: "Madam: you had once a brother."&mdash;"I had"&mdash;that is you.&mdash;"On
+his deathbed."&mdash;"My brother dead?"&mdash;that's you.&mdash;"With this
+packet."&mdash;Oh! we have lost a most beautiful little play. How can I
+forgive you?'</p>
+
+<p>Then they went on with breakfast, talking and laughing until, before the
+meal was finished, they had lost their shyness and were brother and
+sister again.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast, Athelstan took a cigarette and an easy-chair. 'Now I am
+going to devote the whole day to you. I have nothing to do for my paper
+which cannot wait till to-morrow. All this morning we will talk&mdash;that
+is, until we are tired. We will have lunch somewhere, and go to see the
+pictures; George will come at about seven: we will have dinner, and go
+to some exhibition, somewhere. Then we will get home, and have another
+talk. To-morrow, I shall have to leave you to your own devices between
+ten and six or so. I am very busy some days: on others, I can find time
+for anything.&mdash;Now that's all cleared up. I am to be your banker and
+everything.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not my banker, Athelstan. Oh! you don't know. I am a great heiress.'</p>
+
+<p>'Indeed? How is that?' he asked, a little twinkle in his eye.</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Dering told me when I was twenty-one, three weeks ago. Somebody has
+given me an immense sum of money&mdash;thirteen thousand pounds.'</p>
+
+<p>'That is a very handsome sum. Who gave it to you?'</p>
+
+<p>'That is a secret. Mr. Dering refuses to tell me. I wish I knew.'</p>
+
+<p>'I wouldn't wish if I were you. Gratitude is at all times a burden and a
+worry. Besides, he might be a vulgar person without aspirates or
+aspirations. Much better not inquire after him. Thirteen thousand pounds
+at three and a half per cent. means four hundred and fifty pounds a
+year. A nice little addition to your income. I congratulate you, Elsie;
+and this evening we will drink the health of the unassuming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> benefactor;
+the retiring and nameless recogniser of maidenly worth. Bless him!'</p>
+
+<p>'And now, Athelstan, begin your adventures. Tell me everything: from the
+day you left us till now. You cannot tell me too much or talk too long.
+Before you begin, ask any questions about my mother and Hilda that you
+want to ask. Then we can go on undisturbed.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have no questions to ask about either. I have already ascertained
+from George that both are in good health, and that Hilda has married a
+man with an immense fortune. That is happiness enough for her, I
+hope.&mdash;Now, Elsie, I shall be tedious, I am afraid; but you shall hear
+everything.'</p>
+
+<p>He began. It was such a narrative as thousands of young Englishmen have
+been able to tell during the last five-and-twenty years. The story of
+the young man with a few pounds in his pocket, no friends, no
+recommendations, and no trade. Athelstan landed at New York in this
+condition. He looked about for employment and found none. He hastened
+out of the crowded city: he went West, and got work in the business open
+to every sharp and clever man&mdash;that of journalism. He worked for one
+paper after another, getting gradually more and more West, until he
+found himself in San Francisco, where he was taken on by a great paper,
+which had now sent him over here as its London correspondent. That was
+all the story; but there were so many episodes in it, so many
+adventures, so many men whom he remembered, so many anecdotes cropping
+up, in this eight years' history of a man with an eye, a brain, and a
+memory, that it was long past luncheon-time when Athelstan stopped and
+said that he must carry on the next chapter at another time.</p>
+
+<p>'That pile of dollars that you made over the silver mine,
+Athelstan&mdash;what became of them?'</p>
+
+<p>'What became of them? Well, you see, Elsie, in some parts of the United
+States money vanishes as fast as it is made. All these dollars dropped
+into a deep hole of the earth, and were hopelessly lost.'</p>
+
+<p>She laughed. 'You will tell me some day&mdash;when you please&mdash;how you lost
+that fortune. Oh! what a thing it is to be a man and to have all these
+adventures!&mdash;Now, Athelstan, consider&mdash;if it had not been for your bad
+fortune, you would never have had all this good fortune.'</p>
+
+<p>'True. Yet the bad fortune came in such an ugly shape.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> There has been a
+black side to my history. How was I to tell people why I left my own
+country? I could make no friends. At the first appearance of friendship,
+I had to become cold, lest they should ask me where I came from and why
+I left home.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie was silent.</p>
+
+<p>They carried out part of their programme. They went to see the
+pictures&mdash;it was eight years since Athelstan had seen a picture&mdash;and
+after the pictures they walked in the Park. Then they went home and
+waited for George, who presently appeared. Then they went to one of the
+Regent Street restaurants and made a little feast. After this, Elsie
+asked them to come home and spend a quiet evening talking about things.</p>
+
+<p>By common consent they avoided one topic. Edmund Gray was not so much as
+mentioned, nor was the malignity of Checkley alluded to. They talked of
+old days, when Athelstan was a big boy and George a little boy and Elsie
+a child. They talked of the long engagement, and the hopeless time, when
+it seemed as if they were going to marry on two hundred pounds a year:
+and of that day of miracle and marvel when Mr. Dering gave to one of
+them a fortune, and to the other a partnership. They talked of their
+honeymoon and the tour they were going to make, and the beautiful places
+they would see. Tours and Blois, Chenonceaux and Amboise; Angoul&ecirc;me and
+Poitiers and La Rochelle; and of their return, and the lovely flat,
+where the friends would be made so welcome. Athelstan was a person of
+some sympathy. Elsie talked as freely to him as she could to George.
+They talked till midnight.</p>
+
+<p>Then Elsie got up. 'Whatever happens, Athelstan,' she said,
+'mind&mdash;whatever happens, you shall give me away on the 12th.'</p>
+
+<p>'Now she has left us,' said George, 'you may tell me why she refused to
+stay at home.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;I suppose you ought to know. Much for the same reason that I
+refused to stay at home. They then chose to jump at the conclusion that
+at one step I had become, from a man of honour, a stupid and clumsy
+forger. They now choose&mdash;I am ashamed to say&mdash;my mother and sister
+choose&mdash;to believe that you and I together have devised and invented
+this elaborate scheme of forgery. With this end in view, it has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> been
+found necessary to contrive certain little fabrications&mdash;as that I have
+been living in London on my wits&mdash;that is to say, by the exercise of
+cheatery&mdash;for the last eight years; and that, being in rags and
+penniless, I persuaded you to join me in this neat little buccaneering
+job.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! it is too absurd! But I suspected something. Well&mdash;it is perfectly
+easy to put a stop to that.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, it is easy. At the same time, it will be well to put a stop to it
+as soon as possible, before the thing assumes serious proportions, and
+becomes a horrid thing, that may stick to you all your life. You have
+got to do with a malignant man&mdash;perhaps a desperate man. He will spread
+abroad the suspicion as diligently as he can. Let us work, therefore.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;but what can we do, that we have not done? How can we fix the
+thing upon Checkley?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know. We must think&mdash;we must find out something, somehow. Let
+us all three work together. Elsie will make the best detective in the
+world. And let us work in secret. I am very glad&mdash;very glad indeed&mdash;that
+Elsie came.'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<h3>THE WHISPER OF CALUMNY</h3>
+
+<p>Whispered words are ever more potent than words proclaimed aloud upon
+the house-top. If the envious man from the house-top denounces a man of
+reputation as a thief, a gambler, a patricide, a sororicide, amicocide,
+no man regardeth his voice, though he call out with the voice of
+Stentor: people only stare: these are the words of a madman or a
+malignant. But whisper these charges in the ear of your neighbour:
+whisper them with bated breath: say that, as yet, the thing is a
+profound secret. Then that rumour swiftly flies abroad, until every
+burgess in the town regards that man askance; and when the time for
+voting comes, he votes for another man, and will not have him as beadle,
+sexton, verger, schoolmaster, turncock, policeman, parish doctor,
+workhouse chaplain, common-councilman, alderman, Mayor, or Member of
+Parliament. And all for a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>It was Checkley who set going the whisper, which at this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> moment was
+running up and down the office, agitating all hearts, occupying all
+minds, the basis of all conversation.</p>
+
+<p>King Midas's servant, when he was irresistibly impelled to whisper, dug
+a hole in the ground and placed his whisper at the bottom of that hole.
+But the grasses grew up and sighed the words to the passing breeze, so
+that the market women heard them on their way: 'The King's ears are the
+ears of an Ass&mdash;the ears of an Ass&mdash;the ears of an Ass.' The old and
+trusty servant of Dering and Son buried his secret in the leaves of his
+Copying-book. Here it was found by the boy who worked the Copying-press.
+As he turned over the pages, he became conscious of a sibilant,
+malignant, revengeful murmur: 'Who stole the bonds? The new
+Partner.&mdash;Who forged the letters? The new Partner.&mdash;Who robbed the safe?
+The new Partner.' Here was a pretty thing for a pretty innocent office
+boy to hear! Naturally, his very soul became aflame: when the dinner
+hour arrived, he told another boy as a profound secret what he had
+heard. That boy told an older boy, who told another still older, who
+told another, and so up the long official ladder, until everybody in the
+place knew that the new Partner&mdash;actually the new Partner&mdash;the most
+fortunate of all young men that ever passed his Exam.&mdash;who had stepped
+at a bound from two hundred to a thousand, at least&mdash;this young man, of
+all young men in the world, had forged his partner's name, robbed his
+partner's safe, made away with his partner's property. Who after this
+can trust anybody?</p>
+
+<p>But others there were who refused to believe this thing. They pointed
+out that the new Partner continued&mdash;apparently&mdash;on the best of terms
+with the old Partner: they argued that when such things are done,
+friendships are killed and partnerships are dissolved. They even went so
+far, though members of the great profession which believes in no man's
+goodness, as to declare their belief that the new Partner could not
+possibly by any temptation do such things. And there were others who
+pointed to the fact that the whisper came from the boy of the
+Copying-press: that he heard it whispered by the fluttering leaves: and
+that it was imparted to those leaves by Checkley&mdash;old Checkley&mdash;whose
+hatred towards the new Partner was notorious to all men: not on account
+of any personal qualities or private injuries, but out of the jealousy
+which made him regard the Chief as his own property: and because he had
+been deprived of his power in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> the office&mdash;the power of appointment and
+disappointment and the raising of screw, which he had previously
+possessed. Checkley was dethroned. Therefore, Checkley spread this
+rumour. Others, again, said that if the rumour was really started by
+Checkley, which could not be proved, seeing that, like all whispers or
+rumours, the origin was unknown, and perhaps supernatural, then Checkley
+must have very strong grounds for starting such a thing.</p>
+
+<p>Thus divided in opinion, the office looked on, expectant. Expectancy is
+a thing which gets into the air: it fills every room with whispers: it
+makes a conspirator or a partisan or a confederate of every one: it
+divides a peaceful office into camps: it is the cause of inventions,
+lies, and exaggerations. There were two parties in this office&mdash;one
+which whispered accusations, and the other which whispered denials.
+Between these hovered the wobblers or mugwumps, who whispered that while
+on the one hand&mdash;on the other hand&mdash;and that while they readily
+admitted&mdash;so they were free to confess&mdash;&mdash;Everybody knows the wobbler.
+He is really, if he knew it, the master of the situation; but, because
+he is a wobbler, he cannot use his strength. When he is called upon to
+act, he falls into two pieces, each of which begins to wobble and to
+fall into other two pieces of its own accord. The whole process of a
+Presidential Election&mdash;except the final voting&mdash;was going on in that
+office of half-a-dozen rooms, but in whispers, without a single
+procession, and not one German band. And all unconscious of the tumult
+that raged about him&mdash;a tumult in whispers&mdash;a civil war in silence&mdash;the
+object of this was going on his way unconscious and undisturbed.</p>
+
+<p>Now, however, having learned that the old clerk was actually seeking to
+fix this charge upon him, George perceived the whispering and understood
+the charge. When he passed through the first or outer office in the
+morning, he perceived that the clerks all looked at him curiously, and
+that they pretended not to be looking at him, and plied their pens with
+zeal. On the stairs he met an articled clerk, who blushed a rosy red
+with consciousness of the thing: on his way to his own room through his
+own clerks' room, he felt them looking after him curiously as he passed;
+and he felt them, when his own door was closed, whispering about him.
+This made him extremely angry. Yet, for a whisper, one cannot suffer
+wrath to become visible. That would only please the whisperers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> There
+is only one thing worse than to be suspected rightly; it is to be
+suspected wrongly; for the latter makes a man mad. What? That he&mdash;even
+he&mdash;the man of principle and rule, should be suspected! Does nothing,
+then&mdash;no amount of character, no blamelessness of record, avail? Is the
+world coming to an end?</p>
+
+<p>George then shut his door and sat down to his table in a very wrathful
+and savage frame of mind. And while he was just beginning to nurse and
+nourish this wrath, coaxing it from a red glow to a roaring flame, a
+card was brought to him.</p>
+
+<p>'I will see Sir Samuel at once,' he said.</p>
+
+<p>It is as well that we do not hear the remarks of the clerks' room and
+the servants' hall. The Service, in fact, is a body of critics whose
+judgments would, if we only heard them, cause us to reconsider our
+self-respect. Great Philanthropist, great Statesman, saintly
+Preacher&mdash;if you only knew what they say of you&mdash;down below!</p>
+
+<p>The clerks, as Sir Samuel Dering&mdash;his face composed to the solemnity of
+a mute&mdash;walked into the new Partner's room, whispered to each other:
+'He's going to finish him. There'll be a bolt to-night.&mdash;He won't dare
+face it out.&mdash;He <i>have</i> got a nerve!!!&mdash;The game's up at last.&mdash;They
+won't prosecute; you see if they do. If it was one of us, now.&mdash;Sir
+Samuel's come to warn him&mdash;now you'll see.' With other exchanges and
+surmises.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Samuel, big and important, coldly inclined his head and took a
+chair. 'A few words,' he said&mdash;'a few serious words, if you please,
+sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'Pray, go on.' George sat up and listened, his upper lip stiffened. He
+knew what was coming. The thing which Sir Samuel proposed to say,
+apparently became difficult. He turned red and stammered. In fact, it is
+very difficult to inform a highly respectable young man in a highly
+respectable position that he is going to be charged with a crime of
+peculiar atrocity.</p>
+
+<p>'I am here,' he said, after two or three false starts, 'without my
+brother's knowledge. This is a private and unofficial visit. I come to
+advise. My visit must be regarded as without prejudice.'</p>
+
+<p>'Is it not well to ask first of all if your advice is invited?'</p>
+
+<p>'In such a case as this, I venture to obtrude advice,' Sir<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> Samuel
+replied with dignity. 'There are occasions on which a man should
+speak&mdash;he is bound to speak. You will remember that I was to have been
+your brother-in-law&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'You are to be my brother-in-law. Well, Sir Samuel, go on. I will hear
+what you have to say.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are, as no doubt you suspect and fear, about to be charged in
+company with another, with complicity in this long series of forgeries.'</p>
+
+<p>'Really? I heard last night from Elsie that there was some talk of such
+a charge. Now, Sir Samuel, a man of your experience must be aware that
+it is not enough for a foolish old clerk to suggest a charge; but there
+must be some connection between the accused person and the crime.'</p>
+
+<p>'Connection? Good Heavens! There is a solid chain of evidence, without a
+single weak point.'</p>
+
+<p>'Is there indeed? Well, we will not ask for the production of your
+chain. Let us take it for granted. Go on to the next point.'</p>
+
+<p>'I wish, young gentleman, I wish most sincerely, for the credit
+of yourself, and for the happiness of the unfortunate girl who
+has given you her heart, that my chain was of glass, to fly into
+a thousand fragments. But it is not. Everything is complete. The
+motive: the tempter: the conspiracy: the working out: the apparent
+success&mdash;everything complete. The motive&mdash;want of money.'</p>
+
+<p>'Want of money? Well, I was pretty badly off. That cannot be denied. Go
+on.'</p>
+
+<p>'You wanted money&mdash;both of you&mdash;wanted money. In ninety cases out of a
+hundred, this is the cause&mdash;wanted money. So you went and did it. Always
+the way in the City&mdash;they want money&mdash;and so they go and do it&mdash;go and
+do it.'</p>
+
+<p>'I see. Well, we need not have the tempter and the rest of it. They can
+wait. Let us go on to the advice.'</p>
+
+<p>'Just so. What I came to say is this. You are in a devil of a mess,
+young gentleman: the whole job is found out: there's no use in trying to
+brazen it out. Best come down at once.'</p>
+
+<p>George nodded with as much good humour as he could assume under the
+circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>'Down at once,' Sir Samuel repeated. 'It is always best in the long run.
+In your case, there is every reason why a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> scandal should be avoided.
+The thing hasn't got into the papers: we are only yet in the first stage
+of finding out what has been actually stolen: it has not been a case in
+which the police could help. Now my brother is not a vindictive man. I,
+for my own part, don't want my wife's brother, to say nothing of you,
+convicted of forgery. Eh? Beastly thing, to go down to the City in the
+morning and to hear them whispering, "That's his wife's brother in the
+papers to-day. Lagged for fifteen years." Fifteen years for certain, it
+will be, my fine fellow.'</p>
+
+<p>'Fifteen years for certain,' George repeated.</p>
+
+<p>'Let me help you out of the mess. Don't make difficulties. Don't stick
+out your chin. Think of Elsie!'</p>
+
+<p>George nearly lost his self-control&mdash;not quite.</p>
+
+<p>'Think of Elsie!' he cried. 'Best not mention her name, Sir Samuel, if
+you please.'</p>
+
+<p>'She would be heart-broken if it went so far. If it stops short of that,
+she will soon get over the little disappointment.'</p>
+
+<p>'Go on to the next point.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;it is just this. I'll help you both&mdash;Athelstan as well as
+you&mdash;yes&mdash;I'll help Athelstan. Hang the fellow! Why couldn't he stay at
+Camberwell? Who cares about him and his bad company, if he keeps himself
+out of people's way? Now, then. Let me have back the money. You haven't
+drawn anything out of the Bank. Give me the papers. Then I'll square it
+with my brother. I will advance you a hundred or two: you shall go clear
+out of the country, and never come back again. And then, though it's
+compounding a felony, we'll just put everything back again, and say
+nothing more about it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! That is very good of you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I know. But I want to make things easy. I don't want a beastly row
+and a scandal. As for Athelstan, I shouldn't know the fellow if I ever
+saw him. I hardly remember him. But for you I've always had a liking,
+until these little events happened.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very good, indeed, of you.'</p>
+
+<p>'When the thing came out, I said to Lady Dering. "My dear," I said, "I'm
+very sorry for your sister, because it will vex her more than a bit. The
+engagement, of course, will be broken off; but we must not have a
+scandal. We cannot afford it. We can not"&mdash;he smiled&mdash;"we are positively
+not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> rich enough. Only the very richest people can afford to have such a
+scandal. I will try and get things squared," I said, "for all our
+sakes." That is what I said to Lady Dering. Now, be persuaded. Do the
+right thing. Tell Athelstan what I have told you. The warrant for the
+arrest of the man Edmund Gray will be issued to-morrow, I suppose, or
+next day. After that, nothing can save you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing can save me,' George repeated. 'Is that all you came to say,
+Sir Samuel?'</p>
+
+<p>'That is all. A clean breast is all we ask.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then, Sir Samuel'&mdash;George rose and took a bundle of papers from the
+table&mdash;'let us find my Partner. You shall hear what I have to say.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah! that's right&mdash;that's sensible. I knew that you would be open to
+reason. Come. He is sure to be alone at this early hour. Come at once.'</p>
+
+<p>They went out together. The clerks noted their faces full of 'business,'
+as we poetically put it&mdash;matters of buying and selling being notoriously
+of the highest importance conceivable. Evidently something very serious
+indeed had passed. But the chief personage still held up his head.
+'Game, sir, game to the last. But there will be a bolt.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering was in his usual place, before the letters, which were still
+unopened. He looked ill, worn, and worried.</p>
+
+<p>'Brother,' said Sir Samuel, 'I bring you a young gentleman who has a
+communication to make of great importance.'</p>
+
+<p>'Is it about this case? Have you&mdash;at last found out something?' The
+tone, the words, suggested extreme irritability.</p>
+
+<p>'I fear not. You know, I believe, all that we have found out. But now,'
+said Sir Samuel, rubbing his hands&mdash;'now comes the long-expected&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>George interrupted&mdash;'What I have to say will not take long. I hear from
+Sir Samuel that he and Checkley between them have got up a case which
+involves me in these forgeries.'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite right,' said Sir Samuel. 'Involves you inextricably.'</p>
+
+<p>'And that things have gone so far that I am about to be arrested, tried,
+and convicted. Which he rightly thinks will be a great scandal. So it
+will&mdash;so it certainly will. He therefore proposes that I should make a
+clean breast of the whole business, and give back the stolen bonds. I am
+sorry that I cannot do this, for a very simple reason&mdash;namely, that
+there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> is nothing to confess. But there is one thing that I must do. You
+placed the case in my hands&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I did. I asked you to find out. I have brought no charge against you.
+Have you found out?'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering spoke like a schoolmaster in one of his least amiable moods.</p>
+
+<p>'It is a very improper thing for a person accused of a crime to be
+engaged in detecting it. So I resign the case&mdash;there are the papers. You
+had better go to some solicitor accustomed to this kind of work.'</p>
+
+<p>'Stuff and rubbish!' cried Mr. Dering.</p>
+
+<p>'Sir, you have deceived me.' Sir Samuel's face was gradually resuming
+its normal length. 'You promised to confess, and you have not. You as
+good as confessed just now.&mdash;This man is clearly, unmistakably guilty,'
+he added, turning to his brother.</p>
+
+<p>'I have not asked you, my Partner,' Mr. Dering added, more softly, 'to
+give up the case. I have heard what is said. I have observed that the
+so-called case is built up entirely on conjecture.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no,' said Sir Samuel. 'It is a sound structure, complete in every
+part.'</p>
+
+<p>'And there is nothing as yet to connect any man with the thing&mdash;not even
+the man Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite wrong&mdash;quite wrong,' said Sir Samuel. 'In the City, we may not be
+lawyers, but we understand evidence.'</p>
+
+<p>'I cannot choose but give up the case,' George replied. 'Consider.
+Already Mrs. Arundel has requested her daughter to break off her
+engagement; I am forbidden the house; Elsie has left her mother and gone
+to her brother. No, sir&mdash;take the papers, and give them to some other
+person.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering mechanically took the papers, and laid his hand upon them.</p>
+
+<p>'Let me remind you,' George continued, 'how far we have got. We have
+proved that Edmund Gray is a real person, known to many. We have not
+proved the connection between him and the robberies committed in his
+name. He is apparently a most respectable person. The problem before you
+is still to fix the crime on someone. I shall be glad to hear that it
+has been successfully solved.'</p>
+
+<p>'Glad?' asked Sir Samuel. 'You will be glad? This is amazing!'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Eight years ago, Mr. Dering, another man stood here, and was accused of
+a similar crime. He refused to stay in the house under such a charge.
+That was foolish. Time has established his innocence. I shall stay. I am
+your Partner. The Partnership can only be dissolved by mutual consent. I
+remain.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering laid his head upon his hand and sighed. 'I believe I shall be
+driven mad before long with this business,' he said querulously. He had
+lost something of his decision of speech. 'Well, I will give the case to
+somebody else. Meantime, look here. Tell me how these things came here.'</p>
+
+<p>The 'things' were two envelopes containing letters. They were addressed
+to Edmund Gray, and had been opened. One of them was George's own note
+inviting him to call. The other was the letter from the Manager of the
+Bank asking for other references.</p>
+
+<p>'How did they get here?' asked Mr. Dering again.</p>
+
+<p>'Had you not better ask Checkley?' George rang the bell.</p>
+
+<p>'I found these on the top of my letters, Checkley,' said Mr. Dering.
+'You were the first in the room. You put the letters on the table. I
+found them on the top of the heap. Nobody had been in the room except
+you and me. You must have put them there.'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley looked at the envelopes, and began to tremble. 'I don't know,'
+he said. 'I put the letters on the table. They were not among them.
+Somebody must have put them there'&mdash;he looked at the new Partner&mdash;'some
+friend of Mr. Edmund Gray, between the time that I left the room and the
+time when you came.'</p>
+
+<p>'I entered the room,' Mr. Dering replied, 'as you were leaving it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Observe,' said George, 'that in the whole conduct of this business
+there has been one man engaged who has control of the letters. That
+man&mdash;the only man in the office&mdash;is, I believe, the man before us&mdash;your
+clerk&mdash;Checkley.'</p>
+
+<p>'How came the letters here?' Mr. Dering repeated angrily.</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know,' answered Checkley. 'He'&mdash;indicating George&mdash;'must have
+put them there.'</p>
+
+<p>'The Devil is in the office, I believe. How do things come here? How do
+they vanish? Who put the notes in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> the safe? Who took the certificates
+out of the safe? All you can do is to stand and accuse each other. What
+good are you&mdash;any of you? Find out. Find out. Yesterday, there was a
+handbill about Edmund Gray in the safe. The day before there was a
+handful of Socialist tracts on the letters. Find out, I say.'</p>
+
+<p>'Give the things to detectives,' said George.</p>
+
+<p>'Let me take the case in hand, brother.' Sir Samuel laid hands on the
+papers. 'I flatter myself that I will very soon have the fellow under
+lock and key. And then, sir'&mdash;he turned to George&mdash;'scandal or no
+scandal, there shall be no pity&mdash;no mercy&mdash;none.'</p>
+
+<p>George laughed. 'Well, Sir Samuel, in a fortnight or so I shall call
+myself your brother-in-law. Till then, farewell.' He left the office and
+returned to his own room, the ripple of the laughter still upon his lips
+and in his eyes, so that the clerks marvelled, and the faith of those
+who believed in him was strengthened.</p>
+
+<p>'Before then, young crowing bantam,' cried Sir Samuel after him, 'I
+shall have you under lock and key.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah!' This was Checkley. The little interjection expressed, far more
+than any words could do, his satisfaction at the prospect. Then he left
+the room grumbling and muttering.</p>
+
+<p>'I believe that this business will finish me off.' Mr. Dering sighed
+again, and passed his hand over his forehead. 'Night and day it worries
+me. It makes my forgetfulness grow upon me. I am as good as gone. This
+hour I cannot remember the last hour. See&mdash;I had breakfast at home as
+usual. I remember that. I remember setting out. It is ten minutes walk
+from Bedford Row to here. I have taken an hour and a half. How? I do not
+know. What did I do last night? I do not know; and I am pursued by this
+forger&mdash;robber&mdash;demon. He puts things in my safe&mdash;yesterday, a placard
+that Edmund Gray was going to give a lecture on something or other&mdash;the
+day before, a bundle of tracts by Edmund Gray. What do these things
+mean? What can I do?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+<h3>HE COMES FROM EDMUND GRAY</h3>
+
+<p>'Nothing,' said Athelstan, 'could possibly happen more fortunately. We
+have turned whispering conspirators into declared enemies. Now you are
+free to investigate in your own way without having to report progress
+every day.'</p>
+
+<p>'About this new business about the letters and the things in the safe,'
+said Elsie. 'It looks to me like <i>diablerie</i>. Checkley couldn't do it.
+No conjuror in the world could do it. There must be somebody else in the
+office to do these things. They mean defiance. The forger says: "See&mdash;I
+do what I please with you. I return your letters addressed to Edmund
+Gray. I place placards about Edmund Gray in your safe&mdash;for which nobody
+has a key except yourself. Find me, if you can."'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; it is very mysterious.'</p>
+
+<p>'A Person on Two Sticks might manage it. Very likely, he is concerned in
+the business. Or a boy under the table would be able to do it. Perhaps
+there is a boy under the table. There must be. Mr. Dering's table is
+like the big bed of Ware. I daresay fifty boys might creep under that
+table and wait there for a chance. But perhaps there is only one&mdash;a
+comic boy.'</p>
+
+<p>'I should like to catch the joker,' said George. 'I would give him
+something still more humorous to laugh at.'</p>
+
+<p>'If there is no comic boy&mdash;and no Person on Two Sticks,' Elsie
+continued, 'we are thrown back upon Checkley. He seems to be the only
+man who receives the letters and goes in and out of the office all day.
+Well&mdash;I don't think it is Checkley. I don't think it can be&mdash; George,
+you once saw Mr. Dering in a very strange condition, unconscious,
+walking about with open eyes seeing nobody. Don't you think that he may
+have done this more than once?'</p>
+
+<p>'What do you mean, Elsie?'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't you think that some of these things&mdash;things put in the safe, for
+instance, may have been put there by Mr. Dering himself? You saw him
+open the safe. Afterwards<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> he knew nothing about it. Could he not do
+this more than once&mdash;might it be a habit?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;but if he puts the things in the safe&mdash;things that belonged to
+Edmund Gray, he must know Edmund Gray. For instance, how did he get my
+note to Edmund Gray, left by me on his table in Gray's Inn? That must
+have been given to him by Edmund Gray himself.'</p>
+
+<p>'Or by some friend of Edmund Gray. Yes; that is quite certain.'</p>
+
+<p>'Come,' said Athelstan. 'This infernal Edmund Gray is too much with us.
+Let us leave off talking about him for a while. Let him rest for this
+evening.&mdash;Elsie, put on your things. We will go and dine somewhere, and
+go to the play afterwards.'</p>
+
+<p>They did so. They had the quiet little restaurant dinner that girls have
+learned of late to love so much&mdash;the little dinner, where everything
+seems so much brighter and better served than one can get at home. After
+the dinner they went to a theatre, taking places in the Dress Circle,
+where, given good eyes, one sees quite as well as from the stalls at
+half the money. After the theatre they went home and there was an
+exhibition of tobacco and soda water. Those were very pleasant days in
+the Piccadilly lodgings, even allowing for the troubles which brought
+them about. Athelstan was the most delightful of brothers, and every
+evening brought its feast of laughter and of delightful talk. But all
+through the evening, all through the play, Elsie saw nothing but Mr.
+Dering and him engaged in daylight somnambulism. She saw him as George
+described him, opening the safe, closing it again, and afterwards wholly
+forgetful of what he had done.</p>
+
+<p>She thought about this all night. Now, when one has a gleam or glimmer
+of an idea, when one wants to disengage a single thought from the
+myriads which cross the brain, and to fix it and to make it clear, there
+is nothing in the world so good as to talk about it. The effort of
+finding words with which to drag it out makes it clearer. Every
+story-teller knows that the mere telling of a story turns his
+characters, who before were mere shadows, and shapeless shadows, into
+creatures of flesh and blood. Therefore, in the morning she began upon
+the thought which haunted her.</p>
+
+<p>'Athelstan,' she said, 'do you know anything about somnambulism?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'I knew a man once in California who shot a grizzly when he was
+sleep-walking. At least, he said so. That's the sum of my knowledge on
+the subject.'</p>
+
+<p>'I want to know if people often walk about in the daytime unconscious?'</p>
+
+<p>'They do. It is called wool-gathering.'</p>
+
+<p>'Seriously, Athelstan. Consider. George saw Mr. Dering arrive in a state
+of unconsciousness. He saw nobody in the room. He opened the safe and
+placed some papers there. Then he locked the safe. Then he sat down at
+the window. Presently he awoke, and became himself again. If he did that
+once, he might do it again.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well? And then?'</p>
+
+<p>'You heard yesterday about the letters, and the placard and the
+Socialist tracts. Now Checkley couldn't do that. He couldn't, and he
+wouldn't.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well?'</p>
+
+<p>'But Mr. Dering could. If he had that attack once, he might have it
+again and again. Why, he constantly complains of forgetting things.'</p>
+
+<p>'But the letters yesterday were addressed to Edmund Gray. How do you
+connect Edmund Gray with Edward Dering?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know. But, my dear brother, the more I think of this business,
+the more persuaded I am that Checkley is not the prime mover, or even a
+confederate.'</p>
+
+<p>'The same hand has doubtless been at work throughout. If not Checkley's
+aid to make that hand possible and successful, who is there? And look at
+the malignity with which he tries to fix it on some one else.'</p>
+
+<p>'That may be because he is afraid of its being fixed upon him. Consider
+that point about the control of the letters. The business could only be
+done by some one through whose hands passed all the letters.'</p>
+
+<p>'Checkley is the only person possible.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; he understands that. It makes him horribly afraid. He therefore
+lies with all his might in order to pass on suspicion to another person.
+You and George think him guilty&mdash;well, I do not. If I were trying to
+find out the man, I should try a different plan altogether.'</p>
+
+<p>Her brother had work to do which took him out directly after an early
+breakfast. When Elsie was left alone, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> began again to think about
+Mr. Dering's strange daylight somnambulism; about his continual fits of
+forgetfulness; about the odd things found on his table and in his safe,
+all connected with Edmund Gray. Checkley could not have placed those
+letters on the table: he could not have put those things in the safe.</p>
+
+<p>Elsie looked at the clock. It was only just after nine. She ran to her
+room, put on her jacket and hat, and called a cab.</p>
+
+<p>She arrived at half-past nine. Checkley was already in his master's
+room, laying out the table for the day's work as usual. The girl was
+touched at the sight of this old servant of sixty years' service doing
+these offices zealously and jealously. She stood in the outer office
+watching him through the open door. When he had finished, he came out
+and saw her.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' he grumbled. 'It's you, is it? Well&mdash;he hasn't come. If you want
+to see Mr. Dering, it's full early. If you want to see the new partner,
+he isn't come. He don't hurry himself. Perhaps you'll sit down a bit and
+look at the paper. Here's the <i>Times</i>. He'll be here at a quarter to
+ten.'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley sat down at his desk and took up a pen. But he laid it down
+again and began to talk. 'We're in trouble, Miss. No fault of yours&mdash; I
+don't say it is. We're in trouble. The trouble is going to be worse
+before it's better. They're not content with robbing the master, but
+they mock at him and jeer him. They jeer him. They put on his table
+letters addressed to the man they call Edmund Gray. They open his safe
+and put things in it belonging to Edmund Gray. We're not so young as we
+was, and it tells upon us. We're not so regular as we should be.
+Sometimes we're late&mdash;and sometimes we seem, just for a bit, not to know
+exactly who we are nor what we are. Oh! it's nothing&mdash;nothing, but what
+will pass away when the trouble's over. But think of the black
+ingratitood, Miss&mdash;Oh! black&mdash;black. I'm not blamin' you; but I think
+you ought to know the trouble we're in&mdash;considering who's done it and
+all.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie made no reply. She had nothing to say. Certainly she could not
+enter into a discussion with this man as to the part, if any, taken in
+the business by the new partner. Then Checkley made a show of beginning
+to write with zeal. The morning was hot: the place was quiet: the old
+man's hand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> gradually slackened: the pen stopped: the eyes closed: his
+head dropped back upon his chair: he was asleep. It is not uncommon for
+an old man to drop off in this way.</p>
+
+<p>Elsie sat perfectly still. At eleven o'clock she heard a step upon the
+stairs. It mounted: it stopped: the private door was opened, and Mr.
+Dering entered. He stood for a moment in the doorway, looking about the
+room. Now, as the girl looked at him, she perceived that he was again in
+the condition described by George&mdash;as a matter of fact, it was in this
+condition that Mr. Dering generally arrived in the morning. His coat was
+unbuttoned: his face wore the genial and benevolent look which we do not
+generally associate with lawyers of fifty years' standing: the eyes were
+Mr. Dering's eyes, but they were changed&mdash;not in colour or in form, but
+in expression. Elsie was reminded of her portrait. That imaginary sketch
+was no other than the Mr. Dering who now stood before her.</p>
+
+<p>He closed the door behind him and walked across the room to the window.</p>
+
+<p>Then Elsie, lightly, so as not to awaken the drowsy old clerk, stepped
+into Mr. Dering's office and shut the door softly behind her.</p>
+
+<p>The sleep-walker stood at the window, looking out. Elsie crept up and
+stood beside him. Then she touched him on the arm. He started and
+turned. 'Young lady,' he said, 'what can I do for you?' He showed no
+sign of recognition at all in his eyes: he did not know her. 'Can I do
+anything for you?' he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>'I am afraid&mdash;nothing,' she replied.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her doubtfully. Then apparently remembering some duty as
+yet unfulfilled, he left the window and unlocked the safe. He then drew
+out of his pocket a manuscript tied up with red tape. Elsie looked into
+the safe and read the title&mdash;'<i>The New Humanity</i>, by Edmund Gray,' which
+was written in large letters on the outer page. Then he shut and locked
+the safe and dropped the key in his own pocket. This done, he returned
+to the window and sat down, taking no manner of notice of his visitor.
+All this exactly as he had done before in presence of George and his old
+clerk.</p>
+
+<p>For ten minutes he sat there. Then he shivered, straightened himself,
+stood up, and looked about the room, Mr. Dering again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Elsie!' he cried. 'I did not know you were here. How long have you been
+here?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not very long. A few minutes, perhaps.'</p>
+
+<p>'I must have fallen asleep. It is a hot morning. You must forgive the
+weakness of an old man, child. I had a bad night too. I was awake a long
+time, thinking of all these troubles and worries. They can't find out,
+Elsie, who has robbed me.' He spoke querulously and helplessly. 'They
+accuse each other, instead of laying their heads together. Nonsense!
+Checkley couldn't do it. George couldn't do it. The thing was done by
+somebody else. My brother came here with a cock-and-bull case, all built
+up of presumptions and conclusions. If they would only find out!'</p>
+
+<p>'The trouble is mine as much as yours, Mr. Dering. I have had to leave
+my mother's house, where I had to listen to agreeable prophecies about
+my lover and my brother. I wish, with you, that they would find out!'</p>
+
+<p>He took off his hat and hung it on its peg. He buttoned his frock-coat
+and took his place at the table, upright and precise. Yet his eyes were
+anxious.</p>
+
+<p>'They tease me too. They mock me. Yesterday, they laid two letters
+addressed to this man, Edmund Gray, on my letters. What for? To laugh at
+me, to defy me to find them out. Checkley swears he didn't put them
+there. I arrived at the moment when he was leaving the room. Are we
+haunted? And the day before&mdash;and the day before that&mdash;there were things
+put in the safe&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'In the safe? Oh! but nobody has the key except yourself. How can
+anything be put in the safe?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know. I don't know anything. I don't know what may be taken
+next. My houses&mdash;my mortgages, my lands, my very practice&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Nay,&mdash;they could not. Is there anything this morning?'</p>
+
+<p>He turned over his letters. 'Apparently not. Stay; I have not looked in
+the safe. He got up and threw open the safe. Then he took up a packet.
+'Again!' he cried almost with a scream. 'Again! See this!' He tossed on
+the table the packet which he had himself, only ten minutes before,
+placed in the safe with his own hands. 'See this! Thus they laugh at
+me&mdash;thus they torment me!' He hurled the packet to the other side of the
+room, returned to his chair, and laid his head upon his hands, sighing
+deeply.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Elsie took up the parcel. It was rather a bulky manuscript. The title
+you have heard. She untied the tape and turned over the pages. The work,
+she saw, was the Autobiography of Edmund Gray. <i>And it was in the
+handwriting of Mr. Dering!</i></p>
+
+<p>She replaced it in the safe. 'Put everything there,' she said, 'which is
+sent to you. Everything. Do you know anything at all about this man
+Edmund Gray?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing, my dear child, absolutely nothing. I never saw the man. I
+never heard of him. Yet he has planted himself upon me. He holds his
+Chambers on a letter of recommendation from me. I was his introducer to
+the manager of the Bank&mdash;I&mdash;in my own handwriting&mdash;as they thought. He
+drew a cheque of 720<i>l</i>. upon me eight years ago. And he has transferred
+thirty-eight thousand pounds' worth of shares and stock to his own
+address.'</p>
+
+<p>'Added to which, he has been the cause of suspicion and vile accusation
+against my lover and my brother, which it will cost a great deal of
+patience to forgive. Dear Mr. Dering, I am so sorry for you. It is most
+wonderful and most mysterious. Suppose,' she laid her hand upon
+his&mdash;'suppose that I was to find out for you&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'You, child? What can you do, when the others have failed?'</p>
+
+<p>'I can but try.'</p>
+
+<p>'Try, in Heaven's name. Try, my dear. If you find out, you shall be
+burned for a witch.'</p>
+
+<p>'No. If I find out, you shall be present at my wedding. You were to have
+given me away. But now&mdash;now&mdash;Athelstan shall give me away, and you will
+be there to see. And it will be a tearful wedding'&mdash;the tears came into
+her own eyes just to illustrate the remark&mdash;'because everyone will be so
+ashamed of the wicked things they have said. Sir Samuel will remain on
+his knees the whole service, and Checkley will be fain to get under the
+seat.&mdash;Good-bye, Mr. Dering. I am a Prophetess. I can foretell. You
+shall hear in a very few days all about Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>She ran away without any further explanation. Mr. Dering shook his head
+and smiled. He did not believe in contemporary Prophecy. That young
+people should place their own affairs&mdash;their love-makings and
+weddings&mdash;before the affairs of their elders, was not surprising. For
+himself, as he sometimes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> remembered&mdash;and always when this girl, with
+her pretty ways and soft voice, was with him&mdash;her visit had cheered him.
+He opened his letters and went on with the day's work.</p>
+
+<p>As for Elsie, the smile in her eyes died out as she descended the
+stairs. If she had been herself a lawyer, she could not have worn a
+graver face as she walked across the courts of the venerable Inn.</p>
+
+<p>She had established the connection between Mr. Dering and Edmund Gray.
+It was he, and nobody else, who laid those letters on the table&mdash;placed
+those things in the safe. This being so, it must be he himself, and
+nobody else, who wrote all the letters, signed the cheques, and did all
+the mischief. He himself! But how? Elsie had read of hypnotism.
+Wonderful things are done daily by mesmerists and magnetisms under their
+new name. Mr. Dering was hypnotised by this man Edmund Gray&mdash;as he
+called himself&mdash;for his own base ends. Well&mdash;she would find out this
+Edmund Gray. She would beard this villain in his own den.</p>
+
+<p>She walked resolutely to Gray's Inn. She found No. 22&mdash;she mounted the
+stairs. The outer door was closed. She knocked, but there was no answer.
+She remembered how George had found his laundress, and visited her at
+her lodgings&mdash;she thought she would do the same. But on the stairs she
+went down she met an old woman so dirty, so ancient, so feeble, that she
+seemed to correspond with George's account of her.</p>
+
+<p>'You are Mr. Gray's laundress?' she asked.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, Miss; I am.' The woman looked astonished to see such a visitor.</p>
+
+<p>'I want to see him. I want to see him on very important business. Most
+important to himself. When can I see him?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know, Miss. He is uncertain. He was here yesterday evening. He
+said he should not be here this evening. But I don't know.'</p>
+
+<p>'Look here.' Elsie drew out her purse. 'Tell me when you think he will
+be here, and if I find him I will give you two pounds&mdash;two golden
+sovereigns. If you tell me right I will give you two sovereigns.'</p>
+
+<p>She showed them. The old woman looked hungrily at the coins. 'Well,
+Miss, he's been here every Saturday afternoon for the last six months. I
+know it by the litter of papers that he makes. Every Saturday
+afternoon.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Very good. You shall have your money if I find him.'</p>
+
+<p>In the evening, Elsie said nothing about Mr. Dering and her strange
+discovery. The two young men talked about trying this way and that way,
+always with the view of implicating Checkley. But she said nothing.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+<h3>I AM EDMUND GRAY</h3>
+
+<p>On Saturday afternoon, the policeman on day-duty at Gray's Inn was
+standing near the southern portals of that venerable Foundation in
+conversation with the boy who dispenses the newspapers, from a warehouse
+constructed in the eastern wall of the archway. It was half-past three
+by the clock and a fine day, which was remarkable for the
+season&mdash;August&mdash;and the year. The sun poured upon the dingy old courts,
+making them dingier instead of brighter. Where the paint of the windows
+and door-posts is faded and dirty&mdash;where the panes are mostly in want of
+cleaning&mdash;where there are no flowers in the windows&mdash;where there are no
+trees or leaves in the Square&mdash;where the bricks want painting, and where
+the soot has gathered in every chink and blackens every cranny&mdash;then the
+sunshine of summer only makes a dingy court shabbier. Gray's Inn in July
+and August, unless these months are as the August of the year of grace
+1891, looks old, but not venerable. Age should be clean and nicely
+dressed: age should wear a front to conceal her baldness: age should
+assume false teeth to disguise those gums stripped of their ivory. It
+was felt by the policeman. 'We want a washin' and a brightenin' in this
+old place,' he remarked to the journalist. We want somethin' younger
+than them old laundresses,' said the newspaper boy. Great is the Goddess
+Coincidence. Even while he uttered this aspiration, a young lady entered
+the gate and passed into the Inn.</p>
+
+<p>'Ha!' breathed the policeman, softly.</p>
+
+<p>'Ah!' sighed the journalist.</p>
+
+<p>She was a young lady of adorable face and form, surpassing the wildest
+dreams either of policeman or of paper-man&mdash;both of whom possessed the
+true poetic temperament. She was clothed in raiment mystic, wonderful,
+such as seldom indeed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> gets as far east as Gray's Inn, something in gray
+or silver gray with an open front and a kind of jacket. She passed them
+rapidly, and walked through the passage into the Square.</p>
+
+<p>'No. 22,' said the policeman. 'Now, who does she want at No. 22? Who's
+on the ground-floor of 22?'</p>
+
+<p>'Right hand&mdash;Architects and Surveyors. Left hand&mdash;Universal
+Translators.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps she's a Universal Translator. They must be all gone by this
+time. The first floor is lawyers. They're all gone too. I saw the clerks
+march out at two o'clock. Second floor&mdash;there's Mr. Carstone on the
+left, and Mr. Edmund Gray on the right. Perhaps it's Mr. Carstone she's
+after. I hope it isn't him. He's a gentleman with fine manners, and they
+do say a great scholar, but he's a Lushington, and a sweet young thing
+like that ought not to marry a man who is brought home every other night
+too tipsy to stand. Or there's Mr. Gray&mdash;the old gent&mdash;perhaps she's his
+daughter. What's Mr. Edmund Gray by calling, Joe?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nobody knows. He don't often come. An old gentleman&mdash;been in the Inn a
+long time&mdash;for years. Lives in the country, I suppose, and does no work.
+Lives on other people's work&mdash;my work&mdash;honest working men's work,' said
+the boy, who was a Socialist and advanced.</p>
+
+<p>'Ah! There's something up about Mr. Gray. People are coming to inquire
+for him. First, it was a young gentleman: very affable he was&mdash;and free
+with his money&mdash;most likely other people's money. He wanted to know a
+good deal about Mr. Gray&mdash;more than I could tell him&mdash;wanted to know how
+often he came, and what he was like when he did come&mdash;and would I tell
+him all I knew. He went to the old laundress afterwards.&mdash;Then it was a
+little old man&mdash;I know him by sight&mdash;uses the <i>Salutation</i> Parlour of an
+evening&mdash;he wanted to know all about Mr. Gray too. No half-crown in that
+quarter, though. He's been spying and watching for him&mdash;goes and hides
+up the passage on the other side of the Square. Kind of a spider he is.
+He's watching him for no good, I'll bet. Perhaps the young lady wants to
+find out about him too.&mdash;Joe, there's something up at No. 22. The old
+gentleman isn't in his chambers, I believe. She'll come out again
+presently, and it'll be: "Oh, Mr. Policeman, could you very kindly tell
+me how I can find Mr. Edmund<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> Gray?" With a shilling perhaps, and
+perhaps not. I wonder what she wants with Mr. Edmund Gray? Sometimes
+these old chaps break out in the most surprising manner. Joe, if you
+ever go into the Service, you'll find the work hard and the pay small.
+But there's compensation in learnin' things. If you want to know human
+nature, go into the Force.'</p>
+
+<p>'There's old Mr. Langhorne, up at the top.'</p>
+
+<p>'So there is. But no young lady wants to see that poor old chap. He's
+got no friends, young nor old&mdash;no friends and no money. Just now, he's
+terrible hard up. Took a shillin' off o' me last Sunday to get a bit of
+dinner with. Fine thing&mdash;isn't it, Joe?&mdash;to be a gentleman and a
+barrister all your life, isn't it&mdash;and to end like that? Starvation in a
+garret&mdash;eh?&mdash; Look out. She will be coming down directly.'</p>
+
+<p>But she did not come down. Two hours and more passed, and she did not
+come down.</p>
+
+<p>The visitor was Elsie Arundel. She walked up the stairs to the second
+floor. Here she stopped. There was a black door, closed, on the right of
+her, and another black door, closed, on the left of her. On the lintel
+of one was the name of Mr. F. W. Carstone. On the lintel of the other
+was that of Mr. Edmund Gray. Elsie knocked with her parasol at the
+latter door. There was no reply. 'The old laundress,' she murmured,
+'told me that Saturday afternoon was my best chance of finding him. I
+will wait.' She sat down with hesitation on the stairs leading to the
+third floor&mdash;they were not too clean&mdash;and waited.</p>
+
+<p>She was going to do a very plucky thing&mdash;a dangerous thing. She had made
+a discovery connecting Mr. Dering directly with this Edmund Gray. She
+had learned that he came to the office in a strange condition, perhaps
+hypnotic, bringing things from Edmund Gray. She now suspected that the
+only person who carried on the forgeries on Mr. Dering was Mr. Dering
+himself, acted on and perhaps mesmerised by Edmund Gray&mdash;and she wanted
+to find out who this Edmund Gray was. She would confront him and tax him
+with the crime. It was dangerous, but he could not kill her. Besides, he
+was described as quite an elderly man. He was also described as a
+benevolent man, a charitable man, a kindly man: and he wrote letters
+brimful of the most cheerful optimism. Yet he was carrying on a series
+of complicated forgeries. She resolved to wait for him. She would wait
+till sundown, if necessary, for him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The place was very quiet. All the offices were closed and the clerks
+gone. Most of the men who lived in the chambers were away, out of town,
+gone on holiday, gone away from Saturday till Monday. Everything was
+quite quiet and still: the traffic in Holborn was only heard as a
+continuous murmur which formed part of the stillness: the policeman, who
+had now said all he had to say to the newspaper boy, was walking slowly
+and with heavy tread round the Court. The Inn was quite empty and
+deserted and still. Only, overhead there was the footfall of a man who
+walked up and down his room steadily, never stopping or ceasing or
+changing the time, like the beat of a pendulum. Elsie began to wonder,
+presently, who this man could be, and if he had nothing better to do
+than to pace his chamber all day long, when the sun was bright and the
+leaves on the trees and the flowers in full bloom.</p>
+
+<p>The clock struck four: Elsie had been waiting half an hour: still Mr.
+Edmund Gray did not arrive: still the steady beat of the footstep
+continued overhead.</p>
+
+<p>The clock struck five. Still that steady footfall. Still Elsie sat upon
+the stairs waiting in patience.</p>
+
+<p>When the clock struck six, the footsteps stopped&mdash;or changed. Then a
+door overhead opened and shut and the steps came down the stairs. Elsie
+rose and stood on one side. An old man came down&mdash;tall and thin,
+close-shaven, pale, dressed in a black frock-coat, worn to a shiny
+polish in all those parts which take a polish&mdash;a shabby old man whose
+hat seemed hardly able to stand upright: and a gentleman&mdash;which was
+perfectly clear from his bearing&mdash;a gentleman in the last stage of
+poverty and decay.</p>
+
+<p>He started, surprised to see a young lady on the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>'You are waiting for Mr. Carstone?' he asked. 'He is out of town. He
+will not be back till Monday. Nobody ever comes back before Monday. From
+Saturday to Monday I have the Inn to myself. All that time there are no
+slammers and no strangers. It is an agreeable retreat, if only&mdash;&mdash;' He
+shook his head and stopped short.</p>
+
+<p>'I am not waiting for Mr. Carstone. I am waiting for Mr. Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>'He is very uncertain. No one knows when he comes or whither he goeth. I
+would not wait if I were you. He may come to-day, or to-morrow, or at
+any time. He comes on Sunday morning, often. I hear him coming up-stairs
+after the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> chapel bell stops. He is a quiet neighbour&mdash;no slammer or
+tramper. I would not wait, I say, if I were you.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will wait a little longer. I am very anxious to see Mr. Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>'He should wait for you,' Mr. Langhorne replied, politely. 'The stairs
+are not a fit resting-place for you. This old Inn is too quiet for such
+as you. Mirth and joy belong to you&mdash; Silence and rest to such as me.
+Even slamming does not, I daresay, greatly displease youth and beauty.
+Chambers are not for young ladies. Beauty looks for life and love and
+admiration. They do not exist here. Run away, young lady&mdash;leave the Inn
+to the poor old men, like me, who cannot get away if they would.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you.&mdash;I must see Mr. Edmund Gray, if I can. It will not hurt me
+to wait a little longer.'</p>
+
+<p>'You wish to see Edmund Gray. So do I. So do I. You are a friend of his.
+Perhaps, therefore, you will do as well. Those who are his friends are
+like unto him for kindness of heart. Those who wish to be his friends
+must try to be like unto him. Young lady, I will treat you as the friend
+of that good man. You can act for him.'</p>
+
+<p>'What can I do if I do act for him?' But there was a hungry eagerness in
+the man's eyes which made her divine what she could do.</p>
+
+<p>'It is Saturday.' He replied without looking at her. He turned away his
+head. He spoke to the stair-window. 'To-morrow is Sunday. I have before
+this, on one or two occasions, found myself as I do now&mdash;without money.
+I have borrowed of Mr. Carstone and of Mr. Edmund Gray. Sometimes, I
+have paid it back&mdash;not always. Lend me&mdash;for Mr. Edmund Gray&mdash;if you are
+not rich, he will give it back to you&mdash;the sum of five shillings&mdash;say,
+five shillings. Otherwise, I shall have nothing to eat until Monday,
+when Mr. Carstone returns.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing to eat? Nothing at all to eat?' Beggars in the street often
+make the same confession, but somehow their words fail to carry
+conviction. Mr. Langhorne, however, did carry conviction.</p>
+
+<p>The old man shook his head. 'I had some food yesterday at this time.
+Since then I have had nothing. There was neither tea nor bread in my
+rooms for breakfast. When the clock struck six, my dinner hour, I
+thought I would walk along<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> the street and look at the things to eat
+which are placed in the shop windows. That relieves a little. But
+to-morrow will be a bad time&mdash;a very bad time. I shall lie in bed. Oh! I
+have gone through it before. Sometimes'&mdash;he dropped his voice&mdash;'I have
+been sore tempted to take something&mdash;&mdash; No&mdash;no; don't think I have given
+way. No&mdash;no. Why&mdash;I should be&mdash;disbarred. Not yet&mdash;not yet.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie opened her purse. It contained two sovereigns and a shilling or
+two. 'Take all,' she said eagerly. 'Take all the gold, and leave me the
+silver. Take it instantly.' She stamped her foot.</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated. 'All?' he asked. 'All? Can you spare it? I can never
+repay&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Take it!' she said again, imperiously.</p>
+
+<p>He obeyed: he took the gold out of the purse with trembling fingers.
+Then he raised his rickety old hat&mdash;was that a tear that stole into his
+eyes, or the rheum of old age?&mdash;and slowly walked down the stairs,
+holding by the banisters. He was weak, poor wretch! with hunger. But it
+was his dinner hour, and he was going to have his dinner.</p>
+
+<p>Elsie sat down again.</p>
+
+<p>It was half-past six&mdash;she had been waiting for three hours&mdash;when other
+footsteps entered the house. Elsie sprang to her feet: she turned pale:
+her heart stood still; for now she realised that if this step was truly
+that of the man she expected, she was about to confront a person
+certainly of the deepest criminality, and possibly capable of villainy
+in any other direction. The steps mounted the stairs. I really think
+that the bravest persons in the world are those who before the event
+look forward to it with the utmost apprehension. They know, you see,
+what the dangers are. Elsie was going to face a great danger. She was
+going to find out, alone and unaided, who this man was, and why and how
+he worked these deeds of darkness.</p>
+
+<p>The footsteps mounted higher: from the door to the top of the stairs it
+took but a single minute, yet to Elsie it seemed half an hour, so rapid
+were her thoughts. Then the man mounted the last flight of steps.
+Heavens! Elsie was fain to cry out for sheer amazement. She cried out:
+she caught at the banisters. For, before her, taking the key of Mr.
+Edmund Gray's Chambers from his waistcoat pocket, was none other than
+Mr. Dering himself!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Yes. An elderly man, of truly benevolent aspect, his coat open flying
+all abroad, his face soft, gracious, smiling, and full of sunshine, his
+hat just the least bit pushed back, his left hand in his pocket. Elsie
+thought again of her portrait at home, in which she had transformed her
+guardian&mdash;and here he was in the flesh&mdash;transformed according to her
+portrait.</p>
+
+<p>She stared at him with an amazement that bereft her of speech and of
+motion. She could only stare. Even if her mother's voice were suddenly
+to call out to her that it is rude for little girls to stare, she could
+not choose but stare. For Mr. Dering looked at her with that kind of
+surprise in his eyes which means, 'What have we here to do with
+beautiful young ladies?' There was not the least sign of any knowledge
+of her. He looked at her as one suffers the eyes to rest for a moment
+without interest upon a stranger and a casual passenger in the street.</p>
+
+<p>He opened his outer door, and was about to walk in, when she recovered
+some presence of mind&mdash;not much. She stepped forward. 'Can you tell me,
+please, how I could find Mr. Edmund Gray?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly,' he smiled&mdash;'nothing easier. 'I am Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>'You!&mdash;you&mdash;Edmund Gray? Oh! No&mdash;no. You cannot be Edmund Gray&mdash;you
+yourself!' All her beautiful theory of hypnotic influence vanished. No
+mesmerism or magnetic influence at all. 'You yourself?' she repeated,
+'you&mdash;Edmund Gray?'</p>
+
+<p>'Assuredly. Why not? Why should a man not be himself?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! I don't understand. The world is going upside down. I took
+you&mdash;took you for another person.'</p>
+
+<p>He laughed gently. 'Truly, I am none other than Edmund Gray&mdash;always
+Edmund Gray. My first name I can never change if I wished, because it is
+my baptismal name. The latter I do not wish to change, because it is my
+name ancestral.'</p>
+
+<p>'I asked because&mdash;because&mdash;I fancied a resemblance to another person.
+Were you ever told that you are much like a certain other person?'</p>
+
+<p>'No; I think not. Resemblances, however, are extremely superficial. No
+two living creatures are alike. We are alone,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> each living out his life
+in the great Cosmos, quite alone&mdash;unlike any other living creature.
+However, I am Edmund Gray, young lady. It isn't often that I receive a
+visit from a young lady in these Chambers. If you have no other doubt
+upon that point, will you let me ask you, once more, how I can help you?
+And will you come in and sit down?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! it is wonderful,' she cried&mdash;'wonderful! most wonderful!' Again she
+controlled herself. 'Are you,' she asked again, 'the same Mr. Edmund
+Gray who wrote the letter to the <i>Times</i> the other day?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. There is no other person, I believe, of the name in this
+Inn. Have you read that letter?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;oh, yes.'</p>
+
+<p>'And you have come here to talk to me about that letter?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;yes.' She caught at the hint. 'That is why I came&mdash;to talk about
+that letter. I came in the hope of finding the author of that letter at
+home.'</p>
+
+<p>He threw open the door of his sitting-room.</p>
+
+<p>'Will you step in? We can talk quite quietly here. The Inn at this
+hour on Saturday is almost deserted.' He closed the outer door and
+followed his visitor into the sitting-room. 'This,' he went on, 'is
+the quietest place in the whole of London. We have not, in this
+Square, the stately elms of the old garden, but still we have our little
+advantages&mdash;spacious rooms&mdash;quiet always in the evening and on Sundays.
+A few rackety young men, perhaps; but for one who reads and meditates,
+no better place in London.&mdash;Now, young lady, take the easy-chair and sit
+down. We will talk. There are very few people who talk to me about my
+theories. That is because I am old, so that I have lost my friends, and
+because my views are in advance of the world. No man is so lonely as the
+man born before his time. He is the prophet, you know, who must be
+stoned because he prophesies things unintelligible and therefore
+uncomfortable&mdash;even terrifying. I shall be very glad to talk a little
+with you.&mdash;Now, allow me first to open these letters.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie sat down and looked about her. She was in a large low wainscoted
+room, with two windows looking upon the Square. The room was quite
+plainly but quite well furnished. There was a good-sized study table
+with drawers: a small table between the windows: a few chairs, a couch
+and an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> easy-chair; and a large bookcase filled with books&mdash;books on
+Socialism, George had told her. A door opened upon a smaller room: there
+was probably a bedroom at the back. A plain carpet covered the floor.
+Above the high old-fashioned mantel were two or three portraits of
+Socialist leaders. The room, if everything had not been covered with
+dust, would have been coldly neat: the chairs were all in their places:
+the window-blinds were half-way down as the laundress thought was
+proper&mdash;millions of Londoners always keep their blinds half-way down&mdash;a
+subject which must some day be investigated by the Folklore Society: the
+curtains were neatly looped: it wanted only a Bible on a table at a
+window to make it the Front Parlour of a Dalston Villa. There were no
+flowers, no ornaments of any kind.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Edmund Gray opened half-a-dozen letters lying on his table and
+glanced at them. There were a great many more waiting to be opened.</p>
+
+<p>'All are from people who have read my letter,' he said. 'They share with
+me in the new Faith of a new Humanity. Happy is the man who strikes the
+note of leading at the right moment. Happy he who lights the lamp just
+when the darkness is beginning to be felt.&mdash;Yes, young lady, you are not
+the only one who has been drawn towards the doctrines of that letter.
+But I have no time to write to all of them. A letter makes one
+convert&mdash;a paragraph may make a thousand.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie rose from her chair. She had decided on her line. You have heard
+that her voice was curiously soft and winning&mdash;a voice that charms&mdash;a
+voice which would soothe a wild creature, and fill a young man's heart
+with whatever passion she chose to awaken. She had, besides, those soft
+eyes which make men surrender their secrets, part with their power and
+their strength. Did she know that she possessed all this power?&mdash;the
+girl who had no experience save of one man's love, and that the most
+natural, easy, and unromantic love in the world, when two who are
+brought up side by side and see each other every day, presently catch
+each other by the hand and walk for the future hand in hand without a
+word. Yet Delilah herself, the experienced, the crafty, the trained and
+taught&mdash;could not&mdash;did not&mdash;act more cleverly and craftily than this
+artless damsel. To be sure, she possessed great advantages over
+Delilah&mdash;by some esteemed attractive&mdash;in the matter of personal charm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' she murmured softly, 'it is a shame that you should be expected to
+waste your valuable time in writing letters to these people. You must
+not do it. Your time is wanted for the world, not for individuals.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is,' he replied&mdash;'it is. You have said it.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are a Master&mdash;a Leader&mdash;a Prince in Israel&mdash;a Preacher&mdash;a Prophet.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am&mdash;I am. You have said it. I should not myself have dared to say it.
+But I am.'</p>
+
+<p>'No one can doubt it who has read that letter. Be my Master&mdash;too&mdash;as
+well as the Master of&mdash;of all these people who write to you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Be your Master?' He blushed like a boy. 'Could I desire anything
+better?'</p>
+
+<p>'My Father and my Master,' she added with a little change of colour.
+Girls take fright very easily, and perhaps this old gentleman might
+interpret the invitation&mdash;well&mdash;into something other than was meant.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;yes.' He held out his hand. She took it in her own&mdash;both her own
+soft hands, and bowed her head&mdash;her comely head&mdash;over it.</p>
+
+<p>'I came to-day thinking only'&mdash;Oh, Delilah!&mdash;'to thank you for your
+great and generous and noble words, which have put fresh heart into me.
+And now that I have thanked you, I am emboldened to ask a favour&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Anything, anything.'</p>
+
+<p>'You will be my Master&mdash;you will teach me. Let me, in return, relieve
+you of this work.' She laid her hand on the pile of letters. 'Let me
+answer them for you. Let me be your Private Secretary. I have nothing to
+do. Let me work for you.' She looked into his face with the sweetest
+eyes and the most winning smile, and her voice warmed the old man's ear
+like soft music. Ah, Circe!&mdash;'Now that I have seen you&mdash;let me be your
+disciple, your most humble disciple, and'&mdash;Ah, Siren!&mdash;'let me be more,
+Edmund Gray&mdash;I cannot say Mr. Gray&mdash;let me be more, Edmund Gray.' She
+laid her hand, her soft-gloved, dainty, delicate hand, upon his, and it
+produced the effect of an electric battery gently handled. 'Let me be
+your Secretary.'</p>
+
+<p>It was ten o'clock before Elsie reached home that evening, and she
+refused to tell them, even her own brother and her lover, where she had
+been or how she had spent her evening.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+
+<h3>MASTER AND DISCIPLE</h3>
+
+<p>It was Sunday afternoon in Gray's Inn. The new Disciple sat at the feet
+of the Master, her Gamaliel: one does not know exactly the attitude
+adopted by a young Rabbi of old, but in this case the disciple sat in a
+low chair, her hands folded in her lap, curiously and earnestly watching
+the Master as he walked up and down the room preaching and teaching.</p>
+
+<p>'Master,' she asked, 'have you always preached and held these
+doctrines?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not always. There was a time when I dwelt in darkness&mdash;like the rest of
+the world.'</p>
+
+<p>'How did you learn these things? By reading books?'</p>
+
+<p>'No. I discovered them. I worked them out for myself by logic, by
+reason, and by observation. Everything good and true must be discovered
+by a man for himself.'</p>
+
+<p>'What did you believe in that old time? Was it, with the rest of the
+world, the sacredness of Property?'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps.' He stood in front of her, laying his right forefinger in his
+left forefinger and inclining his head. 'My dear young scholar, one who
+believes as I believe, not with half a heart, but wholly, and without
+reserve, willingly forgets the time when he was as yet groping blindly
+in darkness or walking in artificial light. He wishes to forget that
+time. There is no profit in remembering that time. I have so far drilled
+and trained myself not to remember that time, that I have in fact clean
+forgotten it. I do not remember what I thought or what I said, or with
+whom I associated in that time. It is a most blessed forgetfulness. I
+daresay I could recover the memory of it if I wished, but the effort
+would be painful. Spare me. The recovery of that Part would be
+humiliating. Spare me, scholar. Yet, if you wish&mdash;if you command&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, no, no! Forgive me.' Elsie touched his hand. He took hers and held
+it. Was it with a little joy or a little fear that the girl observed the
+power she already had over him? 'I would not cause you pain.
+Besides&mdash;what does it matter?'</p>
+
+<p>'You know, my child, when the monk assumes the tonsure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> and the triple
+cord, he leaves behind him, outside the cell, all the things of the
+world&mdash;ambition, love, luxury, the pride of the eye&mdash;all&mdash;all. He
+forgets everything. He casts away everything. He abandons
+everything&mdash;for meditation and prayer. The monk,' added the Sage, 'is a
+foolish person, because his meditation advances not the world a whit. I
+am like the monk, save that I think for the world instead of myself. And
+so, spending days and nights in meditation, I know not what went
+before&mdash;nor do I care. It is a second birth when the new faith takes you
+and holds you together, so that you care for nothing else. Oh,
+child!&mdash;upon you also this shall come&mdash;this obsession&mdash;this
+possession&mdash;so that your spirit shall know of no time but that spent in
+the service of the Cause. Nay, I go so far that I forget from day to day
+what passed, except when I was actively engaged for the Cause. Yesterday
+I was here in the afternoon. You came. We talked. You offered yourself
+as my disciple. I remember every word you said. Could I ever forget a
+disciple so trustful and so humble? But&mdash;before you came. Where was I?
+Doubtless here&mdash;meditating. But I know not. Then there are things which
+one must do to live&mdash;breakfast, dinner&mdash;of these I remember nothing. Why
+should I? It is a great gift and reward to me that I should not remember
+unnecessary things&mdash;low and common things. Why should I try to do so?</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no,' murmured the catechumen, carried away by his earnestness.
+'Best forget them. Best live altogether in and for the Cause.' Yet&mdash;she
+wondered&mdash;how was she to bring things home to him unless he could be
+made to remember? He was mad one hour and sane the next. How should she
+bridge the gulf and make the mad man cross over to <i>the other side</i>?</p>
+
+<p>The Master took her hand in his and held it paternally. 'We needed such
+a disciple as you,' he went on, slightly bending his head over her.
+'Among my followers there is earnestness without understanding. They
+believe in the good time, but they are impatient. They want revolution,
+which is terrific and destroys. I want conviction. There are times when
+a great idea flies abroad like the flame through the stubble. But men's
+minds must first be so prepared that they are ready for it. The world is
+not yet ready for my idea, and I am old, and may die too soon to see the
+sudden rise of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> the mighty flood, when that doctrine shall suddenly
+cease in all mankind. We need disciples. Above all, we need women. Why
+do women, I wonder, throw themselves away in imitating man, when there
+are a thousand things that they can do better than any man? I want
+women&mdash;young, beautiful, faithful. I can find work for hundreds of
+women. Hypatia would be worth to me&mdash;to us&mdash;far more than he of the
+Golden Mouth. Child&mdash;your sweet voice, your sweet face, your sweet
+eyes&mdash;I want them. I will take them and use them&mdash;expend them&mdash;for the
+great Cause. It may be that you will be called upon to become the first
+martyr of the Cause. Hypatia was murdered by a raging mob. You will have
+against you a mob worse than any of Alexandria. You will have a mob
+composed of all those who are rich, and all who want to be rich, and all
+the servile crews at their command. Happy girl! You will be torn to
+pieces for the cause of humanity. Happy girl! I see the roaring,
+shrieking mob. I see your slender figure on the steps&mdash;what steps?
+Where? I hear your voice, clear and high. You are preaching to them;
+they close in round you: you disappear&mdash;they have dragged you down: they
+trample the life out of you. You are dead&mdash;dead&mdash;dead&mdash;and a name for
+ever. And the Cause has had its martyr.'</p>
+
+<p>It was strange. She who had offered herself as a disciple with deception
+in her heart, thinking only to watch and wait and spy until she could
+see her way plain before her, who knew that she was listening to the
+voice and the dreams of a madman. Yet she was carried away: he made her
+see the mob: she saw herself dragged down and trampled under their
+heels. She shuddered, yet she was exultant: her eyes glowed with a new
+light: she murmured: 'Yes&mdash;yes. Do with me what you please. I am your
+disciple, and I will be your martyr, if you please.'</p>
+
+<p>Great and wonderful is the power of Enthusiasm. You see, it matters
+nothing&mdash;nothing in the world&mdash;what a man has to preach and
+teach&mdash;whether he advocates Obi, or telepathy, or rapping, or spirits
+who hide teacups in coat pockets&mdash;it matters nothing that there is
+neither common sense nor evidence, nor common reason to back him: if he
+only possess the magnetic power, he will create a following: he will
+have disciples who will follow him to the death. What is it&mdash;this power?
+It makes the orator, the poet, the painter, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> novelist, the
+dramatist: it makes the leader of men: it made the first King, the first
+Priest, the first Conqueror.</p>
+
+<p>'Come,' said Mr. Edmund Gray; 'the time passes. I must take you to my
+Place.'</p>
+
+<p>They walked out together, Master and Scholar. The man who was mad walked
+carelessly and buoyantly, his coat flying open, one hand in his pocket,
+the other brandishing his walking-stick, his head thrown back, his face
+full of light, and, though his words were sometimes strong, always full
+of kindness. Now the sane man, the man of Lincoln's Inn, wore his coat
+tightly buttoned, walked with a firm precise step, looked straight
+before him, and showed the face of one wholly occupied with his own
+thoughts. There was a man who was mad and a man who was sane: and
+certainly the madman was the more interesting of the two.</p>
+
+<p>'This place,' said the Master, meaning Gray's Inn, 'is entirely filled
+with those who live by and for the defence of Property. They absorb and
+devour a vast portion of it while they defend it. No one, you see,
+defends it unless he is paid for it. Your country, your family, your
+honour&mdash;you will defend for nothing; but not another man's Property&mdash;no.
+For that you must be paid. Every year it becomes more necessary to
+defend Property; every year the hordes of mercenaries increase. Here
+they are lawyers and lawyers' clerks&mdash;a vast multitude. Outside there
+are agents, brokers, insurers, financiers&mdash;I know not what&mdash;all
+defending Property. They produce nothing, these armies: they take their
+toll: they devour a part of what other people have produced before they
+hand on the residue to the man who says it is his Property.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!'&mdash;but Elsie did not say this aloud&mdash;'if these words could only be
+heard in Lincoln's Inn! If they could be repeated to a certain lawyer.'
+From time to time she looked at him curiously. How if he should suddenly
+return to his senses? What would he think? How should she explain? 'Mr.
+Dering, you have been off your head. You have been talking the most
+blasphemous things about Property. You would never believe that even in
+madness you could say such things.' No; he never would believe
+it&mdash;never. He could not believe it. What if his brother, Sir Samuel,
+were to hear those words? Meantime, the Apostle walked along
+unconscious, filled with his great Mission. Oh, heavens! that Mr.
+Dering&mdash;Mr. Dering&mdash;should believe he had a Mission!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Master stopped a passing tramcar. 'Let us climb up to the roof,' he
+said. 'There we can talk and breathe and look about us, and sometimes we
+can listen.'</p>
+
+<p>On the seat in front of them sat two young men, almost boys, talking
+together eagerly. Mr. Edmund Gray leaned forward and listened
+shamelessly. 'They are two young atheists,' he said. 'They are cursing
+religion. There is to be a discussion this evening at Battle Arches
+between a Christian and an Atheist, and they are going to assist. They
+should be occupied with the question of the day; they can not, because
+they, too, are paid defenders of Property. They are lawyers' clerks.
+They are poor and they are slaves: all their lives they will be slaves
+and they will be poor. Instead of fighting against slavery and poverty,
+which they know and feel, they fight against the Unknown and the
+Unintelligible. Pity! Pity!'</p>
+
+<p>They passed two great Railway Termini, covering an immense area with
+immense buildings.</p>
+
+<p>'Now,' said the Sage, 'there are millions of Property invested in
+railways. Whenever the railway servants please, they can destroy all
+that Property at a stroke. Perhaps you will live to see this done.'</p>
+
+<p>'But,' said Elsie timidly, 'we must have things carried up and down the
+country.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. We shall go carrying things up and down the country, but not
+in the interests of Property.'</p>
+
+<p>The tram ran past the stations and under broad railway arches, called
+Battle Arches&mdash;where the two young atheists got down, eager for the
+fray, always renewed every Sunday afternoon, with the display of much
+intellectual skill and much ignorance. It is a duel from which both
+combatants retire, breathed and flushed, proud of having displayed so
+much smartness, both claiming the victory, surrounded by admiring
+followers, and neither of them killed, neither of them hurt, neither of
+them a bit the worse, and both ready to begin again the following Sunday
+with exactly the same attack and exactly the same defence. There are
+some institutions&mdash;Christianity, the Church of England, the House of
+Lords, for instance&mdash;which invite and receive perpetual attacks, from
+which they emerge without the least hurt, so far as one can perceive. If
+they were all abolished to-morrow, what would the spouters do?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The car stopped again, and two girls mounted&mdash;two work girls of the
+better sort&mdash;not, that is to say, the sort which wears an ulster and a
+large hat with a flaming feather in it: working-girl dressed quietly and
+neatly. They ought to have been cheerful and even gay, for they were
+both young, both good-looking, both nicely dressed, and it was Sunday
+afternoon, warm and sunny. Yet they were not cheerful at all. One of
+them was in a rage royal, and the other, her friend, was in a rage
+sympathetic&mdash;quite a real rage. They were talking loudly on the kerb
+while they waited for the tram: they carried on their conversation as
+they climbed the stair: they continued it while they chose a seat, and
+before they sat down, without the least regard to those who sat near
+them, whether they overheard or wished not to hear&mdash;or anything. They
+were wholly occupied with themselves and their rage and their narrative.
+They neither saw nor heeded anyone else&mdash;which is the way that the angry
+woman has.</p>
+
+<p>'So I told her&mdash;I up and told her, I did. "Yes," I sez, "you and your
+fifteen hours a day and overtime," I sez&mdash;"and your fines&mdash;so as to rob
+the poor girls of their money, and your stinkin' little room, as isn't
+fit for two, let alone a dozen&mdash;and your flarin' gas," I sez, "to choke
+us and poison us&mdash;and your dinners&mdash;yah! your dinners," I sez&mdash;"fit for
+pigs; and your beast of a husband comin' round with his looks and his
+leers"&mdash;"You let my husband alone," she sez&mdash;"His looks and his leers,"
+I sez. "Some day the girls'll take him out and drownd him head first, in
+the gutter," I sez. "And a good job too!"'</p>
+
+<p>'You didn't say all that, Liz?' asked the other, admiringly. 'My! What's
+she say to that? "Her beast of a husband"? And "his looks and his
+leers"? Did you really, Liz, and her that jealous?'</p>
+
+<p>'I did. Oh! I let her have it. For once she did have it. Then I took my
+money and I went off.&mdash;Never mind what she called me; that don't matter.
+She got the truth for once.'</p>
+
+<p>'What do you make of this, disciple?' asked the Master.</p>
+
+<p>'It seems a quarrel between the girl and her employer.'</p>
+
+<p>'These are the makers of Property. They are not the soldiers who defend
+it. They are those who create it. The girls are employed by the sweater,
+who stands on the lowest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> rung of the ladder of Property, and steals the
+things as fast as they are made.'</p>
+
+<p>'One of them has been turned out. What will she do? Will she find
+another place?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know. What becomes of the young? It is a difficult question. No
+one knows. Some say this and some say that. We know what becomes of the
+old when they are turned out. They die. But as for the young, I know
+not. You are young, and you are a woman. Go among the young women who
+have been turned out and find for yourself&mdash;for the world&mdash;what does
+become of them.'</p>
+
+<p>They passed an immense churchyard, with an ancient church standing in
+the midst&mdash;the churchyard now cleared of its headstones and converted
+into a beautiful garden, after the modern fashion, in which we have
+abandoned the pretence of remembering the dead, and plant flowers and
+turf above their graves for the solace of the living. Why not? Let the
+nameless dead be remembered by the nameless dead. Their virtues, if they
+had any, may live after them in their descendants.</p>
+
+<p>'See,' said Mr. Edmund Gray, moralising. 'Here they lie, those who were
+soldiers of Property and those who were slaves of Property. They are
+mostly the poor of their parish who lie in that garden. No headstones
+mark their grave. They were born: they toiled for others to enjoy: and
+they died. Is this the life that men should most desire?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nay,' said the disciple. 'But there must be the strong and weak&mdash;clever
+and dull: there must be inequalities.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, inequalities of gifts. One man is stronger, one is sharper, one is
+cleverer than another. Formerly, those gifts were used to make their
+possessor richer and more powerful. The strong man got followers and
+made slaves. The clever man cheated the dull man out of his land and his
+liberty. Henceforth, these gifts will be used for the general good.
+Patience! You shall understand all in good time.'</p>
+
+<p>He stopped the tram and they descended.</p>
+
+<p>Lying east of the Hampstead Road and Camden High Street, and bounded on
+that side by the canal&mdash;the great space occupied by the Midland and
+Great Northern Goods Dep&ocirc;t, by gas-works, wharfs, and railway
+arches&mdash;there is a network of streets very little known to any but the
+parish clergy. No part of London is less interesting than this district.
+It used<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> to be called Somers Town, but I think that the old name has
+almost died out. It is about a hundred years old, regarded as a
+settlement: it possesses three churches at least, two work-houses, one
+almshouse, and three burial-grounds turned into gardens. It is also
+cheered by the presence of a coal dep&ocirc;t. Many small industries are
+carried on in this quarter: there are many lodging-houses: the streets
+are rather grimy, the houses are rather shabby, the people are rather
+slipshod. They are not criminals: they are, in a way, respectable&mdash;that
+is to say, tolerably respectable. It is not a picturesque suburb:
+dulness reigns: it is a dull, a dull, a dismally dull quarter. There are
+children, but they lack mirth: and young girls, but they lack the spring
+of youth: one would say that there was a low standard in everything,
+even in the brightness of dress: the place looks better in winter than
+in summer. To-day, the bright sunshine only made the shabbiness of the
+streets more shabby.</p>
+
+<p>'Is your place here?' asked Elsie.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; it is here.&mdash;You wonder why I came here. Because the people here
+are not all working-people. Some of them are small employers&mdash;those of
+whom I spoke&mdash;who stand on the lowest rung of the ladder and steal the
+things as fast as they are made, and take toll, and hoard up savings.
+The working-man is generous and open to others, compared with these
+people. I planted my place down in the midst of them. But you shall
+see&mdash;you shall see.'</p>
+
+<p>It was like a dream. Elsie walked beside her conductor. Yesterday she
+made the acquaintance of this man for the first time; she had never seen
+him before except in his sane condition; he was a madman&mdash;a real
+dangerous madman&mdash;stark staring mad; he was taking her she knew not
+where&mdash;to some place among strange people: she walked beside him without
+the least fear. She who would have fled before the most harmless
+lunatic; and she was going with him as his disciple.</p>
+
+<p>'George,' she said afterwards, 'I do not know how it happened. I could
+not choose but go with him. I could not choose but to become his
+disciple: he compelled me. I lost my will. I even forgot that he was a
+madman: I gave up my reason and all: I followed him, and I believed all
+that he told me. How did he get that power? Directly I left him, I
+became myself again. I perceived the mad enthusiast. I saw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> Mr. Dering
+caricatured and proclaiming foolishness. But in his presence I was his
+servant and his slave.'</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>'Here we are,' he said. 'This is my Place. Let us go in.'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE HALL OF THE NEW FAITH</h3>
+
+<p>The Place, as Mr. Edmund Gray modestly called it, was a meek and
+unpretending Structure. The word is used advisedly, because no one could
+call it anything else. Not an Edifice; not a Building&mdash;a Structure. It
+turned its gabled front to the street, with a door below and a window
+above. It was of gray brick with a slate roof&mdash;a very plain and simple
+Structure. It might have been a Primitive Methodist Chapel&mdash;the
+Connexion are fond of such neat and unpretending places: or a room
+belonging to the Salvation Army: or one of those queer lecture halls
+affected by Secularists and generally called the Hall of Science. On the
+doorpost was affixed a small handbill, announcing that every Sunday
+evening at seven o'clock an address would be pronounced by Edmund Gray,
+on the subject of 'Property.' On the same bill, below the line of the
+principal title, were suggestive sub-titles. Thus:</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>'<span class="smcap">Property and its Origin</span>.'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>'<span class="smcap">Property and its Evils</span>.'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>'<span class="smcap">Property and its Dangers</span>.'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>'<span class="smcap">Property and Liberty</span>.'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>'<span class="smcap">Property and Progress</span>.'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>'<span class="smcap">Property and its Decay</span>.'</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>The Master pointed to the Bill. 'Read it,' he said. 'There you have my
+mission clearly announced. No mistake about it. A bold pronouncement,
+which cannot be mistaken. I make war against Property&mdash;I am the enemy
+irreconcilable&mdash;the enemy to the death&mdash;of Property. I am almost alone
+against the world, for my followers are a feeble folk and without power.
+All the interests, all the prejudices, all the powers, all the
+intellect, of the whole world are against me. I stand alone. But I
+fear nothing, because the future is given over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> to me and to
+mine&mdash;yea&mdash;though I do not live to see the day of Victory.'</p>
+
+<p>He opened the door, and Elsie entered. She found herself in a room about
+sixty feet long by twenty broad, and lofty&mdash;a fine and goodly room. It
+was furnished with a long and narrow table running down the middle, and
+a few benches. Nothing else. The table was laid with a white cloth, and
+provided with plates of ham and beef, cold sausages, hard-boiled eggs,
+cakes, toast, muffins, bread and butter, marmalade, jam, shrimps,
+water-cresses, and teacups. In fact, there was spread out a Tea of
+generous proportions.</p>
+
+<p>The room was half filled with thirty or forty people, mostly young,
+though there were some elderly men. Among them Elsie remarked, without
+surprise, the decayed Barrister of Gray's Inn. Perhaps he was attracted
+as much by the loaves as by the sermon. Three-quarters of them were
+young men. Elsie noticed that they were young men of a curious
+type&mdash;their faces keen, their eyes hard, their manner aggressive. They
+belonged to a Church Militant. They longed to be fighting. On the
+appearance of their preacher they flocked about him, shaking hands and
+inquiring after his health. At least, therefore, he had the affection of
+his followers.</p>
+
+<p>'My friends,' said the Prophet, 'I bring you a new Disciple. She comes
+to us from the very stronghold of Property. Her friends'&mdash;yet he had
+shown no sign of recognition&mdash;'are either those who pillage the
+producer, or those who rob the possessor on pretence of defending him.
+She is at present only a recruit. She comes to listen and to learn. She
+will go home to remember and to meditate. She is a recruit now who will
+be hereafter a Leader.'</p>
+
+<p>The people received her with curiosity. They were not of the higher
+classes, to put it mildly, and they had never had a young lady among
+them before. Two or three girls who were present&mdash;girls from the
+dressmaker's workrooms&mdash;looked at her frock with envy, and at her bonnet
+and her gloves with a yearning, helpless, heart-sinking admiration. To
+the young men she seemed a goddess, unapproachable. They stood at a
+distance: men of the rank above them would have worshipped. These young
+men only gaped. Such a girl had nothing to do with their lives.</p>
+
+<p>Apparently they had been waiting for the Master, for at the moment a
+stout woman and a girl appeared bearing trays<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> with teapots and jugs of
+hot water, which they placed upon the board. Mr. Edmund Gray took the
+chair. Elsie began to feel like Alice in Wonderland. She came to see a
+'Place': she expected to hear a sermon or a lecture; and behold a Tea!</p>
+
+<p>'Sit beside me,' said the Master. 'We begin our evening on Sunday with a
+simple feast, which I provide. It is a sign of brotherhood. Every Sunday
+we begin with this renewal of fraternity. Those who break bread together
+are brothers and sisters. In the good time to come every meal shall be
+in common, and every evening meal shall be a Feast. Eat and drink with
+us, my daughter. So you will understand that you belong to a
+Brotherhood.'</p>
+
+<p>'Try some shrimps, Miss,' said her neighbour on the right, an elderly
+man, who was a builder's foreman.</p>
+
+<p>History does not concern itself with what Elsie took. She found the meal
+very much to the purpose after a long afternoon of talk, argument, and
+emotion. She was young and she was hungry. The tea was good: the things
+to eat were good: the cake and toast were admirable. Elsie ate and drank
+and wondered what was coming next.</p>
+
+<p>After a little, she began to look round her and to watch the company.
+There were now, she counted, forty-five of them&mdash;forty-five disciples of
+Mr. Edmund Gray. What had he to teach them? The destruction of Property.
+Out of the four millions of London, forty-five were found who wanted to
+destroy Property&mdash;only forty-five. But perhaps all who advocated that
+step were not present. Her ancient prejudices whispered that this was a
+reassuring fact, considering that the Preacher had preached his doctrine
+for nine long years. Only forty-five. Next to her the foreman began to
+talk to her of Fourier and Owen, and a dozen half-forgotten leaders in
+the old experiments. He had been a Chartist in the Forties: he was a
+Socialist in these, the Nineties: but he confessed that before any real
+reform was attempted, Property must first be destroyed.</p>
+
+<p>'It's the selfishness,' he whispered earnestly, 'that's got to be torn
+out by the roots. Take that away, and there's a chance for the world. It
+never can be taken away till a man finds that he can't work no longer
+for himself, and that he must work for all, whether he likes it or lumps
+it. Don't give him the choice nor the chance, I say. Take away Property,
+and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> there's neither choice nor chance left. You hear Mr. Gray upon
+that. Oh, he's powerful! What do they say? Naked we came into the world.
+Naked we enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. There's a wonderful lot of
+fine things hangin' to that. You must wait till you hear Mr. Gray upon
+that theme.&mdash;Kingdom of Heaven! To hear the parsons talk, it's away
+above the clouds. Not so. It's here&mdash;close beside us&mdash;on this earth. All
+we've got to do is to put out our hands and reach it.'</p>
+
+<p>'You may put out your hands as much as you like,' said one of the
+younger men; 'but you won't reach it, all the same. Property stands
+between.'</p>
+
+<p>'At our place,' said a girl sitting opposite&mdash;a girl of intelligent
+face, pale and thin,&mdash;'we work from eight till eight, and sometimes
+longer, for twelve shillings a week. I know what things cost and what
+they sell for. I could produce enough to keep me&mdash;ah! a good deal better
+than I live now&mdash;if I could sell what I made myself&mdash;for four hours'
+work a day. So I work eight hours a day, not counting the dinner hour,
+just to keep the boss and to make Property for him. My Property it
+is&mdash;well&mdash;I know&mdash;in here, we say, <i>our</i> Property: outside we say, <i>my</i>
+Property. Where's your Kingdom of Heaven, then, if you reach out your
+hand ever so far, so long as I've got to work to make somebody else
+rich? Let's destroy Property, and then we shall see.'</p>
+
+<p>A desire&mdash;a foolish concealed desire, born of prejudice, seized Elsie to
+argue. For she perceived in the girl's reasoning certain confusions and
+intricacies. But she had the courage to suppress the inclination: she
+refrained. She was a disciple. She must listen.</p>
+
+<p>'I am a slave, like all the rest of us,' another young man remarked
+cheerfully. 'My Master owns me. He can sell me if he likes, only he
+calls it by another name; he can't take a whip and lash me, though he'd
+like to, because, if he did, I'd break every bone in his body for him,
+but he can cut down the work and the money. I do editing and reporting
+for a local paper. Thirty shillings a week. The proprietor makes ten
+pounds a week out of it. And I'm not allowed to tell the truth for fear
+of advertisers.' He added a few words not commonly heard in a place that
+looks like a chapel on a Sunday evening.</p>
+
+<p>Elsie observed that their faces showed two variations of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>
+expression&mdash;only two. The majority of the company had the eyes of the
+dreamer, the theorist, the enthusiast. They are soft eyes, and in repose
+are heavy, and they look through stone walls into space, far away&mdash;space
+where their dreams are realised and men and women live according to
+their theories. In moments of enthusiasm and passion they become flaming
+fires. These eyes belonged to most of those present. The rest&mdash;the
+minority&mdash;were those who are angry and restless and eager for the
+practical application of the doctrine. These want revolution: they are
+impatient: they feel for themselves the injustices and impressions which
+enthusiasts feel for others: these are always resentful: the others are
+always hopeful: these want to convert the world at once with bludgeon
+and with gun: the others are certain that before long the world will be
+converted by reason. The one despairs of anything but force: the other
+will have no force: the one hates his enemy: he would kill him if he
+could: he has no words too bad for him: the enthusiast, on the other
+hand, regards his enemy with pity, and would at any moment welcome him,
+forgive him, and&mdash;well&mdash;invite him to a Fraternal Tea if he would only
+desert his ranks and come over. And these are the two divisions in every
+party, and such is the nature of man that there must always be these two
+divisions.</p>
+
+<p>The Fraternal Tea finished, the company cleared the tables, everybody
+lending a hand, perhaps as another sign or pledge of fraternity. It was
+then nearly seven o'clock, the hour appointed for the address. The door
+was thrown wide open for the admission of the world; but there was no
+sign that the world took the least interest in the subject of Property.
+No one came at all. Elsie learned afterwards that the world outside the
+Hall had long since grown tired of the subject on which Mr. Gray had
+been preaching for nine years. Those who came to the Tea were the inner
+circle of believers or disciples, a small but faithful company, to whose
+members there was rarely any addition.</p>
+
+<p>At seven Mr. Edmund Gray rose to commence his address, standing at the
+head of the table, so that it was like an after-dinner speech. Outside,
+the sun was hot and bright and the air clear. Within the Hall, there
+were the mingled odours and steams of long-protracted and hearty
+Fraternal Tea: the air was heavy and the room dark. When the Master
+began to speak, a young man&mdash;one of the ardent and wrathful kind&mdash;drew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>
+out a note-book and took everything down: all listened with respect,
+some with rapt interest. Some nodded&mdash;some groaned&mdash;some said 'Hear'
+softly&mdash;to encourage the preacher and to show their adhesion to
+principle.</p>
+
+<p>Elsie sat at the right hand of the speaker. His discourses moved her
+much less in this public place than in his chambers. The persuasive
+voice was there, but it did not persuade her&mdash;moreover, she could not
+meet his eyes. Their magnetism failed to touch her. So much the better,
+because she could listen with cold judgment and watch the people.</p>
+
+<p>'My friends,' he began, 'my brothers and my sisters&mdash;we are all long
+since agreed that the root of all evil, the first form of disease, the
+first fatal step that was leading to so many other mischiefs, was the
+beginning of Property. We have proved that so often&mdash;we are all so
+entirely agreed upon this vital principle, that we seldom, and only on
+rare occasions, find it necessary to do more than assume its truth. That
+occasion, however, is the present, when we have among us one who comes
+as a stranger, yet a disciple: one who has a mind open to the influence
+of reason: one who is anxious to clear herself of the prejudices and
+absurdities in which she has been from infancy brought up. Let us,
+therefore, briefly, for her instruction and for the strengthening of our
+own faith, point out some of the arguments which support this position.
+It is to us an axiom. To the world it still requires proof. And the
+world refuses to accept the proof, because it is given over to the Chase
+of the Abominable Thing.'</p>
+
+<p>He proceeded to parade the reasons which made his School regard Property
+as the root of all evil. The line which lie pursued was not new: many
+men have pointed out before Mr. Edmund Gray the selfishness of mankind
+as illustrated by the universal game of Grab: others, with equal force,
+have shown that the protection of Things causes an immense expenditure
+and a great shrinkage in Things: others have shown that it is the
+continual efforts of men to get without working the Things for which
+others have worked, that fill our jails and keep up an army of police.</p>
+
+<p>'We start with a false principle,' the Master went on, 'which has ruined
+the world and still keeps it down. If there are to be rich men, they
+must become rich at the expense of the rest: they must be few and the
+poor must be many. Therefore, the protection of Property is the robbery
+of the poor by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> law. We all know that: in this place we have agreed, so
+far a thousand times: the rich can only become rich by robbing the poor:
+they rob their land: they rob their work: they rob their whole
+lives&mdash;and they are permitted and encouraged by the Law. Shall we, then,
+change the Law? No: it would be a work too vast. Shall we change the
+minds of men? Not by reason: it is impossible by any argument so long as
+by law and custom they can still rob the producer of his work. The only
+way is to destroy all Property. When men can no longer by any kind of
+thought get richer than their neighbours, then they will cease to think
+for themselves, and think for the whole community. You will say&mdash;some
+one may object&mdash;that some are not the same in strength of mind or of
+body: there will be many, then, who will refuse to work at all, and
+become burdens on the community. We have thought of that objection. At
+first, there would be many such; but not for long. Because we should
+kill them. Yes, my friends,' he added with a smile of the sweetest
+benevolence. 'For the good of the community it will be necessary,
+without any sentimental considerations, to kill all those who refuse to
+work, all those who shirk their work, all those who persistently do
+scamped and bad work. They must die. So the commonwealth shall contain
+none but those who are vigorous, loyal, and true. For the
+rest&mdash;Death&mdash;if it means the death of a million who were once
+rich&mdash;Death is the only escape from the difficulty which is so often
+objected.</p>
+
+<p>'It has been asked again how we differ from the Socialists. In this. We
+would begin with no theories, no constitution, no code. Only let every
+man give all his strength, all his heart, all his mind, to the good of
+the commonwealth, without the least power of enriching himself, saving
+money&mdash;of course there would be no money&mdash;without the chance of getting
+better food and better clothes than the rest&mdash;and we may safely leave
+the world to take care of itself. Why&mdash;my brothers&mdash;why&mdash;my
+sisters&mdash;should we poor purblind creatures, unable to comprehend more
+than a glimpse of that glorious future which awaits the world when
+Property shall be destroyed&mdash;why&mdash;I say&mdash;should we dare to lay down
+schemes and invent systems for that glorified humanity? Let us leave
+them to themselves. They will be as far above us, my brothers, as we are
+already above the holders and the defenders of Property.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Elsie looked at the little gathering&mdash;five-and-forty&mdash;with a little
+smile. They were then already far above the holders and the defenders of
+Property, and again she thought, 'What if these words were heard in
+Lincoln's Inn?'</p>
+
+<p>'How, then, can Property be destroyed?'</p>
+
+<p>At this practical question every one sat upright, coughed, and looked
+interested. Their Preacher had often enough declaimed upon the evils of
+Property. He seldom spoke of a practical way. Perhaps the time had come.</p>
+
+<p>'There are, my friends, several ways. They are already beginning to be
+understood and to be worked. The Irish and the politicians who wanted
+the Irish vote have shown the world how to destroy property in land.
+Believe me, that example will be followed. It was an evil day for the
+holders of Property when the Government interfered between the landlord
+and his tenant. That example will bear fruit elsewhere. We shall see
+everywhere the owners of the land turned out and their places taken by
+those who work the land. The next step is from land to houses. Why not
+with houses as with land? Since a beginning has been made, it must be
+carried on. But there is other property besides lands and houses. There
+are companies with shares, railways, and so forth. We have only begun to
+see what united labour can effect&mdash;since union of labour is, in fact,
+not yet begun. When it is fairly started it will pay small respect to
+shareholders and to dividends. When wages are paid, there will be
+perhaps no dividend left at all. In a single year&mdash;nay, a single
+week&mdash;the whole capital invested in all the companies will lose its
+value: it will be so much waste-paper. My friends, we need not stir hand
+or foot to bring about this end: it will be done for us by the
+working-man, and by those who follow the example of Ireland. They will
+do it for their own selfish ends first&mdash;but&mdash;Property once destroyed, we
+shall never again allow it to be created.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!'&mdash;he warmed with his subject, his voice grew more musical, his face
+glowed&mdash;'I see a splendid&mdash;a noble sight. I see the great houses in the
+country fallen to ruin and decay: their contents are stored in museums:
+the great palaces of the towns are pulled down: the towns themselves are
+decayed and shrunk: there is no Property: there is no one working for
+himself: the man of science works his laboratory for the community&mdash;but
+he has the honour of his discoveries:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> the medical man pursues his work
+with no thought of getting rich: there is plenty to go the round of
+everything&mdash;oh! plenty of the best. We can have what we like, do what we
+like, dress as we like, teach what we please&mdash;provided we work for the
+State. If we refuse&mdash;Death! If we give bad work&mdash;Death! It is the only
+Law. We shall have no lawyers&mdash;no power&mdash;no magistrates. Oh! great and
+glorious time&mdash;you shall see it, you who are young&mdash;yes, you shall see
+it&mdash;while I&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;who have dreamed of the time so long&mdash;I shall lie low
+in the grave. What matter&mdash;so the time come and so the world rises free
+at last to follow out the destiny of a new and glorified humanity!'</p>
+
+<p>He sat down and laid his head upon his hand, as one in prayer. They
+remained in silence till he raised his head. Then the young man who had
+called attention to his slavery spoke.</p>
+
+<p>'There is perhaps another way,' he said, 'which might do the job for us.
+Suppose the chemists were to find out how to produce food&mdash;food of any
+kind&mdash;artificially&mdash;just as good and as nourishing as if it was
+butcher-meat or bread. Suppose it could be produced dirt cheap&mdash;most
+chemists' things cost nothing. Then no one would need to work: because
+he'd have his food found for him. If no one would need to work, no one
+could get rich any more. And if no one wanted to buy anything, nobody
+could sell. Then riches wouldn't count, and there you are. Let's get a
+chemist to take the thing up.'</p>
+
+<p>The conversation that followed struck out new ideas. Presently it
+flagged, and one by one the people stole away.</p>
+
+<p>The Master and the Disciple returned in the tram as far as Gray's Inn.</p>
+
+<p>The Master fell into profound silence a quarter of an hour before the
+end of the journey. When they got down, Elsie observed first, that he
+buttoned his coat; next, that he put on gloves; thirdly, that he pulled
+his hat forwards: and lastly, that he ignored her presence. He drew
+himself erect, and walked away with firm and precise step in the
+direction of Bedford Row, which is on the other side of Gray's Inn. He
+was once more Mr. Edward Dering.</p>
+
+<p>'I wonder,' said Elsie, 'how much, to-morrow, he will recollect?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+
+<h3>CAN HE REMEMBER?</h3>
+
+<p>It was past ten o'clock that Sunday evening when Elsie arrived home.
+Athelstan and George were waiting up for her. 'Again the mysterious
+appointment?' asked the former. 'Are we to know anything yet?'&mdash;Elsie
+shook her head.&mdash;'Not to-night? Very good. You look tired, Elsie.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am tired, thank you. And&mdash;and I think I would rather not talk
+to-night. I will go to my own room.&mdash;Have patience, both of you, for a
+day or two longer. Believe me, everything is going well. The only reason
+why I cannot tell you what I have been doing is that it is so
+strange&mdash;so wonderful&mdash;that I have not been able even to shape it into
+words in my own mind.&mdash;What is to-day? The 1st of August.'</p>
+
+<p>'Only eleven days yet&mdash;eleven long days,' said George, 'but also eleven
+short days.'</p>
+
+<p>'I do not forget. Well&mdash;you may both of you sit down&mdash;go about your
+business&mdash;you need do nothing more. As for me, I think you will have to
+get on without me every evening this week. But be quite easy. The thing
+is done.' And with that, nodding and laughing, she ran out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>'It is done,' repeated George. 'The thing is done. Which thing?'</p>
+
+<p>'It is done,' repeated Athelstan. 'What is done? How was it done? Who
+did it? When was it done?'</p>
+
+<p>'Since Elsie says it is done, I am bound to accept her assurance.
+Presumably, she has caught old Checkley at South Square, in the very
+act. Never mind; I am quite sure that Elsie knows what she says.'</p>
+
+<p>In her own retreat Elsie sat down to consider.</p>
+
+<p>If you think of it, she had a good deal to consider. She had, in fact, a
+tremendous weapon, an eighty-ton Woolwich, in her possession; a thing
+which had to be handled so that when it was fired it should not produce
+a general massacre. All those who had maligned and spoken and thought
+evil of her brother and her lover should, she thought, be laid
+prostrate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> by the mere puff and whiff of the discharge. Checkley should
+fall backwards, and raise a bump at the back of his head as big as an
+egg. Sir Samuel and Hilda should be tumbled down in the most ignominious
+fashion, just as if they had no money at all. And her mother should be
+forced to cry out that she had been wrong and hasty.</p>
+
+<p>She held in her own hands nothing less than the complete demolition of
+all this erection of suspicion and malignity. Nothing less. She could
+restore to her brother that which he had never lost, save in the eyes of
+his own people, who should have been the most jealous to preserve it. No
+greater service could be rendered to him. And she could clear from her
+lover's name whatever shreds and mists had been gathered round it by the
+industrious breath of Checkley&mdash;that humble Cloud Compeller. You see, we
+all have this much of Zeus in us, even in the compelling of Clouds:
+every man by the exercise of a little malignity, a little insinuation
+and a few falsehoods, can raise quite a considerable mist about the head
+or the name or the figure or the reputation of anyone. Women&mdash;some
+women, that is&mdash;are constantly engaged in this occupation; and after
+they have been at their work, it is sometimes hard for the brightest
+sunshine to melt those mists away.</p>
+
+<p>To be able to clear away clouds is a great thing. Besides this, Elsie
+had found out what the rest had failed to find out&mdash;and by the simplest
+method. She had learned from the only person who knew at what hour she
+should be most likely to find the mysterious Edmund Gray, and she had
+then waited on the stairs until he came. No method more direct&mdash;yet
+nobody thought of it except herself. She had done it. As the result,
+there was no longer any mystery. The man who forged the first cheque:
+the man who wrote those letters and conducted their transfer: was, as
+they all thought at first, Edmund Gray. No other. And Edmund Gray was
+Edward Dering, one and the same person&mdash;and Edward Dering was a Madman,
+and this discovery it was which so profoundly impressed her. There were
+no confederates: there was no one wanted to intercept the post: no one
+had tampered with the safe: the Chief himself had received the letters
+and conducted the correspondence alternately as Edmund Gray himself, or
+Edmund Gray acting unconsciously for Edward Dering.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Perfectly impossible&mdash; Perfectly simple&mdash; Perfectly intelligible. As for
+the impossibility, a fact may remain when its impossibility is
+established. Elsie was not a psychologist or a student of the brain. She
+knew nothing about mental maladies. She only said after what she had
+seen and heard: 'The man is mad.'</p>
+
+<p>Then she thought how she should best act. To establish the identity of
+Mr. Dering and Edmund Gray must be done. It was the one thing necessary.
+Very well. That could easily be done, and in a simple way. She had only
+to march into his office at the head of a small band of witnesses and
+say: 'You wanted us to find out Edmund Gray! I have found him. And thou
+art the man!'</p>
+
+<p>He would deny it. He certainly knew nothing about it. Then she would
+call upon her witnesses. First, Athelstan's commissionaire, who declared
+that he should remember, even after eight years or eighty years, the
+gentleman who sent him to cash that cheque. 'Who is this man,
+commissionaire?'</p>
+
+<p>'That is Mr. Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>Next the landlord of his chambers. 'Who is this man?'</p>
+
+<p>'That is Mr. Edmund Gray, my tenant for nine years.'</p>
+
+<p>Then she would call the eminent Barrister, Mr. Langhorne. 'Do you know
+this man?'</p>
+
+<p>'He is my neighbour, Mr. Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>And Freddy Carstone the Coach.</p>
+
+<p>'He is my neighbour, Mr. Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>And the laundress, and she would say: 'I have done for the gentleman for
+nine years. He's a very good gentleman, and generous&mdash;and his name is
+Mr. Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>And the people from the Hall&mdash;and they would make answer, with one
+consent: 'That is Mr. Edmund Gray, our preacher and our teacher.'</p>
+
+<p>And she herself would give her testimony: 'I have sat with you in your
+Chambers. I have heard you lecture in your Hall, surrounded by these
+good people, and you are Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>The thing was quite easy to do. She could bring forward all this
+evidence at once, and it would be unanswerable and convincing even to
+Sir Samuel.</p>
+
+<p>Except for one thing which made it difficult.</p>
+
+<p>The discovery would be a most dreadful&mdash;a most terrible&mdash;revelation to
+one who believed himself to be the most respectable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> solicitor in the
+whole of London; the most trustworthy; the clearest in mind; the keenest
+in vision; the coldest in judgment. He would learn without the least
+previous suspicion or preparation, or any softening of the blow, that
+for many years he had been&mdash;&mdash; What? Is there any other word&mdash;any kinder
+word&mdash;any word less terrifying or less humiliating by which the news
+could be conveyed to him that he had been Mad&mdash;Mad&mdash;Mad? Heavens! what a
+word it is! How terrible to look at with its three little letters which
+mean so much! All the words that mean much are monosyllables:
+God&mdash;Love&mdash;Joy&mdash;Hate&mdash;Fear&mdash;Glad&mdash;Sad&mdash;Mad&mdash;Bad&mdash;Hell&mdash;Home&mdash;Wife&mdash;Child&mdash;House&mdash;Song&mdash;Feast&mdash;Wine&mdash;Kiss&mdash;everything&mdash;they
+are the oldest words, you see; they have been used from time immemorial
+by prehistoric man as well as by ourselves.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering had to be told that he was Mad. Somehow or other, he must be
+told that. It seemed at first the only way out of the difficulty. How
+could this girl communicate the dreadful news to her guardian, who had
+always been to her considerate, and even affectionate? She shrank from
+the task. Then she thought she would hand it over to her brother
+Athelstan. But he was far more concerned about clearing up the hateful
+business than about softening the blow for Mr. Dering. Or of
+communicating it to George. What should she do? Mr. Dering was mad. Not
+mad all the time, but mad now and then, sometimes every day, sometimes
+with intervals. This kind of madness, I believe, takes many forms&mdash;a
+fact which should make the strongest men tremble. Sometimes it lasts a
+long time before it is found out. Sometimes even it is never found out
+at all. Solicitors and doctors tell queer stories about it. For
+instance, that story&mdash;quite a common story&mdash;of an old gentleman of
+irreproachable reputation, a speaker and leader in religious circles, a
+man enormously respected by all classes, concerning whom not his
+bitterest enemy had a word of scandal&mdash;yet, after his death, things
+deplorable, things incredible, things to be suppressed at any cost, were
+brought to the knowledge of his lawyers. At certain times he went mad,
+you see. Then he forgot who he was: he forgot his reputation, his place
+in the world, and the awful penalties of being found out: he went down:
+he lived among people of the baser sort, and became an inferior man with
+another name, and died without ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> knowing his own dreadful record.
+Another of whom I have heard was mad for fifteen years, yet the Chief of
+a great House, who all the time conducted the business with great
+ability. He was found out at last because he began to buy things. Once
+he sent home six grand pianos: another time he bought all the cricket
+bats that were in stock in a certain shop; and another time he bought
+all the hats that fitted him at all the hatters' shops within a circle
+whose centre was Piccadilly Circus and the radius a mile long. After
+this they gave him a cheerful companion, who took walks abroad with him,
+and he retired from active business.</p>
+
+<p>Some philosophers maintain that we are all gone mad on certain points.
+In that case, if one does not know it or suspect it, and if our friends
+neither know nor suspect it, what does it matter? There are also, we all
+know, points on which some of us are mad, and everybody knows it. There
+is the man who believes that he is a great poet, and publishes volume
+after volume, all at his own expense, to prove it: there is the man&mdash;but
+he ought to be taken away and put on a treadmill&mdash;who writes letters to
+the papers on every conceivable subject with the day before yesterday's
+wisdom: there is the man who thinks he can paint&mdash;we all know plenty of
+men mad like unto these, and we are for the most part willing to
+tolerate them. Considerations, however, on the universality of the
+complaint fail to bring consolation to any except those who have it not.
+In the same way, nobody who dies of any disease is comforted with the
+thought of the rarity or the frequency of that disease; its interesting
+character has no charm for him. Nor is the man on his way to be hanged
+consoled by the reminder that thousands have trodden that flowery way
+before him. To Mr. Dering, proud of his own intellect, self-sufficient
+and strong, the discovery of these things would certainly bring
+humiliation intolerable, perhaps&mdash;even&mdash;shame unto Death itself.
+How&mdash;oh! how could things be managed so as to spare him this pain?</p>
+
+<p>Elsie's difficulties grew greater the more she pondered over them. It
+was past midnight when she closed the volume of thought and her eyes at
+the same moment.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning, Athelstan kissed her gravely.</p>
+
+<p>'Do you remember what you said last night, Elsie? You said that we could
+rest at peace because the thing was done.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Well, Athelstan, the words could only have one meaning, could they? I
+mean, if you want me to be more explicit, that the thing is actually
+done. My dear brother, I know all about it now. I know who signed that
+first cheque&mdash;who sent the commissionaire to the Bank&mdash;who received the
+notes&mdash;who placed them in the safe&mdash;who wrote about the transfers&mdash;who
+received the letters and carried on the whole business. I can place my
+hand upon him to-day if necessary.'</p>
+
+<p>'Without doubt? With proofs, ample proofs?'</p>
+
+<p>'Without the least doubt&mdash;with a cloud of witnesses. My dear brother, do
+not doubt me. I have done it. Yet&mdash;for a reason&mdash;to spare one most
+deeply concerned&mdash;for the pity of it&mdash;if you knew&mdash;give me a few days&mdash;a
+week, perhaps, to find a way if I can. If I cannot, then the cruel truth
+must be told bluntly, whatever happens.'</p>
+
+<p>'Remember all the mischief the old villain has done.'</p>
+
+<p>'The old villain? Oh! you mean Checkley?'</p>
+
+<p>'Of course; whom should I mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nobody&mdash;nothing. Brother, if you bid me speak to-day, I will speak. No
+one has a better right to command. But if this&mdash;this person&mdash;were to die
+to-day, my proofs are so ample that there could be no doubt possible.
+Yes&mdash;even my mother&mdash;it is dreadful to say it&mdash;but she is so hard and so
+obstinate&mdash;even my mother would acknowledge that there is no doubt
+possible.'</p>
+
+<p>Athelstan stooped and kissed her. 'Order it exactly as you please, my
+child. If I have waited eight long years, I can wait another week.
+Another week. Then I shall at last be able to speak of my people at
+home. I shall go back to California with belongings like other men. I
+shall be able to make friends; I can even, if it comes in my way, make
+love, Elsie. Do you think you understand quite what this means to me?'</p>
+
+<p>He left her presently to go about his work.</p>
+
+<p>In the corner of the room stood her easel with the portrait, the fancy
+portrait, of Mr. Dering the Benevolent&mdash;Mr. Dering the Optimist&mdash;Mr.
+Dering as he might be with the same features and the least little change
+in their habitual setting.</p>
+
+<p>Elsie stood before this picture, looking at it curiously.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' she murmured, 'you are a dear, tender-hearted,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> kindly,
+benevolent, simple old Thing. You believe in human nature: you think
+that everybody is longing for the Kingdom of Heaven. You think that
+everybody would be comfortable in it: that everybody longs for honesty.
+Before I altered you and improved your face, you were Justice without
+mercy: you were Law without leniency: you were Experience which knows
+that all men are wicked by choice when they get the chance: you had no
+soft place anywhere: you held that Society exists only for the
+preservation of Property. Oh! you are so much more lovable now, if you
+would only think so&mdash;if you only knew. You believe in men and women:
+that is a wonderful advance&mdash;and you have done well to change your old
+name to your new name. I think I should like you always to be Edmund
+Gray. But how am I to tell you? How, in the name of wonder, am I to tell
+you that you are Edmund Gray? First of all, I must see you&mdash; I must
+break the thing gently&mdash; I must force you somehow to recollect, as soon
+as possible. I must make you somehow understand what has happened.'</p>
+
+<p>She had promised to meet Mr. Edmund Gray at his Chambers that evening at
+five. He showed his confidence in her by giving her a latch-key, so that
+she might let herself in if he happened not to be in the Chambers when
+she called, at five. She would try, then, to bring him back to himself.
+She pictured his amazement&mdash;his shame&mdash;at finding himself in strange
+rooms under another name, preaching wild doctrines. It would be too much
+for him. Better go to Mr. Dering, the real Mr. Dering, and try to move
+him in his own office, to recollect what had happened. Because, you see,
+Elsie, unacquainted with these obscure forms of brain disease, imagined
+that she might by artful question and suggestion clear that clouded
+memory, and show the lawyer his double figuring as a Socialist.</p>
+
+<p>She waited till the afternoon. She arrived at New Square about three,
+two hours before her engagement at Gray's Inn.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering received her with his usual kindness. He was austerely
+benignant.</p>
+
+<p>'I tried to see you last night,' she said, untruthfully, because the
+words conveyed the impression that she had called upon him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no. I was&mdash; I suppose I was out. I went out&mdash;&mdash;' His face clouded,
+and he stopped.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;you were saying, Mr. Dering, that you went out.'</p>
+
+<p>'Last night was Sunday, wasn't it? Yes; I went out.&mdash;Where did I go?' He
+drummed the table with his fingers irritably. 'Where did I go?
+Where?&mdash;What does it matter?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing at all. Only it is strange that you should not remember.'</p>
+
+<p>'I told you once before, Elsie,' he said, 'I suffer&mdash;I labour&mdash;under
+curious fits of forgetfulness. Now, at this moment, I&mdash;it really is
+absurd&mdash;I cannot remember where I was last night. I am an old man. It is
+the privilege of age to forget yesterday, and to remember fifty years
+ago.'</p>
+
+<p>'I was talking last night to an old gentleman who said much the same. He
+has Chambers where he goes to write: he has a Lecture Hall&mdash;where he
+preaches to the people&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering looked at her in mild surprise. What did she mean? Elsie
+coloured.</p>
+
+<p>'Of course,' she said, 'this has nothing to do with you.'</p>
+
+<p>'How I spent the evening I know very well,' Mr. Dering went on. 'Yet I
+forget. That is the trouble with me. My housekeeper will not give me
+dinner on Sunday evening, and on that day I go to my Club. I get there
+about five or six: I read the magazines till seven. Sometimes I drop off
+to sleep&mdash;we old fellows will drop off, you know&mdash;about seven I have
+dinner. After dinner I take my coffee, and read or talk if there is any
+one I know. About nine I walk home. That has been my custom for many
+years. Therefore, that is how I spent the evening of yesterday.&mdash;But,
+you see, I cannot remember it. Breakfast I remember, and the Church
+service afterwards. Luncheon I remember: getting home at ten I remember.
+But the interval between I cannot remember.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you forget other things? Do you remember Saturday afternoon, for
+instance?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;perfectly. I left the office about five. I walked straight
+home.&mdash;No&mdash;no&mdash;that isn't right. It was nearly eight when I got home. I
+remember. The dinner was spoiled.&mdash;No&mdash;I did not go straight home.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps you stayed here till past seven?'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no. I remember looking at the clock as I put on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> my hat. It was
+half-past five when I went out&mdash; Five. What did I do between half-past
+five o'clock and eight? I forget. You see, my trouble, Elsie&mdash;I forget.
+Perhaps I went to the Club: perhaps I strolled about: perhaps I came
+back here. There are three hours to account for&mdash;and I have forgotten
+them all.'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+
+<h3>WILL HE REMEMBER?</h3>
+
+<p>Should she tell him? She could not. The way must somehow be prepared.
+No&mdash;she could not tell him just so&mdash;in cold blood. How would he look if
+she were to begin: 'I have found out the mystery. You are Edmund Gray.
+During the hours that you cannot recall, you are playing the part of a
+Socialist teacher and leader: you are actively propagating the doctrines
+that you hold to be dangerous and misleading'? What would he say? What
+would he feel when he realised the truth?</p>
+
+<p>On the table lay a copy of the <i>Times</i>&mdash;a fortnight-old copy&mdash;open at
+the place where there was a certain letter from a certain Edmund Gray.
+Elsie pointed to it. Mr. Dering sighed. 'Again,' he said, 'they
+persecute me. Now it is a letter addressed to Edmund Gray, lying on my
+table: now it is the bill of a pernicious lecture by Edmund Gray: to-day
+it is this paper with the letter that appeared a week or two ago. Who
+brought it here? Checkley says he didn't. Who put it on my table?'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie made no reply. It was useless to test her former theory of the boy
+under the table.</p>
+
+<p>'As for the man who wrote this letter,' Mr. Dering went on, 'he bears
+the name of our forger and writes from the same address. Yet he is not
+the man. Of that I am convinced. This man is a fool because he believes
+in the honesty of mankind: he is a generous fool, because he believes
+that people would rather be good than bad. Nonsense! They would rather
+be stealing from each other's plates, like the monkeys, than dividing
+openly. He has what they call a good heart&mdash;that is, he is a soft
+creature&mdash;and he is full of pity for the poor. Now, in my young days, I
+was taught&mdash;what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> after-experience has only brought more home to
+me&mdash;that the poor are poor in consequence of their vices. We used to say
+to them: "Go away&mdash;practise thrift. Be sober&mdash;work hard. By exercising
+these virtues we rose out of your ranks. By continuing to exercise them
+we remain on these levels. Go away. There is no remedy for disease
+contracted by vice. Go away and suffer." That's what we said formerly.
+What they say now is: "Victims of greed! You are filled with every
+virtue possible to humanity. You are down-trodden by the Capitalist. You
+are oppressed. Make and produce for others to enjoy. We will change all
+this. We will put the fruits&mdash;the harvest&mdash;of your labour in your own
+hands, and you shall show the world your justice, your noble
+disinterestedness, your generosity, your love of the common weal."
+That's the new gospel, Elsie, and I prefer the old.'</p>
+
+<p>Strange that a man should at one time hold and preach with so much
+fervour and earnestness the very creed which at another time he
+denounced as fiercely!</p>
+
+<p>'This man, and such as he,' continued Mr. Dering, lifted out of his
+anxieties by that subject, 'would destroy Property in order to make the
+workman rich. Wonderful doctrine! He would advance the world by
+destroying the only true incentive and stimulant for work, invention,
+civilisation, association, and every good and useful thing. He would
+destroy Property. And then? Can he not see what would follow? Why, these
+people do not know the very alphabet of the thing. By Property they mean
+the possession by individuals of land or money. But that is only a part
+of Property. Take that away, and the individual remains. And he has
+got&mdash;what you cannot take away&mdash;the rest of his Property, by which he
+will speedily repair the temporary loss. Consider, child, if you can,
+what does a man possess? He has, I say, Property&mdash;all his own&mdash;which
+cannot be taken from him or shared with another&mdash;Property in his brain,
+his trade, his wit, his craft, his art, his skill, his invention, his
+enterprise, his quickness to grip an opportunity. Again, he has his wife
+and children&mdash;sometimes a very valuable Property: he has, besides, his
+memories, his knowledge, his experience, his thoughts, his hopes, his
+projects, and intentions: he has his past and he has his future: he has,
+or thinks he has, his inheritance in the Kingdom of Heaven. Take away
+all these things bit by bit, what is left? Nothing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> Not even the shadow
+of a man. Not even a naked figure. This, Elsie, is Property. These
+things separate the individual from the mass, and each man from his
+neighbour. A shallow fanatic, like this Edmund Gray, thinks that wealth
+is the whole of Property. Why, I say, it is only a part of Property: it
+is the external and visible side of certain forms of Property. Take all
+the wealth away to-day&mdash;even if you make ten thousand laws, the same
+qualities&mdash;the same forms of Property&mdash;the same lack of those qualities
+will produce like results to-morrow.&mdash;Do you now understand, child, what
+is meant by Property? It is everything which makes humanity. Wealth is
+only the symbol or proof of society so organised that all these
+qualities&mdash;the whole Property of a man, can be exercised freely and
+without injustice.'</p>
+
+<p>'I see,' said Elsie, gazing with wonder undisguised. Was this last
+night's Prophet? Could the same brain hold two such diverse views'?</p>
+
+<p>'You are surprised, child. That is because you have never taken or
+understood this larger view of Property. It is new to you. Confess,
+however, that it lends sacredness to things which we are becoming
+accustomed to have derided. Believe me, it is not without reason that
+some of us venerate the laws which have been slowly, very slowly,
+framed: and the forms which have been slowly, very slowly, framed: as
+experience has taught us wisdom for the protection of man&mdash;working man,
+not loafing, lazy man. It is wise and right of us to maintain all those
+institutions which encourage the best among us to work and invent and
+distribute. By these forms alone is industry protected and enterprise
+encouraged. Then such as this Edmund Gray'&mdash;he laid his hand again upon
+the letter&mdash;'will tell you that Property&mdash;Property&mdash;causes certain
+crimes&mdash;ergo, Property must be destroyed. Everything desirable causes
+its own peculiar class of crime. Consider the universal passion of Love.
+It daily causes crimes innumerable. Yet no one has yet proposed the
+abolition of Love&mdash;eh?'</p>
+
+<p>'I believe not,' Elsie replied, smiling. 'I hope no one will&mdash;yet.'</p>
+
+<p>'No. But the desire for Property, which is equally universal&mdash;which is
+the most potent factor in the cause of Law and Order&mdash;they desire and
+propose to destroy. I have shown you that it is impossible. Let the
+companies pay no dividends,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> let all go to the working men: let the
+lands pay no rent: the houses no rent: let the merchants' capital yield
+no profit: to-morrow the clever man will be to the front again, using
+for his own purposes the dull and the stupid and the lazy. That is my
+opinion.&mdash;Forgive this sermon, Elsie. You started me on the subject. It
+is one on which I have felt very strongly for a long time. In fact, the
+more I think upon it the more I am convinced that the most important
+thing in any social system is the protection of the individual&mdash;personal
+liberty: freedom of contract: right to enjoy in safety what his ability,
+his enterprise, and his dexterity may gain for him.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie made no reply for a moment. The conversation had taken an
+unexpected turn. The vehemence of the upholder of Property overwhelmed
+her as much as the earnestness of its destroyer. Besides, what chance
+has a girl of one-and-twenty on a subject of which she knows nothing
+with a man who has thought upon it for fifty years? Besides, she was
+thinking all the time of the other man. And now there was no doubt&mdash;none
+whatever&mdash;that Mr. Dering knew nothing of Mr. Edmund Gray&mdash;nothing at
+all. He knew nothing and suspected nothing of the truth. And which
+should she believe? The man who was filled with pity for the poor and
+saw nothing but their sufferings, or the man who was full of sympathy
+with the rich, and saw in the poor nothing but their vices? Are all men
+who work oppressed? Or are there no oppressed at all, but only some lazy
+and stupid and some clever?</p>
+
+<p>'Tell me more another time,' she said, with a sigh. 'Come back to the
+case&mdash;the robbery. Is anything discovered yet?'</p>
+
+<p>'I have heard nothing. George refuses to go on with the case out of some
+scruple because&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! I know the cause. Very cruel things have been said about him. Do
+you not intend to stand by your own partner, Mr. Dering?'</p>
+
+<p>'To stand by him? Why, what can I do?'</p>
+
+<p>'You know what has been said of him&mdash;what is said of him&mdash;why I have had
+to leave home&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I know what is said, certainly. It matters nothing what is said. The
+only important thing is to find out&mdash;and that they cannot do.'</p>
+
+<p>'They want to connect Edmund Gray with the forgeries, and they are
+trying the wrong way. Checkley is not the connecting link&mdash;nor is
+George.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'You talk in riddles, child.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps. Do you think, yourself, that George has had anything whatever
+to do with the business?'</p>
+
+<p>'If you put it so, I do not. If you ask me what I have a right to
+think&mdash;it is that everything is possible.'</p>
+
+<p>'That is what you said about Athelstan. Yet now his innocence is
+established.'</p>
+
+<p>'That is to say, his guilt is not proved. Find me the man who forged
+that cheque, and I will acknowledge that he is innocent. Until then, he
+is as guilty as the other man&mdash;Checkley&mdash;who was also named in
+connection with the matter. Mind, I say, I do not believe that my
+Partner could do this thing. I will tell him so. I have told him so. If
+it had to be done over again, I would ask him to become my partner. But
+all things are possible. My brother is hot upon it. Well&mdash;let him search
+as he pleases. In such a case the solution is always the simplest and
+the most unexpected. I told him only this morning&mdash;he had lunch with
+me&mdash;that he was on a wrong scent&mdash;but he is obstinate. Let him go on.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;let him divide a family&mdash;keep up bitterness between mother and
+son&mdash;make a lifelong separation between those who ought to love each
+other most&mdash;&mdash; Oh! it is shameful! It is shameful! And you make no
+effort&mdash;none at all&mdash;to stop it.'</p>
+
+<p>'What can I do? What can I say, more than I have said? If they would
+only not accuse each other&mdash;but find out something!'</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Dering&mdash;forgive me&mdash;what I am going to say'&mdash;she began with jerks.
+'The honour of my brother&mdash;of my lover&mdash;are at stake.'</p>
+
+<p>'Say, child, what you please.'</p>
+
+<p>'I think that perhaps'&mdash;she did not dare to look at him&mdash;'if you could
+remember sometimes those dropped and forgotten evenings&mdash;those hours
+when you do not know what you have said and done&mdash;if you could only
+remember a little&mdash;we might find out more.'</p>
+
+<p>He watched her face blushing, and her eyes confused, and her voice
+stammering, and he saw that there was something behind&mdash;something that
+she hinted, but would not or could not express. He sat upright,
+suspicious and disquieted.</p>
+
+<p>'Tell me what you mean, child.'</p>
+
+<p>'I cannot&mdash;if you do not remember anything. You come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> late in the
+morning&mdash;sometimes two hours late. You think it is only ten o'clock when
+it is twelve. You do not know where you have been for the last two
+hours. Try to remember that. You were late on Saturday morning. Perhaps
+this morning. Where were you?'</p>
+
+<p>His face was quite white. He understood that something was
+going&mdash;soon&mdash;to happen.</p>
+
+<p>'I know not, Elsie&mdash;indeed&mdash;I cannot remember. Where was I?'</p>
+
+<p>'You leave here at five. You have ordered dinner, and your housekeeper
+tells me that you come home at ten or eleven. Where are you all that
+time?'</p>
+
+<p>'I am at the Club.'</p>
+
+<p>'Can you remember? Think&mdash;were you at the Club last night? George went
+there to find you, but you were not there&mdash;and you were not at home.
+Where were you?'</p>
+
+<p>He tried to speak&mdash;but he could not. He shook his head&mdash;he gasped twice.</p>
+
+<p>'You cannot remember? Oh! try&mdash;Mr. Dering&mdash;try&mdash;for the sake of
+everybody&mdash;to put an end to this miserable condition&mdash;try.'</p>
+
+<p>'I cannot remember,' he said again feebly.</p>
+
+<p>'Is it possible&mdash;just possible&mdash;that while you are away&mdash;during these
+intervals&mdash;you yourself may be actually&mdash;in the company&mdash;of this
+Socialist&mdash;this Edmund Gray?'</p>
+
+<p>'Elsie&mdash;what do you mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'I mean&mdash;can you not remember?'</p>
+
+<p>'You mean more, child! Do you know what you mean? If what you suggest is
+true, then I must be mad&mdash;mad. Do you mean it? Do you mean it? Do you
+understand what you say?'</p>
+
+<p>'Try&mdash;try to remember,' she replied. 'That is all I mean. My dear
+guardian, is there any one to whom I am more grateful than yourself? You
+have given me a fortune and my lover an income. Try&mdash;try to remember.'</p>
+
+<p>She left him without more words.</p>
+
+<p>He sat looking straight before him&mdash;the horror of the most awful thing
+that can befall a man upon him. Presently, he touched his bell, and his
+old clerk appeared.</p>
+
+<p>'Checkley,' he said, 'tell me the truth.'</p>
+
+<p>'I always do,' he replied surlily.</p>
+
+<p>'I have been suffering from fits of forgetfulness. Have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> you observed
+any impairing of the faculties? When a man's mental powers are decaying,
+he forgets things: he loses the power of work: his old skill leaves him:
+he cannot distinguish between good work and bad. He shows his mental
+decay, I believe, in physical ways&mdash;he shuffles as he walks; he stoops
+and shambles&mdash;and in his speech&mdash;he wanders and he repeats&mdash;and in his
+food and manner of eating. Have you observed any of these symptoms upon
+me, Checkley?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not one. You are as upright as a lance: you eat like five-and-twenty:
+your talk is as good and your work is as good as when you were
+forty.&mdash;Don't think such things. To be sure you do forget a bit. But not
+your work. You only forget sometimes what you did out of the office&mdash;as
+if that matters. Do you remember the case you tackled yesterday
+afternoon?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you tell me that any man&mdash;forty years younger than you&mdash;could have
+tackled that case more neatly? Garn! Go 'long!'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley went back to his office.</p>
+
+<p>'What did she mean by it, then?' Mr. Dering murmured. 'Who put her on to
+such a suspicion? What did she mean by it? Of course it's nonsense.' So
+reassuring himself, he yet remained disquieted. For he could not
+remember.</p>
+
+<p>At half-past five or so, Mr. Edmund Gray arrived at his Chambers. The
+outer door was closed, but he found his disciple waiting for him. She
+had been there an hour or more, she said. She was reading one of the
+books he had recommended to her. With the words of Mr. Dering in her
+ears, she read as if two voices were speaking to her&mdash;talking to each
+other across her.</p>
+
+<p>She laid down the book and rose to greet him. 'Master,' she said, 'I
+have come from Mr. Dering. He is your solicitor, you told me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Assuredly. He manages my affairs.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is curious&mdash;I asked him if he knew you&mdash;and he said that he knew
+nothing about you.'</p>
+
+<p>'That is curious, certainly. My solicitor for&mdash;for many years. He must
+have mistaken the name. Or&mdash;he grows old&mdash;perhaps he forgets people.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you often see him?'</p>
+
+<p>'I saw him this morning. I took him my letter to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> <i>Times</i>. He is
+narrow&mdash;very narrow, in his views. We argued the thing for a bit. But,
+really, one might as well argue with a stick as with Dering when
+Property is concerned. So he forgets, does he? Poor old chap! He
+forgets&mdash;well&mdash;we all grow old together!' He sighed. 'It is his time
+to-day and mine to-morrow.&mdash;My Scholar, let us talk.'</p>
+
+<p>The Scholar left her Master at seven. On her way out she ran against
+Checkley, who was prowling round the court. 'You!' he cried. 'You! Ah!
+I've caught you, have I? On Saturday afternoon I thought I see you going
+into No. 22. Now I've caught you coming out, have I?'</p>
+
+<p>'Checkley,' she said, 'if you are insolent, I shall have to speak to Mr.
+Dering;' and walked away.</p>
+
+<p>'There's another of 'em,' Checkley murmured, looking after her&mdash;'a
+hardened one, if ever there was. All for her lover and her brother! A
+pretty nest of 'em. And calls herself a lady!'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE LESSON OF THE STREET</h3>
+
+<p>'Child,' said the Master, 'it is time that you should take another
+lesson.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am ready. Let us begin.' She crossed her hands in her lap and looked
+up obedient.</p>
+
+<p>'Not a lesson this time from books. A practical lesson from men and
+women, boys and girls, children and infants in arms. Let us go forth and
+hear the teaching of the wrecks and the slaves. I will show you
+creatures who are men and women mutilated in body and mind&mdash;mutilated by
+the social order. Come, I will show you, not by words, but by sight, why
+Property must be destroyed.'</p>
+
+<p>It was seven o'clock, when Mr. Dering ought to have been thinking of his
+dinner, that Mr. Edmund Gray proposed this expedition. Now, since that
+other discourse on the sacredness of Property, a strange thing had
+fallen upon Elsie. Whenever her Master spoke and taught, she seemed to
+hear, following him, the other voice speaking and teaching exactly the
+opposite. Sometimes&mdash;this is absurd, but many true things are
+absurd&mdash;she seemed to hear both voices speaking together:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> yet she heard
+them distinctly and apart. Looking at Mr. Dering, she knew what he was
+saying: looking at Mr. Edmund Gray, she heard what he was saying. So
+that no sooner had these words been spoken, than, like a response in
+church, there arose the voice of Mr. Dering. And it said: 'Come. You
+shall see the wretched lives and the sufferings of those who are
+punished because their fathers or themselves have refused to work and
+save. Not to be able to get Property is the real curse of labour. It is
+no evil to work provided one chooses the work and creates for one's self
+Property. The curse is to have to work for starvation wages at what can
+never create property, if the worker should live for a thousand years.'</p>
+
+<p>Of the two voices she preferred the one which promised the abolition of
+poverty and crime. She was young: she was generous: any hope of a return
+of the Saturnian reign made her heart glow. Of the two old men&mdash;the mad
+man and the sane man&mdash;she loved the mad man. Who would not love such a
+man? Why, he knew how to make the whole world happy! Ever since the time
+of Adam we have been looking and calling out and praying for such a man.
+Every year the world runs after such a man. He promises, but he does not
+perform. The world tries his patent medicine, and is no better. Then,
+the year after, the world runs after another man.</p>
+
+<p>Elsie rose and followed the Master. It was always with a certain anxiety
+that she sat or talked with him. Always she dreaded lest, by some
+unlucky accident, he should awaken and be restored to himself suddenly
+and without warning&mdash;say in his Lecture Hall. How would he look? What
+should she say? 'See&mdash;in this place for many years past you have in
+course of madness preached the very doctrines which in hours of sanity
+you have most reprobated. These people around you are your disciples.
+You have taught them by reason and by illustration with vehemence and
+earnestness to regard the destruction of property as the one thing
+needful for the salvation of the world. What will you say now? Will you
+begin to teach the contrary? They will chase you out of the Hall for a
+madman. Will you go on with your present teaching? You will despise
+yourself for a madman.' Truly a difficult position. Habit, however, was
+too strong. There was little chance that Edmund Gray among his own
+people, and at work upon his own hobby, would become Edward Dering.</p>
+
+<p>They went out together. He led her&mdash;whither? It mattered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> not. North and
+South and East and West you may find everywhere the streets and houses
+of the very poor hidden away behind the streets of the working people
+and the well-to-do.</p>
+
+<p>The Master stopped at the entrance of one of those streets&mdash;it seemed to
+Elsie as if she was standing between two men both alike, with different
+eyes. At the corner was a public-house with swinging doors. It was
+filled with men talking, but not loudly. Now and then a woman went in or
+came out, but they were mostly men. It was a street long and narrow,
+squalid to the last degree, with small two-storied houses on either
+side. The bricks were grimy; the mortar was constantly falling out
+between them: the woodwork of doors and windows was insufferably grimy:
+many of the panes were broken in the windows. It was full of children:
+they swarmed: they ran about in the road, they danced on the pavement,
+they ran and jumped and laughed as if their lot was the happiest in the
+world and their future the brightest. Moreover, most of them, though
+their parents were steeped in poverty, looked well fed and even rosy.
+'All these children,' said Mr. Edmund Gray, 'will grow up without a
+trade: they will enter life with nothing but their hands and their legs
+and their time. That is the whole of their inheritance. They go to
+school, and they like school: but as for the things they learn, they
+will forget them, or they will have no use for them. Hewers of wood and
+drawers of water shall they be: they are condemned already. That is the
+system: we take thousands of children every year, and we condemn them to
+servitude&mdash;whatever genius may be lying among them. It is like throwing
+treasures into the sea, or burying the fruits of the earth. Waste!
+Waste! Yet, if the system is to be bolstered up, what help?'</p>
+
+<p>Said the other Voice: 'The world must have servants. These are our
+servants. If they are good at their work, they will rise and become
+upper servants. If they are good upper servants, they may rise higher.
+Their children can rise higher still, and their grandchildren may join
+us. Service is best for them. Good service, hard service, will keep them
+in health and out of temptation. To lament because they are servants is
+foolish and sentimental.'</p>
+
+<p>Standing in the doorways, sitting on the door-steps, talking together,
+were women&mdash;about four times as many women as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> there were houses. This
+was because there were as many families as rooms, and there were four
+rooms for every house. As they stood at the end of the street and looked
+down, Elsie observed that nearly every woman had a baby in her arms, and
+that there were a great many types or kinds of women. That which does
+not surprise one in a drawing-room, where every woman is expected to
+have her individual points, is noticed in a crowd, where, one thinks,
+the people should be like sheep&mdash;all alike.</p>
+
+<p>'A splendid place, this street, for such a student as you should be, my
+Scholar.' The Master looked up and down&mdash;he sniffed the air, which was
+stuffy, with peculiar satisfaction: he smiled upon the grubby houses.
+'You should come often; you should make the acquaintance of the people:
+you will find them so human, so desperately human, that you will
+presently understand that these women are your sisters. Change dresses
+with one of them: let your hair fall wild: take off your bonnet&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Shall I then be quite like them?' asked Elsie. 'Like them, Master? Oh!
+not quite like them.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not quite like them,' he said. 'No; you could never talk like them.'</p>
+
+<p>He walked about among the people, who evidently knew him, because they
+made way for him, nodded to him, and pretended, such was their
+politeness, to pay no attention to the young lady who accompanied him.</p>
+
+<p>'Every one of them is a study,' he continued. 'I could preach to you on
+every one as a text. Here is my young friend Alice Parden, for
+instance'&mdash;he stopped before a pale girl of seventeen or so, tall and
+slender, but of drooping figure, who carried a baby in her arms. 'Look
+at her. Consider. Alice is foolish, like all the Alices of this street.
+Alice must needs marry her chap a year ago, when she was sixteen and he
+was eighteen. Alice should be still at her club in the evening and her
+work in the daytime. But she must marry, and she is a child mother.&mdash;Is
+he out of work still?' Alice nodded, and hugged her baby closer. Mr.
+Edmund Gray shook his head in admonition, but gave her a coin, and went
+on. 'Now look at this good woman'&mdash;he stopped before a door where an
+Amazon was leaning&mdash;a woman five feet eight in height, with brawny arms
+and broad shoulders and a fiery furnace for a face&mdash;a most terrible and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>
+fearful woman.&mdash;'How are you this evening, Mrs. Moss? And how is your
+husband?'</p>
+
+<p>Long is the arm of coincidence. Mrs. Moss was just beginning to repose
+after a row royal; she was slowly simmering and slowly calming. There
+had been a row royal, a dispute, an argument, a quarrel, and a fight
+with her husband. All four were only just concluded. All four had been
+conducted on the pavement, for the sake of coolness and air and space.
+The residents stood around: the controversy was sharp and animated: the
+lady bore signs of its vehemence in a bruise, rapidly blackening, over
+one eye, and abrasions on her knuckles. The husband had been conducted
+by his friends from the spot to the public-house at the corner, where he
+was at present pulling himself together, and forgetting the weight of
+his consort's fists, and solacing his spirit with strong drink.</p>
+
+<p>'How is my husband?' the lady repeated. 'Oh! I'll tell you. I'll tell
+you, Mr. Gray, how my husband is. Oh! how is he? Go, look for him in the
+public-house. You shall see how he is and what he looks like.' She
+descended two steps, still retaining the advantage of the lowest. Then,
+describing a semicircle with her right arm, she began an impassioned
+harangue. The residents fled, right and left, not knowing whether in her
+wrath she might not mistake the whole of them, collectively, for her
+husband. The men in the public-house hearing her voice, trembled, and
+looked apprehensively at the door. But Mr. Gray stood before her without
+fear. He knew her better than to run away. The lady respected his
+courage, and rejoiced in a sympathetic listener. Presently she ran down:
+she paused: she gasped: she caught at her heart: she choked: she wept.
+She sat down on the doorstep, this great strong woman, with the brawny
+arms and the fiery face, and she wept. The residents crept timidly back
+again and gathered round her, murmuring sympathy: the men in the
+public-house trembled again. Mr. Gray grasped her by the hand and
+murmured a few words of consolation; for indeed there were great wrongs,
+such as few wives even in this street expect, and undeniable
+provocations. Then he led his Scholar away.</p>
+
+<p>At the next house he entered, taking Elsie with him to a room at the
+back where a woman sat making garments. She was a middle-aged woman, and
+though very poorly dressed, not in rags: the room was neat except for
+the garments lying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> about. She looked up cheerfully&mdash;her eyes were
+bright, her face was fine&mdash;and smiled. 'You here, Mr. Gray?' she said.
+'Well, I was only thinking yesterday how long it is since you came to
+see me last. I mustn't stop working, but you can talk.'</p>
+
+<p>'This is a very special friend of mine,' said the Master. 'I have known
+her for ten years, ever since I began to visit the street. She is always
+cheerful: though she has to live on sweating work and sweating pay. She
+never complains. She lives like the sparrows, and eats about as much as
+a sparrow: she is always respectable. She goes to church on Sundays: she
+is always neat in her dress. Yet she must be always hungry.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah!' said the woman, 'you'd wonder. Miss, if you knew how little a
+woman can live upon.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! but,' said Elsie, 'to have always to live on that little!'</p>
+
+<p>'She is the daughter of a man once thought well to do.'&mdash;'He was most
+respectable,' said the woman.&mdash;'He died, and left nothing but debts. The
+family were soon scattered, and&mdash;you see&mdash;this street contains some of
+those who have fallen low down as well as those who are born low down.
+It is Misfortune Lane as well as Poverty Lane. To the third and fourth
+generation, misfortune, when it begins&mdash;the reason of its beginning is
+the wickedness of one man&mdash;still persecutes and follows the family.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, Miss,' said the woman. 'And if you will come again
+sometimes&mdash;&mdash; Oh! you needn't be afraid. No one would hurt a friend of
+Mr. Gray.' So they went out.</p>
+
+<p>On the next doorstep and the next and the next, there sat women old and
+young, but all of these had the same look and almost the same
+features&mdash;they were heavy-faced, dull-eyed, thick-lipped, unwashed, and
+unbrushed. 'These,' said the Master, 'are the women who know of nothing
+better than the life they lead here. They have no hope of rising: they
+would be unhappy out of this street. They bear children: they bring them
+up, and they die. It is womanhood at its lowest. They want warmth, food,
+and drink, and that is nearly all. They are the children and
+grandchildren of women like themselves, and they are the mothers of
+women like themselves. Savage lands have no such savagery as this, for
+the worst savages have some knowledge, and these women have none.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> They
+are mutilated by our system. We have deprived them of their souls. They
+are the products of our system. In a better order these people could not
+exist: they would not be allowed parents or birth. The boy would still
+be learning his trade, and the girl would be working at hers. That
+little woman who meets her troubles with so brave a heart has been
+sweated all her life&mdash;ever since her misfortunes began: she takes it as
+part of the thing they call life: she believes that it will be made up
+to her somehow in another world. I hope it will.'</p>
+
+<p>'All these people,' said the other Voice, 'are what they are because of
+the follies and the vices of themselves and their fathers. The
+boy-husband has no trade. Whose fault is that? The rickety boy and the
+rickety girl bring into the world a rickety baby. Whose fault is that?
+Let them grow worse instead of better until they learn by sharper
+suffering that vice and folly bring their punishment.'</p>
+
+<p>'You see the children,' continued the Master, 'and the mothers. You do
+not see any old men, because this sort mostly die before they reach the
+age of sixty. Those who are past work and yet continue to live go into
+the House. The girls you do not see, because those who are not forced to
+work all the evening as well as all the day are out walking with their
+sweethearts. Nor the men, because they are mostly in the public-house.
+They are all hand-to-mouth working men: they live by the job when they
+can get any. When they are out of work, they live upon each other. We
+hide this kind of thing away in back streets like this, and we think it
+isn't dangerous. But it is. Formerly, the wreckage huddled together bred
+plagues and pestilences, which carried off rich and poor with equal
+hand, and so revenged itself. In other ways, the wreckage revenges
+itself still.'</p>
+
+<p>'This kind of people,' said the other Voice, 'may be dangerous. We have
+a Police on purpose to meet the danger. They would be quite as dangerous
+if you were to give them free dinners and house them without rent. The
+class represents the untameable element. They are always a danger. To
+cry over them is silly and useless.'</p>
+
+<p>They walked down the street. Everybody knew Mr. Edmund Gray. He had a
+word for all. It was evident that he had been a visitor in the street
+for a long time: he had the air of a proprietor: he entered the houses
+and opened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> doors and sat down and talked, his disciple standing beside
+him and looking on. He asked questions and gave advice&mdash;not of a
+subversive Socialistic kind, but sound advice, recognising the order
+that is, not the order that should be.</p>
+
+<p>All the rooms in this street were tenanted, mostly a family to each. In
+many of them work was going on still, though it was already eight
+o'clock. Sometimes it would be a woman sitting alone in her room like a
+prisoner in a cell, stitching for dear life: sometimes three or four
+women or girls sitting all together, stitching for dear life: sometimes
+a whole family, little children and all, making matches, making canvas
+bags, making paper bags, making card-boxes, all making&mdash;making&mdash;making
+for dear life. And the fingers did not stop and the eyes were not
+lifted, though the visitors opened the door and came in and asked
+questions, to which one replied in the name of all the rest.</p>
+
+<p>It is an old, old story&mdash;everybody knows the slum: people go to gaze
+upon it; it is one of the chief sights of Victorian London, just as a
+hundred and fifty years ago it was one of the sights to see the women
+flogged at Bridewell. Not such a very great advance in civilisation,
+perhaps, after all.</p>
+
+<p>'It is a hive&mdash;the place is swarming with life,' said the girl, who had
+never before seen such a street.</p>
+
+<p>'Life means Humanity. All these people are so like you, my Scholar, that
+you would be surprised. You would not be like them if you were dressed
+in these things, but they are like you. They want the same things as
+you&mdash;they have the same desires&mdash;they suffer the same pains. What makes
+your happiness? Food&mdash;warmth, sufficiency, not too much work. These are
+the elements for you as well as for them. In my system they will have
+all these&mdash;and then perhaps they will build up, as you have done, an
+edifice of Knowledge, Art, and Sweet Thoughts. But they are all like
+you. And most in one thing. For all women of all classes, there is one
+thing needful. These girls, like you, want love. They all want love. Oh,
+child! they are so like you, so very like you&mdash;these poor women of the
+lowest class. So very like their proud sisters.' He paused for a moment.
+Elsie made no reply. 'You see,' he continued, 'they are so hard at work
+that they cannot even lift their eyes to look at you&mdash;not even at you,
+though they seldom see a girl among them so lovely and so well dressed.
+One would have thought&mdash;but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> there is the Whip that drives&mdash;that
+dreadful Whip&mdash;it hangs over them and drives them all day long without
+rest or pause. Their work pays their rent and keeps them alive. It just
+keeps them alive, and that is all. No more. It must be hard to work all
+day long for another person&mdash;if you come to think of it. Happily, they
+do not think. And all this grinding poverty&mdash;this terrible work, that
+one family may be able to live in a great house and to do nothing.'</p>
+
+<p>'They are working,' said the other Voice, 'because one man has had the
+wit to create a market for their work. His thrift, his enterprise, his
+clearness of sight, have made it possible for these girls to find the
+work that keeps them. If they would have the sense not to marry
+recklessly, there would be fewer working girls, and wages would go up.
+If their employer raised their wages only a penny a day, he would
+benefit them but little and would ruin himself. They must learn&mdash;if they
+can&mdash;the lesson of forethought by their own sufferings. No one can help
+them.'</p>
+
+<p>As Mr. Edmund Gray walked into the houses and out again Elsie went with
+him, or she waited outside while he went in. Sometimes she heard the
+chink of coin: sometimes she heard words of thanks. The Socialist,
+whatever he taught, practised the elementary form of charity possible
+only for those who have money. Elsie remarked this little point, but
+said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>'What you see here,' said the Master, 'is the lowest class of all&mdash;if
+one ever gets to the lowest level. For my own part, I have seen men and
+women so wretched that you would have called them <i>miserrimi</i>&mdash;of all
+created beings the most wretched. Yet have I afterwards found others
+more wretched still. In this street are those who make the lowest
+things: those who can make nothing, and have no trade, and live on odd
+jobs: and those who can neither make nor work, but thieve and lie
+about.'</p>
+
+<p>'I see all that; but, dear Master, what will your new order do for such
+people? Will it make those who will not work industrious?'</p>
+
+<p>'It will give every producer the fruits of his own labour: it will teach
+a trade to every man, and find men work. And those who cannot work, it
+will kill, or lock up until they die. They shall have no children.
+Perhaps it will kill them all. It might be better. We will have no human
+failures in our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> midst. That street is full of lessons, all calling
+aloud for the destruction of Property.'</p>
+
+<p>Then the other Voice spoke: 'The presence of the human failure is a
+lesson always before us&mdash;a warning and a lesson to rich and poor alike.
+As he is, so all may be. None are so rich but they may be brought to
+poverty: none so poor but they may be poorer. So far from hiding away
+the wreckage, it is always in our sight. It prowls about the streets: we
+can never escape it. And it fills all hearts with terror: it spurs all
+men to industry and invention and perseverance. The human failure
+inspires a never-ending hymn in praise of Property.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie's guide stopped to greet a woman whom he knew. She had the usual
+baby on her arm. She was a sad-faced woman, with some refinement in her
+looks: she was wretchedly dressed, thin, pale, and dejected.</p>
+
+<p>'The same story?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, sir. It's always the same,' she sighed hopelessly. 'But he would
+work if he could get anything to do. Nobody will employ a man who's had
+a misfortune. It's hard&mdash;because such a thing may happen to anybody.
+It's like measles, my husband says. He can't get drunk because there's
+no money. That's my only comfort.'</p>
+
+<p>He gave her some money, and she passed on her way.</p>
+
+<p>'Her husband was a clerk,' Mr. Gray explained, 'who took to drink and
+robbed his employer. His father was a barrister, who died young. His
+grandfather was a well-known&mdash;almost a great lawyer. I know the whole
+family history. I learned it&mdash;&mdash;' He stopped for a moment, as if his
+memory suddenly failed him&mdash;'somehow&mdash;a long time ago. It is a story
+which shows how our sins and follies fall upon our own children. This
+family sprang from the gutter. First, the working man: then his son the
+shopkeeper: then his grandson, who became a great lawyer: then his
+great-grandson, not so great a lawyer. He, you see, is the first of the
+family who begins life as a gentleman and is brought up among gentlemen:
+he inherited money: he had a practice: he married in the class called
+gentle, and had children. But he lost all his money, and in despair he
+killed himself. Cousinly affection is a cold thing at best. It helped
+the widow to a pittance, and sent her boys to a cheap school. At fifteen
+they had to take whatever employment they could get.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> Observe that this
+branch of the family was now going downhill very fast. The future of a
+boy who has been taught no trade and has entered no profession is black
+indeed. One of the boys went out to New Zealand, which has little to
+give a friendless boy: another enlisted, served three years, and has
+never got any work since. I believe he carries boards about the street.
+Another became a tenth-rate actor, and now starves on fifteen shillings
+a week, paid irregularly. Another&mdash;the youngest&mdash;was put into a
+merchant's office. He rose to a hundred and twenty pounds a year: he
+married a girl of the clerkly class&mdash;that woman you saw: he took to
+drink: he embezzled his master's money: he went to prison: he is now
+hopelessly ruined. He cannot get any lower in the social scale. What
+will his children do? They have no friends. They will grow up like the
+children around them: they will join the hopeless casuals: they will be
+hewers of wood. Property, my child, Property&mdash;has done this. He stole.
+In our society nobody will be tempted to steal. He drank&mdash;with us he
+would be kept judiciously under control until he could be trusted again.
+That would be the care of the State. He is another victim of Property.
+When his grandfather was framing Acts of Parliament for the protection
+of Property, he did not dream that he was making another engine for the
+oppression of his grandchildren.'</p>
+
+<p>Said the other Voice: 'We rise by our virtues. We sink by our vices. Let
+these people suffer. Their sufferings should make the rest of us wiser.
+Teach the children to rise again as their great-grandfather rose. Do not
+contend against the great Law which metes out suffering in return for
+vice.'</p>
+
+<p>'Those,' continued the Socialist Professor, 'who do most to make a few
+men rich are the real enemies of what they suppose themselves to be
+defending. Given a thousand women sweated for one man, and there
+presently arises indignation either among the women or among the
+bystanders. From indignation we get revolution, because the employer
+never gives way. He cannot. He would lose, if he did, his wealth, which
+is his Heaven. If you divide the thousand women into companies of ten,
+each company under its own sweater, and all the sweaters under other
+sweaters, you make a hierarchy of sweaters, culminating in one at the
+top. That was the old state of things. The man at the top was a Chief,
+a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> Patriarch: he knew his people: he sweated them, but kindly: he tossed
+them crumbs: he looked after the sick and the old. Now all this is
+changing. The old family tie&mdash;such as it was&mdash;is dissolved. The man at
+the top has disappeared: a Board of Directors has taken his place: there
+is nothing left but the Board and its employees. The men who work are no
+longer interested in the business of the firm, except so far as their
+pay is concerned. Their pay will go up and the dividends will go down.
+And with every increase of wages so much Property is destroyed. Let
+every thing&mdash;everything&mdash;be turned into Companies to help the
+destruction of Property.'</p>
+
+<p>Said the other Voice: 'Property is strengthened by being diffused.
+Companies organise labour: they give capital its proper power: they are
+not easily intimidated: they interest all who can save anything. Let us
+turn into Companies every industrial and distributive business in the
+country.'</p>
+
+<p>'All times of change,' the Master went on, 'are times of interest. We
+are living at a time when great changes are impending&mdash;the greatest
+changes possible. Before great changes there is always a period of
+unconscious preparation. The minds of people are being trained. Without
+any perception of the fact, old ideas are dying out and new ones are
+coming into existence. When the Revolution actually arrives, everybody
+is ready for it and nobody is surprised. It was so with the Reformation.
+For a hundred years and more the idea of the Great Revolt had been
+slowly growing in men's minds. When it came at last, there was no
+surprise and there were few regrets. For a hundred years and more the
+ideas of the French Revolution had been talked about by philosophers:
+these ideas sank down among the people. Nobody was surprised, not even
+the nobles themselves, when the end came. So with our Revolution. It is
+coming&mdash;it is coming&mdash;its ideas are no longer timidly advanced&mdash;here and
+there&mdash;by a fanatic here or a philosopher there: they are lying in the
+hearts of the people ready to spur them into action: they are helping on
+the cause by successive steps, every one of which means nothing less
+than the abolition of Property. These things are new to you, child. You
+were only born yesterday or the day before. I was born a hundred years
+ago or thereabouts. Consider again'&mdash;he leaned against a lamp-post for
+greater ease, and discoursed as one addressing an audience&mdash;'Consider, I
+say, this great question of Companies<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> and their results. Formerly, one
+man made things which he took to market&mdash;sold or exchanged, and went
+home again. He, by himself, did everything. Then one man made and
+another man sold. The next improvement was for twenty men to work, for
+one to receive and to collect their work, and for another to sell it. In
+this way the twenty remained poor, and the two became rich. So they went
+on, and trade flourished, and the twenty producers more and more fell
+into the power of the two, who were now very rich and strong. Now the
+merchants are forming themselves into companies, and the companies are
+amalgamating with each other, and the small people may contemplate ruin.
+For these&mdash;now merchants, shopkeepers, manufacturers, workmen&mdash;there
+will be nothing but service in the companies; no possibility of
+acquiring Property, nothing but service all their lives. Now do you see
+how that helps the cause? They will become accustomed to work, but not
+for themselves: they will grow accustomed to work for a bare living and
+no more: they won't like either: but they will ask why the second should
+go with the first: the two great obstacles to Socialism will be removed.
+Then&mdash;either the step I spoke of just now&mdash;the abolition of the
+dividends&mdash;or, which is just as likely, a revolution, when the servants
+of the companies shall make the State take over all and work them for
+the good of all. Some there are who think that the workman will have
+hope and power for union crushed out of him. I think not; but if so&mdash;woe
+to the rich! The Jacquerie and the French Revolution will be spoken of
+as mild ebullitions of popular feeling compared with what will happen
+then. But I think not. I do not believe that the working man will sink
+again. He has got up so far. But he needs must climb higher.</p>
+
+<p>'You think it would be impossible'&mdash;by this time a small crowd had got
+round them, but the speaker still addressed his disciple as if no one
+else at all was listening&mdash;'for the State to take over the great
+producing and distributing companies. But it has been done already. The
+State has the Post and the Telegraph Services. They will deal with
+railways, steamers, coaches, cabs, omnibuses, trams, canals, water, gas,
+electric light, breweries, bakeries, factories, shops, just as they have
+dealt with these two. The State can take it all. The State will take the
+management of all. But, you say, the shares of the company will become
+Funds. They will, and the Funds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> will pay interest&mdash;but the interest
+will become rapidly lower and lower, so that what was once five per
+cent. is now but two and a half, and before long shall be two&mdash;one and a
+half&mdash;one&mdash;and nothing at all. There will be no cry of spoliation,
+because the holders of stock will be forced gradually into looking more
+and more to their own efforts, and because widows and sick people and
+old people, to whom the stocks were once so useful, will be all provided
+for by the State as a matter of right, and without any of the old
+humiliation of pauperdom. Pauper! Oh, heavenly word! Child, in the world
+of the future&mdash;the world which you will help to mould, we shall all be
+paupers,&mdash;every one.'</p>
+
+<p>He spoke with fine enthusiasm, his face lit up, his eyes bright. The
+girl was almost carried away, until the other Voice began coldly and
+judicially:</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing is so good for man as to be ruled and kept in discipline,
+service, and subjection. It is a foolish and a mischievous dream which
+supposes all men eager for advance. The mass of mankind asks for no
+advancement. It loves nothing and desires nothing but the gratification
+of the animal. Give it plenty of animalism and it is satisfied. That
+condition of society which keeps the mass down and provides for the rise
+of the ambitious few is the only condition which is reasonable and
+stable. Base your social order on the inertness of the mass. Make the
+workman do a good day's work: pay him enough, so that he shall have some
+of the comforts he desires: educate the clever boy and make him foreman,
+headman, manager, or artist, journalist, dramatist, novelist. Give him
+the taste for wealth. Let him have some. Then he, too, will be ready to
+fight if necessary in the army of order.'</p>
+
+<p>While the other Voice was speaking, there came slouching around the
+corner into the street where he held the fifth&mdash;perhaps the tenth part
+of a room, a really excellent specimen of the common or London thief,
+the habitual criminal. He was a young man&mdash;the habitual criminal is
+generally young, because in middle and elderly life he is doing long
+sentences&mdash;he had a furtive look, such as that with which the jackal
+sallies forth on nocturnal adventures: he had a short slight figure, a
+stooping and slouching gait, and narrow shoulders. His eyes were bright,
+but too close together: his mouth was too large and his jowl too heavy:
+his face was pale, his hair was still short, though growing rapidly: his
+hands were pendulous:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> his round hat was too big for his little head: he
+wore a long loose overcoat. His face, his figure, his look proclaimed
+aloud what he was.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped at the corner and looked at the little crowd. Everybody, for
+different reasons, is attracted by a crowd. Professionals sometimes find
+in crowds golden opportunities. This crowd, however, was already
+dispersing. The speaker had stopped. Perhaps they had heard other and
+more fervid orators on the Socialist side. Perhaps they were not in the
+least interested in the subject. You see, it is very difficult to get
+the hand-to-mouth class interested in anything except those two organs.</p>
+
+<p>'This street,' said the Master, observing him with professional
+interest, 'is full&mdash;really full&mdash;of wealth for the observer. Here is a
+case now&mdash;an instructive though a common case.' The fellow was turning
+away disappointed, perhaps, at the melting of the crowd and any little
+hope he might have based upon their pockets. 'My friend'&mdash;he heard
+himself called, and looked round suspiciously&mdash;'you would like, perhaps,
+to earn a shilling honestly, for once.'</p>
+
+<p>He turned slowly: at the sight of the coin held up before him, his sharp
+eyes darted right and left to see what chance there might be of a grab
+and a bolt. Apparently, he decided against this method of earning the
+shilling. 'What for?' he asked.</p>
+
+<p>'By answering a few questions. Where were you born?'</p>
+
+<p>'I dunno.'</p>
+
+<p>'Where were you brought up? Here?&mdash;In this street? Very well. You went
+to school with the other children: you were taught certain subjects up
+to a certain standard. What trade were you taught?'</p>
+
+<p>'I wasn't taught no trade.'</p>
+
+<p>'Your father was, I believe, a thief?'&mdash;The lad nodded&mdash;'And your
+mother, too?'&mdash;He nodded again, and grinned.&mdash;'And you yourself and your
+brothers and sisters are all in the same line, I suppose?'&mdash;He nodded
+and grinned again.&mdash;'Here is your shilling.' The fellow took it, and
+shambled away.</p>
+
+<p>'Father&mdash;mother&mdash;the whole family, live by stealing. Where there is no
+Property there can be no theft. In our world, such a creature would be
+impossible. He could not be born: such parents as his could not exist
+with us: he could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> not be developed: there would be no surroundings that
+would make such a development possible. He would be what, I believe, men
+of science call a Sport: he would be a deformity. We should put him in a
+hospital and keep him there until he died.'</p>
+
+<p>'In that world,' said the other Voice, 'there would be deformities of
+even a worse kind than this&mdash;the deformities of hypocrisy and shams. By
+a thousand shifts and lies and dishonesties the work of the world would
+be shifted on the shoulders of the weak. The strong man has always used
+his strength to make the weak man work for him, and he always will. The
+destruction of Property would be followed by the birth of Property on
+the very self-same day. There is the power of creation&mdash;of
+invention&mdash;which is also a kind of Property. Laws cannot destroy that
+power. Laws cannot make men industrious. Laws cannot make the strong man
+work for the weak. Laws cannot prevent the clever man from taking
+advantage of the stupid man. When all the failures&mdash;all the
+deformities&mdash;have been killed off, the able man will still prey upon the
+dull-witted. Better let the poor wretch live out his miserable life,
+driven from prison to prison, an example for all the world to see.'</p>
+
+<p>It was at this point that Elsie discovered the loss of her purse. Her
+pocket had been picked by one of the intelligent listeners in the crowd.
+She cried out on finding what had happened, in the unphilosophic
+surprise and indignation with which this quite common accident is always
+received.</p>
+
+<p>'Child,' said the Master, 'when there is no longer any Property, money
+will vanish: there will be no purses; even the pocket will disappear,
+because there will no longer be any use for a pocket.&mdash;Did the purse
+contain much? Suppose you had nothing to lose and nothing to gain. Think
+of the lightness of heart, the sunshine on all faces, which would
+follow. I fear you are rich, child. I have observed little signs about
+you which denote riches. Your gloves are neat and good; your dress seems
+costly. Better far if you had nothing.'</p>
+
+<p>'Master, if I were like that girl on the other side, would you like me
+better? Could I be more useful to the cause if I dressed like her?'</p>
+
+<p>The girl was of the common type&mdash;they really do seem, at first, all
+alike&mdash;who had on an ulster and a hat with a feather and broken boots.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'If I were like her,' Elsie went on, 'I should be ignorant&mdash;and obliged
+to give the whole day to work, so that I should be useless to you&mdash;and
+my manners would be rough and my language coarse. It is because I am not
+poor that I am what I am. The day for poverty is not come yet, dear
+Master.'</p>
+
+<p>'In the future, dear child, there shall be no poverty and no riches. To
+have nothing will be the common lot. To have all will be the common
+inheritance. Oh! there will be differences: men shall be as unlike then
+as now: we shall not all desire the same things. You and such as you
+will desire Art of every kind. You shall have what you desire. In our
+world, as in this, like will to like. You shall have the use for
+yourselves of pictures, of musical instruments, of everything that you
+want. The rest of the world will not want these things. If they do, more
+can be made. You shall have dainty food&mdash;the rest of the world will
+always like coarse and common fare. Think not that we shall level up or
+level down. All will be left to rise or to sink. Only they shall not
+starve, they shall not thieve, they shall not be sweated. Oh! I know
+they paint our society as attempts to make all equal. And they think
+that we expect men no longer to desire the good things in the world.
+They will desire them&mdash;they will hunger after them&mdash;but there will be
+enough for all. The man who is contented with a dinner of herbs may go
+to a Carthusian convent, which is his place, for we shall have no place
+for him in a world which recognises all good gifts and assigns to every
+man his share.'</p>
+
+<p>Then spoke the other Voice, but sadly: 'Dreams! Dreams! There are not
+enough of the good things to go round&mdash;good things would become less
+instead of more. Without the spur there is no work. Without the desire
+of creating Property, all that is worth anything in life will
+perish&mdash;all but the things that are lowest and the meanest and the
+commonest. Men will not work unless they must. By necessity alone can
+the finest work be ordered and executed. As men have been, so will men
+always be. The thing that hath been, that shall be again.'</p>
+
+<p>'You have learned some of the lessons of Poverty Lane, Scholar,' said
+the Master.&mdash;'Let us now go home.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2>
+
+<h3>'I KNOW THE MAN'</h3>
+
+<p>'Another evening of mystery, Elsie?' said Athelstan.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes. Another, and perhaps another. But we are getting to an end. I
+shall be able to tell you all to-day or to-morrow. The thing is becoming
+too great for me alone.'</p>
+
+<p>'You shall tell us when you please. Meantime, nothing new has been found
+out, I believe. Checkley still glares, George tells me. But the opinion
+of the clerks seems on the whole more favourable, he believes, than it
+was. Of that, however, he is not perhaps a good judge.'</p>
+
+<p>'They shall all be turned out,' cried Elsie. 'How dare they so much as
+to discuss&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'My sister, it is a very remarkable thing, and a thing little
+understood, but it is a true thing. People, people&mdash;clerks and <i>le
+Service</i> generally&mdash;are distinctly a branch of the great human tribe.
+They are anthropoid. Therefore, they are curious and prying and
+suspicious. They have our own faults, my dear.'</p>
+
+<p>All day Elsie felt drawn as with ropes to Mr. Dering's office. Was it
+possible that after that long evening among the lessons of Poverty Lane
+he should remember nothing? How was she to get at him&mdash;how was she to
+make him understand or believe what he had done? Could she make the sane
+man remember the actions and words of the insane man? Could she make the
+insane man do something which would absolutely identify him with the
+sane man? She could always array her witnesses: but she wanted more: she
+wanted to bring Mr. Dering himself to understand that he was Mr. Edmund
+Gray.</p>
+
+<p>She made an excuse for calling upon him. It was in the afternoon, about
+four, that she called. She found him looking aged, his face lined, his
+cheek pale, his eyes anxious.</p>
+
+<p>'This business worries me,' he said. 'Day and night it is with me. I am
+persecuted and haunted with this Edmund Gray. His tracts are put into my
+pockets; his papers into my safe: he laughs at me: he defies me to find
+him. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> they do nothing. They only accuse each other. They find
+nothing.'</p>
+
+<p>'Patience,' said Elsie softly. 'Only a few days&mdash;a day or
+two&mdash;then&mdash;with your help&mdash;we will unravel all this trouble. You shall
+lose nothing.'</p>
+
+<p>'Shall I escape this mocking devil&mdash;this Edmund Gray?'</p>
+
+<p>'I cannot promise. Perhaps.&mdash;Now, my dear guardian, I am to be married
+next Wednesday. I want you to be present at my wedding.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why not?'</p>
+
+<p>'Because things have been said about George: and because your presence
+will effectually prove that you do not believe them.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Believe them? I believe nothing. It is, however, my experience that
+there is no act, however base, that any man may not be tempted to do.'</p>
+
+<p>'Happily, it is my experience,' said the girl of twenty-one, 'that there
+is no act of baseness, however small, that certain men could possibly
+commit. You will come to my wedding, then. Athelstan will give me away.'</p>
+
+<p>'Athelstan? Yes; I remember. We found those notes, didn't we? I wonder
+who put them into the safe? Athelstan! Yes. He has been living in low
+company, I heard&mdash;Camberwell.&mdash;Rags and tatters.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' Elsie stamped impatiently. 'You will believe anything&mdash;anything,
+and you a lawyer! Athelstan is in the service of a great American
+journal.&mdash;Rags and tatters!'</p>
+
+<p>'American? Oh! yes.' Mr. Dering sat up and looked interested. 'Why, of
+course. How could I forget it? Had it been yesterday evening, I should
+have forgot. But it is four years ago. He wrote to me from somewhere in
+America. Where was it? I've got the letter. It is in the safe. Bring me
+the bottom right-hand drawer. It is there, I know.' He took the drawer
+which Elsie brought him, and turned over the papers. 'Here it is among
+the papers of that forgery. Here is the letter.' He gave it to Elsie.
+'Read it. He writes from America, you see. He was in the States four
+years ago&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;What is it?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' cried Elsie, suddenly springing from her chair&mdash;'Oh! Do you know
+what you have given me? Oh! do you know what you have told me? It is the
+secret&mdash;the secret&mdash;of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> my fortune. Oh! Athelstan gave it to
+me&mdash;Athelstan&mdash;my brother!'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering took the letter from her and glanced at the contents. 'I
+ought not to have shown you the letter,' he said. 'I have violated
+confidence. I forgot. I was thinking of the trouble&mdash;I forgot. I forget
+everything now&mdash;the things of yesterday as well as the things of to-day.
+Yes; it is true, child: your little fortune came to you from your
+brother. But it was a secret that he alone had the right to reveal.'</p>
+
+<p>'And now I know it&mdash; I know it. Oh! what shall I say to him?' The tears
+came in her eyes. 'He gave me all he had&mdash;all he had&mdash;because&mdash;oh! for
+such a simple thing&mdash;because I would not believe him to be a villain.
+Oh! my brother&mdash;my poor brother! He went back into poverty again. He
+gave me all because&mdash;oh! for such a little thing!&mdash;Mr. Dering!' She
+turned almost fiercely upon him. 'After such a letter, <i>could</i> you
+believe that man to be a villain? Could you? Tell me! After such a deed
+and such a letter!'</p>
+
+<p>'I believe nothing. My experience, however, tells me that any man,
+whoever he is, may be led to commit&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'NO! I won't have it said again.&mdash;Now, listen, Mr. Dering. These
+suspicions must cease. There must be an end. Athelstan returned six
+weeks ago&mdash;or thereabouts. That can be proved. Before that time, he was
+working in San Francisco on the journal. That can be proved. While these
+forgeries, with which he is now so freely charged, were carried on here,
+he was abroad. I don't ask you to believe or to disbelieve or to bring
+up your experience&mdash;oh! such experience&mdash;one would think you had been a
+police magistrate all your life.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, Elsie.' Mr. Dering smiled grimly. 'There was no need to sit upon
+the bench; the police magistrate does not hear so much as the family
+solicitor. My dear, prove your brother's innocence by finding out who
+did the thing. That is, after all, the only thing. It matters nothing
+what I believe&mdash;he is not proved innocent&mdash;all the world may be
+suspected of it&mdash;until the criminal is found. Remove the suspicions
+which have gathered about your lover by finding the criminal. There is
+no other way.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well, then. I will find the criminal, since no one else can.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering went on without heeding her words.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'They want to get out a warrant against Edmund Gray. I think, for my own
+part, that the man Edmund Gray has nothing to do with the business. He
+is said to be an elderly man and a respectable man&mdash;a gentleman&mdash;who has
+held his Chambers for ten years.'</p>
+
+<p>'They need not worry about a warrant,' Elsie replied. 'Tell your
+brother, Mr. Dering, that it will be perfectly useless. Meantime&mdash;I
+doubt if it is any good asking you&mdash;but&mdash;if we want your help, will you
+give me all the help you can?'</p>
+
+<p>'Assuredly. All the help I can. Why not? I am the principal person
+concerned.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are, indeed,' said Elsie gravely&mdash;'the principal person concerned.
+Very well, Mr. Dering&mdash;now I will tell you more. I know the&mdash;the
+criminal. I can put my hand upon him at any moment. It is one man who
+has done the whole, beginning with the cheque for which Athelstan was
+suspected&mdash;one man alone.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, child, what can you know about it? What can you do?'</p>
+
+<p>'You were never in love, Mr. Dering&mdash;else you would understand that a
+girl will do a great deal&mdash;oh! a great deal more than you would
+think&mdash;for her lover. It is not much to think for him and to watch for
+him&mdash;and for her brother&mdash;the brother who has stripped himself of
+everything to give his sister!' She was fain to pause, for the tears
+which rose again and choked her voice.</p>
+
+<p>'But, Elsie&mdash;what does this mean? How can you know what no one else has
+been able to find out?'</p>
+
+<p>'That is my affair, Mr. Dering. Perhaps I dreamed it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you mean that you will get back all the papers&mdash;all the
+transfers&mdash;the dividends that have been diverted&mdash;everything?'</p>
+
+<p>'Everything is safe. Everything shall be restored.&mdash;My dear guardian,
+it is a long and a sad story. I cannot tell you now. Presently,
+perhaps. Or to-morrow. I do not know how I shall be able to tell
+you. But for your property, rest easy. Everything will come back to
+you&mdash;everything&mdash;except that which cannot be stored in the vaults of the
+Bank.'</p>
+
+<p>The last words he heard not, or understood not.</p>
+
+<p>'I shall get back everything!' The eyes of the Individualist lit up and
+his pale cheek glowed&mdash;old age has still some pleasures. 'It is not
+until one loses Property that one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> finds out how precious it has become.
+Elsie, you remember what I told you, a day or two ago. Ah! I don't
+forget quite everything&mdash;a man is not the shivering naked soul only, but
+the complete figure, equipped and clothed, armed and decorated, bearing
+with him his skill, his wit, his ingenuity, his learning, his past, and
+his present, his memories and his rejoicings, his sorrows and his
+trials, his successes and his failures, and his Property&mdash;yes&mdash;his
+Property. Take away from him any of these things, and he is mutilated:
+he is not the perfect soul. Why, you tell me that my Property is coming
+back&mdash; I awake again. I feel stronger already; the shadows are flying
+before me: even the terror of that strange forgetfulness recedes: and
+the haunting of Edmund Gray. I can bear all, if I get my Property back
+again. As for this forger&mdash;this miscreant&mdash;this criminal&mdash;you will hale
+him before the judge&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;yes. We will see about the miscreant afterwards. The first thing
+is to find the man and recover your Property, and to dispel the
+suspicions resting on innocent persons. If I do the former, you must aid
+me in the latter.'</p>
+
+<p>'Assuredly. I shall not shrink from that duty.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well.&mdash;Now tell me about yourself. Sometimes it does good to talk
+about our own troubles. Tell me more about these forgetful fits. Do they
+trouble you still?' Her eyes and her voice were soft and winning. One
+must be of granite to resist such a voice and such eyes.</p>
+
+<p>'My dear'&mdash;Mr. Dering softened. 'You are good to interest yourself in an
+old man's ailments. It is Anno Domini that is the matter with me. The
+forgetful fits are only symptoms&mdash;and the disease is incurable. Ask the
+oak why the leaves are yellow.&mdash;It is the hand of winter. That is my
+complaint. First the hand of winter, then the hand of Death. Meantime,
+the voice of the grasshopper sings loud and shrill.' In presence of the
+simple things of age and death, even a hard old lawyer grows poetic.</p>
+
+<p>'Tell me the symptoms, then. Do you still forget things?'</p>
+
+<p>'Constantly. More and more. I forget everything.'</p>
+
+<p>'Where were you yesterday evening, for instance?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know. I cannot remember. I have left off even trying to
+remember. At one time I racked my brain for hours, to find out, and
+failed. Now I remember nothing. I never know when this forgetfulness may
+fall upon me. At any hour.&mdash;For instance&mdash;you ask me about yesterday
+evening.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> I ordered dinner at home. My housekeeper this morning reminded
+me that I did not get home last night till eleven. Where was I? Where
+did I spend the evening?'</p>
+
+<p>'At the Club?'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash; I took a cab this morning and drove there under pretence of asking
+for letters. I asked if I was there last night. The hall porter stared.
+But I was not there. I thought that I might have fallen asleep there. I
+have done so before. Checkley tells me that I went away before him.
+Where was I?&mdash; Child!'&mdash;he leaned forward and whispered, with white
+cheeks&mdash;'I have read of men going about with disordered brains doing
+what they afterwards forget. Am I one of these unfortunates? Do I go
+about with my wits wandering? Oh! horrible! I picture to myself an old
+man&mdash;such as myself&mdash;of unblemished reputation and blameless
+life&mdash;wandering about the streets demented&mdash;without conscience&mdash;without
+dignity&mdash;without self-respect&mdash;committing follies&mdash;things
+disgraceful&mdash;even things which bring men before the law&mdash;&mdash;' He
+shuddered. He turned pale.</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no,' murmured Elsie. 'You could not. You could never&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Such things are on record. They have happened. They may happen again. I
+have read of such cases. There was a man once&mdash;he was like myself&mdash;a
+Solicitor&mdash;who would go out and do things, not knowing what he did. They
+found him out at last doing something so incredibly foolish that there
+was but one explanation. In another man and a younger man it would have
+been worse than foolish, it would have been criminal. Then they gave him
+a companion, and he discovered what he had done. The shame and the shock
+of it killed him. I have thought of that man of late. Good Heavens!
+Think, if you can, of any worse disaster. Let me die&mdash;let me die, I say,
+rather than suffer such a fate&mdash;such an affliction. I see myself brought
+before the magistrate&mdash;me&mdash;myself&mdash;at my age, charged with this and with
+that. What defence? None, save that I did not remember.'</p>
+
+<p>'That could never be,' said Elsie confidently, because she knew the
+facts. 'If such a thing were to befall, your character would never be
+changed. You might talk and think differently, but you could never be
+otherwise than a good man. You to haunt low company? Oh! you could not
+even in a waking dream. People who dream, I am sure, always remain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>
+themselves, however strangely they may act. How could you&mdash;you&mdash;after
+such a life as yours, become a haunter of low company? One might perhaps
+suppose that Athelstan had been living among profligates because he is
+young and untried&mdash;but you?&mdash;you? Oh! no. If you had these waking
+dreams&mdash;perhaps you have them&mdash;you would become&mdash;you would become&mdash;I
+really think you would become'&mdash;she watched his face&mdash;'such&mdash;such a man
+as&mdash;as&mdash;Mr. Edmund Gray, who is so like yourself, and yet so different.'</p>
+
+<p>He started. 'Edmund Gray again? Good Heavens! It is always Edmund Gray!'</p>
+
+<p>'He is now a friend of mine. I have only known him for a week or two. He
+does not think quite as you do. But he is a good man. Since, in dreams,
+we do strange things, you might act and speak and think as Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>'I speak and think as&mdash;&mdash; But&mdash;am I dreaming? Am I forgetting again? Am
+I awake? Edmund Gray is the man whom we want to find.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have found him,' said Elsie quietly.</p>
+
+<p>'The forger&mdash;if he is the forger&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no. Do not make more mistakes. You shall have the truth in a day or
+two. Would you like to see Edmund Gray? Will you come with me to his
+Chambers? Whenever you call, you&mdash;you, I say&mdash;will find him at home.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no. I know his doctrines&mdash;futile doctrines&mdash;mischievous doctrines.
+I do not wish to meet him. What do you mean by mistakes? There are the
+letters&mdash;there are the forgeries. Are there two Edmund Grays?'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;only one. He is the man they cannot find. I will show you, if you
+like, what manner of man he is.'</p>
+
+<p>'No. I do not want to see a Socialist. I should insult him.&mdash;You are
+mysterious, Elsie. You know this man, this mischievous doctrinaire&mdash;this
+leveller&mdash;this spoliator. You tell me that he is a good man&mdash;you want me
+to see him. What, I ask, do these things mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'They mean many things, my dear guardian. Chiefly they mean that you
+shall get back your Property, and that suspicion shall be removed from
+innocent persons&mdash;and all this, I hope, before next Wednesday, when I am
+to be married. We must all be happy on my wedding day.'</p>
+
+<p>'Will&mdash;will Mr. Edmund Gray be there as well?'</p>
+
+<p>'He has promised.&mdash;And now, my dear guardian, if you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> will come round to
+Gray's Inn with me, I will show you the Chambers of Mr. Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no. Thank you, Elsie&mdash; I do not wish to make the personal
+acquaintance of a Socialist.'</p>
+
+<p>'He has Chambers on the second floor. The principal room is large and
+well furnished. It is a wainscoted room with two windows looking on the
+Square. It is not a very pretty Square, because they have not made a
+garden or laid down grass in the middle&mdash;and the houses are rather
+dingy. He sits there in the evening. He writes and meditates. Sometimes
+he teaches me, but that is a new thing. In the morning he is sometimes
+there between nine o'clock and twelve. He has an old laundress, who
+pretends to keep his rooms clean.'</p>
+
+<p>She murmured these words softly, thinking to turn his memory back and
+make him understand what had happened.</p>
+
+<p>'They are pleasant rooms, are they not?' He made no reply&mdash;his eyes
+betrayed trouble. She thought it was the trouble of struggling
+memory.&mdash;'He sits here alone and works. He thinks he is working for the
+advancement of the world. There is no one so good, I think, as Edmund
+Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>He suddenly pushed back the chair and sprang to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>'My Scholar! You speak of me?'</p>
+
+<p>It was so sudden that Elsie cried out and fell backwards in her chair.
+She had brought on the thing by her own words, by conjuring up a vision
+of the Chambers. But&mdash;the trouble was not the struggle of the memory
+getting hold of evasive facts.</p>
+
+<p>'Why, child,' he remonstrated, 'you look pale. Is it the heat? Come, it
+is cooler outside. Let us go to the Chambers in Gray's Inn. This old
+fellow&mdash;this Dering&mdash;here he sits all day long. It is Tom Tiddler's
+ground. It is paved with gold, which he picks up. The place&mdash;let us
+whisper&mdash;because he must be in the outer office&mdash;it reeks of
+Property&mdash;reeks of Property.'</p>
+
+<p>He took his hat and gloves. 'My Scholar, let us go.' By force of habit,
+he shut and locked the safe and dropped the bunch of keys in his
+pocket.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2>
+
+<h3>ATHELSTAN'S DISCOVERY</h3>
+
+<p>On the evening of that same day the same discovery was made by another
+of the persons chiefly concerned.</p>
+
+<p>You have seen that Athelstan on his return made haste to find out the
+commissionaire who had presented the forged cheque. Happily, the man
+remembered not only the circumstance itself but also his employer on
+that occasion. A generosity far above what is commonly found among those
+who employ the services of that corps endeared and preserved the memory
+of the day. He had received, in fact, half a sovereign for an
+eighteenpenny job; and the commissionaire is not like the cabby, to whom
+such windfalls are common. Not at all. With the former we observe the
+letter of the law.</p>
+
+<p>After eight years this man's memory was rewarded. This thrice blessed
+job produced yet more golden fruit. Heard one ever of a more prolific
+job?</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast, Athelstan was informed that a commissionaire desired to
+speak with him. It was his one-armed friend.</p>
+
+<p>'Beg your pardon, sir,' he said, saluting after the military
+manner&mdash;'you said I was to come and tell you, first thing, if I found
+your man for you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. I told you also that I would give you a five-pound reward
+for finding my man, as you call him. Well&mdash;I will be as good as my word
+if you have found him.'</p>
+
+<p>'I saw him yesterday. The very same old gentleman that sent me to the
+Bank that day. He's older, and he doesn't look so jolly, and he walks
+slower; but I knew him at once.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! are you quite sure? Because a resemblance, you know&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, sir, I can swear to him. I remember him as well as I remember
+anybody. He sat in the chair, and he laughed, and he said: "You've been
+quick over the job, my man. There's something extra, because you might
+have dropped the money down a grating, or run away with it, or
+something," he says. "Here's half a sovereign for you, my man," says he;
+"and I daresay you can do with it." "I can so, sir," I says,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> "and with
+as many more like them as I can pick up." Then he laughed, and I
+laughed, and we both laughed.&mdash;And that's the same man that I saw
+yesterday evening.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! this is very curious. Are you quite sure?'</p>
+
+<p>'I'd swear to him anywhere. A man can't say fairer.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;as you say&mdash;a man can hardly say fairer, can he? Now, then, when
+did you see him?'</p>
+
+<p>'It was between six and seven. I'd been doing a message for a gentleman
+in the Strand&mdash;a gentleman in the dining-room line to a gentleman in
+Holborn in the sausage and tripe line&mdash;and I was going back with a
+letter, and going through Lincoln's Inn for a short cut. Just as I was
+getting near the gate to the Fields, I saw coming out of the door at No.
+12 the very man you want to find. I wasn't thinking about him, not a
+bit&mdash; I was thinking of nothing at all, when he come out of the door and
+walked down the steps. Then I knew him. Lord! I knew him at once.
+"You're the man," I says to myself, "as give me the half-sov. instead of
+eighteenpence." Well, I stood at the corner and waited to see if he
+would remember me. Not a bit of it. He stared at me hard, but he never
+recollected me a bit&mdash;I could see that. Why should he? Nobody remembers
+the servant any more than they remember the private in the ranks. The
+very same old gentleman; but he's grown older, and he didn't look jolly
+any more. P'raps he's lost his money.'</p>
+
+<p>'Came out of No. 12, did he? Why, Dering &amp; Son's office is there. What
+does this mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'I thought I'd like to find out something more about him; and I thought
+that a five-pound note was better worth looking after than
+eighteenpence&mdash;so I let the letter from the tripe and sausage man lay a
+bit, and I followed my old gentleman at a good distance.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! you followed him. Very good. Did you find out where he lived? I can
+tell you that. He went to No. 22 South Square, Gray's Inn.'</p>
+
+<p>'No; he didn't, sir.&mdash;But you are not very far wrong. He went through
+Great Turnstile; then he crossed Holborn and turned into Featherstone
+Buildings, which is all lodging-houses. But he doesn't live there. He
+walked through the Buildings, and so into Bedford Row, and he stopped at
+a house there&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'What! In Bedford Row?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Yes; in Bedford Row&mdash;and he pulls out a latch-key and lets himself in.
+That's where he lives. No. 49 Bedford Row, on the west side, very near
+the bottom. He lives in Bedford Row.&mdash;Well, sir, I like to do things
+proper, and so, to make the job complete, I went to the <i>Salutation</i>,
+Holborn, where they keep a Directory, and I looked out his name. The
+gentleman that lives at No. 49 Bedford Row is named Edward Dering&mdash;and
+among the names of No. 12 New Square, Lincoln's Inn, is the name of
+Dering &amp; Son.&mdash;So, sir, I don't think it is too much to say that your
+man is Mr. Dering, who belongs both to Bedford Row and Lincoln's Inn.
+He's the man who sent me to the Bank eight years ago.'</p>
+
+<p>Athelstan stared at him. 'He the man?' he cried. 'You are talking
+impossibilities. He can't be the man.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nobody else, sir. If that was Mr. Dering that I saw yesterday walking
+home from New Square to Bedford Row&mdash;he's the man who sent me for the
+money.'</p>
+
+<p>To this statement the man stuck firm. Nor could he be moved by any
+assertion that his position was impossible. 'For, my friend,' said
+Athelstan, 'the man who sent you with the cheque was the man who robbed
+Mr. Dering.'</p>
+
+<p>'Can't help that, sir. If the gentleman I saw yesterday walking from
+Lincoln's Inn to Bedford Row was Mr. Dering&mdash;then he robbed hisself.'</p>
+
+<p>'That's foolishness. Oh! there must be some explanation. Look here! Mr.
+Edward Dering leaves his office every evening between six and seven. I
+will be in New Square on the west side this evening at six. You be
+there, as well. Try not to seem as if you were watching for anybody.
+Stand about at your ease.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'll make it sentry-go, sir,' said the old soldier. 'I'll walk up and
+down in front of the door same as some of our chaps got to do in front
+of shops. You trust me, sir, and I won't take no notice of you.'</p>
+
+<p>This little plot, in fact, was faithfully carried out. At six o'clock
+Athelstan began to walk up and down outside the gate which opens upon
+Lincoln's Inn Fields&mdash;the commissionaire at the same time was doing
+sentry-go in front of No. 12 in New Square. When the clock struck six
+there was a rush and a tramp of hurrying feet; these were the clerks set
+free for the day. There are not many solicitors' offices in New Square,
+and these once gone, the place becomes perfectly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> quiet. At half-past
+six there was the footfall as of one man on the stairs, and he descended
+slowly. He came out of the door presently, an old bent figure with white
+hair and shrivelled face. Paying no heed to the sentry, he walked away
+with feeble step in the direction of Chancery Lane. Checkley this was,
+on his way to look after his tenants and his property.</p>
+
+<p>Athelstan looked after him, through the gate. Then he called his old
+soldier. 'See that man?' he asked. 'That's the man who sent you to the
+Bank.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;he isn't.' The man was stout on that point. 'Not a bit like him.
+That old man's a servant, not a gentleman. See the way he holds his
+hands. Never a gentleman yet carried his hands that way. You can always
+tell 'em by their hands. The other day I met an old pal&mdash;seemed to
+forget me, he did. Wanted to make out that he'd never been in the army
+at all. So I lay by for a bit. Then I gets up&mdash;and he gets up too.
+"'Tention," says I, and he stood to 'tention like a good old Tommy
+Atkins. You watch their hands whatever they say. Always tell 'em by
+their hands. That old man he's a servant. He isn't a gentleman. He can't
+sit among the swells and order about the waiters. He hasn't learned that
+way. He'd get up himself, if you asked him, and put the napkin under his
+arm and bring you a glass of sherry wine. He's not my man. You wait a
+bit.'</p>
+
+<p>At a quarter to seven another footstep was heard echoing up and down the
+empty building. Then an old man, erect, thin, tightly buttoned, wearing
+neat gloves and carrying an umbrella, came out of the door. His face was
+hard, even austere. His walk was firm. The Sentry, as this person walked
+out of the gate, followed at a distance. When he was beside Athelstan,
+he whispered: 'That's the man. I'd swear to him anywhere. That's the man
+that sent me to the Bank.'</p>
+
+<p>Athelstan heard in unbounded astonishment. That the man? Why&mdash;it was Mr.
+Dering himself!</p>
+
+<p>'Let us follow him,' he whispered. 'Not together. On opposite sides of
+the road. Good Heavens! This is most wonderful. Do not lose sight of
+him.'</p>
+
+<p>To follow him was perfectly easy, because Mr. Dering turned neither to
+the right nor to the left, but marched straight on through Great
+Turnstile, across Holborn, through Featherstone Buildings, and into
+Bedford Row. At No. 49, his own house. Where else should he stop?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Athelstan took out his purse and gave the man the five pounds. 'I don't
+know what it means,' he said. 'I can't understand a word. But I suppose
+you have told me the truth. I don't know why you should make up a
+lie&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'It's Gauspel Truth,' said the man.</p>
+
+<p>'And therefore again&mdash;I don't understand it. Well&mdash;I've got your name
+and your number. If I want you again I will send for you.'</p>
+
+<p>The man saluted and walked away. Half a sovereign for an eighteenpenny
+job, and eight years afterwards five pounds on account of the same job.
+Robbery, was it? Robbery&mdash;and the old man pretending to rob himself. Now
+what did that mean? Laying it on to some poor harmless innocent cove,
+the soldier guessed: laying it on to some one as he had a spite
+against&mdash;the old villain&mdash;very likely this young governor&mdash;most likely&mdash;
+Donation on account of that same job, very likely&mdash;the old villain!</p>
+
+<p>As for Athelstan, he returned to Lincoln's Inn Fields, where, the
+evening being fine and the sun warm and the place quiet except for the
+children at play, he walked up and down the east or sunny side for half
+an hour turning the thing over in his mind.</p>
+
+<p>For, you see, if Mr. Dering went through the form of robbing himself and
+finding out the robbery and coldly suffering the blame to fall upon
+himself&mdash;then Mr. Dering must be one of the most phenomenally wicked of
+living men. Or, if Mr. Dering robbed himself, and did not know it&mdash;then
+Mr. Dering must be mad.</p>
+
+<p>Again, if such a thing could be done on a small scale, it might be done
+on a larger scale with the same result&mdash;namely, suspicion to fall upon a
+blameless person; obloquy to gather round his name&mdash;for in some cases
+simply to be charged is almost as fatal as to be convicted: and perfect
+impunity for himself. 'This is not my own writing, but a forgery,' said
+the man who had been robbed. Then, who is the forger? You&mdash;you. None but
+you. The bare suspicion becomes a certainty in the minds of those who
+were once that man's friends.&mdash;And his life is cankered at the outset.
+He thought of his own life; the bitterness of alienation and exile.
+Never any time for eight years when he could explain the reasons of his
+exile. Debt, the cultivation of wild oats, failure to pass
+examinations&mdash;anything would do for such a reason except<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> suspicion of
+forgery. Athelstan was a cheerful young man. He seldom allowed himself
+to be cast down by the blows of fate. Nevertheless, during his whole
+time of exile, the drop of bitterness that poisoned his cup was that he
+could not tell the whole story because the world would believe no more
+than half&mdash;that half, namely, which contained the accusation. When one
+walks about thinking, there comes a time when it seems no good to think
+any longer. The mind can only get a certain amount out of a case at one
+sitting. That amount absorbed, the best thing is to go on to something
+else. Athelstan went on to dinner. He left his sister to the care of her
+young man, and dined by himself. He took a steak at a Holborn restaurant
+with an evening paper, which he considered professionally. After dinner
+he returned to his subject. Perhaps he should get a step farther.
+No&mdash;perhaps on account of the sweet influence of dinner he got no
+farther at all. Here was an astonishing fact. How to account for it? You
+have seen&mdash;by one of two ways&mdash;malignity unspeakable: or
+madness&mdash;madness of a very curious kind&mdash;the madness of a man whose calm
+cold judgment had made him appear to his friends as one with an
+intellect far above any ordinary weaknesses of humanity. Mr. Dering mad?
+Then the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the Speaker of the House of
+Commons, the President of the Royal Society, the President of the
+Institute of Civil Engineers, the Cambridge Professors of
+Mathematics&mdash;all these men might be mad as well. And nobody to know it
+or to suspect it. Mr. Dering mad! and yet, if not, what was he?</p>
+
+<p>There was one way. He had tried it already once. He left the restaurant
+and turned eastwards. He was going to try South Square, Gray's Inn,
+again. Perhaps Mr. Edmund Gray would be in his rooms.</p>
+
+<p>He was not. The door was shut. But the opposite door stood open, that of
+Freddy Carstone. Athelstan knocked, and was admitted with eloquence
+almost tumultuous.</p>
+
+<p>'Just in time,' said the coach. 'I've got a new brand of whisky,
+straight from Glasgow. You shall sample it. Have you had dinner yet? So
+have I. Sit down. Let us talk and smoke tobacco and drink whisky and
+soda.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will do the talking and the tobacco at any rate.'</p>
+
+<p>'I love Virtue,' said Freddy. 'She is a lovely goddess&mdash;for "if Virtue
+feeble were, Heaven itself would stoop to her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> She has only one fault.
+There is reproach in her voice, reproach in her eye, and reproach in her
+attitude. She is an uncomfortable goddess. Fortunately, she dwells not
+in this venerable foundation. Do not imitate Virtue, old boy. Let me&mdash;&mdash;
+That's right. We shall then start fair upon the primrose path&mdash;the broad
+and flowery way&mdash;though I may get farther down than you. Athelstan the
+Wanderer&mdash;Melmoth the Wanderer&mdash;Childe Harold the Pilgrim&mdash;drink and be
+human.' He set the example. 'Good whisky&mdash;very good whisky. Athelstan,
+there's a poor devil up-stairs, starving for the most part&mdash;let's have
+him down. It's a charity.' He ran up-stairs, and immediately returned
+with the decayed Advocate, who looked less hungry than usual, and a
+shade less shabby&mdash;you have seen how he borrowed of Mr. Edmund Gray
+through Elsie.</p>
+
+<p>'Now,' said the host, 'I call this comfortable; a warm August evening;
+the window open; a suspicion of fresh air from the gardens; soda and
+whisky; and two men for talk. Most evenings one has to sit alone. Then
+there's a temptation to&mdash;to close the evening too quickly.'</p>
+
+<p>'Freddy, I want to hear more about your neighbour. You told me
+something, if you remember, a week or two ago.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very odd thing. Old Checkley at the <i>Salutation</i> is always pestering
+about Mr. Edmund Gray. What has he to do with Mr. Edmund Gray? Wanted me
+to answer his questions.'</p>
+
+<p>'And me,' said Mr. Langhorne. 'I did answer them.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;Mr. Edmund Gray is&mdash;&mdash; What is he? An old gentleman of cheerful
+aspect, who is apparently a Socialist. We must all be allowed our little
+weaknesses. All I ask for is&mdash;&mdash;' He reached his hand for the whisky.
+'This old gentleman carries his hobbies so far as to believe in them
+seriously. I've talked to him about them.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have heard him lecture at Camden Town,' said the Barrister. 'I go
+there sometimes on Sunday evening. They have a tea-feast with him and
+cake and toast. It is a pleasant gathering. It reminds one of the Early
+Church.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, Athelstan, what else can I tell you? Hark!' There was a step
+heard ascending the stairs. 'I believe that is the old man himself. If
+it is, you shall see him. I will bring him in.'</p>
+
+<p>He went out to meet the unknown footstep on the landing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> He greeted the
+owner of that footstep: he stopped him: he persuaded him to step into
+the opposite room. 'You must be lonely, Mr. Gray, sitting by yourself.
+Come in and have an hour's talk. Come in. This way. The room is rather
+dark. Here is Mr. Langhorne, your overhead neighbour, whom you know; and
+here is Mr. Athelstan Arundel, whom you don't know. Those who do know
+him like him, except for his Virtue, which is ostentatious in one so
+young.'</p>
+
+<p>It was now nearly nine o'clock. The lamp was not lit, and the room lay
+in twilight. It is the favourite shade for ghosts. A ghost stood before
+Athelstan, and shook hands with him&mdash;the ghost of Mr. Dering.</p>
+
+<p>'I am happy'&mdash;the ghost held out his hand&mdash;'to make your acquaintance,
+Mr. Arundel. An old man, like myself, makes acquaintances, but not
+friends. His time for new friendships is gone. Still, the world may be
+full of pleasant acquaintances.'</p>
+
+<p>He sat down, taking a chair in the window: the shade of the curtain fell
+upon his face so that nothing could be seen but a white circle.</p>
+
+<p>'Let us have candles, Freddy,' said Athelstan.</p>
+
+<p>'By all means.' Freddy lit a lamp on the table and two candles on the
+mantel-shelf. By their light the lineaments and figure of the ghost came
+out more distinctly. Athelstan gazed on it with bewilderment; his head
+went round; he closed his eyes: he tried to pull himself together.</p>
+
+<p>He sat up: he drank half a glass of whisky and soda, he stared steadily
+at the figure he had not seen for eight years, since&mdash;&mdash; Good Heavens!
+and this man had done it himself! And he was as mad as a hatter.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Edmund Gray looked serenely cheerful. He lay back in the long chair,
+his feet extended and crossed: his elbows on the arms of the chair, his
+finger-tips touching; his face was wreathed with smiles; he looked as if
+he had always found the world the best of all possible worlds.</p>
+
+<p>Athelstan heard nothing of what was said. His old friend Freddy Carstone
+was talking in his light and airy way, as if nothing at all mattered. He
+was not expected to say anything. Freddy liked to do all the talking for
+himself&mdash;therefore he sat watching a man under an illusion so
+extraordinary that it made him another man. Nothing was changed in
+him&mdash;neither features nor voice nor dress&mdash;yet he was another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> man.
+'Why,' asked Athelstan, 'why did he write that cheque for seven hundred
+and twenty pounds?'</p>
+
+<p>Presently Freddy stopped talking, and Mr. Edmund Gray took up the
+conversation. What he said&mdash;the doctrines which he advanced, we know
+already. 'And these things,' said Athelstan to himself, 'from those
+lips! Is it possible?'</p>
+
+<p>At ten o'clock Mr. Edmund Gray rose. He had to write a letter; he prayed
+to be excused. He offered his hand again to Athelstan. 'Good-night,
+sir,' he said. 'To the pleasure of seeing you again.'</p>
+
+<p>'Have we never met before, Mr. Gray?' Athelstan asked.</p>
+
+<p>'I think not. I should remember you, Mr. Arundel, I am sure,' Mr. Gray
+replied politely. 'Besides, I never forget a face. And yours is new to
+me.&mdash;Good-night, sir.'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2>
+
+<h3>CHECKLEY SEES A GHOST</h3>
+
+<p>To Checkley, watching every evening, though not always at the same time,
+sooner or later the same discovery was certain to come. It happened, in
+fact, on Friday evening, the day after Athelstan shook hands with Mr.
+Edmund Gray. On that night he left the office between six and seven,
+walked to his lodgings in Clerkenwell, made himself a cup of tea, and
+hurried back to Gray's Inn. Here he planted himself, as usual, close to
+the passage in the north-east corner of South Square, so that he could
+slip in on occasion and be effaced. Like many of the detective tribe, or
+like the ostrich, fount of many fables, he imagined himself by reason of
+this retreat entirely hidden from the observation of all. Of course the
+exact contrary was the result. The Policeman regarded him with the
+liveliest curiosity: the laundresses watched him daily: the newspaper
+vendor came every evening from the gateway to see what this ancient spy
+was doing, and why he lurked stealthily in the passage and looked out
+furtively. He was one of the little incidents or episodes which vary the
+daily routine of life in the Inn. Many of these occur every year: the
+people who come to their offices at ten and go away at five know nothing
+about them: the residents who leave at ten and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> return at six or seven
+or twelve know nothing about them. But the Service know: and they talk
+and conjecture. Here was an elderly man&mdash;nay, an old, old man,
+apparently eighty years of age. What did he want, coming night after
+night to hide himself in a passage and peer out into the Square? What,
+indeed? The Policeman, who had done duty in Hyde Park, could tell
+instructive stories from his own experience about frisky age: the
+laundresses remembered gentlemen for whom they had 'done,' and pranks
+with which those gentlemen amused themselves; but no one knew a case
+parallel to this. Why should an old man stand in the corner and secretly
+look out into the Square? He generally arrived at half-past seven, and
+he left his post at nine, when it was too dark to see across the Square.
+Then he went to the <i>Salutation</i> and enjoyed society, conversation, and
+a cheerful glass, as you have seen.</p>
+
+<p>The time he chose was unfortunate, because Mr. Edmund Gray, when he
+called at his Chambers, generally did so at half-past six or seven, on
+his way to the Hall of Science, Kentish Town. Therefore, Checkley might
+have gone on watching for a long time&mdash;say an &aelig;on&mdash;watching and waiting
+in vain. But an accident happened which rewarded him richly for all his
+trouble. It was on Friday. Elsie, provided by this time with a latch-key
+to the Chambers, arrived at Gray's Inn at six. She was going to spend
+the evening with the Master. She walked in, ascended the staircase&mdash;Mr.
+Gray had not yet arrived&mdash;opened the door, shut it behind her, and
+entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>The hand of woman was now visible in the general improvement of the
+room. The windows were clean and bright: the wainscoted walls had been
+cleaned: the ceiling whitewashed: the carpet had been swept and the
+furniture dusted: there were flowers on the table: there was an easel,
+on which stood Elsie's fancy portrait of Mr. Dering, so wonderfully like
+Mr. Gray&mdash;a speaking likeness: books lay about the table&mdash;they were all
+books on the Labour Question: on the Social Question: on the Problems of
+the Day: all the books on all the questions with which men now torture
+themselves, and think thereby to advance the coming of the Kingdom of
+Heaven. There were new curtains, dainty curtains, of lace, hanging
+before the windows: and the window-blinds themselves were clean and new.
+Elsie looked about her with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> certain satisfaction: it was her own
+doing, the work of her own hand, because the old laundress was satisfied
+to sit down and look on. 'At the least,' she said, 'the poor dear man
+has a clean room.' Then she remembered that in a day or two she would
+leave him to his old solitude, and she sighed, thinking how he clung to
+her and leaned upon her, and already looked upon her as his
+successor&mdash;'a clean room,' she said, 'when I have left him. Perhaps he
+will leave the room, too, and be all day long what he used to be.&mdash;Sane
+or mad? I love him best when he is mad.'</p>
+
+<p>The table was covered with manuscripts. These were part of the great
+work which he was about to give to the world.</p>
+
+<p>Elsie had never seen the room behind this. A guilty curiosity seized
+her. She felt like the youngest of Bluebeard's wives. She felt the
+impulse: she resisted: she gave way: she opened the door and looked in.</p>
+
+<p>She found a room nearly as large as the sitting-room. The windows were
+black with dust and soot. She opened one, and looked out upon a small
+green area outside, littered with paper and bottles and all kind of
+jetsam. The floor of the room was a couple of inches deep with dust: the
+chairs and the dressing-table were deep in dust. The bed was laid, but
+the blankets were devoured by moths: there was not a square inch left
+whole. It looked as if it had been brought in new and covered with
+sheets and blankets and so left, the room unopened, the bed untouched,
+for the ten years of Mr. Edmund Gray's tenancy.</p>
+
+<p>Between the bedroom and the sitting-room was a small dark room,
+containing a bath, a table for washing-up, knives and forks in a basket,
+teacups and saucers.</p>
+
+<p>'The pantry,' said Elsie, 'and the scullery, and the house-maid's
+closet, all together. Oh! beautiful! And to think that men live in such
+dens&mdash;and sleep there contentedly night after night in this lonely,
+ghostly old place. Horrible! 'A rattling behind the wainscoting warned
+her that ghosts can show themselves even in the daytime. She shuddered,
+and retreated to the sitting-room. Here she took a book and sat by the
+open window, heedless of the fact that she could be seen by anyone from
+the Square.</p>
+
+<p>It was seven o'clock before Mr. Edmund Gray arrived. 'Ah! child,' he
+cried tenderly, 'you are here before me. I was delayed&mdash;some business.
+What was it? Pshaw! I forget<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> everything. Never mind&mdash;I am here; and
+before we take a cab, I want you once more to go through with me the
+points of my new Catechism. Now, if you are ready.'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite ready, Master.'</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>At half-past seven Checkley arrived at his corner and took a preliminary
+survey of the Square. 'There he is,' said the Policeman. 'There he is
+again,' said two laundresses conversing on a doorstep. 'There he is as
+usual,' said the newspaper man. 'Now,' asked all in chorus, 'what's he
+want there?'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Checkley looked out from his corner, saw no one in the Square, and
+retreated into his passage. Then he looked out again, and retreated
+again. If anyone passed through the passage, Checkley was always walking
+off with great resolution in the opposite direction.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, in one of his stealthy peerings, he happened to look up. Then
+he started&mdash;he shaded his eyes: he looked his hardest. Yes, at the open
+window, freely displayed, without the least attempt at concealment, he
+saw the head and face of Miss Elsie Arundel. There! There! What more was
+necessary? Edmund Gray was Athelstan Arundel, or George Austin, or
+both&mdash;and Elsie Arundel was an accomplice after the act. There! There!
+He retreated to the seclusion of the passage and rubbed his hands. This
+would please Sir Samuel. He should hear it that very night. This ought
+to please him very much, because it made things so clear at last. There
+she was&mdash;up-stairs, in the Chambers of Mr. Edmund Gray&mdash;in the very
+room! There! There! There!</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps he was mistaken. But his sight was very good&mdash;for distant
+things. In reading a newspaper he might make mistakes, because he was
+one of those elderly persons who enjoy their newspaper most when they
+can nail it upon the wall and sit down to read it from the other side of
+a large room. He looked up again. The setting sun shining on the window
+of the side where he stood&mdash;the eastern side was reflected upon the
+windows of No. 22&mdash;Elsie's shapely head&mdash;she had taken off her hat&mdash;was
+bathed in the reflected sunshine. No doubt about her at all. There she
+was. There! There! There! The old man was fain to take a walk up Verulam
+Buildings and back again, to disguise his delight at this discovery. He
+walked chuckling and cracking his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> fingers, so that those who saw
+him&mdash;but there are not many in Raymond's Buildings on an August
+evening&mdash;thought that he must be either a little mad or a little drunk
+or a little foolish. But nobody much regards the actions of an ancient
+man. It is only the respect of his grandchildren or the thought of his
+possessions that gives him importance. Only the strong are regarded, and
+an old man who looks poor gets no credit even for foolishness and silly
+chuckles. Then Checkley went back to his corner. Oh! what was that? He
+rubbed his eyes again. He turned pale: he staggered: he caught at the
+door-posts. What was that? He shaded his eyes and looked again&mdash;bent and
+trembling and shaking all over. Said the Policeman: 'Looks as if he's
+going to get 'em again.' Said the laundresses: 'He looks as if he'd seen
+a ghost.' The newspaper boy stepped half-way across the Square. 'He's
+looking at Mr. Edmund Gray and the young lady. Jealous&mdash;p'raps&mdash;knows
+the young lady&mdash;wouldn't have believed it prob'ly.'</p>
+
+<p>Yes&mdash;Checkley was looking at that window. No doubt of that at all. He
+was not able to disguise his astonishment: he no longer pretended to
+hide himself. For he saw, sitting in the window, the young lady whom he
+believed to be an accomplice in the crime; and standing over her, with
+an expression of fatherly affection, was none other than Mr. Dering
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>Yes&mdash; Mr. Dering. Most wonderful! What did it mean? Had Mr. Dering
+resolved to clear up the mystery of Edmund Gray? Had he penetrated the
+Chambers and found there&mdash;not Edmund Gray&mdash;but Elsie Arundel?</p>
+
+<p>'My friend,' said the Policeman, standing before him so that the view of
+the window was intercepted, 'you seem interested over the way.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am. I am. Oh! yes. Much interested.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;don't you think you've looked at that old gentleman long enough?
+Perhaps he wouldn't like so much looking at. There's a young lady, too.
+It isn't manners to be staring at a young lady like a stuck pig.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no, Policeman&mdash; I've seen enough&mdash;thank you.'</p>
+
+<p>'And, still talking in a friendly way, do you think Mr. Edmund Gray over
+there would like it if he knew there was a detective or a spy watching
+every evening on the other side of the Square? What's the little game,
+guv'nor? Anything in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> our line? Not with that most respectable old
+gentleman, I do hope&mdash;though sometimes&mdash;&mdash; Well&mdash;what is it? Because we
+can't have you goin' on as you have a been goin' on, you know.'</p>
+
+<p>'Policeman'&mdash;Checkley pulled him aside and pointed to the little group
+at the window&mdash;'you see that old gentleman there&mdash;do you know him?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. Known him ever since I came to the Inn&mdash;two years ago. The
+people of the Inn have known him for ten years, I believe. That's Mr.
+Edmund Gray. He's not one of the regular residents, and he hasn't got an
+office. Comes here now and then when he fancies the place&mdash;Mr. Edmund
+Gray, that is. I wish all the gentlemen in the Inn were half as liberal
+as he is.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! it's impossible! Say it again, Policeman. Perhaps I'm a little
+deaf&mdash;I'm very old, you know&mdash;a little deaf perhaps. Say it again.'</p>
+
+<p>'What's the matter with the man?' For he was shaking violently, and his
+eyes stared. 'Of course that is Mr. Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>'What does the girl do with him? Why are they both there together?'</p>
+
+<p>'How should I know why she calls upon him? She's a young lady, and a
+sweet young thing too. He's her grandfather likely.'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley groaned.</p>
+
+<p>'I must go somewhere and think this out,' he said. 'Excuse me,
+Policeman. I am an old man, and&mdash;and&mdash; I've had a bit of a shock and&mdash;&mdash;
+Good-evening, Policeman.' He shaded his eyes again and looked up.
+Yes&mdash;there they were, talking. Then Elsie rose and he saw her putting on
+her hat. Then she retreated up the room. But still he stood watching.</p>
+
+<p>'Not had enough yet, guv'nor?' asked the Policeman.</p>
+
+<p>'Only a minute. I want to see her go out.&mdash;Yes&mdash;there they are&mdash;going
+out together. It is, after all&mdash;&mdash; Oh! there is no mistake.'</p>
+
+<p>'There is no mistake, guv'nor,' said the Policeman. 'There goes Mr.
+Edmund Gray, and there goes that sweet young thing along of him.&mdash;Ah!
+there's many advantages about being a gentleman. No mistake, I say,
+about them two.&mdash;Now, old man, you look as if you'd had a surprise.
+Hadn't you better go home and take a drop of something?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was earlier than Checkley generally went to the <i>Salutation</i>. But he
+delayed no longer. He tottered across the Square, showing very much of
+extreme feebleness, looking neither to the right nor to the left, his
+cheek white, his eyes rolling. The people looked after him, expecting
+that he would fall. But he did not. He turned into the tavern, hobbled
+along the passage, and sank into an arm-chair in the parlour.</p>
+
+<p>'Good gracious, Mr. Checkley!' cried the barmaid as he passed, 'whatever
+is the matter?'</p>
+
+<p>Some of the usual company were already assembled, although it was as yet
+hardly eight. The money-lender was there, sitting in his corner, taking
+his tobacco and his grog in silence. The decayed Barrister was there,
+his glass of old and mild before him, reading the morning newspaper. The
+ex-M.P. was there. When Checkley tumbled into the room, they looked up
+in surprise. When he gazed about him wildly and gasped, they were
+astonished, for he seemed like unto one about to have a fit.</p>
+
+<p>'Give me something, Robert&mdash;give me something,' he cried.
+'Quick&mdash;something strong. I'll have it short. Quick&mdash;quick!'</p>
+
+<p>Robert brought him a small glass of brandy, which he swallowed hastily.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' he groaned, sitting up, 'I've seen&mdash; I've seen&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'You look as if you had seen a ghost,' said the barmaid, who had come
+along with a glass of water. 'Shall I bathe your forehead?'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no. I am better now&mdash;I am all right again.&mdash;Gentlemen'&mdash;he looked
+round the room solemnly&mdash;'I've seen this evening a good man&mdash;an old
+man&mdash;a great man&mdash;a rich man; gentlemen, wrecked and cast away and
+destroyed and ruined. With a little devil of a woman to laugh at him!'</p>
+
+<p>'They don't generally laugh at the men when they are ruined,' said Mr.
+Langhorne. 'They laugh while they are ruining them. It's fun to them. So
+it is to the men. Great fun it is while it lasts. I daresay the little
+woman won't really laugh at him. In my case&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>His case was left untold, because he stopped and buried his head in his
+newspaper.</p>
+
+<p>Then Shylock spoke. He removed his pipe from his lips and spoke, moved,
+after his kind, by the mention of the words<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> wreck and ruin, just as the
+vulture pricks up its feathers at the word death.</p>
+
+<p>'To see a rich man wrecked and ruined, Mr. Checkley, is a thing which a
+man may see every day. The thing is not to lose by their wreck&mdash;to make
+money out of it. Rich men are always being wrecked and ruined. What else
+can you expect if men refuse to pay their interest and to meet their
+bills? The melancholy thing&mdash;ah! the real sadness&mdash;is the ruin of a man
+who has trusted his fellow creatures and got taken in for his pains.
+Only this morning I find that I've been let in by a swindler&mdash;a common
+swindler, gentlemen&mdash;who comes round and says he can't pay up&mdash;can't pay
+up&mdash;and I'm welcome to the sticks.&mdash;Which kind of man might your friend
+be, Mr. Checkley, the man who's trusted his neighbour and got left&mdash;or
+the neighbour who's ramped the man that trusted him?'</p>
+
+<p>'It isn't money at all,' Checkley replied.</p>
+
+<p>'Then, sir, if it isn't money,' said the money-lender, 'I don't know why
+you come in frightening this honourable company out of their wits. If it
+isn't money, how the devil can the gentleman be wrecked and ruined?'</p>
+
+<p>For two hours Mr. Checkley sat in silence, evidently not listening to
+what was said. Then he turned to Mr. Langhorne the Barrister: 'You've
+known Mr. Edmund Gray a long time, I believe?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nine years&mdash;ten years&mdash;since he came to the Inn.'</p>
+
+<p>'Always the same man, I suppose?' said Checkley. 'Never another man&mdash;not
+sometimes a young man&mdash;or two young men&mdash;one rather a tall young man,
+looks as if the world was all his&mdash;supercilious beast?'</p>
+
+<p>'Never more than one man at once,' replied the Barrister with a show of
+forensic keenness. 'He might have been two young men rolled into one;
+but not to my knowledge: always the same man to look at, so far as I
+know&mdash;and the same man to talk with.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! yes&mdash;yes. There's no hope left&mdash;none. He's ruined and lost and cast
+away and done for.'</p>
+
+<p>He rose and walked out. The company looked after him and shook their
+heads. Then they drew their chairs a little closer, and the gap made by
+his departure vanished.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DAY AFTER THE GHOST</h3>
+
+<p>When Mr. Dering arrived at his office next morning he observed that his
+table had not been arranged for him. Imagine the surprise of the
+housewife should she come down to breakfast and find the ham and the
+toast and the tea placed upon the table without the decent cloth! With
+such eyes did Mr. Dering gaze upon the pile of yesterday's letters lying
+upon his blotting-pad, the pens in disorder, the papers heaped about
+anyhow, the dust of yesterday everywhere. Such a thing had never
+happened before in his whole experience of fifty-five years. He touched
+his bell sharply.</p>
+
+<p>'Why,' he asked, hanging up his coat without turning round, 'why is not
+my table put in order?' He turned and saw his clerk standing at the open
+door.&mdash;'Good Heavens! Checkley, what is the matter?'</p>
+
+<p>For the ancient servitor stood with drooping head and melancholy face
+and bent shoulders. His hands hung down in the attitude of one who waits
+to serve. But he did not serve. He stood still and he made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>He understood now. Since the apparition of South Square he had had time
+to reflect. He now understood the whole business from the beginning to
+the end. One hand there was, and only one, concerned with the case. Now
+he understood the meaning of the frequent fits of abstraction, the long
+silences, this strange forgetfulness which made his master mix up days
+and hours, and caused him to wonder what he had done and where he had
+been on this and that evening. And somebody else knew. The girl knew.
+She had told her lover. She had told her brother. That was why the new
+Partner laughed and defied them. It was on his charge that young Arundel
+had been forced to leave the country. It was he who declared that he had
+seen him place the stolen notes in the safe. It was he who had charged
+young Austin and whispered suspicions into the mind of Sir Samuel. Now
+the truth would come out, and they would all turn upon him, and his
+master would have to be told. Who would tell him? How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> could they tell
+him? Yet he must be told. And what would be done to the jealous servant?
+And how could the old lawyer, with such a knowledge about himself,
+continue to work at his office? All was finished. He would be sent about
+his business. His master would go home and stay there&mdash;with an
+attendant. How could he continue to live without his work to do? What
+would he do all day? With whom would he talk? Everything finished and
+done with. Everything&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>He stood, therefore, stricken dumb, humble, waiting for reproof.</p>
+
+<p>'Are you ill, Checkley? asked Mr. Dering. 'You look ill. What is the
+matter?</p>
+
+<p>'I am not ill,' he replied in a hollow voice, with a dismal shake of the
+head. 'I am not exactly ill. Yes, I am ill. I tried to put your table in
+order for you this morning, but I couldn't, I really couldn't. I feel as
+if I couldn't never do anything for you&mdash;never again. After sixty years'
+service, it's hard to feel like that.'</p>
+
+<p>He moved to the table and began mechanically laying the papers straight.</p>
+
+<p>'No one has touched your table but me for sixty years. It's hard to
+think that another hand will do this for you&mdash;and do it quite as well,
+you'll think. That's what we get for faithful service.' He put the
+papers all wrong, because his old eyes were dimmed with unaccustomed
+moisture. Checkley had long since ceased to weep over the sorrows of
+others, even in the most moving situations, when, for instance, he
+himself carried off the sticks instead of the rent. But no man is so old
+that he cannot weep over his own misfortunes. Checkley's eye was
+therefore dimmed with the tear of Compassion, which is the sister of
+Charity.</p>
+
+<p>'I do not understand you this morning, Checkley. Have you had any
+unpleasantness with Mr. Austin&mdash;with any of the people?'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no. Only that I had better go before I am turned out. That's all.
+That's all'&mdash;he repeated the words in despair. 'Nothing but that.'</p>
+
+<p>'Who is going to turn you out? What do you mean, Checkley? What the
+devil do you mean by going on like this? Am I not master here? Who can
+turn you out?'</p>
+
+<p>'You can, sir, and you will&mdash;and I'd rather, if you'll excuse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> the
+liberty, go out of my own accord. I'm a small man&mdash;only a very small
+man&mdash;but, thank God! I've got enough to give me a crust of bread and
+cheese to live upon.'</p>
+
+<p>'I tell you what, Checkley: you had better go home and lie down and rest
+a little. You are upset. Now, at our age we can't afford to be upset. Go
+home, and be easy. Old friends don't part quite so easily as you think.'
+Mr. Dering spoke kindly and gently. One must be patient with so old a
+servant.</p>
+
+<p>Checkley sobbed and choked. Like a child he sobbed. Like a child of
+four, Checkley choked and sniffed. 'You don't understand,' he said. 'Oh,
+no&mdash;you can't understand. It's what I saw last night.'</p>
+
+<p>'This is very wonderful. What did you see? A ghost?'</p>
+
+<p>'Worse than a ghost&mdash;who cares for a ghost? Ghosts can't turn a man out
+of his place and bring him to be a laughingstock. No&mdash;no. It was a man
+that I saw, not a ghost.'</p>
+
+<p>'If you can find it possible to talk reasonably'&mdash;Mr. Dering took his
+chair and tore open an envelope&mdash;'when you can find it possible to talk
+reasonably, I will listen. Meantime, I really think that you had better
+go home and lie down for an hour or two. Your nerves are shaken; you
+hardly know what you are saying.'</p>
+
+<p>'I was in Gray's Inn yesterday evening. By accident, at eight.' He spoke
+in gasps, watching his master curiously. 'By accident&mdash;not spying.
+No&mdash;by accident. On my way to my club&mdash;at the <i>Salutation</i>. Walking
+through South Square. Not thinking of anything. Looking about
+me&mdash;careless-like.'</p>
+
+<p>'South Square, Gray's Inn. That is the place where the man Edmund Gray
+lives: the man we want to find and cannot find.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Lord! Lord!' exclaimed the clerk. 'Is it possible?' He lifted his
+hand and raised his eyes to heaven and groaned. Then he resumed his
+narrative.</p>
+
+<p>'Coming through the passage, I looked up to the windows of No. 22&mdash;Mr.
+Edmund Gray's Chambers, you know.'</p>
+
+<p>'I believe so.' Mr. Dering's face betrayed no emotion at all. 'Go on; I
+am told so.'</p>
+
+<p>'In the window I saw Mr. Edmund Gray himself&mdash;himself.'</p>
+
+<p>'Curious. You have seen him&mdash;but why not?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'The man we've all been so anxious to find. The man who endorsed the
+cheque and wrote the letters and got the papers&mdash;there he was!'</p>
+
+<p>'Question of identity. How did you know him, since you had never seen
+him before?'</p>
+
+<p>This question Checkley shirked.</p>
+
+<p>'He came down-stairs five minutes afterwards, while I was still looking
+up at the windows. Came down-stairs, and walked out of the Square&mdash;made
+as if he was going out by way of Raymond's Buildings&mdash;much as if he
+might be going to Bedford Row.'</p>
+
+<p>'These details are unimportant. Again&mdash;how did you know him?'</p>
+
+<p>'I asked the Policeman who the gentleman was. He said it was Mr. Edmund
+Gray. I asked the newspaper boy at the Holborn entrance. He said it was
+Mr. Edmund Gray, and that everybody knew him.'</p>
+
+<p>'So everybody knows him. Well, Checkley, I see nothing so very
+remarkable about your seeing a man so well known in the Inn. It adds
+nothing to our knowledge. That he exists, we know already. What share,
+if any, he has had in this case of ours remains still a mystery. Unless,
+that is, you have found out something else.'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley gazed upon his master with a kind of stupor. 'No&mdash;no,' he
+murmured. 'I can't.'</p>
+
+<p>'What did you do, when you found out that it was the man?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing.'</p>
+
+<p>'You did nothing. Well&mdash;under the circumstances I don't know what you
+could have done.'</p>
+
+<p>'And he walked away.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! He walked away. Very important indeed.&mdash;But, Checkley, this story
+does not in the least account for your strange agitation this morning.
+Have you anything more to tell me? I see that you have, but you seem to
+experience more than usual difficulty in getting it out.'</p>
+
+<p>The clerk hesitated. 'Do you,' he asked at last&mdash;'do you&mdash;happen&mdash;to
+know Gray's Inn?'</p>
+
+<p>'I daresay I have been there&mdash;years ago. Why?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! you haven't been there lately, have you?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not lately&mdash;not for forty years, or some such inconsiderable period.
+Why?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'I thought you might yourself have met Mr. Edmund Gray&mdash;been to his
+Chambers, perhaps.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering sat upright and laid his hand upon his letters. 'Checkley,'
+he said, 'I am always willing to make allowance for people in mental
+distress, but I think I have made allowance enough. Come to the point.
+Have you lost any money?'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no; not so bad as that&mdash;but bad enough. No, I couldn't afford to
+lose money. I haven't got enough to spare any. But I got a shock&mdash;a kind
+of stroke&mdash;partly because of the man I met, and partly because of the
+person with him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! who was that? Are we arriving at something?'</p>
+
+<p>'I hadn't told you that. The person who was sitting at the open window
+with him, who came down-stairs with him, and walked out of the Square
+with him, was no other than your own ward, Miss Elsie Arundel herself!'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! why not?' asked Mr. Dering carelessly. 'She told me yesterday, was
+it? that she knows him.'</p>
+
+<p>'If it had been anyone else she was with,' he replied, mixing up his
+grammar&mdash;'if it had been anyone else who was with her&mdash;I wouldn't have
+been surprised! But to see the two together. That gave me a turn that I
+can't get over.'</p>
+
+<p>'Still&mdash;why not? Miss Elsie Arundel has already told me that she is
+acquainted with Mr. Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>'What? She has told you&mdash;she has actually told you? Oh! what has she
+told you? Oh! Lord! Lord! What is a man to say or to do? She told
+you&mdash;what is best to do?' He wrung his hands in his distress and his
+perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>'I cannot understand, Checkley,' said Mr. Dering with emphasis, 'the
+reason for this display of excitement. Why should she not tell me or
+anybody else? Do you suppose that my ward is doing anything clandestine?
+She has told me that she is acquainted with this man. She asserts
+further&mdash;that we have made a great mistake about him. What she means, I
+cannot understand. She says, in fact, that this gentleman is a perfectly
+honourable person. It is possible that he has deceived her. It is also
+possible that the name of Edmund Gray has been wrongfully used in the
+papers which belong to the case. Certainly it was an Edmund Gray who
+endorsed the first cheque; and an Edmund Gray having an address at 22
+South Square whose name is connected with the later business. Well, we
+shall see presently.&mdash;When do you take out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> the warrant for the arrest
+of this man? By the way, Elsie Arundel implores me not to allow that
+step. When are you going to do it?'</p>
+
+<p>'This morning, I was going to do it. Everything is ready&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'But what?'</p>
+
+<p>'I can't do it now.'</p>
+
+<p>'The man is clean gone off his head.'</p>
+
+<p>'Leave it till to-morrow&mdash;only to-morrow, or Monday. Before then,
+something is certain to turn up. Oh! certain sure it is. Something must
+turn up.'</p>
+
+<p>'There is certainly something that you are keeping behind, Checkley.
+Well&mdash;wait till Monday. To-day is Saturday. He can't do very much
+mischief between this and Monday.&mdash;That's enough about Edmund Gray. Now,
+here is another point, to which I want a direct answer from you. My
+brother asserts, I believe on your authority, that Athelstan Arundel has
+been living in a low and profligate manner in some London suburb, and
+that he was in rags and poverty early this year. What is your authority
+for this?'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, I heard him confess&mdash;or not deny&mdash;that he'd been living in
+Camberwell in bad company. It was at the <i>Salutation</i> I heard it. He
+didn't see me. I'd got my head behind a paper. He never denied it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Humph!&mdash;And about the rags?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know anything about the rags.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very likely there is as much foundation for the one charge as for the
+other. Three or four years ago, he was in America, to my knowledge. He
+wrote to me from America. I now learn, on the authority of his sister,
+that he only came back a month ago, and that he has been and is still in
+the service of an American paper. What have you got to say to that?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing. I don't feel as if I could say anything. It's all turned upsy
+down. That won't do, I suppose, no more than the rest.'</p>
+
+<p>'But, my friend, if that is true, your theory of conspiracy and
+confederacy, which you took so much pains to build up, falls to the
+ground as far as Athelstan is concerned.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes.&mdash; Oh! I haven't nothing to say.' It was a mark of the trouble
+which possessed him that his language reverted to that of his young
+days, before he had learned the art of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> correct speech from the copying
+of legal documents. He preserved the same attitude with bent head and
+hanging hands, a sad and pitiful object.</p>
+
+<p>'Since Athelstan was not in London during the months of March and April,
+he could have had no hand in the later forgeries. And it is acknowledged
+that the same hand was concerned both in the earlier and the later
+business.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;the same hand. Oh! yes&mdash;the same hand,' he repeated with
+pathos unintelligible to his master. 'The same hand&mdash;the same hand;
+yes&mdash;yes&mdash;the same hand&mdash;that's the devil of it&mdash;same hand done it all.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then what becomes of your charge against my young Partner? You were
+extremely fierce about it. So was my brother. You had no proofs&mdash;nor had
+he. If the same hand was in both forgeries, it could not have been the
+hand of George Austin. What do you say to that?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing. I'm never going'&mdash;still standing hands hanging&mdash;'to say
+anything again as long as I live.'</p>
+
+<p>'But you were very fierce about it, Checkley. You must either find more
+proofs or withdraw your accusation.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! if that's all, I withdraw&mdash; I withdraw everything.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why did you bring that charge then, Checkley? You've been making
+yourself very busy over the character of my Partner. You have permitted
+yourself to say things in the office before the clerks about him. If it
+turns out that he has had nothing to do with the business, you will be
+in a very serious position.'</p>
+
+<p>'I withdraw&mdash; I withdraw everything,' the old clerk replied, but not
+meekly. He was prepared to withdraw, but only because he was forced.</p>
+
+<p>'Remember, too, that it was you who brought the charge against young
+Arundel.'</p>
+
+<p>'I withdraw&mdash; I withdraw everything.'</p>
+
+<p>'You went so far as to remember&mdash;the other day&mdash;having seen him replace
+the notes in the safe. What do you say to that?'</p>
+
+<p>'I withdraw.'</p>
+
+<p>'But it was a direct statement&mdash;the testimony of an eyewitness. Was it
+true or not?&mdash;I don't know you this morning, Checkley. First, you appear
+shaking and trembling: then you tell me things which seem in no way to
+warrant so much agitation. Next, you withdraw an accusation which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> ought
+never to have been made except with the strongest proof. And now you
+wish to withdraw an alleged fact.'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley shook his head helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>'I acknowledge that the business remains as mysterious as before.
+Nothing has been found out. But there remains an evident and savage
+animosity on your part towards two young gentlemen in succession. Why?
+What have they done to you?'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley made reply in bold words, but still standing with hanging
+hands: 'I withdraw the animosity. I withdraw everything. As for young
+Arundel, he was a supercilious beast. We were dirt beneath his feet. The
+whole earth belonged to him. He used to imitate my ways of speaking, and
+he used to make the clerks laugh at me. I hated him then. I hate him
+still. It was fun to him that an old man, nigh seventy, with no
+education, shouldn't speak like a young gentleman of Oxford and
+Cambridge College. He used to stick his hat on the back of his head as
+if it was a crown, and he'd slam the door after him as if he was a
+Partner. I hated him. I was never so glad as when he ran away in a rage.
+He was coming between you and me, too.&mdash;Oh! I saw it. Cunning he was.
+Laying his lines for to come between you and me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why&mdash;you were jealous, Checkley.'</p>
+
+<p>'I was glad when he ran away. And I always thought he'd done it, too. As
+for seeing him put the cheque back in the safe, I perceive now that I
+never did see him do it. Yet I seemed to think at the time that I'd
+remembered seeing him do a kind of a sort of a something like it. I now
+perceive that I was wrong. He never done it. He hadn't the wits to
+contrive it. That sort is never half sharp. Too fine gentleman for such
+a trick.&mdash;Oh! I know what you are going to say next. How about the
+second young fellow? I hate him too. I hate him because he's the same
+supercilious beast as the other, and because he's been able to get round
+you. He's carneyed you&mdash;no fool like an old fool&mdash;and flattered
+you&mdash;till you've made him a Partner. I've worked for you heart and soul
+for sixty years and more, and this boy comes in and cuts me out in a
+twelvemonth.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well! but Checkley&mdash;hang it!&mdash;I couldn't make you a Partner.'</p>
+
+<p>'You didn't want no Partners. You could do your work,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> and I could do
+mine and yours too, even if you did want to go asleep of an afternoon.'</p>
+
+<p>'This is grave, however. You hated Mr. Austin, and therefore you bring
+against him this foul charge. This is very grave, Checkley.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash; I thought he was guilty. I did, indeed. Everything pointed that
+way. And I don't understand about young Arundel, because he came into
+the <i>Salutation</i> with the Cambridge gentleman who gets drunk there every
+night, and he said that he lived at Camberwell for eight years with bad
+company as I wouldn't name to you, sir. I thought he was guilty. I did,
+indeed.'</p>
+
+<p>'And now?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! now it is all over. Everything's upsy down. Nobody's guilty. I know
+now that he hasn't had anything to do with it. He's a young man of very
+slow intelligence and inferior parts. He couldn't have had anything to
+do with it. We ought to have known that.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;but who has done it, after all?'</p>
+
+<p>'That's it.' Checkley was so troubled that he dropped into a chair in
+the presence of his master. 'That's it. Who's done it? Don't you know
+who done it? No&mdash; I see you don't so much as suspect. No more don't I.
+Else&mdash;what to do&mdash;what to say&mdash;Lord only knows!' He turned and ran&mdash;he
+scuttled out of the room, banging the door behind him.</p>
+
+<p>'He's mad,' said Mr. Dering. 'Poor man! Age makes some men forgetful,
+but it has driven Checkley mad.'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE THREE ACCOMPLICES</h3>
+
+<p>On that same evening the three accomplices&mdash;probably on the proceeds of
+their iniquities&mdash;were dining together at the <i>Savoy</i>. After dinner they
+sat on the verandah overlooking the river and the embankment. 'Tis
+sweet, what time the evening shades prevail, while one is still in the
+stage of physical comfort and mental peace attendant upon an artistic
+little banquet, to view from the serene heights of a balcony at that
+hotel the unquiet figures of those who flit backwards<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> and forwards
+below. They&mdash;alas!&mdash;have not dined so well, or they could not walk so
+fast, or drag their limbs so hopelessly, or lean over the wall so sadly.</p>
+
+<p>Elsie leaned her head upon her hands, looking down upon this scene,
+though not quite with these thoughts. Young ladies who are quite happy,
+and are going to be married next week, do not make these comparisons.
+Happiness is selfish. When one is quite happy, everybody else seems
+quite happy too&mdash;even Lazarus and the leper. We must never be happy if
+we do not wish to be selfish.</p>
+
+<p>Coffee was on the table. Athelstan had a cigar. They were all three
+silent. During dinner they had talked gaily, because everybody knows
+that you cannot talk with strange people listening. After dinner they
+sat in silence, because it is only when the waiters are gone that one is
+free to talk.</p>
+
+<p>'Elsie,' said George presently, 'you have something to tell
+us&mdash;something you have discovered. For my own part, since I handed the
+case over to anybody else, I feel as if I were not interested in it. But
+still, one would like to know&mdash;just for curiosity's sake&mdash;when Checkley
+is to be "run in."'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' said Elsie, 'I must tell you. Perhaps I ought to have told you
+before. Yet there was a reason. Now&mdash;you will be greatly astonished,
+George.'</p>
+
+<p>'Before you begin, Elsie '&mdash;Athelstan removed his cigar&mdash;'I must tell
+you that yesterday evening I, too, made a discovery&mdash;what the Americans
+call a pivotal discovery&mdash;a discovery that discovers everything. I
+should have told you last night, but you announced your communications
+for this evening, and I thought we would expose our discoveries at the
+same time.'</p>
+
+<p>'You have found out too!' Elsie cried. 'I see by your face that you
+have. Well, Athelstan, so much the better. Now, tell your discovery
+first, and I will follow.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is this. I have discovered Edmund Gray. I have sat with him and
+discoursed with him, in Freddy Carstone's Chambers. He came in, sat
+beside me, and conversed for more than an hour.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' said Elsie. 'Then you know all&mdash;as much as I know.'</p>
+
+<p>'Observe,' George interposed, 'that I know nothing as yet.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wait a moment, George. Learn that I have myself known Mr. Edmund Gray
+for a fortnight. You will think,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> perhaps, that I ought to have told you
+before. Well&mdash;but there is a reason&mdash;besides, the way, to begin with,
+did not lie quite clear before me. Now the time has come when you should
+advise as to the best course to follow.'</p>
+
+<p>'You have certainly been more mysterious than any oracle, Elsie. Yet you
+will bear witness, if it comes to bearing witness, that I accepted your
+utterances and believed in them.'</p>
+
+<p>'You certainly did, George.&mdash;And now, Athelstan, tell him the whole.'</p>
+
+<p>'In one word then&mdash;Edmund Gray, the man we have been looking after so
+long, is none other than Edward Dering, of 12 New Square, Lincoln's Inn,
+Solicitor.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't understand,' said George, bewildered. 'Say it all again.'</p>
+
+<p>Athelstan repeated his words.</p>
+
+<p>'That is my discovery, too,' said Elsie. 'Now you know all, as you
+understand.'</p>
+
+<p>'But I don't understand. How can one man be another man?'</p>
+
+<p>'I sat beside one man,' Athelstan added, 'for an hour and more; and lo!
+all the time he was another man.'</p>
+
+<p>'And still I am fogged. What does it mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'It means, George, what you would never suspect. The one man received me
+as a stranger. He knew nothing about me: he had never heard my name,
+even. Yet the other man knows me so well. It was very odd at first. I
+felt as if I was talking to a sleep-walker.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' cried George, 'I know now. You have seen Mr. Dering in a kind of
+sleep-walking state&mdash; I too have seen him thus. But he said nothing.'</p>
+
+<p>'You may call it sleep-walking if you like. But, George, there is
+another and a more scientific name for it. The old man is mad. He has
+fits of madness, during which he plays another part, under another name.
+Now, do you understand?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;but&mdash;is it possible?'</p>
+
+<p>'It is more than possible; it is an actual certainty. Wait. Let Elsie
+tell her story.'</p>
+
+<p>Then Elsie began, with a little air of triumph, because it is not given
+to every young lady to find out what all the men have failed to find.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;you see&mdash;I was always thinking over this business, and wondering
+why nothing was found out about it, and watching you look this way and
+that, and it occurred to me that the first thing of all was to find out
+this Mr. Edmund Gray and lay hands upon him. At first I thought I would
+just go and stand outside his door all day long and every day until he
+came. But that seemed a waste of time. So I remembered how you found his
+door open, and went in and spoke to the laundress. I thought that I
+would do the same thing, and sit down there and wait until he should
+come. But I was afraid to sit in the rooms of a strange man all
+alone&mdash;no, I could not do it. So I just found out the old woman&mdash;the
+laundress&mdash;as you did, George, and I gave her money, and she told me
+that Mr. Gray was at his Chambers almost every Saturday afternoon. Very
+well; if anybody chose to wait for him all Saturday afternoon, he would
+certainly be found. So on Saturday afternoon I took a cab and drove to
+Holborn, and got to the place before his arrival. But again, as it was
+not quite nice to stand at an open doorway in a public Square, I thought
+I would wait on the stairs. So I mounted&mdash;the doors were all
+closed&mdash;nobody was left in the place at all&mdash;I thought I should be
+perfectly safe and undisturbed, when I heard the noise of footsteps
+overhead&mdash;a tramp, tramp, tramp up and down, with every now and then a
+groan&mdash;like a hungry creature in a cage. This kept on for a long time,
+and frightened me horribly. I was still more frightened when a door
+overhead opened and shut and the footsteps came down-stairs. They
+belonged to a man&mdash;an elderly man&mdash;who seemed as much frightened at
+seeing me as I was at seeing him. He asked me whether I wanted any one;
+and when I said I wanted Mr. Edmund Gray, he said that he was a friend
+of Mr. Gray's, and that, since I was a friend too, I might act for
+Edmund Gray and lend him some money. He looked desperately poor and
+horribly hungry and thin and shabby, the poor old man!'</p>
+
+<p>'So you acted for Edmund Gray. That was old Langhorne. He is a
+barrister, who lives in the garret, and is horribly down on his
+luck.&mdash;Go on.'</p>
+
+<p>'Poor Elsie!' said George. 'Think of her, all alone on the staircase!'</p>
+
+<p>'When he was gone, there was no sound at all. The place was perfectly
+quiet. The time passed so slowly&mdash;oh! so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> slowly. At last, however, I
+heard a step. It came up the stairs. Oh! my heart began to beat. Suppose
+it should be Mr. Edmund Gray. Suppose it was some other person. Suppose
+it was some horror of a man! But I had not long to wait, because Mr.
+Edmund Gray himself stood on the landing. He stared at me, rather
+surprised to find a young lady on the stairs, but he showed no sign of
+recognition whatever. I was a complete stranger to him.'</p>
+
+<p>'And was the man Mr. Dering?'</p>
+
+<p>'He was&mdash;Mr. Dering. There was just the least little change in him. He
+wore his coat open instead of buttoned. He had no gloves, his hat was
+not pulled over his eyes, and his face was somehow lighter and brighter
+than usual.'</p>
+
+<p>'That is so,' said Athelstan. 'Exactly with these little changes he
+presented himself to me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps there is another man in the world exactly like him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Futile remark!&mdash;Go on, Elsie.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then I guessed in a moment what it meant. I stepped forward and asked
+him if he was Mr. Edmund Gray. And then I followed him into his
+rooms.&mdash;George, there is no manner of doubt whatever. Mr. Dering has
+periods, whether regular or not I cannot tell, when he loses himself and
+becomes in imagination another man. He is mad, if you like, but there is
+method in his madness. The other man is just himself turned inside out.
+Mr. Dering believes in the possible wickedness of everybody: the other
+man believes in the actual goodness of every man. Mr. Dering considers
+Property the only stable foundation of Society: the other man considers
+Property the root of all evil. Mr. Dering is hard and jealous: the other
+man is full of geniality and benevolence. Mr. Dering is Justice: the
+other man is Mercy.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very neatly put, Elsie. There is quite an eighteenth-century balance
+about your sentences and sentiments. So far'&mdash;Athelstan contributed his
+confirmation&mdash;'so far as I could judge, nothing could be more true. I
+found my man the exact opposite of himself.'</p>
+
+<p>'Can such a thing be possible? If I were to speak to him, would he not
+know me?'</p>
+
+<p>'You forget, George. You have seen him in that condition, and he did not
+know you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing is more common'&mdash;Athelstan the Journalist<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> began to draw upon
+the encyclop&aelig;dic memory which belongs to his profession&mdash;'than such a
+forgetfulness of self. Have you ever been into a Lunatic Asylum? I
+have&mdash;for professional purposes. I have discoursed with the patients,
+and been instructed by the physicians. Half the time many of the
+patients are perfectly rational: during the other half they seem to
+assume another mind with other memories. It is not real possession, as
+the ancients called it, because they never show knowledge other than
+what they have learned before. Thus, a sane man who cannot draw would
+never in insanity become an artist. So Mr. Dering, when he is mad,
+brings the same logical power and skill to bear upon a different set of
+maxims and opinions. Said a physician to me at this asylum of which I
+speak: "There are thousands of men and women, but especially men, who
+are mad every now and then, and don't know it. Most of the crimes are, I
+believe, committed in moments of madness. A young fellow steals
+money&mdash;it is because at the moment he is so mad that he even persuades
+himself that borrowing is not stealing: that he is only borrowing: that
+he can get it back, and put it back before it is found out. What is
+uncontrollable rage but sudden madness? There are the men who know that
+they are mad on some point or other, and cunningly hide it, and are
+never found out. And there are the men who are mad and don't know it. In
+their mad times they commit all kinds of extravagances and follies, yet
+somehow they escape detection." So he talked; and he told me of a man
+who was a lawyer in one town with a wife and family, and also a lawyer
+in another with a different wife and family. But one lawyer never found
+out the other; and the thing was only discovered when the man got a
+paralytic stroke and died in a kind of bewilderment, because, when the
+time came for him to be the other man, he found himself lying in a
+strange bedroom with a strange family round him. I had long forgotten
+the asylum. I did the place for my paper three or four years ago, and
+scored by the description. Since last night I have been recalling my
+experience and applying it. You see there can never be any physical
+change. This is no Hyde and Jekyll business. Whatever happens must be
+conducted with the same body and the same mind. The same processes of
+mind in which the man is trained remain, but his madness requires a new
+setting.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'One cannot understand,' said Elsie.</p>
+
+<p>'No. But then one cannot understand everything. That's the real beauty
+of this world: we are planted in the midst of things: we can give names
+to them&mdash;Adam began that way, didn't he?&mdash;but we can't understand any of
+them; and most people think that when we have given a name we have
+succeeded in understanding. Well, Elsie&mdash;we don't understand. But we may
+find out something. I take it that the other man grew up by degrees in
+his brain, so that there is no solution in the continuity of thought and
+recollection. The Edmund Gray developed himself. He has been developed
+for nearly ten years, since he has occupied the same Chambers all the
+time.'</p>
+
+<p>'But about the forgeries?' George sprang to his feet. 'I declare,' he
+cried, 'that I had quite forgotten the real bearing on our case.'</p>
+
+<p>'Edmund Gray,' said Elsie, 'says that his own lawyer who manages his
+affairs is Edward Dering. If he were to write letters while Edmund Gray,
+he would not impose upon Edward Dering.'</p>
+
+<p>'He cannot write to two men,' said Athelstan. 'There must be a
+border-land between the waking and the dreaming, when the two spirits of
+Edmund Gray and Edward Dering contend for the mastery, or when they
+command each other&mdash;when Edmund Gray endorses cheques and Edward Dering
+writes letters and conducts transfers for his client&mdash;his
+double&mdash;himself.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have seen him in such a state,' said George. 'At the time I never
+suspected anything but a passing trouble of mind, which caused him to be
+so wrapped up in his thoughts as not to be able to distinguish anything.
+He was then, I doubt not now, carrying out the instructions of Edmund
+Gray, or he was Edmund Gray acting for himself. Checkley whispered not
+to disturb him. He said that he had often seen him so.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have never tried to understand,' said Elsie. 'But I saw that Edmund
+Gray was Mr. Dering gone mad, and that he himself, and nobody else, was
+the perpetrator of all these forgeries; and I have been trying to
+discover the best way&mdash;the kindest way to him&mdash;the surest way for us, of
+getting the truth known.&mdash;George, this is the secret of my mysterious
+movements. This is why I have not given you a single evening<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> for a
+whole fortnight. Every evening&mdash;both Sundays&mdash;I have spent with this
+dear old man. He is the most delightful&mdash;the most gentle&mdash;the most
+generous&mdash;old man that you ever saw. He is full of ideas&mdash;oh! quite
+full&mdash;and they carry you out of yourself, until you awake next morning
+to find that they are a dream. I have fallen in love with him. I have
+had the most charming fortnight&mdash;only one was always rather afraid that
+he might come to himself, which would be awkward.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, Elsie, have you found a way?'</p>
+
+<p>'I think I have. First, I have discovered that when he is surrounded
+with things that remind him of Edmund Gray, he remains Edmund Gray.
+Next, I have found out that I can, by talking to him even at his office,
+when he has his papers before him, turn him into Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are a witch, Elsie.'</p>
+
+<p>'She is,' said George, looking at her in the foolish lover's way. 'You
+see what she has turned me into&mdash;a long time ago, and she has never
+turned me back again.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have been thinking too,' said Athelstan. 'For our purposes, it would
+be enough to prove the identity of Edmund Gray and Edward Dering. That
+explains the resemblance of the handwriting and of the endorsement. My
+commissionaire's recollection of the man also identifies the cheque as
+drawn by himself for himself under another name. It explains the
+presence of the notes in the safe. It also shows that the long series of
+letters which passed between him and the broker were written by himself
+for himself. Here, however, is a difficulty. I can understand Edward
+Dering believing himself to be Edmund Gray, because I have seen it. But
+I cannot understand Edward Dering believing himself to be the Solicitor
+to Edmund Gray and writing at his command.'</p>
+
+<p>'But I have seen him in that condition,' said Elsie. 'It was while he
+was changing from one to the other. He sat like one who listens. I think
+that Edmund Gray was at his elbow speaking to him. I think I could make
+him write a letter by instruction from Edmund Gray. That he should
+believe himself acting for a client in writing to the broker is no more
+wonderful than that he should believe himself another man altogether.'</p>
+
+<p>'Show me, if you can, the old man acting for an imaginary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> client.
+Meantime, I mentioned the point as a difficulty. Prove, however, to Mr.
+Dering and to the others concerned that he is Edmund Gray, and all is
+proved. And this we can do by a host of witnesses.'</p>
+
+<p>'I want more than this, Athelstan,' said Elsie. 'It would still be open
+to the enemy to declare that George, or you, or I, had made use of his
+madness for our own purposes. I want a history of the whole case written
+out by Edmund Gray himself&mdash;a thing that we can show to Mr. Dering and
+to everybody else. But I dread his discovery. Already he is suspicious
+and anxious. I sometimes think that he is half conscious of his
+condition. We must break it to him as gently as we can. But the shock
+may kill him. Yet there is no escape. If the forgeries were known only
+to ourselves, we might keep the discovery a secret; and only if
+necessary&mdash;but it would not be necessary&mdash;keep some sort of watch over
+him and warn the Bank. But Checkley has told the clerks and the people
+at the Bank, and there are ourselves to think of and my mother and
+Hilda.&mdash;No; we must let them all know.'</p>
+
+<p>'And if one may mention one's self,' said Athelstan, 'my own little
+difficulty presses. Because, you see, I don't know how long I may be
+kept here. Perhaps to-morrow I might go on to St. Petersburg or to
+Pekin. Before I go, Elsie, I confess that I should like my mother to
+understand that&mdash;that she was a little hasty&mdash;that is all.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are not going to St. Petersburg, brother.' Elsie took his hand.
+'You are not going to leave us anymore. You are going to stay. I have
+made another discovery.'</p>
+
+<p>'Pray, if one may ask&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! you may ask. I saw a letter to-day&mdash;Mr. Dering showed it to me. It
+was written from the States three or four years ago. It showed where you
+were at that time and showed me more, Athelstan&mdash;it showed me how you
+lost the pile of money that you made over that silver mine&mdash;you
+remember, Athelstan?'</p>
+
+<p>He made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! do you think that I am going to accept this sacrifice? George, you
+do not know. The donor of that great sum of money which Mr. Dering held
+for me&mdash;we have often wondered who it was. I have only found out
+to-day&mdash;it was Athelstan. He gave me all he had for such a trifling
+thing&mdash;only because I would not believe that he was a villain&mdash;all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> he
+had in the world&mdash;and went out again into the cold. He said he dropped
+his money down a gully or a grating on the prairie&mdash;some nonsense. And
+he sent it all to me, George.&mdash;What shall we do?'</p>
+
+<p>'Is this really true, Athelstan? Did you really give up all this money
+to Elsie?'</p>
+
+<p>'She says so.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is quite true, George. I saw the letter&mdash;Mr. Dering showed it to
+me&mdash;in which he sent that money home, and begged Mr. Dering to take care
+of it, and to give it to me on the day when I should be one-and-twenty.
+He cannot deny it. Look at him. He blushes&mdash;he is ashamed&mdash;he hangs his
+head&mdash;he blows tobacco-smoke about in clouds, hoping to hide his red
+cheeks. And he talks of going on to St. Petersburg, when we know this
+secret, and have got the money! What do you call this conduct, George?'</p>
+
+<p>'Athelstan&mdash;there is no word for it. But you must have it back. You
+must, and shall. There can be no discussion about it. And there is not
+another man in the world, I believe, who would have done it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nonsense. I should only have lost it, if I had kept it,' Athelstan
+replied after the Irish fashion.</p>
+
+<p>'You hear, Athelstan. It is yours. There can be no discussion. That's
+what I like a man for. While we women are all talking and disputing, the
+man puts down his foot and says: "There can be no discussion." Then we
+all stop, and the right thing is done. It is yours, brother; and you
+shall have it, and you shall stay at home with us always and always.'
+She laid her hand upon his shoulder, and her arm round his neck,
+caressing him with hand and voice.</p>
+
+<p>The man who had wandered alone for eight years was not accustomed to
+sisterly caresses. They moved him. The thing itself moved him.</p>
+
+<p>'All this belongs to another chapter,' he said huskily. 'We will talk of
+it afterwards, when the business in hand is despatched.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, then&mdash;that is agreed. You are to have your money back: my mother
+is to take her suspicions back: Mr. Dering is to have his certificates
+back and his dividends: Checkley is to take his lies back: Sir Samuel is
+to have his charges back: George and I are going to have our peace of
+mind back. And we are all going to live happy ever afterwards.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'As for Wednesday now,' said George. 'It is not an unimportant day for
+us, you know.'</p>
+
+<p>'Everything is ready. On Sunday morning my mother is always at home
+before Church. I will see her then, and acquaint her with the news that
+the wedding will take place as originally proposed, at her house. This
+will astonish her very much, and she will become angry and polite and
+sarcastic. Then I shall tell her to prepare not only for a wedding
+feast, but also for a great, a very great surprise. And I shall also
+inform her that I shall be given away by my brother. And then&mdash;then&mdash;if
+I know my mother aright, she will become silent. I shall do that
+to-morrow morning.&mdash;In the evening, George, you will get your best-man,
+and I will get your sisters, my bridesmaids, and we will come here, or
+go to Richmond or somewhere&mdash;and have dinner and a cheerful evening.&mdash;Am
+I arranging things properly?'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite properly. Pray go on.'</p>
+
+<p>'Sunday afternoon I have promised to spend with my master&mdash;Edmund Gray.
+He is going to read me a new Paper he has just finished, in which he
+shows that Property can be destroyed by a painless process&mdash;Athelstan,
+put all your money into your pocket and keep it there&mdash;in less than a
+twelvemonth, and with it all crime&mdash;all sweating, all injustice.&mdash;No,
+Athelstan, he is not mad. When he argues on this theme he is persuasive
+and eloquent. He convinces everybody. I shall hear him out, and then I
+shall try to make him write down all that has happened. If we can only
+get such a confession, it would be better than anything else. But it may
+be difficult. He does not like being questioned about himself. If I do
+succeed&mdash;I don't know quite what I ought to do next. He must be told.
+Some time or other he must have the truth. I thought of asking all the
+people mentioned to meet at his office on Monday morning at noon when
+Mr. Dering is always himself. On Sunday I would not. He has to address
+his people on Sunday evening. Let him do so undisturbed. I will leave
+him in happiness that one night longer. But you two&mdash;you will be
+anxious. Come on Sunday evening&mdash;between eight and nine&mdash;to the Hall of
+Science. Then you will hear him and see me. And I will let you know how
+I have prospered.'</p>
+
+<p>'Sunday evening,' said George. 'Monday comes next, then Tuesday, and
+before Wednesday, my Elsie, the character<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> of these two convicts has to
+be completely whitewashed, even to the satisfaction of Hilda herself.
+Are we not running it pretty close?'</p>
+
+<p>'Unbeliever! Doubter! I tell you that you shall be married with all your
+friends round you, and that Athelstan shall give me away. And you shall
+go away on your holiday with a quiet heart and nothing to trouble you.
+What a foolish boy not to be able to trust his bride even for such a
+simple thing as getting a confession out of a madman!'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you sport a crest, old man?' asked Athelstan.</p>
+
+<p>'I believe there is some kind of a sort of a thing somewhere around. But
+crests are foolishness.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not always. Take a new one, George&mdash;a real one. Stamp it on your spoons
+and forks and in your books and on your carriage. Let it be simply the
+words, "Dux Femina Facti."'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2>
+
+<h3>ELSIE AND HER MOTHER</h3>
+
+<p>'Can you spare me a few minutes, mother?'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Arundel looked up from the desk where she was writing a letter, and
+saw her daughter standing before her. She started and changed colour,
+but quickly recovered, and replied coldly: 'I did not hear you come in,
+Elsie. What do you want with me?'</p>
+
+<p>Outside, the bells were ringing for Church: it was a quarter to eleven:
+Mrs. Arundel was already dressed for Church. She was one of those who do
+not see any incongruity between Church and a heart full of animosities.
+She was bitter against her daughter, and hard towards her son, and she
+hated her son-in-law elect with all the powers of her passionate nature.
+But, my brothers, what an array of bare benches should we see in every
+place of worship were those only admitted who came with hearts of
+charity and love!</p>
+
+<p>'Do you wish to keep me long, Elsie? If so, we will sit down. If not, I
+am ready for Church, and I do not like to arrive late. People in our
+position should show a good example.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'I do not think that I shall keep you very long. But if you sit down,
+you will be so much more comfortable.'</p>
+
+<p>'Comfort, Elsie, you have driven out of this house.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will bring it back with me, then. On Monday evening, mother, I am
+coming back.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! What do you mean, child? Has the blow really fallen? I heard that
+it was impending. Is the young man&mdash;is he&mdash;a prisoner?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, mother. You are quite mistaken. You have been mistaken all along.
+Yet I shall come back on Monday.'</p>
+
+<p>'Alone, then?'</p>
+
+<p>'I shall leave it to you whether I come back alone, or with the two men
+whom I most regard of all the world&mdash;my lover and my brother.'</p>
+
+<p>'You know my opinions, Elsie. There has been no change in them. There
+can be none.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wednesday is my wedding day.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am not interested in that event, Elsie. After your wedding with such
+a man, against the opinions, the wishes, the commands of all whom you
+are bound to respect, I can only say that you are no longer my
+daughter.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! How can you be so fixed in such a belief? Mother, let me make one
+more appeal to your better feelings. Throw off these suspicions. Believe
+me, they are baseless. There is not the shadow of a foundation for this
+ridiculous structure they have raised. Consider. It is now&mdash;how
+long?&mdash;three weeks since they brought this charge, and they have proved
+nothing&mdash;absolutely nothing. If you would only be brought to see on what
+false assumptions the whole thing rests.'</p>
+
+<p>'On solid foundations&mdash;hard facts&mdash;I want no more.'</p>
+
+<p>'If I could prove to you that Athelstan was in America until a month
+ago.'</p>
+
+<p>'Unhappy girl! He is deceiving you. He has been living for eight years
+in profligacy near London. Elsie, do not waste my time. It should be
+enough for me that my son-in-law, Sir Samuel Dering, a man of the
+clearest head and widest experience, is convinced that it is impossible
+to draw any other conclusions.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is enough for me,' Elsie rejoined quickly, 'that my heart tells me
+that my brother and my lover cannot be such creatures.'</p>
+
+<p>'You have something more to say, I suppose.' Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> Arundel buttoned her
+gloves. The clock was now at five minutes before eleven.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes. If it is no use at all trying to appeal to&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'No use at all,' Mrs. Arundel snapped. 'I am not disposed for
+sentimental nonsense.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am sorry, because you will be sorry afterwards. Well, then, I have
+come to tell you that I have made all the preparations, with George's
+assistance, for Wednesday.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes. The wedding cake will be sent in on Tuesday. My own dress&mdash;white
+satin, of course, very beautiful&mdash;is finished and tried on. It will be
+sent in on Monday evening. The two bridesmaids' dresses will also come
+on Monday. George has arranged at the Church. He has ordered the
+carriages and the bouquets and has got the ring. The presents you have
+already in the house. We shall be married at three. There will be a
+little gathering of the cousins after the wedding, and you will give
+them a little simple dinner in the evening, which will, I daresay, end
+with a little dance. George has also seen to the red cloth for the steps
+and all that. Oh! And on Tuesday evening you will give a big dinner
+party to everybody.'</p>
+
+<p>'Are you gone quite mad, Elsie?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not mad at all, my dear mother. It is Sir Samuel who is mad, and has
+driven you and Hilda mad. Oh! everything will come off exactly as I tell
+you. Perhaps you don't believe it.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are mad, Elsie. You are certainly mad.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, my dear mother, I am not mad. Oh! it is so absurd, if it were not
+so serious. But we are determined, George and I, not to make this
+absurdity the cause of lasting bitterness. Therefore, my dear mother, I
+do not want to be married from my brother's lodgings, but from your
+house. You will come to my wedding, I prophesy, full of love&mdash;full of
+love'&mdash;her eyes filled with tears&mdash;'for me and for George&mdash;and for
+Athelstan&mdash;full of love and of sorrow and of self-reproach. I am to be
+given away by my brother&mdash;you will come, I say, with a heart full of
+love and of pity for him.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Arundel gazed at her stonily.</p>
+
+<p>'Everybody will be there, and you will receive all your friends after
+the wedding. I have taken care of the invitations. Hilda will be there
+too, horribly ashamed of herself. It will be a lovely wedding; and we
+shall go away with such good wishes from yourself as you would not in
+your present<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> state of mind believe possible. Go now to Church, my dear
+mother, prepared for a happy and a joyful day.'</p>
+
+<p>'I sometimes believe, Elsie,' said Mrs. Arundel, more coldly still,
+'that you have been deprived of your senses. So far from this, I shall
+not be present at your wedding. I will not interfere with your holding
+your marriage here, if you like; you may fill the house with your
+friends, if you please. I shall myself take shelter with my more dutiful
+daughter. I refuse to meet my unhappy son; I will not be a consenting
+party to the tie which will entail a lifelong misery&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear mother&mdash;you will do everything exactly as I have
+prophesied.&mdash;Now, do not say any more, because it will only make our
+reconciliation a little more difficult. I ought to go to Church on the
+Sunday before my wedding if any day in the week. If you would only
+recover your trust in my lover's honour, I could go to Church with you
+and kneel beside you. But without that trust&mdash;&mdash; Oh! go, my dear mother.
+You will find my prophecy come true, word for word&mdash;believe me or not.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Arundel went to Church. During the service she felt strange
+prickings of foreboding and of compunction and of fear, anxiety, and
+hope, with a little sadness, caused by the communication and the
+assurances of her daughter. Even in such a case as this, the thinker of
+evil is sometimes depressed by the arrival of the prophet of good. When
+Mrs. Arundel came away from Church, she became aware that she had not
+heard one single word of the sermon. Not that she wanted very much to
+hear the sermon, any more than the First or Second Lesson&mdash;all three
+being parts of the whole which every person of respectability must hear
+once a week. Only it was disquieting to come away after half an hour's
+discourse with the feeling that she did not remember a single syllable
+of it. She took her early dinner with the other daughter, to whom she
+communicated Elsie's remarkable conduct, and her prediction and her
+invitation. It was decided between them that her brain was affected&mdash;no
+doubt, only for a time&mdash;and that it was not expedient for them to
+interfere; that it was deplorable, but a part of what might have been
+expected; and that time would show. Meanwhile, Sir Samuel reported that
+it had been resolved to get a warrant for the arrest of the man Edmund
+Gray, who hitherto had eluded all attempts to find him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'He appears to be a real person,' the knight concluded&mdash;'an elderly man,
+whose character, so far as we can learn, is good. It is, however,
+significant that nothing has been discovered concerning his profession
+or calling. That is mysterious. For my own part, I like to know how a
+man earns his daily bread. I have even consulted a person connected with
+the Police. Nothing is known or suspected about him. But we shall see as
+soon as he is before the magistrate.'</p>
+
+<p>'And Wednesday is so close! Oh! my dear Sir Samuel, hurry them up. Even
+at the last moment&mdash;even at the risk of a terrible scandal&mdash;if Elsie
+could be saved!'</p>
+
+<p>'Well,' said Sir Samuel, 'it is curious&mdash;I don't understand it&mdash;we had
+arranged for the application for a warrant for Friday morning. Would you
+believe it? That old donkey Checkley won't go for it&mdash;wants it put
+off&mdash;says he thinks it will be of no use. What with this young man
+Austin at first, and this old man Checkley next, we seem in a conspiracy
+to defeat the ends of justice. But to-morrow I shall go myself to my
+brother. It is time this business was finished.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;yes,' said Mrs. Arundel. 'And my dear Sir Samuel, before
+Wednesday&mdash;let it be before Wednesday, I implore you, for all our
+sakes!'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear Madam, it shall be to-morrow.'</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>At noon, Elsie returned to Half Moon Street, where George was waiting
+for her.</p>
+
+<p>'I have made one more attempt,' she said, with tears; 'but it was
+useless. Her heart is as hard about you as ever it was about Athelstan.
+It is wonderful that she should have so little faith. I suppose it comes
+of going into the City and trying to make money. Edmund Gray would say
+so. I would have told her all, but for the old man's sake. He knows
+nothing: he suspects nothing; and I want to make the case so complete
+that there shall be no doubt&mdash;none whatever&mdash;possible in the minds of
+the most suspicious. Even Checkley must be satisfied. I shall finish the
+work, I hope, this afternoon&mdash; Oh! George&mdash;is it possible? Is our
+wedding day next Wednesday&mdash;actually next Wednesday? And the hateful
+cloud shall be blown away, and&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>For the rest of this chapter look into the book of holy kisses, where
+you will very likely find it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2>
+
+<h3>PLENARY CONFESSION</h3>
+
+<p>Early on Sunday afternoon Elsie started upon her mission. She was
+anxious, because she was entering upon a most important business, and
+one requiring the greatest delicacy in the handling. It was enough&mdash;more
+than enough&mdash;that her witnesses should be able, one after the other, to
+identify Mr. Dering with Mr. Edmund Gray: but how much more would her
+hands be strengthened if she could produce a full and complete narrative
+of the whole affair, written by the hand which had done it all? To get
+that narrative was her business with the Master that afternoon. But she
+was hopeful, partly because she knew her power over the philosopher; and
+partly because, like every woman who respects herself, she had always
+been accustomed to get exactly what she wanted, either by asking,
+coaxing, flattering, or taking.</p>
+
+<p>The Master was waiting for her&mdash;one should never keep a Master
+waiting&mdash;and she was a little late: he was impatient: he had so much to
+talk about and to teach: one point suggested another in his mind: so
+much to say: he grudged the least delay: he walked about the room
+chafing because the hour appointed was already five minutes in the past:
+he would scold her: she must really learn to be punctual: they had only
+about five short hours before them for all he had to say. Was this the
+zeal of a student? But at that point she opened the door and ran in,
+breathless, smiling, eager, holding out both her hands, a dainty
+delicate maiden all his own&mdash;his disciple&mdash;his daughter&mdash;the daughter of
+the New Humanity&mdash;and he forgot his irritation, and took her hands in
+his and kissed her forehead. 'Child,' he sighed, 'you are late. But
+never mind. You are here. Why, you have grown so precious to me that I
+cannot bear you to be a minute late. It is such a happiness&mdash;such a joy
+in the present&mdash;such a promise for the future&mdash;that I have such a
+disciple! Now sit down&mdash;take off your bonnet. I have put a chair for you
+at the window&mdash;and a table for you to write. Here is your
+note-book.&mdash;Now&mdash;you have thought over what I taught you last?&mdash;That<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> is
+well. Let us resume at the point where we left off&mdash;the rise of the
+co-operative spirit, which is the rise of the New Humanity.'</p>
+
+<p>He talked for two hours&mdash;two long eloquent hours: he walked about the
+room: or he stopped before his disciple emphasising with the forefinger
+of admonition&mdash;repeating&mdash;illustrating by anecdote and memory&mdash;he had a
+prodigious memory. The Scholar listened intelligently. Sometimes she
+asked a question: sometimes she made notes. You must not think that she
+was a sham scholar; her interest in the Master's system was not
+simulated. Above all things, she loved to hear this enthusiast talk&mdash;who
+would not love to hear of the New Jerusalem? Always he made her heart to
+glow with the Vision that he conjured up before her eyes of a world
+where there should be no more sorrow nor crying nor any more pain, nor
+any of the former things. He made her actually see&mdash;what others only
+read of&mdash;the Four-square City itself with its gates open night and day,
+its jasper walls, and its twelve foundations of precious stones.&mdash;'Why,'
+he said, 'the gates are open night and day because there is no Property
+to defend; and the walls are of jasper because it is the most beautiful
+of minerals, and because it can be polished like a mirror, so that the
+country around is reflected on its surface, which shows that it all
+belongs to the City; and the precious stones are the twelve cardinal
+virtues of Humanity, on which the order of the future shall
+rest&mdash;namely, Faith, Brotherly Love, Obedience, Patience, Loyalty,
+Constancy, Chastity, Courage, Hope, Simplicity, Tenderness, and
+Industry. It is an allegory&mdash;the whole book is an allegory&mdash;of
+Humanity.' And she saw, beside the City, the river of life with the tree
+of life for the healing of all nations.</p>
+
+<p>Then she clean forgot the purpose for which she had come: she was
+carried away: her heart beat&mdash;her cheek glowed. Oh! Lovely Vision! Oh!
+Great and glorious Prophet! He made a Heaven, and placed it on this
+earth. Now the mind of man can conceive of no other happiness but that
+which humanity can make out of the actual materials found upon this
+earthly ball. The Heaven, even of the most spiritual, is a glorified
+world; the Hell, even of the most gentle, is a world of fleshly pain: no
+other Heaven attracts: no other Hell terrifies: there is no promise, or
+hope, or prospect, or inheritance that man desires or poet can feign or
+visionary can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> preach but an earthly Heaven: it must be a Heaven
+containing sunshine and shower, kindly fruits in due season, love and
+joy and music and art, and men and women who love each other and labour
+for each other. Such a world&mdash;such a New Jerusalem&mdash;the Master drew
+every day; he loved it, and lingered over it; he painted over and over
+again this splendid Vision. He was never tired of painting it, or his
+hearers of gazing upon it. But to-day he spoke with greater fulness,
+more clearly, more brilliantly, more joyously than ever. Was the Prophet
+really a man of seventy years and more? For his mind was young&mdash;the
+enthusiast, like the poet, never grows old. His voice might have been
+the voice of a boy&mdash;a marvellous boy&mdash;a Shelley&mdash;preaching the glories
+of the world when Property should be no more.</p>
+
+<p>He ceased. And the Vision which he had raised quickly faded away. They
+were back again in the dingy old Inn; they were among the solicitors and
+the money-lenders and the young fellows who have their Chambers in the
+place. The Inn is about as far from the New Jerusalem as any place under
+the sun; it is made over bodily and belongs&mdash;every stair&mdash;every
+chamber&mdash;to the interests of Property.</p>
+
+<p>He ceased his prophecy, and began to argue, to reason, to chop logic,
+which was not by any means so interesting. At last he stopped this as
+well. 'You have now, dear child,' he said, 'heard quite as much as you
+can profitably absorb. I have noticed for the last two or three minutes
+your eyes wandering and your attention wearied. Let us stop&mdash;only
+remember what I have just said about the diseases of the Body Politic.
+They are akin to those that affect the human body. By comparing the two
+we may learn not only cause, but also effect. We have our rheumatisms,
+gouts, asthmas, neuralgias, colds and coughs, fevers and other ills. So
+has the Body Politic. Whence come our diseases? From the ignorance, the
+follies, the vices, the greed and gluttony of our forefathers. So those
+of the Body Politic. Take away Property and you destroy greed. With
+that, half the diseases vanish.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie heard and inclined her head. It did occur to her that perhaps
+Property in the Body Politic might be represented by food in the Body
+Human, but she forbore. The Master was one who did not invite argument.
+Nearly all the great Teachers of the world, if you think of it, have
+conveyed their wisdom in maxims and aphorisms.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He took out his watch. 'It is nearly four,' he said. 'Shall we go on to
+the Hall?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not yet. There is no need for us to be there before six. We have two
+good hours before us. Let us use them more pleasantly than in sitting
+alone in the Hall&mdash;you must own that it is stuffy. We will talk about
+other things&mdash;about ourselves&mdash;not about me, because I am quite an
+insignificant person, but about you, dear Master.' She was now about to
+enter upon her plan of duplicity. She felt horribly ashamed, but it had
+to be done. She strengthened herself: she resolved: she suppressed the
+voice of conscience.</p>
+
+<p>'About me?' asked the Master. 'But what is there to talk about?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! there is ever so much.' She took his right hand in her own and held
+it, knowing that this little caress pleased and moved him. 'Master&mdash;what
+a wonderful chance it was that brought me here! I can never sufficiently
+wonder at it. I have told George&mdash;George Austin&mdash;my lover, you know: and
+Athelstan&mdash;he is my brother.' She looked at him sharply, but there was
+no sign of recognition of those two names. Edmund Gray had never heard
+of either. 'I have told them about you and of your great work, and how
+you are teaching me and everything. But when they ask me who you are,
+where you have lived, and all about you, I can tell them nothing. Oh! I
+know it matters nothing about me and my own friends; but, my dear
+Master, we have to think of the future. When the Cause has spread, and
+spread, and spread, till it covers the whole world, people will want to
+know all about the man who first preached its principles. Who will be
+able to tell them? No one. You are alone; you have no wife or children.
+Your name will remain for ever attached to the Cause itself. But
+you&mdash;you&mdash;the man&mdash;what will you be? Nothing. Nothing but a name. You
+ought to write an autobiography.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have sometimes thought I would do so'&mdash;his face became troubled;
+'but&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'But you are always occupied with working for the world. You have no
+time, of course. I quite understand that; and it worries you&mdash;does it
+not?&mdash;to be called upon to turn your thoughts from the present back to
+the past.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;yes; it does&mdash;it does. Elsie, you exactly express the
+difficulty.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'And yet&mdash;you must own&mdash;you must confess&mdash;it is natural for the world to
+want to know all about you. Who was the great Edmund Gray? Why, they
+will want to know every particular&mdash;every single particular: where you
+were born&mdash;where you were educated&mdash;who were your masters&mdash;what led you
+to the study of Humanity and its problems&mdash;where you lived; if you were
+married and to whom&mdash;what you read&mdash;who were your friends. Oh! there is
+no end to the curiosity of the world about their great men.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps.' He rose and looked out of the window. When men are greatly
+pleased they must always be moving. 'I confess that I have never thought
+of these things at all. Yet, to be sure&mdash;you are right.' He murmured and
+purred.</p>
+
+<p>'No, but I have thought of them, ever since I had the happiness of being
+received by you. Master, will you trust me? Shall I become your
+biographer? You cannot find one more loving. You have only to give me
+the materials. Now&mdash;let me ask you a few questions just for a
+beginning&mdash;just to show you the kind of thing I shall want to know.'</p>
+
+<p>He laughed and sat down again. 'Why, my life has not got in it one
+single solitary incident, or episode, or adventure. There are no
+misfortunes in it. There is not such a thing as a disease in it. I have
+always been perfectly well. There is not even a love episode or a
+flirtation in it. There are not even any religious difficulties in it.
+Without love, ill-health, misfortune, religious doubts&mdash;where is the
+interest in the life, and what is there to tell?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, a life that has no incident in it must be the life of a student.
+It is only a student who never falls in love.'</p>
+
+<p>'Or,' said the Philosopher, 'a money-getter.'</p>
+
+<p>'Happily, there are not many students or we women should be disconsolate
+indeed. Do you know, Master, that you can only be excused such a
+dreadful omission in your history by that one plea? Sit down again,
+Master,' for again he was walking about restlessly, partly disturbed by
+her questions, and partly flattered and pleased by her reasons. She
+opened her note-book and began to ask questions about himself&mdash;very
+simple questions, such as would not introduce any disturbing points. He
+answered readily, and she observed with interest that he gave correctly
+the facts of his own&mdash;Edward Dering's&mdash;history.</p>
+
+<p>He was born, he said, in that class which upholds Property&mdash;the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> Better
+Class&mdash;meaning the Richer. His father was a wealthy solicitor, who lived
+in Bedford Row. He was born in the year 1815&mdash;Waterloo year. He was the
+eldest of a family of five&mdash;three daughters and two sons. He was
+educated at Westminster. On leaving school, his father offered him the
+advantage of a University course, but he refused, being anxious to begin
+as early as possible his life's work&mdash;as he thought&mdash;in the defence of
+Property. He was therefore articled to his father; and at the age of
+twenty-two he passed his examination and was admitted.</p>
+
+<p>'And then you were young&mdash;you were not yet a student&mdash;you went into
+society. You saw girls and danced with them. Yet you never fell in love,
+and were never married. How strange! I thought everybody wanted love. A
+man's real life only begins, I have always been taught, with love and
+marriage. Love means everything.'</p>
+
+<p>'To you, my child, no doubt it does. Such as you are born for love,' he
+added gallantly. 'Venus herself smiles in your eyes and sits upon your
+lips. But as for me I was always studious more or less, though I did not
+for long find out my true line. I worked hard&mdash;I went out very little. I
+was cold by nature, perhaps. I had no time to think about such things.
+Now, when it is too late, I regret the loss of the experience. Doubtless
+if I had that experience I should have gained greatly in the power of
+persuasion. I should have a much more potent influence over the women
+among my hearers. If I were a married man I should be much more in
+sympathy with them.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;n&mdash;no.' Elsie hesitated a little. 'Perhaps women&mdash;especially the
+younger kind&mdash;get on better with unmarried men. However, you were not
+married.'</p>
+
+<p>'At first, then, I was a solicitor with my father. Then&mdash;presently&mdash;&mdash;'
+His face put on the troubled look again.</p>
+
+<p>'You continued,' Elsie interrupted quickly, 'to work at your profession,
+though you took up other studies.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no&mdash;not quite that.'</p>
+
+<p>'You began to take up Social problems, and gradually abandoned your
+profession.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no&mdash;not that either&mdash;quite.'</p>
+
+<p>'You found you could not reconcile your conscience any longer to
+defending Property.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;I forget exactly. It is strange that one should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> forget a thing so
+simple. I am growing old, I suppose.&mdash;Well&mdash;it matters not. I left the
+profession. That is the only important thing to remember. That I did so
+these Chambers prove. I came out of it. Yes, that was it. Just at the
+moment, my head being full of other things, I cannot remember the exact
+time, or the manner of my leaving the profession. I forget the
+circumstances, probably because I attached so little importance to it.
+The real point is that I came out of it and gave myself up to these
+studies.'</p>
+
+<p>She noted this important point carefully and looked up for more.</p>
+
+<p>'There, my dear child, is my whole life for you. Without an incident or
+an episode. I was born: I went to school: I became a solicitor: I gave
+up my profession: I studied social economy: I made my great discovery: I
+preached it. Then&mdash;did I say my life was without an episode and without
+love? No&mdash;no&mdash;I was wrong. My daughter&mdash;I have at last found love and a
+child&mdash;and a disciple. What more have I to ask?'</p>
+
+<p>'My Master!' No daughter could be more in sympathy with him than this
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>'It is all most valuable and interesting,' she said, 'though the facts
+are so few. Books will be written, in the future, on these facts, which
+will be filled out with conjecture and inference. Even the things that
+you think of so little importance will be made the subject of comment
+and criticism. Well&mdash;but my Biography of you will be the first and best
+and most important. I shall first make a skeleton life out of the facts,
+and then fill in the flesh and blood and put on the clothes, and present
+you, dear Master, just as you are.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ask me what you will, but not too often. It worries me to remember the
+past. My dear, I am like a man who has made himself&mdash;who has risen from
+the gutter. He cannot deny the fact, but he doesn't like to be talking
+about it; and he is insulted if anyone charges him with the fact or
+alludes to it in any way in his presence. That is my case exactly. I
+have made myself. I have raised myself from the gutter&mdash;the gutter of
+Property. I actually worked in defence of Property till I was sixty
+years old and more. Now I am rather ashamed of that fact. I do not deny
+it&mdash;you must put it into your Biography&mdash;but I do not like talking about
+it.'</p>
+
+<p>'You were once a solicitor, and you are now a Prophet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> What a leap!
+What a wonderful leap! I quite understand. Yet sometimes, now and then,
+for the sake of the curious impertinent world, look back and tell me
+what you see.'</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose it is because I am so absorbed in my work that it is
+difficult for me to remember things. Why, Elsie, day after day, from
+morning to evening, I sit here at work. And in the evening I remember
+nothing of the flight of time. The hours strike, but I hear them not.
+Only the books on the table show what has been my occupation. And you
+want me to go back, not to yesterday, but ten, twenty, thirty years ago.
+My dear child, I cannot. Some of the past is clear to me&mdash;a day here and
+there I remember clearly&mdash;all my evenings at the Hall of Science: my
+lessons with you; those I remember. But to recall days passed in
+meditation and absorbing study is not possible. No&mdash;no&mdash;I cannot even
+try.'</p>
+
+<p>He spoke with a little distress, as if the very thought of the necessary
+effort troubled him.</p>
+
+<p>'Believe me, my dear Master,' said Elsie, 'I would not vex you. Only for
+some of the things which you do remember. For instance, the world always
+wants to know about the private fortunes of its great men. Your own
+affairs, you told me once, are in the hands of a&mdash;Mr.&mdash;Mr.&mdash;what is his
+name?'</p>
+
+<p>'Dering&mdash;Dering. A very well known solicitor. His office is in New
+Square, Lincoln's Inn&mdash;he manages my money matters. I am, I believe,
+what the world calls wealthy.'</p>
+
+<p>'That gives you independence and the power of working for Humanity, does
+it not?'</p>
+
+<p>'It does,' said the Scourge and Destroyer of Property, unconscious of
+the incongruity. 'Dering, my solicitor, is, I believe, a very honest
+man. Narrow in his views&mdash;wedded to the old school&mdash;quite unable to see
+the advance of the tide. But trustworthy. He belongs to a tribe which is
+indispensable so long as Property is suffered to exist.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;only so long. Property and lawyers will go out hand in hand.'</p>
+
+<p>'And magistrates,' he added with enthusiasm. 'And Courts of Justice and
+prisons. And criminals, because the chief incentive to crime will be
+destroyed. What a glorious world without a law, or a lawyer, or a
+policeman!'</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Dering, is it? Why, my dear Master, I know something about Mr.
+Dering. My brother Athelstan was articled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> to him. He became a managing
+clerk for him. Then there was trouble about a cheque. Something was
+wrong about it. He was unjustly blamed or suspected, and he left the
+House. I wonder, now, whether you could throw any light upon that
+business of the cheque?'</p>
+
+<p>'I, my dear child? A single solitary cheque at a lawyer's office? How
+should I possibly know anything about it?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! but you might remember this cheque, because, now I think of it,
+your own name was connected with it. Yes&mdash;it was. I am certain it was.
+The cheque was drawn in March in the year 1882&mdash;a cheque for seven
+hundred and twenty pounds, payable to your order&mdash;the order of Edmund
+Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>'A cheque for seven hundred and twenty pounds? In March 1882? That must
+have been: yes&mdash;yes&mdash;that was about the time. Now, this is really most
+remarkable, child, most remarkable that you should actually hit upon a
+cheque&mdash;one of thousands issued from that office&mdash;which I should
+remember perfectly. Life is full of coincidences&mdash;one is always hearing
+odd things said, meeting faces which one knows.&mdash;Well, it is most
+remarkable, because I received a cheque for that very amount at that
+very time from Dering. Oh! I remember perfectly. It was when I had a
+scheme&mdash;I thought it then, being younger than I am now&mdash;a very good
+scheme indeed. It was intended for the gradual destruction of Property.
+I did not understand at that time so fully as I do now the rising of the
+tide and the direction of the current which is steadily advancing to
+overwhelm Property without any feeble efforts on my part. Yet my scheme
+was good so far as it went, and it might have been started with good
+effect, but for the apathy of the workers. You see, they were not
+educated up to it. I had already begun upon my scheme by advancing to
+certain working men sums which should make them independent of their
+employers until they should have produced enough to sell directly,
+without the aid of an employer, at their own co-operative stores.
+Unfortunately, most of them drank the money: the few who used it
+properly, instead of backing up their fellow-workmen, became themselves
+employers, and are now wealthy. Well, I thought I would extend this
+method. I thought that if I got together a chosen band&mdash;say, of seventy
+or so&mdash;and if, after teaching them and educating them a bit, I gave
+them, say, ten pounds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> apiece, to tide them over the first few weeks,
+that I might next open a distributive and co-operative store for them,
+and so take the first step to abolishing the middle-man&mdash;the man of
+trade.'</p>
+
+<p>'I see; and so you drew the money for that purpose?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes. But as I told you, I was obliged to abandon my scheme. The men
+were not sufficiently advanced. They listened; they professed great
+willingness to receive the money; but they gave me no encouragement to
+hope that they would carry out my plan. So it fell through. And the men
+remain to this day with their employers. And so&mdash;you see&mdash;I never used
+the money. I remember that I had the cheque cashed in ten-pound notes
+for the purpose.'</p>
+
+<p>'What became of the notes?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know. They are in the Bank, I suppose&mdash;wandering about the
+world. I gave them back to Dering.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! my dear Master'&mdash;Elsie sprang to her feet and laid a sheet of paper
+on the table&mdash;'this is most Providential! I cannot tell you what a
+dreadful cause of trouble this cheque has been to us. It has half ruined
+my brother's life. For Heaven's sake, write it all down for me. Quick!
+quick! before you forget it all.'</p>
+
+<p>'I shall not forget it. Nevertheless, Elsie, if a statement of the facts
+can be of any use to you'&mdash;he changed his seat and took up the
+pen&mdash;'certainly I will write it for you.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am requested,' he wrote, 'by Miss Elsie Arundel, my Scholar, to state
+what I know of a certain transaction which took place in March 1882. The
+facts are as follows: I had need of a sum of seven hundred and twenty
+pounds. For certain purposes I wanted it in ten-pound notes. I asked my
+agent, Mr. Dering, to give me a cheque; and as I thought that I should
+want the money immediately, perhaps in an hour or so, I asked him to
+make it payable to my order, and not to cross the cheque. He drew the
+cheque and gave it to me in his office. I then went to the hotel where I
+was stopping&mdash;a place in Arundel Street, Strand, and sent a
+commissionaire to the Bank for the money. He brought it, as I had
+requested, in ten-pound notes. In a few days I discovered that my plan
+could not be even commenced without the greatest danger of defeating its
+own object. I therefore took the notes to Mr. Dering's office and placed
+them in his safe. I suppose that he has long since returned them to the
+Bank.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'There, child,' he said, reading this statement aloud. 'That is what I
+recollect about this matter.'</p>
+
+<p>'Sign it.' Elsie gave him the pen again. 'Sign it, dear Master.&mdash;Oh!
+thanks&mdash;thanks a thousand times! You don't know&mdash;oh! you will never know
+or understand&mdash;I hope&mdash;how precious this document will be for me'&mdash;she
+folded the paper in an envelope and placed it in her handbag&mdash;'and for
+my people&mdash;my brother and all. Oh! my dear Master.' She stooped and
+kissed his hand, to hide the tears in her eyes. Athelstan's name was
+safe now whatever happened. He would be completely cleared at last.</p>
+
+<p>'Why, my dear Scholar&mdash;my dear daughter.' Mr. Edmund Gray was moved
+himself almost to tears at this unexpected burst of feeling. 'As if
+there was anything I would not do for you if I could. I, who have never
+loved any woman before, love one now. She is my daughter&mdash;my
+grandchild.&mdash;So your brother will be helped by this little
+reminiscence&mdash;will he? Actually, your brother! I wonder if there is
+anything more that I could remember for you in this uneventful life of
+mine.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh no!&mdash;that would be too much to hope. Yet there is a chance&mdash;just a
+chance. I wonder if I may tell you. There is still time before us. If we
+are at the Hall by six we shall do very well. It is no more than
+half-past four. Shall I tell you the trouble? Oh! But it is a shame. And
+you with this great work laid upon you! No&mdash;no&mdash;I must not.' Oh!
+Delilah! oh! Circe! for she looked as if, in spite of her unwilling
+words, she wanted to tell it very badly indeed.</p>
+
+<p>'Nay, my dear. You must, and you shall.&mdash;What? You are in trouble, and
+you will not tell me what it is. You&mdash;my Scholar&mdash;my clear-eyed
+disciple, who can see what these dull creatures of clay around us can
+never understand&mdash;you are in trouble, and you hesitate to tell me?&mdash;Fie!
+fie! Speak now. Tell me all.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have told you that I have a lover, and that I am engaged to be
+married.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;yes. His name, too, you have told me. It is George&mdash;George Austin.
+There were Austins once&mdash;I seem to remember&mdash;but that does not matter.'</p>
+
+<p>'We are to be married on Wednesday.'</p>
+
+<p>'So soon? But you have promised that I shall not lose my pupil.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'No, dear Master. As soon as we come back from our holiday, I will come
+and see you again and learn of you. Do not doubt that. I can never again
+let you go out of my life. I shall bring my&mdash;my husband with me.'</p>
+
+<p>'If I thought your marriage would take you away from me, I should be the
+most unhappy of men. But I will spare you for a month&mdash;two months&mdash;as
+long as you please. Now, tell me what is on your mind.'</p>
+
+<p>'George was one of Mr. Dering's managing clerks&mdash;your Mr. Dering, you
+know.'&mdash;Mr. Edmund Gray nodded gravely. 'He had no money when we were
+engaged, and we thought that we were going to be quite a poor and humble
+pair. But a great piece of good fortune happened to him, for Mr. Dering
+made him a Partner.'</p>
+
+<p>'Did he? Very lucky for your friend. But I always thought that Dering
+ought to have a Partner. At his age it was only prudent&mdash;necessary,
+even.'</p>
+
+<p>'So we were made very happy; and I thought we were the luckiest couple
+in the world. But just then there was a discovery made at the office&mdash;a
+very singular discovery&mdash;I hardly know how to describe it, because it is
+not quite clear to me even yet. It was concerned with the buying or
+selling or transfer of certain stocks and shares and coupons and that
+kind of thing. Mr. Dering seems not to remember having signed the papers
+concerned. There is a fear that they are in wrong hands. There is a
+suspicion of forgery even. I am ashamed even to mention such a thing to
+you, but my lover's name has been connected with the business; and
+Dering's clerk, Checkley&mdash;you know Checkley?'&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly&mdash;Dering's old servant.'</p>
+
+<p>'Has openly charged George&mdash;on no evidence, to be sure&mdash;of having forged
+the letters or of having assisted in the forgery.'</p>
+
+<p>'This is very serious.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is very serious; but we do not intend to let the thing interfere
+with our wedding. Only, unless I can remove the last ray of suspicion
+before Wednesday, we shall spend our honeymoon at home, in order to
+watch the case from day to day.'</p>
+
+<p>'Buying or selling stocks? Dering would be constantly doing that.'</p>
+
+<p>'It appears that these transactions were the only things of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> the kind
+that he has done this year. That is to say, he denies having done
+these.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;as for these having been the only transactions of the kind, he
+managed a good bit of such business for me this last spring.'</p>
+
+<p>'Did he? Do you remember the details of that business?'</p>
+
+<p>'Clearly. It was only yesterday, so to speak.'</p>
+
+<p>'Was it the purchase or transfer of stock or shares?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. To a very large amount. I have told you about my Industrial
+Village, have I not? The Village where all are to be equal&mdash;all are to
+work for a certain time every day, and no longer&mdash;all are to be paid in
+rations and clothes and houses, and there is to be no private
+property&mdash;my Ideal Village.'</p>
+
+<p>'I know. A lovely Village.'</p>
+
+<p>'It was early in the spring that I finished my designs for it. Then it
+occurred to me that it would be well if, instead of always going to my
+lawyer for money, I had a large sum at my command lying at my Bank. So I
+instructed Dering to transfer to my name a great quantity of stocks
+lying in his name. He was a trustee or a&mdash;well&mdash;it is rather unusual,
+but I like having all my business affairs managed for me, and&mdash;&mdash; But
+this will not interest you'&mdash;this with the look of irritation or
+bewilderment which sometimes passed over his face. 'The important thing
+is that it was done, and that my Bank received those transfers, and has
+instructions to receive the dividends.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! And has all the papers, I suppose?'</p>
+
+<p>'It had them. But I thought that perhaps my old friend might think it
+looked like want of confidence if I left them there, so I sent for them,
+and took them to his office. They are now in the safe. I put them there
+myself with my own hand; or he did with his own hand&mdash;I forget.
+Sometimes&mdash;it is very odd&mdash;when I think of things done at that office, I
+seem to have done it myself; and sometimes I think that he did it. Not
+that it matters.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not at all. The papers are actually in the safe again?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. I&mdash;that is&mdash;he&mdash;he or I&mdash;put them there.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! my dear Master'&mdash;Elsie clapped her hands&mdash;'this is even more
+important than the other. You do not know&mdash;you cannot guess&mdash;what
+mischiefs you are able to stop. If I had only been able to talk to you
+about these things before!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> The paper you have already written is for my
+brother. Now sit down, my Master, and write another that will do for
+me.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will do anything you ask me&mdash;and everything. But as for this, why not
+ask Dering? His memory never fails. His mind is like a box which holds
+everything and can never be filled. Perhaps he would not like these
+private affairs&mdash;as between solicitor and client&mdash;to be talked about.'</p>
+
+<p>'We cannot go to Mr. Dering. There are certain reasons which would not
+interest you. All we want is a clear, straightforward statement, an
+exact statement of what happened. Sit down now and write me a full
+account of each transaction.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly; if it will be of the least use to you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Early in the present year,' he began, 'I found that my plan of an
+Industrial Village if it was to be carried into effect would want all
+the money I could command. It occurred to me that it would be well to
+transfer a certain sum from the hands of my agent, and to place it in my
+own Bank ready to hand. I began then, in March, with a sum of six
+thousand pounds, which Dering, by my instructions, handed over to my
+Bank in the form of shares and stocks. I believe they were transfers of
+certain stocks held by him in his own name, but forming part of my
+fortune&mdash;my large private fortune. The Bank was instructed to receive
+the dividends on that sum. A month or so later I obtained from Dering
+other stock to the value of twelve thousand pounds, the papers of which
+were also given to my Bank. And after that I took out papers
+representing twenty thousand pounds; so that I had in my hands, ready to
+be sold out and used at a moment's notice, no less than thirty-eight
+thousand pounds. All this money I intended to devote to my Industrial
+Village. The scheme is still one in which I put my whole confidence. But
+it has not yet been carried into effect, in consequence of the
+difficulty of finding working men equal to the situation. They
+understand working for the man who has the money; they do not understand
+working for the man who has none, that is for each other and for
+themselves. For my own part I could only find working men of that stamp.
+Perhaps I am too much in the study. I do not go about enough among
+working men. There must be some advanced to my stage of
+development.&mdash;Well, for want of men, I could not start my Village, and I
+have not used the money. As for the papers, I have taken them out of the
+Bank and placed them in Dering's safe.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Elsie looked over his shoulder, reading every word. 'The letters which
+Mr. Dering wrote to the stockbroker in accordance with your
+instructions. They were written for him&mdash;perhaps&mdash;by you. It is unusual,
+but&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I told you,' he replied sharply. 'What is the use of saying things
+twice? There are some things which confuse a man. I wrote them&mdash;he wrote
+them&mdash;he acted for me&mdash;or I acted for myself. What matter? The end is as
+I have written down for you.&mdash;Now, will this paper be of any use to
+you?'</p>
+
+<p>'Of the greatest use. Please sign it, dear Master.'</p>
+
+<p>He obeyed, and signed 'Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>'There is one thing more.' Elsie saw in his face signs of disquiet, and
+hastened on. 'You have got your Bank book here?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes. The Manager sent it here with an impertinent note about
+references, which I have sent on to Dering.&mdash;What do you want with the
+Bank book? It is in one of those drawers. See&mdash;here it is&mdash;cheque book
+too.'</p>
+
+<p>'If I were you, Master, I would have no more trouble about the money.
+You have given Mr. Dering the transfers and papers&mdash;why not give him
+back the money as well? Do not be bothered with money matters. It is of
+all things important to you to be free from all kinds of business and
+money matters. Who ever heard of a Prophet drawing a cheque? You sit
+here and work and meditate. You go to the Hall of Science and teach. It
+is the business of your friends to see that all your necessities are
+properly supplied.&mdash;Now, if you will in these minor matters suffer your
+friends to advise&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Surely. I ask for nothing else.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then, dear Master, here is your cheque book and here your Bank book.
+Draw a cheque payable to the order of Edward Dering for all the money
+that is lying here&mdash;I see it is seven hundred and twenty-three pounds
+five shillings and threepence.&mdash;I will take care of the cheque&mdash;so.&mdash;Oh!
+you have signed Edward Dering&mdash;careless Master! Draw another&mdash;now sign
+it Edmund Gray.&mdash;That will do.&mdash;And you had better at the same time
+write a letter to the Bank asking the Manager in future to receive the
+dividends for the account of Mr. Dering. I will write the letter, and
+you shall sign it. Now&mdash;no&mdash;no&mdash;not Edward Dering&mdash;Edmund Gray. Your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>
+thoughts are wandering.&mdash;There!&mdash;Now, dear Master, you are free from
+everything that might trouble you.'</p>
+
+<p>The Master pushed back the blotting-pad with impatience, and rose from
+the chair. Elsie took possession of the signed cheques, the cheque book,
+the Bank book, and the letter. She had all&mdash;the statement in Edmund
+Gray's own handwriting-all&mdash;all&mdash;that was wanted to clear up the
+business from the beginning to the end. She put everything together in
+her handbag. She glanced at her companion: she perceived that his face
+was troubled. 'I wish,' he said fretfully, 'that you had not worried me
+with those questions about the past. They disturb me. The current of my
+thoughts is checked. I am full of Dering and his office and his
+safe&mdash;his safe&mdash;and all&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie trembled. His face was changing&mdash;in a minute he would have
+returned to Mr. Dering, and she would have had to explain. 'Master,' she
+cried, laying her hand upon his arm, 'think. We are going to the Hall of
+Science&mdash;your Hall of Science&mdash;yours. The people are waiting for their
+Prophet. You are to address them. To-night you must surpass yourself,
+because there are strangers coming. Tell us&mdash;once again&mdash;all over
+again&mdash;of that world where there is no crime, no suffering, no iniquity,
+no sin, no sorrow&mdash;where there are no poor creatures deprived by a cruel
+social order of liberty, of leisure, of comfort, of virtue, of
+everything&mdash;poor wretches born only to toil and to endure. Think of
+them. Speak for them. Plan for them. Make our hearts burn within us for
+shame and rage. Oh, Master'&mdash;for his face was troubled still and
+doubtful, as if he was hovering on the border-land between himself and
+his other self&mdash;'no one can speak to them like you; no one has your
+power of speech: make them feel that new world&mdash;make them see
+it&mdash;actually see it with their earthly eyes&mdash;make them feel it in their
+hearts.'</p>
+
+<p>'Child'&mdash;he sighed; his face fell back into repose&mdash;'you comfort me. I
+was falling&mdash;before you came to me I often used to fall&mdash;into a fit of
+gloom&mdash;I don't know why. Something irritates me; something jars;
+something awakens a feeling as if I ought to remember&mdash;remember&mdash;what? I
+do not know.&mdash;I am better now. Your voice, my dear, at such a moment is
+to me like the sound of David's harp to Saul. It chases away the
+shadows. Oh! I am better already. I am well. If you want to ask any
+other questions, do so. As for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> those transactions&mdash;they are perfectly
+correct in form and everything. I cannot for the life of me understand
+why Dering, who is a practical man&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind Dering, my dear Master&mdash;or those transactions. Think only of
+the world of the New Humanity. Leave the transactions and the papers to
+me. I hope that you will never find out why they were wanted, or how
+they were to be used.&mdash;Now let us start. We shall be in excellent time.'</p>
+
+<p>The Hall of Science was half full of people&mdash;the usual gathering&mdash;those
+who came every Sunday evening and took the simple feast of fraternity.
+The table was spread with the white cloth, on which were laid out the
+toast and muffins, the ham and shrimps, and bread and butter and
+watercress; and on the appearance of the Chief, the tea was brought up,
+and they all sat down. Now, it had been observed by all that since the
+adhesion of this young lady the Leader's discourses had been much more
+confident, his manner had been clearer, his points more forcibly put.
+This was because, for the first time, he had had an opportunity of
+discussing his own doctrines with a mind able to follow him. Nothing so
+valuable to a teacher of new things as a sympathetic woman for listener
+and disciple. Witness the leading example of the Prophet Mohammed. Also,
+their leader had never before been so cheerful&mdash;so hopeful&mdash;so full of
+life and youth and spring. He was young again: he talked like a young
+man, though his hair was gray. This was because he loved a woman, for
+the first time in his life: he called it paternal affection: whatever
+kind of love it was, it worked in him the same miracle that love always
+works in man&mdash;young or old&mdash;it gave him back the fire of youth.</p>
+
+<p>This evening he sat at the head of the table dispensing his simple
+hospitality with a geniality and a heartiness unknown before the arrival
+of this young lady. He talked, meantime, in the lofty vein, above the
+style and manner common to his hearers, but not above their
+comprehension; he spoke of a higher life attainable by man at his best,
+when the victory over nature should be complete, and every force should
+be subdued and made slave to man, and all diseases should be swept away,
+and the Perfect man should stand upon the earth at last, Lord and Master
+of all&mdash;Adamus Redivivus. When that time should come, there would be no
+Property, of course; everything was to be in common; but the new life
+would be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> full of love and joy; there would be long-continued youth, so
+that none should be made to rise from the feast unsatisfied; nay, it
+seemed to this Dreamer that everyone should continue at the feast as
+long as he pleased, till he was satiated and desired a change.
+Long-continued youth; all were to be young, and to keep young; the girls
+were to be beautiful and the men strong; he pronounced&mdash;he&mdash;the
+hermit&mdash;the anchorite&mdash;the celibate who knew not love&mdash;a eulogy on the
+beauty of women: and he mourned over those men who miss their share of
+love.</p>
+
+<p>The hearts of those who heard were uplifted, for this man had the
+mesmeric faculty of compelling those who heard him to feel what he
+wanted them to feel. Most of them had been accustomed to regard their
+Leader as a man of benevolent manners but austere principles. Now he was
+tender and human, full of sympathy even with those weak vessels who fall
+in love, and for the sake of love are content to be all their lives
+slaves&mdash;yea, even slaves to Property.</p>
+
+<p>After tea, the tables being cleared, the Chief pronounced his weekly
+address or sermon. It was generally a discourse on the principles, which
+all professed, of equality and the abolition of Property. To-night, he
+carried on the theme on which he had spoken at tea-time, and discoursed
+on the part which should be played by Love in the New Humanity. Never
+before had he spoken so convincingly. Never had orator an audience more
+in sympathy with him.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly after the beginning of the address, there arrived two gentlemen,
+young and well dressed, who sat down modestly just within the door and
+listened. The people turned and looked at them with interest. They were
+not quite the kind of young man peculiar to the street or to the
+quarter.</p>
+
+<p>When the lecture was over and the audience crowded together to talk
+before they separated, Elsie slipped across to the new-comers and led
+them to the lecturer. 'Master,' she said, 'this is my brother
+Athelstan.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Edmund Gray shook hands with him. 'Why, Elsie,' he said, 'your
+brother and I have met already in Gray's Inn.'</p>
+
+<p>'And this is my friend George Austin, Partner of Mr. Dering.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Austin,' said Mr. Edmund Gray, 'I am glad to meet the man who is
+about to enter into the most sacred of all bonds with one whom I venture
+to love, sir, as much as you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> yourself can do, though I love her as my
+daughter, and you love her as your bride. You will be the happiest of
+men. Take care, sir, that you deserve your happiness.'</p>
+
+<p>'This day,' said Elsie, 'you have rendered us all such a service as can
+never be acknowledged, or repaid, or forgotten. Yet we hope and pray
+that somehow you will never understand how great it is.'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2>
+
+<h3>LE CONSEIL DE FAMILLE</h3>
+
+<p>'Checkley,' said Mr. Dering on Monday morning, 'here is a note from Miss
+Elsie Arundel. She makes an appointment with me at four o'clock this
+afternoon. Keep me free for that hour. Her brother Athelstan is coming
+with her.&mdash;What's the matter, man?'</p>
+
+<p>'It's coming, then. I knew it would come,' Checkley groaned. 'It's all
+over at last.'</p>
+
+<p>'What is all over?'</p>
+
+<p>'Everything. But don't you believe it. Tell 'em it's a lie made up to
+screen themselves. They can't prove it. Nobody can prove it. I'll back
+you up. Only don't you believe it. Mind&mdash;it is a lie&mdash;a made-up lie.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know what has been the matter with you for the last day or two,
+Checkley. What am I not to believe? What is a lie? Who is making up a
+lie which cannot be proved?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! I can't say the word&mdash;I can't. It's all over at last&mdash;at last.' He
+ran out of the room and slammed the door behind him.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>'My dear mother'&mdash;Hilda drove to Pembridge Square directly after
+breakfast&mdash;'I have had a most curious letter from Elsie. What does it
+mean? She orders&mdash;she does not invite&mdash;she positively orders&mdash;Sir
+Samuel&mdash;actually orders Sir Samuel!&mdash;and myself to attend at Mr.
+Dering's office at four. We are ordered to assist, she says, at the
+demolition of the structure we have so carefully erected.&mdash;What
+structure? What does she mean? Here is the letter.'</p>
+
+<p>'I too, dear, have had a letter from her. She says that at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> four o'clock
+this afternoon all the wrongful and injurious suspicions will be cleared
+away, and that if I value the affection of my son and herself&mdash;the
+affection of herself&mdash;I must be present.&mdash;Hilda, what does this mean? I
+am very much troubled about the letter. On Saturday, she came here and
+informed me that the wedding would be held on Wednesday just as if
+nothing had happened; and she foretold that we should all be present,
+and that Athelstan would give her away&mdash;Athelstan. It is a very
+disquieting letter, because, my dear, do you think we could all of
+us&mdash;could we possibly be wrong, have been wrong from the very
+beginning&mdash;in Athelstan's case? Could Sir Samuel be wrong in George's
+case?'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear mother, it is impossible. The case, unhappily, is too clear to
+admit of any doubt. Sir Samuel, with his long experience, could not be
+wrong.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then, Hilda dear, what can Elsie mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'We have been talking about it all through breakfast. The only
+conclusion we can come to is, that there is going to be a smothering up
+of the whole business. Mr. Dering, who has been terribly put out with
+the case, must have consented to smother up the matter. We think that
+the papers have been returned with the money received on dividends and
+coupons; and that Mr. Dering has agreed to take no further proceedings.
+Now, if he would do that, Athelstan of course would come under a kind of
+Act of Indemnity; and as the notes were never used by him, but were
+returned to their owner, it becomes as easy to recognise his innocence
+as that of the other man.&mdash;Do you see?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes. But that will not make them innocent.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly not. But it makes all the difference in the world. Oh! there
+are families everywhere who have had to smother up things in order to
+escape a scandal. Well, I hope you will agree with us, and accept the
+invitation.'</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose I must.&mdash;But how about removing all the suspicions?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! that is only Elsie's enthusiastic way. She will go on, if she
+likes, believing that George had nothing to do with it. He will have
+every inducement to live honestly for the future. We can easily pretend
+to believe that Athelstan was always innocent, and we can persuade
+him&mdash;at least I hope we can persuade him&mdash;to go abroad. Sir Samuel
+kindly says that he will advance a hundred pounds in order to get rid of
+him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> Then there will be no scandal, and everybody will be satisfied. As
+for our relations with Elsie and her husband, we can arrange them
+afterwards. Perhaps they will agree to live in a distant suburb&mdash;say
+Redhill, or Chislehurst, or Walthamstow&mdash;so that there may be a good
+excuse for never having them to the house. Because&mdash;smothering or no
+smothering&mdash;I can no longer have the same feelings towards Elsie as
+before. Her obstinate infatuation for that man exasperates me only to
+think of it. Nor have I the least intention of being on intimate
+relations with a forger who has only just escaped being a convict. Sir
+Samuel entirely agrees with me.'</p>
+
+<p>The mother sighed. 'I could have wished that we were mistaken. Perhaps,
+after all, there may be something that Elsie has found out, some
+unexpected&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Say a miracle at once, my dear mother. It is just as likely to happen.'</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The first to arrive at the office in the afternoon was Elsie herself,
+carrying a handbag.</p>
+
+<p>'You were going to bring your brother, Elsie,' said Mr. Dering. 'Where
+is he? And what is your important business with me? I suppose it is
+something about this wretched forgery, which really seems destined to
+finish me off. I have heard of nothing else&mdash;I think of nothing
+else&mdash;ever since it happened.'</p>
+
+<p>'First, has anything new been discovered?'</p>
+
+<p>'I hardly know,' Mr. Dering replied wearily. 'They seem to have found
+the man Edmund Gray; but Checkley has suddenly cooled. Formerly, he
+clamoured perpetually that we must lose no time in getting a warrant for
+his arrest; he now wants to put it off and put it off. He was going on
+very strangely this morning. My dear, I sometimes think that my old
+clerk is off his head.'</p>
+
+<p>'And you yourself&mdash;have you had any return of your forgetfulness?'</p>
+
+<p>'Worse&mdash;worse.&mdash;Every day, worse. I now know when to look for a return
+of these fits. Every morning I ask myself what I did the day before.
+Always there are the same hours of forgetfulness&mdash;the morning and the
+evening. Last night, where was I? Perhaps somebody will find out for
+me&mdash;for I cannot remember.'</p>
+
+<p>'Shall I find out for you, Mr. Dering? If I were to tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> you where you
+spent the evening yesterday, would you&mdash;would you?&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'What? How can you find out?'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie bent her head. The moment had almost arrived, and she was afraid.
+She had come with the intention of clearing her brother and her lover at
+the cost of letting her guardian know that he was insane. A dreadful
+price to pay for their honour. But it had to be paid. And it must be
+done in the sight of all, so that there should be no possible margin
+left for malignity or suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>'This business,' she said, 'concerns the honour of the two men who are
+dearer to me than all the world beside. Remember that&mdash;nothing short of
+that would make me do what I have been doing&mdash;what I am now doing. Their
+honour&mdash;oh! their honour. Think what it means to them. Self-respect,
+dignity, everything: the happiness of their homes: the pride of their
+children. Compared with one man's honour, what matters another man's
+humiliation? What matters the loss of that man's self-respect? What
+matters his loss of dignity? Their honour, Mr. Dering, think of
+that&mdash;their honour!'</p>
+
+<p>He bowed his head gravely, wondering what was to follow.</p>
+
+<p>'A man's honour, as you say, Elsie, is the greatest thing in the world
+to him. Compared with that, another man's self-respect need not, I
+should say, as a general principle, be considered at all. Self-respect
+may be regained unless honour is lost.'</p>
+
+<p>'Remember that, then, Mr. Dering, when you hear what I have to say.
+Promise me to remember that. Oh! if there were a thousand reasons,
+formerly, why I would not pain you by a single word, there are ten
+thousand now&mdash;although you understand them not.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, Elsie, you are troubling your little head about trifles. You will
+not offend me whatever you say.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is so important a thing,' she went on, 'that I have asked my mother
+and sister and Sir Samuel to meet us here at four o'clock, in order that
+they, too, may hear as well as you. Athelstan is with George. They have
+one or two persons to introduce to you.'</p>
+
+<p>'All this seems to promise a meeting of some interest, and so far as one
+may judge from the preamble, of more than common importance. Well,
+Elsie, I am quite in your hands. If you and your brother between you
+will kindly produce<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> the forger and give me back my property, I shall be
+truly grateful.'</p>
+
+<p>'You shall see, Mr. Dering. But as for the gratitude&mdash;&mdash;Oh! here is Sir
+Samuel.'</p>
+
+<p>The City knight appeared, large and important. He shook hands with Elsie
+and his brother, and took up his position on the hearth-rug, behind his
+brother's chair. 'Well, Elsie,' he said, 'we are to hear something very
+important indeed, if one may judge by the tone of your letter, which was
+imperative.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very important indeed, Sir Samuel.'</p>
+
+<p>The next to arrive were Mrs. Arundel and Hilda. They wore thick veils,
+and Hilda was dressed in a kind of half-mourning. They took chairs at
+the open window, between the historic safe and the equally historic
+small table. Lastly, George and Athelstan walked in. They received no
+greetings.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering rose. 'Athelstan,' he said, 'it is eight years since you left
+us.' He held out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>'Presently, Mr. Dering,' said Athelstan. He looked round the room. His
+mother trembled, dropped her head, and put her handkerchief to her eyes,
+but said nothing. His sister looked out of window. Sir Samuel took no
+notice of him at all. Athelstan took a chair&mdash;the clients' chair&mdash;and
+placed it so as to have his mother and sister at the side. He was not
+therefore compelled to look at them across the table. He sat down, and
+remained in silence and motionless.</p>
+
+<p>The Court was now complete. Mr. Dering sat in his chair before his
+table, expectant, judicial. Sir Samuel stood behind him. Mrs. Arundel
+and Hilda, the two ladies, sat at the open window. Elsie stood opposite
+to Mr. Dering, on the other side of the table, her handbag before her.
+She looked like Counsel about to open the case for plaintiff.
+Athelstan&mdash;or plaintiff&mdash;naturally occupied the clients' chair on Mr.
+Dering's left; and George, as naturally&mdash;the other plaintiff&mdash;stood
+behind him.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, Elsie, if you please,' Mr. Dering began.</p>
+
+<p>'I shall want your clerk, Checkley, to be present, if you please.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering touched his bell. The clerk appeared. He stood before them
+like a criminal, pale and trembling. He looked at his master
+appealingly. His hands hung beside him. Yet not a word of accusation had
+been brought against him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Lord! Man alive!' cried Sir Samuel, 'what on earth has come over you?'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley shook his head sadly, but made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>'I want to ask you a question or two, Checkley,' said Elsie, quietly.
+'You have told Mr. Dering&mdash;you have told Sir Samuel&mdash;that you saw my
+brother furtively put a parcel&mdash;presumably the stolen notes&mdash;into the
+safe at the very moment when you were charging him with forgery. Now,
+consider. That was a very serious thing to say. It was a direct
+statement of fact. Before, the charge rested on suspicion alone; but
+this is fact. Consider carefully. You may have been mistaken. Any of us
+may make a mistake.'</p>
+
+<p>'It was true&mdash;Gospel truth&mdash;I see him place a parcel&mdash;along sideways&mdash;in
+the safe. The parcel we found afterwards in the safe containing all the
+notes.' The words were confident; but the manner was halting.</p>
+
+<p>'Very well. Next, you told Sir Samuel that my brother had been living in
+some low suburb of London with profligate companions, and that he had
+been even going about in rags and tatters.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I did. I told Sir Samuel what I heard. Mr. Carstone told me. You'd
+better ask him. I only told what I heard.'</p>
+
+<p>George went out, and returned, bringing with him Mr. Freddy Carstone. He
+looked round the room and stared with surprise at Mr. Dering, but said
+nothing. He had been warned to say nothing, except in answer to
+questions.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, Mr. Carstone,' Elsie asked him, 'how long is it since you met my
+brother after his return to England?'</p>
+
+<p>'About three weeks ago I met him. It was in Holborn. I invited him into
+the <i>Salutation</i> Tavern.'</p>
+
+<p>'Did you tell Mr. Checkley here anything about his way of living?'</p>
+
+<p>'I remember saying, foolishly, that he looked too respectable to have
+come from America; and I said in joke that I believed he had been in
+Camberwell all the time.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing about profligacy?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing at all.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing about rags and tatters?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly not. In fact, I knew nothing at all about Athelstan's life
+during the eight years that he has been away.'</p>
+
+<p>'Have you anything to say, Checkley? You still stick to the parcel
+story, do you? Very well, and to the Camberwell and profligacy story?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Checkley made no answer.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, then. There is another question. You made a great point about
+certain imitations of Mr. Dering's writing found in a drawer of
+Athelstan's table?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, they were there, in your brother's hand.'</p>
+
+<p>'George, you have something to say on this point.'</p>
+
+<p>'Only this. I was not long articled at that time. The table was taken
+from the room in which I sat, and placed here for some special work.
+Now, the imitations of Mr. Dering's handwriting were made by myself and
+another clerk in joke. I remember them perfectly. They were written at
+the back of a letter addressed to me.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering went to the safe and produced the bundle containing all the
+papers in the case. He unrolled the bundle and placed the contents on
+the table.</p>
+
+<p>Everybody was now serious. Lady Dering looked out of the window no
+longer. Mrs. Arundel had drawn her chair to the table.</p>
+
+<p>Elsie picked out the paper containing the imitations. 'Tell me,' she
+said, 'if you remember&mdash;mind&mdash;everybody&mdash;this bundle of papers has never
+been shown to George&mdash;tell me the name of your correspondent?'</p>
+
+<p>'It was Leonard Henryson.'</p>
+
+<p>She gave the paper to Mr. Dering. 'You see,' she said.</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer gave it to his brother, who passed it on to his wife, who
+gave it to her mother. Mrs. Arundel laid it on the table and raised her
+veil.</p>
+
+<p>'The next point,' said Elsie, 'is about Athelstan's whereabouts during
+the last eight years. One letter was received by you, Mr. Dering, four
+years ago. You have already shown it to me. Will you let me read this
+letter aloud for all to hear?' It was in the bundle with the stopped
+notes. He bowed assent&mdash;and she read it.</p>
+
+<p>'Twelve thousand pounds!' cried Sir Samuel&mdash;'twelve thousand pounds! All
+he had! Good Heavens?'</p>
+
+<p>'All he had in the world,' said Elsie. 'And all for a child who refused
+to believe that her brother could be a villain! All he had in the
+world?' Her eyes filled with tears&mdash;but she dashed them aside and went
+on.</p>
+
+<p>'He was in the States four years ago. That, I suppose, will no longer be
+denied. The next question is&mdash;when did he return to this country?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>George left the room again, and returned with a young gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>'This gentleman,' Elsie continued, 'comes from Messrs. Chenery &amp; Sons,
+bankers, of New York and London. He has brought a letter with him. Will
+you kindly let me see it, sir?&mdash;It is,' she explained, 'a letter of
+credit brought over by my brother from California. You see the
+date&mdash;June 20th of this year.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering read it, and gave it to his brother, who gave it to his wife,
+as before.</p>
+
+<p>'It says that Mr. Athelstan Arundel, one of the staff of a certain
+Californian paper, will leave New York on June the 21st by the
+<i>Shannon</i>, and that he is authorised to draw on Messrs. Chenery &amp; Sons
+for so much.&mdash;Thank you.' The young gentleman retired.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, Mr. Dering, are you satisfied that Athelstan was in America four
+years ago&mdash;that he left America two months ago, and that he was then on
+the staff of a Californian paper?'</p>
+
+<p>'There seems no reason to doubt these facts.&mdash;But'&mdash;he put his
+forefinger on the cheque payable to the order of Edmund Gray&mdash;'are we
+any nearer to the forger of this cheque?'</p>
+
+<p>'I am coming to that presently. I am going to show you all, so that
+there shall be no doubt whatever, who is the forger&mdash;the one hand&mdash;in
+the business. Wait a little.'</p>
+
+<p>Strangely enough, every eye fell upon Checkley, who now trembled and
+shook with every sign of terror.</p>
+
+<p>'Sit down, Checkley,' said his master.&mdash;'Elsie, do we want this
+gentleman any longer? His name I have not the pleasure of knowing.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! come,' said Mr. Carstone, who was nearest. 'You know my name,
+surely.'</p>
+
+<p>George warned him with a look, and he subsided into silence.</p>
+
+<p>'I think I shall want you, Mr. Carstone,' Elsie replied, 'if you will
+kindly take a chair and wait.&mdash;Now, Sir Samuel, I think I am right in
+saying that your belief in the guilt of George rested entirely on the
+supposed complicity of Athelstan. That gone, what becomes of your
+charge? Also, there is no doubt, I believe, that one hand, and one hand
+alone, has committed the whole long list of letters and forgeries. If,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>
+therefore, Athelstan could not execute the second business, how could he
+do the first? But I have more than arguments for you.'</p>
+
+<p>Sir Samuel coughed. Mrs. Arundel sighed.</p>
+
+<p>'As regards the charge against George, apart from his supposed intimacy
+with an imaginary criminal, the only suspicious thing is that he may
+have had access to the open safe. Well, Checkley also may have had
+access.&mdash;Don't be afraid, Checkley&mdash;we are not going to charge you with
+the thing at all. You are not the forger. In fact, there was a third
+person who had access to the safe.'</p>
+
+<p>She opened her handbag and took out a packet of papers.</p>
+
+<p>Then she sat down, with these in her hand, and leaning over the table,
+she looked straight and full into Mr. Dering's eyes, and began to talk
+slowly in a low and murmuring voice. And now, indeed, everybody
+understood that something very serious indeed was going to be said and
+done. At the last moment a way had occurred to Elsie. She would let them
+all see for themselves what had happened, and she would spare her
+guardian the bitter shame and pain of being exposed in the presence of
+all this company.</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Dering,' she began, 'you have strangely forgotten that you know Mr.
+Edmund Gray. How could you come to forget that? Why, it is ten years at
+least since you made his acquaintance. He knows you very well. He does
+not pretend to have forgotten you. You are his solicitor. You have the
+management of his property&mdash;his large private fortune&mdash;in your hands.
+You are his most intimate friend. It is not well to forget old friends,
+is it? You must not say that you forget Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering changed colour. His eyes expressed bewilderment. He made no
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>'You know that Edmund Gray leaves this room every evening on his way to
+Gray's Inn: you remember that. And that he comes here every morning, but
+not till eleven or twelve&mdash;two hours after the time that you yourself
+used to come. His head is always so full of his thoughts and his
+teaching, that he forgets the time between twelve and four, just as you
+forget the evening and the morning. You are both so much absorbed that
+you cannot remember each other.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering sat upright, the tips of his fingers touching. He listened at
+first gravely&mdash;though anxiously. Presently a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> remarkable change passed
+over his face; he became full of anxiety. He listened as if he was
+trying to remember; as if he was trying to understand.</p>
+
+<p>'Edmund Gray,' he said, speaking slowly. 'Yes, I remember my client
+Edmund Gray. I have a letter to write for him. What is it? Excuse me a
+moment; I must write that note for him.' He took pen and paper and
+hastily wrote a note, which Elsie took from him, read, and gave to Sir
+Samuel.</p>
+
+<p>'You want to tell the banker that Mr. Edmund Gray has returned you the
+transfers.&mdash;Yes.&mdash;Thank you. I thought you could not forget that client,
+of all others.'</p>
+
+<p>He leaned back smiling&mdash;his expression no longer anxious, but pleased
+and happy. The change transformed him. He was not Mr. Dering, but
+another.</p>
+
+<p>'Go on, child.'</p>
+
+<p>'The rooms of Gray's Inn are quiet all day long. It is a peaceful place
+for study, is it not? You sit there, your books before you, the world
+forgotten.'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite forgotten,' said Mr. Dering.</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no,' cried Checkley, springing to his feet. 'I won't have it done.
+I&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Sit down.' George pushed him back into his chair. 'Another word, and
+you leave the room.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is a peaceful day,' Elsie continued, 'that you pass&mdash;for the most
+part alone&mdash;you with your books. Sometimes you come here to call upon
+your old friend and solicitor, Mr. Dering.'</p>
+
+<p>'Sometimes,' he replied. 'We are very old friends. Though his views are
+narrow.&mdash;Where is he?' He looked about the room. 'You are all waiting to
+see him? He will be here directly. He is always here about this time.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, directly. You remember what I said to you on Sunday concerning
+certain transactions? I told you how important it was to have the exact
+truth about them.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. I remember. I wrote an account of them for you.'</p>
+
+<p>'You did. Are these papers what you wrote?'</p>
+
+<p>He looked at them for a moment. 'These are my papers,' he said. 'They
+are what I wrote at your request. They contain a perfectly true account
+of what happened.'</p>
+
+<p>'Now, before I go on, you will not mind&mdash;these people<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> here do not know
+Mr. Edmund Gray&mdash;you will not mind my asking a few persons to testify
+that you are really Mr. Edmund Gray?'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear child, ask all the world if you wish; though I do not
+understand why my identity should be doubted.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not quite all the world.&mdash;Mr. Carstone, will you tell us the name of
+this gentleman?'</p>
+
+<p>'He is Mr. Edmund Gray, my neighbour at No. 22 South Square, Gray's
+Inn.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Edmund Gray inclined his head and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>George went outside and returned, followed by a small company, who, in
+answer to Elsie, stepped forward one after the other and made answer.</p>
+
+<p>Said one: 'I am the landlord of the rooms at 22 South Square tenanted by
+Mr. Edmund Gray. He has held the rooms for ten years. This gentleman is
+Mr. Edmund Gray, my tenant.'</p>
+
+<p>Said another: 'I am a barrister, and the tenant of the rooms above those
+held by Mr. Edmund Gray. I have known him&mdash;more or less&mdash;for ten years.
+This gentleman is Mr. Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>Said a third: 'I am a commissionaire. I remember this gentleman very
+well, though it is eight years since he employed me, and only for one
+job then. I went from an hotel in Arundel Street, Strand, to a bank with
+a cheque which I was to cash for him in ten-pound notes. He gave me half
+a sovereign.'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite so,' said Mr. Edmund Gray. 'I remember you, too. It was a cheque
+for seven hundred and twenty pounds, the particulars of which you have
+in my statement, Elsie. I well remember this one-armed commissionaire.'</p>
+
+<p>And a fourth: 'I am the laundress who does for Mr. Edmund Gray. I have
+done for him for ten years. This gentleman is Mr. Edmund Gray.'</p>
+
+<p>And a fifth: 'I am a news-agent, and I have a shop at the entrance of
+Gray's Inn. This gentleman is Mr. Edmund Gray, of 22 South Square. I
+have known him in the Inn for ten years.'</p>
+
+<p>To each in turn Mr. Dering nodded with a kindly smile.</p>
+
+<p>'Athelstan,' said Elsie, 'will you tell us when and where you have met
+Mr. Edmund Gray?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'I met him last week in Carstone's rooms on the same landing. He sat
+with us for an hour or more.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is quite true,' said Mr. Dering. 'I have had the pleasure of meeting
+Mr. Arundel on that occasion.'</p>
+
+<p>'I also saw him,' Athelstan continued, 'at a small Lecture Hall at
+Kentish Town on Sunday evening&mdash;yesterday.'</p>
+
+<p>'To complete the evidence,' said Elsie, 'I have myself spent many hours
+almost daily with Mr. Edmund Gray during the last fortnight or so.&mdash;Is
+not that true, dear Master?'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite true, my Scholar.'</p>
+
+<p>'Brother&mdash;brother'&mdash;Sir Samuel touched his arm&mdash;'I implore you&mdash;rouse
+yourself. Shake off this fancy.'</p>
+
+<p>'Let him alone, Sir Samuel,' said George&mdash;'let him alone. We have not
+done with him yet.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' cried Mrs. Arundel, who had now left her seat and was leaning
+over the table, following what was said with breathless interest&mdash;'let
+us finish out this comedy or tragedy&mdash;as the case may be. Let no one
+interrupt.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have also met you, sir'&mdash;Mr. Dering addressed Checkley, who only
+groaned and shook. 'It was outside a tavern. You took me in and offered
+me a drink.'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley shook his head, either in sadness or in denial&mdash;but replied
+not, and at the thought of offering Mr. Dering a drink, everybody
+laughed, which was a relief.</p>
+
+<p>'Dear Master,' Elsie went on in her soft voice, 'I am so glad that you
+remember all these things. It makes one's task so much easier. Why, your
+memory is as strong as ever, in spite of all your work.&mdash;Now, I am going
+to read the two statements you wrote down yesterday afternoon. Then you
+may recall anything else you might like to add. Remember, that as
+regards this first affair, the cheque for seven hundred and twenty
+pounds, my brother was charged, on suspicion only, with having forged
+it. Now listen.' She read the brief statement which you have already
+seen concerning the business of the first cheque. 'That is your history
+of the affair.'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite so. Dering drew the cheque at my request. I cashed it. I found
+that I had no need of the notes, and I returned them. That is very
+simple.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is all so simple that nobody ever guessed it before.&mdash;Now we come to
+the transfers made in the spring of the present year. You wrote a second
+statement regarding them. I will read that as well. Please listen very
+carefully.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She read the other statement, which you have also seen already. She read
+it very slowly, so that there should be no mistake possible. During the
+reading of these documents Sir Samuel's face expressed every possible
+shade of surprise. Mrs. Arundel, leaning over the table, followed every
+line. Hilda wept&mdash;her head gracefully inclined over her
+pocket-handkerchief, as if it was an urn.</p>
+
+<p>'This is your account of the business?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly. There is nothing more to be added. It is a plain statement
+of the facts. I do not understand how they could be in any way doubted
+or misrepresented.'</p>
+
+<p>'Would you, Sir Samuel, like to ask Mr. Edmund Gray any question?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't understand. He says that Mr. Dering wrote a letter for him.'</p>
+
+<p>Elsie showed him the letter they had seen Mr. Dering write, which he was
+passing from one to the other.</p>
+
+<p>'Where are the transfers?' Sir Samuel went on. 'He says they were placed
+by himself in the safe.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Edmund Gray rose and walked to the safe. He laid his hands upon a
+packet and took it out. 'These are the papers,' he said.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Samuel opened the roll and looked them over. 'They seem all right,'
+he said. 'This is very wonderful.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wonderful&mdash;and sad&mdash;most lamentable,' whispered Lady Dering.</p>
+
+<p>'Wonderful, indeed!' Mrs. Arundel echoed. 'Most wonderful! most
+unexpected!'</p>
+
+<p>'A moment more, and I have done.' Elsie again took up the tale. 'Here is
+a cheque to the order of Mr. Dering signed by Mr. Edmund Gray for the
+whole of the money lying in his name at the Bank.&mdash;You agree, Master,
+that it is best for the future that all your affairs should be in the
+hands of your solicitor?'</p>
+
+<p>'I quite agree.'</p>
+
+<p>'Here is a letter to the manager of the Bank, requesting him to pay over
+Edmund Gray's dividends to the account of Mr. Dering.&mdash;And now I think I
+have proved my case. Here in the safe were the ten-pound notes received
+by Mr. Edmund Gray, and placed there by him. Here were the transfers and
+certificates placed there by him: you have heard half-a-dozen people
+testify to the fact that you have Edmund Gray before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> you. His statement
+of the business has been read to you. It shows, what no other theory of
+the case could show, how the thing was really done. Lastly, it shows the
+absolute and complete innocence of my brother and of George.&mdash;Have you
+anything more to say, Sir Samuel?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing&mdash;except that I was misled by a statement concerning a
+profligate life among low companions, without which no suspicion could
+have fallen upon either of you gentlemen. It was'&mdash;he pointed to the
+unhappy Checkley-'a vile and malignant falsehood. Do you hear, sir? Vile
+and malignant. It only remains for us all to make such reparation as we
+may&mdash;nothing would suffice, I know, but such reparation as we can&mdash;by
+the expression of the shame and regret that we all feel.'</p>
+
+<p>'Athelstan,' said his mother, 'what can I say? Oh! what can I say?'</p>
+
+<p>Athelstan rose&mdash;during the long business he had sat motionless in the
+clients' chair, his head in his hand. Now he rose and stepped over to
+his mother. 'Hush!' he said. 'Not a word. It is all forgotten&mdash;all
+forgiven.'</p>
+
+<p>But Hilda sank upon her knees and caught his hands.</p>
+
+<p>'George,' said Sir Samuel, 'forgive me. The case looked black against
+you at one time. It did indeed. Forgive me.' He held out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was great hand-shaking, embracing, and many tears. As for
+Checkley, he crept out and vanished in the retreat of his own room. 'It
+is all over,' he murmured&mdash;'all over. I've lost four hundred pounds a
+year. That's gone. All over&mdash;all over!'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Edmund Gray looked on this happy scene of family reconciliation with
+benevolence and smiles.</p>
+
+<p>Family reconciliations must not be prolonged; you cannot sit over a
+family reconciliation as over a bottle of port. It must be quickly
+despatched. Sir Samuel whispered to Hilda that they had better go.</p>
+
+<p>'Come,' said Lady Dering. 'We will all meet again this evening at
+Pembridge Square&mdash;and to-morrow evening&mdash;and on Wednesday
+afternoon.&mdash;Elsie, you are a witch and a sorceress and a wise woman. You
+said that Athelstan should give you away, and he will.&mdash;Brother, come
+with us. Leave Elsie to George.&mdash;Oh! how handsome you are looking, my
+poor ill-used brother. Try to forgive us if you can.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She turned to Mr. Edmund Gray. 'Sir,' she said, 'we ought to be very
+grateful to you&mdash;indeed, we are&mdash;for enabling us to clear away the
+odious cloud of suspicion which had rolled over our heads. It was very
+good of you to draw out those statements for my sister. But I do think
+that if Mr. Dering had told his old friends about you&mdash;about Mr. Edmund
+Gray&mdash;we should have been spared a great deal of trouble and unnecessary
+shame.&mdash;Good-day, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>Sir Samuel lingered a moment. He looked as if he would appeal to Mr.
+Edmund Gray as to a brother. 'Don't speak to him,' Elsie whispered. 'Let
+him alone. He will become himself again presently. Let him alone.'</p>
+
+<p>So he went out, and the door was shut, and Edmund Gray was left alone
+with George and the Scholar.</p>
+
+<p>'My Master'&mdash;Elsie sat down beside him&mdash;'I fear you have been
+interrupted. But indeed it was necessary. Don't ask why. Things get into
+a muddle sometimes, don't they? You have gathered something of the
+trouble, too. Now that is all over&mdash;past and gone.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am glad for your sake, child.'</p>
+
+<p>'Master&mdash;dear Master&mdash;I have a confession to make. When I found out who
+you were&mdash;I mean what manner of man you were&mdash;my only thought at first
+was to coax you and wheedle you and flatter you till you gave me exactly
+the information that I wanted. I confess it. That was my only purpose.
+Nay&mdash;more&mdash;for the sake of my lover and my brother I would do it again.
+Well&mdash;I found that the only way to win your confidence was to pretend to
+be your Scholar and to believe all you taught. So I pretended. So I won
+your confidence. So I obtained all I wanted. So I have made it
+impossible for even the most malignant creature in the world to pretend
+that these two men had anything to do with what they called a forgery.
+But&mdash;believe me, dear Master&mdash;while I pretended, I was punished, because
+my pretence is turned to certainty.'</p>
+
+<p>'Child, I knew it. You could not pretend&mdash;no woman could pretend so as
+to deceive me on a point so simple.'</p>
+
+<p>'Dear Master, you do not know the possibilities of feminine craft. But I
+pretend no more. Oh! I care not how you make your attempt, whether you
+destroy Property or not. Mr. Dering says that Property is
+Civilisation&mdash;but I don't care. To me it is enough to dream&mdash;to
+know&mdash;that there is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> an Earthly Paradise possible, if only men will
+think so and will keep it before their eyes, though it be as far off as
+the blue hills. It is beautiful only to think of it; the soul is lifted
+up only to think that there is such a place. Keep the eyes of your
+people on this glorious place, dear Master: make it impossible for
+them to forget it or to let it go out of their sight. Then,
+half-unconsciously, they will be running, dragging each other, forcing
+each other&mdash;exhorting each other to hurry along the dusty road which
+leads to that Earthly Paradise with its Four-square City of the Jasper
+wall. Preach about it, Master. Write about it. Make all men talk about
+it and think about it.'</p>
+
+<p>She threw her arms round his neck and kissed him.</p>
+
+<p>'Master, we shall be away for a month or two. Then we shall come back,
+and I shall sit at your feet again. You shall come and stay with us. We
+will give you love, and you shall give us hope. I have made my
+confession. Forgive me.'</p>
+
+<p>They left him sitting alone. Presently he arose, put all the papers back
+in the safe, and walked slowly away&mdash;to Gray's Inn.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning when he opened his letters he found one marked 'Private.'
+It was from Sir Samuel.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'<span class="smcap">Dear Edward</span>,' it said&mdash;'We are all very glad to tell you
+that the business of the shares and certificates is now
+completely cleared up. Checkley is not in any way concerned
+in it&mdash;nor is George Austin. And I am happy to say there is
+a complete solution of the former mystery which entirely
+clears Hilda's brother. Under these circumstances, we are
+agreed that it is best for you not to trouble yourself about
+any further investigations. You will find in the safe the
+transfers, a cheque to yourself of all the money received by
+Edmund Gray, and an order in the Bank concerning the
+dividends. You have been the victim of a very remarkable
+hallucination. I need not explain further. Mr. Edmund Gray,
+however, is undoubtedly insane. I hear, and have myself
+observed, that you have been greatly disturbed and
+distressed by these mysterious events. Now that they are
+settled finally&mdash;I may say that only a happy chance set us
+on the right track&mdash;we all hope that you will be satisfied
+with our assurance, and that you will not trouble yourself
+any more in the matter.&mdash;Your affectionate brother,</p></div>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;">'<span class="smcap">Samuel Dering</span>.'</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering, after reading this letter, got up and looked in the safe,
+where he found the papers referred to. He rang the bell. 'Checkley, who
+has been at my safe?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nobody but you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't tell lies. Who put those papers in the safe?'</p>
+
+<p>'They must have been put there yesterday&mdash;you were in the room.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yesterday&mdash;what happened yesterday?'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley was silent.</p>
+
+<p>'Who was here yesterday?&mdash;Go on, Checkley. Don't be afraid.'</p>
+
+<p>'Sir Samuel was here&mdash;and Lady Dering&mdash;and Mrs. Arundel&mdash;and Miss
+Elsie&mdash;and your Partner&mdash;and Mr. Athelstan. Two or three more came in
+and went away.'</p>
+
+<p>'That will do. You need tell me no more. I don't want to know the
+particulars.&mdash;Checkley, my day's work is done. I have thought so for
+some time past. Now I am certain, I shall retire.'</p>
+
+<p>'No&mdash;no,' cried Checkley, the tears running down his face. 'Not to
+retire&mdash;after all these years&mdash;not to retire.'</p>
+
+<p>'I know now the meaning of my fits of forgetfulness. I have feared and
+suspected it for a long time. While I am lost to myself, I am going
+about the world, doing I know not what. And I will not ask. I may be
+this Edmund Gray who preaches Socialism and gives me his precious
+tracts. I may be some one else. I say, Checkley, that I know now what
+has happened to me. Deny it if you can&mdash;if you can, I say.'</p>
+
+<p>Checkley did not offer any denial. He hung his head. 'This is the
+meaning of Elsie's strange hints and queer protestations. Half my time I
+am a madman&mdash;a madman.&mdash;Checkley, ask Mr. Austin to come to me at once.
+My day is done.' He closed his open blotting-pad and placed the unopened
+letters beside it. Then he rose and pushed back his chair&mdash;the chair in
+which he had sat for fifty years and more. 'My day is done&mdash;my day is
+done.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE LAST</h3>
+
+<p>Mr. Dering left his office, went back to Gray's Inn, and sat down again
+before the Ivory Gate. Those who have once sat for an hour or two in
+this place return to it again and again and never leave it. It is, to
+begin with, the most beautiful gate ever erected. The brain and wit and
+fancy of man could never conceive such a gate, could never execute such
+a conception. It is all of pure ivory, carved with flowers such as never
+grew; curving and flowing lines leading nowhere; figures of maidens
+lovely beyond all dreams; philosophers whose wisdom reaches unto the
+Heavens; statesmen who discern the gathering forces and control the
+destinies of a nation; inventors who conquer nature; physicians who
+prolong life; ecclesiastics who convert the Carthusian cell into a bower
+of delight; poets who here find their fantasies divine; men and women in
+a work-a-day dress who wear the faces of the heavenly host.</p>
+
+<p>All the dreamers lie here, not asleep, but dreaming. Their eyes are
+open, but they do not see each other; they see these dreams. Those of
+the young who are also generous come here and dream until they grow
+older and are chained to their work and can dream no more. Men of all
+conditions come here&mdash;even the little shop-boy&mdash;even the maiden who
+cleans the knives and polishes the boots&mdash;all are here. The young Prince
+is here: the little charity boy is here: the lad whose loftiest ambition
+is that he may one day stand in the pulpit of the little Baptist village
+chapel is here: here is the undergraduate who was Captain of Eton and
+will be Senior Classic and Member of Parliament and Minister&mdash;even Prime
+Minister&mdash;and will belong to History. The poet is here, and the painter,
+and sometimes hither comes the novelist, and, but more rarely, the
+dramatist. Hither comes the musician to lift up his soul with thoughts
+that only music can give; and the singer, so that he sings more than is
+apparent from the words; and the actor, so that he puts things into the
+play<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> never dreamed by him who wrote it. Great is the power, great the
+gifts, of this noble Gate of Ivory.</p>
+
+<p>Sitting before that gate, such a dreamer as Edmund Gray receives strange
+visions. He sees clearly and near at hand the things which might be, yet
+are not, and never can be until man lays down his garb of selfishness
+and puts on the white robes of Charity. To that dreamer the Kingdom of
+Heaven, which seems to some so far off and to others impossible, so that
+they deride the name of it, is actually close at hand&mdash;with us&mdash;easy to
+enter if we only choose. He exhorts his fellows to enter with him. And
+they would follow, but they cannot because they are held back by custom
+and necessity. They must obey the laws of the multitude, and so they
+stay where they are. And when the dreamer passes away, his memory is
+quickly lost, and the brightness quickly leaves those dimly-lighted
+lives. Yet other dreamers come&mdash;every day there arises an Edmund Gray.</p>
+
+<p>Now when Edmund Gray takes the place of Edward Dering, in which guise
+does the soul, in the end, leave the earth? Are the dreams of Edmund
+Gray perhaps the logical development of the doctrines held by Edward
+Dering? Is the present stage of Individual Property&mdash;where every man
+works for himself and his household&mdash;one through which the world must
+pass before it can reach the higher level of working each for all? First
+men and women hunt, separate: they live apart in hollow trees and caves.
+Then they live together, and the man hunts for his wife and children.
+Next, they live in communities, which grow into towns and tribes and
+nations. Then men rely upon the protection of the law, and work for
+themselves again. That is our present stage: it has lasted long&mdash;very
+long. Perhaps it will break up some day: perhaps sooner than we think.
+Who knows? All things are possible&mdash;even the crash and wreck of a
+civilisation which has taken thousands of years to build up. And upon it
+may come&mdash;one knows not&mdash;that other stage which now belongs to the
+dreamer before the Ivory Gate.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The wedding was held then, as Elsie said it should be, shorn of none of
+its splendours, and relieved of the cloud which had hung over them so
+long and threatened them so gloomily. Athelstan the Exile&mdash;Athelstan the
+Ne'er-do-well&mdash;Athelstan the Profligate&mdash;Athelstan the Resident of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span>
+Camberwell&mdash;Athelstan the Smirched and Soiled&mdash;stood beside the altar,
+tall and gallant, and gave away the bride for all the world to
+see&mdash;nobody in the least ashamed of him. There was not any breath of
+scandal left. Here he was, returned from his travels, a tall and proper
+man, dressed in broadcloth, perhaps with money in purse, prosperous and
+successful in the sight of all. His mother gazed upon him when she
+should have been looking at the bride or into her Prayer Book. Her eyes
+were red, but then a mother is allowed a tear or two when her daughter
+leaves the nest. And as to those who had whispered words about family
+jars, quarrels and estrangements, or had spoken against the fair fame of
+the groom, they were now as mute as mice.</p>
+
+<p>All the richer members of the House of Arundel&mdash;the City Arundels&mdash;were
+present. One of them&mdash;chief partner in a leading firm of
+accountants&mdash;afterwards computed, for the greater increase of the family
+glory, how many hundreds of thousands of pounds were gathered together
+at one moment beneath that sacred roof. He counted the members, and made
+that little addition, during the performance of the ceremony. Those of
+the Austins who were not disgracefully poor&mdash;there are some branches of
+the family, I believe, pretty low down&mdash;were also present. And the
+company went to Pembridge Square after the service, gazed admiringly at
+the wedding presents, and drank the health of the bride and bridegroom,
+and gathered with cousinly curiosity round the returned Prodigal. But
+they knew nothing&mdash;mind you&mdash;of his connection with Camberwell. And
+nothing about his supposed complicity in the Edmund Gray business. There
+had been, happily, no scandal.</p>
+
+<p>Among the company in the church was Mr. Dering. He stood tall and erect,
+his coat buttoned, his face keen and hard, the family lawyer stamped by
+nature and long custom.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, when the service was about half way through, a change came
+over him. His face relaxed: the lines curved just a little laterally,
+the austerity vanished, his eyes brightened. He took off his gloves
+furtively and opened his coat. He was Edmund Gray. In that capacity he
+afterwards drank to the bride and wished her happiness. And he walked
+all the way from Pembridge Square to South Square, Gray's Inn.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>I see in the future an old man growing feeble: he leans<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> upon the arm of
+a girl whom he calls his Scholar, his disciple, and his child. His face
+is serene: he is perfectly happy: the Advent of that Kingdom whose
+glories he preaches is very nigh at hand. He lives in the house of his
+disciple: he has forgotten the very existence of his lawyer: he goes no
+more to Lincoln's Inn: always he is lying, night and day, before that
+miracle of carven work in Ivory. There he watches&mdash;it is his Vision&mdash;the
+long procession of those who work and sing at their work and are happy,
+work they ever so hard, because they work each for all and all for each.
+And there is no more sorrow or crying and no more pain. What hath the
+Gate of Horn&mdash;through which is allowed nothing but what is
+true&mdash;bitterly true&mdash;absolutely true&mdash;nakedly, coldly, shiveringly
+true&mdash;to show in comparison with this? A crowd trampling upon each
+other: men who enslave and rob each other: men and women and children
+lying in misery&mdash;men and women and children starving.&mdash;Let us fly, my
+brothers&mdash;let us swiftly fly&mdash;let us hasten&mdash;to the Gate of Ivory.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><i>OPINIONS OF THE PRESS</i></h3>
+
+<h4>ON</h4>
+
+<h2>THE IVORY GATE.</h2>
+
+<h3>By WALTER BESANT.</h3>
+
+<p>'The novel shows us throughout that Mr. Besant is one of those
+fortunates who find fresh material.... Mr. Besant is a popular novelist,
+but he shows here an artist's appreciation of whimsical contrast, and an
+artist's skill in the delineation of character.... We are inclined to
+think "The Ivory Gate" worthy of the past reputation of Mr. Besant, and
+indicative of future development.'&mdash;<span class="smcap">Speaker</span>.</p>
+
+<p>'It would be impossible to discuss at length the many and great merits
+of "The Ivory Gate" without telling the story, and it is certainly a
+story to be read, not to be told.... Our interest in the story never
+flags for a moment. Neither in the "Golden Butterfly," nor "The Chaplain
+of the Fleet," are there any characters to equal the city knight, Sir
+Samuel Dering, and his wife Hilda, or the old clerk Checkley.'&mdash;<span class="smcap">Saturday
+Review</span>.</p>
+
+<p>'The writing in "The Ivory Gate" has that nameless charm which belongs
+to everything that comes from Mr. Besant's pen.'&mdash;<span class="smcap">National Review</span>.</p>
+
+<p>'The complications arising from the situation are cleverly worked out,
+with all the love of detail and the dramatic skill which always
+distinguishes Mr. Besant's workmanship.'&mdash;<span class="smcap">Times</span>.</p>
+
+<p>'The subject of the novel is a strong one, and it might have been made
+most powerful; but the dreams that come to Mr. Dering through the Ivory
+Gate are such happy ones, and he himself is so much more lovable
+dreaming than awake, that the pathos of the situation does not weigh too
+heavily upon the reader.'&mdash;<span class="smcap">Guardian</span>.</p>
+
+<p>'A story told in the author's happiest manner.... The spirit which
+pervades the story is akin to that which pervades "All Sorts and
+Conditions of Men."... There is a good deal of the feeling of Dickens in
+this pleasantly interesting story.'&mdash;<span class="smcap">Sporting Life</span>.</p>
+
+<p>'The story is interesting, imaginative, abounding in matter for thought,
+and is in Mr. Besant's happiest style.'&mdash;<span class="smcap">Daily News</span>.</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Besant's story is a solid boon, a fantasy in which he half escapes
+from the commonplace veracities of existence, and yet keeps his readers'
+feet on the London flagstones throughout.'&mdash;<span class="smcap">Athen&aelig;um</span>.</p>
+
+<p>'A delightful work.... A charming tale, full of life and interest.... As
+a story it is in all respects excellent. It is worked out with skill and
+power. There are many very fine passages. "The Ivory Gate" is charming
+in its originality, and in the simplicity and force with which the plot
+is developed.'&mdash;<span class="smcap">Scotsman</span>.</p>
+
+<p>'There is a good deal that is pleasant in "The Ivory Gate."... Both hero
+and heroine are admirable.'&mdash;<span class="smcap">Daily Chronicle</span>.</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Besant has hit on rather a felicitous subject, which is very well
+wrought out&mdash;&mdash;We venture to predict that hours spent over "The Ivory
+Gate" will be pleasant.'&mdash;<span class="smcap">Scottish Leader</span>.</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Besant illustrates a very curious phase of madness; he preaches a
+highly poetical kind of socialism, and he gives us a clear and
+attractive picture of ordinary English life.... The story is full of
+interesting characters.'&mdash;<span class="smcap">Glasgow Herald</span>.</p>
+
+<p>'The story is cleverly planned and thoroughly readable from beginning to
+end.'&mdash;<span class="smcap">Leeds Mercury</span>.</p>
+
+<p>'"The Ivory Gate" is a novel of considerable interest, and it is a story
+that is told in Mr. Besant's best style.'&mdash;<span class="smcap">Pall Mall Gazette</span>.</p>
+
+<p>'The story is cleverly told and effective.'&mdash;<span class="smcap">Morning Post</span>.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h4>[<i>October, 1892</i>]</h4>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
+<img src="images/ill_03.jpg" width="700" height="221" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>A List of Books</h2>
+
+<h3>PUBLISHED BY</h3>
+
+<h1>CHATTO &amp; WINDUS,</h1>
+
+<h4>214, Piccadilly, London, W.</h4>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Sold by all Booksellers, or sent post-free for the published price by
+the Publishers.</i></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ABOUT.&mdash;THE FELLAH:</b> An Egyptian Novel. By <span class="smcap">Edmond About</span>. Translated by
+<span class="smcap">Sir Randal Roberts</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ADAMS (W. DAVENPORT), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A DICTIONARY OF THE DRAMA.</b> Being a comprehensive Guide to
+the Plays, Playwrights, Players, and Playhouses of the
+United Kingdom and America. Crown 8vo half-bound, <b>12s. 6d.</b>
+[<i>Preparing.</i>]</p>
+
+<p><b>QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES.</b> Selected by <span class="smcap">W. D. Adams</span>. Post 8vo,
+cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>AGONY COLUMN (THE) OF "THE TIMES,"</b> from 1800 to 1870. Edited, with an
+Introduction, by <span class="smcap">Alice Clay</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>AIDE (HAMILTON), WORKS BY.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>CARR OF CARRLYON.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CONFIDENCES.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ALBERT.&mdash;BROOKE FINCHLEY'S DAUGHTER.</b> By <span class="smcap">Mary Albert</span>. Post 8vo, picture
+boards, <b>2s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ALDEN.&mdash;A LOST SOUL.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. L. Alden</span>. Fcap. 8vo, cl. bds., <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ALEXANDER (MRS.), NOVELS BY.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW?</b></p>
+
+<p><b>VALERIE'S FATE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ALLEN (F. M.).&mdash;GREEN AS GRASS.</b> By <span class="smcap">F. M. Allen</span>, Author of "Through Green
+Glasses." With a Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Joseph Smyth</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+<b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ALLEN (GRANT), WORKS BY.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE EVOLUTIONIST AT LARGE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>COLIN CLOUT'S CALENDAR.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>PHILISTIA.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BABYLON.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>STRANGE STORIES.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BECKONING HAND.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FOR MAIMIE'S SAKE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>IN ALL SHADES.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE DEVIL'S DIE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THIS MORTAL COIL.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE TENTS OF SHEM.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE GREAT TABOO.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>DUMARESQ'S DAUGHTER.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE DUCHESS OF POWYSLAND.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BLOOD ROYAL.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>AMERICAN LITERATURE, A LIBRARY OF,</b> from the Earliest Settlement to the
+Present Time. Compiled and Edited by <span class="smcap">Edmund Clarence Stedman</span> and <span class="smcap">Ellen
+Mackay Hutchinson</span>. Eleven Vols., royal 8vo, cloth extra, <b>&pound;6 12s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ARCHITECTURAL STYLES. A HANDBOOK OF</b>. By <span class="smcap">A. Rosengarten</span>. Translated by <span class="smcap">W.
+Collett-Sandars</span>. With 639 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ART (THE) OF AMUSING:</b> A Collection of Graceful Arts, Games, Tricks,
+Puzzles, and Charades. By <span class="smcap">Frank Bellew</span>. 300 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex.,
+<b>4s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ARNOLD (EDWIN LESTER), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE WONDERFUL ADVENTURES OF PHRA THE PH&OElig;NICIAN.</b> With
+Introduction by Sir <span class="smcap">Edwin Arnold</span>, and 12 Illusts. by <span class="smcap">H. M.
+Paget</span>. Cr. 8vo, cl., <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE CONSTABLE OF ST. NICHOLAS.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>3s. 6d.</b>
+[<i>Shortly.</i>]</p>
+
+<p><b>BIRD LIFE IN ENGLAND.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ARTEMUS WARD'S WORKS:</b> The Works of <span class="smcap">Charles Farrer Browne</span>, better known
+as <span class="smcap">Artemus Ward</span>. With Portrait and Facsimile. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+<b>7s. 6d.</b>&mdash;Also a <span class="smcap">Popular Edition</span>, post 8vo, picture boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE GENIAL SHOWMAN:</b> Life and Adventures of <span class="smcap">Artemus Ward</span>. By
+<span class="smcap">Edward P. Hingston</span>. With a Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ASHTON (JOHN), WORKS BY.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>HISTORY OF THE CHAP-BOOKS OF THE 18th CENTURY.</b> With 334
+Illusts.</p>
+
+<p><b>SOCIAL LIFE IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE.</b> With 85
+Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>HUMOUR, WIT, AND SATIRE OF SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.</b> With 82
+Illusts.</p>
+
+<p><b>ENGLISH CARICATURE AND SATIRE ON NAPOLEON THE FIRST.</b> 115
+Illusts.</p>
+
+<p><b>MODERN STREET BALLADS.</b> With 57 Illustrations.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BACTERIA.-A SYNOPSIS OF THE BACTERIA AND YEAST FUNGI AND ALLIED SPECIES.</b>
+By <span class="smcap">W. B. Grove</span>, B.A. With 87 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s.
+6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BARDSLEY (REV. C. W.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ENGLISH SURNAMES:</b> Their Sources and Significations. Cr. 8vo,
+cloth, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CURIOSITIES OF PURITAN NOMENCLATURE.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+<b>6s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BARING GOULD (S.,</b> Author of "John Herring," &amp;c.), <b>NOVELS BY.</b> Crown 8vo,
+cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>RED SPIDER.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>EVE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BARRETT (FRANK,</b> Author of "Lady Biddy Fane,") <b>NOVELS BY.</b> Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each; cloth. <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>FETTERED FOR LIFE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE SIN OF OLGA ZASSOULICH.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FOLLY MORRISON.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>HONEST DAVIE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LIEUT. BARNABAS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>JOHN FORD;</b> and <b>HIS HELPMATE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A RECOILING VENGEANCE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FOUND GUILTY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FOR LOVE AND HONOUR.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BEACONSFIELD, LORD:</b> A Biography. By <span class="smcap">T. P. O'Connor</span>, M.P. Sixth Edition,
+with an Introduction. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BEAUCHAMP.&mdash;GRANTLEY GRANGE:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Shelsley Beauchamp</span>. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BEAUTIFUL PICTURES BY BRITISH ARTISTS:</b> A Gathering of Favourites from
+our Picture Galleries, beautifully engraved on Steel. With Notices of
+the Artists by <span class="smcap">Sydney Armytage</span>, M.A. Imperial 4to. cloth extra, gilt
+edges, <b>21s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BECHSTEIN.&mdash;AS PRETTY AS SEVEN,</b> and other German Stories. Collected by
+<span class="smcap">Ludwig Bechstein</span>. With Additional Tales by the Brothers <span class="smcap">Grimm</span>, and 98
+Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Richter</span>. Square 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s. 6d.</b>; gilt edges,
+<b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BEERBOHM.&mdash;WANDERINGS IN PATAGONIA;</b> or, Life among the Ostrich Hunters.
+By <span class="smcap">Julius Beerbohm</span>. With Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BENNETT (W. C., LL.D.), WORKS BY.</b> Post 8vo, cloth limp. <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A BALLAD HISTORY OF ENGLAND.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SONGS FOR SAILORS.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BESANT (WALTER), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b> each; cl.
+limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.</b> With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Fred.
+Barnard</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE CAPTAINS' ROOM,</b> &amp;c. With Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">E. J. Wheeler</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>ALL IN A GARDEN FAIR.</b> With 6 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Harry Furniss</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>DOROTHY FORSTER.</b> With Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Charles Green</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>UNCLE JACK,</b> and other Stories.</p>
+
+<p><b>CHILDREN OF GIBEON.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE WORLD WENT VERY WELL THEN.</b> With 12 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">A.
+Forestier</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>HERR PAULUS:</b> His Rise, his Greatness, and his Fall.</p>
+
+<p><b>FOR FAITH AND FREEDOM.</b> With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">A. Forestier</span>
+and <span class="smcap">F. Waddy</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>TO CALL HER MINE,</b> &amp;c. With 9 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">A. Forestier</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE BELL OF ST. PAUL'S.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE HOLY ROSE,</b> &amp;c. With Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">F. Barnard</span>.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ARMOREL OF LYONESSE:</b> A Romance of To-day. With 12 Illusts.
+by <span class="smcap">F. Barnard</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>ST. KATHERINE'S BY THE TOWER.</b> With 12 page Illustrations by
+<span class="smcap">C. Green</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>VERBENA CAMELLIA STEPHANOTIS,</b> &amp;c. Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Gordon
+Browne</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>FIFTY YEARS AGO.</b> With 144 Plates and Woodcuts. Cheaper
+Edition, Revised, with a New Preface, &amp;c. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFERIES.</b> With Portrait. Cr. 8vo, cl.
+extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE ART OF FICTION.</b> Demy 8vo, <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LONDON.</b> With 124 Illustrations. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>18s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE IVORY GATE;</b> A Novel. Three Vols., crown 8vo,</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BESANT (WALTER) AND JAMES RICE, NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b> each; cl.
+limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>READY-MONEY MORTIBOY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MY LITTLE GIRL.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WITH HARP AND CROWN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THIS SON OF VULCAN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE GOLDEN BUTTERFLY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE MONKS OF THELEMA.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BY CELIA'S ARBOUR.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE SEAMY SIDE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE CASE OF MR. LUCRAFT,</b> &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p><b>'TWAS IN TRAFALGAR'S BAY</b>, &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE TEN YEARS' TENANT,</b> &amp;c.</p></div>
+
+<p>There is also a LIBRARY EDITION of the above Twelve Volumes, handsomely
+set in new type, on a large crown 8vo page, and bound in cloth extra,
+<b>6s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BEWICK (THOMAS) AND HIS PUPILS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Austin Dobson</span>. With 95 Illustrations.
+Square 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BIERCE.&mdash;IN THE MIDST OF LIFE:</b> Tales of Soldiers and Civilians. By
+<span class="smcap">Ambrose Bierce</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BLACKBURN'S (HENRY) ART HANDBOOKS.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ACADEMY NOTES,</b> separate years, from 1875-1887, 1889-1891,
+each <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ACADEMY NOTES, 1892.</b> With Illustrations. <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ACADEMY NOTES, 1875-79.</b> Complete in One Vol., with 600
+Illusts. Cloth limp, 6s.</p>
+
+<p><b>ACADEMY NOTES, 1880-84.</b> Complete in One Vol. with 700
+Illusts. Cloth limp, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>GROSVENOR NOTES, 1877.</b> <b>6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>GROSVENOR NOTES,</b> separate years, from <b>1878</b> to <b>1890</b>, each <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>GROSVENOR NOTES, Vol. I., 1877-82.</b> With 300 illusts. Demy
+8vo, cloth limp, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>GROSVENOR NOTES, Vol. II., 1883-87.</b> With 300 Illusts. Demy
+8vo, cloth limp, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE NEW GALLERY, 1888-1891.</b> With numerous Illustrations,
+each <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE NEW GALLERY, 1892.</b> With Illustrations. <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE NEW GALLERY, Vol. I., 1888-1892.</b> With 250 Illusts. Demy
+8vo, cloth, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ENGLISH PICTURES AT THE NATIONAL GALLERY.</b> 114 Illustrations.
+<b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>OLD MASTERS AT THE NATIONAL GALLERY.</b> 128 Illustrations. <b>1s.
+6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE TO THE NATIONAL GALLERY.</b> 242 Illusts.
+cl., <b>3s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE PARIS SALON, 1892.</b> With Facsimile Sketches. <b>3s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE PARIS SOCIETY OF FINE ARTS, 1892.</b> With Sketches. <b>3s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BLAKE (WILLIAM):</b> India-proof Etchings from his Works by <span class="smcap">William Bell
+Scott</span>. With descriptive Text. Folio, half-bound boards, <b>21s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BLIND (MATHILDE),</b> Poems by. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE ASCENT OF MAN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>DRAMAS IN MINIATURE.</b> With a Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Ford Madox
+Brown</span>.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BOURNE (H. R. FOX), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ENGLISH MERCHANTS:</b> Memoirs in Illustration of the Progress
+of British Commerce. With numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo,
+cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ENGLISH NEWSPAPERS:</b> The History of Journalism. Two Vols.,
+demy 8vo, cl., <b>25s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE OTHER SIDE OF THE EMIN PASHA RELIEF EXPEDITION.</b> Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BOWERS.&mdash;LEAVES FROM A HUNTING JOURNAL.</b> By <span class="smcap">George Bowers</span>. Oblong folio,
+half-bound, <b>21s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BOYLE (FREDERICK), WORKS BY.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>CHRONICLES OF NO-MAN'S LAND.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CAMP NOTES.</b></p></div>
+
+<p><b>SAVAGE LIFE.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, picture boards,
+<b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BRAND'S OBSERVATIONS ON POPULAR ANTIQUITIES;</b> chiefly illustrating the
+Origin of our Vulgar Customs, Ceremonies, and Superstitions. With the
+Additions of Sir <span class="smcap">Henry Ellis</span>, and Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra,
+<b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BREWER (REV. DR.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE READER'S HANDBOOK OF ALLUSIONS, REFERENCES, PLOTS, AND
+STORIES.</b> Fifteenth Thousand. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>AUTHORS AND THEIR WORKS, WITH THE DATES:</b> Being the
+Appendices to "The Reader's Handbook," separately printed.
+Crown 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A DICTIONARY OF MIRACLES.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BREWSTER (SIR DAVID), WORKS BY.</b> Post 8vo cl. ex. <b>4s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>MORE WORLDS THAN ONE:</b> Creed of Philosopher and Hope of
+Christian. Plates.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE MARTYRS OF SCIENCE:</b> <span class="smcap">Galileo</span>, <span class="smcap">Tycho Brahe</span>, and <span class="smcap">Kepler</span>.
+With Portraits.</p>
+
+<p><b>LETTERS ON NATURAL MAGIC.</b> With numerous Illustrations.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BRILLAT-SAVARIN.&mdash;GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART.</b> By <span class="smcap">Brillat-Savarin</span>.
+Translated by <span class="smcap">R. E. Anderson</span>, M.A. Post 8vo, half-bound, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BRET HARTE, WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>LIBRARY EDITION. In Seven Volumes, crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>BRET HARTE'S COLLECTED WORKS.</b> Arranged and Revised by the
+Author.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. I. <span class="smcap">Complete Poetical and Dramatic Works</span>. With Steel
+Portrait.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. II. <span class="smcap">Luck of Roaring Camp&mdash;Bohemian Papers&mdash;American
+Legends</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. III. <span class="smcap">Tales of the Argonauts&mdash;Eastern Sketches</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. IV. <span class="smcap">Gabriel Conroy</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. V. <span class="smcap">Stories&mdash;Condensed Novels</span>, &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. VI. <span class="smcap">Tales of the Pacific Slope</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. VII. <span class="smcap">Tales of the Pacific Slope&mdash;II</span>. With Portrait by
+<span class="smcap">John Pettie</span>, R.A.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p><b>THE SELECT WORKS OF BRET HARTE, in Prose and Poetry.</b> With
+Introductory Essay by <span class="smcap">J. M. Bellew</span>. Portrait of Author, and
+50 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BRET HARTE'S POETICAL WORKS.</b> Hand-made paper &amp; buckram. Cr.
+8vo, <b>4s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p>THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE. With 28 original Drawings by
+<span class="smcap">Kate Greenaway</span>, reproduced in Colours by <span class="smcap">Edmund Evans</span>. Small
+4to, cloth, <b>5s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A WAIF OF THE PLAINS.</b> With 60 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Stanley L.
+Wood</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>A WARD OF THE GOLDEN GATE.</b> With 59 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Stanley
+L. Wood</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>A SAPPHO OF GREEN SPRINGS,</b> &amp;c. With Two Illustrations by
+<span class="smcap">Hume Nisbet</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>COLONEL STARBOTTLE'S CLIENT, AND SOME OTHER PEOPLE.</b> With a
+Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Fred. Barnard</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>SALLY DOWS,</b> &amp;c. With a Frontispiece.</p>
+
+<p><b>SUSY:</b> A Novel. With a Frontispiece. [<i>Shortly.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>GABRIEL CONROY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG,</b> &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP,</b> &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p><b>CALIFORNIAN STORIES.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>FLIP.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MARUJA.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A PHYLLIS OF THE SIERRAS.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Fcap. 8vo, picture cover, <b>1s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE TWINS OF TABLE MOUNTAIN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SNOW BOUND AT EAGLE'S.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>JEFF BRIGGS'S LOVE STORY.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BRYDGES.&mdash;UNCLE SAM AT HOME.</b> By <span class="smcap">Harold Brydges</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated
+boards, <b>2s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BUCHANAN'S (ROBERT) WORKS.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>SELECTED POEMS OF ROBERT BUCHANAN.</b> With Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">T.
+Dalziel</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE EARTHQUAKE;</b> or, Six Days and a Sabbath.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE CITY OF DREAM:</b> An Epic Poem. With Two Illustrations by
+<span class="smcap">P. Macnab</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE OUTCAST:</b> A Rhyme for the Time. With 15 Illustrations by
+<span class="smcap">Rudolf Blind</span>, <span class="smcap">Peter Macnab</span>, and <span class="smcap">Hume Nisbet</span>. Small demy 8vo,
+cloth extra, <b>8s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ROBERT BUCHANAN'S COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS.</b> With Steel-plate
+Portrait. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated
+boards, <b>2s.</b> each</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A CHILD OF NATURE.</b> Frontispiece.</p>
+
+<p><b>GOD AND THE MAN.</b> With 11 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Fred. Barnard</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE MARTYRDOM OF MADELINE.</b> With Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">A. W.
+Cooper</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>LOVE ME FOR EVER.</b> Frontispiece.</p>
+
+<p><b>ANNAN WATER.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FOXGLOVE MANOR.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE NEW ABELARD.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MATT:</b> A Story of a Caravan. Front.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE MASTER OF THE MINE.</b> Front.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE HEIR OF LINNE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BURTON (CAPTAIN).&mdash;THE BOOK OF THE SWORD:</b> Being a History of the Sword
+and its Use in all Countries, from the Earliest Times. By <span class="smcap">Richard F.
+Burton</span>. With over 400 Illustrations. Square 8vo, cloth extra. <b>32s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>BURTON (ROBERT).</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE ANATOMY OF MELANCHOLY:</b> A New Edition, with translations
+of the Classical Extracts. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MELANCHOLY ANATOMISED:</b> Being an Abridgment, for popular use,
+of <span class="smcap">Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.
+6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CAINE (T. HALL), NOVELS BY.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>
+each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each; cloth limp,
+<b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>SHADOW OF A CRIME.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A SON OF HAGAR.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE DEEMSTER.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CAMERON (COMMANDER).&mdash;THE CRUISE OF THE "BLACK PRINCE" PRIVATEER.</b> By <span class="smcap">V.
+Lovett Cameron</span>, R.N., C.B. With Two Illustrations by <span class="smcap">P. Macnab</span>. Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CAMERON (MRS. H. LOVETT), NOVELS BY.</b> Post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>JULIET'S GUARDIAN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>DECEIVERS EVER.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CARLYLE (THOMAS) ON THE CHOICE OF BOOKS.</b> With Life by <span class="smcap">R. H. Shepherd</span>,
+and Three Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE CORRESPONDENCE OF THOMAS CARLYLE AND RALPH WALDO
+EMERSON, 1834 to 1872.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">Charles Eliot Norton</span>. With
+Portraits. Two Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>24s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CARLYLE (JANE WELSH), LIFE OF.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Alexander Ireland</span>. With Portrait
+and Facsimile Letter. Small demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CHAPMAN'S (GEORGE) WORKS.</b> Vol. I. contains the Plays complete, including
+the doubtful ones. Vol. II., the Poems and Minor Translations, with an
+Introductory Essay by <span class="smcap">Algernon Charles Swinburne</span>. Vol. III., the
+Translations of the Iliad and Odyssey. Three Vols., crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>6s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CHATTO AND JACKSON.&mdash;A TREATISE ON WOOD ENGRAVING,</b> Historical and
+Practical. By <span class="smcap">William Andrew Chatto</span> and <span class="smcap">John Jackson</span>. With an Additional
+Chapter by <span class="smcap">Henry G. Bohn</span>, and 450 fine Illusts. Large 4to. hf.-bd., <b>28s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN:</b> A Golden Key. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">H. R. Haweis</span>. With 8
+Coloured Plates and 30 Woodcuts. Small 4to, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>CHAUCER FOR SCHOOLS.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">H. R. Haweis</span>. Demy 8vo, cloth
+limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CLARE.&mdash;FOR THE LOVE OF A LASS:</b> A Tale of Tynedale. By <span class="smcap">Austin Clare</span>.
+Post 8vo, picture boards, <b>2s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CLIVE (MRS. ARCHER), NOVELS BY.</b> Post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>PAUL FERROLL.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WHY PAUL FERROLL KILLED HIS WIFE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CLODD.&mdash;MYTHS AND DREAMS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edward Clodd</span>, F.R.A.S. Second Edition,
+Revised. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>COBBAN&mdash;THE CURE OF SOULS:</b> A Story. By <span class="smcap">J. Maclaren Cobban</span>. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>COLEMAN (JOHN), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>PLAYERS AND PLAYWRIGHTS I HAVE KNOWN.</b> Two Vols., 8vo, cloth,
+<b>24s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CURLY:</b> An Actor's Story. With 21 Illusts. by <span class="smcap">J. C. Dollman</span>.
+Cr. 8vo, cl., <b>1s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>COLLINS (C. ALLSTON).&mdash;THE BAR SINISTER.</b> Post 8vo, 2s.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>COLLINS (MORTIMER AND FRANCES), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>FROM MIDNIGHT TO MIDNIGHT.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BLACKSMITH AND SCHOLAR.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>TRANSMIGRATION.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>YOU PLAY ME FALSE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A VILLAGE COMEDY.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>SWEET ANNE PAGE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SWEET AND TWENTY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FRANCES.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>COLLINS (WILKIE), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b> each; cl.
+limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ANTONINA.</b> With a Frontispiece by Sir <span class="smcap">John Gilbert</span>, R.A.</p>
+
+<p><b>BASIL.</b> Illustrated by Sir <span class="smcap">John Gilbert</span>, R.A., and <span class="smcap">J.
+Mahoney</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>HIDE AND SEEK.</b> Illustrated by Sir <span class="smcap">John Gilbert</span>, R.A., and <span class="smcap">J.
+Mahoney</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>AFTER DARK.</b> With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">A. B. Houghton</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE DEAD SECRET.</b> With a Frontispiece by Sir <span class="smcap">John Gilbert</span>,
+R.A.</p>
+
+<p><b>QUEEN OF HEARTS.</b> With a Frontispiece by Sir <span class="smcap">John Gilbert</span>,
+R.A.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE WOMAN IN WHITE.</b> With Illusts. by Sir <span class="smcap">J. Gilbert</span>, R.A.,
+and <span class="smcap">F. A. Fraser</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>NO NAME.</b> With Illustrations by Sir <span class="smcap">J. E. Millais</span>, R.A., and
+<span class="smcap">A. W. Cooper</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>MY MISCELLANIES.</b> With a Steel-plate Portrait of <span class="smcap">Wilkie
+Collins</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>ARMADALE.</b> With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">G. H. Thomas</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE MOONSTONE.</b> With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">G. Du Maurier</span> and <span class="smcap">F. A.
+Fraser</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>MAN AND WIFE.</b> With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">William Small</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>POOR MISS FINCH.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">G. Du Maurier</span> and <span class="smcap">Edward
+Hughes</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>MISS OR MRS.?</b> With Illusts. by <span class="smcap">S. L. Fildes</span>, R.A., and <span class="smcap">Henry
+Woods</span>, A.R.A.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE NEW MAGDALEN.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">G. Du Maurier</span> and <span class="smcap">C. S.
+Reinhardt</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE FROZEN DEEP.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">G. Du Maurier</span> and <span class="smcap">J.
+Mahoney</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE LAW AND THE LADY.</b> Illusts. by <span class="smcap">S. L. Fildes</span>, R.A., and
+<span class="smcap">Sydney Hall</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE TWO DESTINIES.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE HAUNTED HOTEL.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Arthur Hopkins</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE FALLEN LEAVES.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE BLACK ROBE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>HEART AND SCIENCE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>"I SAY NO."</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A ROGUE'S LIFE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE EVIL GENIUS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LITTLE NOVELS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE LEGACY OF CAIN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BLIND LOVE.</b> With Preface by <span class="smcap">Walter Besant</span>, and Illusts. by
+<span class="smcap">A. Forestier</span>.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>COLLINS (JOHN CHURTON. M.A.), BOOKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ILLUSTRATIONS OF TENNYSON.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A MONOGRAPH ON DEAN SWIFT.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>8s.</b>
+[<i>Shortly.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>COLMAN'S HUMOROUS WORKS:</b> "Broad Grins," "My Nightgown and Slippers," and
+other Humorous Works of <span class="smcap">George Colman</span>. With Life by <span class="smcap">G. B. Buckstone</span>, and
+Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Hogarth</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>COLMORE.&mdash;A VALLEY OF SHADOWS.</b> By <span class="smcap">G. Colmore</span>, Author of "A Conspiracy of
+Silence." Two Vols., crown 8vo.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>COLQUHOUN.&mdash;EVERY INCH A SOLDIER:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">M. J. Colquhoun</span>. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CONVALESCENT COOKERY:</b> A Family Handbook. By <span class="smcap">Catherine Ryan</span>. Crown 8vo,
+<b>1s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CONWAY (MONCURE D.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>DEMONOLOGY AND DEVIL-LORE.</b> With 65 Illustrations. Third
+Edition. Two Vols., demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>28s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A NECKLACE OF STORIES.</b> 25 Illusts. by <span class="smcap">W. J. Hennessy</span>. Sq.
+8vo, cloth, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>PINE AND PALM:</b> A Novel. Two Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+<b>21s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>GEORGE WASHINGTON'S RULES OF CIVILITY</b> Traced to their
+Sources and Restored. Fcap. 8vo, Japanese vellum, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>COOK (DUTTON), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>PAUL FOSTER'S DAUGHTER.</b> Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo,
+illust. boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LEO.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CORNWALL.&mdash;POPULAR ROMANCES OF THE WEST OF ENGLAND;</b> or, The Drolls,
+Traditions, and Superstitions of Old Cornwall. Collected by <span class="smcap">Robert Hunt</span>,
+F.R.S. Two Steel-plates by <span class="smcap">Geo. Cruikshank</span>. Cr. 8vo, cl., <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>COTES.&mdash;TWO GIRLS ON A BARGE.</b> By <span class="smcap">V. Cecil Cotes</span>. With 44 Illustrations
+by <span class="smcap">F. H. Townsend</span>.&mdash;Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CRADDOCK.&mdash;THE PROPHET OF THE GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Egbert
+Craddock</span>. Post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b>; cl. limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CRIM.&mdash;ADVENTURES OF A FAIR REBEL.</b> By <span class="smcap">Matt Crim</span>. With a Frontispiece by
+<span class="smcap">Dan. Beard</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CROKER (B.M.), NOVELS BY.</b> Post 8vo, <b>2s.</b> each; cloth, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>PRETTY MISS NEVILLE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A BIRD OF PASSAGE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>DIANA BARRINGTON.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>PROPER PRIDE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>A FAMILY LIKENESS.</b> Three Vols., crown 8vo.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CRUIKSHANK'S COMIC ALMANACK.</b> Complete in <span class="smcap">Two Series</span>: The <span class="smcap">First</span> from 1835
+to 1843; the <span class="smcap">Second</span> from 1844 to 1853. A Gathering of the <span class="smcap">Best Humour</span> of
+<span class="smcap">Thackeray</span>, <span class="smcap">Hood</span>, <span class="smcap">Mayhew</span>, <span class="smcap">Albert Smith</span>, <span class="smcap">A'Beckett</span>, <span class="smcap">Robert Brough</span>, &amp;c.
+With numerous Steel Engravings and Woodcuts by <span class="smcap">Cruikshank</span>, <span class="smcap">Hine</span>,
+<span class="smcap">Landells</span>, &amp;c. Two Vols, crown 8vo, cloth gilt, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE LIFE OF GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.</b> By <span class="smcap">Blanchard Jerrold</span>. With 84
+Illustrations and a Bibliography. Crown 8vo, cloth extra <b>7s.
+6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CUMMING (C. F. GORDON), WORKS BY.</b> Demy 8vo, cl. ex., <b>8s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>IN THE HEBRIDES.</b> With Autotype Facsimile and 23
+Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>IN THE HIMALAYAS AND ON THE INDIAN PLAINS.</b> With 42
+Illustrations.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>VIA CORNWALL TO EGYPT.</b> With Photogravure Frontis. Demy 8vo, cl., <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CUSSANS.&mdash;A HANDBOOK OF HERALDRY;</b> with Instructions for Tracing
+Pedigrees and Deciphering Ancient MSS., &amp;c. By <span class="smcap">John E. Cussans</span>. With 408
+Woodcuts, Two Coloured and Two Plain Plates. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s.
+6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>CYPLES (W.)&mdash;HEARTS of GOLD.</b> Cr. 8vo, cl., <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, bds., <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DANIEL.&mdash;MERRIE ENGLAND IN THE OLDEN TIME.</b> By <span class="smcap">George Daniel</span>. With
+Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Robert Cruikshank</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DAUDET.&mdash;THE EVANGELIST;</b> or, Port Salvation. By <span class="smcap">Alphonse Daudet</span>. Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DAVENANT.&mdash;HINTS FOR PARENTS ON THE CHOICE OF A PROFESSION FOR THEIR
+SONS.</b> By <span class="smcap">F. Davenant</span>, M.A. Post 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cl., <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DAVIES (DR. N. E. YORKE-), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b> each: cloth limp. <b>1s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ONE THOUSAND MEDICAL MAXIMS AND SURGICAL HINTS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>NURSERY HINTS:</b> A Mother's Guide in Health and Disease.</p>
+
+<p><b>FOODS FOR THE FAT:</b> A Treatise on Corpulency, and a Dietary
+for its Cure.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>AIDS TO LONG LIFE.</b> Crown 8vo, <b>2s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DAVIES' (SIR JOHN) COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS,</b> for the first time Collected
+and Edited, with Memorial-Introduction and Notes, by the Rev. <span class="smcap">A. B.
+Grosart</span>, D.D. Two Vols., crown 8vo, cloth boards, <b>12s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DAWSON.&mdash;THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH:</b> A Novel of Adventure. By <span class="smcap">Erasmus Dawson</span>,
+M.B. Edited by <span class="smcap">Paul Devon</span>. With Two Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Hume Nisbet</span>. Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DE GUERIN.&mdash;THE JOURNAL OF MAURICE DE GUERIN.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">G. S. Trebutien</span>.
+With a Memoir by <span class="smcap">Sainte-Beuve</span>. Translated from the 20th French Edition
+by <span class="smcap">Jessie P. Frothingham</span>. Fcap, 8vo, half-bound, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DE MAISTRE.-A JOURNEY ROUND MY ROOM</b>. By <span class="smcap">Xavier de Maistre</span>. Translated by
+<span class="smcap">Henry Attwell</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DE MILLE.&mdash;A CASTLE IN SPAIN.</b> By <span class="smcap">James De Mille</span>. With a Frontispiece.
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DERBY (THE).&mdash;THE BLUE RIBBON OF THE TURF:</b> A Chronicle of the <span class="smcap">Race for
+The Derby</span>, from Diomed to Donovan. With Brief Accounts of <span class="smcap">The Oaks</span>. By
+<span class="smcap">Louis Henry Curzon</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DERWENT (LEITH), NOVELS BY.</b> Cr. 8vo, cl., <b>3s. 6d.</b> ea.; post 8vo, bds.,
+<b>2s.</b> ea.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>OUR LADY OF TEARS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CIRCE'S LOVERS.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DICKENS (CHARLES), NOVELS BY.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>SKETCHES BY BOZ.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE PICKWICK PAPERS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>OLIVER TWIST.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE SPEECHES OF CHARLES DICKENS,</b> 1841-1870. With a New Bibliography.
+Edited by <span class="smcap">Richard Herne Shepherd</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra. <b>6s.</b>&mdash;Also a
+<span class="smcap">Smaller Edition</span>, in the <i>Mayfair Library</i>, post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ABOUT ENGLAND WITH DICKENS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Alfred Rimmer</span>. With 57 Illustrations by
+<span class="smcap">C. A. Vanderhoof</span>, <span class="smcap">Alfred Rimmer</span>, and others. Sq. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s.
+6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DICTIONARIES.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A DICTIONARY OF MIRACLES:</b> Imitative, Realistic, and
+Dogmatic. By the Rev. <span class="smcap">E. C. Brewer</span>, LL.D. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE READER'S HANDBOOK OF ALLUSIONS, REFERENCES, PLOTS, AND
+STORIES.</b> By the Rev. <span class="smcap">E. C. Brewer</span>, LL.D. With an <span class="smcap">English
+Bibliography</span>. Fifteenth Thousand. Crown 8vo, cloth extra <b>7s.
+6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>AUTHORS AND THEIR WORKS, WITH THE DATES.</b> Cr. 8vo, cloth
+limp, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FAMILIAR SHORT SAYINGS OF GREAT MEN.</b> With Historical and
+Explanatory Notes. By <span class="smcap">Samuel A. Bent</span>, A M. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SLANG DICTIONARY:</b> Etymological, Historical, and Anecdotal.
+Cr. 8vo, cl., <b>6s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WOMEN OF THE DAY:</b> A Biographical Dictionary. By <span class="smcap">F. Hays</span>. Cr.
+8vo, cl., <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WORDS, FACTS, AND PHRASES:</b> A Dictionary of Curious, Quaint,
+and Out-of-the-Way Matters. By <b>Eliezer Edwards</b>. Crown 8vo,
+cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DIDEROT.&mdash;THE PARADOX OF ACTING.</b> Translated, with Annotations from
+Diderot's "Le Paradoxe sur le Com&eacute;dien," by <span class="smcap">Walter Herries Pollock</span>. With
+a Preface by <span class="smcap">Henry Irving</span>. Crown 8vo, parchment. <b>4s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DOBSON (AUSTIN), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THOMAS BEWICK &amp; HIS PUPILS.</b> With 95 Illustrations. Square
+8vo, cloth, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FOUR FRENCHWOMEN:</b> <span class="smcap">Mademoiselle de Corday</span>; <span class="smcap">Madame Roland</span>; <span class="smcap">The
+Princess de Lamballe</span>; Ma<span class="smcap">dame de Genlis</span>. Fcap. 8vo, hf.
+roxburghe. <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>EIGHTEENTH CENTURY VIGNETTES.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b>
+[<i>Preparing.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DOBSON (W. T.), WORKS BY.</b> Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>LITERARY FRIVOLITIES, FANCIES, FOLLIES, AND FROLICS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>POETICAL INGENUITIES AND ECCENTRICITIES.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DONOVAN (DICK), DETECTIVE STORIES BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Post 8vo illustrated boards, 2s. each; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE MAN-HUNTER.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WANTED!</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CAUGHT AT LAST!</b></p>
+
+<p><b>TRACKED AND TAKEN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WHO POISONED HETTY DUNCAN?</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A DETECTIVE'S TRIUMPHS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>IN THE GRIP OF THE LAW.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FROM INFORMATION RECEIVED.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE MAN FROM MANCHESTER.</b> With 23 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+<b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>TRACKED TO DOOM.</b> With 6 full-page Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Gordon Browne</span>. Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DOYLE (CONAN).&mdash;THE FIRM OF GIRDLESTONE.</b> By <span class="smcap">A. Conan Doyle</span>, Author of
+"Micah Clarke." Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DRAMATISTS, THE OLD.</b> With Vignette Portraits. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>6s.</b> per
+Vol.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>BEN JONSON'S WORKS.</b> With Notes Critical and Explanatory, and
+a Biographical Memoir by <span class="smcap">Wm. Gifford</span>. Edited by Col.
+<span class="smcap">Cunningham</span>. Three Vols.</p>
+
+<p><b>CHAPMAN'S WORKS.</b> Complete in Three Vols. Vol. I. contains
+the Plays complete; Vol. II., Poems and Minor Translations,
+with an Introductory Essay by <span class="smcap">A. C. Swinburne</span>; Vol. III.,
+Translations of the Iliad and Odyssey.</p>
+
+<p><b>MARLOWE'S WORKS.</b> Edited, with Notes, by Col. <span class="smcap">Cunningham</span>. One
+Vol.</p>
+
+<p><b>MASSINGER'S PLAYS.</b> From <span class="smcap">Gifford</span>'s Text. Edit by Col.
+<span class="smcap">Cunningham</span>. One Vol.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DUNCAN (SARA JEANNETTE), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A SOCIAL DEPARTURE:</b> How Orthodocia and I Went round the
+World by Ourselves. With 111 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">F. H.
+Townsend</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON.</b> With 80 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">F. H.
+Townsend</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE SIMPLE ADVENTURES OF MEM SAHIB.</b> Numerous Illusts.
+[<i>Preparing.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>DYER.&mdash;THE FOLK-LORE OF PLANTS.</b> By Rev. <span class="smcap">T. F. Thiselton Dyer</span>, M.A. Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>EARLY ENGLISH POETS.</b> Edited, with Introductions and Annotations, by Rev.
+<span class="smcap">A. B. Grosart</span>, D.D. Crown 8vo, cloth boards, <b>6s.</b> per Volume.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>FLETCHER'S (GILES) COMPLETE POEMS.</b> One Vol.</p>
+
+<p><b>DAVIES' (SIR JOHN) COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS.</b> Two Vols.</p>
+
+<p><b>HERRICK'S (ROBERT) COMPLETE COLLECTED POEMS.</b> Three Vols.</p>
+
+<p><b>SIDNEY'S (SIR PHILIP) COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS.</b> Three Vols.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>EDGCUMBE.&mdash;ZEPHYRUS:</b> A Holiday in Brazil and on the River Plate. By <span class="smcap">E.
+R. Pearce Edgcumbe</span>. With 41 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>EDWARDES (MRS. ANNIE), NOVELS BY:</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A POINT OF HONOUR.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ARCHIE LOVELL.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo,
+illust. boards, <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>EDWARDS (ELIEZER).&mdash;WORDS, FACTS, AND PHRASES:</b> A Dictionary of Curious,
+Quaint, and Out-of-the-Way Matters. By <span class="smcap">Eliezer Edwards</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>EDWARDS (M. BETHAM-), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>KITTY.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>2s.
+6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FELICIA.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>EGERTON.&mdash;SUSSEX FOLK &amp; SUSSEX WAYS.</b> By Rev. <span class="smcap">J. C. Egerton</span>. With
+Introduction by Rev. <span class="smcap">Dr. H. Wace</span>, and 4 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth
+ex., <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>EGGLESTON (EDWARD).&mdash;ROXY:</b> A Novel. Post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>EMANUEL.&mdash;ON DIAMONDS AND PRECIOUS STONES:</b> Their History, Value, and
+Properties; with Simple Tests for ascertaining their Reality. By <span class="smcap">Harry
+Emanuel</span>, F.R.G.S. With Illustrations, tinted and plain. Cr. 8vo, cl.
+ex., <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ENGLISHMAN'S HOUSE, THE:</b> A Practical Guide to all interested in
+Selecting or Building a House; with Estimates of Cost, Quantities, &amp;c.
+By <span class="smcap">C. J. Richardson</span>. With Coloured Frontispiece and 600 illusts. Crown
+8vo, cloth, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>EWALD (ALEX. CHARLES, F.S.A.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE LIFE AND TIMES OF PRINCE CHARLES STUART,</b> Count of Albany
+(<span class="smcap">The Young Pretender</span>). With a Portrait. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>STORIES FROM THE STATE PAPERS,</b> With an Autotype. Crown 8vo,
+cloth, <b>6s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>EYES, OUR:</b> How to Preserve Them from Infancy to Old Age. By <span class="smcap">John
+Browning</span>, F.R.A.S. With 70 Illusts. Eighteenth Thousand. Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FAMILIAR SHORT SAYINGS OF GREAT MEN.</b> By <span class="smcap">Samuel Arthur Bent</span>, A.M. Fifth
+Edition, Revised and Enlarged. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FARADAY (MICHAEL), WORKS BY.</b> Post 8vo, cloth extra, <b>4s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE CHEMICAL HISTORY OF A CANDLE:</b> Lectures delivered before
+a Juvenile Audience. Edited by <span class="smcap">William Crookes</span>, F.C.S. With
+numerous Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>ON THE VARIOUS FORCES OF NATURE, AND THEIR RELATIONS TO EACH
+OTHER.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">William Crookes</span>, F.C.S. With Illustrations.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FARRER (J. ANSON), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>MILITARY MANNERS AND CUSTOMS.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WAR:</b> Three Essays, reprinted from "Military Manners." Cr.
+8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cl., <b>1s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FENN (MANVILLE).&mdash;THE NEW MISTRESS:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">G. Manville Fenn</span>, Author
+of "Double Cunning," &amp;c. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FIN-BEC.&mdash;THE CUPBOARD PAPERS:</b> Observations on the Art of Living and
+Dining. By <span class="smcap">Fin-Bec</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FIREWORKS, THE COMPLETE ART OF MAKING;</b> or, The Pyrotechnist's Treasury.
+By <span class="smcap">Thomas Kentish</span>. With 267 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cl., <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FITZGERALD (PERCY, M.A., F.S.A.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE WORLD BEHIND THE SCENES.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LITTLE ESSAYS:</b> Passages from Letters of <span class="smcap">Charles Lamb</span>. Post
+8vo, cl., <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A DAY'S TOUR:</b> Journey through France and Belgium. With
+Sketches. Cr. 4to, <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FATAL ZERO.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>: post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>BELLA DONNA.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>POLLY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LADY OF BRANTOME.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>NEVER FORGOTTEN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SEVENTY-FIVE BROOKE STREET.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>LIFE OF JAMES BOSWELL (of Auchinleck).</b> With an Account of his Sayings,
+Doings, and Writings; and Four Portraits. Two Vols., demy 8vo, cloth,
+<b>24s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FLAMMARION.&mdash;URANIA:</b> A Romance. By <span class="smcap">Camille Flammarion</span>. Translated by
+<span class="smcap">Augusta Rice Stetson</span>. With 87 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">De Bieler</span>, <span class="smcap">Myrbach</span>, and
+<span class="smcap">Gambard</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FLETCHER'S (GILES, B.D.) COMPLETE POEMS:</b> Christ's Victorie in Heaven,
+Christ's Victorie on Earth, Christ's Triumph over Death, and Minor
+Poems. With Notes by Rev. <span class="smcap">A. B. Grosart</span>, D.D. Crown 8vo, cloth boards,
+<b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FLUDYER (HARRY) AT CAMBRIDGE:</b> A Series of Family Letters. Post 8vo,
+picture cover, <b>1s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FONBLANQUE (ALBANY).&mdash;FILTHY LUCRE.</b> Post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FRANCILLON (R. E.), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra. <b>3s. 6d.</b> each: post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ONE BY ONE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>QUEEN COPHETUA.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A REAL QUEEN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>KING OR KNAVE?</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>OLYMPIA.</b> Post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ESTHER'S GLOVE.</b> Fcap. 8vo, pict. cover, <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ROMANCES OF THE LAW.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>6s.</b>; post 8vo, illust. boards,
+<b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FREDERIC (HAROLD), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>SETH'S BROTHER'S WIFE.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE LAWTON GIRL.</b> With Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">F. Barnard</span>. Cr. 8vo,
+cloth ex., <b>6s.</b> post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FRENCH LITERATURE, A HISTORY OF.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henry Van Laun</span>. Three Vols., demy
+8vo, cloth boards, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FRERE.&mdash;PANDURANG HARI;</b> or, Memoirs of a Hindoo. With Preface by Sir
+<span class="smcap">Bartle Frere</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FRISWELL (HAIN).&mdash;ONE OF TWO:</b> A Novel. Post 8vo, illust. bds, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FROST (THOMAS), WORKS BY.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>CIRCUS LIFE AND CIRCUS CELEBRITIES.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LIVES OF THE CONJURERS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE OLD SHOWMEN AND THE OLD LONDON FAIRS.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>FRY'S (HERBERT) ROYAL GUIDE TO THE LONDON CHARITIES.</b> Showing their Name,
+Date of Foundation, Objects, Income, Officials, &amp;c. Edited by <span class="smcap">John Lane</span>.
+Published Annually. Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GARDENING BOOKS.</b> Post 8vo, <b>1s.</b> each; cloth limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A YEAR'S WORK IN GARDEN AND GREENHOUSE:</b> Practical Advice as
+to the Management of the Flower, Fruit, and Frame Garden. By
+<span class="smcap">George Glenny</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>HOUSEHOLD HORTICULTURE.</b> By <span class="smcap">Tom</span> and <span class="smcap">Jane Jerrold</span>.
+Illustrated.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE GARDEN THAT PAID THE RENT.</b> By <span class="smcap">Tom Jerrold</span>.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>OUR KITCHEN GARDEN:</b> The Plants we Grow, and How we Cook Them. By <span class="smcap">Tom
+Jerrold</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MY GARDEN WILD, AND WHAT I GREW THERE.</b> By <span class="smcap">Francis G. Heath</span>. Crown 8vo,
+cloth extra, gilt edges, <b>6s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GARRETT.&mdash;THE CAPEL GIRLS:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Edward Garrett</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE, THE.</b> <b>1s.</b> Monthly. In addition to the Articles upon
+subjects in Literature, Science, and Art, for which this Magazine has so
+high a reputation, "<b>TABLE TALK</b>" by <span class="smcap">Svlvanus Urban</span> appears monthly.</p>
+
+<p><i>Bound Volumes for recent years kept in stock, <b>8s. 6d.</b> each: Cases for
+binding, <b>2s.</b></i></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GENTLEMAN'S ANNUAL, THE.</b> Published Annually in November, <b>1s.</b> The 1892
+Annual, written by <b>T. W. Speight</b>, is entitled "<b>THE LOUDWATER TRAGEDY</b>."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GERMAN POPULAR STORIES.</b> Collected by the Brothers <span class="smcap">Grimm</span> and Translated
+by <span class="smcap">Edgar Taylor</span>. With Introduction by <span class="smcap">John Ruskin</span>, and 22 Steel Plates
+after <span class="smcap">George Cruikshank</span>. Square 8vo, cloth, <b>6s. 6d.</b>; gilt edges, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GIBBON (CHARLES), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ROBIN GRAY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LOVING A DREAM.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE FLOWER OF THE FOREST.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE GOLDEN SHAFT.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>OF HIGH DEGREE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE DEAD HEART.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FOR LACK OF GOLD.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY?</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FOR THE KING.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A HARD KNOT.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>QUEEN OF THE MEADOW.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>IN PASTURES GREEN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>IN LOVE AND WAR.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A HEART'S PROBLEM.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BY MEAD AND STREAM.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE BRAES OF YARROW.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FANCY FREE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>IN HONOUR BOUND.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>HEART'S DELIGHT.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BLOOD-MONEY.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GIBNEY (SOMERVILLE).&mdash;SENTENCED!</b> Cr. 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cl., <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GILBERT (WILLIAM), NOVELS BY.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards. <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>DR. AUSTIN'S GUESTS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE WIZARD OF THE MOUNTAIN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>JAMES DUKE, COSTERMONGER.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GILBERT (W. S.), ORIGINAL PLAYS BY.</b> Two Series, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>The <span class="smcap">First Series</span> contains: The Wicked World&mdash;Pygmalion and
+Galatea&mdash;Charity&mdash;The Princess&mdash;The Palace of Truth&mdash;Trial
+by Jury.</p>
+
+<p>The <span class="smcap">Second Series</span>: Broken
+Hearts&mdash;Engaged&mdash;Sweethearts&mdash;Gretchen&mdash;Dan'l Druce&mdash;Tom
+Cobb&mdash;H.M.S. "Pinafore"&mdash;The Sorcerer&mdash;Pirates of Penzance.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>EIGHT ORIGINAL COMIC OPERAS</b> written by <span class="smcap">W. S. Gilbert</span>.
+Containing: The Sorcerer&mdash;H.M.S. "Pinafore"&mdash;Pirates of
+Penzance&mdash;Iolanthe&mdash;Patience&mdash;Princess Ida&mdash;The Mikado&mdash;Trial by Jury.
+Demy 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE "GILBERT AND SULLIVAN" BIRTHDAY BOOK:</b> Quotations for Every Day in
+the Year, Selected from Plays by <span class="smcap">W. S. Gilbert</span> set to Music by Sir <span class="smcap">A.
+Sullivan</span>. Compiled by <span class="smcap">Alex. Watson</span>. Royal 16mo, Jap. leather, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GLANVILLE (ERNEST), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE LOST HEIRESS:</b> A Tale of Love, Battle and Adventure. With
+2 Illusts. by <span class="smcap">Hume Nisbet</span>. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>;
+post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE FOSSICKER:</b> A Romance of Mashonaland. With Frontispiece
+and Vignette by <span class="smcap">Hume Nisbet</span>. Second Edition. Crown 8vo,
+cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GLENNY.&mdash;A YEAR'S-WORK IN GARDEN AND GREENHOUSE:</b> Practical Advice to
+Amateur Gardeners as to the Management of the Flower, Fruit, and Frame
+Garden. By <span class="smcap">George Glenny</span>. Post 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GODWIN.&mdash;LIVES OF THE NECROMANCERS.</b> By <span class="smcap">William Godwin</span>. Post 8vo, cloth
+limp, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GOLDEN TREASURY OF THOUGHT, THE:</b> An Encyclop&aelig;dia of <span class="smcap">Quotations</span>. Edited
+by <span class="smcap">Theodore Taylor</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GOODMAN&mdash;THE FATE OF HERBERT WAYNE.</b> By <span class="smcap">E. J. Goodman</span>, Author of "Too
+Curious." Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GOWING.&mdash;FIVE THOUSAND MILES IN A SLEDGE:</b> A Midwinter Journey Across
+Siberia. By <span class="smcap">Lionel F. Gowing</span>. With 30 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">C. J. Uren</span>, and a
+Map by <span class="smcap">E. Weller</span>. Large crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>8s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GRAHAM.&mdash;THE PROFESSOR'S WIFE:</b> A Story. By <span class="smcap">Leonard Graham</span>. Fcap. 8vo,
+picture cover, <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GREEKS AND ROMANS, THE LIFE OF THE,</b> described from Antique Monuments. By
+<span class="smcap">Ernst Guhl</span> and <span class="smcap">W. Koner</span>. Edited by Dr. <span class="smcap">F. Hueffer</span>. With 545
+Illustrations. Large crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GREENWOOD (JAMES), WORKS BY.</b> Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE WILDS OF LONDON.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LOW-LIFE DEEPS.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GREVILLE (HENRY), NOVELS BY:</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>NIKANOR.</b> Translated by <span class="smcap">Eliza E. Chase</span>. With 8 Illustrations.
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+<b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A NOBLE WOMAN.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b>; post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>GRIFFITH.&mdash;CORINTHIA MARAZION:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Cecil Griffith</span>, Author of
+"Victory 'Deane," &amp;c. Crown, 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HABBERTON (JOHN,</b> Author of "Helen's Babies"), <b>NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards <b>2s.</b> each; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>BRUETON'S BAYOU.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>COUNTRY LUCK.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HAIR, THE:</b> Its Treatment in Health, Weakness, and Disease. Translated
+from the German of Dr. <span class="smcap">J. Pincus</span>. Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HAKE (DR. THOMAS GORDON), POEMS BY.</b> Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>6s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>NEW SYMBOLS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LEGENDS OF THE MORROW.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE SERPENT PLAY.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>MAIDEN ECSTASY.</b> Small 4to, cloth extra, <b>8s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HALL.&mdash;SKETCHES OF IRISH CHARACTER.</b> By Mrs. <b>S. C. Hall</b>. With numerous
+Illustrations on Steel and Wood by <span class="smcap">Maclise</span>, <span class="smcap">Gilbert</span>, <span class="smcap">Harvey</span>, and <span class="smcap">George
+Cruikshank</span>. Medium 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HALLIDAY (ANDR.).&mdash;EVERY-DAY PAPERS.</b> Post 8vo, bds., <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HANDWRITING, THE PHILOSOPHY OF.</b> With over 100 Facsimiles and Explanatory
+Text. By <span class="smcap">Don Felix de Salamanca</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HANKY-PANKY:</b> A Collection of Very Easy Tricks, Very Difficult Tricks,
+White Magic, Sleight of Hand, &amp;c. Edited by <span class="smcap">W. H. Cremer</span>. With 200
+Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>4s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HARDY (LADY DUFFUS).&mdash;PAUL WYNTER'S SACRIFICE.</b> By Lady <span class="smcap">Duffus Hardy</span>.
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HARDY (THOMAS).&mdash;UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.</b> By <span class="smcap">Thomas Hardy</span>, Author of
+"Far from the Madding Crowd." With Portrait and 15 Illustrations. Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HARPER.&mdash;THE BRIGHTON ROAD:</b> Old Times and New on a Classic Highway. By
+<span class="smcap">Charles G. Harper</span>. With a Photogravure Frontispiece and 90
+Illustrations. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>16s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HARWOOD&mdash;THE TENTH EARL.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. Berwick Harwood</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated
+boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HAWEIS (MRS. H. R.), WORKS BY.</b> Square 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE ART OF BEAUTY.</b> With Coloured Frontispiece and 91
+Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE ART OF DECORATION.</b> With Coloured Frontispiece and 74
+Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN.</b> With 8 Coloured Plates and 30
+Woodcuts.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE ART OF DRESS.</b> With 32 Illustrations. Post 8vo, <b>1s.</b>:
+cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CHAUCER FOR SCHOOLS.</b> Demy 8vo; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HAWEIS (Rev. H. R., M.A.).&mdash;AMERICAN HUMORISTS:</b> <span class="smcap">Washington Irving</span>,
+<span class="smcap">Oliver Wendell Holmes</span>, <span class="smcap">James Russell Lowell</span>, <span class="smcap">Artemus Ward</span>, <span class="smcap">Mark Twain</span>,
+and <span class="smcap">Bret Harte</span>. Third Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HAWLEY SMART.-WITHOUT LOVE OR LICENCE:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Hawley Smart</span>. Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HAWTHORNE.&mdash;OUR OLD HOME;</b> By <span class="smcap">Nathaniel Hawthorne</span>; Annotated with
+Passages from the Author's Note-book, and Illustrated with 31
+Photogravures. Two Vols., crown 8vo, buckram, gilt top, <b>15s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HAWTHORNE (JULIAN), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>GARTH.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ELLICE QUENTIN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SEBASTIAN STROME.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FORTUNE'S FOOL.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BEATRIX RANDOLPH.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>DUST.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>DAVID POINDEXTER.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE SPECTRE OF THE CAMERA.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>MISS CADOGNA.</b> <b>LOVE&mdash;OR A NAME.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>MRS. GAINSBOROUGH'S DIAMONDS.</b> Fcap. 8vo, illustrated cover,
+<b>1s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HEATH.&mdash;MY GARDEN WILD, AND WHAT I GREW THERE.</b> By <span class="smcap">Francis George Heath</span>.
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HELPS (SIR ARTHUR), WORKS BY.</b> Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ANIMALS AND THEIR MASTERS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SOCIAL PRESSURE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>IVAN DE BIRON:</b> A Novel. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post
+8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HENDERSON.&mdash;AGATHA PAGE:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Isaac Henderson</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HERMAN.&mdash;A LEADING LADY.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henry Herman</span>, joint-Author of "The Bishops'
+Bible." Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>; cloth extra, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HERRICK'S (ROBERT) HESPERIDES, NOBLE NUMBERS, AND COMPLETE COLLECTED
+POEMS.</b> With Memorial-Introduction and Notes by the Rev. <span class="smcap">A. B. Grosart</span>,
+D.D.; Steel Portrait, &amp;c. Three Vols., crown 8vo, cl. bds., <b>18s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HERTZKA.&mdash;FREELAND:</b> A Social Anticipation. By Dr. <span class="smcap">Theodor Hertzka</span>.
+Translated by <span class="smcap">Arthur Ransom</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HESSE-WARTEGG.&mdash;TUNIS:</b> The Land and the People. By Chevalier <span class="smcap">Ernst von
+Hesse-Wartegg</span>. With 22 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HILL.&mdash;TREASON-FELONY:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">John Hill</span>. Two Vols.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HINDLEY (CHARLES), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>TAVERN ANECDOTES AND SAYINGS:</b> Including Reminiscences
+connected with Coffee Houses, Clubs, &amp;c. With Illustrations.
+Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF A CHEAP JACK.</b> By <span class="smcap">One of the
+Fraternity</span>. Edited by <span class="smcap">Charles Hindley</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HOEY.&mdash;THE LOVER'S CREED.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Cashel Hoey</span>. Post 8vo, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HOLLINGSHEAD (JOHN).&mdash;NIAGARA SPRAY.</b> Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HOLMES.&mdash;THE SCIENCE OF VOICE PRODUCTION AND VOICE PRESERVATION.</b> By
+<span class="smcap">Gordon Holmes</span>, M.D. Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HOLMES (OLIVER WENDELL), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">J.
+Gordon Thomson</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b>&mdash;Another
+Edition, in smaller type, with an Introduction by <span class="smcap">G. A.
+Sala</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE PROFESSOR AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE.</b> Post 8vo, cloth limp,
+<b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HOOD'S (THOMAS) CHOICE WORKS,</b> in Prose and Verse. With Life of the
+Author, Portrait, and 200 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>HOOD'S WHIMS AND ODDITIES.</b> With 85 Illustrations. Post 8vo,
+printed on laid paper and half-bound, <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HOOD (TOM).&mdash;FROM NOWHERE TO THE NORTH POLE:</b> A Noah's Ark&aelig;ological
+Narrative. By <span class="smcap">Tom Hood</span>. With 25 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. Brunton</span> and <span class="smcap">E. C.
+Barnes</span>. Square 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HOOK'S (THEODORE) CHOICE HUMOROUS WORKS;</b> including his Ludicrous
+Adventures, Bons Mots, Puns, and Hoaxes. With Life of the Author,
+Portraits, Facsimiles, and Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s.
+6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HOOPER. THE HOUSE OF RABY:</b> A Novel. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">George Hooper</span>. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HOPKINS.&mdash;"'TWIXT LOVE AND DUTY:"</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Tighe Hopkins</span>. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HORNE.&mdash;ORION:</b> An Epic Poem. By <span class="smcap">Richard Hengist Horne</span>. With Photographic
+Portrait by <span class="smcap">Summers</span>. Tenth Edition. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HORSE (THE) AND HIS RIDER:</b> An Anecdotic Medley. By "<span class="smcap">Thormanby</span>." Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HUNGERFORD (MRS.),</b> Author of "Molly Bawn," <b>NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A MAIDEN ALL FORLORN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>IN DURANCE VILE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A MENTAL STRUGGLE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MARVEL.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A MODERN CIRCE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HUNT.&mdash;ESSAYS BY LEIGH HUNT:</b> <span class="smcap">A Tale for a Chimney Corner</span>, &amp;c. Edited by
+<span class="smcap">Edmund Ollier</span>. Post 8vo, printed on laid paper and half-bd. <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HUNT (MRS. ALFRED), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each: post 8vo, illustrated boards. <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE LEADEN CASKET.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SELF-CONDEMNED.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THAT OTHER PERSON.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THORNICROFT'S MODEL.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MRS. JULIET.</b> Three Vols., crown 8vo.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HUTCHISON.&mdash;HINTS ON COLT-BREAKING.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. M. Hutchison</span>. With 25
+Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>HYDROPHOBIA:</b> An Account of <span class="smcap">M. Pasteur</span>'s System; Technique of his Method,
+and Statistics. By <span class="smcap">Renaud Suzor</span>, M.B. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>IDLER (THE):</b> A Monthly Magazine. Edited by <span class="smcap">Jerome K. Jerome</span> and <span class="smcap">Robert
+E. Barr</span>. Profusely Illustrated. Sixpence Monthly.&mdash;Vol. I. now ready,
+cloth extra, price <b>5s.</b>; Cases for Binding, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>INGELOW (JEAN).&mdash;FATED TO BE FREE.</b> With 24 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">G. J.
+Pinwell</span>. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+<b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>INDOOR PAUPERS.</b> By <span class="smcap">One of Them</span>. Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>IRISH WIT AND HUMOUR, SONGS OF.</b> Collected and Edited by <span class="smcap">A. Perceval
+Graves</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>JAMES.&mdash;A ROMANCE OF THE QUEEN'S HOUNDS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles James</span>. Post 8vo,
+picture cover, <b>1s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>JANVIER.&mdash;PRACTICAL KERAMICS FOR STUDENTS.</b> By <b>Catherine A. Janvier</b>.
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>JAY (HARRIETT), NOVELS BY.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE DARK COLLEEN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE QUEEN OF CONNAUGHT.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>JEFFERIES (RICHARD), WORKS BY.</b> Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>NATURE NEAR LONDON.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE LIFE OF THE FIELDS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE OPEN AIR.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFERIES.</b> By <span class="smcap">Walter Besant</span>. Second
+Edition. With a Photograph Portrait. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+<b>6s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>JENNINGS (H. J.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>CURIOSITIES OF CRITICISM.</b> Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LORD TENNYSON:</b> A Biographical Sketch. With a Photograph. Cr.
+8vo, cl., <b>6s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>JEROME.&mdash;STAGELAND.</b> By <span class="smcap">Jerome K. Jerome</span>. With 64 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">J.
+Bernard Partridge</span>. Square 8vo, picture cover, <b>1s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>JERROLD.&mdash;THE BARBER'S CHAIR; &amp; THE HEDGEHOG LETTERS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Douglas
+Jerrold</span>. Post 8vo, printed on laid paper and half-bound, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>JERROLD (TOM), WORKS BY.</b> Post 8vo, <b>1s.</b> each; cloth limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE GARDEN THAT PAID THE RENT.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>HOUSEHOLD HORTICULTURE:</b> A Gossip about Flowers. Illustrated.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>OUR KITCHEN GARDEN:</b> The Plants, and How we Cook Them. Cr.
+8vo, cl., <b>1s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>JESSE.&mdash;SCENES AND OCCUPATIONS OF A COUNTRY LIFE.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edward Jesse</span>. Post
+8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>JONES (WILLIAM, F.S.A.) WORKS BY.</b> Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>FINGER-RING LORE:</b> Historical, Legendary, and Anecdotal. With
+nearly 300 Illustrations. Second Edition, Revised and
+Enlarged.</p>
+
+<p><b>CREDULITIES, PAST AND PRESENT.</b> Including the Sea and Seamen,
+Miners, Talismans, Word and Letter Divination, Exorcising
+and Blessing of Animals, Birds, Eggs, Luck, &amp;c. With an
+Etched Frontispiece.</p>
+
+<p><b>CROWNS AND CORONATIONS:</b> A History of Regalia. With 100
+Illustrations.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>JONSON'S (BEN) WORKS.</b> With Notes Critical and Explanatory and a
+Biographical Memoir by <span class="smcap">William Gifford</span>. Edited by Colonel <span class="smcap">Cunningham</span>.
+Three Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>JOSEPHUS, THE COMPLETE WORKS OF.</b> Translated by <span class="smcap">Whiston</span>. Containing "The
+Antiquities of the Jews" and "The Wars of the Jews." With 52
+Illustrations and Maps. Two Vols., demy 8vo, half-bound, <b>12s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>KEMPT.&mdash;PENCIL AND PALETTE:</b> Chapters on Art and Artists. By <span class="smcap">Robert
+Kempt</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>KERSHAW.&mdash;COLONIAL FACTS AND FICTIONS:</b> Humorous Sketches. By <span class="smcap">Mark
+Kershaw</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>; cloth, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>KEYSER.&mdash;CUT BY THE MESS:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Arthur Keyser</span>. Crown 8vo, picture
+cover, <b>1s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>KING (R. ASHE), NOVELS BY.</b> Cr. 8vo, cl., 3s. 6d. ea.; Post 8vo, bds.,
+<b>2s.</b> ea.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A DRAWN GAME.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>"THE WEARING OF THE GREEN."</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>PASSION'S SLAVE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BELL BARRY.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>KNIGHTS (THE) OF THE LION:</b> A Romance of the Thirteenth Century. Edited,
+with an Introduction, by the <span class="smcap">Marquess of Lorne</span>, K.T. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex.,
+<b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>KNIGHT.&mdash;THE PATIENT'S VADE MECUM:</b> How to Get Most Benefit from Medical
+Advice. By <span class="smcap">William Knight</span>, M.R.C.S., and <span class="smcap">Edward Knight</span>, L.R.C.P. Crown
+8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>LAMB'S (CHARLES) COMPLETE WORKS,</b> in Prose and Verse, including "Poetry
+for Children" and "Prince Dorus." Edited, with Notes and Introduction,
+by <span class="smcap">R. H. Shepherd</span>. With Two Portraits and Facsimile of a page of the
+"Essay on Roast Pig." Crown 8vo, half-bound, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE ESSAYS OF ELIA.</b> Post 8vo, printed on laid paper and
+half-bound, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LITTLE ESSAYS:</b> Sketches and Characters by <b>Charles Lamb</b>,
+selected from his Letters by <span class="smcap">Percy Fitzgerald</span>. Post 8vo,
+cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE DRAMATIC ESSAYS OF CHARLES LAMB.</b> With Introduction and
+Notes by <span class="smcap">Brander Matthews</span>, and Steel-plate Portrait. Fcap.
+8vo, hf.-bd., <b>2s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>LANDOR.&mdash;CITATION AND EXAMINATION OF WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE,</b> &amp;c., before Sir
+<span class="smcap">Thomas Lucy</span>, touching Deer-stealing, 19th September, 1582. To which Is
+added, <b>A CONFERENCE OF MASTER EDMUND SPENSER</b> with the Earl of Essex,
+touching the State of Ireland, 1595. By <span class="smcap">Walter Savage Landor</span>. Fcap. 8vo,
+half-Roxburghe, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>LANE.&mdash;THE THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS,</b> commonly called in England <b>THE
+ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS</b>. Translated from the Arabic, with Notes,
+by <span class="smcap">Edward William Lane</span>. Illustrated by many hundred Engravings from
+Designs by <span class="smcap">Harvey</span>. Edited by <span class="smcap">Edward Stanley Poole</span>. With a Preface by
+<span class="smcap">Stanley Lane-Poole</span>. Three Vols., demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>LARWOOD (JACOB), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE STORY OF THE LONDON PARKS.</b> With Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl.
+extra, <b>3s 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ANECDOTES OF THE CLERGY:</b> The Antiquities, Humours, and
+Eccentricities of the Cloth. Post 8vo, printed on laid paper
+and half-bound, 2s.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>FORENSIC ANECDOTES.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THEATRICAL ANECDOTES.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>LEIGH (HENRY S.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>CAROLS OF COCKAYNE.</b> Printed on hand-made paper, bound in
+buckram, <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>JEUX D'ESPRIT.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">Henry S. Leigh</span>. Post 8vo, cloth
+limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>LEYS (JOHN).&mdash;THE LINDSAYS:</b> A Romance. Post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>LIFE IN LONDON;</b> or, The History of <span class="smcap">Jerry Hawthorn</span> and <span class="smcap">Corinthian Tom</span>.
+With <span class="smcap">Cruikshank</span>'s Coloured Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s.
+6d.</b> [<i>New Edition preparing.</i>]</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>LINTON (E. LYNN), WORKS BY.</b> Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>WITCH STORIES.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>OURSELVES:</b> <span class="smcap">Essays on Women</span>.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>SOWING THE WIND.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>PATRICIA KEMBALL.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ATONEMENT OF LEAM DUNDAS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE WORLD WELL LOST.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>UNDER WHICH LORD?</b></p>
+
+<p><b>"MY LOVE!"</b></p>
+
+<p><b>IONE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>PASTON CAREW,</b> Millionaire &amp; Miser.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE REBEL OF THE FAMILY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WITH A SILKEN THREAD.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>FREESHOOTING:</b> Extracts from the Works of Mrs. <span class="smcap">Lynn Linton</span>.
+Post 8vo, cloth, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>LONGFELLOW'S POETICAL WORKS.</b> With numerous Illustrations on Steel and
+Wood. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>LUCY.&mdash;GIDEON FLEYCE:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Henry W. Lucy</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+<b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>LUSIAD (THE) OF CAMOENS.</b> Translated into English Spenserian Verse by
+<span class="smcap">Robert Ffrench Duff</span>. With 14 Plates. Demy 8vo, cloth boards, <b>18s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MACALPINE (AVERY), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>TERESA ITASCA,</b> and other Stories. Crown 8vo, bound in
+canvas, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BROKEN WINGS.</b> With 6 Illusts. by <span class="smcap">W. J. Hennessy</span>. Crown 8vo,
+cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MACCOLL (HUGH), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>MR. STRANGER'S SEALED PACKET.</b> Second Edition. Crown 8vo, cl.
+extra, <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>EDNOR WHITLOCK,</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra. <b>6s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MACDONELL.&mdash;QUAKER COUSINS:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Agnes Macdonell</span>. Crown 8vo,
+cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>McCARTHY (JUSTIN, M.P.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES,</b> from the Accession of Queen
+Victoria to the General Election of 1880. Four Vols, demy
+8vo, cloth extra, <b>12s.</b> each.&mdash;Also a <span class="smcap">Popular Edition</span>, in
+Four Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> each.&mdash;And a <span class="smcap">Jubilee
+Edition</span>, with an Appendix of Events to the end of 1886, in
+Two Vols., large crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<p><b>A SHORT HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES.</b> One Vol., crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>6s.</b>&mdash;Also a <span class="smcap">Cheap Popular Edition</span>, post 8vo, cloth
+limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES.</b> Four Vols, demy 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>12s.</b> each. [Vols. I. &amp; II. <i>ready</i>.]</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards. <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE WATERDALE NEIGHBOURS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MY ENEMY'S DAUGHTER.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A FAIR SAXON.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LINLEY ROCHFORD.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>DEAR LADY DISDAIN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MISS MISANTHROPE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>DONNA QUIXOTE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE COMET OF A SEASON.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MAID OF ATHENS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CAMIOLA:</b> A Girl with a Fortune.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>"THE RIGHT HONOURABLE."</b> By <span class="smcap">Justin McCarthy</span>, M.P., and Mrs.
+<span class="smcap">Campbell-Praed</span>. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>McCARTHY (JUSTIN H., M.P.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.</b> Four Vols., 8vo, <b>12s.</b> each. [Vols. I.
+&amp; II. <i>ready</i>.]</p>
+
+<p><b>AN OUTLINE OF THE HISTORY OF IRELAND.</b> Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth,
+<b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>IRELAND SINCE THE UNION:</b> Irish History, 1798-1886. Crown
+8vo, cloth, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p><b>HAFIZ IN LONDON:</b> Poems. Small 8vo, gold cloth, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>HARLEQUINADE:</b> Poems. Small 4to, Japanese vellum, <b>8s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p><b>OUR SENSATION NOVEL.</b> Crown 8vo, picture cover, <b>1s.</b>; cloth
+limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>DOOM!</b> An Atlantic Episode. Crown 8vo, picture cover, <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>DOLLY:</b> A Sketch. Crown 8vo, picture cover. <b>1s.</b>; cloth limp,
+<b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LILY LASS:</b> A Romance. Crown 8vo, picture cover, <b>1s.</b>; cloth
+limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE THOUSAND AND ONE DAYS:</b> Persian Tales. Edited by <span class="smcap">Justin
+H. McCarthy</span>. With 2 Photogravures by <span class="smcap">Stanley L. Wood</span>. Two
+Vols., crown 8vo, half-bound, <b>12s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MACDONALD (GEORGE, LL.D.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>WORKS OF FANCY AND IMAGINATION.</b> Ten Vols., cl. extra, gilt
+edges, in cloth case, <b>21s.</b> Or the Vols. may be had
+separately, in grolier cl., at <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. I. <span class="smcap">Within and Without.&mdash;The Hidden Life</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. II. <span class="smcap">The Disciple.&mdash;The Gospel Women.&mdash;Book of
+Sonnets.&mdash;Organ Songs</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. III. <span class="smcap">Violin Songs.&mdash;Songs of the Days and Nights.&mdash;A
+Book of Dreams.&mdash;Roadside Poems.&mdash;Poems for Children</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. IV. <span class="smcap">Parables.&mdash;Ballads.&mdash;Scotch Songs</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. V. &amp; VI. <span class="smcap">Phantastes:</span> A Faerie Romance.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. VII. <span class="smcap">The Portent</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. VIII. <span class="smcap">The Light Princess.&mdash;The Giant's Heart.&mdash;Shadows</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. IX. <span class="smcap">Cross Purposes.&mdash;The Golden Key.&mdash;The
+Carasoyn.&mdash;Little Daylight</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. X. <span class="smcap">The Cruel Painter.&mdash;The Wow o' Rivven.&mdash;The
+Castle.&mdash;The Broken Swords.&mdash;The Gray Wolf.&mdash;Uncle
+Cornelius</span>.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p><b>THE POETICAL WORKS OF DR. GEORGE MACDONALD.</b> Collected and
+arranged by the Author. 2 vols., crown 8vo, buckram, <b>12s.</b>
+[<i>Shortly.</i>]</p>
+
+<p><b>A THREEFOLD CORD.</b> Poems by Three Friends. Edited by Dr.
+<span class="smcap">George MacDonald</span>. Post 8vo, cloth, <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>HEATHER AND SNOW:</b> A Novel. 2 vols., crown 8vo, [<i>Shortly.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MACGREGOR.&mdash;PASTIMES AND PLAYERS:</b> Notes on Popular Games. By <span class="smcap">Robert
+Macgregor</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MACKAY.&mdash;INTERLUDES AND UNDERTONES;</b> or, Music at Twilight. By <span class="smcap">Charles
+Mackay</span>, LL.D. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MACLISE PORTRAIT GALLERY (THE) OF ILLUSTRIOUS LITERARY CHARACTERS: 85
+PORTRAITS;</b> with Memoirs&mdash;Biographical, Critical, Bibliographical, and
+Anecdotal&mdash;illustrative of the Literature of the former half of the
+Present Century, by <span class="smcap">William Bates</span>, B.A. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MACQUOID (MRS.), WORKS BY.</b> Square 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>IN THE ARDENNES.</b> With 50 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Thomas R.
+Macquoid</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>PICTURES AND LEGENDS FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY.</b> With 34
+Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Thomas R. Macquoid</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THROUGH NORMANDY.</b> With 92 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">T. R. Macquoid</span>,
+and a Map.</p>
+
+<p><b>THROUGH BRITTANY.</b> With 35 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">T. R. Macquoid</span>,
+and a Map.</p>
+
+<p><b>ABOUT YORKSHIRE</b>. With 67 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">T. R. Macquoid</span>.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE EVIL EYE,</b> and other Stories.</p>
+
+<p><b>LOST ROSE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MAGIC LANTERN, THE,</b> and its Management: including full Practical
+Directions for producing the Limelight, making Oxygen Gas, and preparing
+Lantern Slides. By <span class="smcap">T. C. Hepworth</span>. With 10 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, <b>1s.</b>;
+cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MAGICIAN'S OWN BOOK, THE:</b> Performances with Cups and Balls, Eggs, Hats,
+Handkerchiefs, &amp;c. All from actual Experience. Edited by <span class="smcap">W. H. Cremer</span>.
+With 200 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>4s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MAGNA CHARTA:</b> An Exact Facsimile of the Original in the British Museum,
+3 feet by 2 feet, with Arms and Seals emblazoned in Gold and Colours,
+<b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MALLOCK (W. H.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE NEW REPUBLIC.</b> Post 8vo, picture cover, <b>2s.</b>; cloth limp,
+<b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE NEW PAUL &amp; VIRGINIA:</b> Positivism on an Island. Post 8vo,
+cloth, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>POEMS.</b> Small 4to, parchment, <b>8s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>IS LIFE WORTH LIVING?</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A ROMANCE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>6s.</b>
+[<i>Shortly.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MALLORY'S (SIR THOMAS) MORT D'ARTHUR:</b> The Stories of King Arthur and of
+the Knights of the Round Table. (A Selection.) Edited by <span class="smcap">B. Montgomerie
+Ranking</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MARK TWAIN, WORKS BY.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE CHOICE WORKS OF MARK TWAIN.</b> Revised and Corrected
+throughout by the Author. With Life, Portrait, and numerous
+Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>ROUGHING IT,</b> and <b>INNOCENTS AT HOME.</b> With 200 Illusts. by <span class="smcap">F.
+A. Fraser</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>MARK TWAIN'S LIBRARY OF HUMOUR.</b> With 197 Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>A YANKEE AT THE COURT OF KING ARTHUR.</b> With 220 Illusts. by
+<span class="smcap">Beard</span>.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra (illustrated), <b>7s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illust.
+boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE INNOCENTS ABROAD;</b> or, New Pilgrim's Progress. With 234
+Illustrations. (The Two-Shilling Edition is entitled <b>MARK
+TWAIN'S PLEASURE TRIP</b>.)</p>
+
+<p><b>THE GILDED AGE.</b> By <span class="smcap">Mark Twain</span> and <span class="smcap">C. D. Warner</span>. With 212
+Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER.</b> With 111 Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>A TRAMP ABROAD.</b> With 314 Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER.</b> With 190 Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>LIFE ON THE MISSISSIPPI.</b> With 300 Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN.</b> With 174 Illusts. by <span class="smcap">E. W.
+Kemble</span>.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p><b>MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE STOLEN WHITE ELEPHANT,</b> &amp;c. Cr. 8vo, cl., <b>6s.</b>; post 8vo,
+illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT.</b> With 81 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Hal Hurst</span>
+and <span class="smcap">Dan Beard</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MARLOWE'S WORKS.</b> Including his Translations. Edited, with Notes and
+Introductions, by Col. <span class="smcap">Cunningham</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MARRYAT (FLORENCE), NOVELS BY.</b> Post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A HARVEST OF WILD OATS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>OPEN! SESAME!</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FIGHTING THE AIR.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WRITTEN IN FIRE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MASSINGER'S PLAYS.</b> From the Text of <span class="smcap">William Gifford</span>. Edited by Col.
+<span class="smcap">Cunningham</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MASTERMAN.&mdash;HALF-A-DOZEN DAUGHTERS:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">J. Masterman</span>. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MATTHEWS.&mdash;A SECRET OF THE SEA,</b> &amp;c. By <span class="smcap">Brander Matthews</span>. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MAYHEW.&mdash;LONDON CHARACTERS AND THE HUMOROUS SIDE OF LONDON LIFE.</b> By
+<span class="smcap">Henry Mayhew</span>. With Illusts. Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MENKEN.&mdash;INFELICIA:</b> Poems by <span class="smcap">Adah Isaacs Menken</span>. With Illustrations by
+<span class="smcap">F. E. Lummis</span> and <span class="smcap">F. O. C. Darley</span>. Small 4to, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MERRICK.&mdash;THE MAN WHO WAS GOOD.</b> By <span class="smcap">Leonard Merrick</span>, Author of "Violet
+Moses," &amp;c.&mdash;Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> [<i>Shortly.</i>]</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MEXICAN MUSTANG (ON A),</b> through Texas to the Rio Grande. By <span class="smcap">A. E. Sweet</span>
+and <span class="smcap">J. Armoy Knox</span>. With 265 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MIDDLEMASS (JEAN), NOVELS BY.</b> Post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>TOUCH AND GO.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MR. DORILLION.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MILLER.&mdash;PHYSIOLOGY FOR THE YOUNG;</b> or, The House of Life: Human
+Physiology, with its application to the Preservation of Health. By Mrs.
+<span class="smcap">F. Fenwick-Miller</span>. With numerous Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth limp,
+<b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MILTON (J. L.), WORKS BY.</b> Post 8vo, <b>1s.</b> each; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE HYGIENE OF THE SKIN.</b> With Directions for Diet, Soaps,
+Baths, &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE BATH IN DISEASES OF THE SKIN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE LAWS OF LIFE, AND THEIR RELATION TO DISEASES OF THE
+SKIN.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p><b>THE SUCCESSFUL TREATMENT OF LEPROSY.</b> Demy 8vo, <b>1s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MINTO (WM.)&mdash;WAS SHE GOOD OR BAD?</b> Cr. 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MOLESWORTH (MRS.), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>HATHERCOURT RECTORY.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THAT GIRL IN BLACK.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MOORE (THOMAS), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE EPICUREAN; and ALCIPHRON.</b> Post 8vo, half-bound, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>PROSE AND VERSE,</b> Humorous, Satirical, and Sentimental, by
+<span class="smcap">Thomas Moore</span>; with Suppressed Passages from the <span class="smcap">Memoirs of
+Lord Byron</span>. Edited by <span class="smcap">R. Herne Shepherd</span>. With Portrait.
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MUDDOCK (J. E.), STORIES BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>STORIES WEIRD AND WONDERFUL.</b> Post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b>;
+cloth, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE DEAD MAN'S SECRET;</b> or, The Valley of Gold. With
+Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">F. Barnard</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b>;
+post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MAID MARIAN AND ROBIN HOOD:</b> A Romance of Old Sherwood
+Forest. With 12 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Stanley L. Wood</span>. Crown 8vo,
+cloth extra, <b>5s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MURRAY (D. CHRISTIE), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A LIFE'S ATONEMENT.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>JOSEPH'S COAT.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>COALS OF FIRE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>VAL STRANGE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>HEARTS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WAY OF THE WORLD.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A MODEL FATHER.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>OLD BLAZER'S HERO.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BY THE GATE OF THE SEA.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A BIT OF HUMAN NATURE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FIRST PERSON SINGULAR.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CYNIC FORTUNE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>BOB MARTIN'S LITTLE GIRL.</b> Three Vols., crown 8vo, [<i>Sept.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MURRAY (D. CHRISTIE) &amp; HENRY HERMAN, WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ONE TRAVELLER RETURNS.</b> Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>6s.</b>; post 8vo,
+illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>PAUL JONES'S ALIAS.</b> With 13 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">A. Forestier</span>
+and <span class="smcap">G. Nicolet</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE BISHOPS' BIBLE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>MURRAY (HENRY), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A GAME OF BLUFF.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>; cloth,
+<b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A SONG OF SIXPENCE.</b> Post 8vo, cloth extra, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>NEWBOLT.&mdash;TAKEN FROM THE ENEMY.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henry Newbolt</span>. Fcap. 8vo, cloth
+boards, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>NISBET (HUME) BOOKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>"BAIL UP!"</b> A Romance of <span class="smcap">Bushrangers and Blacks</span>. Cr. 8vo, cl.
+ex., <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LESSONS IN ART.</b> With 21 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WHERE ART BEGINS.</b> With 27 Illusts. Square 8vo, cloth extra,
+<b>7s. 6d.</b> [<i>Shortly.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>NOVELISTS.&mdash;HALF-HOURS WITH THE BEST NOVELISTS OF THE CENTURY.</b> Edit. by
+<span class="smcap">H. T. Mackenzie Bell</span>. Cr. 8vo, cl., <b>3s. 6d.</b> [<i>Preparing.</i>]</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>O'HANLON (ALICE), NOVELS BY.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE UNFORESEEN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CHANCE? OR FATE?</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>OHNET (GEORGES), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>DOCTOR RAMEAU.</b> 9 Illusts. by <span class="smcap">E. Bayard</span>. Cr. 8vo, cl., <b>6s.</b>;
+post 8vo, bds., <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A LAST LOVE.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>5s.</b>; post 8vo, boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A WEIRD GIFT.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, boards,
+<b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>OLIPHANT (MRS.), NOVELS BY.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE PRIMROSE PATH.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE GREATEST HEIRESS IN ENGLAND.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>WHITELADIES.</b> With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Arthur Hopkins</span> and <span class="smcap">Henry
+Woods</span>, A.R.A. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>O'REILLY (HARRINGTON).&mdash;FIFTY YEARS ON THE TRAIL:</b> Adventures of <span class="smcap">John Y.
+Nelson</span>. 100 Illusts. by <span class="smcap">P. Frenzeny</span>. Crown 8vo, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>O'REILLY (MRS.).-PH&OElig;BE'S FORTUNES.</b> Post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>O'SHAUGHNESSY (ARTHUR), POEMS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>LAYS OF FRANCE.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>10s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MUSIC AND MOONLIGHT.</b> Fcap. 8vo, cloth extra. <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SONGS OF A WORKER.</b> Fcap. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>OUIDA, NOVELS BY.</b> Cr. 8vo, cl., <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illust. bds.,
+<b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>HELD IN BONDAGE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>TRICOTRIN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>STRATHMORE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CHANDOS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CECIL CASTLEMAINE'S GAGE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>IDALIA.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>UNDER TWO FLAGS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>PUCK.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FOLLE-FARINE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A DOG OF FLANDERS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>PASCAREL.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>TWO LITTLE WOODEN SHOES.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SIGNA.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>IN A WINTER CITY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ARIADNE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FRIENDSHIP.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MOTHS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>PIPISTRELLO.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A VILLAGE COMMUNE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>IN MAREMMA.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BIMBI.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SYRLIN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WANDA.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FRESCOES.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>OTHMAR.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>PRINCESS NAPRAXINE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>GUILDEROY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>RUFFINO.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>BIMBI.</b> Presentation Edition, with Nine Illustrations by
+<span class="smcap">Edmund H. Garrett</span>. Square 8vo, cloth, <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SANTA BARBARA,</b> &amp;c. Second Edition. Square 8vo, cloth, <b>6s.</b>;
+cr. 8vo, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WISDOM, WIT, AND PATHOS,</b> selected from the Works of <span class="smcap">Ouida</span> by
+<span class="smcap">F. Sydney Morris</span>. Post 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b> <span class="smcap">Cheap Edition</span>,
+illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>PAGE (H.A.) WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THOREAU:</b> His Life and Aims. With Portrait. Post 8vo, cloth
+limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ANIMAL ANECDOTES.</b> Arranged on a New Principle. Crown 8vo,
+cloth extra, <b>5s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>PARLIAMENTARY ELECTIONS AND ELECTIONEERING, A HISTORY OF,</b> from the
+Stuarts to Queen Victoria. By <span class="smcap">Joseph Grego</span>. A New Edition, with 93
+Illustrations. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>PASCAL'S PROVINCIAL LETTERS.</b> A New Translation, with Historical
+Introduction and Notes by <span class="smcap">T. M'Crie</span>, D.D. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>PAUL.&mdash;GENTLE AND SIMPLE.</b> By <span class="smcap">Margaret A. Paul</span>. With Frontispiece by
+<span class="smcap">Helen Paterson</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>PAYN (JAMES), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra. <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards. <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>LOST SIR MASSINGBERD.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WALTER'S WORD.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LESS BLACK THAN WE'RE PAINTED.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BY PROXY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>HIGH SPIRITS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>UNDER ONE ROOF.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A CONFIDENTIAL AGENT.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A GRAPE FROM A THORN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FROM EXILE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE CANON'S WARD.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE TALK OF THE TOWN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>HOLIDAY TASKS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>GLOW-WORM TALES.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE MYSTERY OF MIRBRIDGE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE WORD AND THE WILL.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>HUMOROUS STORIES.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE FOSTER BROTHERS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE FAMILY SCAPEGRACE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MARRIED BENEATH HIM.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BENTINCK'S TUTOR.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A PERFECT TREASURE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A COUNTY FAMILY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A WOMAN'S VENGEANCE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CARLYON'S YEAR.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CECIL'S TRYST.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MURPHY'S MASTER.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>AT HER MERCY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE CLYFFARDS OF CLYFFE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FOUND DEAD.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>GWENDOLINE'S HARVEST.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A MARINE RESIDENCE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MIRK ABBEY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SOME PRIVATE VIEWS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>NOT WOOED, BUT WON.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>TWO HUNDRED POUNDS REWARD.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE BEST OF HUSBANDS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>HALVES.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE BURNT MILLION.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FALLEN FORTUNES.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WHAT HE COST HER.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>KIT: A MEMORY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FOR CASH ONLY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A PRINCE OF THE BLOOD.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>IN PERIL AND PRIVATION:</b> Stories of <span class="smcap">Marine Adventure</span>. With 17
+Illusts.</p>
+
+<p><b>SUNNY STORIES, and some SHADY ONES.</b> Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Fred.
+Barnard</span>.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>NOTES FROM THE "NEWS."</b> Crown 8vo, portrait cover, <b>1s.</b>;
+cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>PENNELL (H. CHOLMONDELEY), WORKS BY.</b> Post 8vo, cl., <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>PUCK ON PEGASUS.</b> With Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>PEGASUS RE-SADDLED.</b> With Ten full-page Illustrations by <span class="smcap">G.
+Du Maurier</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE MUSES OF MAYFAIR.</b> Vers de Soci&eacute;t&eacute;, Selected by <span class="smcap">H. C.
+Pennell</span>.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>PHELPS (E. STUART), WORKS BY.</b> Post 8vo, <b>1s.</b> each: cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>BEYOND THE GATES.</b> By the Author of "The Gates Ajar."</p>
+
+<p><b>AN OLD MAID'S PARADISE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BURGLARS IN PARADISE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>JACK THE FISHERMAN.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">C. W. Reed</span>. Cr. 8vo, <b>1s.</b>;
+cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>PIRKIS (C. L.), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>TROOPING WITH CROWS.</b> Fcap. 8vo, picture cover, <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LADY LOVELACE.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>PLANCHE (J. R.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE PURSUIVANT OF ARMS;</b> or, Heraldry Founded upon Facts.
+With Coloured Frontispiece, Five Plates, and 209 Illusts.
+Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SONGS AND POEMS,</b> 1819-1879. Introduction by Mrs. <span class="smcap">Mackarness</span>.
+Cr. 8vo, cl., <b>6s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>PLUTARCH'S LIVES OF ILLUSTRIOUS MEN.</b> Translated from the Greek, with
+Notes Critical and Historical, and a Life of Plutarch, by <span class="smcap">John</span> and
+<span class="smcap">William Langhorne</span>. With Portraits. Two Vols., demy 8vo, half-bound, <b>10s.
+6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>POE'S (EDGAR ALLAN) CHOICE WORKS,</b> in Prose and Poetry. Introduction by
+<span class="smcap">Chas. Baudelaire</span>, Portrait, and Facsimiles. Cr. 8vo, cloth, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET,</b> &amp;c. Post 8vo, illustrated
+boards, <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>POPE'S POETICAL WORKS.</b> Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>PRICE (E. C.), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards. <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>VALENTINA.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE FOREIGNERS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MRS. LANCASTER'S RIVAL.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>GERALD.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>PRINCESS OLGA.&mdash;RADNA;</b> or, The Great Conspiracy of 1881. By the Princess
+<span class="smcap">Olga</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>PROCTOR (RICHARD A., B.A.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>FLOWERS OF THE SKY.</b> With 55 Illusts. Small crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>EASY STAR LESSONS.</b> With Star Maps for Every Night in the
+Year, Drawings of the Constellations, &amp;c. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FAMILIAR SCIENCE STUDIES.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SATURN AND ITS SYSTEM.</b> With 13 Steel Plates. Demy 8vo, cloth
+ex., <b>10s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MYSTERIES OF TIME AND SPACE.</b> With Illustrations. Cr. 8vo,
+cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE UNIVERSE OF SUNS.</b> With numerous Illustrations. Cr. 8vo,
+cloth ex., <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WAGES AND WANTS OF SCIENCE WORKERS.</b> Crown 8vo, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>PRYCE.&mdash;MISS MAXWELL'S AFFECTIONS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Richard Pryce</span>, Author of "No
+Impediment." With a Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Hal Ludlow</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+<b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>RAMBOSSON.&mdash;POPULAR ASTRONOMY.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. Rambosson</span>, Laureate of the
+Institute of France. With numerous Illusts. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s.
+6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>RANDOLPH.&mdash;AUNT ABIGAIL DYKES:</b> A Novel. By Lt.-Colonel <span class="smcap">George Randolph</span>,
+U.S.A. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>READE (CHARLES), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, illustrated, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illust.
+bds., <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>PEG WOFFINGTON.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">S. L. Fildes</span>, R.A.&mdash;Also a
+<span class="smcap">Pocket Edition</span>, set in New Type, in Elzevir style, fcap.
+8vo, half-leather, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">William Small</span>.&mdash;Also a
+<span class="smcap">Pocket Edition</span>, set in New Type, in Elzevir style, fcap.
+8vo, half-leather, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">G. J. Pinwell</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE NEVER DID RUN SMOOTH.</b> Illustrated by
+<span class="smcap">Helen Paterson</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A THIEF,</b> &amp;c. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Matt
+Stretch</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">M. Ellen
+Edwards</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE DOUBLE MARRIAGE.</b> Illusts. by Sir <span class="smcap">John Gilbert</span>, R.A., and
+<span class="smcap">C. Keene</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Charles Keene</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>HARD CASH.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">F. W. Lawson</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>GRIFFITH GAUNT.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">S. L. Fildes</span>, R.A., and
+<span class="smcap">William Small</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>FOUL PLAY.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">George Du Maurier</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Robert Barnes</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Edward Hughes</span> and <span class="smcap">A.
+W. Cooper</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>A SIMPLETON.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Kate Craufurd</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE WANDERING HEIR.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Helen Paterson</span>, <span class="smcap">S. L.
+Fildes</span>, R.A., <span class="smcap">C. Green</span>, and <span class="smcap">Henry Woods</span>, A.R.A.</p>
+
+<p><b>A WOMAN-HATER.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Thomas Couldery</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>SINGLEHEART AND DOUBLEFACE.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">P. Macnab</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>GOOD STORIES OF MEN AND OTHER ANIMALS.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">E. A.
+Abbey</span>, <span class="smcap">Percy Macquoid</span>, R.W.S., and <span class="smcap">Joseph Nash</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE JILT,</b> and other Stories. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Joseph Nash</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>A PERILOUS SECRET.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Fred. Barnard</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>READIANA.</b> With a Steel-plate Portrait of <span class="smcap">Charles Reade</span>.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p><b>BIBLE CHARACTERS:</b> Studies of David, Paul, &amp;c. Fcap. 8vo,
+leatherette, <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p><b>SELECTIONS FROM THE WORKS OF CHARLES READE.</b> With an
+Introduction by Mrs. <span class="smcap">Alex. Ireland</span>, and a Steel-Plate
+Portrait. Crown 8vo, buckram, <b>6s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>RIDDELL (MRS. J. H.), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each: post 8vo, illustrated
+boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE PRINCE OF WALES'S GARDEN PARTY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WEIRD STORIES.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE UNINHABITED HOUSE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MYSTERY IN PALACE GARDENS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FAIRY WATER.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>HER MOTHER'S DARLING.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE NUN'S CURSE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>IDLE TALES.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>RIMMER (ALFRED), WORKS BY.</b> Square 8vo, cloth gilt, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>OUR OLD COUNTRY TOWNS.</b> With 55 Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>RAMBLES ROUND ETON AND HARROW.</b> With 50 Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>ABOUT ENGLAND WITH DICKENS.</b> With 58 Illusts. by <span class="smcap">C. A.
+Vanderhoof</span>, &amp;c.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>RIVES (Am&eacute;lie).&mdash;BARBARA DERING.</b> By <span class="smcap">Am&eacute;lie Rives</span>, Author of "The Quick
+or the Dead?" Two Vols., crown 8vo.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ROBINSON CRUSOE.</b> By <span class="smcap">Daniel Defoe</span>. (<span class="smcap">Major's Edition</span>.) With 37
+Illustrations by <span class="smcap">George Cruikshank</span>. Post 8vo, half-bound, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ROBINSON (F. W.), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>WOMEN ARE STRANGE.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE HANDS OF JUSTICE.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post
+8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ROBINSON (PHIL), WORKS BY.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE POETS' BIRDS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE POETS' BEASTS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE POETS AND NATURE: REPTILES, FISHES, INSECTS.</b>
+[<i>Preparing.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ROCHEFOUCAULD'S MAXIMS AND MORAL REFLECTION.</b> With Notes, and an
+Introductory Essay by <span class="smcap">Sainte-Beuve</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ROLL OF BATTLE-ABBEY, THE:</b> A List of the Principal Warriors who came
+from Normandy with William the Conqueror, and Settled in this Country,
+<span class="smcap">a.d</span>. 1066-7. With Arms emblazoned in Gold and Colours. Handsomely
+printed, <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ROWLEY (HON. HUGH), WORKS BY.</b> Post 8vo, cloth, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>PUNIANA: RIDDLES AND JOKES.</b> With numerous Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>MORE PUNIANA.</b> Profusely Illustrated.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>RUNCIMAN (JAMES), STORIES BY.</b> Post 8vo, bds., <b>2s.</b> ea.; cl., <b>2s. 6d.</b> ea.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>SKIPPERS AND SHELLBACKS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SCHOOLS AND SCHOLARS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>GRACE BALMAIGN'S SWEETHEART.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>RUSSELL (W. CLARK), BOOKS AND NOVELS BY:</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ROUND THE GALLEY-FIRE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>IN THE MIDDLE WATCH.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A BOOK FOR THE HAMMOCK.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MYSTERY OF THE "OCEAN STAR."</b></p>
+
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+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>AN OCEAN TRAGEDY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MY SHIPMATE LOUISE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ALONE ON A WIDE WIDE SEA.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ON THE FO'K'SLE HEAD.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
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+
+<p><b>SAINT AUBYN (ALAN), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A FELLOW OF TRINITY.</b> With a Note by <span class="smcap">Oliver Wendell Holmes</span>
+and a Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post
+8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE JUNIOR DEAN.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Fcap. 8vo, cloth boards, <b>1s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE OLD MAID'S SWEETHEART.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MODEST LITTLE SARA.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SALA (G. A.).&mdash;GASLIGHT AND DAYLIGHT.</b> Post 8vo, boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SANSON.&mdash;SEVEN GENERATIONS OF EXECUTIONERS:</b> Memoirs of the Sanson Family
+(1688 to 1847). Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
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+<p><b>SAUNDERS (JOHN), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>GUY WATERMAN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE LION IN THE PATH.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE TWO DREAMERS.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>BOUND TO THE WHEEL.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
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+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>MARGARET AND ELIZABETH.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE HIGH MILLS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>HEART SALVAGE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SEBASTIAN.</b></p></div>
+
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+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>JOAN MERRYWEATHER.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
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+
+<p><b>SCIENCE-GOSSIP:</b> An Illustrated Medium of Interchange for
+Students and Lovers of Nature. Edited by Dr. <span class="smcap">J. E. Taylor</span>,
+F.L.S., &amp;c. Devoted to Geology, Botany, Physiology,
+Chemistry, Zoology, Microscopy, Telescopy, Physiography,
+Photography, &amp;c. Price <b>4d.</b> Monthly; or <b>5s.</b> per year,
+post-free. Vols. I. to XIX. may be had, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each; Vols.
+XX. to date, <b>5s.</b> each. Cases for Binding, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SECRET OUT, THE:</b> One Thousand Tricks with Cards; with
+Entertaining Experiments in Drawing-room or "White Magic."
+By <span class="smcap">W. H. Cremer</span>. With 300 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>4s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SEGUIN (L. G.), WORKS BY:</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE COUNTRY OF THE PASSION PLAY (OBERAMMERGAU)</b> and the
+Highlands of Bavaria. With Map and 37 Illustrations. Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WALKS IN ALGIERS.</b> With 2 Maps and 16 Illusts. Crown 8vo,
+cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SENIOR (WM.).&mdash;BY STREAM AND SEA.</b> Post 8vo, cloth, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SHAKESPEARE FOR CHILDREN: LAMB'S TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.</b> With
+Illustrations, coloured and plain, by <span class="smcap">J. Moyr Smith</span>. Cr. 4to, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SHARP.&mdash;CHILDREN OF TO-MORROW:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">William Sharp</span>. Crown 8vo,
+cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SHARP (LUKE)&mdash;IN A STEAMER CHAIR.</b> By <span class="smcap">Luke Sharp</span> (<span class="smcap">R. E. Barr</span>). With Two
+Illusts. by <span class="smcap">Demain Hammond</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SHELLEY.&mdash;THE COMPLETE WORKS IN VERSE AND PROSE OF PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.</b>
+Edited, Prefaced, and Annotated by <span class="smcap">R. Herne Shepherd</span>. Five Vols., crown
+8vo, cloth boards, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>POETICAL WORKS,</b> in Three Vols.:</p>
+
+<p>Vol. I. Introduction by the Editor; Posthumous Fragments of
+Margaret Nicholson; Shelley's Correspondence with Stockdale;
+The Wandering Jew; Queen Mab, with the Notes; Alastor, and
+other Poems; Rosalind and Helen; Prometheus Unbound;
+Adonais, &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. II. Laon and Cythna; The Cenci; Julian and Maddalo;
+Swellfoot the Tyrant; The Witch of Atlas; Epipsychidion:
+Hellas.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. III. Posthumous Poems; The Masque of Anarchy; and other
+Pieces.</p>
+
+<p><b>PROSE WORKS,</b> in Two Vols.:</p>
+
+<p>Vol. I. The Two Romances of Zastrozzi and St. Irvyne; the
+Dublin and Marlow Pamphlets; A Refutation of Deism; Letters
+to Leigh Hunt, and some Minor Writings and Fragments.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. II. The Essays; Letters from Abroad; Translations and
+Fragments. Edited by Mrs. <span class="smcap">Shelley</span>. With a Bibliography of
+Shelley, and an Index of the Prose Works.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SHERARD.&mdash;ROGUES:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">R. H. Shepard</span>. Crown 8vo, picture cover,
+<b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SHERIDAN (GENERAL).&mdash;PERSONAL MEMOIRS OF GENERAL P. H. SHERIDAN.</b> With
+Portraits and Facsimiles. Two Vols., demy 8vo, cloth, <b>24s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SHERIDAN'S (RICHARD BRINSLEY) COMPLETE WORKS.</b> With Life and Anecdotes.
+Including his Dramatic Writings, his Works in Prose and Poetry.
+Translations, Speeches and Jokes. 10 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, hf.-bound, <b>7s.
+6d.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE RIVALS, THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL,</b> and other Plays. Post
+8vo, printed on laid paper and half-bound. <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SHERIDAN'S COMEDIES: THE RIVALS</b> and <b>THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL.</b>
+Edited, with an Introduction and Notes to each Play, and a
+Biographical Sketch, by <span class="smcap">Brander Matthews</span>. With
+Illustrations. Demy 8vo, half-parchment, <b>12s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SIDNEY'S (SIR PHILIP) COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS,</b> including all those in
+"Arcadia." With Portrait, Memorial Introduction, Notes, &amp;c. by the Rev.
+<span class="smcap">A. B. Grosart</span>, D.D. Three Vols., crown 8vo, cloth boards, <b>18s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SIGNBOARDS:</b> Their History. With Anecdotes of Famous Taverns and
+Remarkable Characters. By <span class="smcap">Jacob Larwood</span> and <span class="smcap">John Camden Hotten</span>. With
+Coloured Frontispiece and 94 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s.
+6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SIMS (GEORGE R.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>ROGUES AND VAGABONDS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE RING O' BELLS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MARY JANE'S MEMOIRS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MARY JANE MARRIED.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>TALES OF TODAY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>DRAMAS OF LIFE.</b> With 60 Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>TINKLETOP'S CRIME.</b> With a Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Maurice
+Greiffenhagen</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>ZEPH:</b> A Circus Story, &amp;c.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, picture cover, <b>1s.</b> each; cloth. <b>1s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>HOW THE POOR LIVE;</b> and <b>HORRIBLE LONDON.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE DAGONET RECITER AND READER:</b> being Readings and
+Recitations in Prose and Verse, selected from his own Works
+by <span class="smcap">George R. Sims</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>DAGONET DITTIES.</b> From the <i>Referee</i>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE CASE OF GEORGE CANDLEMAS.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SISTER DORA:</b> A Biography. By <span class="smcap">Margaret Lonsdale</span>. With Four Illustrations.
+Demy 8vo, picture cover, <b>4d.</b>; cloth, <b>6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SKETCHLEY.&mdash;A MATCH IN THE DARK.</b> By <span class="smcap">Arthur Sketchley</span>. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SLANG DICTIONARY (THE):</b> Etymological, Historical, and Anecdotal. Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SMITH (J. MOYR), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE PRINCE OF ARGOLIS.</b> With 130 Illusts. Post 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>TALES OF OLD THULE.</b> With numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo,
+cloth gilt, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE WOOING OF THE WATER WITCH.</b> Illustrated. Post 8vo, cloth,
+<b>6s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SOCIETY IN LONDON.</b> By <span class="smcap">A Foreign Resident</span>. Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SOCIETY IN PARIS:</b> The Upper Ten Thousand. A Series of Letters from Count
+<span class="smcap">Paul Vasili</span> to a Young French Diplomat. Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SOMERSET.&mdash;SONGS OF ADIEU.</b> By Lord <span class="smcap">Henry Somerset</span>. Small 4to, Japanese
+vellum, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SPALDING.&mdash;ELIZABETHAN DEMONOLOGY:</b> An Essay on the Belief in the
+Existence of Devils. By <span class="smcap">T. A. Spalding</span>, LL.B. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+<b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SPEIGHT (T. W.), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards. <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE MYSTERIES OF HERON DYKE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>DEVIOUS WAYS,</b> &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE GOLDEN HOOP.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>HOODWINKED;</b> and <b>THE SANDYCROFT MYSTERY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BACK TO LIFE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A BARREN TITLE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WIFE OR NO WIFE?</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE SANDYCROFT MYSTERY.</b> Crown 8vo, picture cover, <b>1s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SPENSER FOR CHILDREN.</b> By <span class="smcap">M. H. Towry</span>. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Walter J.
+Morgan</span>. Crown 4to, cloth gilt, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>STARRY HEAVENS (THE):</b> <span class="smcap">A Poetical Birthday Book</span>. Royal 16mo, cloth extra,
+<b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>STAUNTON.&mdash;THE LAWS AND PRACTICE OF CHESS.</b> With an Analysis of the
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+cloth extra, <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>STEDMAN (E. C.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>VICTORIAN POETS.</b> Thirteenth Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+<b>9s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE POETS OF AMERICA.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>9s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
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+8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illust. boards. <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>STEVENSON (R. LOUIS), WORKS BY.</b> Post 8vo, cl. limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>TRAVELS WITH A DONKEY.</b> Seventh Edit. With a Frontis. by
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+
+<p><b>AN INLAND VOYAGE.</b> Fourth Edition. With a Frontispiece by
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+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
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+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>FAMILIAR STUDIES OF MEN AND BOOKS.</b> Sixth Edition.</p>
+
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+
+<p><b>THE MERRY MEN.</b> Third Edition.</p>
+
+<p><b>UNDERWOODS:</b> Poems. Fifth Edition.</p>
+
+<p><b>MEMORIES AND PORTRAITS.</b> Third Edition.</p>
+
+<p><b>VIRGINIBUS PUERISQUE,</b> and other Papers. Seventh Edition.</p>
+
+<p><b>BALLADS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ACROSS THE PLAINS,</b> with other Memories and Essays.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p><b>NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS.</b> Eleventh Edition. Crown 8vo, buckram,
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+
+<p><b>THE SUICIDE CLUB;</b> and <b>THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND.</b> From <span class="smcap">New Arabian
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+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>PRINCE OTTO.</b> Sixth Edition. Post 8vo, illustrated boards,
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+
+<p><b>FATHER DAMIEN:</b> An Open Letter to the Rev. Dr. Hyde. Second
+Edition. Crown 8vo, hand-made and brown paper, <b>1s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>STODDARD.&mdash;SUMMER CRUISING IN THE SOUTH SEAS.</b> By <span class="smcap">C. Warren Stoddard</span>.
+Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Wallis Mackay</span>. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>STORIES FROM FOREIGN NOVELISTS.</b> With Notices by <span class="smcap">Helen</span> and <span class="smcap">Alice Zimmern</span>.
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>STRANGE MANUSCRIPT (A) FOUND IN A COPPER CYLINDER.</b> With 19 Illustrations
+by <span class="smcap">Gilbert Gaul</span>. Third Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>STRANGE SECRETS.</b> Told by <span class="smcap">Conan Doyle</span>, <span class="smcap">Percy Fitzgerald</span>, <span class="smcap">Florence
+Marryat</span>, &amp;c. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., Eight Illusts., <b>6s.</b>; post 8vo, illust.
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+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>STRUTT'S SPORTS AND PASTIMES OF THE PEOPLE OF ENGLAND;</b> including the
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+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SUBURBAN HOMES (THE) OF LONDON:</b> A Residential Guide. With a Map, and
+Notes on Rental, Rates, and Accommodation. Crown 8vo, cloth, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SWIFT'S (DEAN) CHOICE WORKS,</b> in Prose and Verse. With Memoir, Portrait,
+and Facsimiles of the Maps in "Gulliver's Travels." Cr. 8vo, cl., <b>7s.
+6d.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>GULLIVER'S TRAVELS,</b> and <b>A TALE OF A TUB.</b> Post 8vo, half-bound, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A MONOGRAPH ON SWIFT.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. Churton Collins</span>. Cr. 8vo, cloth,
+<b>8s.</b> [<i>Shortly.</i>]
+</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SWINBURNE (ALGERNON C.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>SELECTIONS FROM POETICAL WORKS OF A. C. SWINBURNE.</b> Fcap.
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+
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+
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+<p><b>POEMS AND BALLADS.</b> <span class="smcap">Third Series</span>. Crown 8vo, <b>7s.</b></p>
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+
+<p><b>BOTHWELL:</b> A Tragedy. Crown 8vo, <b>12s. 6d.</b></p>
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+<p><b>SONGS OF TWO NATIONS.</b> Cr. 8vo, <b>6s.</b></p>
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+<p><b>SONGS OF THE SPRINGTIDES.</b> Crown 8vo, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
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+<p><b>MARY STUART:</b> A Tragedy. Cr. 8vo, <b>8s.</b></p>
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+<p><b>A STUDY OF VICTOR HUGO.</b> Cr. 8vo, <b>6s.</b></p>
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+<p><b>LOCRINE:</b> A Tragedy. Cr. 8vo, <b>6s.</b></p>
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+<p><b>THE SISTERS:</b> A Tragedy. Cr. 8vo, <b>6s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SYMONDS.&mdash;WINE, WOMEN, AND SONG:</b> Medi&aelig;val Latin Students' Songs. With
+Essay and Trans. by <span class="smcap">J. Addington Symonds</span>. Fcap. 8vo, parchment, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>SYNTAX'S (DR.) THREE TOURS:</b> In Search of the Picturesque, in Search of
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+extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
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+
+<p><b>OUR COMMON BRITISH FOSSILS,</b> and Where to Find Them. 331
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+
+<p><b>THE PLAYTIME NATURALIST.</b> With 360 Illustrations. Crown 8vo,
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+<p><b>TAYLOR'S (TOM) HISTORICAL DRAMAS.</b> Containing "Clancarty." "Jeanne Darc,"
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+Photograph-Portrait. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
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+340 Illustrations Post 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
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+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE VIOLIN-PLAYER.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>PROUD MAISIE.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>CRESSIDA.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p></div>
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+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
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+Cunningham</span>, and 48 Illustrations. Post 8vo, half-bound, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>THORNBURY (WALTER), WORKS BY.</b> Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF J. M. W. TURNER.</b> Founded upon
+Letters and Papers furnished by his Friends. With
+Illustrations in Colours.</p>
+
+<p><b>HAUNTED LONDON.</b> Edit. by <span class="smcap">E. Walford</span>, M.A. Illusts. by <b>F. W.
+Fairholt</b>, F.S.A.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>OLD STORIES RE-TOLD.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>TALES FOR THE MARINES.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>TIMBS (JOHN), WORKS BY.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE HISTORY OF CLUBS AND CLUB LIFE IN LONDON:</b> Anecdotes of
+its Famous Coffee-houses, Hostelries, and Taverns. With 42
+Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><b>ENGLISH ECCENTRICS AND ECCENTRICITIES:</b> Stories of Delusions,
+Impostures, Sporting Scenes, Eccentric Artists, Theatrical
+Folk, &amp;c. 48 Illustrations.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>TROLLOPE (ANTHONY), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE WAY WE LIVE NOW.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>KEPT IN THE DARK.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>FRAU FROHMANN.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MARION FAY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MR. SCARBOROUGH'S FAMILY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE LAND-LEAGUERS.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>JOHN CALDIGATE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>AMERICAN SENATOR.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>TROLLOPE (FRANCES E.), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>LIKE SHIPS UPON THE SEA.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MABELS PROGRESS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ANNE FURNESS.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>TROLLOPE (T. A.).&mdash;DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.</b> Post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>TROWBRIDGE.&mdash;FARNELL'S FOLLY:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">J. T. Trowbridge</span>. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>TYTLER (C. C. FRASER-).&mdash;MISTRESS JUDITH:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">C. C.
+Fraser-Tytler</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illust.
+boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>TYTLER (SARAH), NOVELS BY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>
+each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>THE BRIDE'S PASS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>NOBLESSE OBLIGE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LADY BELL.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BURIED DIAMONDS.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE BLACKHALL GHOSTS.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>WHAT SHE CAME THROUGH.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CITOYENNE JACQUELINE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>SAINT MUNGO'S CITY.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>DISAPPEARED.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE HUGUENOT FAMILY.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>VILLARI.&mdash;A DOUBLE BOND.</b> By <span class="smcap">Linda Villari</span>. Fcap. 8vo, picture cover, <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WALT WHITMAN, POEMS BY.</b> Edited, with Introduction, by <b>William M.
+Rossetti</b>. With Portrait. Cr. 8vo, hand-made paper and buckram, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WALTON AND COTTON'S COMPLETE ANGLER;</b> or, The Contemplative Man's
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+or Grayling in a clear Stream, by <span class="smcap">Charles Cotton</span>. With Memoirs and Notes
+by <span class="smcap">Sir Harris Nicolas</span>, and 61 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth antique,
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+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WARD (HERBERT), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>FIVE YEARS WITH THE CONGO CANNIBALS.</b> With 92 Illustrations
+by the Author, <span class="smcap">Victor Perard</span>, and <span class="smcap">W. B. Davis</span>. Third ed.
+Roy. 8vo, cloth ex., <b>14s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>MY LIFE WITH STANLEY'S REAR GUARD.</b> With a Map by <span class="smcap">F. S.
+Weller</span>, F.R.G.S. Post 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WARNER.&mdash;A ROUNDABOUT JOURNEY.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Dudley Warner</span>. Crown 8vo,
+cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WARRANT TO EXECUTE CHARLES I.</b> A Facsimile, with the 59 Signatures and
+Seals. Printed on paper 22 in. by 14 in. <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>WARRANT TO EXECUTE MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS.</b> A Facsimile,
+including Queen Elizabeth's Signature and the Great Seal.
+<b>2s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WASSERMANN&mdash;THE DAFFODILS:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Lillias Wassermann</span>. Crown 8vo,
+<b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WATSON.&mdash;THE MARQUIS OF CARABAS:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Aaron Watson</span> and <span class="smcap">Lilias
+Wassermann</span>. 3 vols., crown 8vo.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WALFORD (EDWARD, M.A.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>WALFORD'S COUNTY FAMILIES OF THE UNITED KINGDOM (1892).</b>
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+12,000 Heads of Families, their Heirs, Offices, Addresses,
+Clubs, &amp;c. Royal 8vo, cloth gilt, <b>50s.</b></p>
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+<p><b>WALFORD'S WINDSOR PEERAGE, BARONETAGE, AND KNIGHTAGE (1892).</b>
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>12s. 6d.</b></p>
+
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+
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+
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+
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+Clubs, &amp;c. 32mo, cloth, <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>WALFORD'S COMPLETE PEERAGE, BARONETAGE, KNIGHTAGE, AND HOUSE
+OF COMMONS (1892).</b> Royal 32mo, cloth extra, gilt edges, <b>5s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<p><b>TALES OF OUR GREAT FAMILIES.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WEATHER, HOW TO FORETELL THE, WITH POCKET SPECTROSCOPE.</b> By <span class="smcap">F. W.
+Cory</span>.&mdash;With 10 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WESTALL (William).&mdash;TRUST-MONEY.</b> Three Vols., crown 8vo.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WESTROPP.&mdash;HANDBOOK OF POTTERY AND PORCELAIN.</b> By <span class="smcap">Hodder M. Westropp</span>.
+With Illusts. and List of Marks. Cr. 8vo, cloth, <b>4s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WHIST.-HOW TO PLAY SOLO WHIST.</b> By <span class="smcap">Abraham S. Wilks</span> and <span class="smcap">Charles F.
+Pardon</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WHISTLER'S (MR.) TEN O'CLOCK.</b> Cr. 8vo, hand-made paper, <b>1s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WHITE.&mdash;THE NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE.</b> By <span class="smcap">Gilbert White</span>, M.A. Post
+8vo, printed on laid paper and half-bound, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WILLIAMS (W. MATTIEU, F.R.A.S.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>SCIENCE IN SHORT CHAPTERS.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>A SIMPLE TREATISE ON HEAT.</b> With Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cloth
+limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE CHEMISTRY OF COOKERY.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE CHEMISTRY OF IRON AND STEEL MAKING.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>9s.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WILLIAMSON (MRS. F. H.).&mdash;A CHILD WIDOW.</b> Post 8vo, bds., <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WILSON (DR. ANDREW, F.R.S.E.), WORKS BY.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>CHAPTERS ON EVOLUTION.</b> With 259 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo,
+cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LEAVES FROM A NATURALIST'S NOTE-BOOK.</b> Post 8vo, cloth limp,
+<b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>LEISURE-TIME STUDIES.</b> With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>STUDIES IN LIFE AND SENSE.</b> With numerous Illusts. Cr. 8vo,
+cl. ex., <b>6s.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>COMMON ACCIDENTS: HOW TO TREAT THEM.</b> Illusts. Cr. 8vo, <b>1s.</b>;
+cl., <b>1s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>GLIMPSES OF NATURE.</b> With 35 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WINTER (J. S.), STORIES BY.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>CAVALRY LIFE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>REGIMENTAL LEGENDS.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>A SOLDIER'S CHILDREN.</b> With 34 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">E. G. Thomson</span>
+and <span class="smcap">E. Stuart Hardy</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WISSMANN.&mdash;MY SECOND JOURNEY THROUGH EQUATORIAL AFRICA.</b> By <span class="smcap">Hermann von
+Wissmann</span>. With 92 Illusts. Demy 8vo, <b>16s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WOOD.&mdash;SABINA:</b> A Novel. By Lady <span class="smcap">Wood</span>. Post 8vo, boards, <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WOOD (H. F.), DETECTIVE STORIES BY.</b> Cr. 8vo, <b>6s.</b> ea.; post 8vo, bds <b>2s.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>PASSENGER FROM SCOTLAND YARD.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>ENGLISHMAN OF THE RUE CAIN.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WOOLLEY.&mdash;RACHEL ARMSTRONG;</b> or, Love and Theology. By <span class="smcap">Celia Parker
+Woolley</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>; cloth, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WRIGHT (THOMAS), WORKS BY.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>CARICATURE HISTORY OF THE GEORGES.</b> With 400 Caricatures,
+Squibs, &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p><b>HISTORY OF CARICATURE AND OF THE GROTESQUE IN ART,
+LITERATURE, SCULPTURE, AND PAINTING.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">F. W.
+Fairholt</span>, F.S.A.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>WYNMAN.&mdash;MY FLIRTATIONS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Margaret Wynman</span>. With 13 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">J.
+Bernard Partridge</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>YATES (EDMUND), NOVELS BY.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><b>LAND AT LAST.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>THE FORLORN HOPE.</b></p>
+
+<p><b>CASTAWAY.</b></p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><b>ZOLA.&mdash;THE DOWNFALL.</b> By <span class="smcap">Emile Zola</span>. Translated by <span class="smcap">E. A. Vizetelly</span>. Crown
+8vo, cloth, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>LISTS OF BOOKS CLASSIFIED IN SERIES.</h2>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p class="center"><i>For fuller cataloguing, see alphabetical arrangement.</i></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<h3>THE MAYFAIR LIBRARY.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> per Volume.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'><b>A Journey Round My Room.</b> By <span class="smcap">Xavier de Maistre</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Quips and Quiddities.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. D. Adams</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Agony Column of "The Times."</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Melancholy Anatomised:</b> Abridgment of "Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy."</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Speeches of Charles Dickens.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Literary Frivolities, Fancies, Follies, and Frolics.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. T. Dobson</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Poetical Ingenuities.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. T. Dobson</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Cupboard Papers.</b> By <span class="smcap">Fin-Bec</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>W. S. Gilbert's Plays.</b> <span class="smcap">First Series</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>W. S. Gilbert's Plays.</b> <span class="smcap">Second Series</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Songs of Irish Wit and Humour.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Animals and Masters.</b> By Sir <span class="smcap">A. Helps</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Social Pressure.</b> By Sir <span class="smcap">A. Helps</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Curiosities of Criticism.</b> <span class="smcap">H. J. Jennings</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Holmes's Autocrat of Breakfast-Table.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Pencil and Palette.</b> By <span class="smcap">R. Kempt</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Little Essays:</b> from <span class="smcap">Lamb</span>'s Letters.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Forensic Anecdotes.</b> By <span class="smcap">Jacob Larwood</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Theatrical Anecdotes.</b> <span class="smcap">Jacob Larwood</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Jeux d'Esprit.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">Henry S. Leigh</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Witch Stories.</b> By <span class="smcap">E. Lynn Linton</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Ourselves.</b> By <span class="smcap">E. Lynn Linton</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Pastimes &amp; Players.</b> By <span class="smcap">R. Macgregor</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>New Paul and Virginia.</b> <span class="smcap">W. H. Mallock</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>New Republic.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. H. Mallock</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Puck on Pegasus.</b> By <span class="smcap">H. C. Pennell</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Pegasus Re-Saddled.</b> By <span class="smcap">H. C. Pennell</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Muses of Mayfair.</b> Ed. <span class="smcap">H. C. Pennell</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Thoreau:</b> His Life &amp; Aims. By <span class="smcap">H. A. Page</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Puniana.</b> By Hon. <span class="smcap">Hugh Rowley</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>More Puniana.</b> By Hon. <span class="smcap">Hugh Rowley</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Philosophy of Handwriting.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>By Stream and Sea.</b> By <span class="smcap">Wm. Senior</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Leaves from a Naturalist's Note-Book.</b> By Dr. <span class="smcap">Andrew Wilson</span>.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<h3>THE GOLDEN LIBRARY.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b> per Volume.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Bayard Taylor's Diversions of the Echo Club.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Bennett's Ballad History of England.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Bennett's Songs for Sailors.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Godwin's Lives of the Necromancers.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Pope's Poetical Works.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Holmes's Autocrat of Breakfast Table.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Holmes's Professor at Breakfast Table.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Jesse's Scenes of Country Life.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Leigh Hunt's Tale for a Chimney Corner.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Mallory's Mort d'Arthur:</b> Selections.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Pascal's Provincial Letters.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Rochefoucauld's Maxims &amp; Reflections.</b></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<h3>THE WANDERER'S LIBRARY.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Wanderings In Patagonia.</b> By <span class="smcap">Julius Beerbohm</span>. Illustrated.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Camp Notes.</b> By <span class="smcap">Frederick Boyle</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Savage Life.</b> By <span class="smcap">Frederick Boyle</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Merrie England in the Olden Time.</b> By <span class="smcap">G. Daniel</span>. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Cruikshank</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Circus Life.</b> By <span class="smcap">Thomas Frost</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Lives of the Conjurers.</b> <span class="smcap">Thomas Frost</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Old Showmen and the Old London Fairs.</b> By <span class="smcap">Thomas Frost</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Low-Life Deeps.</b> By <span class="smcap">James Greenwood</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Wilds of London.</b> <span class="smcap">James Greenwood</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Tunis.</b> Chev. <span class="smcap">Hesse-Wartegg</span>. 22 Illusts.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Life and Adventures of a Cheap Jack.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>World Behind the Scenes.</b> <span class="smcap">P. Fitzgerald</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Tavern Anecdotes and Sayings.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Genial Showman.</b> By <span class="smcap">E. P. Hingston</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Story of London Parks.</b> <span class="smcap">Jacob Larwood</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>London Characters.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henry Mayhew</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Seven Generations of Executioners.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Summer Cruising in the South Seas.</b> By <span class="smcap">C. Warren Stoddard</span>. Illustrated.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<h3>POPULAR SHILLING BOOKS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Harry Fludyer at Cambridge.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Jeff Briggs's Love Story.</b> <span class="smcap">Bret Harte</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Twins of Table Mountain.</b> <span class="smcap">Bret Harte</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Snow-bound at Eagle's.</b> By <span class="smcap">Bret Harte</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>A Day's Tour.</b> By <span class="smcap">Percy Fitzgerald</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Esther's Glove.</b> By <span class="smcap">R. E. Francillon</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Sentenced!</b> By <span class="smcap">Somerville Gibney</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Professor's Wife.</b> By <span class="smcap">L. Graham</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Mrs. Gainsborough's Diamonds.</b> By <span class="smcap">Julian Hawthorne</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Niagara Spray.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. Hollingshead</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>A Romance of the Queen's Hounds.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles James</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Garden that Paid the Rent.</b> By <span class="smcap">Tom Jerrold</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Cut by the Mess.</b> By <span class="smcap">Arthur Keyser</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Our Sensation Novel.</b> <span class="smcap">J. H. McCarthy</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Doom!</b> By <span class="smcap">Justin H. McCarthy</span>, M.P.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Dolly.</b> By <span class="smcap">Justin H. McCarthy</span>, M.P.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Lily Lass.</b> <span class="smcap">Justin H. McCarthy</span>, M.P.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Was She Good or Bad?</b> By <span class="smcap">W. Minto</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Notes from the "News."</b> By <span class="smcap">Jas. Payn</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Beyond the Gates.</b> By <span class="smcap">E. S. Phelps</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Old Maid's Paradise.</b> By <span class="smcap">E. S. Phelps</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Burglars In Paradise.</b> By <span class="smcap">E. S. Phelps</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Jack the Fisherman.</b> By <span class="smcap">E. S. Phelps</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Trooping with Crows.</b> By <span class="smcap">C. L. Pirkis</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Bible Characters.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Reade</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Rogues.</b> By <span class="smcap">R. H. Sherard</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Dagonet Reciter.</b> By <span class="smcap">G. R. Sims</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>How the Poor Live.</b> By <span class="smcap">G. R. Sims</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Case of George Candlemas.</b> <span class="smcap">G. R. Sims</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Sandycroft Mystery.</b> <span class="smcap">T. W. Speight</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Hoodwinked.</b> By <span class="smcap">T. W. Speight</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Father Damien.</b> By <span class="smcap">R. L. Stevenson</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>A Double Bond.</b> By <span class="smcap">Linda Villari</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>My Life with Stanley's Rear Guard.</b> By <span class="smcap">Herbert Ward</span>.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<h3>HANDY NOVELS.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">Fcap. 8vo, cloth boards, <b>1s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Old Maid's Sweetheart.</b> <span class="smcap">A. St. Aubyn</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Modest Little Sara.</b> <span class="smcap">Alan St. Aubyn</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Taken from the Enemy.</b> <span class="smcap">H. Newbolt</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>A Lost Soul.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. L. Alden</span>.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<h3>MY LIBRARY.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">Choice Works, printed on laid paper, bound half-Roxburghe, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Four Frenchwomen.</b> By <span class="smcap">Austin Dobson</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Citation and Examination of William Shakspeare.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. S. Landor</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Journal of Maurice de Guerin.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Christie Johnstone.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Reade</span>. With a Photogravure Frontispiece.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Peg Woffington.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Reade</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Dramatic Essays of Charles Lamb.</b></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<h3>THE POCKET LIBRARY.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">Post 8vo, printed on laid paper and hf.-bd., <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Essays of Elia.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Lamb</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Robinson Crusoe.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">John Major</span>. With 37 Illusts. by <span class="smcap">George Cruikshank</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Whims and Oddities.</b> By <span class="smcap">Thomas Hood</span>. With 85 Illustrations.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Barber's Chair,</b> and <b>The Hedgehog Letters</b>. By <span class="smcap">Douglas Jerrold</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Gastronomy as a Fine Art.</b> By <span class="smcap">Brillat-Savarin</span>. Trans. <span class="smcap">R. E. Anderson</span>, M.A.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Epicurean,</b> &amp;c. By <span class="smcap">Thomas Moore</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Leigh Hunt's Essays.</b> Ed. <span class="smcap">E. Ollier</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>White's Natural History of Selborne.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Gulliver's Travels,</b> and <b>The Tale of a Tub.</b> By <span class="smcap">Dean Swift</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>The Rivals, School for Scandal,</b> and other Plays by <span class="smcap">Richard Brinsley Sheridan</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Anecdotes of the Clergy.</b> <span class="smcap">J. Larwood</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Thomson's Seasons.</b> Illustrated.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<h3>THE PICCADILLY NOVELS.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Library Editions of Novels by the Best Authors</span>, many Illustrated, crown
+8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p>
+
+<h3>By F. M. ALLEN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Green Bird.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By GRANT ALLEN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Philistia.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Babylon.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Strange Stories.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Beckoning Hand.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In all Shades.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Dumaresq's Daughter.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Duchess of Powysland.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Tents of Shem.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>For Maimie's Sake.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Devil's Die.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>This Mortal Coil.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Great Taboo.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Blood Royal.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By EDWIN L. ARNOLD.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Phra the Ph&oelig;nician.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By ALAN ST. AUBYN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Fellow of Trinity.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Rev. S. BARING GOULD.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Red Spider.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Eve.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By W. BESANT &amp; J. RICE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>My Little Girl.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Case of Mr. Lucraft.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>This Son of Vulcan.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Golden Butterfly.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>By Celia's Arbour.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Monks of Thelema.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Seamy Side.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ten Years' Tenant.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ready-Money Mortiboy.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>With Harp and Crown.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Chaplain of the Fleet.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By WALTER BESANT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>All Sorts and Conditions of Men.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Captains' Room.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Herr Paulus.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>All in a Garden Fair</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The World Went Very Well Then.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>For Faith and Freedom.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Dorothy Forster.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Uncle Jack.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Children of Gibeon.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Bell of St. Paul's.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>To Call Her Mine.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Holy Rose.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Armorel of Lyonesse.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>St. Katherine's by the Tower.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By ROBERT BUCHANAN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Shadow of the Sword.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Child of Nature.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Matt.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Heir of Linne.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Martyrdom of Madeline.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>God and the Man.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Love Me for Ever.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Annan Water.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The New Abelard.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Foxglove Manor.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Master of the Mine.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By HALL CAINE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Shadow of a Crime.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Son of Hagar.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Deemster.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>MORT. &amp; FRANCES COLLINS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Transmigration.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>From Midnight to Midnight.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Blacksmith and Scholar.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Village Comedy.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>You Play Me False.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By WILKIE COLLINS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Armadale.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>After Dark.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>No Name.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Antonina.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Basil.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Hide and Seek.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Dead Secret.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Queen of Hearts.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>My Miscellanies.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Woman in White.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Moonstone.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Man and Wife.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Poor Miss Finch.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Miss or Mrs?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>New Magdalen.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Frozen Deep.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Two Destinies.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Law and the Lady.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Haunted Hotel.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Fallen Leaves.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Jezebel's Daughter.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Black Robe.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Heart and Science.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"I Say No."</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Little Novels.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Evil Genius.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Legacy of Cain.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Rogue's Life.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Blind Love.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By DUTTON COOK.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Paul Foster's Daughter.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By MATT CRIM.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Adventures of a Fair Rebel.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By WILLIAM CYPLES.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Hearts of Gold.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By ALPHONSE DAUDET.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Evangelist; or, Port Salvation.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By ERASMUS DAWSON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Fountain of Youth.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By JAMES DE MILLE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Castle in Spain.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By J. LEITH DERWENT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Our Lady of Tears.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Circe's Lovers.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By DICK DONOVAN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Tracked to Doom.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. ANNIE EDWARDES.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Archie Lovell.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By G. MANVILLE FENN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The New Mistress.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By PERCY FITZGERALD.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Fatal Zero.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By R. E. FRANCILLON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Queen Cophetua.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>One by One.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Real Queen.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>King or Knave.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>Pref. by Sir BARTLE FRERE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Pandurang Hari.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By EDWARD GARRETT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Capel Girls.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By CHARLES GIBBON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Robin Gray.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Loving a Dream.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Golden Shaft.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Of High Degree.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Flower of the Forest.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By E. GLANVILLE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Lost Heiress.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Fossicker.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By CECIL GRIFFITH.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Corinthia Marazion.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By THOMAS HARDY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Under the Greenwood Tree.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By BRET HARTE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Waif of the Plains.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Ward of the Golden Gate.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Sappho of Green Springs.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Colonel Starbottle's Client.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By JULIAN HAWTHORNE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Garth.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ellice Quentin.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sebastian Strome.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Dust.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Fortune's Fool.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Beatrix Randolph.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>David Poindexter's Disappearance.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Spectre of the Camera.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Sir A. HELPS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Ivan de Biron.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By ISAAC HENDERSON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Agatha Page.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. ALFRED HUNT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Leaden Casket.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Self-Condemned.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>That other Person.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By JEAN INGELOW.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Fated to be Free.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By R. ASHE KING.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Drawn Game.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"The Wearing of the Green."</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By E. LYNN LINTON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Patricia Kemball.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Under which Lord?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"My Love!"</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ione.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Paston Carew.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sowing the Wind.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Atonement of Leam Dundas.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The World Well Lost.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By HENRY W. LUCY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Gideon Fleyce.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Justin McCarthy.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Fair Saxon.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Linley Rochford.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Miss Misanthrope.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Donna Quixote.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Maid of Athens.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Camiola.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Waterdale Neighbours.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>My Enemy's Daughter.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Dear Lady Disdain.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Comet of a Season.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By AGNES MACDONELL.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Quaker Cousins.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Life's Atonement.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Joseph's Coat.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Coals of Fire.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Val Strange.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Hearts.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Model Father.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Old Blazer's Hero.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>By the Gate of the Sea.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Bit of Human Nature.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>First Person Singular.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Cynic Fortune.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Way of the World.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By MURRAY &amp; HERMAN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Bishops' Bible.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Paul Jones's Alias.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By HUME NISBET.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>"Bail Up!"</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By GEORGES OHNET.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Weird Gift.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. OLIPHANT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Whiteladies.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By OUIDA.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Held In Bondage.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Strathmore.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Chandos.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Under Two Flags.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Idalia.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Cecil Castlemaine's Gage.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Tricotrin.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Puck.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Folle Farine.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Dog of Flanders.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Pascarel.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Signa.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Princess Napraxine.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Two Little Wooden Shoes.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In a Winter City.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ariadne.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Friendship.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Moths.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ruffino.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Pipistrello.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Village Commune.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Bimbi.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Wanda.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Frescoes.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Othmar.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In Maremma.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Syrlin.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Guilderoy.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Santa Barbara.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By MARGARET A. PAUL.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Gentle and Simple.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By JAMES PAYN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Lost Sir Massingberd.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Less Black than We're Painted.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Confidential Agent.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Grape from a Thorn.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In Peril and Privation.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Mystery of Mirbridge.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Canon's Ward.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Walter's Word.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>By Proxy.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>High Spirits.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Under One Roof.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>From Exile.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Glow-worm Tales.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Talk of the Town.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Holiday Tasks.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Burnt Million.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Word and the Will.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sunny Stories.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By E. C. PRICE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Valentina.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Foreigners.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mrs. Lancaster's Rival.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By RICHARD PRYCE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Miss Maxwell's Affections.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By CHARLES READE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>It Is Never Too Late to Mend.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Double Marriage.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Love Me Little, Love Me Long.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Cloister and the Hearth.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Course of True Love.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Autobiography of a Thief.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Put Yourself in his Place.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Terrible Temptation.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Singleheart and Doubleface.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Good Stories of Men and other Animals.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Hard Cash.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Peg Woffington.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Christie Johnstone.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Griffith Gaunt.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Foul Play.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Perilous Secret.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Wandering Heir.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Woman-Hater.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Simpleton.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Readiana.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Jilt.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. J. H. RIDDELL.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Prince of Wales's Garden Party.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Weird Stories.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By F. W. ROBINSON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Women are Strange.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Hands of Justice.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By W. CLARK RUSSELL.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>An Ocean Tragedy.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>My Shipmate Louise.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Alone on a Wide Wide Sea.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By JOHN SAUNDERS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Guy Waterman.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Two Dreamers.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Bound to the Wheel.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Lion in the Path.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By KATHARINE SAUNDERS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Margaret and Elizabeth.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Gideon's Rock.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The High Mills.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Heart Salvage.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sebastian.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By LUKE SHARP.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>In a Steamer Chair.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By HAWLEY SMART.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Without Love or Licence.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By R. A. STERNDALE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Afghan Knife.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By BERTHA THOMAS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Proud Maisie.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Violin-player.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By FRANCES E. TROLLOPE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Like Ships upon the Sea.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Anne Furness.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mabel's Progress.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By IVAN TURGENIEFF, &amp;c.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Stories from Foreign Novelists.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By ANTHONY TROLLOPE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Frau Frohmann.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Marion Fay.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Kept in the Dark.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Land-Leaguers.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Way We Live Now.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mr. Scarborough's Family.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By C. C. FRASER-TYTLER.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Mistress Judith.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By SARAH TYTLER.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Bride's Pass.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Noblesse Oblige.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Lady Bell.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Buried Diamonds.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Blackhall Ghosts.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By MARK TWAIN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The American Claimant.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By. J. S. WINTER.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Soldier's Children.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<h2>CHEAP EDITIONS OF POPULAR NOVELS.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p>
+
+<h3>By ARTEMUS WARD.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Artemus Ward Complete.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By EDMOND ABOUT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Fellah.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By HAMILTON AIDE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Carr of Carrlyon.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Confidences.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By MARY ALBERT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Brooke Finchley's Daughter.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. ALEXANDER.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Maid, Wife, or Widow?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Valerie's Fate.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By GRANT ALLEN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Strange Stories.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Philistia.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Babylon.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Devil's Die.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>This Mortal Coil.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In all Shades.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Beckoning Hand.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>For Maimie's Sake.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Tents of Shem.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Great Taboo.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By ALAN ST. AUBYN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Fellow of Trinity.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Rev. S. BARING GOULD.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Red Spider.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Eve.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By FRANK BARRETT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Fettered for Life.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Between Life and Death.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Sin of Olga Zassoulich.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Folly Morrison.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Honest Davie.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Lieut. Barnabas.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Prodigal's Progress.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Found Guilty.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Recoiling Vengeance.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>For Love and Honour.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>John Ford; and His Helpmate.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By W. BESANT &amp; J. RICE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>My Little Girl.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Case of Mr. Lucraft.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Golden Butterfly.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>By Celia's Arbour.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Monks of Thelema.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Seamy Side.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ten Years' Tenant.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ready-Money Mortiboy.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>With Harp and Crown.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Chaplain of the Fleet.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By WALTER BESANT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Dorothy Forster.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Children of Gibeon.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Uncle Jack.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Herr Paulus.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>All Sorts and Conditions of Men.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Captains' Room.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>All In a Garden Fair.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The World Went Very Well Then.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>For Faith and Freedom.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>To Call Her Mine.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Bell of St. Paul's.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Holy Rose.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By SHELSLEY BEAUCHAMP.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Grantley Grange.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By FREDERICK BOYLE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Camp Notes.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Savage Life.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Chronicles of No-man's Land.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By BRET HARTE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Flip.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Maruja.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Californian Stories.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Gabriel Conroy.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>An Heiress of Red Dog.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Luck of Roaring Camp.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Phyllis of the Sierras.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By HAROLD BRYDGES.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Uncle Sam at Home.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By ROBERT BUCHANAN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Shadow of the Sword.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Child of Nature.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>God and the Man.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Love Me for Ever.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Foxglove Manor.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Martyrdom of Madeline.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Annan Water.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The New Abelard.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Matt.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Heir of Linne.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Master of the Mine.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By HALL CAINE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Shadow of a Crime.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Son of Hagar.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Deemster.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Commander CAMERON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Cruise of the "Black Prince."</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. LOVETT CAMERON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Deceivers Ever.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Juliet's Guardian.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By AUSTEN CLARE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>For the Love of a Lass.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. ARCHER CLIVE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Paul Ferroll.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By MACLAREN COBBAN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Cure of Souls.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By C. ALLSTON COLLINS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Bar Sinister.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>MORT. &amp; FRANCES COLLINS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Sweet Anne Page.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Transmigration.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>From Midnight to Midnight.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Fight with Fortune.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sweet and Twenty.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Frances.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Village Comedy.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>You Play me False.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Blacksmith and Scholar.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By WILKIE COLLINS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Armadale.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>After Dark.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>No Name.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Antonina.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Basil.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Hide and Seek.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Dead Secret.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Queen of Hearts.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Miss or Mrs?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>New Magdalen.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Frozen Deep.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Law and the Lady.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Two Destinies.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Haunted Hotel.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Rogue's Life.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>My Miscellanies.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Woman in White.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Moonstone.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Man and Wife.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Poor Miss Finch.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Fallen Leaves.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Jezebel's Daughter.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Black Robe.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Heart and Science.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"I Say No."</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Evil Genius.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Little Novels.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Legacy of Cain.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Blind Love.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By M. J. COLQUHOUN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Every Inch a Soldier.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By DUTTON COOK.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Leo.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Paul Foster's Daughter.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By C. EGBERT CRADDOCK.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By R. M. CROKER.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Pretty Miss Neville.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Bird of Passage.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Diana Barrington.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Proper Pride.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By WILLIAM CYPLES.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Hearts of Gold.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By ALPHONSE DAUDET.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Evangelist; or, Port Salvation.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By JAMES DE MILLE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Castle in Spain.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By J. LEITH DERWENT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Our Lady of Tears.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Circe's Lovers.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By CHARLES DICKENS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Sketches by Boz.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Pickwick Papers.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Oliver Twist.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Nicholas Nickleby.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By DICK DONOVAN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Man-Hunter.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Caught at Last!</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Tracked and Taken.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Who Poisoned Hetty Duncan?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Man from Manchester.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Detective's Triumphs.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In the Grip of the Law.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. ANNIE EDWARDES.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Point of Honour.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Archie Lovell.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By M. BETHAM-EDWARDS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Felicia.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Kitty.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By EDWARD EGGLESTON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Roxy.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By PERCY FITZGERALD.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Bella Donna.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Never Forgotten.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Polly.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Fatal Zero.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Second Mrs. Tillotson.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Seventy-five Brooke Street.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Lady of Brantome.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By PERCY FITZGERALD and others.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Strange Secrets.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>ALBANY DE FONBLANQUE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Filthy Lucre.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By R. E. FRANCILLON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Olympia.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>One by One.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Real Queen.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Queen Cophetua.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>King or Knave?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Romances of Law.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By HAROLD FREDERICK.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Seth's Brother's Wife.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Lawton Girl.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>Pref. by Sir BARTLE FRERE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Pandurang Hari.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By HAIN FRISWELL.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>One of Two.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By EDWARD GARRETT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Capel Girls.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By CHARLES GIBBON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Robin Gray.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Fancy Free.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>For Lack of Gold.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>What will the World Say?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In Love and War.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>For the King.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In Pastures Green.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Queen of Meadow.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Heart's Problem.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Dead Heart.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In Honour Bound.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Flower of Forest.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Braes of Yarrow.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Golden Shaft.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Of High Degree.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mead and Stream.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Loving a Dream.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Hard Knot.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Heart's Delight.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Blood-Money.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By WILLIAM GILBERT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Dr. Austin's Guests.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>James Duke.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Wizard of the Mountain.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By ERNEST GLANVILLE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Lost Heiress.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By HENRY GREVILLE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Noble Woman.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Nikanor.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By JOHN HABBERTON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Brueton's Bayou.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Country Luck.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By ANDREW HALLIDAY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Every-Day Papers.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Lady DUFFUS HARDY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Paul Wynter's Sacrifice.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By THOMAS HARDY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Under the Greenwood Tree.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By J. BERWICK HARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Tenth Earl.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By JULIAN HAWTHORNE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Garth.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ellice Quentin.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Fortune's Fool.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Miss Cadogna.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sebastian Strome.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Dust.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Beatrix Randolph.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Love&mdash;or a Name.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>David Poindexter's Disappearance.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Spectre of the Camera.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Sir ARTHUR HELPS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Ivan de Biron.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By HENRY HERMAN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Leading Lady.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. CASHEL HOEY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Lover's Creed.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. GEORGE HOOPER.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The House of Raby.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By TIGHE HOPKINS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>'Twixt Love and Duty.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. HUNGERFORD.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Maiden all Forlorn.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In Durance Vile.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Marvel.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Mental Struggle.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Modern Circe.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. ALFRED HUNT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Thornicroft's Model.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>That Other Person.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Self Condemned.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Leaden Casket.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By JEAN INGELOW.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Fated to be Free.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By HARRIETT JAY</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Dark Colleen.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Queen of Connaught.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By MARK KERSHAW.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Colonial Facts and Fictions.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By R. ASHE KING.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Drawn Game.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Passion's Slave.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"The Wearing of the Green."</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Bell Barry</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By JOHN LEYS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Lindsays.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By E. LYNN LINTON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Patricia Kemball.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>World Well Lost.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Under which Lord?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Paston Carew.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"My Love!"</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ione.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Atonement of Leam Dundas.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>With a Silken Thread.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Rebel of the Family.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sowing the Wind.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By HENRY W. LUCY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Gideon Fleyce.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By JUSTIN McCARTHY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Fair Saxon.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Linley Rochford.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Miss Misanthrope.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Donna Quixote.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Maid of Athens.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Camiola.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Dear Lady Disdain.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Waterdale Neighbours.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>My Enemy's Daughter.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Comet of a Season.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By AGNES MACDONELL.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Quaker Cousins.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>KATHARINE S. MACQUOID.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Evil Eye.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Lost Rose.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By W. H. MALLOCK.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The New Republic.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By FLORENCE MARRYAT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Open! Sesame!</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Fighting the Air.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Harvest of Wild Oats.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Written in Fire.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By J. MASTERMAN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Half-a-dozen Daughters.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By BRANDER MATTHEWS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Secret of the Sea.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By LEONARD MERRICK.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Man who was Good.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By JEAN MIDDLEMASS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Touch and Go.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mr. Dorillion.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. MOLESWORTH.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Hathercourt Rectory.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By J. E. MUDDOCK.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Stories Weird and Wonderful.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Dead Man's Secret.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Model Father.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Joseph's Coat.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Coals of Fire.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Val Strange.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Old Blazer's Hero.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Hearts.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Way of the World.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Cynic Fortune.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Life's Atonement.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>By the Gate of the Sea.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Bit of Human Nature.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>First Person Singular.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By MURRAY and HERMAN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>One Traveller Returns.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Paul Jones's Alias.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Bishops' Bible.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By HENRY MURRAY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Game of Bluff.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By ALICE O'HANLON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Unforeseen.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Chance? or Fate?</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By GEORGES OHNET.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Doctor Rameau.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Weird Gift.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Last Love.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. OLIPHANT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Whiteladies.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Primrose Path</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Greatest Heiress in England.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. ROBERT O REILLY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Ph&oelig;be's Fortunes.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By OUIDA.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Held In Bondage.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Strathmore.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Chandos.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Under Two Flags.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Idalia.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Cecil Castlemaine's Gage.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Tricotrin.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Puck.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Folle Farine.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Dog of Flanders.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Pascarel.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Signa.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Princess Napraxine.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In a Winter City.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ariadne.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Two Little Wooden Shoes.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Friendship.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Moths.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Pipistrello.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Village Commune.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Bimbi.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Wanda.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Frescoes.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In Maremma.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Othmar.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Guilderoy.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ruffino.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Syrlin.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ouida's Wisdom, Wit, and Pathos.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>MARGARET AGNES PAUL.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Gentle and Simple.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By JAMES PAYN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Bentinck's Tutor.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Murphy's Master.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A County Family.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>At Her Mercy.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Cecil's Tryst.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Clyffards of Clyffe.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Foster Brothers.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Found Dead.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Best of Husbands.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Walter's Word.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Halves.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Fallen Fortunes.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Humorous Stories.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&pound;200 Reward.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Marine Residence.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mirk Abbey.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>By Proxy.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Under One Roof.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>High Spirits.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Carlyon's Year.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>From Exile.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>For Cash Only.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Kit.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Canon's Ward</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Talk of the Town.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Holiday Tasks.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Lost Sir Massingberd.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Perfect Treasure.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Woman's Vengeance.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Family Scapegrace.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>What He Cost Her.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Gwendoline's Harvest.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Like Father, Like Son.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Married Beneath Him.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Not Wooed, but Won.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Less Black than We're Painted.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Confidential Agent.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Some Private Views.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Grape from a Thorn.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Glow-worm Tales.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Mystery of Mirbridge.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Burnt Million.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Word and the Will.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Prince of the Blood.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By C. L. PIRKIS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Lady Lovelace.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By EDGAR A. POE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Mystery of Marie Roget.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By E. C. PRICE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Valentina.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Foreigners</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mrs. Lancaster's Rival.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Gerald.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By CHARLES READE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>It is Never Too Late to Mend.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Christie Johnstone.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Put Yourself in His Place.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Double Marriage.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Love Me Little, Love Me Long.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Cloister and the Hearth.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Course of True Love.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Autobiography of a Thief.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Terrible Temptation.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Wandering Heir.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Singleheart and Doubleface.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Good Stories of Men and other Animals.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Hard Cash.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Peg Woffington.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Griffith Gaunt.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Foul Play.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Simpleton.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Readiana.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Woman-Hater.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Jilt.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Perilous Secret.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. J. H. RIDDELL.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Weird Stories.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Fairy Water.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Her Mother's Darling.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Prince of Wales's Garden Party.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Uninhabited House.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Mystery in Palace Gardens.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Nun's Curse.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Idle Tales.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By F. W. ROBINSON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Women are Strange.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Hands of Justice.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By JAMES RUNCIMAN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Skippers and Shellbacks.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Grace Balmaign's Sweetheart.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Schools and Scholars.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By W. CLARK RUSSELL.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Round the Galley Fire.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>On the Fo'k'sle Head.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In the Middle Watch.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Voyage to the Cape.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Book for the Hammock.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Mystery of the "Ocean Star."</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Romance of Jenny Harlowe.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>An Ocean Tragedy.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>My Shipmate Louise.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Gaslight and Daylight.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By JOHN SAUNDERS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Guy Waterman.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Two Dreamers.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Lion in the Path.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By KATHARINE SAUNDERS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Joan Merryweather.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The High Mills.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Heart Salvage.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sebastian.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Margaret and Elizabeth.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By GEORGE R. SIMS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Rogues and Vagabonds.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Ring o' Bells.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mary Jane's Memoirs.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mary Jane Married.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Tales of To-day.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Dramas of Life.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Tinkletop's Crime.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Zeph: A Circus Story.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By ARTHUR SKETCHLEY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Match in the Dark.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By HAWLEY SMART.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Without Love or Licence.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By T. W. SPEIGHT.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Mysteries of Heron Dyke.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Golden Hoop.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Hoodwinked, &amp;c.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>By Devious Ways.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Back to Life.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By R. A. STERNDALE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Afghan Knife.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By R. LOUIS STEVENSON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>New Arabian Nights.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Prince Otto.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>BY BERTHA THOMAS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Cressida.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Proud Maisie.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Violin-player.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By WALTER THORNBURY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Tales for the Marines.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Old Stories Re-told.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Diamond Cut Diamond.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By F. ELEANOR TROLLOPE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Like Ships upon the Sea.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Anne Furness.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mabel's Progress.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By ANTHONY TROLLOPE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Frau Frohmann.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Marion Fay.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Kept In the Dark.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>John Caldigate.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Way We Live Now.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The American Senator.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mr. Scarborough's Family.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Land-Leaguers.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Golden Lion of Granpere.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By J. T. TROWBRIDOE.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Farnell's Folly.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By IVAN TURGENIEFF, &amp;c.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Stories from Foreign Novelists.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By MARK TWAIN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Pleasure Trip on the Continent.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Gilded Age.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mark Twain's Sketches.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Tom Sawyer.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Tramp Abroad.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Stolen White Elephant.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Huckleberry Finn.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Life on the Mississippi.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Prince and the Pauper.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By C. C. FRASER-TYTLER.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Mistress Judith.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By SARAH TYTLER.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Bride's Pass.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Buried Diamonds.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Saint Mungo's City.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Lady Bell.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Noblesse Oblige.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Disappeared.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Huguenot Family.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Blackhall Ghosts.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>What She Came Through.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Beauty and the Beast.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Citoyenne Jaqueline.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Mrs. F. H. WILLIAMSON.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Child Widow.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By J. S. WINTER.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Cavalry Life.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Regimental Legends.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By H. F. WOOD.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Passenger from Scotland Yard.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Englishman of the Rue Cain.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By Lady WOOD.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Sabina.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>CELIA PARKER WOOLLEY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Rachel Armstrong; or, Love &amp; Theology.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3>By EDMUND YATES.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>The Forlorn Hope.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Castaway.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Land at Last.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Ivory Gate, a new edition, by Walter Besant
+
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
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+Project Gutenberg's The Ivory Gate, a new edition, by Walter Besant
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Ivory Gate, a new edition
+
+Author: Walter Besant
+
+Release Date: December 23, 2010 [EBook #34738]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE IVORY GATE, A NEW EDITION ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from
+scanned images of public domain material from the Internet
+Archive.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Book Cover]
+
+
+
+
+THE IVORY GATE
+
+
+  _Sunt geminae Somni portae: quarum altera fertur
+  Cornea, qua veris facilis datur exitus umbris:
+  Altera candenti perfecta nitens elephanto:
+  Sed falsa ad caelum mittunt insomnia manes._
+
+  VIRGIL, _AEn._ VI.
+
+
+
+
+NOTE.
+
+
+After this novel was commenced in _Chambers's Journal_ it was discovered
+that the title had already been used by the late Mr. Mortimer Collins,
+for a novel published in the year 1865. The Author communicated with Mr.
+Collins's representatives, and has to thank them for making no
+opposition to the use of this title.
+
+
+
+
+THE IVORY GATE
+
+
+BY
+WALTER BESANT
+
+AUTHOR OF 'ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN' ETC.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+_A NEW EDITION_
+
+
+London
+CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY
+1893
+
+
+
+
+_TO_
+_S. SQUIRE SPRIGGE, ESQ., M.D._
+
+
+     _MY DEAR SPRIGGE,_
+
+     _Since it was you who first instructed me in the existence
+     of the brain disease which forms the motif of this story,
+     and furnished me with such illustrations of its working as
+     enabled me to write the story, I am in honour bound to make
+     the most public acknowledgment possible of this fact._
+
+     _I therefore beg to inscribe your name on the title page of
+     this volume in grateful recognition of an obligation which
+     is not by any means discharged by such recognition. I am
+     also moved to do so in remembrance of another kind of work
+     in which I have been so fortunate as to have your invaluable
+     collaboration._
+
+  _Very sincerely yours,_
+  _WALTER BESANT._
+
+  UNITED UNIVERSITY CLUB, S.W.
+  _September 12, 1892._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER                                                           PAGE
+         PROLOGUE: WHO IS EDMUND GRAY?                                 1
+       I.  UP THE RIVER                                               29
+      II.  IN THE OFFICE                                              37
+     III.  THE SELECT CIRCLE                                          47
+      IV.  A REBELLIOUS CHILD                                         56
+       V.  SOMETHING HAPPENS                                          65
+      VI.  SOMETHING MORE HAPPENS                                     74
+     VII.  SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENS                                     83
+    VIII.  IN HONOUR OF THE EVENT                                     93
+      IX.  AT THE GATES OF PARADISE                                  102
+       X.  A MYSTERIOUS DISCOVERY                                    110
+      XI.  A MYSTERIOUS DISCOVERY                                    118
+     XII.  THE FIRST FIND                                            134
+    XIII.  THINGS MORE REMARKABLE                                    142
+     XIV.  CHECKLEY'S CASE                                           152
+      XV.  WHO IS EDMUND GRAY?                                       162
+     XVI.  THE VOICE OF DUTY                                         172
+    XVII.  WAS HE IN RAGS?                                           180
+   XVIII.  THE PRODIGAL AT HOME                                      188
+     XIX.  THE WHISPER OF CALUMNY                                    195
+      XX.  HE COMES FROM EDMUND GRAY                                 205
+     XXI.  I AM EDMUND GRAY                                          213
+    XXII.  MASTER AND DISCIPLE                                       223
+   XXIII.  THE HALL OF THE NEW FAITH                                 231
+    XXIV.  CAN HE REMEMBER?                                          240
+     XXV.  WILL HE REMEMBER?                                         248
+    XXVI.  THE LESSON OF THE STREET                                  255
+   XXVII.  'I KNOW THE MAN'                                          272
+  XXVIII.  ATHELSTAN'S DISCOVERY                                     280
+    XXIX.  CHECKLEY SEES A GHOST                                     288
+     XXX.  THE DAY AFTER THE GHOST                                   296
+    XXXI.  THE THREE ACCOMPLICES                                     304
+   XXXII.  ELSIE AND HER MOTHER                                      315
+  XXXIII.  PLENARY CONFESSION                                        320
+   XXXIV.  LE CONSEIL DE FAMILLE                                     338
+    XXXV.  THE LAST                                                  355
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+WHO IS EDMUND GRAY?
+
+
+Mr. Edward Dering, in a rare interval of work, occupied himself with
+looking into his bank book. Those humble persons whom the City,
+estimating the moral and spiritual worth of a man by his income, calls
+'small,' frequently and anxiously examine their bank books, add up the
+columns, and check the entries. Mr. Dering, who was not a small man, but
+a big man, or rather, from a City point of view, a biggish man, very
+seldom looked at his bank book; first because, like other solicitors in
+large practice, he had clerks and accountants to do that kind of work
+for him: next because, like many solicitors, while he managed the
+affairs of other people with unceasing watchfulness, he was apt to
+neglect his own affairs. Happily, when one has an income of some
+thousands, private affairs from time to time force themselves upon their
+owner in the most agreeable manner possible. They obtrude themselves
+upon him. They insist upon being noticed. They compel him to look after
+them respectfully: to remove them from the dulness of the bank, and to
+make them comfortable in investments.
+
+Mr. Dering opened the book, therefore, having for the moment nothing
+else to do, looked at the balance, was satisfied with its appearance,
+and began working backwards, that is to say, upwards, to read the
+entries. Presently, he came to one at which he stopped, holding his
+forefinger on the name.
+
+It was on the right-hand side, the side which to small men is so
+terrifying, because it always does its best to annihilate the cash
+balance, and seems bent upon transforming addition into multiplication,
+so amazing are the results. The name which Mr. Dering read was Edmund
+Gray. The amount placed in the same line opposite to that name was
+720_l_. Therefore, he had drawn a cheque to the order of Edmund Gray for
+the sum of 720_l_.
+
+Now, a man may be in very great practice indeed; but if, like Mr.
+Dering, he knows the details of every case that is brought into the
+House, he would certainly remember drawing a cheque for 720_l_., and the
+reason why it was drawn, and the person for whom it was drawn,
+especially if the cheque was only three weeks old. Seven hundred and
+twenty pounds! It is a sum in return for which many and very substantial
+services must be rendered.
+
+'Edmund Gray!' he murmured. 'Strange! I cannot remember the name of
+Edmund Gray. Who is Edmund Gray? Why did I give him 720_l_.?'
+
+The strange fact that he should forget so large a sum amused him at
+first. Beside him lay a book which was his private Diary. He opened it
+and looked back for three months. He could find no mention anywhere of
+Edmund Gray. To repeat: he knew all the details of every case that came
+into the House: he signed all the cheques: his memory was as tenacious
+and as searching as the east wind in April; yet this matter of Edmund
+Gray and his cheque for 720_l_. he could not recall to his mind by any
+effort.
+
+There is a certain stage in brain fatigue when one cannot remember
+names: it is the sure and certain symptom of over-work: the wise man
+recognises the symptom as a merciful warning and obeys it. Mr. Dering
+knew this symptom. 'I must take a holiday,' he said. 'At sixty-seven,
+one cannot afford to neglect the least loss of memory. Edmund Gray! To
+forget Edmund Gray and 720_l_.! I must run down to the sea-side for a
+fortnight's rest.'
+
+He shut up the bank book and tried to go back to his work. But this name
+came back to him. 'Edmund Gray,' he murmured--'Edmund Gray. Who on earth
+is this Edmund Gray? Why did he get a cheque for 720_l_.?'
+
+The thing ceased to amuse him: it began to irritate him: in two minutes
+it began to torture him: he leaned back in his chair: he drummed with
+his fingers on the table: he took up the book and looked at the entry
+again. He got up and walked about the room--a long lean figure in a
+tight frock-coat. To walk about the room and to swing your arms often
+stimulates the memory. In this case, however, no good effect followed.
+The _nomme_ Edmund Gray remained a name and nothing more--the shadow of
+a name. Mr. Dering rapped the table with his paper-knife, as if to
+conjure up that shadow. Futile superstition! No shadow appeared. But how
+could the shadow of a name--an unknown name--carry off 720 golden
+sovereigns?
+
+'I feel as if I am going mad,' he murmured. 'Seven hundred and twenty
+pounds paid by myself in a single lump, only three weeks ago, and I
+remember nothing about it! I have no client named Edmund Gray. The money
+must therefore have been paid by me for some client to this unknown
+person. Yet it was paid by my cheque, and I don't remember it. Strange!
+I never forgot such a thing before.'
+
+There was an office bell on the table. He touched it. A clerk--an
+elderly clerk--an ancient clerk--obeyed the call. He was the clerk who
+sat in the room outside Mr. Dering's office: the clerk who wrote the
+cheques for the chief to sign, brought back the letters when they had
+been copied, directed the letters for the post, received visitors, and
+passed in cards: in fact, the private secretary, stage-manager--we all
+want a stage-manager in every profession--or confidential clerk. As
+befits a man of responsibility, he was dressed all in black, his office
+coat being as shiny as a mirror on the arms and on the shoulders: by
+long habit it hung in certain folds or curves which never unbent: his
+face was quite shaven and shorn: all that was left of his white hair was
+cut short: his eyes were keen and even foxy: his lips were thin: his
+general expression was one of watchfulness: when he watched his master
+it was with the attention of a servant: when he watched anybody else it
+was as one who watches a rogue, and would outwit him, if he could, at
+his own roguery. In certain commercial walks of the lower kind, where
+honour and morality consist in the success of attempts to cheat each
+other, this kind of expression is not uncommon. Whether his expression
+was good or bad, he was an excellent clerk: he was always at his post at
+nine in the morning: he never left the office before seven, and, because
+Mr. Dering was a whale for work, he sometimes stayed without a grumble
+until eight or even nine. Man and boy, Checkley had been in the office
+of Dering & Son for fifty-five years, entering as an errand-boy at
+twelve.
+
+'Checkley,' said his master, 'look at this bank book. Credit side.
+Fourth entry. Have you got it?'
+
+'Edmund Gray, 720_l_.,' the clerk read.
+
+'Yes. What is that cheque for? Who is Edmund Gray?'
+
+The clerk looked surprised. 'I don't know,' he said.
+
+'Why did I pay that money?'
+
+The clerk shook his head.
+
+'Did you look at the book when you laid it on the table?'
+
+The clerk nodded.
+
+'Well--what did you think of it?'
+
+'I didn't think of it at all. It wasn't one of the cheques you told me
+to draw about that time ago. If I had thought, I should have supposed it
+was your private business.'
+
+'I was not aware, Checkley, that I have any private affairs that you do
+not know.'
+
+'Well--but you might have.'
+
+'True. I might have. Just so. As I haven't--who, I ask you again--who is
+this Edmund Gray?'
+
+'I don't know.'
+
+'Have you ever heard of any Edmund Gray?'
+
+'Never to my knowledge.'
+
+'This is the first time you have heard that name?' the lawyer persisted.
+
+'The very first time.'
+
+'Consider. Is there any Edmund Gray in connection with any of my
+clients?'
+
+'Not to my knowledge.'
+
+'Not to your knowledge. Has any Edmund Gray ever been employed about the
+office?'
+
+'No--certainly not.'
+
+'We have recently been painted and papered and whitewashed and new
+carpeted at great expense and inconvenience. Did Edmund Gray conduct any
+of those operations?'
+
+'No.'
+
+'Has the name of Edmund Gray ever been mentioned in any letters that
+have come here?'
+
+It was notorious in the office that Checkley read all the letters that
+came, and that he never forgot the contents of any. If you named any
+letter he would at once tell you what was written in it, even if it were
+twenty years old.
+
+'I have never even heard the name of Edmund Gray in any letter or in any
+connection whatever,' the clerk replied firmly.
+
+'I put all these questions, Checkley, because I was pretty certain
+myself from the beginning; but I wanted to make myself quite certain. I
+thought it might be a trick of failing memory. Now, look at the name
+carefully'--the clerk screwed up his eyes tightly in order to get a good
+grip of the name. 'You see I have given him a cheque for 720_l_., only
+three weeks ago. I am not the kind of man to give away 720_l_. for
+nothing. Yet I have actually forgotten the whole business.'
+
+Certainly he did not look the kind of man to forget such a simple thing
+as the giving away of 720_l_. Quite the contrary. His grave face, his
+iron-grey hair, his firm lips, his keen, steady eyes, apart from the
+methodical regularity with which his papers were arranged before him,
+all proclaimed that he was very far from being that kind of man. Very
+much the reverse, indeed.
+
+'You don't mean to say, sir,' Checkley began, with a change in his face
+from watchfulness to terror--'you can't mean----'
+
+'I mean this, Checkley. I know of no Edmund Gray; and unless the bank
+has made a mistake, there has been committed--a--what do they call it in
+the law-courts?'
+
+The clerk held the bank book in his hand, staring at his master with
+open eyes. 'What?' he repeated. 'What do they call it? Good Lord! They
+call it forgery--and for 720_l_.! And on you, of all people in the
+world! And in this office! In our office!--our office! What a dreadful
+thing, to be sure! Oh, what a dreadful thing to happen! In our
+office--here!' The clerk seemed unable to express his astonishment.
+
+'First of all, get me the returned cheques.'
+
+The cheques always came back in the pocket of the bank book. Checkley
+was accustomed to take them out and to file them in their proper place.
+
+Again, Mr. Dering neither drew his cheques nor wrote his letters with
+his own hand. He only signed them. One clerk wrote the letters; another
+drew the cheques by his instruction and dictation.
+
+Checkley went back to his own room and returned with a bundle of
+returned drafts. He then looked in the safe--a great fireproof
+safe--that stood open in one corner of the room, and took out the
+current cheque book.
+
+'Here it is,' he said. 'Check drawn by you yourself in your own
+handwriting, and properly signed, payable to order--not crossed--and
+duly endorsed. Now you understand why I know nothing about it. Edmund
+Gray, Esquire, or order. Seven hundred and twenty pounds. Signed Dering
+& Son. Your own handwriting and your own signature.'
+
+'Let me look.' Mr. Dering took the paper and examined it. His eyes
+hardened as he looked. 'You call this my handwriting, Checkley?'
+
+'I--I--I did think it was,' the clerk stammered. 'Let me look again. And
+I think so still,' he added more firmly.
+
+'Then you're a fool. Look again. When did I ever sign like that?'
+
+Mr. Dering's handwriting was one of those which are impossible to be
+read by any except his own clerks, and then only when they know what to
+expect. Thus, when he drew up instructions in lawyer language, he
+expressed the important words by an initial, a medial, or a final
+consonant, and made scratches for all the words between; his clerks,
+however, understood him very well. If he had written a love letter, or a
+farce, or a _ballade_, or a story, no one, either clerks, or friends, or
+compositors, would have understood anything but a word here and a word
+there. For his signature, however, that was different. It was the
+signature of the Firm: it was a signature a hundred and twenty years
+old: it was an eighteenth-century signature: bold, large, and clear,
+every letter fully formed: with dots and flourishes, the last letter
+concluding with a fantasia of penmanship belonging to a time when men
+knew how to write, belonging to the decorative time of penmanship.
+
+'Two of the dots are out of place,' said Checkley, 'and the flourish
+isn't quite what it should be. But the cheque itself looks like your
+hand,' he added stoutly. 'I ought to have seen that there was something
+wrong about the signature, though it isn't much. I own to that. But the
+writing is like yours, and I would swear to it still.'
+
+'It isn't my handwriting at all, then. Where is the counterfoil?'
+
+Checkley turned over the counterfoils. 'What is the date?' he asked.
+'March the 4th? I can't find it. Here are cheques for the 3rd and for
+the 6th, but none at all for the 4th.'
+
+'Let me look.' Strange! There was no counterfoil. And the numbers did
+not agree with that on the cheque.
+
+'You haven't got another cheque book, have you?'
+
+'No; I certainly have not.'
+
+Mr. Dering sat with the cheque in his hand, looking at it. Then he
+compared it with a blank cheque. 'Why,' he said, 'this cheque is drawn
+from an old book--two years old--one of the books before the bank
+amalgamated and changed its title and the form of the cheques--not much
+of a change, it is true--but--how could we be such fools, Checkley, as
+not to see the difference?'
+
+'Then somebody or other must have got hold of an old cheque book.
+Shameful! To have cheque books lying about for every common rogue to go
+and steal!'
+
+Mr. Dering reflected. Then he looked up and said: 'Look again in the
+safe. In the left-hand compartment over the drawer, I think you will
+find an old cheque book. It belonged to a separate account--a Trust.
+That has been closed. The book should be there.--Ah! There it is.--I
+wonder now,' the lawyer went on, 'how I came to remember that book? It
+is more than two years since I last used it or even thought of it.
+Another trick of memory. We forget nothing, in fact, nothing at all.
+Give it to me. Strange, that I should remember so slight a thing.
+Now--here are the cheques, you see--colour the same--lettering the
+same--size the same--the only difference being the style and title of
+the Company. The fellow must have got hold of an old book left about, as
+you say, carelessly. Ah!' His colour changed. 'Here's the very
+counterfoil we wanted! Look! the number corresponds. The cheque was
+actually taken from this very book! a book in my own safe! in this very
+office! Checkley, what does this mean?'
+
+Checkley took the book from his master with a trembling hand, and read
+feebly the writing of the counterfoil, March 4th, 1883. Edmund Gray,
+720_l_.'
+
+'Lord knows what it means,' he said. 'I never came across such a thing
+in my life before.'
+
+'Most extraordinary! It is two years since I have given a thought to
+the existence of that book. Yet I remembered it the moment when it
+became useful. Well, Checkley, what have you got to say? Can't you
+speak?'
+
+'Nothing--nothing. O Lord, what should I have to say. If you didn't draw
+that cheque with your own hand----'
+
+'I did not draw that cheque with my own hand.'
+
+'Then--then it must have been drawn by somebody else's hand.'
+
+'Exactly.'
+
+'Perhaps you dictated it.'
+
+'Don't be a fool, Checkley. Keep your wits together, though this is a
+new kind of case for you. Criminal law is not exactly in your line. Do
+you think I should dictate my own handwriting as well as my own words?'
+
+'No. But I could swear--I could indeed--that it is your writing.'
+
+'Let us have no more questions and answers. It is a forgery. It is a
+forgery. It is not a common forgery. It has been committed in my own
+office. Who can have done it? Let me think'--he placed the cheque and
+the old cheque book before him. 'This book has been in my safe for two
+years. I had forgotten its very existence. The safe is only used for my
+private papers. I open it every morning myself at ten o'clock. I shut it
+when I go up-stairs to lunch. I open it again when I return. I close it
+when I go away. I have not departed from this custom for thirty years. I
+could no more sit in this room with the safe shut--I could no more go
+away with the safe open--than I could walk the streets in my shirt
+sleeves. Therefore, not only has the forgery been committed by some one
+who has had access to my safe, but by some one who has stolen the cheque
+in my very presence and before my eyes. This consideration should narrow
+the field.' He looked at the cheque again. 'It is dated March the 4th.
+The date may mean nothing. But it was presented on the 5th. Who came to
+my room on the 4th or the days preceding? Go and find out.'
+
+Checkley retired and brought back his journal.
+
+'You saw on the 4th----' He read the list of callers.
+
+'That doesn't help,' said Mr. Dering.
+
+'On the 1st, 2d, 3d, and 4th you had Mr. Arundel working with you here
+every day from ten till twelve.'
+
+'Mr. Arundel. Yes, I remember. Anybody else?'
+
+'Nobody else.'
+
+'You forget yourself, Checkley,' Mr. Dering said. 'You were, as usual,
+in and out at different times.'
+
+'O Lord! sir-- I hope you don't think----' The old clerk stammered,
+turning pale.
+
+'I think nothing, I want to find out. Go to the bank. See the manager.
+Let him tell you if he can find out by whom the cheque was cashed. If in
+notes--it must have been in notes--let those notes be instantly stopped.
+It is not crossed, so that we must not expect anything so simple as the
+Clearing House. Go at once and find out exactly what happened.'
+
+This happened at about half-past ten. The bank was no more than five
+minutes' walk. Yet it was twelve o'clock when the clerk returned.
+
+'Well, what have you found out?' asked the master.
+
+'I have found out a great deal,' Checkley began eagerly. 'First, I saw
+the manager, and I saw the pay clerk. The cheque was handed in by a
+commissionaire. Everybody trusts a commissionaire. The pay clerk knows
+your signature, and thought it was all right. I showed the cheque to the
+manager. He knows your handwriting, and he says he would swear that the
+cheque was drawn by you yourself. So I am not such a fool as you think.'
+
+'Go on.'
+
+'The commissionaire told the pay clerk that he was ordered to take it
+all in ten-pound notes. He took them, put them in his pouch, and walked
+away. He was a one-armed man, and took a long time over the job, and
+didn't seem a bit in a hurry.'
+
+'About the notes?'
+
+'The manager will stop them at once. But he says that if the thing was
+done by an old hand, there must be confederates in it, and there will be
+trouble. However, the notes are stopped. That's done. Then I went on to
+the commissionaires' barracks in the Strand. The sergeant very soon
+found the man, and I had a talk with him. He was employed by an old
+gentleman, he says, staying at the Cecil Hotel, Strand. The old
+gentleman sent him to the bank with instructions to get the money in
+ten-pound notes; and very particular he was with him about not losing
+any of them on the way. He didn't seem a bit in a hurry either. Took
+the notes from the man and laid them in a pocket-book. It was in the
+coffee-room, and half a dozen other gentlemen were there at the same
+time. But this gentleman seemed alone.'
+
+'Humph! A pretty cool business, upon my word! No hurry about it. Plenty
+of time. That was because they knew that the old cheque book would not
+be found and examined.'
+
+'Why did they write the cheque on the counterfoil? Why did they put the
+cheque book back again--after they had taken it out?'
+
+'I don't know. The workings of a forger's brain are not within the
+compass of my experiences. Go on, Checkley.'
+
+'The commissionaire says that he is certain he would know the gentleman
+again.'
+
+'Very good indeed, if we can only find the gentleman.'
+
+'I then went on to the Cecil Hotel and saw the head waiter of the
+coffee-room. He remembered the commissionaire being sent for: he saw the
+bundle of bank-notes brought back from the bank, and he remembers the
+old gentleman very well. Says he should certainly know him again.'
+
+'Did he describe him?'
+
+'There didn't seem anything particular to describe. He was of average
+height, so to speak, dressed in grey trousers and a black frock-coat,
+and was grey-haired. Much as if I was to describe you.'
+
+'Oh! The notes are stopped. Yet in three weeks there has been ample time
+to get them all changed. Every note may have been changed into gold in
+three weeks. An elderly gentleman: grey hair: average height: that tells
+us nothing. Checkley, the thing has been done by some one who had, or
+still has, access to my safe. Perhaps, in some way or other, keys have
+been procured. In that case----' He stepped over to the safe and opened
+a drawer. 'See, Checkley; this drawer is untouched: it is full of
+jewellery and things which belonged to my mother. Nothing touched. Here
+is a bag of spade guineas again--nothing taken. What do you say to that?
+If the forger had possessed keys, he would, first of all, have cleared
+out the things which he could turn into money without any difficulty and
+very little risk. Nothing taken except that cheque, and the cheque book
+replaced. What do you say to that? Eh?'
+
+'I don't know what to say. I'm struck stupid. I never heard of such a
+thing before.'
+
+'Nor I. Why, it must have been done in this room, while the safe was
+open, while I was actually present. That is the only solution possible.
+Again, who has been in this room?'
+
+'All the callers--I read their names to you--your clients.'
+
+'They all sit in that chair. They never leave that chair so long as they
+are with me.' He indicated the chair which stood at the corner of the
+lawyer's great table at his left hand. Now the safe was in the far
+corner, on the other side of the room. 'They could not possibly----
+Checkley, the only two who could possibly have access to that safe in
+office hours are yourself and Mr. Arundel.'
+
+'Good heavens! sir--you can't believe--you can't actually think----'
+
+'I believe nothing. I told you so before. I think nothing. I want the
+facts.'
+
+The room was long rather than square, lit by two large windows,
+overlooking the gardens of New Square, Lincoln's Inn. The lawyer sat
+with his back to the fire, protected by a cane-screen, before a large
+table. On his left hand, at the corner of the table, stood the clients'
+chair: on his right hand, between the two windows, was a small table
+with a couple of drawers in it. And in the corner, to the left of any
+one writing at the small table, and on the right hand of the lawyer, was
+the open safe already mentioned. There were two doors, one communicating
+with the clerk's room, the other opening directly on the stairs. The
+latter was locked on the inside.
+
+'Call Mr. Arundel,' said the chief.
+
+While Checkley was gone, he walked to the window and observed that any
+one sitting at the table could, by merely reaching out, take anything
+from the safe and put it back again unobserved, if he himself happened
+to be occupied or looking another way. His grave face became dark. He
+returned to his own chair, and sat thinking, while his face grew darker
+and his eyes harder, until Mr. Arundel appeared.
+
+Athelstan Arundel was at this time a recently admitted member of the
+respectable but too numerous family of solicitors. He was between two
+and three and twenty years of age, a tall and handsome young fellow, of
+a good manly type. He was an ex-articled clerk of the House, and he had
+just been appointed a Managing Clerk until something could be found for
+him. The Arundels were a City family of some importance: perhaps
+something in a City Firm might presently be achieved by the united
+influence of family and money. Meantime, here he was, at work, earning a
+salary and gaining experience. Checkley--for his part, who was as
+jealous of his master as only an old servant, or a young mistress, has
+the right to be--had imagined symptoms or indications of a growing
+preference or favour toward this young gentleman on the part of Mr.
+Dering. Certainly, he had Mr. Arundel in his own office a good deal, and
+gave him work of a most confidential character. Besides, Mr. Dering was
+Executor and Trustee for young Arundel's mother, and he had been an old
+friend and schoolfellow of his father, and had known the young man and
+his two sisters from infancy.
+
+'Mr. Arundel,' the lawyer began. At his own house, he addressed his ward
+by his Christian name: in the office, as managing clerk, he prefixed the
+courtesy title. 'An extremely disagreeable thing has happened here.
+Nothing short of a forgery.--Don't interrupt me, if you please'--for the
+young man looked as if he was about to practise his interjections.--'It
+is a most surprising thing, I admit. You needn't say so, however. That
+wastes time. A Forgery. On the fifth of this month, three weeks ago, a
+cheque, apparently in my handwriting, and with my signature, so
+skilfully executed as to deceive even Checkley and the manager of the
+bank, was presented at my bank and duly cashed. The amount
+is--large--720_l_.--and the sum was paid across the counter in ten-pound
+notes, which are now stopped--if there are any left.' He kept his eyes
+fixed on the young man, whose face betrayed no other emotion than that
+of natural surprise. 'We shall doubtless trace these notes, and through
+them, of course, the forger. We have already ascertained who presented
+the cheque. You follow?'
+
+'Certainly. There has been a forgery. The forged cheque has been cashed.
+The notes are stopped. Have you any clue to the forgery--any
+suspicions?'
+
+'As yet, none. We are only beginning to collect the facts.' The lawyer
+spoke in the coldest and most austere manner. 'I am laying them, one by
+one, before you.'
+
+Young Arundel bowed.
+
+'Observe then, that the forged cheque belongs to a cheque book which
+has been lying, forgotten by me, in this safe for two years. Here is the
+book. Turn to the last counterfoil. Here is the cheque, the forged
+cheque, which corresponds. You see?'
+
+'Perfectly. The book has been in the safe for two years. It has been
+taken out by someone--presumably the forger--the cheque has been forged;
+the counterfoil filled up; and the book replaced. Why was all this
+trouble taken? If the man had got the cheque, why did he fill up the
+counterfoil? Why did he return the book? I beg your pardon.'
+
+'Your questions are pertinent. I come to the next point. The safe is
+never opened but by myself. It is open so long as I am in the room, and
+at no other time.'
+
+'Certainly, I know that.'
+
+'Very well. The man who took out this cheque book, forged the cheque,
+and replaced the book, must have done it in my very presence.'
+
+'Oh! Could not someone--somehow--have got a key?'
+
+'I thought of that. It is possible. But the drawers are full of
+valuables, jewellery--curios--all kinds of things which could easily be
+turned into money. And they were not touched. Now, had the safe been
+opened by a key, these things would certainly have vanished.'
+
+'So it would seem.'
+
+'These are the main facts, Mr. Arundel. Oh! one more. We have found the
+messenger who cashed the cheque. Perhaps there are one or two other
+points of more or less importance. There is only one more point I wish
+to bring before you. Of course--I make no charge--I insinuate none. But
+this must be remembered--there are only two persons who have had access
+to this safe in such a manner as to make it possible for them to take
+anything out of it-- Checkley----'
+
+'No--no--no,' cried the old man.
+
+'And you yourself. At the time of the robbery, you were working at that
+table with the safe open and within reach of your left hand. This is a
+fact, mind--one of the facts of the case--not a charge.'
+
+'What?' cried the young man, his cheek aflame--'you mean----'
+
+'I mean nothing--nothing at all. I want you--and Checkley--who alone
+have used this room, not counting callers who sat in that chair--to know
+the facts.'
+
+'The facts--yes--of course--the facts. Well'--he spoke rapidly and a
+little incoherently--'it is true that I worked here--but--oh! it is
+absurd. I know nothing of any cheque book lying in your safe. I was
+working at this table'--he went to the table--'sitting in this chair.
+How could I get up and search about in a safe for an unknown and
+unsuspected cheque book before your very eyes?'
+
+'I do not know. It seems impossible. I only desire you to consider, with
+me, the facts.'
+
+Had Mr. Dering spoken just a little less coldly, with just a little less
+dryness in his manner, what followed would perhaps have been different.
+
+'Yes--the facts,' repeated the young man. 'Well--let us get at the
+facts. The chief fact is that whoever took that cheque and filled it up
+must have known the existence of that cheque book more than two years
+old.'
+
+'It would seem so.'
+
+'Who could know about that old cheque book? Only one who had been about
+your office more than two years, or one who had had opportunities of
+examining the safe. Now, you sat there--I sat here'--he seated himself,
+only turning the chair round. 'How is it possible for a man sitting here
+to take anything out of that safe without your seeing him? How is it
+possible for him, without your knowledge, to examine slowly and
+carefully the contents of the safe?'
+
+'Everything is possible,' said Mr. Dering, still coldly. 'Let us not
+argue on possibilities. We have certain facts before us. By the help of
+these, I shall hope to find out others.'
+
+'At five o'clock every day I put the work in the drawer of this table
+and I go away.' He opened the drawer, as if to illustrate this
+unimportant fact. He saw in it two or three pieces of paper with writing
+on them. He took them out. 'Good Heavens!' he cried. 'They are
+imitations of your handwriting.'
+
+Checkley crossed the room swiftly, snatched them from him, and laid them
+before his master. 'Imitations of your handwriting,' he said,
+'imitations--exercises in forgery--practice makes perfect. Found in the
+drawer. Now!'
+
+Mr. Dering looked at the papers and laid them beside the forged cheque.
+'An additional fact,' he said. 'These are certainly imitations. The
+probable conclusion is that they were made by the same hand that forged
+this cheque.'
+
+'Found in the drawer,' said Checkley, 'used by Mr. Arundel. Never by me.
+Ah! The only two, are we? These imitations will prove that I'm not in
+it.'
+
+'The fact that these imitations are found in the drawer,' said Mr.
+Dering, 'is a fact which may or may not be important.'
+
+'What?' cried the young man, flaring up. 'You think that I made those
+imitations?'
+
+'I do not permit myself--yet--to make any conclusions at all.
+Everything, however, is possible.'
+
+Then this foolish young man lost his temper and his head.
+
+'You have known me all my life,' he cried. 'You have known me and all my
+people. Yet at the first moment you are ready to believe that I have
+committed a most abominable forgery! You--my father's oldest friend--my
+mother's Trustee! My own Guardian! You!'
+
+'Pardon me. There are certain facts in this case. I have laid them
+before you. I have shown----'
+
+'To suspect me,' Arundel repeated, 'and all the time another man--that
+man--your clerk--who knows everything ever done in this office, is in
+and about the place all day long.'
+
+'The imitations,' said Checkley quietly, 'were found in his own
+drawer--by himself.'
+
+'Who put them there? Who made them? You--villain and scoundrel!'
+
+'Stop, stop,' said Mr. Dering coldly. 'We go too fast. Let us first
+prove our facts. We will then proceed to conclusions.'
+
+'Well, sir, you clearly believe that I forged your name and robbed you
+of all this money. I have not got ten pounds in the world; but that is
+not, I suppose, a fact which bears on the case. You think I have seven
+hundred pounds somewhere. Very good. Think so, if you please. Meanwhile,
+I am not going to stay in the service of a man who is capable of
+thinking such a thing. I leave your service--at once. Get some one else
+to serve you--somebody who likes being charged with forgery and theft.'
+He flung himself out of the room and banged the door behind him.
+
+'He has run away,' said Checkley. 'Actually, run away at the very
+outset! What do you think now?'
+
+'I do not think. We shall, I daresay, find out the truth in due course.
+Meantime, these documents will remain in my keeping.'
+
+'Only, I hope, sir,' the clerk began, 'that after what you've just seen
+and heard, after such insolence and running away and all----'
+
+'Don't be an ass, Checkley. So far as appearances go, no one could get
+at the safe except you and Arundel. So far as the ascertained facts go,
+there is nothing to connect either of you with the thing. He is a
+foolish young man; and if he is innocent, which we must, I suppose,
+believe'--but his look did not convey the idea of robust faith--'he will
+come back when he has cooled down.'
+
+'The imitations of your handwriting in his drawer----'
+
+'The man who forged the cheque,' said Mr. Dering, 'whoever he was, could
+easily have written those imitations. I shall see that hot-headed boy's
+mother, and bring him to reason.--Now, Checkley, we will resume work.
+And not a word of this business, if you please, outside. You have
+yourself to think of as well, remember. You, as well as that boy, have
+access to the safe. Enough--enough.'
+
+Athelstan Arundel walked home all the way, foaming and raging. No
+omnibus, cab, or conveyance ever built could contain a young man in such
+a rage. His mother lived at Pembridge Square, which is four good
+measured miles from Lincoln's Inn. He walked the whole way, walking
+through crowds, and under the noses of dray-horses, carriage-horses, and
+cart-horses, without taking the least notice of them. When he reached
+home, he dashed into the drawing-room, where he found his two
+sisters--Hilda and Elsie--one of them a girl of eighteen, the other of
+thirteen. With flaming cheeks and fiery eyes he delivered himself of his
+story; he hurled it at their heads; he called upon them to share his
+indignation, and to join with him in scorn and contempt of the
+man--their supposed best friend, Trustee, Guardian, Adviser--their
+father's best friend--who had done this thing--who had accused him, on
+the bare evidence of two or three circumstantial facts, of such a crime!
+
+There is something magnetic in all great emotions: one proof of their
+reality is that they are magnetic. It is only an actor who can endow an
+assumed emotion with magnetism. Elsie, the younger girl, fell into a
+corresponding sympathy of wrath: she was equal to the occasion: passion
+for passion, she joined him and fed the flame. But--for all persons are
+not magnetic--the elder sister remained cold. From time to time she
+wanted to know exactly what Mr. Dering had said: this her brother was
+too angry to remember: she was pained and puzzled: she neither soothed
+him nor sympathised with him.
+
+Then the mother returned, and the whole story was told again, Elsie
+assisting. Now, Mrs. Arundel was a woman of great sense: a practical
+woman: a woman of keen judgment. She prided herself upon the possession
+of these qualities, which are not supposed to be especially feminine.
+She heard the story with disturbed face and knitted brow.
+
+'Surely,' she said, 'what you tell me, Athelstan, is beyond belief. Mr.
+Dering, of all men, to accuse you--you--of such a thing! It is
+impossible.'
+
+'I wish it was impossible. He accuses me of forging that cheque for
+720_l_. He says that while I was working in his office for him, a
+fortnight ago, I took a certain cheque book out of the safe, forged his
+writing on a cheque, and returned the cheque book. This is what he says.
+Do you call that accusing, or don't you?'
+
+'Certainly. If he says that. But how can he--Mr. Dering--the most exact
+and careful of men? I will drive to Lincoln's Inn at once and find out.
+My dear boy, pray calm yourself. There is--there must be--some terrible
+mistake.'
+
+She went immediately; and she had a long interview with the solicitor.
+
+Mr. Dering was evidently much disturbed by what had happened. He did not
+receive her as he usually received his clients, sitting in his
+arm-chair. He pushed back the chair and stood up, leaning a hand on the
+back of it, a tall, thin, erect figure, gray-haired, austere of face.
+There was little to reassure the mother in that face. The very trouble
+of it made her heart sink.
+
+'I certainly have not accused Athelstan,' he said. 'It is, however,
+quite true that there has been a robbery here, and that of a large sum
+of money--no less than 720_l_.'
+
+'But what has that to do with my boy?'
+
+'We have made a few preliminary inquiries. I will do for you, Mrs.
+Arundel, what I did for your son, and you shall yourself understand
+what connection those inquiries have with him.'
+
+He proceeded coldly and without comment to set forth the case so far as
+he had got at the facts. As he went on, the mother's heart became as
+heavy as lead. Before he finished, she was certain. There is, you see, a
+way of presenting a case without comment which is more efficacious than
+any amount of talk; and Mrs. Arundel plainly perceived--which was indeed
+the case--that the lawyer had by this time little doubt in his own mind
+that her son had done this thing.
+
+'I thought it right,' he continued, 'to lay before him these facts at
+the outset. If he is innocent, I thought, he will be the better able to
+prove his innocence, and perhaps to find the guilty person. If he is
+guilty, he may be led to confession or restitution. The facts about the
+cheque book and the safe are very clear. I am certain that the safe has
+not been opened by any other key. The only persons who have had access
+to it are Checkley and your son Athelstan. As for Checkley--he couldn't
+do it, he could not possibly do it. The thing is quite beyond him.'
+
+Mrs. Arundel groaned. 'This is terrible!' she said.
+
+'Meantime, the notes are numbered: they may be traced: they are stopped:
+we shall certainly find the criminal by means of those notes.'
+
+'Mr. Dering'--Mrs. Arundel rose and laid her hand on his--'you are our
+very old friend. Tell me--if this wretched boy goes away--if he gives
+back the money that remains--if I find the rest--will there be--any
+further--investigation?'
+
+'To compound a felony is a crime. It is, however, one of those crimes
+which men sometimes commit without repentance or shame. My dear lady, if
+he will confess and restore--we shall see.'
+
+Mrs. Arundel drove home again. She came away fully persuaded in her own
+mind that her son--her only son--and none other, must be that guilty
+person. She knew Mr. Dering's room well: she had sat there hundreds of
+times: she knew the safe: she knew old Checkley. She perceived the
+enormous improbability of this ancient clerk's doing such a thing. She
+knew, again, what temptations assail a young man in London: she saw what
+her Trustee thought of it: and she jumped to the conclusion that her
+son--and none other--was the guilty person. She even saw how he must
+have done it: she saw the quick look while Mr. Dering's back was turned:
+the snatching of the cheque book: the quick replacing it. Her very
+keenness of judgment helped her to the conviction. Women less clever
+would have been slower to believe. Shameful, miserable termination of
+all her hopes for her boy's career! But that she could think of
+afterwards. For the moment the only thing was to get the boy away--to
+induce him to confess--and to get him away.
+
+He was calmer when she got home, but he was still talking about
+the thing: he would wait till the right man was discovered: then
+he would have old Dering on his knees. The thing would be set right
+in a few days. He had no fear of any delay. He was quite certain
+that it was Checkley--that old villain. Oh! He couldn't do it by
+himself, of course--nobody could believe that of him. He had
+accomplices--confederates--behind him. Checkley's part of the job was to
+steal the cheque book and give it to his confederates and share the
+swag.
+
+'Well, mother?' he asked.
+
+His mother sat down. She looked pale and wretched.
+
+'Mother,' cried Hilda, the elder sister. 'Quick! What has happened? What
+does Mr. Dering say?'
+
+'He accuses nobody,' she replied in a hard dry voice. 'But----'
+
+'But what?' asked Hilda.
+
+'He told me everything--everything--and--and----Oh!' She burst into sobs
+and crying, though she despised women who cry. 'It is terrible-- It is
+terrible-- It is incredible. Yet, what can I think? What can any one
+think? Leave us, Hilda. Leave us, Elsie.' The two girls went out
+unwillingly. 'Oh! my son--how can I believe it? And yet--on the one
+hand, a boy of two-and-twenty exposed to all the temptations of town: on
+the other, an old clerk of fifty years' service and integrity. And when
+the facts are laid before you both--calmly and coldly--you fly into a
+rage and run away, while Checkley calmly remains to await the inquiry.'
+
+Mrs. Arundel had been accustomed all her life to consider Mr. Dering as
+the wisest of men. She felt instinctively that he regarded her son with
+suspicion: she heard all the facts: she jumped to the conclusion that he
+was a prodigal and a profligate: that he had fallen into evil ways, and
+spent money in riotous living: she concluded that he had committed these
+crimes in order to get more money for more skittles and oranges.
+
+'Athelstan '--she laid her hand upon his arm, but did not dare to lift
+her eyes and behold that guilty face--'Athelstan'--confess--make
+reparation so far as you can--confess--oh! my son--my son! You will be
+caught and tried and found guilty, and--oh! I cannot say it--through the
+notes which you have changed. They are all known and stopped.'
+
+The boy's wrath was now changed to madness.
+
+'You!' he cried. 'You! My own mother! You believe it, no! Oh! we are all
+going mad together. What? Then I am turned out of this house, as I am
+turned out of my place. I go, then--I go; and'--here he swore a mighty
+oath, as strong as anybody out of Spain can make them--'I will
+never--never--never come home again till you come yourself to beg
+forgiveness--you--my own mother!'
+
+Outside, in the hall, his sisters stood, waiting and trembling.
+
+'Athelstan,' cried the elder, 'what, in the name of Heaven, have you
+done?'
+
+'Go, ask my mother. She will tell you. She knows, it seems, better than
+I know myself. I am driven away by my own mother. She says that I am
+guilty of--of--of forgery.'
+
+'If she says so, Athelstan,' his sister replied coldly, 'she must have
+her reasons. She would not drive you out of the house for nothing. Don't
+glare like that. Prove your innocence.'
+
+'What? You, too? Oh! I am driven away by my sisters as well----'
+
+'No, Athelstan--no,' cried Elsie, catching his hand. 'Not both your
+sisters.'
+
+'My poor child;' he stooped and kissed her. 'They will make you believe
+what they believe. Good Heavens! They make haste to believe it; they are
+glad to believe it.'
+
+'No--no. Don't go, Athelstan.' Elsie threw her arms about him. 'Stay,
+and show that they are wrong. Oh! you are innocent. I will
+never--never--never believe it.'
+
+He kissed her again, and tore himself away. The street door slammed
+behind him: they heard his footsteps as he strode away. He had gone.
+
+Then Elsie fell into loud weeping and wailing. But Hilda went to comfort
+her mother.
+
+'Mother,' she said, 'did he really, really and truly do it?'
+
+'What else can I believe? Either he did it or that old clerk. Where is
+he?'
+
+'He is gone. He says he will come back when his innocence is proved.
+Mother, if he is innocent, why does he run away? It's foolish to say
+that it is because we believe it. I've said nothing except that you
+couldn't believe it without reasons. Innocent young men don't run away
+when they are charged with robbery. They stay and fight it out.
+Athelstan should have stayed.'
+
+Later on, when they were both a little recovered, Hilda tried to
+consider the subject more calmly. She had not her mother's cleverness,
+but she was not without parts. The following remarks--made by a girl of
+eighteen--prove so much.
+
+'Mother,' she said, 'perhaps it is better, so long as this suspicion
+rests upon him, that he should be away. We shall certainly know where
+he is: he will want money, and will write for it. If it should prove
+that somebody else did the thing, we can easily bring him back as a
+martyr--for my own part I should be so glad that I would willingly
+beg his pardon on my knees--and of course we could easily get him
+replaced in the office. If it is proved that he did do it--and that,
+you think, they will be certain to find out--Mr. Dering, for your sake,
+will be ready to hush it up--perhaps we may get the notes back--he
+can't have used them all; in any case it will be a great comfort to
+feel that he is out of the way: a brother convicted--tried in open
+court--sentenced--oh!' She shuddered. 'We should never get over it:
+never, never! It would be a most dreadful thing for Elsie and me. As for
+his going away, if people ask why he is gone and where, we must invent
+something--we can easily make up a story--hint that he has been
+wild--there is no disgrace, happily, about a young man being wild--that
+is the only thing that reconciles one to the horrid selfishness of wild
+young men--and if, by going away in a pretended rage, Athelstan has
+really enabled us to escape a horrid scandal--why, mother, in that
+case--we may confess that the blow has been by Providence most
+mercifully softened for us--most mercifully. We ought to consider that,
+mother.'
+
+'Yes, dear, yes. But he is gone. Athelstan is gone. And his future
+seems ruined. There is no hope for him. I can see no hope whatever. My
+dear, he was so promising. I thought that all the family influence would
+be his--we haven't got a single City solicitor in the whole family. I
+thought that he was so clever and so ambitious and so eager to get on
+and make money and be a credit to the family. Solicitors do
+sometimes--especially City solicitors--become so very, very rich; and
+now it is all gone and done--and nothing left to hope but the miserable
+wish that there should be no scandal.'
+
+'It is indeed dreadful. But still--consider--no scandal. Mother, I think
+we should find out, if we can, something about his private life--how he
+has been living. He has been out a good deal of evenings lately. If
+there is any--any person--on whom he has been tempted to spend money--if
+he has been gambling--or betting, or any of the things that I read
+of'--this young lady, thanks to the beneficent assistance of certain
+works of fiction, was tolerably acquainted with the ways of young men
+and their temptations--'it would be a satisfaction to know it at least.'
+
+The ladies of a family where there is a 'wild' young man do not
+generally find it easy to get at the facts of his wildness: these remain
+locked up in the bosoms of his companions. No details could be learned
+about any wildness--quite the contrary. He seemed, so far as could be
+learned, to have led a very quiet and regular life. 'But then,' said the
+philosopher of eighteen, quoting from a novel, 'men shelter each other.
+They are all bad together.'
+
+But--no scandal.
+
+Everybody knows that kind of brother or sister by whom all family events
+are considered with a view to the scandal likely to be caused and the
+personal injury resulting to himself; or the envy that will follow and
+the personal advantage accruing from that event. That her brother was
+perhaps a shameful criminal might be considered by Hilda Arundel later
+on: at first, she was only capable of perceiving that this horrid fact,
+unless it could be hidden away and kept secret, might very materially
+injure herself.
+
+Almost naturally, she folded her hands sweetly and laid her comely head
+a little on one side--it is an attitude of resignation which may be
+observed in certain pictures of saints and holy women. Hilda knew many
+little attitudes. Also, quite naturally, she glanced at a mirror on the
+wall and observed that her pose was one of sorrow borne with Christian
+resignation.
+
+We must blame neither Hilda nor her mother. The case as put by Mr.
+Dering in the form of plain fact without any comment, did seem very
+black indeed against Athelstan. In every family the first feeling in
+such a case--it is the instinct of self-preservation--is to hush up the
+thing if possible--to avoid a scandal.
+
+Such a scandal as the prosecution of a brother for forgery--with a
+verdict of guilty--is a most truly horrible, deplorable, fatal thing. It
+takes the respectability out of a family perhaps at a critical moment,
+when the family is just assuming the robes of respectability: it ruins
+the chances of the girls: it blights the prospects of the boys: it
+drives away friends: it is a black spot which all the soaps ever
+advertised could never wash off. Therefore, while the mother hoped,
+first of all, that the boy would escape the clutch of the law, Hilda
+was, first of all, grateful that there would be no scandal. Mr. Dering
+would not talk about it. The thing would not interfere with her own
+prospects. It was sad: it was miserable; but yet--no scandal. With what
+a deep, deep sigh of satisfaction did the young lady repeat that there
+would probably be no scandal!
+
+As for Elsie, that child went about for many days with tearful eyes, red
+cheeks, and a swollen nose. She was rebellious and sharp with her
+mother. And to her sister she refused to speak. The days went on. They
+became weeks, months, years. Otherwise they would not have been days.
+Nothing at all was heard of Athelstan. He sent no letters to any one: he
+did not even write for money: they knew not where he was or what he was
+doing. He disappeared. It was understood that there had been wildness.
+
+Now--which was very remarkable--though the forger had had a clear run of
+three weeks, it could not be discovered that any of the notes had been
+presented. Perhaps they were sent abroad: yet foreign and colonial banks
+would know the numbers of stopped notes. And towards the discovery of
+the forger no further step had been taken. The commissionaire who took
+the cheque had been, as you have seen, easily found: he said he should
+know the old gentleman who gave him the forged draft to cash. He said,
+being again interrogated, that Checkley was not in the least like that
+old gentleman. What could be thought, then? Athelstan must have 'made
+up' as an old man: he was fond of private theatricals: he could make up
+very well: of course he had made up. And then, this point being settled,
+they left off talking about the business.
+
+Other things happened--important things--which made the memory of the
+prodigal son to wax dim. First of all came Hilda's case. She was a
+graceful young person, with features of great regularity: her expression
+was cold, her eyes were hard, and her lips were a little thin, but these
+things at nineteen are hardly perceived. She was that sort of a girl who
+seems created for the express purpose, first of wearing and beautifying
+costly raiment, and next of sitting in a splendid vehicle. The finer the
+dress, the more beautiful she looked. The grander the carriage, the more
+queenly she seemed. In rags her coldness would be arctic, her hardness
+would be granitic: in silk and velvet she became a goddess. It was
+therefore most fitting that she should marry a rich man. Now, to be rich
+in these days, one must be old. It is the price that one has to pay for
+wealth. Sometimes one pays the price and gets old, and yet does not get
+what one has paid for. That seems hardly fair. There was a certain rich
+man, Mr. Dering's younger brother, Sir Samuel Dering, Knight, one of the
+most substantial City men, a man who had a house in Kensington Palace
+Gardens, a yacht, a country place in Sussex, and piles of papers in a
+safe, meaning investments. He was a widower without encumbrance: he was
+fifty-seven years of age, not yet decayed: he wanted a wife to be the
+mistress of his house, and to look well at his dinner-parties. Of
+course, when one does want a wife, at any age, one wants her young.
+Hilda Arundel, his brother's ward, looked as if she would discharge the
+duties required of the position admirably. He suggested the arrangement
+to his brother, who spoke about it.
+
+There was a good deal of taking about it. Mrs. Arundel showed that she
+knew the value of her daughter; but there was no doubt about the
+conclusion of the matter. There was a grand wedding, at which all the
+richer Arundels were present, and none of the poor relations. Mr.
+Dering, the young lady's guardian, gave her away; Hilda became Lady
+Dering, and has been perfectly happy ever since. Elsie remained with her
+mother. Her brother was never spoken of between them. But she
+remembered him, and she was firm in her conviction that his innocence
+would be some day established.
+
+After five years, nothing at all having been heard of the notes, Mr.
+Dering made application to the Bank of England, and received from them
+the sum of 720_l_. in new crisp notes in the place of those of which he
+had been robbed, so that the actual loss at 4 per cent. compound
+interest amounted to no more than 155_l_. 19_s_. 9-3/4_d_., which is
+more than one likes to lose, yet is not actually embarrassing to a man
+whose income is about ten thousand a year. He ceased to think about the
+business altogether, except as a disagreeable episode of his office.
+
+Then Athelstan Arundel became completely forgotten. His old friends, the
+young men with whom he had played and sported, only remembered him from
+time to time as a fellow who had come to some unknown grief, and had
+gone away. There is always some young fellow in every set of young
+fellows who gets into some scrape, and so leaves the circle, and is no
+more seen or heard of. We go on just the same without him: very seldom
+is such a man remembered long: it is the way of the world: we cannot
+stop to lament over the fallen: we must push on: others fall: close up
+the ranks: push on: Time drives: the memory of the fallen swiftly waxes
+dim.
+
+Fours years or so after the mysterious business of Edmund Gray, Mr.
+Dering received a letter with an American stamp marked 'Private and
+Confidential.' He laid this aside until he had got through the business
+letters; then he opened it. He turned first to the signature. 'Ha!' he
+said, 'Athelstan Arundel. At last. Now we shall see. We shall see.'
+
+He expected a full confession of the crime. We should never expect, says
+the Sage, what we desire, because we never obtain what we expect. It
+would have made Mr. Dering more comfortable in his mind had the letter
+contained a confession. Of course, Athelstan had done it. Nobody else
+could have done it. Yet when he thought about the business at all, there
+always arose in his mind an uneasy feeling that perhaps the boy had been
+treated unwisely. It might have been more prudent to have kept the facts
+from him, although they pointed so strongly in his direction, until
+proof positive was obtained. It might, again, have been better had the
+facts been put before him with a few words of confidence, even though
+that confidence did not exist. Time only strengthened Mr. Dering's
+suspicions against the young man. The thing _must_ have been done by
+Checkley or by him. Now, Checkley was not able, if he had wished, to
+imitate any handwriting. No! It was done by Athelstan. Why he did it,
+what he got by it, seeing that those notes had never been presented, no
+one could explain. But he did it--he did it. That was certain.
+
+Mr. Dering therefore began to read the letter with interest. Its
+commencement was without any opening words of respect or friendliness.
+And it was not by any means the letter of a wicked man turning away from
+his wickedness. Not a word of repentance from beginning to end.
+
+'Four years ago,' Mr. Dering read, 'you drove me from your place and
+changed my whole life, by a suspicion--amounting to a charge--of the
+gravest kind. You assumed, without explanation or examination, that
+because certain facts seemed to point in a certain direction, I had been
+guilty of an enormous crime, that I had robbed my father's oldest
+friend, my mother's Trustee, my own guardian, my employer, of a great
+sum of money. You never asked yourself if this suspicion was justified
+by any conduct of mine--you jumped at it.'
+
+'Quite wrong. Wilfully wrong,' said Mr. Dering. 'I laid the facts before
+him. Nothing but the facts. I brought no charge.'
+
+'I daresay that by this time the criminal has been long since detected.
+Had I remained, I would have brought the thing home to him. For of
+course it could be none other than your clerk. I have thought over the
+case thousands of times. The man who forged the cheque must have been
+one of two--either your clerk--the man Checkley--or myself. It did not
+take you long, I apprehend, to learn the truth. You would discover it
+through the presentation of the notes.'--'This is a very crafty letter,'
+said Mr. Dering; 'when he never presented any of the notes. Very
+crafty.' He resumed the letter--'Enough said about that. I daresay,
+however, that I shall some day or other--before you are dead, I
+hope--return in order to receive some expression of sorrow from you if
+you can feel shame.'--'Certainly not,' said Mr. Dering with
+decision.--'Meantime, there is a service which I must ask of you for
+the sake of my people. There is no one else whom I can ask. It is the
+reason of my writing this letter.
+
+'I came away with ten pounds--all I had in the world--in my pocket. Not
+seven hundred and twenty pounds, as you imagined or suspected. Ten
+pounds. With that slender capital I got across the Atlantic. I have now
+made twelve thousand pounds. I made it in a very short time by
+extraordinary good luck.' Mr. Dering laid down the letter and
+considered. Twelve thousand pounds might be made--perhaps--by great good
+luck--with a start of seven hundred and twenty, but hardly with ten
+pounds. A silver reef--or more likely a gambling table, or a second
+crime, or a series of crimes. It will be observed that his opinion of
+the young man was now very bad indeed: otherwise, he would have
+reflected that as none of those notes had been presented, none of them
+had been used. Even if an English ten-pound note is converted into
+American dollars, the note comes home before ten years. 'Extraordinary
+good luck.' He read the words again, and shook his head. 'Now, I want
+you to take charge of this money, to say nothing at all about it, to
+keep the matter a profound secret, to invest it or put it in some place
+of safety, where confidential clerks with a taste for forgery cannot get
+at it, and to give it, on her twenty-first birthday, to my sister Elsie.
+Do not tell her or anybody from whom the money comes. Do not tell
+anybody that you have heard from me. When I came away, she was the only
+one of all my friends and people who declared that she believed in me. I
+now strip myself of my whole possessions in order to show this mark of
+my love and gratitude towards her. In sending you this money I go back
+to the ten pounds with which I started.'
+
+Mr. Dering laid the letter down. The words, somehow, seemed to ring
+true. Could the boy--after all----? He shook his head, and went on. 'You
+will give Elsie this money on her twenty-first birthday, to be settled
+on her for herself.'
+
+  'ATHELSTAN ARUNDEL.'
+
+The letter was dated, but no address was given. The post-mark was Idaho,
+which, as we all know, belongs to a Western State.
+
+He looked into the envelope. There fell out a paper, which was a draft
+on a well-known London Firm, payable to his order for twelve thousand
+and fifty pounds.
+
+'This is very unbusiness-like,' said Mr. Dering. 'He puts all this money
+into my hands, and vanishes. These are the ways he learns in America, I
+suppose. Puts the money blindly in my hands without giving me the means
+of communicating with him. Then he vanishes. How could he prove that it
+was a Trust? Well, if I could only think--but I cannot--the
+circumstantial evidence is too strong--that the boy was innocent--I
+should be very sorry for him. As for Elsie--she must be eighteen
+now--about eighteen--she will get this windfall in three years or so. It
+will be a wonderful lift for her. Perhaps it may make all the difference
+in her future! If I could only think that the boy was innocent--a clever
+lad, too--which makes his guilt more probable. But I can't--no--I can't.
+Either Checkley or that boy--and Checkley couldn't do it. He couldn't if
+he were to try. What did the boy do it for? And what did he do with the
+notes?'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+UP THE RIVER
+
+
+'Can you not be content, George?' asked the girl sitting in the stern.
+'I think that I want nothing more than this. If we could only go on
+always, and always, and always, just like this.' She had taken off her
+right-hand glove, and she was dipping her fingers into the cool waters
+of the river as the boat slowly drifted down stream. 'Always like this,'
+she repeated softly. 'With you close to me--so that I could touch you if
+I wanted to--so that I could feel safe, you know--the sun behind us,
+warm and splendid, such a sweet and fragrant air about us, trees and
+gardens and fields and lanes on either side--and both of us always
+young, George, and--and nice to look at, and all the world before us.'
+
+She, for one, was not only young and nice to look upon, but fair--very
+fair to look upon. Even young persons of her own sex, critics and
+specialists in the Art and Science of Beauty--rivals as well--had to
+confess that Elsie was rather pretty. I believe that few such critics
+ever go farther. She was, to begin with, of sufficient stature, in a
+time when dumpy women are not considered, and when height is a first
+necessity of comeliness: she paid, next, such obedience to the laws of
+figure as becomes the age of twenty, and is, with stature, rigorously
+demanded at this end of the century. Her chief points, perhaps, lay in
+her eyes, which were of a darker shade of blue than is common. They were
+soft, yet not languid; they were full of light; they were large, and yet
+they could be quick. Her face was subject to sudden changes that made it
+like a spring-time sky of shower, rainbow, sunshine, and surprise. Her
+hair was of a very common brown, neither dark nor light. She was
+attired, this evening, in a simple gray frock of nun's cloth with a
+bunch of white roses on her left shoulder.
+
+When one says that her companion was a young man, nearly all is said,
+because the young men of the present day are surprisingly alike.
+Thousands of young men can be found like George Austin: they are all
+excellent fellows, of much higher principles, on some subjects, than
+their fathers before them; not remarkably intellectual, to judge by
+their school record: yet with intelligence and application enough to get
+through their examinations moderately: for the most part they do pass
+them with moderate success: they are not ambitious of obtaining any of
+the great prizes--which, indeed, they know to be out of their reach--but
+they always set before themselves and keep always well in sight the
+ideal suburban villa and the wife: they always work steadily, if not
+feverishly, with the view of securing these two blessings; they always
+hope to secure an income that will enable them to maintain that
+wife--with a possible following of babies--in silk attire (for Sundays);
+in ease as to household allowance; and in such freedom of general
+expenditure as may enable her to stand up among her neighbours in church
+without a blush.
+
+The world is quite full of such men: they form the rank and file, the
+legionaries: their opinion on the subject of labour is purely
+Scriptural--namely, that it is a curse: they do not particularly love
+any kind of work: they would prefer, if they had the choice, to do
+nothing at all: when they get their summer holiday they do nothing all
+day long, with zeal: they give no more thought to their work than is
+sufficient for the bread-winning: whether they are professional men or
+trading men their view of professional work is solely that it brings in
+the money. If such a young man becomes a clerk, he never tries to learn
+any more after he has left school: he accepts the position: a clerk and
+a servant he is, a clerk and a servant he will remain. If he is engaged
+in trade he gives just so much attention to his business as will keep
+his connection together: that and no more: others may soar: others may
+become Universal Providers: for his part he is contented with his shop
+and his Sunday feast. If he becomes a professional man he learns no more
+of his science than is wanted every day. The lawyer passes his exam, and
+puts away his law-books; he knows enough for professional purposes: the
+doctor reads no more; he knows enough for the ordinary needs of the
+G. P.: the schoolmaster lays aside his books; scholarship and science
+interest him no longer; he has learned enough to teach his boys: the
+curate makes no farther research into the history and foundations of his
+church; he has learned enough. In a word, the average young man is
+without ambition; he is inclined to be lazy; he loves the present far
+more than the future--indeed, all his elders unite in letting him know
+that his own is quite the most enviable time of life; he likes to enjoy
+whatever he can afford, so that he very often eats up all his wages: he
+does not read too much; he does not think too much: he does not vex his
+soul too much with the problems of life--greater problems or lesser
+problems--he accepts the teaching of his newspaper, and agrees with the
+words and the wisdom of yesterday's leading article: he accepts
+religion, politics, morals, social systems, constitutions, things
+present, past, and future, as if--which is perfectly true--he had
+nothing to do with them, and could not help it whatever was to happen.
+He never wants to alter anything; he believes that all British
+institutions are built on the solid rock and fashioned out of the
+hardest granite: any exceptions to this rule, he thinks, have come
+straight down from Heaven.
+
+Observe, if you please, that this kind of young man confers the greatest
+possible benefits upon the country. He ought to be made a Baronet at
+least, if honours meant anything. His apparent sluggishness keeps us
+from the constant changes which trouble some nations: his apparent lack
+of ambition makes it easy for the restless spirits to rise: were the
+country full of aspiring young men we should be for ever having civil
+wars, revolutions, social upsydowns, new experiments, new religions, new
+governments, new divisions of property, every year. Again, it is this
+young man who by his steady attention to business, his readiness to work
+as much as is wanted, but no more; his disregard of theories and
+speculations, his tenacity; his honesty, his loyalty, his courage, and
+his stout heart, has built up the British name so that there has never
+been any name like unto it, nor ever will be again, for these solid and
+substantial virtues.
+
+Being, then, just a young man of the time, George Austin was naturally
+like most young men in dress, in appearance, in language, and in
+manners. And had it not been for the strange experience which he was to
+undergo, he would have remained to this day just like other young men.
+He was better looking than most, having a good figure, a well-shaped
+head, and regular features, with eyes rather fuller of possibilities
+than falls to the lot of most young men. In short, a good-looking
+fellow, showing a capability for something or other in his firm mouth,
+ample cheek, strong chin, and resolute carriage. He would have made a
+fine soldier; but perhaps an unsuccessful general, for want of that
+quality which in poets is called genius. In the same way he would in a
+lower walk keep a business together, but would fail to achieve a great
+fortune for lack of the same quality. As for his age, he was
+seven-and-twenty.
+
+'Always like this,' the girl went on. 'Always floating down the stream
+under a summer sky. Always sweet looks and love and youth. It seems as
+if we could never be unhappy, never be worried, never want anything, on
+such an evening as this.' She turned and looked up the stream, on which
+lay the glory of the sinking sun--she sighed. 'It is good to come out on
+such an evening only to have a brief dream of what might be. When will
+the world give up their foolish quarrels, and join together to make the
+lives of all happy?'
+
+They had been talking, among other things, of socialism, all out of
+yesterday's leading article.
+
+'When,' George replied, 'there is enough of good things to go round:
+when we invent a way to make all men ready to do their share as well as
+to devour it: when we find out how to make everybody contented with his
+share.'
+
+Elsie shook her head, which was filled with vague ideas--the ideas of a
+restless and a doubting time. Then she went back to her original
+proposition. 'Always like this, George--and never to get tired of it.
+Time to stand still--nothing to change: never to get tired of it: never
+to want anything else. That is Heaven, I suppose.'
+
+'We are on earth, Elsie,' said her lover. 'And on earth Everything
+changes. If we were to go on drifting down the stream, we should get
+into trouble over the weir. To capsize would be a pretty interruption to
+your Heaven, wouldn't it! And the sun will soon be setting and the river
+will get misty; and the banks will grow ugly. But the chief thing is
+that we shall both grow old. And there is such a lot that we have got to
+do before we grow old.'
+
+'Everything has to be done,' said Elsie. 'I suppose we have done nothing
+yet.'
+
+'We have got to get married for the first thing, before we grow old.'
+
+'Couldn't you love an old woman, George?'
+
+'Not so well, Elsie,' her lover replied, truthfully. 'At least, I think
+not.--And oh! Elsie, whenever I do think of the future, my heart goes
+down into my boots. For the prospect grows darker and darker.'
+
+Elsie sighed. She knew, already, too well, what was in his mind. Plenty
+of girls, in these days, know the familiar tale.
+
+'Darker every day,' he repeated. 'They keep on crowding into the
+profession by multitudes, as if there was room for any number. They
+don't understand that what with the decay of the landed interest and of
+the country towns, and the cutting down of the costs, and the work that
+goes to accountants, there isn't half the business to do that there was.
+There don't seem any partnerships to be had for love or money, because
+the few people who have got a good thing have got no more than enough
+for themselves. It is no use for the young fellows to start by
+themselves; so they have got to take whatever they can get, and they are
+glad to get even a hundred a year to begin with--and I am
+seven-and-twenty, Elsie, and I'm drawing two hundred pounds a year.'
+
+'Patience, George! something will turn up. You will find a partnership
+somewhere.'
+
+'My child, you might as well tell Robinson Crusoe that a boiled leg of
+mutton with caper sauce was going to turn up on his desert island. We
+must not hope for the impossible. I ought to be grateful, I suppose,
+considering what other men are doing. I am planted in a good solid
+House. It won't run away, so long as the old man lives.'
+
+'And after that?'
+
+'Well, Mr. Dering is seventy-five. But he will not die yet, not for a
+long time to come. He is made of granite: he is never ill: he never
+takes a holiday: he works harder than any of his people; and he keeps
+longer hours. To be sure, if he were to die without taking a
+partner--well--in that case, there would be an end of everything, I
+suppose.--Elsie, here's the position.' She knew it already, too
+well--but it pleased them both to parade the facts as if they were
+something quite novel. 'Let us face it'--they were always facing it. 'I
+am Managing Clerk to Dering & Son--I get two hundred pounds a year--I
+have no prospect of anything better. I am bound all my life to be a
+servant. Elsie, it is not a brilliant prospect: I found out at school
+that it was best not to be too ambitious. But--a servant all my life--I
+confess that did not enter into my head. If I knew any other trade, I
+would cut the whole business. If there was any mortal thing in the whole
+world by which I could keep myself, I would try it. But there's nothing.
+I have but one trade. I can't write novels, or leading articles; I can't
+play on any instrument; I can't paint or act or sing or anything--I am
+only a solicitor--that's all. Only a solicitor who can't get on--a
+clerk, Elsie. No wonder her ladyship turns up her nose--a clerk.' He
+leaned his chin upon his hands and laughed the conventional laugh of the
+young man down on his luck.
+
+'Poor George!' she sighed. In such a case there are only two words of
+consolation. One may say 'Poor George!' or one may say 'Patience!' There
+is nothing else to say. Elsie first tried one method and then the other,
+as a doctor tries first one remedy and then another when Nature sulks
+and refuses to get well.
+
+'And,' he went on, piling up the misery, 'I am in love with the sweetest
+girl in the whole world--and she is in love with me!'
+
+'Poor George!' she repeated with a smile. 'That is indeed a dreadful
+misfortune.'
+
+'I am wasting your youth, Elsie, as well as my own.'
+
+'If it is wasted for your sake, George, it is well spent. Some day,
+perhaps----'
+
+'No--no--not some day--immediately--at once.' The young man changed
+colour and his eyes sparkled. It was not the first time that he had
+advanced this revolutionary proposal. 'Let prudence go to the----'
+
+'Not there, George--oh! not there. To the winds, perhaps, or to that
+famous city of Palestine. But not there. Why, we might never get her
+back again--poor Prudence! And we shall be sure to want her all our
+lives--very badly. We will, if you please, ask her to go for a short
+voyage for the benefit of her health. We will give her six months' leave
+of absence: but we shall want her services again after her holiday--if
+you think we can do without her for so long.'
+
+'For a whole twelvemonth, Elsie. Let us brave everything, get married at
+once, live in a garret, and have a splendid time--for a whole
+twelvemonth--on my two hundred pounds.'
+
+'And am I to give up my painting?'
+
+'Well, dear, you know you have not yet had a commission from anybody.'
+
+'How can you say so, George? I have painted you--and my sister--and my
+mother--and your sisters. I am sure that no studio even of an R.A. could
+make a braver show of work. Well--I will give it up--until Prudence
+returns. Is it to be a garret? A real garret, with sloping walls, where
+you can only stand upright in the middle?'
+
+'We call it a garret. It will take the form, I suppose, of a tiny house
+in a cheap quarter. It will have six rooms, a garden in front and a
+garden behind. The rent will be thirty pounds. For a whole twelvemonth
+it will be a real slice of Eden, Elsie, and you shall be Eve.'
+
+Elsie laughed. 'It will be great fun. We will make the Eden last longer
+than a twelvemonth. I daresay I shall like it. Of course I shall have to
+do everything for myself. To clean the doorstep will be equivalent to
+taking exercise in the fresh air: to sweep the floors will be a kind of
+afternoon dance or a game of lawn-tennis: to wash up the cups and
+saucers will be only a change of amusement.--There is one thing,
+George--one thing'--she became very serious--'I suppose you never--did
+you ever witness the scouring of a frying-pan? I don't think I _could_
+do that. And did you ever see beef-steaks before they are cooked? They
+suggest the animal in the most terrible way. I don't really think I
+could handle those bleeding lumps.'
+
+'You shan't touch a frying-pan, and we will have nothing roasted or
+fried. We will live on cold Australian beef eaten out of its native tin:
+the potatoes shall be boiled in their skins. And perhaps--I don't
+know--with two hundred pounds a year we could afford a servant--a very
+little one--just a girl warranted not to eat too much.'
+
+'What shall we do when our clothes are worn out?'
+
+'The little maid will make some more for you, I suppose. We certainly
+shall not be able to buy new things--not nice things, that is--and you
+must have nice things, mustn't you?'
+
+'I do like things to be nice,' she replied, smoothing her dainty skirts
+with her dainty hand. 'George, where shall we find this house--formerly
+Eve's own country villa before she--resigned her tenancy, you know?'
+
+'There are places in London where whole streets are filled with families
+living on a hundred and fifty pounds a year. Checkley--the chief's
+private clerk--lives in such a place: he told me so himself. He says
+there is nobody in his parish who has got a bigger income than himself:
+he's a little king among them because he gets four hundred pounds a
+year, besides what he has saved--which is enormous piles. Elsie, my
+dear, we must give up our present surroundings, and take up with
+gentility in its cheapest form.'
+
+'Can we not go on living among our own friends?'
+
+George shook his head wisely. 'Impossible. Friendship means equality of
+income. You can't live with people unless you do as they do. People of
+the same means naturally live together. Next door to Lady Dering is
+another rich Madam, not a clerk's wife. For my own part I shall sell my
+dress clothes for what they will fetch--you can exchange your evening
+things for morning things. That won't matter much. Who cares where we
+live, or how we live, so that we live together? What do you say, Elsie
+dear?'
+
+'The garret I don't mind--nor the door-steps--and since you see your way
+out of the difficulty of the frying-pan----'
+
+'You will be of age next week, when you can please yourself.'
+
+'Hilda gives me no peace nor rest. She says that there can be no
+happiness without money. She has persuaded my mother that I am going to
+certain starvation. She promises the most splendid establishment if I
+will only be guided by her.'
+
+'And marry a man fifty years older than yourself with one foot already
+well in----'
+
+'She says she has always been perfectly happy.--Well, George, you know
+all that. Next Wednesday, which is my birthday, I am to have a grand
+talk with my guardian. My mother hopes that he will bring me to my
+senses. Hilda says that she trusts entirely to Mr. Dering's good sense.
+I shall arm myself with all my obstinacy. Perhaps, George--who knows?--I
+may persuade him to advance your salary.'
+
+'No, Elsie. Not even you would persuade Mr. Dering to give a managing
+clerk more than two hundred pounds a year. But arm yourself with all you
+have got--don't forget any piece of that armour, child. The
+breastplate--there was a poor damsel once who forgot that and was caught
+by an appeal to her heart--nor the helmet--another poor damsel was once
+caught by an appeal to her reason after forgetting the helmet. The
+shield, of course, you will not forget--and for weapons, my dear, take
+your sweet eyes and your lovely face and your winning voice--and I
+swear that you will subdue even Mr. Dering himself--that hardened old
+parchment.'
+
+This was the kind of talk which these lovers held together whenever they
+met. George was poor--the son of a clergyman, whose power of advancing
+him ceased when he had paid the fees for admission. He was only a clerk,
+and he saw no chance of being anything else but a clerk. Elsie could
+bring nothing to the family nest, unless her mother made her an
+allowance. Of this there could be no hope. The engagement was considered
+deplorable: marriage, under the circumstances, simple madness. And Hilda
+had done so well for herself, and could do so much for a sister so
+pretty, so bright as Elsie! Oh! she was throwing away all her chances.
+Did one ever hear of anything so lamentable? No regard for the family:
+no ambition: no sense of what a girl owes to herself: no recognition nor
+gratitude for the gift of good looks--as if beauty was given for the
+mere purpose of pleasing a penniless lover! And to go and throw herself
+away upon a twopenny lawyer's clerk!
+
+'George,' she said seriously, 'I have thought it all out. If you really
+mean it--if you really can face poverty--mind--it is harder--much--for a
+man than a woman----'
+
+'I can face everything--with you, Elsie,' replied the lover. Would he
+have been a lover worth having if he had not made that answer? And,
+indeed, he meant it, as every lover should.
+
+'Then--George--what in the whole world is there for me unless I can make
+my dear boy happy? I will marry you as soon as you please, rich or poor,
+for better for worse--whatever they may say at home.--Will that do for
+you, George?'
+
+Since man is so constituted that his happiness wholly depends upon the
+devotion of a woman, I believe that no dear boy ever had a better chance
+of happiness than George Austin--only a managing clerk--with his Elsie.
+And so this history begins where many end, with an engagement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+IN THE OFFICE
+
+
+'I'll take in your ladyship's name. There is no one with him at this
+moment.--Oh yes, my lady,' Checkley smiled superior. 'We are always
+busy. We have been busy in this office for fifty years and more.--But I
+am sure he'll see you. Take a chair, my lady. Allow me.'
+
+Checkley, the old clerk, had other and younger clerks with him; but he
+kept in his own hands the duty, or the privilege, of going to the
+private room of the chief. He was sixty-seven when last we saw him.
+Therefore, he was now seventy-five; a little more bent in the shoulders,
+a little more feeble; otherwise unaltered. In age we either shrivel or
+we swell. Those live the longest who shrivel; and those who shrivel
+presently reach a point when they cease to shrink any more till they
+reach the ninetieth year. Checkley was bowed and bent and lean: his face
+was lined multitudinously: his cheeks were shrunken: but not more so
+than eight years before. He wrote down the name of the caller--Lady
+Dering--on a square piece of paper, and opened the door with an
+affectation of extreme care not to disturb the chief's nerves by a sharp
+turn of the handle, stepped in as if it was most important that no one
+should be able to peep into the room, and closed the door softly behind
+him. Immediately he reappeared, and held the door wide open, inviting
+the lady to step in. She was young; of good stature and figure,
+extremely handsome in face; of what is called the classical type, and
+very richly dressed. Her carriage might have been seen, on looking out
+of the window, waiting in the square.
+
+'Lady Dering, sir,' said Checkley. Then he swiftly vanished, closing the
+door softly behind him.
+
+'I am glad to see you, Hilda.' The old lawyer rose, tall and commanding,
+and bowed, offering his hand with a stately and old-fashioned courtesy
+which made ladies condone his unmarried condition. 'Why have you called
+this morning? You are not come on any business, I trust. Business with
+ladies who have wealthy husbands generally means trouble of some kind.
+You are not, for instance, in debt with your dressmaker?'
+
+'No--no. Sir Samuel does not allow of any difficulties or awkwardness of
+that kind. It is not about myself that I am here, but about my sister,
+Elsie.'
+
+'Yes? What about her? Sit down, and let me hear.'
+
+'Well, you know Elsie has always been a trouble to us on account of her
+headstrong and wilful ways. She will not look on things from a
+reasonable point of view. You know that my mother is not rich, as I have
+learnt to consider rich, though of course she has enough for a simple
+life and a man-servant and a one-horse brougham. Do you know,' she added
+pensively, 'I have often found it difficult not to repine at a
+Providence which removes a father when he was beginning so well, and
+actually on the high-road to a great fortune.'
+
+'It is certainly difficult to understand the wisdom of these
+disappointments and disasters. We must accept, Hilda, what we cannot
+escape or explain.'
+
+'Yes--and my mother had nothing but a poor thousand a year!--though I am
+sure that she has greatly bettered her circumstances by her transactions
+in the City. Well--I have done all I can, by precept and by example, to
+turn my sister's mind into the right direction. Mr. Dering'--by long
+habit Hilda still called her guardian, now her brother-in-law, by his
+surname--'you would hardly believe the folly that Elsie talks about
+money.'
+
+'Perhaps because she has none. Those who have no property do not
+understand it. Young people do not know what it means or what it
+commands. And whether they have it or not, young people do not know what
+the acquisition of property means--the industry, the watchfulness, the
+carefulness, the self-denial. So Elsie talks folly about money--well,
+well'--he smiled indulgently--'we shall see.'
+
+'It is not only that she talks, but she acts. Mr. Dering, we are in
+despair about her. You know the Rodings?'
+
+'Roding Brothers? Everybody knows Roding Brothers.'
+
+'Algy Roding, the eldest son of the senior partner--enormously rich--is
+gone--quite gone--foolish about Elsie. He has been at me a dozen times
+about her. He has called at the house to see her. He cares nothing at
+all about her having no money. She refuses even to hear his name
+mentioned. Between ourselves, he has not been, I believe, a very steady
+young man; but of course he would settle down; we could entirely trust
+to a wife's influence in that respect: the past could easily be
+forgotten--in fact, Elsie need never know it: and the position would be
+splendid. Even mine would not compare with it.'
+
+'Why does she object to the man?'
+
+'Says he is an ugly little snob. There is a becoming spirit for a girl
+to receive so rich a lover! But that is not all. She might have him if
+she chose, snob or not, but she prefers one of your clerks--actually,
+Mr. Dering, one of your clerks.'
+
+'I have learned something of this from your mother. She is engaged, I am
+told, to young Austin, one of my managing clerks.'
+
+'Whose income is two hundred pounds a year. Oh! think of it! She refuses
+a man with ten thousand a year at the very least, and wants to marry a
+man with two hundred.'
+
+'I suppose they do not propose to marry on this--this pittance--this two
+hundred a year?'
+
+'They are engaged: she refuses to break it off: he has no money to buy a
+partnership: he must therefore continue a clerk on two hundred.'
+
+'Managing clerks get more, sometimes; but, to be sure, the position is
+not good, and the income must always be small.'
+
+'My mother will not allow the man in the house: Elsie goes out to meet
+him: oh, it is most irregular. I should be ashamed for Sir Samuel to
+know it. She actually goes out of the house every evening, and they walk
+about the square garden or in the Park till dark. It is exactly like a
+housemaid going out to meet her young man.'
+
+'It does seem an unusual course; but I am no judge of what is becoming
+to a young lady.'
+
+'Well--she needn't go on like a housemaid,' said her sister. 'Of course
+the position of things at home is strained, and I don't know what may
+happen at any moment. Elsie says that she shall be twenty-one next week,
+and that she means to act on her own judgment. She even talks of setting
+up a studio somewhere and painting portraits for money. That is a
+pleasant thing for me to contemplate. My own sister earning her own
+living by painting!'
+
+'How do you think I can interfere in the matter? Lovers' quarrels or
+lovers' difficulties are not made or settled in this room.'
+
+'Mr. Dering, there is no one in the world of whom she is afraid, except
+yourself. There is no one of whose opinion she thinks so much. Will you
+see her? Will you talk with her? Will you admonish her?'
+
+'Why, Hilda, it so happens that I have already invited her to call upon
+me on her birthday, when she ceases to be my ward. I will talk to her
+if you please. Perhaps you may be satisfied with the result of my
+conversation.'
+
+'I shall--I am sure I shall.'
+
+'Let me understand. You desire that your sister shall marry a man who,
+if he is not already rich, should be at least on the high road to
+wealth. You cannot force her to accept even the richest young man in
+London unless she likes him, can you?'
+
+'No. Certainly not. And we can hardly expect her to marry, as I did
+myself, a man whose wealth is already established. Unless she would take
+Algy Roding.'
+
+'Very good. But he must have a certain income, so as to ensure the means
+of an establishment conducted at a certain level.'
+
+'Yes. She need not live in Palace Gardens, but she ought to be able to
+live--say in Pembridge Square.'
+
+'Quite so. I suppose, with an income of fifteen hundred or so to begin
+with. If I make her understand so much, you will be satisfied?'
+
+'Perfectly.--My dear Mr. Dering, I really believe you have got the very
+young man up your sleeve. But how will you persuade her to give up the
+present intruder?'
+
+'I promise nothing, Hilda--I promise nothing. I will do my best,
+however.'
+
+Hilda rose and swept back her dress.
+
+'I feel an immense sense of relief,' she said. 'The dear child's
+happiness is all I desire. Perhaps if you were to dismiss the young man
+immediately, with ignominy, and were to refuse him a written character
+on the ground of trying to win the affections of a girl infinitely above
+him in station, it might produce a good effect on Elsie--showing what
+you think of it--as well as an excellent lesson for himself and his
+friends. There is no romance about a cast-off clerk. Will you think of
+this, Mr. Dering? The mere threat of such a thing might make him ready
+to give her up; and it might make her inclined for his own sake to send
+him about his business.'
+
+'I will think of it, Hilda.--By the way, will you and my brother dine
+with me on Monday, unless you are engaged? We can talk over this little
+affair then at leisure.'
+
+'With pleasure. We are only engaged for the evening. Now I won't keep
+you any longer.--Good-bye.'
+
+She walked away, smiling graciously on the clerks in the outer office,
+and descended the stairs to the carriage, which waited below.
+
+Mr. Dering returned to his papers. He was not changed in the eight years
+since the stormy interview with this young lady's brother: his small
+whiskers were a little whiter: his iron-gray hair was unchanged; his
+lips were as firm and his nostrils as sharp, his eyes as keen as then.
+
+The room looked out pleasantly upon the garden of New Square, where the
+sunshine lay warm upon the trees with their early summer leaves.
+Sunshine or rain, all the year round, the solicitor sat in his
+high-backed chair before his great table. He sat there this morning
+working steadily until he had got through what he was about. Then he
+looked at his watch. It was past two o'clock. He touched a bell on the
+table, and his old clerk came in.
+
+Though he was the same age as his master, Checkley looked a great deal
+older. He was bald, save for a small white patch over each ear; he was
+bent, and his hands trembled. His expression was sharp, foxy, and
+suspicious. He stood in the unmistakable attitude of a servant, hands
+hanging in readiness, head a little bent.
+
+'The clerks are all gone, I suppose?' said Mr. Dering.
+
+'All gone. All they think about when they come in the morning is how
+soon they will get away. As for any pride in their work, they haven't
+got it.'
+
+'Let them go.--Checkley, I have wanted to speak to you for some time.'
+
+'Anything the matter?' The old clerk spoke with the familiarity of long
+service which permits the expression of opinions.
+
+'The time has come, Checkley, when we must make a change.'
+
+'A change? Why--I do my work as well as ever I did--better than any of
+the younger men. A change?'
+
+'The change will not affect you.'
+
+'It must be for you then. Surely you're never going to retire!'
+
+'No--I mean to hold on as long as I can. That will only be for a year or
+two at most. I am seventy-five, Checkley.'
+
+'What of that? So am I. You don't find me grumbling about my work, do
+you? Besides, you eat hearty. Your health is good.'
+
+'Yes, my health is good. But I am troubled of late, Checkley--I am
+troubled about my memory.'
+
+'So is many a younger man,' returned the clerk stoutly.
+
+'Sometimes I cannot remember in the morning what I was doing the evening
+before.'
+
+'That's nothing. Nothing at all.'
+
+'Yesterday, I looked at my watch, and found that I had been unconscious
+for three hours.'
+
+'You were asleep. I came in and saw you sound asleep.' It was not true,
+but the clerk's intentions were good.
+
+'To go asleep in the morning argues a certain decay of strength. Yet I
+believe that I get through the work as well as ever. The clients do not
+drop off, Checkley. There are no signs of mistrust--eh? No suspicion of
+failing powers?'
+
+'They think more of you than ever.'
+
+'I believe they do, Checkley.'
+
+'Everybody says you are the top of the profession.'
+
+'I believe I am, Checkley--I believe I am. Certainly, I am the oldest.
+Nevertheless, seventy-five is a great age to be continuing work. Things
+can't last much longer.'
+
+'Some men go on to eighty, and even ninety.'
+
+'A few--a few only.' The lawyer sighed. 'One may hope, but must not
+build upon the chance of such merciful prolongation. The older I grow,
+Checkley, the more I enjoy life, especially the only thing that has ever
+made life happy for me--this work. I cling to it'--he spread his hands
+over the papers--'I cling to it. I cannot bear to think of leaving it.'
+
+'That--and your savings,' echoed the clerk.
+
+'It seems as if I should be content to go on for a hundred years more at
+the work of which I am never tired. And I must leave it before long--in
+a year--two years--who knows? Life is miserably short--one has no time
+for half the things one would like to do. Well'--he heaved a deep
+sigh--'let us work while we can. However, it is better to climb down
+than to be pulled down or shot down. I am going to make preparations,
+Checkley, for the end.'
+
+'What preparations? You're not going to send for a minister, are you?'
+
+'No. Not that kind of preparation. Nor for the doctor either. Nor for a
+lawyer to make my will. All those things are duly attended to. I have
+resolved, Checkley, upon taking a partner.'
+
+'You? Take a partner? You? At your time of life?'
+
+'I am going to take a partner. And you are the first person who has been
+told of my intention. Keep it a secret for the moment.'
+
+'Take a partner? Divide your beautiful income by two?'
+
+'Yes, Checkley. I am going to give a share in that beautiful income to a
+young man.'
+
+'What can a partner do for you that I can't do? Don't I know the whole
+of the office work? Is there any partner in the world who can draw up a
+conveyance better than me?'
+
+'You are very useful, Checkley, as you always have been. But you are not
+a partner, and you never can be.'
+
+'I know that very well. But what's the good of a partner at all?'
+
+'If I have a partner, he will have his own room, and he won't interfere
+with you. There's no occasion for you to be jealous.'
+
+'As for jealous--well--after more than sixty years' work in this office,
+it would seem hard to be turned out by some new-comer. But what I say
+is--what is the good of a partner?'
+
+'The chief good is that the House will be carried on. It is a hundred
+and twenty years old. I confess I do not like the thought of its coming
+to an end when I disappear. That will be to me the most important
+advantage to be gained by taking a partner. The next advantage will be
+that I can turn over to him a quantity of work. And thirdly, he will
+bring young blood and new connections. My mind is quite made up,
+Checkley. I am going to take a partner.'
+
+'Have you found one yet?'
+
+'I have. But I am not going to tell you who he is till the right time
+comes.'
+
+Checkley grumbled inaudibly.
+
+'If I had been less busy,' Mr. Dering went on, 'I might have married and
+had sons of my own to put into the House. But somehow, being very much
+occupied always, and never thinking about such things, I let the time
+pass by. I was never, even as a young man, greatly attracted to love or
+to young women. Their charms, such as they are, seem to me to depend
+upon nothing but a single garment.'
+
+'Take away their frocks,' said Checkley, 'and what are they? All
+alike--all alike. I've been married myself--women are expensive frauds.'
+
+'Well--things being as they are, Checkley, I am going to take a
+partner.'
+
+'You'll do as you like,' said his servant. 'Mark my words, however;
+you've got ten years more of work in you yet--and all through these ten
+years you'll regret having a partner. Out of every hundred pounds his
+share will have to come. Think of that!'
+
+'It is eight years, I remember,' Mr. Dering went on, 'since first I
+thought of taking a partner. Eight years--and for much the same reason
+as now. I found my memory going. There were gaps in it--days, or bits of
+days, which I could not recollect. I was greatly terrified. The man whom
+I first thought of for a partner was that young Arundel, now----'
+
+'Who forged your name. Lucky you didn't have him.'
+
+'Who ran away in a rage because certain circumstances seemed to connect
+him with the crime.'
+
+'Seemed? Did connect him.'
+
+'Then the symptoms disappeared. Now they have returned, as I told you. I
+have always regretted the loss of young Arundel. He was clever and a
+quick worker.'
+
+'He was a forger,' said the clerk stoutly.--'Is there anything more I
+can do for you?'
+
+'Nothing; thank you.'
+
+'Then I'll go. On Saturday afternoon I collect my little rents. Not
+much--in your way of thinking. A good deal to me. I hope you'll like
+your partner when you do get him. I hope I shan't live to see him the
+master here and you knuckling under. I hope I shan't see him driving
+away the clients.'
+
+'I hope you will not see any of these distressing consequences,
+Checkley.--Good-day.'
+
+The old clerk went away, shutting the outer door after him. Then the
+lawyer was the sole occupant of the rooms. He was also the sole occupant
+of the whole house and perhaps of the whole Square. It was three
+o'clock.
+
+He sat leaning back in his chair, looking through the open window upon
+the trees in the Square garden. Presently there fell upon his face a
+curious change. It was as if the whole of the intelligence was taken out
+of it: his eyes gazed steadily into space with no expression whatever in
+them; the lips slightly parted, his head fell back; the soul and spirit
+of the man had gone out of him, leaving a machine which breathed.
+
+The watch in his pocket ticked audibly: there was no other sound in the
+room--the old man sat quite motionless.
+
+Four o'clock struck from the Clock Tower in the High Court of Justice,
+from St. Clement's Church, from Westminster, from half-a-dozen clocks
+which could be heard in the quiet of the Saturday afternoon. But Mr.
+Dering heard nothing.
+
+Still he sat in his place with idle hands, and a face like a mask for
+lack of thought.
+
+The clocks struck five.
+
+He neither moved nor spoke.
+
+The clocks struck six--seven--eight.
+
+The shades of evening began to gather in the corners of the room as the
+sun sank lower towards his setting. At twilight in the summer there is
+never anybody to fear--man, woman, or cat--in the chambers, and at that
+hour the mice come out. They do not eat parchment or foolscap or red
+tape, but they eat the luncheon crumbs. Mr. Checkley, for instance,
+always brought his dinner in a paper parcel in his coat-tail pocket, and
+ate it when so disposed, sprinkling crumbs lavishly--the only lavishment
+of which he was ever guilty--on the floor. Junior clerks brought buns
+and biscuits, or even apples, which they devoured furtively. Mr. Dering
+himself took his luncheon in his own room, leaving crumbs. There was
+plenty for a small colony of mice. They came out, therefore, as usual;
+they stopped at sight of a man, an unwonted man, in a chair. But he
+moved not: he was asleep: he was dead: they ran without fear all about
+the rooms.
+
+It was past nine, when the chambers were as dark as at this season of
+the year they ever are, that Mr. Dering returned to consciousness.
+
+He sat up, staring about him. The room was dark. He looked at his watch.
+Half-past nine. 'What is this?' he asked. 'Have I been asleep for seven
+hours? Seven hours? I was not asleep when Checkley went away. Why did I
+fall asleep? I feel as if I had been somewhere--doing something. What? I
+cannot remember. This strange sensation comes oftener. It is time that I
+should take a partner before something worse happens. I am old--I am
+old.' He rose and walked across the room erect and with firm step. 'I am
+old and worn out and spent. Time to give up the keys--old and spent.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE SELECT CIRCLE
+
+
+At half-past nine on this Saturday evening, the parlour of the
+_Salutation Inn_, High Holborn, contained most of its customary
+visitors. They came every evening at eight: and they sat till eleven,
+drinking and talking. In former days every tavern of repute kept such a
+room for its own select circle, a club, or society, of _habitues_, who
+met every evening, for a pipe and a cheerful glass. In this way all
+respectable burgesses, down to fifty years ago, spent their evenings.
+Strangers might enter the room, but they were made to feel that they
+were there on sufferance: they were received with distance and
+suspicion. Most of the regular visitors knew each other: when thy did
+not, it was tavern politeness not to ask; a case is on record of four
+cronies, who used the _Cock_ in Meet Street for thirty years, not one
+knowing either the name or the trade of the other three. Yet when one
+died, the other three pined away. This good old custom is now decayed.
+The respectable burgess stays at home, which is much more monotonous.
+Yet there may still be found a parlour here and there with a society
+meeting every evening all the year round.
+
+The parlour of the _Salutation_ was a good-sized room wainscoted and
+provided with a sanded floor. It was furnished with a dozen wooden
+chairs, and three small round tables, the chairs disposed in a circle so
+as to prevent corners or cliques in conversation. Sacred is the
+fraternity, liberty, and equality of the parlour. The room was low, and,
+in the evenings, always hot with its two flaming unprotected gas jets;
+the window was never opened except in the morning, and there was always
+present a rich perfume of tobacco, beer, and spirits, both that
+anciently generated and that of the day's creation.
+
+Among the frequenters,--who were, it must be confessed, a somewhat faded
+or decayed company--was, to put him first because he was the richest the
+great Mr. Robert Hellyer, of Barnard's Inn, usurer or money-lender.
+Nobody quite likes the profession--one knows not why. Great fortunes
+have been made in it; the same fortunes have been dissipated by the
+money-lenders' heirs. Such fortunes do not stick, somehow. Mr. Hellyer,
+for instance, was reputed wealthy beyond the dreams of the wildest
+desire. It was also said of him, under breath and in whispers and
+envious murmurs, that should a man borrow a five-pound note of him, that
+borrower would count himself lucky if he escaped with the loss of
+seventy-five pounds; and might generally expect to lose the whole of his
+household furniture, and the half of his income, for the rest of his
+natural life. To be sure, he sometimes had losses, as he said himself,
+with a groan; as when an unscrupulous client jumped off the Embankment,
+when he had not paid more than fifty pounds on the original five; or
+when a wicked man sold off his furniture secretly, in contempt of the
+bill of sale, and got clean out of the country with his wife and
+children. But on the whole he did pretty well. It was further said, by
+old clients, that his heart was a simple piece of round granite, for
+which he had no use, and that he made money out of it by letting it out
+at so much an hour for a paving mallet.
+
+Mr. Robert Hellyer was not a genial man, or a cheerful or a pleasant man
+to look upon; he neither loved nor comprehended a jest; he never smiled;
+he kept his mind always employed on the conduct of his business. Every
+night--forgive the solitary weakness--he drank as much as he could
+carry. In appearance, he was red-faced, thick-necked, and stout; his
+voice was thick even in the morning, when he was under no compulsion to
+thickness; it was believed by his friends that his education had been
+imperfect; perhaps because he never gave anybody reason to suppose that
+he had ever received any education at all. To such men as Mr. Hellyer,
+who every night take much strong drink, and on no occasion whatever take
+any exercise, sixty is the grand climacteric. He was, a year ago, just
+fifty-nine. Alas! he has not even reached his grand climacteric. Already
+he is gone. He was cut off by pneumonia, or apoplexy, last Christmas.
+Those who saw the melancholy _cortege_ filing out of the narrow gates of
+Barnard's Inn, mournfully remarked that none of his money was taken with
+him, and asked what happiness he could possibly find in the next world,
+which he would begin with nothing--nothing at all--not even credit--an
+absolute pauper.
+
+Mr. Robert Hellyer sat on one side of the empty fireplace. On the
+opposite side, a great contrast to his coarse and vulgar race, sat an
+elderly man, tall, thin, dressed in a coat whose sleeves were worn to
+shininess. His face was dejected: his features were still fine: he was
+evidently a gentleman. This person was a barrister, decayed and
+unsuccessful; he lived in a garret in Gray's Inn. There are a good many
+wrecks at the Bar, but few quite so forlorn as this poor old man. He
+still professed to practise, and picked up a guinea now and then by
+defending criminals. On these casual fees he managed to live. His
+clothes were threadbare; it was many years since he had had a greatcoat;
+on rainy and cold days he had a thin cape which he wore over his
+shoulders. Heaven knows how he dined and breakfasted; every evening,
+except in the hot days of summer, he came to this place for light and
+warmth. Unless he was very poor indeed, he called for a pint of old and
+mild and read the day's paper. Sometimes he talked, but not often;
+sometimes one or other of the company would offer him a more costly
+drink, which he always accepted with all that was left to him of
+courtesy. Outside, he had no friends; they had all forgotten him or
+died--it is very easy for a poor man to be forgotten; he had no
+relations; they had all died, emigrated, and dispersed; the relations of
+the unsuccessful are easily lost. When he talked, he sometimes became
+animated, and would tell anecdotes of the Bar and of the time when he
+was called, nearly fifty years agone, by the Benchers of Gray's Inn.
+What had become of the hopes and ambitions with which that young man
+entered upon the profession, which was to lead him to the parlour of the
+_Salutation_ and the company that gathered there--and to the bare and
+miserable garret of Gray's Inn, forgotten and alone?
+
+Another man, also elderly, who sat next to the barrister, was a
+gentleman who sold an excellent business and retired, in order to betake
+himself more completely to toping. He drank in three taverns during the
+day. One was in Fleet Street, where he took his chop at three; one was
+near Drury Lane Theatre, where he dallied with a little whisky from five
+to nine; and this was the third. He was a quiet, happy, self-respecting,
+dignified old man. In the evening, he spoke not at all--for sufficient
+reasons; but he benevolently inclined his head if he was addressed.
+
+Next to him sat a younger man, a solicitor, whose practice consisted in
+defending prisoners in the Police Courts. He had with him two friends,
+and he had a confident swagger, which passed for ability. Next to him
+and his friends was a house agent, who had been a member for an Irish
+borough: and there was a gentleman, whose wife sang in music halls, so
+that this fortunate person could--and did--sit about in taverns all day
+long. His appearance was that of a deboshed City clerk, as he was. Not
+to mention other members of the company, Checkley was there, occupying a
+chair next to the money-lender.
+
+Here he was called Mr. Checkley. He came every evening at nine o'clock,
+Sundays included. Like the money-lender, he wanted his little
+distractions, and took them in this way. Here, too, he was among those
+who respected him, not so much on account of his public and private
+virtues, or for his eminence in the law, as his money. It is not often
+that a solicitor's clerk becomes a 'warm' man, but then it is not often
+that one of the calling deliberately proposes to himself early in life
+to save money, and lives till seventy-five steadily carrying out his
+object. If you are good at figures, you will understand how Mr. Checkley
+succeeded. Between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five he had an income
+which averaged about seventy-five pounds. He lived upon fifty pounds a
+year. From twenty-five to thirty-five he made an average of one hundred
+and fifty pounds: he still lived upon fifty pounds a year. At
+thirty-five he was induced by prudential considerations to marry: the
+lady, considerably his senior, had a thousand pounds. She was even more
+miserly than himself, and in a year or so after marriage, she fell into
+a decline, owing to insufficient nourishment, and presently expired. On
+the whole he calculated that he was the better man for the marriage by a
+thousand pounds. From thirty-five to forty-five his income rose to two
+hundred pounds: it then for twenty-five years stood at three hundred
+pounds a year; at the age of seventy Mr. Dering gave him four hundred
+pounds. Therefore, to sum up, he had put by out of his pay the sum of
+11,675_l_.--and this without counting the compound interest always
+mounting up from his investments, which were all of a careful kind such
+as he understood: tenement houses, of which he had a good number: shares
+in building societies: money lent on bills of sale or on mortgage. At
+home--Mr. Checkley lived on the ground floor of one of his own
+houses--he grew more miserly as he grew older. The standard of luxury is
+not high when fifty pounds a year covers all; but of late he had been
+trying to keep below even that humble amount. He conducted his affairs
+in the evening between his office hours and nine at his own house, or
+among the people where his property lay. It was in the district, visited
+by few, lying east of Gray's Inn Road: his own house was in a certain
+small square, a good half of the houses in which belonged to him.
+
+At nine o'clock he arrived at the tavern. Here his drinks cost him
+nothing. A custom had grown up in the course of years for the
+money-lender to consult him on the many difficult points which arise in
+the practice of his profession. He was one of those who like to have one
+foot over the wall erected by the law, but not both. In other words, he
+was always trying to find out how far the law would allow him to go, and
+where it called upon him to stop. With this view he schemed perpetually
+to make his clients sign bonds under the delusion that they meant a
+hundredth part of what they really did mean. And as, like all ignorant
+men, he had the most profound belief in the power and the knowledge and
+the chicanery of lawyers, he was pleased to obtain Checkley's advice in
+return for Checkley's drinks.
+
+It was a full gathering. The old clerk arrived late: he was gratified at
+hearing the ex-M.P. whispering to his friends that the new arrival was
+worth his twenty thousand pounds if a penny. He swelled with honourable
+pride. Yes. Twenty thousand pounds! And more--more. Who would have
+thought, when he began as an office boy, that he could ever achieve so
+much?
+
+The money-lender, bursting with a new case, real or supposed, took his
+pipe out of his mouth and communicated it in a hoarse whisper.
+
+'Suppose----' it began.
+
+'Then'--Checkley replied when the case was finished--'you would lay
+yourself open to a criminal prosecution. Don't you go so much as to
+think of it. There was a case twenty-five years ago exactly like it. The
+remarks of the judge were most severe, and the sentence was heavy.'
+
+'Ah!' The usurer's red face grew redder. 'Then it can't be thought of.
+Pity, too. There's a houseful of furniture and a shopful of stuff. And
+a young man as it would do good to him just to start fair again.
+Pity.--Put a name to it, Mr. Checkley.'
+
+'Rum. Hot. With lemon,' replied the sage. 'You get more taste in your
+mouth, more upliftin' for your heart, as they say, more strengthenin'
+for the stomach, better value all round for your money out of rum than
+any other drink that I know.'
+
+At this point, and before the waiter could execute the order, voices and
+steps were heard outside the room. The voices of two men. That of one
+loud, eager, noisy. That of the other quiet, measured, and calm.
+
+Checkley sat upright suddenly and listened.
+
+'That is young Cambridge,' said the old barrister. 'I thought he would
+be here--Saturday night and all.' He smiled, as if expectant of
+something, and drank off the rest of his beer at a draught.
+
+'Most distinguished Cambridge man,' whispered the ex-M.P. to his
+friends. 'Wanst a Fellow of Cambridge College. Great scholar. Ornament
+to any circle. Dhrinks likes an oyster. Son of a Bishop too--Son of an
+Irish Bishop--Talks Greek like English. He'll come in directly. He's
+taking something outside. He's always half dhrunk to begin, and quite
+dhrunk to finish. But he only talks the better--being Oirish. Most
+remarkable man.'
+
+The voice of this distinguished person Checkley knew. But the other
+voice? That he knew as well. And he could not remember whose voice it
+was. Very well indeed he remembered the sound of it. Some men never
+forget a face: some men never forget a shape or figure: some men never
+forget a voice: some men never forget a handwriting. A voice is the
+simplest thing, after all, to remember, and the most unchanging. From
+eighteen till eighty a man's voice changes not, save that in volume it
+decreases during the last decade: the distinguishing quality of the
+voice remains the same to the end.
+
+'Have a drink, my dear fellow.' That was the voice of the Pride of
+Cambridge.
+
+'Thanks. I don't want a drink.'
+
+Whose voice was it? Checkley sat up eager for the door to be opened, and
+that doubt to be resolved.
+
+It was opened. The two men came in first, the Cambridge man leading the
+way. He was a good-looking, smooth-faced man of thirty-two or so, with
+bright blue eyes--too bright--a fine face, full of delicacy and
+mobility, a high, narrow forehead, and quick sensitive lips; a man who
+was obviously in want of some one to take him in hand and control him:
+one of those men who have no will of their own, and fall naturally
+before any temptation which assails them. The chief temptation which
+assailed Freddy Carstone--it seems to stamp the man that his friends all
+called him Freddy--a Freddy is amiable, weak, beloved, and given to err,
+slip, fall, and give way--was the temptation to drink. He was really, as
+the ex-M.P. told his friends, a very fine scholar: he had been a Fellow
+of his college, but never received any appointment or office of Lecturer
+there on account of this weakness of his, which was notorious. When his
+Fellowship expired, he came to London, lived in Gray's Inn, and took
+pupils. He had the reputation of being an excellent coach if he could be
+caught sober. He was generally sober in the morning; often a little
+elevated in the afternoon; and always cheerfully--not stupidly--drunk at
+night.
+
+'You must have a drink,' Freddy repeated. 'Not want a drink? Hang it,
+old man, it isn't what you want, it's what you like. If I only took what
+I wanted, I should be--what should I be? Fellow and Tutor of the
+college--very likely Master--most probably Archdeacon--certainly Bishop.
+Wasn't my father a Bishop? Now, if you take what you like, as well as
+what you want--what happens? You go easily and comfortably down
+hill--down--down--down--like me. Tobogganing isn't easier: the
+switchback railway isn't more pleasant. Always take what you like.'
+
+'No--no, Freddy; thanks.'
+
+'What? You've got ambitions still? You want to be climbing? Man alive!
+it's too late. You've stayed away from your friends too long. You can't
+get up. Better join us at the _Salutation_ Club. Come in with me. I'll
+introduce you. They'll be glad to have you. Intellectual conversation
+carried on nightly. Romantic scenery from the back window. Finest
+parlour in London. Come in and sample the Scotch.--Not want a drink? Who
+ever saw a man who didn't want a drink?'
+
+The other man followed, reluctantly--and at sight of him Checkley jumped
+in his chair. Then he snatched the paper from the hands of the ancient
+barrister, and buried his head in it. The action was most remarkable and
+unmistakable. He hid himself behind the paper; for the man whom the
+Cambridge scholar was dragging into the room was none other than
+Athelstan Arundel--the very man of whom Mr. Dering had been speaking
+that very afternoon: the very man whose loss he had been regretting: the
+man accused by himself of forgery. So great was his terror at the sight
+of this man that he was fain to hide behind the paper.
+
+Yes: the same man: well dressed, apparently, and prosperous--in a velvet
+jacket and a white waistcoat, with a big brown beard--still carrying
+himself with that old insolent pride, as if he had never forged
+anything: looking not a day older, in spite of the eight years that had
+elapsed. What was he doing here?
+
+'Come in, man,' said Freddy again. 'You shall have one drink at least,
+and as many more as you like.--Robert, two Scotch and soda. We haven't
+met for eight long years. Let us sit down and confess our sins for eight
+years. Where have you been?'
+
+'For the most part--abroad.'
+
+'You don't look it. He who goes abroad to make his fortune always comes
+home in rags, with a pistol in his coat-tail, and a bowie-knife in his
+belt. At least we are taught so. You wear velvet and fine linen. You
+haven't been abroad. I don't believe you've been farther than
+Camberwell. In fact, Camberwell has been your headquarters. You've been
+living in Camberwell--on Camberwell Green, which is a slice of Eden,
+with--perhaps--didn't pretty Polly Perkins live on Camberwell
+Green?--for eight long years.'
+
+'Let me call upon you in your lodgings, where we can talk.
+
+'I haven't got any lodgings. I am in Chambers--I live all by myself in
+Gray's Inn. Come and see me. I am always at home in the mornings--to
+pupils only--and generally at home in the afternoon to pupils and topers
+and Lushingtons. Here's your whisky. Sit down. Let me introduce you to
+the company. This is a highly intellectual society--not what you would
+expect of a Holborn Parlour. It is a club which meets here every
+evening--a first-class club. Subscription, nothing. Entrance fee,
+nothing. Order what you like. Don't pretend not to know your
+brother-members.--Gentlemen, this is my old friend, Mr. Athelstan
+Arundel, who has been abroad--on Camberwell Green--for the sake of Polly
+Perkins--for eight years, and has now returned.'
+
+The ex-M.P. nudged his friends to call their attention to something
+good. The rest received the introduction and the remarks which followed
+in silence.
+
+'Arundel, the gentleman by the fireplace, he with the pipe--is our
+Shylock, sometimes called the Lord Shylock.' The money-lender looked up
+with a dull and unintelligent eye: I believe the allusion was entirely
+above his comprehension.--'Beside him is Mr. Vulpes--he with his head
+buried in the paper--you'll see him presently. Mr. Vulpes is advanced in
+years, but well preserved, and knows every letter of the law: he is,
+indeed, an ornament of the lower branch. Vulpes will let you a house--he
+has many most charming residences--or will advance you money on
+mortgage. He knows the law of landlord and tenant, and the law regarding
+Bills of Sale. I recommend Vulpes to your friendly consideration.--Here
+is Senex Bibulus Benevolens.'--The old gentleman kindly inclined his
+head, being too far gone for speech.--'Here is a most learned counsel,
+who ought, had merit prevailed, to have been by this time Lord
+Chancellor, Chief Justice, Judge or Master of the Rolls, or Queen's
+Counsel at least. So far he is still a Junior, but we hope for his
+speedy advancement.--Sir, I entreat the honour of offering you a goblet
+of more generous drink.--Robert, Irish whisky and a lemon for this
+gentleman.--There'--he pointed to the ex-M.P., who again nudged his
+friends and grinned--'is our legislator and statesman, the pride of his
+constituents, the darling of Ballynacuddery till they turned him
+out.--There'--he pointed to the deboshed clerk--'is a member of a great
+modern profession, a gentleman with whom it is indeed a pride to sit
+down. He is Monsieur le Mari: Monsieur le Mari complaisant et content.'
+
+'I don't know what you mean,' said the gentleman indicated. 'If you want
+to talk Greek, talk it outside.'
+
+'I cannot stay,' said Athelstan, looking about the room with scant
+respect. 'I will call upon you at your Chambers.'
+
+'Do--do, my dear fellow.' Athelstan shook hands and walked away. 'Now,
+there's a man, gentlemen, who might have done anything--anything he
+might have done. Rowed stroke to his boat. Threw up everything eight
+years ago and went away--nobody knew why. Sad to see so much promise
+wasted. Sad--sad. He hasn't even touched his drink. Then I
+must--myself.' And he did.
+
+Observe that there is no such lamentation over the failure of a
+promising young man as from one who has also failed. For, by a merciful
+arrangement, the failure seldom suspects himself of having failed.
+
+'Now, Mr. Checkley,' said the barrister, 'he's gone away and you needn't
+hide yourself any longer--and you can let me have my paper again.'
+
+Mr. Checkley spoke no more that evening. He drank up his rum-and-water,
+and he went away mightily perturbed. That Athelstan Arundel had come
+back portended that something would happen. And like King Cole's
+prophet, he could not foretell the nature of the event.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+A REBELLIOUS CHILD
+
+
+Elsie left her lover at the door. Most accepted suitors accompany their
+sweethearts into the very bosom of the family--the gynaeceum--the
+parlour, as it used to be called. Not so George Austin. Since the
+engagement--the deplorable engagement--it was understood that he was not
+to presume upon entering the house. Romeo might as well have sent in his
+card to Juliet's mamma. In fact, that lady could not possibly regard the
+pretensions of Romeo more unfavourably than Mrs. Arundel did those of
+George Austin. This not on account of any family inequality, for his
+people were no more decidedly of the middle class than her own. That is
+to say, they numbered as many members who were presentable and quite as
+many who were not. Our great middle class is pretty well alike in this
+respect. In every household there are things which may be paraded and
+things _tacenda_: members unsuccessful, members disgraceful. All the
+world knows all the things which must be concealed: we all know that all
+the world knows them; but still we pretend that there are no such
+things, and so we maintain the family dignity. Nor could the widow
+object to George on account of his religious opinions, in which he
+dutifully followed his forefathers; or of his abilities, manners,
+morals, culture, accomplishments, or outward appearance, in all of which
+he was everything that could be expected of a young man who had his own
+fortune to make. A rich young man has no need of manners, morals,
+abilities, or accomplishments: a thing too often forgotten by satirists
+when they depict the children of Sir Midas Georgias and his tribe. The
+lady's objection was simply and most naturally that the young man had
+nothing and would probably never have anything: that he was a managing
+clerk without money to buy a partnership in a highly congested
+profession. To aggravate this objection, he stood in the way of two most
+desirable suitors who were supposed to be ready should Elsie give them
+any encouragement. They were a rich old man whose morals could no longer
+be questioned; and a rich young man whose morals would doubtless improve
+with marriage--if, that is, they wanted improvement, for on this
+delicate subject ladies find it difficult to get reliable information.
+And, again, the exalted position of the elder sister should have been an
+example and a beacon. Which of you, Mesdames, would look on with
+patience at such a sacrifice--a young and lovely daughter thrown away,
+with all her charms and all her chances, upon a man with two hundred
+pounds a year and no chance of anything much better? Think of it--two
+hundred pounds a year--for a gentlewoman!
+
+There are some families--many families--with whom the worship of wealth
+is hereditary. The Arundels have been City people, married with other
+City people--in trade--for two hundred years and more: they are all
+members of City Companies: there have been Lord Mayors and Sheriffs
+among them: some of them--for they are now a clan--are rich: some are
+very rich; one or two are very, very rich: those who fail and go
+bankrupt quickly drop out of sight. All their traditions are of
+money-getting: they estimate success and worth and respect by the amount
+a man leaves behind--it is the good old tradition: they talk of money:
+they are not vulgar or loud or noisy or disagreeable in any way: but
+they openly and without disguise worship the great god Plutus and
+believe that he, and none other, is the God of the Christians. They have
+as much culture as other people, at least to outward show: they furnish
+their houses as artistically as other people: they buy pictures and
+books: but ideas do not touch them: if they read new ideas, they are not
+affected by them, however skilfully they may be put: they go to Church
+and hear the parable about Dives and they wonder how Dives could have
+been so hard-hearted. Then they go home and talk about money.
+
+Elsie's father, a younger son of the richest branch of this family,
+started with a comfortable little fortune and a junior partnership. He
+was getting on very well indeed: he had begun to show the stuff of which
+he was made, a good, stout, tenacious kind of stuff, likely to last and
+to hold out; he was beginning to increase his fortune: he looked forward
+to a successful career: and he hoped to leave behind him, after many,
+many years, perhaps three-quarters of a million. He was only thirty-five
+years of age, yet he was struck down and had to go. His widow received
+little more than her husband's original fortune: it was small compared
+with what she might fairly have expected when she married, but it was
+large enough for her to live with her three children in Pembridge
+Gardens. What happened to the son, you know. He went away in a royal
+rage and had never been heard of since. The elder daughter, Hilda, when
+about two-and-twenty, as you also know, had the good fortune to attract
+the admiration of a widower of very considerable wealth, the brother of
+her guardian. He was forty years older than herself, but he was
+rich--nay, very rich indeed. Jute, I believe, on an extensive scale, was
+the cause of his great fortune. He was knighted on a certain great
+occasion when Warden of his Company, so that he offered his bride a
+title and precedence, as well as a great income, a mansion in Palace
+Gardens, a handsome settlement, carriages and horses, and everything
+else that the feminine heart can desire.
+
+The widow, soon after her husband died, found the time extremely dull
+without the daily excitement of the City talk to which she had been
+accustomed. There was no one with whom she could discuss the money
+market. Now, all her life, she had been accustomed to talk of shares and
+stocks and investments and fluctuations and operations and buying in and
+selling out. She began, therefore, to watch the market on her own
+account. Then she began to operate: then she gave her whole time and all
+her thoughts to the business of studying, watching, reading, and
+forecasting. Of course, then, she lost her money and fell into
+difficulties. Nothing of the kind: she made money. There is always
+plenty of virtuous indignation ready for those foolish persons who
+dabble in stocks. They are gamblers; they always lose in the long run:
+we all know that; the copy-books tell us so. If two persons play heads
+and tails for sovereigns, do they both lose in the long run? If so, who
+wins? Where does the money go? Even a gambler need not always lose in
+the long run, as all gamblers know. _La veuve_ Arundel was not in any
+sense a gambler. Nor was she a dabbler. She was a serious and
+calculating operator. She took up one branch of the great money market
+and confined her attentions to that branch, which she studied with so
+much care and assiduity that she became a professional; that is to say,
+she threw into the study all her energies, all her thoughts, and all her
+intellect. When a young man does this on the Stock Exchange he may
+expect to win. Mrs. Arundel was not an ordinary young man; she was a
+sharp and clever woman: by hard work she had learned all that can be
+learned, and had acquired some of that prescience which comes of
+knowledge--the prophet of the future is, after all, he who knows and can
+discuss the forces and the facts of the present: the Sibyl at the
+present day would be a journalist. She was clear-headed, quick to see
+and ready to act: she was of a quick temper as well as a quick
+perception: and she was resolute. Such qualities in most women make them
+absolute sovereigns in the household. Mrs. Arundel was not an absolute
+sovereign--partly because she thought little of her household, and
+partly because her children were distinguished by much the same
+qualities, and their subjection would have proved difficult if not
+impossible.
+
+This was the last house in London where one might have expected to find
+a girl who was ready to despise wealth and to find her happiness in a
+condition of poverty. Elsie was completely out of harmony with all her
+own people. There is a good deal of opinion going about in favour of the
+simple life: many girls have become socialists in so far as they think
+the amassing of wealth neither desirable nor worthy of respect: many
+would rather marry a man of limited means who has a profession than a
+rich man who has a business: many girls hold that Art is a much finer
+thing than wealth. Elsie learned these pernicious sentiments at school:
+they attracted her at first because they were so fresh: she found all
+the best literature full of these sentiments: she developed in due
+course a certain natural ability for art: she attended an art school:
+she set up an easel: she painted in pastel: she called her room a
+studio. She gave her friends the greatest uneasiness by her opinions:
+she ended, as you have seen, by becoming engaged to a young man with
+nothing. How could such a girl be born of such parents?
+
+When she got home on Saturday evening she found her mother playing a
+game of double _vingt un_ with a certain cousin, one Sydney Arundel. The
+game is very good for the rapid interchange of coins: you should make it
+a time game, to end in half an hour--one hour--two hours, and at the end
+you will find that you have had a very pretty little gamble. Mrs.
+Arundel liked nothing better than a game of cards--provided the stakes
+were high enough to give it excitement. To play cards for love is indeed
+insipid: it is like a dinner of cold boiled mutton or like sandwiches of
+veal. The lady would play anything, piquet, ecarte, double dummy--and
+her daughter Elsie hated the sight of cards. As for the cousin, he was
+on the Stock Exchange: he came often to dinner and to talk business
+after dinner. He was a kind of musical box or barrel organ in
+conversation, because he could only play one tune. His business as well
+as his pleasure was in the money market.
+
+'So you have come home, Elsie?' said Mrs. Arundel coldly.
+
+'Yes, I have come home.' Elsie seated herself at the window and waited.
+
+'Now, Sydney'--her mother took up the cards. 'My deal--will you take any
+more?'
+
+She was a good-looking woman still, though past fifty: her abundant hair
+had gone pleasantly gray, her features were fine, her brown eyes were
+quick and bright: her lips were firm, and her chin straight. She was
+tall and of good figure: she was clad in black silk, with a large gold
+chain about her neck and good lace upon her shoulders. She wore many
+rings and a bracelet. She liked, in fact, the appearance of wealth as
+well as the possession of it: she therefore always appeared in costly
+raiment: her house was furnished with a costly solidity: everything,
+even the bindings of her books, was good to look at: her one man-servant
+looked like the responsible butler of a millionaire, and her one-horse
+carriage looked as if it belonged to a dozen.
+
+The game went on. Presently, the clock struck ten. 'Time,' said the
+lady. 'We must stop. Now then. Let us see--I make it seventy-three
+shillings.--Thank you. Three pounds thirteen--an evening not altogether
+wasted.--And now, Sydney, light your cigar. You know I like it. You
+shall have your whisky and soda--and we will talk business. There are
+half-a-dozen things that I want to consult you about. Heavens! why
+cannot I be admitted to the Exchange? A few women among you--clever
+women, like myself, Sydney--would wake you up.'
+
+They talked business for an hour, the lady making notes in a little
+book, asking questions and making suggestions. At last the cousin got
+up--it was eleven o'clock--and went away. Then her mother turned to
+Elsie.
+
+'It is a great pity,' she said, 'that you take no interest in these
+things.'
+
+'I dislike them very much, as you know,' said Elsie.
+
+'Yes--you dislike them because they are of real importance. Well--never
+mind.--You have been out with the young man, I suppose?'
+
+'Yes--we have been on the river together.'
+
+'I supposed it was something of the kind. So the housemaid keeps company
+with the potboy without consulting her own people.'
+
+'It is nothing unusual for me to spend an evening with George. Why not?
+You will not suffer me to bring him here.'
+
+'No,' said her mother with firmness. 'That young man shall never, under
+any circumstances, enter this house with my knowledge! For the rest,'
+she added, 'do as you please.'
+
+This was the kind of amiable conversation that had been going on day
+after day since Elsie's engagement--protestations of ceasing to
+interfere, and continual interference.
+
+There are many ways of considering the subject of injudicious and
+unequal marriages. You may ridicule: you may cajole: you may argue: you
+may scold: you may coax: you may represent the naked truth as it is, or
+you may clothe its limbs with lies--the lies are of woven stuff, strong,
+and home-made. When you have an obdurate, obstinate, contumacious,
+headstrong, wilful, self-contained maiden to deal with, you will waste
+your breath whatever you do. The mother treated Elsie with scorn, and
+scorn alone. It was her only weapon. Her elder sister tried other
+weapons: she laughed at the makeshifts of poverty: she cajoled with
+soft flattery and golden promises: she argued with logic pitiless: she
+scolded like a fishwife: she coaxed with tears and kisses: she painted
+the loveliness of men who are rich, and the power of women who are
+beautiful. And all in vain. Nothing moved this obdurate, obstinate,
+contumacious, headstrong, wilful Elsie. She would stick to her promise:
+she would wed her lover even if she had to entertain Poverty as well all
+her life.
+
+'Are you so infatuated,' the mother went on, 'that you cannot see that
+he cares nothing for your happiness? He thinks about nobody but himself.
+If he thought of you, he would see that he was too poor to make you
+happy, and he would break it off. As it is, all he wants is to marry
+you.'
+
+'That is indeed all. He has never disguised the fact.'
+
+'He offers you the half of a bare crust.'
+
+'By halving the crust we shall double it.'
+
+'Oh! I have no patience. But there is an end. You know my opinion, and
+you disregard it. I cannot lock you up, or beat you, for your
+foolishness. I almost wish I could. I will neither reason with you any
+more nor try to dissuade you. Go your own way.'
+
+'If you would only understand. We are going to live very simply. We
+shall put all unhappiness outside the luxuries of life. And we shall get
+on if we never get rich. I wish I could make you understand our point of
+view. It makes me very unhappy that you will take such a distorted
+view.'
+
+'I am glad that you can still feel unhappiness at such a cause as my
+displeasure.'
+
+'Well, mother, to-night we have come to a final decision.'
+
+'Am I to learn it?'
+
+'Yes; I wish to tell you at once. We have been engaged for two years.
+The engagement has brought me nothing but wretchedness at home. But I
+should be still more wretched--I should be wretched all my life--if I
+were to break it off. I shall be of age in a day or two and free to act
+on my own judgment.'
+
+'You are acting on your own judgment already.'
+
+'I have promised George that I will marry him when he pleases--that is,
+about the middle of August, when he gets his holiday.'
+
+'Oh! The misery of poverty will begin so soon? I am sorry to hear it. As
+I said above, I have nothing to say against it--no persuasion or
+dissuasion--you will do as you please.'
+
+'George has his profession, and he has a good name already. He will get
+on. Meantime, a little plain living will hurt neither of us. Can't you
+think that we may begin in a humble way and yet get on?
+Money--money--money. Oh! Must we think of nothing else?'
+
+'What is there to think of but money? Look round you, silly child. What
+gives me this house--this furniture--everything? Money. What feeds you
+and clothes you? Money. What gives position, consideration, power,
+dignity? Money. Rank without money is contemptible. Life without money
+is miserable, wretched, intolerable. Who would care to live when the
+smallest luxury--the least comfort--has to be denied for want of money.
+Even the Art of which you talk so much only becomes respectable when it
+commands money. You cannot keep off disease without money; you cannot
+educate your children without money: it will be your worst punishment in
+the future that your children will sink and become servants. Child!' she
+cried passionately, 'we must be masters or servants--nay--lords or
+slaves. You leave the rank of lord and marry the rank of slave. It is
+money that makes the difference--money--money--money--that you pretend
+to despise. It is money that has done everything for you. Your
+grandfather made it--your father made it--I am making it. Go on in your
+madness and your folly. In the end, when it is too late, you will long
+for money, pray for money, be ready to do anything for money--for your
+husband and your children.'
+
+'We shall have, I hope, enough. We shall work for enough--no more.'
+
+'Well, child,' her mother returned quietly, 'I said that I would say
+nothing. I have been carried away. Let there be no more said. Do as you
+please. You know my mind--your sister's mind--your cousins'----'
+
+'I do not wish to be guided by my cousins.'
+
+'Very well. You will stay here until your wedding day. When you marry
+you will leave this house--and me and your sister and all your people.
+Do not expect any help from me. Do not look forward to any inheritance
+from me. My money is all my own to deal with as I please. If you wish
+to be poor you shall be poor. Hilda tells me that you are to see your
+guardian on Monday. Perhaps he may bring you to your senses. As for
+me--I shall say no more.'
+
+With these final words the lady left the room and went to bed. How many
+times had she declared that she would say no more?
+
+The next day being Sunday, the bells began to ring in the morning, and
+the two ladies sallied forth to attend Divine service as usual. They
+walked side by side, in silence. That sweet and gracious nymph, the Lady
+Charity, was not with them in their pew. The elder lady, externally
+cold, was full of resentment and bitterness: the younger was more than
+usually troubled by the outbreak of the evening. Yet, she was no nearer
+surrender. The sermon, by a curious coincidence, turned upon the
+perishable nature of earthly treasures, and the vanity of the objects
+desired by that unreasoning person whom they used to call the Worldling.
+The name has perished, but the creature still exists, and is found in
+countless herds in every great town. The parsons are always trying to
+shoot him down; but they never succeed. There was just a fiery passage
+or two directed against the species. Elsie hoped that the words would go
+home. Not at all. They fell upon her mother's heart like seed upon the
+rock. She heard them, but heard them not. The Worldling, you see, never
+understands that he is a Worldling. Nor does Dives believe himself to be
+anything more than Lazarus, such is his modesty.
+
+The service over, they went home in silence. They took their early
+dinner in silence, waited on by the solemn man-servant. After dinner,
+Elsie sought the solitude of her studio. And here--nobody looking
+on--she obeyed the first law of her sex, and had a good cry. Even the
+most resolute of maidens cannot carry through a great scheme against
+great opposition without the consolation of a cry.
+
+On the table lay a note from Mr. Dering:
+
+     'MY DEAR WARD--I am reminded that you come of age on Monday.
+     I am also reminded by Hilda that you propose to take a very
+     important step against the wish of your mother. Will you
+     come and see me at ten o'clock to talk this over?--Your
+     affectionate Guardian.'
+
+Not much hope to be got out of that letter. A dry note from a dry man.
+Very little doubt as to the line which he would take. Yet, not an unkind
+letter. She put it back in her desk and sighed. Another long discussion.
+No: she would not discuss--she would listen, and then state her
+intention. She would listen again, and once more state her intention.
+
+On the easel stood an almost finished portrait in pastel, executed from
+a photograph. It was the portrait of her guardian. She had caught--it
+was not difficult with a face so marked--the set expression, the closed
+lips, the keen eyes, and the habitual look of caution and watchfulness
+which become the characteristics of a solicitor in good practice. So far
+it was a good likeness. But it was an austere face. Elsie, with a few
+touches of her thumb and the chalk which formed her material, softened
+the lines of the mouth, communicated to the eyes a more genial light,
+and to the face an expression of benevolence which certainly had never
+before been seen upon it.
+
+'There!' she said. 'If you would only look like that to-morrow, instead
+of like your photograph, I should have no fear at all of what you would
+say. I would flatter you, and coax you, and cajole you, till you had
+doubled George's salary and promised to get round my mother. You dear
+old man! You kind old man! You sweet old man! I could kiss you for your
+kindness.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+SOMETHING HAPPENS
+
+
+So far a truly enjoyable Sunday. To sit in church beside her angry
+mother, both going through the forms of repentance, charity, and
+forgiveness: and to dine together, going through the ordinary forms of
+kindliness while one at least was devoured with wrath. Waste of good
+roast lamb and gooseberry tart!
+
+Elsie spent the afternoon in her studio, where she sat undisturbed.
+People called, but her mother received them. Now that the last
+resolution had been taken: now that she had promised her lover to brave
+everything and to live the simplest possible life for love's sweet sake,
+she felt that sinking which falls upon the most courageous when the
+boats are burned. Thus Love makes loving hearts to suffer.
+
+The evening, however, made amends. For then, like the housemaid, who
+mounted the area stair as Elsie went down the front-door steps, she went
+forth to meet her lover, and in his company forgot all her fears. They
+went to church together. There they sat side by side, this church not
+having adopted the barbarous custom of separating the sexes--a custom
+which belongs to the time when women were monkishly considered unclean
+creatures, and the cause, to most men, of everlasting suffering, which
+they themselves would most justly share. This couple sat hand in hand;
+the service was full of praise and hope and trust: the Psalms were
+exultant, triumphant, jubilant: the sermon was a ten minutes'
+ejaculation of joy and thanks: there was a Procession with banners, to
+cheer up the hearts of the faithful--what is Faith without a Procession?
+Comfort stole back to Elsie's troubled heart: she felt less like an
+outcast: she came out of the church with renewed confidence.
+
+It was still daylight. They walked round and round the nearest square.
+Jane the housemaid and her young man were doing the same thing. They
+talked with confidence and joy of the future before them. Presently the
+rain began to fall, and Elsie's spirits fell too.
+
+'George,' she said, 'are we selfish, each of us? Is it right for me to
+drag and keep you down?'
+
+'You will not. You will raise me and keep me up. Never doubt that,
+Elsie. I am the selfish one because I make you sacrifice so much.'
+
+'Oh! no--no. It is no sacrifice for me. You must make me brave, George,
+because I am told every day by Hilda and my mother the most terrible
+things. I have been miserable all day long. I suppose it is the battle I
+had with my mother yesterday.'
+
+'Your mother will be all right again as soon as the thing is done. And
+Hilda will come round too. She will want to show you her new carriage
+and her newest dress. Nobody admires and envies the rich relation so
+much as the poor relation. That is the reason why the poor relation is
+so much courted and petted in every rich family. We shall be the poor
+relations, you know, Elsie.'
+
+'I suppose so. We must accept the part and play it properly.' She spoke
+gaily, but with an effort.
+
+'She will give you some of her old dresses. And she will ask us to some
+of her crushes; but we won't go. Oh! Hilda will come round. As for your
+mother----' He repressed what he was about to say. 'As for your mother,
+Elsie, there is no obstinacy so desperate that it cannot be softened by
+something or other. The constant dropping, you know. Give her time. If
+she refuses to change--why--then'--again he changed the words in
+time--'dear child, we must make our own happiness for ourselves without
+our own folk to help us.'
+
+'Yes; we will. At the same time, George, though I am so valiant in talk,
+I confess that I feel as low as a schoolboy who is going to be
+punished.'
+
+'My dear Elsie,' said George, with a little exasperation, 'if they will
+not come round, let them stay flat or square, or sulky, or anything. I
+can hardly be expected to feel very anxious for a change of temper in
+people who have said so many hard things of me. To-morrow, dear, you
+shall get through your talk with Mr. Dering. He's as hard as nails; but
+he's a just man, and he is sensible. In the evening, I will call for you
+at nine, and you shall tell me what he said. In six weeks we can be
+married. I will see about the banns. We will find a lodging somewhere,
+pack up our things, get married, and move in. We can't afford a
+honeymoon, I am afraid. That shall come afterwards when the ship comes
+home.'
+
+'Yes. When I am with you I fear nothing. It is when you are gone: when I
+sit by myself in my own room, and know that in the next room my mother
+is brooding over her wrath and keeping it warm--that I feel so guilty.
+To-night, it is not that I feel guilty at all: it is quite the contrary;
+but I feel as if something was going to happen.'
+
+'Something is going to happen, dear. I am going to put a wedding ring
+round this pretty finger.'
+
+'When one says something in the language of superstition one means
+something bad, something dreadful, something that shall stand between us
+and force us apart. Something unexpected.'
+
+'My child,' said her lover, 'all the powers of all the devils shall not
+force us apart.' A daring and comprehensive boast.
+
+She laughed a little, lightened by words so brave. 'Here we are, dear,'
+she said, as they arrived at the house. 'I think the rain means to come
+down in earnest. You had better make haste home. To-morrow evening at
+nine, I will expect you.'
+
+She ran lightly up the steps and rang the bell: the door was opened: she
+turned her head, laughed, waved her hand to her lover, and ran in.
+
+There was standing on the kerb beneath the street lamp a man apparently
+engaged in lighting a cigar. When the girl turned, the light of the lamp
+fell full upon her face. The man stared at her, forgetting his
+cigar-light, which fell burning from his hand into the gutter. When the
+door shut upon her, he stared at George, who, for his part, his mistress
+having vanished, stared at the door.
+
+All this staring occupied a period of at least half a minute. Then
+George turned and walked away: the man struck another light, lit his
+cigar, and strode away too, but in the same direction. Presently he
+caught up George and laid a hand upon his shoulder.
+
+'Here, you sir,' he said gruffly; 'I want a word with you before we go
+any further.'
+
+George turned upon him savagely. Nobody likes a heavy hand laid upon the
+shoulder. In the old days it generally meant a writ and Whitecross
+Street and other unpleasant things.
+
+'Who the devil are you?' he asked.
+
+'That is the question I was going----' He stopped and laughed.--'No--I
+see now. I don't want to ask it. You are George Austin, are you not?'
+
+'That is my name. But who are you--and what do you want with me?'
+
+The man was a stranger to him. He was dressed in a velvet coat and a
+white waistcoat: he wore a soft felt hat; and with the velvet jacket,
+the felt hat, and a full beard, he looked like an artist of some kind.
+At the end of June it is still light at half-past nine. George saw that
+the man was a gentleman: his features, strongly marked and clear cut,
+reminded him of something--but vaguely; they gave him the common feeling
+of having been seen or known at some remote period. The man looked about
+thirty, the time when the physical man is at his best: he was of good
+height, well set up, and robust. Something, no doubt, in the art world:
+or something that desired to appear as if belonging to the art world.
+Because, you see, the artists themselves are not so picturesque as those
+who would be artists if they could. The unsuccessful artist, certainly,
+is sometimes a most picturesque creature. So is the model. The rags and
+duds and threadbarity too often enter largely into the picturesque. So
+with the ploughboy's dinner under the hedge, or the cotter's Saturday
+night. And the village beershop may make a very fine picture; but the
+artist himself does not partake in those simple joys.
+
+'Well, sir, who are you?' George repeated as the other man made no
+reply.
+
+'Do you not remember me? I am waiting to give you a chance.'
+
+'No--certainly not.'
+
+'Consider. That house into which you have just taken my--a young
+lady--does it not connect itself with me?'
+
+'No. Why should it?'
+
+'Then I suppose that I am completely forgotten.'
+
+'It is very strange. I seem to recall your voice.'
+
+'I will tell you who I am by another question. George Austin, what in
+thunder are you doing with my sister?'
+
+'Your sister?' George jumped up and stared. 'Your sister? Are you--are
+you Athelstan come home again? Really and truly--Athelstan?'
+
+'I am really and truly Athelstan. I have been back in England about a
+fortnight.'
+
+'You are Athelstan?' George looked at him curiously. When the reputed
+black-sheep comes home again, it is generally in rags with a long story
+of fortune's persecutions. This man was not in the least ragged. On the
+contrary, he looked prosperous. What had he been doing? For, although
+Elsie continued passionate in her belief in her brother's innocence,
+everybody else believed that he had run away to escape consequences, and
+George among the number had accepted that belief.
+
+'Your beard alters you greatly. I should not have known you. To be sure
+it is eight years since I saw you last, and I was only just beginning my
+articles when you--left us.' He was on the point of saying 'when you ran
+away.'
+
+'There is a good deal to talk about. Will you come with me to my rooms?
+I am putting up in Half Moon Street.'
+
+Athelstan hailed a passing hansom and they drove off.
+
+'You have been a fortnight in London,' said George, 'and yet you have
+not been to see your own people.'
+
+'I have been eight years away, and yet I have not written a single
+letter to my own people.'
+
+George asked no more questions. Arrived at the lodging, they went in and
+sat down. Athelstan produced soda and whisky and cigars.
+
+'Why have I not called upon my own people?' Athelstan took up the
+question again. 'Because, when I left home, I swore that I would never
+return until they came to beg forgiveness. That is why. Every evening I
+have been walking outside the house, in the hope of seeing some of them
+without their seeing me. For, you see, I should like to go home again;
+but I will not go as I went away, under a shameful cloud. That has got
+to be lifted first. Presently I shall know whether it is lifted. Then I
+shall know how to act. To-night, I was rewarded by the sight of my
+sister Elsie, walking home with you. I knew her at once. She is taller
+than I thought she would become when I went away. Her face hasn't
+changed much, though. She always had the gift of sweet looks, which
+isn't quite the same thing as beauty. My sister Hilda, for instance, was
+always called a handsome girl, but she never had Elsie's sweet looks.'
+
+'She has the sweetest looks in the world.'
+
+'What are you doing with her, George Austin, I ask again?'
+
+'We are engaged to be married.'
+
+'Married? Elsie married? Why--she's--well--I suppose she must be grown
+up by this time.'
+
+'Elsie is very nearly one-and-twenty. She will be twenty-one to-morrow.'
+
+'Elsie going to be married. It seems absurd. One-and-twenty to-morrow.
+Ah!' He sat up eagerly. 'Tell me, is she any richer? Has she had any
+legacies or things?'
+
+'No. How should she? Her _dot_ is her sweet self, which is enough for
+any man.'
+
+'And you, Austin. I remember you were an articled clerk of eighteen or
+nineteen when I went away--are you rich?'
+
+Austin blushed. 'No,' he said; 'I am not. I am a managing clerk at your
+old office. I get two hundred a year, and we are going to marry on
+that.'
+
+Athelstan nodded. 'A bold thing to do. However----Twenty-one
+to-morrow--we shall see.'
+
+'And I am sorry to say there is the greatest opposition--on the part of
+your mother and your other sister. I am not allowed in the house, and
+Elsie is treated as a rebel.'
+
+'Oh! well. If you see your way, my boy, get married, and have a happy
+life, and leave them to come round at their leisure. Elsie has a heart
+of gold. She can believe in a man. She is the only one of my people who
+stood up for me when they accused me without a shadow of proof of----
+The only one--the only one. It is impossible for me to forget that--and
+difficult,' he added, 'to forgive the other thing.--Is my sister Hilda
+still at home?'
+
+'No. She is married to Sir Samuel, brother of your Mr. Dering. He is a
+great deal older than his wife; but he is very rich.'
+
+'Oh!--and my mother?'
+
+'I believe she continues in good health. I am not allowed the privilege
+of calling upon her.'
+
+'And my old chief?'
+
+'He also continues well.'
+
+'And now, since we have cleared the ground so far, let us come to
+business. How about that robbery?'
+
+'What robbery?' The old business had taken place when George was a lad
+just entering upon his articles. He had ceased to think of it.
+
+'What robbery? Man alive!'--Athelstan sprang to his feet--'there is only
+one robbery to me in the whole history of the world since men and
+robberies began. What robbery? Look here, Master George Austin, when a
+man is murdered, there is for that man only one murder in the whole
+history of the world. All the other murders, even that of Abel himself,
+are of no concern at all--not one bit. He isn't interested in them. They
+don't matter to him a red cent. That's my case. The robbery of eight
+years ago, which took a few hundred pounds from a rich man, changed my
+whole life; it drove me out into the world; it forced me for a time to
+live among the prodigals and the swine and the husks. It handed me over
+to a thousand devils; and you ask me what robbery?'
+
+'I am very sorry. It is now a forgotten thing. Nobody remembers it any
+more. I doubt whether Mr. Dering himself ever thinks of it.'
+
+'Well, what was discovered after all? Who did it?'
+
+'Nothing at all has been discovered. No one knows to this day who did
+it.'
+
+'Nothing at all?--I am disappointed. Hasn't old Checkley done time for
+it? Nothing found out?'
+
+'Nothing. The notes were stopped in time, and were never presented.
+After five or six years the Bank of England gave Mr. Dering notes in the
+place of those stolen. And that is all there is to tell.'
+
+'Nothing discovered! And the notes never presented? What good did the
+fellow get by it, then?'
+
+'I don't know. But nothing was discovered.'
+
+'Nothing discovered!' Athelstan repeated. 'Why, I took it for granted
+that the truth had come out long since. I was making up my mind to call
+upon old Dering. I don't think I shall go now.--And my sister Hilda will
+not be coming here to express her contrition. I am disappointed.'
+
+'You can see Elsie if you like.'
+
+'Yes--I can see her,' he repeated.--'George'--he returned to the old
+subject--'do you know the exact particulars of that robbery?'
+
+'There was a forged cheque, and the Bank paid it across the counter.'
+
+'The cheque,' Athelstan explained, 'was made payable to the order of a
+certain unknown person named Edmund Gray. It was endorsed by that name.
+To prove that forgery, they should have got the cheque and examined the
+endorsement. That was the first thing, certainly. I wonder how they
+began.'
+
+'I do not know. It was while I was in my articles, and all we heard was
+a vague report. You ought not to have gone away. You should have stayed
+to fight it out.'
+
+'I was right to give up my berth after what the chief said. How could I
+remain drawing his pay and doing his work, when he had calmly given me
+to understand that the forgery lay between two hands, and that he
+strongly suspected mine?'
+
+'Did Mr. Dering really say so? Did he go so far as that?'
+
+'So I walked out of the place. I should have stayed at home and waited
+for the clearing up of the thing, but for my own people--who--well--you
+know---- So I went away in a rage.'
+
+'And have you come back--as you went--in a rage?'
+
+'Well--you see, that is the kind of fire that keeps alight of its own
+accord.'
+
+'I believe that some sort of a search was made for this Edmund Gray; but
+I do not know how long it lasted or who was employed.'
+
+'Detectives are no good. Perhaps the chief didn't care to press the
+business. Perhaps he learned enough to be satisfied that Checkley was
+the man. Perhaps he was unwilling to lose an old servant. Perhaps the
+villain confessed the thing. It all comes back to me fresh and clear,
+though for eight long years I have not talked with a soul about it.'
+
+'Tell me,' said George, a little out of sympathy with this dead and
+buried forgery--'tell me where you have been--what you have done--and
+what you are doing now.'
+
+'Presently--presently,' he replied with impatience. 'I am sure now that
+I was wrong. I should not have left the country. I should have taken a
+lodging openly, and waited and looked on. Yes; that would have been
+better. Then I should have seen that old villain, Checkley, in the dock.
+Perhaps it is not yet too late. Still--eight years. Who can expect a
+commissionaire to remember a single message after eight years?'
+
+'Well--and now tell me,' George asked again, 'what you have been doing.'
+
+'The black-sheep always turns up, doesn't he? You learn at home that he
+has got a berth in the Rocky Mountains; but he jacks it up and goes to
+Melbourne, where he falls on his feet; but gets tired, and moves on to
+New Zealand, and so home again. It's a regular round.'
+
+'You are apparently the black-sheep whose wool is dyed white. There are
+threads of gold in it. You look prosperous.'
+
+'A few years ago I was actually in the possession of money. Then I
+became poor again. After a good many adventures I became a journalist.
+The profession is in America the refuge of the educated unsuccessful,
+and the hope of the uneducated unsuccessful. I am doing as well as
+journalists in America generally do: I am over here as the
+representative of a Francisco paper. And I expect to stay for some
+time--so long as I can be of service to my people. That's all.'
+
+'Well--it might be a great deal worse. And won't you come to Pembridge
+Crescent with me?'
+
+'When the cloud is lifted: not before. And--George--not a word about me.
+Don't tell--yet--even Elsie.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+SOMETHING MORE HAPPENS
+
+
+Checkley held the door of the office wide open, and invited Elsie to
+enter. The aspect of the room, solid of furniture, severe in its
+fittings, with its vast table covered with papers, struck her with a
+kind of terror. At the table sat her guardian, austere of countenance.
+
+All the way along she had been imagining a dialogue. He would begin with
+certain words. She would reply, firmly but respectfully, with certain
+other words. He would go on. She would again reply. And so on. Everybody
+knows the consolations of imagination in framing dialogues at times of
+trouble. They never come off. The beginning is never what is expected,
+and the sequel, therefore, has to be changed on the spot. The conditions
+of the interview had not been realised by Elsie. Also the beginning was
+not what she expected. For her guardian, instead of frowning with a brow
+of corrugated iron, and holding up a finger of warning, received her
+more pleasantly than she had imagined it possible for him, bade her sit
+down, and leaned back, looking at her kindly.
+
+'And so,' he said, 'you are twenty-one--twenty-one--to-day. I am no
+longer your guardian. You are twenty-one. Everything that is past seems
+to have happened yesterday. So that it is needless to say that you were
+a baby only yesterday.'
+
+'Yes; I am really twenty-one.'
+
+'I congratulate you. To be twenty-one is, I believe, for a young lady at
+least, a pleasant time of life. For my own part, I have almost forgotten
+the memory of youth. Perhaps I never had the time to be young. Certainly
+I have never understood why some men regret their youth so
+passionately. As for your sex, Elsie, I know very little of it except in
+the way of business. In that way, which does not admit of romance, I
+must say that I have sometimes found ladies importunate, tenacious,
+exacting, persistent, and even revengeful.'
+
+'Oh!' said Elsie, with a little winning smile of conciliation. This was
+only a beginning--a prelude--before the unpleasantness.
+
+'That, Elsie, is my unfortunate experience of women--always in the
+way of business, which of course may bring out the worst qualities.
+In society, of which I have little experience, they are
+doubtless--charming--charming.' He repeated the word, as if he had found
+an adjective of whose meaning he was not quite clear. 'An old bachelor
+is not expected, at the age of seventy-five, to know much about such a
+subject. The point before us is that you have this day arrived at the
+mature age of twenty-one. That is the first thing, and I congratulate
+you. The first thing.'
+
+'I wonder,' thought Elsie timidly, 'when he will begin upon the next
+thing--the real thing.'
+
+There lay upon the table before him a paper with notes upon it. He took
+it up, looked at it, and laid it down again. Then he turned to Elsie and
+smiled--he actually smiled--he unmistakably smiled. 'At twenty-one,' he
+said, 'some young ladies who are heiresses come into their property----'
+
+'Those who are heiresses. Unhappily, I am not.'
+
+'Come into their property--their property. It must be a beautiful thing
+for a girl to come into property, unexpectedly, at twenty-one. For a
+man, a temptation to do nothing and to make no more money. Bad! Bad! But
+for a girl already engaged, a girl who wants money, a girl who is
+engaged--eh--to a penniless young solicitor----'
+
+Elsie turned crimson. This was the thing she expected.
+
+'Under such circumstances, I say, such a stroke of fortune would be
+providential and wonderful, would it not?'
+
+She blushed and turned pale, and blushed again. She also felt a strong
+disposition to cry--but repressed that disposition.
+
+'In your case, for instance, such a windfall would be most welcome. Your
+case is rather a singular case. You do not belong to a family which has
+generally disregarded money--quite the reverse--you should inherit the
+love of money--yet you propose to throw away what I believe are very
+good prospects, and----'
+
+'My only prospect is to marry George Austin.'
+
+'So you think. I have heard from your mother, and I have seen your
+sister Hilda. They object very strongly to the engagement.'
+
+'I know, of course, what they would say.'
+
+'Therefore, I need not repeat it,' replied Mr. Dering drily. 'I learn,
+then, that you are not only engaged to this young gentleman, but that
+you are also proposing to marry upon the small income which he now
+possesses.'
+
+'Yes--we are prepared to begin the world upon that income.'
+
+'Your mother asked me what chance he had in his profession. In this
+office he can never rise to a considerable salary as managing clerk. If
+he had money, he might buy a partnership. But he has none, and his
+friends have none. And the profession is congested. He may remain all
+his life in a position not much better than he now occupies. The
+prospect, Elsie, is not brilliant.'
+
+'No--we are fully aware of that. And yet----'
+
+'Allow me, my dear child. You are yourself--we will say for the
+moment--without any means of your own.'
+
+'I have nothing.'
+
+'Or any expectations, except from your mother, who is not yet sixty.'
+
+'I could not count upon my mother's death. Besides, she says that, if I
+persist, she will not leave me anything at all.'
+
+'So much I understand from herself. Her present intention is to remove
+your name from her will, in case you go on with this proposed marriage.'
+
+'My mother will do what she pleases with her property,' said Elsie. 'If
+she thinks that I will give way to a threat of this kind, she does not
+know me.'
+
+'Do not let us speak of threats. I am laying before you facts. Here they
+are plainly. Young Austin has a very small income: he has very little
+prospect of getting a substantial income: you, so far as you know, have
+nothing; and, also so far as you know, you have no prospect of anything.
+These are the facts, are they not?'
+
+'Yes--I suppose these are the facts. We shall be quite poor--very
+likely, quite poor always.' The tears rose to her eyes. But this was not
+a place for crying.
+
+'I want you to understand these facts very clearly,' Mr. Dering
+insisted. 'Believe me, I do not wish to give you pain.'
+
+'All this,' said Elsie, with the beginnings of the family obstinacy in
+her eyes, 'I clearly understand. I have had them put before me too
+often.'
+
+'I also learn from your sister, Lady Dering, that if you abandon this
+marriage she is ready to do anything for you that she can. Her house,
+her carriage, her servants--you can command them all, if you please.
+This you know. Have you considered the meaning of what you propose? Can
+you consider it calmly?'
+
+'I believe we have.'
+
+'On the one side poverty--not what is called a small income. Many people
+live very well on what is called a small income--but grinding, hard
+poverty, which exacts real privations and burdens you with unexpected
+loads. My dear young lady, you have been brought up to a certain amount
+of plenty and ease, if not to luxury. Do you think you can get along
+without plenty and ease?'
+
+'If George can, I can.'
+
+'Can you become a servant--cook, housemaid, lady's-maid--as well as a
+wife--a nurse as well as a mother?'
+
+'If George is made happier by my becoming anything--anything, it will
+only make me happier. Mr. Dering, I am sure you wish me well--you are my
+father's old friend--you have always advised my mother in her
+troubles--my brother was articled to you--but----' She paused,
+remembering that he had not been her brother's best friend.
+
+'I mean the best possible for you. Meantime, you are quite fixed in your
+own mind: you are set upon this thing. That is clear. There is one other
+way of looking at it. You yourself seem chiefly desirous, I think, to
+make the man you love happy. So much the better for him.--Are you quite
+satisfied that the other party to the agreement, your lover, will remain
+happy while he sees you slaving for him, while he feels his own
+helplessness, and while he gets no relief from the grinding poverty of
+his household--while--lastly--he sees his sons taking their place on a
+lower level, and his daughters taking a place below the rank of
+gentlewoman?'
+
+'I reply by another question.--You have had George in your office as
+articled clerk and managing clerk for eight years. Is he, or is he not,
+steadfast, clear-headed, one who knows his own mind, and one who can be
+trusted in all things?'
+
+'Perhaps,' said Mr. Dering, inclining his head. 'How does that advance
+him?'
+
+'Then, if you trust him, why should not I trust him? I trust George
+altogether--altogether. If he does not get on, it will be through no
+fault of his. We shall bear our burden bravely, believe me, Mr. Dering.
+You will not hear him--or me--complain. Besides, I am full of hope. Oh!
+it can never be in this country that a man who is a good workman should
+not be able to get on. Then I can paint a little--not very well,
+perhaps. But I have thought--you will not laugh at me--that I might
+paint portraits and get a little money that way.'
+
+'It is quite possible that he may succeed, and that you may increase the
+family income. Everything is possible. But, remember, you are building
+on possibilities, and I on facts. Plans very beautiful and easy at the
+outset often prove most difficult in the carrying out. My experience of
+marriages is learned by fifty years of work, not imaginative, but
+practical. I have learned that without adequate means no marriage can be
+happy. That is to say, I have never come across any case of wedded
+poverty where the husband or the wife, or both, did not regret the day
+when they faced poverty together instead of separately. That, I say, is
+my experience of such marriages. It is so easy to say that hand in hand
+evils may be met and endured which would be intolerable if one was
+alone. It isn't only hand in hand, Elsie. The hands are wanted for the
+baby, and the evils will fall on the children yet unborn.'
+
+Elsie hung her head. Then she replied timidly: 'I have thought even of
+that. It only means that we go lower down in the social scale.'
+
+'Only? Yet that is everything. People who are well up the ladder too
+often deride those who are fighting and struggling to get up higher. It
+is great folly or great ignorance to laugh. Social position, in such a
+country as ours, means independence, self-respect, dignity, all kinds of
+valuable things. You will throw these all away--yet your grandfathers
+won them for you by hard work. You are yourself a gentlewoman--why?
+Because they made their way up in the world, and placed their sons also
+in the way to climb. That is how families are made--by three generations
+at least of steady work uphill.'
+
+Elsie shook her head sadly. 'We can only hope,' she murmured.
+
+'One more word, and I will say no more. Remember, that love or no love,
+resignation or not, patience or not, physical comfort is the beginning
+and the foundation of all happiness. If you and your husband can satisfy
+the demands of physical comfort, you may be happy--or at least resigned.
+If not---- Well, Elsie, that is all. I should not have said so much had
+I not promised your mother and your sister. I am touched, I confess, by
+your courage and your resolution.'
+
+'We mean never to regret, never to look back, and always to work and
+hope,' said Elsie. 'You will remain our friend, Mr. Dering?'
+
+'Surely, surely.--And now----'
+
+'Now'--Elsie rose--'I will not keep you any longer. You have said what
+you wished to say very kindly, and I thank you.'
+
+'No.--Sit down again; I haven't done with you yet, child. Sit down
+again. No more about that young villain--George Austin.' He spoke so
+good-humouredly, that Elsie complied wondering, but no longer afraid.
+'Nothing more about your engagement. Now, listen carefully, because this
+is most important. Three or four years ago a person wrote to me. That
+person informed me that he--for convenience we will call the person a
+man--wished to place a certain sum of money in my hands in trust--for
+you.'
+
+'For me? Do you mean--in trust? What is Trust?'
+
+'He gave me this sum of money to be given to you on your twenty-first
+birthday.'
+
+'Oh!' Elsie sat up with open eyes. 'A sum of money?--and to me?'
+
+'With a condition or two. The first condition was, that the interest
+should be invested as it came in: the next, that I was on no
+account--mind, on no account at all--to tell you or any one of the
+existence of the gift or the name of the donor. You are now twenty-one.
+I have been careful not to afford you the least suspicion of this happy
+windfall until the time should arrive. Neither your mother, nor your
+sister, nor your lover, knows or suspects anything about it.'
+
+'Oh!' Elsie said once more. An interjection may be defined as a
+prolonged monosyllable, generally a vowel, uttered when no words can do
+justice to the subject.
+
+'And here, my dear young lady'--Elsie cried 'Oh!' once more because--the
+most curious thing in the world--Mr. Dering's grave face suddenly
+relaxed and the lines assumed the very benevolence which she had the day
+before imparted to his portrait, and wished to see upon his
+face!--'Here, my dear young lady'--he laid his hand upon a paper--'is
+the list of the investments which I have made of that money. You have,
+in fact, money in Corporation bonds--Newcastle, Nottingham,
+Wolverhampton. You have water shares--you have gas shares--all good
+investments, yielding at the price of purchase an average of nearly
+three and two-thirds per cent.'
+
+'Investments? Why--how much money was it, then? I was thinking when you
+spoke of a sum of money, of ten pounds, perhaps.'
+
+'No, Elsie, not ten pounds. The money placed in my hands for your use
+was over twelve thousand pounds. With accumulations, there is now a
+little under thirteen thousand.'
+
+'Oh!' cried Elsie for the third time and for the same reason. No words
+could express her astonishment.
+
+'Yes; it will produce about four hundred and eighty pounds a year.
+Perhaps, as some of the stock has gone up, it might be sold out and
+placed to better advantage. We may get it up to five hundred pounds.'
+
+'Do you mean, Mr. Dering, that I have actually got five hundred pounds a
+year--all my own?'
+
+'That is certainly my meaning. You have nearly five hundred pounds a
+year all your own--entirely your own, without any conditions
+whatever--your own.'
+
+'Oh!' She sat in silence, her hands locked. Then the tears came into her
+eyes. 'Oh, George!' she murmured, 'you will not be so very poor after
+all.'
+
+'That is all I have to say to you at present, Elsie,' said Mr. Dering.
+'Now you may run away and leave me. Come to dinner this evening. Your
+mother and your sister are coming. I shall ask Austin as well. We may
+perhaps remove some of those objections. Dinner at seven sharp,
+Elsie.--And now you can leave me.'
+
+'I said last night,' said Elsie, clasping her hands with feminine
+superstition, 'that something was going to happen. But I thought it was
+something horrid. Oh, Mr. Dering, if you only knew how happy you have
+made me! I don't know what to say. I feel stunned. Five hundred pounds a
+year! Oh! it is wonderful! What shall I say? What shall I say?'
+
+'You will say nothing. Go away now. Come to dinner this evening.--Go
+away, my young heiress. Go and make plans how to live on your enlarged
+income. It will not prove too much.'
+
+Elsie rose. Then she turned again. 'Oh, I had actually forgotten. Won't
+you tell the man--or the woman--who gave you that money for me, that I
+thank him from my very heart? It isn't that I think so much about money,
+but oh! the dreadful trouble that there has been at home because George
+has none--and this will do something to reconcile my mother. Don't you
+think it will make all the difference?'
+
+'I hope that before the evening you will find that all opposition has
+been removed,' said her guardian cautiously.
+
+She walked away in a dream. She found herself in Lincoln's Inn Fields:
+she walked all round that great square, also in a dream. The spectre of
+poverty had vanished. She was rich: she was rich: she had five hundred
+pounds a year. Between them they would have seven hundred pounds a year.
+It seemed enormous. Seven hundred pounds a year! Seven--seven--seven
+hundred pounds a year!
+
+She got out into the street called Holborn, and she took the modest
+omnibus, this heiress of untold wealth. How much was it? Thirteen
+millions? or thirteen thousand? One seemed as much as the other. Twelve
+thousand: with accumulations: with accumulations--ations--ations. The
+wheels of the vehicle groaned out these musical words all the way. It
+was in the morning when the Bayswater omnibus is full of girls going
+home to lunch after shopping or looking at the shops. Elsie looked at
+these girls as they sat along the narrow benches. 'My dears,' she longed
+to say, but did not, 'I hope you have every one got a brave lover, and
+that you have all got twelve thousand pounds apiece--with accumulations--
+twelve thousand pounds--with accumulations--ations--ations--realising
+four hundred and eighty pounds a year, and perhaps a little more. With
+accumulations--ations--ations--accumulations.'
+
+She ran into the house and up the stairs singing. At the sound of her
+voice her mother, engaged in calculations of the greatest difficulty,
+paused wondering. When she understood that it was the voice of her child
+and not an organ-grinder, she became angry. What right had the girl to
+run about singing? Was it insolent bravado?
+
+Elsie opened the door of the drawing-room and ran in. Her mother's cold
+face repelled her. She was going to tell the joyful news--but she
+stopped.
+
+'You have seen Mr. Dering?' asked her mother.
+
+'Yes; I have seen him.'
+
+'If he has brought you to reason----'
+
+'Oh! He has--he has. I am entirely reasonable.'
+
+Mrs. Arundel was astonished. The girl was flushed of face and bright of
+eye; her breath was thick; her lips were parted. She looked entirely
+happy.
+
+'My dear mother,' she went on, 'I am to dine with him to-night. Hilda is
+to dine with him to-night. You are to dine with him to-night. It is to
+be a family party. He will bring us all to reason--to a bag full of
+reasons.'
+
+'Elsie, this seems to me to be mirth misplaced.'
+
+'No--no--in its right place--reasons all in a row and on three shelves,
+labelled and arranged and classified.'
+
+'You talk in enigmas.'
+
+'My dear mother'--yet that morning the dear mother would not speak to
+the dear daughter--'I talk in enigmas and I sing in conundrums. I feel
+like an oracle or a Delphic old woman for dark sayings.'
+
+She ran away, slamming the door after her. Her mother heard her singing
+in her studio all to herself. 'Can she be in her right mind?' she asked
+anxiously. 'To marry a Pauper--to receive the admonition of her
+guardian--and such a guardian--and to come home singing. 'Twould be
+better to lock her up than let her marry.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENS
+
+
+Mr. Dering lay back in his chair, gazing at the door--the unromantic
+office door--through which Elsie had just passed. I suppose that even
+the driest of old bachelors and lawyers may be touched by the sight of a
+young girl made suddenly and unexpectedly happy. Perhaps the mere
+apparition of a lovely girl, dainty and delicate and sweet, daintily and
+delicately apparelled, so as to look like a goddess or a wood-nymph
+rather than a creature of clay, may have awakened old and long-forgotten
+thoughts before the instincts of youth were stifled by piles of
+parchment. It is the peculiar and undisputed privilege of the historian
+to read thoughts, but it is not always necessary to write them down.
+
+He sat up and sighed. 'I have not told her all,' he murmured. 'She shall
+be happier still.' He touched his hand-bell. 'Checkley,' he said, 'ask
+Mr. Austin kindly to step this way.--A day of surprise--of joyful
+surprise--for both.'
+
+It was indeed to be a day of good fortune, as you shall see.
+
+He opened a drawer and took out a document rolled and tied, which he
+laid upon the table before him.
+
+George obeyed the summons, not without misgiving, for Elsie, he knew,
+must by this time have had the dreaded interview, and the call might
+have some reference to his own share in the great contumacy. To incur
+the displeasure of his employer in connection with that event might lead
+to serious consequences.
+
+Astonishing thing! Mr. Dering received him with a countenance that
+seemed transformed. He smiled benevolently upon him. He even laughed. He
+smiled when George opened the door: he laughed when, in obedience to a
+gesture of invitation, George took a chair. He actually laughed: not
+weakly or foolishly, but as a strong man laughs.
+
+'I want ten minutes with you, George Austin'--he actually used the
+Christian name--'ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, or perhaps half an
+hour.' He laughed again. 'Now, then'--his face assumed its usual
+judicial expression, but his lips broke into unaccustomed smiles--'Now
+then, sir, I have just seen my ward--my former ward, for she is now of
+age--and have heard--well--everything there was to hear.'
+
+'I have no doubt, sir, that what you heard from Elsie was the exact
+truth.'
+
+'I believe so. The questions which I put to her I also put to you. How
+do you propose to live? On your salary? You have been engaged to my late
+ward without asking the permission of her guardians--that is, her mother
+and myself.'
+
+'That is not quite the case. We found that her mother opposed the
+engagement, and therefore it was not necessary to ask your permission.
+We agreed to let the matter rest until she should be of age. Meanwhile,
+we openly corresponded and saw each other.'
+
+'It is a distinction without a difference. Perhaps what you would call a
+legal distinction. You now propose to marry. Elsie Arundel is no longer
+my ward; but, as a friend, I venture to ask you how you propose to live?
+A wife and a house cost money. Shall you keep house and wife on your
+salary alone? Have you any other resources?'
+
+There are several ways of putting these awkward questions. There is
+especially the way of accusation, by which you charge the guilty young
+man of being by his own fault one of a very huge family--of having no
+money and no expectations--nothing at all, unless he can make it for
+himself. It is the manner generally adopted by parents and guardians.
+Mr. Dering, however, when he put the question smiled genially and rubbed
+his hands--a thing so unusual as to be terrifying in itself--as if he
+was uttering a joke--a thing he never had done in his life. The
+question, however, even when put in this, the kindest way, is one most
+awkward for any young man, and especially to a young man in either
+branch of the law, and most especially to a young man beginning the
+ascent of the lower branch.
+
+Consider, of all the professions, crowded as they are, there is none so
+crowded as this branch of the law. 'What,' asks anxious Quiverful Pere,
+'shall I do with this boy of mine? I will spend a thousand pounds upon
+him and make him a solicitor. Once he has passed, the way is clear for
+him.' 'How,' asks the ambitious man of trade, 'shall I advance my son?
+I will make him a lawyer; once passed he will open an office and get a
+practice and become rich. He will be a gentleman. And his children will
+be born gentlemen.' Very good; a most laudable custom it is in this
+realm of Great Britain for the young men still to be pressing upwards,
+though those who are already high up would fain forget the days of
+climbing and sneer at those who are making their way. But, applied to
+this profession, climbing seems no longer practicable. This way of
+advance will have to be abandoned.
+
+Consider, again. Every profession gets rich out of its own mine. There
+is the mine Ecclesiastic, the mine Medical, the mine Artistic, the mine
+Legal. The last-named contains leases, covenants, agreements, wills,
+bonds, mortgages, actions, partnerships, transfers, conveyances, county
+courts, and other treasures, all to be had for the digging. But--and
+this is too often forgotten--there is only a limited quantity to be
+taken out of the mine every year, and there is not enough to go round,
+except in very minute portions. And since, until we become socialists at
+heart, we shall all of us continue to desire for our share that which is
+called the mess of Benjamin, and since all cannot get that mess--which
+Mr. Dering had enjoyed for the whole of his life--or anything like that
+desirable portion, most young solicitors go in great heaviness of
+spirit--hang their heads, corrugate their foreheads, write despairing
+letters to the girls they left behind them, and with grumbling gratitude
+take the hundred or two hundred a year which is offered for their
+services as managing clerks. Again, the Legal mine seems of late years
+not to yield anything like so much as formerly. There has been a cruel
+shrinkage all over the country, and especially in country towns: the
+boom of building seems to have come to an end: the agricultural
+depression has dragged down with it an immense number of people who
+formerly flourished with the lawyers, and, by means of their savings,
+investments, leases, and partnerships and quarrels, made many a
+solicitor fat and happy. That is all gone. It used to be easy, if one
+had a little money, to buy a partnership. Now it is no longer possible,
+or, at least, no longer easy. Nobody has a business greater than he
+himself can manage; everybody has got a son coming in.
+
+These considerations show why the question was difficult to answer.
+
+Said George in reply, but with some confusion: 'We are prepared to live
+on little. We are not in the least extravagant: Elsie will rough it.
+Besides, she has her Art----'
+
+'Out of which she makes at present nothing a year.'
+
+'But she will get on--and I may hope, may reasonably hope, some time to
+make an income larger than my present one.'
+
+'You may hope--you may hope. But the position is not hopeful. In fact,
+George Austin, you must marry on ten times your present income, or not
+at all.'
+
+'But I assure you, sir, our ideas are truly modest, and we have made up
+our minds how we can live and pay our way.'
+
+'You think you have. That is to say, you have prepared a table of
+expenses showing how, with twopence to spare, you can live very well on
+two hundred pounds a year. Of course you put down nothing for the
+thousand and one little unexpected things which everybody of your
+education and habits pays for every day.'
+
+'We have provided as far as we can see.'
+
+'Well, it won't do. Of course, I can't forbid the girl to marry you. She
+is of age. I can't forbid you--but I can make it impossible--impossible
+for you, Master Austin--impossible.'
+
+He rapped the table. The words were stern, but the voice was kindly, and
+he smiled again as he spoke. 'You thought you would do without me, did
+you? Well--you shall see--you shall see.'
+
+George received this threat without words, but with a red face, and with
+rising indignation. Still, when one is a servant, one must endure the
+reproofs of the master. He said nothing therefore, but waited.
+
+'I have considered for some time,' Mr. Dering continued, 'how to meet
+this case in a satisfactory manner. At last, I made up my mind. And if
+you will read this document, young gentleman, you will find that I have
+made your foolish proposal to marry on love and nothing else quite
+impossible--quite impossible, sir.' He slapped the table with the paper,
+and tossed it over to George.
+
+George took the paper, and began to read it. Suddenly he jumped out of
+his chair. He sprang to his feet. '_What?_' he cried.
+
+'Go on--go on,' said Mr. Dering benevolently.
+
+'Partnership? Partnership?' George gasped. 'What does it mean?'
+
+'It is, as you say, a Deed of Partnership between myself and yourself.
+The conditions of the Partnership are duly set forth--I hope you will
+see your way to accepting them.--A Deed of Partnership. I do not know
+within a few hundreds what your share may be, but I believe you may
+reckon on at least two thousand for the first year, and more--much
+more--before long.'
+
+'More than a thousand?'
+
+'You have not read the deed through. Call yourself a lawyer? Sit down,
+and read it word for word.'
+
+George obeyed, reading it as if it was a paper submitted to him for
+consideration, a paper belonging to some one else.
+
+'Well? You have read it?'
+
+'Yes; I have read it through.'
+
+'Observe that the Partnership may be dissolved by Death, Bankruptcy, or
+Mutual Consent. I receive two-thirds of the proceeds for life.
+That--alas!--will not be for long.--Well, young man, do you accept this
+offer?'
+
+'Accept? Oh! Accept? What can I do? What can I say--but accept?' He
+walked to the window, and looked out; I suppose he was admiring the
+trees in the square, which were certainly very beautiful in early July.
+Then he returned, his eyes humid.
+
+'Aha!' Mr. Dering chuckled. 'I told you that I would make it impossible
+for you to marry on two hundred pounds a year. I waited till Elsie's
+birthday. Well? You will now be able to revise that little estimate of
+living on two hundred a year. Eh?'
+
+'Mr. Dering,' said George, with breaking voice, 'I cannot believe it; I
+cannot understand it. I have not deserved it.'
+
+'Shake hands, my Partner.'
+
+The two men shook hands.
+
+'Now sit down and let us talk a bit,' said Mr. Dering. 'I am old. I am
+past seventy. I have tried to persuade myself that I am still as fit for
+work as ever. But I have had warnings. I now perceive that they must be
+taken as warnings. Sometimes it is a little confusion of memory--I am
+not able to account for little things--I forget what I did yesterday
+afternoon. I suppose all old men get these reminders of coming decay. It
+means that I must reduce work and responsibility. I might give up
+business altogether and retire: I have money enough and to spare: but
+this is the third generation of a successful House, and I could not bear
+to close the doors, and to think that the Firm would altogether vanish.
+So I thought I would take a partner, and I began to look about me.
+Well--in brief, I came to the conclusion that I should find no young man
+better qualified than yourself for ability and for power of work and for
+all the qualities necessary for the successful conduct of such a House
+as this. Especially I considered the essential of good manners. I was
+early taught by my father that the greatest aid to success is good
+breeding. I trust that in this respect I have done justice to the
+teaching of one who was the most courtly of his time. You belong to an
+age of less ceremony and less respect to rank. But we are not always in
+a barrack or in a club. We are not all comrades or equals. There are
+those below to consider as well as those above. There are women: there
+are old men: you, my partner, have shown me that you can give to each
+the consideration, the deference, the recognition that he deserves. True
+breeding is the recognition of the individual. You are careful of the
+small things which smooth the asperities of business. In no profession,
+not even that of medicine, is a good manner more useful than in ours.
+And this you possess.--It also pleases me,' he added after a pause, 'to
+think that in making you my partner I am also promoting the happiness of
+a young lady I have known all her life.'
+
+George murmured something. He looked more like a guilty schoolboy than a
+man just raised to a position most enviable. His cheeks were flushed and
+his hands trembled. Mr. Dering touched his bell.
+
+'Checkley,' he said, when that faithful retainer appeared, 'I have
+already told you of my intention to take a partner. This is my new
+partner.'
+
+Checkley changed colour. His old eyes--or was George wrong?--flashed
+with a light of malignity as he raised them. It made him feel
+uncomfortable--but only for a moment.
+
+'My partner, Checkley,' repeated Mr. Dering.
+
+'Oh!' His voice was dry and grating. 'Since we couldn't go on as
+before---- Well, I hope you won't repent it.'
+
+'You shall witness the signing of the deed, Checkley. Call in a clerk.
+So--there we have it, drawn, signed, and witnessed. Once more, my
+partner, shake hands.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Elsie retired to her own room after the snub administered to her rising
+spirits. She soon began to sing again, being much too happy to be
+affected by anything so small. She went on with her portrait, preserving
+some, but not all, of the softness and benevolence which she had put
+into it, and thereby producing what is allowed to be an excellent
+portrait, but somewhat flattering. She herself knows very well that it
+is not flattering at all, but even lower than the truth, only the other
+people have never seen the lawyer in an expansive moment.
+
+Now while she was thus engaged, her mind going back every other minute
+to her newly-acquired inheritance, a cab drove up to the house--the door
+flew open, and her lover--her George--flew into her arms.
+
+'You here--George? Actually in the house? Oh! but you know----'
+
+'I know--I know. But I could not possibly wait till this evening. My
+dear child, the most wonderful--the most wonderful thing--the most
+extraordinary thing--in the whole world has happened--a thing we could
+never hope and never ask----'
+
+'Mr. Dering has told you, then?'
+
+'What? Do you know?'
+
+'Mr. Dering told me this morning.--Oh, George! isn't it wonderful?'
+
+'Wonderful? It is like the last chapter of a novel!' This he said
+speaking as a fool, because the only last chapter in life is that in
+which Azrael crosses the threshold.
+
+'Oh, George!--I have been walking in the air--I have been flying--I have
+been singing and dancing. I feel as if I had never before known what it
+was to be happy. Mr. Dering said something about having it
+settled--mind--it's all yours, George--yours as well as mine.'
+
+'Yes,' said George, a little puzzled. 'I suppose in the eyes of the law
+it is mine, but then it is yours as well. All that is mine is yours.
+
+'Oh! Mr. Dering said it was mine in the eyes of the law. What does it
+matter, George, what the stupid old law says?'
+
+'Nothing, my dear--nothing at all.'
+
+'It will be worth five hundred pounds a year very nearly. That, with
+your two hundred pounds a year, will make us actually comfortable after
+all our anxieties.'
+
+'Five hundred a year? It will be worth four times that, I hope.'
+
+'Four times? Oh, no!--that is impossible. But Mr. Dering told me that he
+could hardly get so much as four per cent., and I have made a sum and
+worked it out. Rule for simple interest: multiply the principal by the
+rate per cent., and again by the time, and divide by a hundred. It is
+quite simple. And what makes the sum simpler, you need only take one
+year.'
+
+'What principal, Elsie, by what interest? You are running your little
+head against rules of arithmetic. Here there is no principal and no
+interest. It is a case of proceeds, and then division.'
+
+'We will call it proceeds, if you like, George, but he called it
+interest. Anyhow, it comes to five hundred a year, very nearly; and with
+your two hundred----'
+
+'I don't know what you mean by your five hundred a year. As for my two
+hundred, unless I am very much mistaken, that will very soon be two
+thousand.'
+
+'Your two hundred will become----? George, we are talking across each
+other.'
+
+'Yes. What money of yours do you mean?'
+
+'I mean the twelve thousand pounds that Mr. Dering holds for me--with
+accumulations--accumulations'--she began to sing the rhyme of the
+omnibus wheels--'accumulations--ations--ations.'
+
+'Twelve thousand pounds? Is this fairyland? Twelve thousand----? I
+reel--I faint--I sink--I melt away. Take my hands--both my hands,
+Elsie--kiss me kindly--it's better than brandy--kindly kiss me. Twelve
+thousand pounds! with accumulations----'
+
+'--ations--ations--ations,' she sung. 'Never before, George, have I
+understood the loveliness and the power of money. They were given to Mr.
+Dering by an anonymous person to be held for me--secretly. No one
+knows--not even, yet, my mother.'
+
+'Oh! It is altogether too much--too much: once there was a poor but
+loving couple, and Fortune turned her wheel, and---- You don't
+know--you most unsuspecting ignorant Thing--you can't guess-- Oh, Elsie,
+I am a partner--Mr. Dering's partner!
+
+They caught hands again--then they let go--then they sat down, and gazed
+upon each other.
+
+'Elsie,' said George.
+
+'George,' said Elsie.
+
+'We can now marry like everybody else--but much better. We shall have
+furniture now.'
+
+'All the furniture we shall want, and a house where we please. No
+contriving now--no pinching.'
+
+'No self-denying for each other, my dear.'
+
+'That's a pity, isn't it?--But, George, don't repine. The advantages may
+counterbalance the drawbacks. I think I see the cottage where we were
+going to live. It is in Islington: or near it--Barnsbury, perhaps: there
+is a little garden in front, and one at the back. There is always
+washing hung out to dry. I don't like the smell of suds. For dinner, one
+has cold Australian tinned meat for economy, not for choice. The rooms
+are very small, and the furniture is shabby, because it was cheap and
+bad to begin with. And when you come home--oh, George!'--she stuck her
+forefinger in her chalk, and drew two or three lines on his face--'you
+look like that, so discontented, so grumpy, so gloomy. Oh, my dear, the
+advantages--they do so greatly outbalance the drawbacks; and George--you
+will love your wife all the more--I am sure you will--because she can
+always dress properly and look nice, and give you a dinner that will
+help to rest you from the work of the day.'
+
+Once more this foolish couple fell into each other's arms and kissed
+again with tears and smiles and laughter.
+
+'Who,' asked Mrs. Arundel, ringing the bell up-stairs, 'who is with Miss
+Elsie below?'
+
+On hearing that it was Mr. George Austin, whose presence in the house
+was forbidden, Mrs. Arundel rose solemnly and awfully, and walked down
+the stairs. She had a clear duty before her. When she threw open the
+door, the lovers were hand in hand dancing round the room laughing--but
+the tears were running down Elsie's cheeks.
+
+'Elsie,' said her mother, standing at the open door, 'perhaps you can
+explain this.'
+
+'Permit me to explain,' said George.
+
+'This gentleman, Elsie, has been forbidden the house.'
+
+'One moment,' he began.
+
+'Go, sir.' She pointed majestically to the window.
+
+'Oh!' cried Elsie. 'Tell her, George--tell her; I cannot.' She fell to
+laughing and crying together, but still held her lover by the hand.
+
+'I will have no communication whatever with one who robs me of a
+daughter,' said this Roman matron. 'Will you once more leave the house,
+sir?'
+
+'Mother--you _must_ hear him.'
+
+'Nothing,' said Mrs. Arundel, 'will ever induce me to speak to
+him--nothing.'
+
+'Mother, don't be silly,' Elsie cried; 'you don't know what has
+happened. You _must_ not say such things. You will only be sorry for
+them afterwards.'
+
+'Never--never. One may forgive such a man, but one can never speak to
+him, never--whatever happens--never.' The lady looked almost heroic as
+she waved her right hand in the direction of the man.
+
+'I will go,' said George, 'but not till you have heard me. I am
+rich--Elsie is rich--we shall not marry into poverty. The whole
+situation is entirely changed.'
+
+'Changed,' Elsie repeated, taking George's arm.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'My dear George,' said Mrs. Arundel, when she had heard the whole
+story--and by cross examination persuaded herself that it was true--'you
+know on what a just basis my objections were founded. Otherwise, I
+should have been delighted at the outset.--Kiss me, Elsie.--You have my
+full consent, children. These remarkable events are Providential.--On
+Mr. Dering's death or retirement, you will step into an enormous
+practice. Follow his example. Take no partner till old age compels you.
+Keep all the profits for yourself--all.--My dear George, you should be a
+very happy man. Not so rich, perhaps, as my son-in-law, Sir Samuel, but
+above the ordinary run of common happiness. As for the past---- We will
+now go down to lunch.--There is the bell. These emotions are
+fatiguing.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+IN HONOUR OF THE EVENT
+
+
+May one dwell upon so simple a thing as a small family dinner-party? It
+is generally undramatic and uneventful: it is not generally marked even
+by a new dish or a bottle of rare wine. Yet there lingers in the mind of
+every man the recollection of pleasant dinners. I should like to write a
+Book of Dinners--not a book for the _gourmet_, but a book of memories.
+It might be a most delightful volume. There would be in it the
+school-boys' dinner. I remember a certain dinner at eighteenpence a
+head, at Richmond, before we had the row in the boat, when we quarrelled
+and broke the oars over each other's heads, and very nearly capsized: a
+certain undergraduates' dinner, in which four men--three of whom are now
+ghosts--joined: the Ramblers' dinner, of lamb chops and bottled ale and
+mirth and merriment: the two-by-two dinner in the private room, a dainty
+dinner of sweet lamb, sweet bread, sweet peas, sweet looks, sweet
+Moselle, and sweet words. Is it really true that one never--never--gets
+young again? Some people do, I am sure, but they are under promise to
+say nothing about it. I shall--and then that dinner may perhaps--one
+cannot say--one never knows--and I suppose--if one was young again--that
+they would be found just as pretty as they ever were. There is the
+official dinner, stately and cold: the city dinner, which generally
+comes to a man when his digestion is no longer what it was: the family
+dinner, in which the intellect plays so small a part, because no one
+wastes his fine things on his brothers and sisters: the dinner at which
+one has to make a speech. Indeed, this Book of Dinners promises to be a
+most charming volume. I should attempt it, however, with trembling,
+because, to do it really well, one should be, first of all, a scholar,
+if only to appreciate things said and spoken, and in order to connect
+the illustrious past with food and drink. Next, he ought to be still
+young: he certainly must have a proper feeling for wine, and must
+certainly understand when and why one should be grateful to good Master
+Cook: he should be a past or present master in the Art of Love and a
+squire of Dames: he should be good at conversation: he must, in the old
+language, be a worshipper of Bacchus, Venus, Phoebus Apollo, the Muses
+nine and the Graces three. He must be no poor weakling, unable to enjoy
+the good creatures of flesh, fowl, fish, and wine: no boor: and no log
+insensible to loveliness.
+
+Dinner, which should be a science, has long been treated as one of the
+Fine Arts. Now every Fine Art, as we all know, has its fashions and its
+caprices. Those who are old enough to remember the dinners of twenty,
+thirty, or forty years ago can remember many of their fashions and
+caprices. In the Thirties, for instance, everything was carved upon the
+table. It required a man with a strong wrist to give a dinner-party.
+Fortunately, a dinner then consisted of few dishes. They drank sherry
+with dinner, and port afterwards. The champagne, if there was any, was
+sweet. The guests were bidden for half-past six: they sat down to dinner
+before seven. At eight the ladies went up-stairs: at half-past ten the
+men joined them. Their faces were flushed, their shoulders were inclined
+to lurch, and their speech was the least bit thick. Wonderful to relate,
+brandy-and-water used to be served to these topers in the drawing-room
+itself.
+
+Mr. Dering had altered little in his dinner customs. They mostly
+belonged to the Sixties, with a survival of some belonging to the
+Thirties. Things were carved upon the sideboard: this was in deference
+to modern custom: champagne formed an integral part of the meal: but the
+dinner itself was solid: the cloth after dinner was removed, leaving the
+dark polished mahogany after the old fashion: the furniture of the room
+was also in the old style: the chairs were heavy and solid: the walls
+were hung with a dark crimson paper of velvety texture: the curtains and
+the carpets were red: there were pictures of game and fruit: the
+sideboard was as solid as the table.
+
+Checkley the clerk, who was invited as a faithful servant of the House,
+to the celebration of the new partnership, was the first to arrive.
+Dressed in a hired suit, he looked like an undertaker's assistant: the
+gloom upon his face heightened the resemblance. Why the partnership
+caused this appearance of gloom, I know not. Certainly, he could never
+expect to be made a partner himself. It was perhaps a species of
+jealousy which filled his soul. He would no longer know so much of the
+business.
+
+George came with the Mother-in-law Elect and the _fiancee_. Forgiveness,
+Peace, Amnesty, and Charity sat all together upon the brow of the elder
+lady. She was magnificent in a dark crimson velvet, and she had a good
+deal of gold about her arms and neck. Jewish ladies are said to show, by
+the magnificence of their attire, the prosperity of the business. Why
+not? It is a form of enjoying success. There are many forms: one man
+buys books: let him buy books. Another collects pictures. Why not? One
+woman wears crimson velvet. Why not? In this way she enjoys her wealth
+and proclaims it. Again, why not? It seems to the philosopher a fond and
+vain thing to deck the person at all times, and especially fond when the
+person is middle-aged and no longer beautiful. We are not all
+philosophers. There are many middle-aged men who are extremely happy to
+put on their uniform and their medals and their glittering helmets. Mrs.
+Arundel wore her velvet as if she enjoyed the colour of it, the richness
+of it, the light and shade that lay in its folds, and the soft feel of
+it. She wore it, too, as an outward sign that this was a great occasion.
+Her daughter, Lady Dering, came also arrayed in a queenly dress of amber
+silk with an aigrette of feathers in her hair. To be sure, she was going
+on somewhere after the dinner. Elsie, for her part, came in a creamy
+white almost like a bride: but she looked much happier than most brides.
+Hilda's husband, Sir Samuel, who was some six or seven years younger
+than his brother, was in appearance a typical man of wealth. The rich
+man can no longer, as in the days of good old Sir Thomas Gresham,
+illustrate his riches by costly furs, embroidered doublets, and heavy
+chains. He has to wear broadcloth and black. Yet there is an air, a
+carriage, which belongs to the rich man. In appearance, Sir Samuel was
+tall, like his brother, but not thin like him: he was corpulent: his
+face was red: he was bald, and he wore large whiskers, dyed black.
+The late dissensions were completely forgotten. Hilda embraced her
+sister fondly. 'My dear,' she whispered, 'we have heard all.
+Everything--everything is changed by these fortunate events. They do you
+the greatest credit.--George'--she took his hand and held it
+tenderly--'I cannot tell you how happy this news has made us all. You
+will be rich in the course of years. Sir Samuel was only saying, as we
+came along----'
+
+'I was saying, young gentleman,' the Knight interrupted, 'that the most
+beautiful thing about money is the way it develops character. We do not
+ask for many virtues--only honesty and diligence--from the poor. When a
+man acquires wealth we look for his better qualities.'
+
+'Yes, indeed,' Hilda murmured. 'His better qualities begin to
+show.--Elsie, dear, that is a very pretty frock. I don't think I have
+seen it before. How do you like my dress?'
+
+George accepted this sudden turn in opinion with smiles. He laughed at
+it afterwards. For the moment it made him feel almost as if he was being
+rewarded for some virtuous action.
+
+Dinner was announced at seven--such were the old-fashioned manners of
+this old gentleman. He led in Mrs. Arundel, and placed Elsie on his
+left. At first, the dinner promised to be a silent feast. The two lovers
+were not disposed to talk much--they had not yet recovered from the
+overwhelming and astonishing events of the day. Sir Samuel never talked
+at the beginning of dinner--besides, there was turtle soup and red
+mullet and whitebait--it is sinful to divert your attention from these
+good creatures. His wife never talked at dinner or at any other time
+more than she could help. Your statuesque beauty seldom does. Talking
+much involves smiling and even laughing, which distorts the face. A
+woman must encourage men to talk: this she can do without saying much
+herself.
+
+Presently Mr. Dering roused himself and began to talk, with a visible
+effort, first to Mrs. Arundel of things casual: then to Elsie: and then
+to his brother, but always with an effort, as if he was thinking of
+other things. And a constraint fell upon the party.
+
+When the cloth was removed and the wine and fruit placed upon the dark
+and lustrous board, he filled a glass and made a kind little speech.
+
+'My Partner,'he said, 'I drink to you. May your connection with the
+House be prosperous! It is a very great good fortune for me to have
+found such a Partner.--Elsie, I join you with my Partner. I wish you
+both every happiness.'
+
+He drained the bumper and sent round the decanters.
+
+Then he began to talk, and his discourse was most strange. 'Had it
+been,' said his brother afterwards, 'the idle fancies of some
+crackbrained writing fellow, I could have understood it; but from
+him--from a steady old solicitor--a man who has never countenanced any
+kind of nonsense--to be sure he said it was only an illusion. I hope it
+isn't a softening. Who ever heard of such a man as that having dreams
+and illusions?'
+
+Certainly no one had ever before heard Mr. Dering talk in this new
+manner. As a rule, he was silent and grave even at the head of his own
+table. He spoke little and then gravely. To-night his talk as well as
+his face was changed. Who would have thought that Mr. Dering should
+confess to illusions, and should relate dreams, and should be visited by
+such dreams? Remember that the speaker was seventy-five years of age,
+and that he had never before been known so much as to speak of
+benevolence. Then you will understand something of the bewilderment
+which fell upon the whole company.
+
+He began by raising his head and smiling with a strange and new
+benignity--but Elsie thought of her portrait. 'We are all one family
+here,' he said; 'and I may talk. I want to tell you of a very remarkable
+thing that has recently happened to me. It has been growing, I now
+perceive, for some years. But it now holds me strongly, and it is one
+reason why I am anxious to have the affairs of the House in the hands of
+a younger man. For it may be a sign of the end. At seventy-five anything
+uncommon may be a sign.'
+
+'You look well, Mr. Dering, and as strong as most men of sixty,' said
+Mrs. Arundel.
+
+'Perhaps. I feel well and strong. The fact is that I am troubled--or
+pleased--or possessed--by an Illusion.'
+
+'You with an Illusion?' said his brother.
+
+'I myself. An Illusion possesses me. It whispers me from time to time
+that my life is wholly spent in promoting the happiness of other
+people.'
+
+'Well,' said his brother, 'since you are a first-class solicitor, and
+manage the affairs of many people very much to their advantage, you
+certainly do promote their happiness.'
+
+'Yes, yes--I suppose so. My Illusion further is that it is done outside
+my business--without any bill afterwards'--Checkley looked up with eyes
+wide open--'I am made to believe that I am working and living for the
+good of others. A curious Illusion, is it not?'
+
+The City man shook his head. 'That any man can possibly live for the
+good of others is, I take it, always and under all circumstances an
+Illusion. In the present state of society--and a very admirable state it
+is'--he rolled his bald head as he spoke and his voice had a rich roll
+in it--'a man's first duty--his second duty--his third duty--his
+hundredth duty--is to himself. In the City it is his business to amass
+wealth--to roll it up--roll it up'--he expressed the words with
+feeling--'to invest it profitably--to watch it, and to nurse it as it
+fructifies--fructifies. Afterwards, when he is rich enough, if ever a
+man can be rich enough, he may exercise as much charity as he
+pleases--as he pleases. Charity seems to please some people as a glass
+of fine wine'--he illustrated the comparison--'pleases the
+palate--pleases the palate.'
+
+The lawyer listened politely and inclined his head.
+
+'There is at least some method in my Illusion,' he went on. 'You
+mentioned it. The solicitor is always occupied with the conduct of other
+people's affairs. That must be admitted. He is always engaged in
+considering how best to guide his fellow-man through the labyrinthine
+world. He receives his fellow-man at his entrance into the world, as a
+ward: he receives him grown up, as a client: he advises him all his life
+at every step and in every emergency. If the client goes into
+partnership, or marries, or buys a house, or builds one, or gets into
+trouble, the solicitor assists and advises him. When the client grows
+old, the solicitor makes his will. When the client dies, the solicitor
+becomes his executor and his trustee, and administers his estate for
+him. It is thus a life, as I said, entirely spent for other people. I
+know not of any other, unless it be of medicine, that so much can be
+said. And think what terrors, what anxieties, what disappointments, the
+solicitor witnesses and alleviates! Think of the family scandals he
+hushes up and keeps secret! Good heavens! if a solicitor in large
+practice were to tell what he knows, think of the terrible disclosures!
+He knows every thing. He knows more than a Roman Catholic priest,
+because his penitents not only reveal their own sins but also those of
+their wives and sons and friends and partners. And anxiety, I may tell
+you, makes a man better at confessing than penitence. Sometimes we bring
+actions at law and issue writs and so forth. Well now: this part of our
+business, which is disagreeable to us, is actually the most beneficent
+of any. Because, by means of the cases brought before the High Court of
+Justice, we remind the world that it must be law abiding as well as law
+worthy. The Law, in order to win respect, must first win fear. Force
+comes before order. The memory of force must be kept up. The presence
+of force must be felt. For instance, I have a libel case just begun. It
+is rather a bad libel. My libeller will suffer: he will bleed: but he
+will bleed for the public good, because thousands who are only anxious
+to libel and slander, to calumniate and defame their neighbours, will be
+deterred. Oh! it will be a most beneficent case--far reaching--striking
+terror into the hearts of ill-doers.--Well--this, my friends, is my
+Illusion. It is, I suppose, one of the many Illusions with which we
+cheat old age and rob it of its terrors. To everybody else I am a
+hard-fisted lawyer, exacting his pound of flesh from the unfortunate
+debtor, and making myself rich at the expense of the creditor.'
+
+'Nonsense about how a man gets rich,' said the man of business. 'He can
+only get rich if he is capable. Quite right. Let the weak go under. Let
+the careless and the lazy starve.'
+
+'At the same time,' said Elsie softly, 'it is not all illusion. There
+are others besides the careless and the lazy----'
+
+'Sometimes,' the old lawyer went on, 'this Illusion of mine--oh! I know
+it is only Illusion--takes the form of a dream--so vivid that it comes
+back to me afterwards as a reality. In this dream, which is always the
+same, I seem to have been engaged in some great scheme of practical
+benevolence.'
+
+'Practical---- What? You engaged in Practical Benevolence?' the City man
+asked in profound astonishment. The Illusion was astonishing enough; but
+to have his brother talk of practical benevolence was amazing indeed.
+
+'Practical benevolence,' repeated Mr. Dering. His voice dropped. His
+eyes looked out into space: he seemed as one who narrates a story. 'It
+is a curiously persistent dream. It comes at irregular intervals; it
+pleases me while it lasts.--Oh! in the evening after dinner, while one
+takes a nap in the easy chair, perhaps--it is, as I said, quite vivid.
+The action of this dream always takes place in the same room--a large
+room, plainly furnished, and looking out upon an open space--I should
+know it if I saw it--and it fills me with pleasure--in my dream--just to
+feel that I am--there is no other word for it--diffusing happiness. How
+I manage this diffusion, I can never remember; but there it is--good
+solid happiness, such as, in waking moments, one feels to be
+impossible.'
+
+'Diffusing happiness--you!' said his brother.
+
+'A very beautiful dream,' said Elsie. But no one dared to look in each
+other's face.
+
+'This strange dream of mine,' continued Mr. Dering, 'does not form part
+of that little Illusion, though it seems connected with it. And as I
+said, mostly it comes in the evening. The other day, however, I had it
+in the afternoon--went to sleep in my office, I suppose.--Did you find
+me asleep, Checkley? It was on Friday.'
+
+'No. On Friday afternoon you went out.'
+
+'Ah! When I came back, then-- I had forgotten that I went out. Did I go
+out? Strange! Never mind. This continuous dream opens up a world of new
+ideas and things which are, I perceive, when I am awake, quite unreal
+and illusory. Yet they please. I see myself, as I said, diffusing
+happiness with open hands. The world which is thus made happier consists
+entirely of poor people. I move among them unseen: I listen to them: I
+see what they do, and I hear what they say. Mind--all this is as real
+and true to me as if it actually happened. And it fills me with
+admiration of the blessed state of poverty. In my dream I pity the rich,
+with all my heart. To get rich, I think--in this dream--they must have
+practised so many deceptions----'
+
+'Brother! brother!' Sir Samuel held up both hands.
+
+'In my dream--only in my dream. Those who inherit riches are burdened
+with the weight of their wealth, which will not suffer them to enter
+into the arena; will not allow them to develop and to exercise their
+talents, and afflicts them with the mental and bodily diseases that
+belong to indolence. The poor, on the other hand, who live from day to
+day, sometimes out of work for weeks together, practise easily the
+simple virtues of brotherly love, charity, and mutual helpfulness. They
+have learned to combine for the good of all rather than to fight, one
+against another, for selfish gain. It is the only world where all are
+borrowing and lending, giving and helping.'
+
+'Brother, this dream of yours is like a socialistic tract.'
+
+'It may be. Yet you see how strongly it takes hold of me, that while I
+see the absurdity of the whole thing, it is not unpleasing to recall the
+recollection of it. Well--I do not know what set me talking about this
+dream.'
+
+The smiles left his face: he became grave again: he ceased to talk: for
+the rest of the evening he was once more the old solicitor, weighed down
+with the affairs of other people.
+
+'Checkley'--it was on the doorstep, and Sir Samuel waited while his wife
+said a few fond things to her sister--'what the devil came over my
+brother to-night?'
+
+'I don't know indeed, Sir Samuel. I never heard him talk like that
+before. Doin' good to 'em? Servin' a writ upon 'em is more our line. I
+think he must be upset somewhere in his inside, and it's gone to his
+head.'
+
+'Practical benevolence! Living for other people! Have you heard him
+complain of anything?'
+
+'No, Sir Samuel. He never complains. Eats hearty, walks upright and
+strong, works like he always has worked.--Doin' good! And the
+blessedness of being pore! Seems most wonderful. Blessedness of being
+pore! Well, Sir Samuel, I've enjoyed that blessedness myself, and I know
+what it's like. Any or'nary preachin' chap might talk that nonsense; but
+for your eminent brother, Sir Samuel, such a lawyer as him--to be
+talking such stuff--if I may humbly so speak of my learned master's
+words--it is--Sir Samuel--it really is amazing!'
+
+'He said it was a dream, remember. But I agree with you, Checkley.--It
+is amazing.'
+
+'Humph! The blessedness of being pore! And over such a glass of port,
+too! I thought I should ha' rolled off my chair--I did, indeed.--Here's
+your good lady, Sir Samuel.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'Elsie,' said Mrs. Arundel in the carriage, 'I think it was high time
+that Mr. Dering should take a partner. He to dream of practical
+benevolence! He to be diffusing happiness with open hands! Oh! most
+lamentable--I call it. However, the deeds are signed, and we are all
+right. In case of anything happening, it is a comfort to think that
+George's position would be only improved.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+AT THE GATES OF PARADISE
+
+
+Many women have advanced the doctrine that the happiest time of life is
+that of their engagement. Of course no man can possibly understand this
+theory; but from a woman's point of view it can be defended, because it
+is for some girls the most delightful thing in the world to be wooed;
+and until the church service is actually said and the ring is on the
+finger, the bride is Queen and Mistress; afterwards--not always. But the
+happiness of it depends upon its being a courtship without obstacles.
+Now, in the case of the young couple whose fortunes we are following,
+there was plenty of love with excellent wooing; but the engagement had
+been opposed by the whole tribe of Arundels, so that every time she met
+her lover it was in open rebellion against her mother. To go home from a
+walk with him only to find the silence of resentment at home was not
+pleasant. Again, we have seen how they were looking forward to a life of
+poverty--even of privation. Dame Penury with her pinching ways and
+shrewish tongue was going to be their constant lodger. Then the young
+man could not choose but ask himself whether he was not a selfish beast
+to take a girl out of plenty into privation. And the girl could not
+choose but ask herself whether she was not selfish in laying this great
+burden upon the back of her lover. No one can be indifferent to such a
+prospect: no one can contemplate with pleasure the cheeseparings, the
+savings, the management of such a life: no one can like having to make a
+penny do the work of sixpence: no one can rejoice as one steps down,
+down, down the social ladder: no one can anticipate with satisfaction
+the loss of gentlehood for the daughters, and the loss of an adequate
+education for the sons.
+
+'You will make me happy,' said the lover, 'at the cost of everything
+that makes life happy for yourself.'
+
+'If I make you happy,' said the girl, 'I ask for nothing more. But oh! I
+am laying a heavy burden upon you. Can you bear it? Will you never blame
+me if the burden is greater than you can bear?'
+
+And now all the trouble vanished like a cloud from the morning
+sky--vanished so completely that there was not a trace of it left
+anywhere. The accusing figure of her mother was changed into a smiling
+face of pleased and satisfied maternity: reproaches were turned into
+words of endearment, angry looks to presents and caresses. And as for
+her sister, you might have thought that all this good fortune was
+actually achieved and conquered by Elsie--otherwise, how could one
+justify the praise and flattery that Hilda now lavished upon her? She
+gave a great dinner as a kind of official reception of the bridegroom
+into the family; she also gave a dance, at which she herself was the
+most beautiful woman--she stood in a conspicuous place all the evening,
+magnificently dressed, statuesque, wonderful: and Elsie was the
+prettiest girl at the party; but between the most beautiful woman and
+the prettiest girl was a difference! There is nothing like good fortune
+to bring out a girl's good qualities: Elsie had always had friends, now
+she might have numbered them by hundreds. Good fortune breeds friends as
+the sunshine creates the flowers. She was congratulated, caressed, and
+flattered enough to turn her head. Now, girls are so constituted that
+they love admiration, which is a kind of affection, even when it takes
+the form of flattery: and their heads may be easily turned; but they are
+as easily turned back again. And the house--the widow's house--which for
+so many years had been so dull and quiet a place, was transformed into a
+place of entertainment. It only wanted coloured lamps to make it another
+Vauxhall: it was crowded every night with the younger friends of bride
+and bridegroom. George had many friends. He was gregarious by nature: he
+was a rowing man on the athletic side: he had a healthy love and a light
+hand for things like billiards, shooting, and fishing: they are tastes
+which assist in the creation of friendships.
+
+These friends--young fellows of like mind--came to the house in
+multitudes to rally round the man about to desert their ranks. Young men
+are forgiving: George would row no more among them: he would be lost to
+the billiard table, and to the club itself: yet they forgave him, and
+accepted his invitation and went to see the bride. They found her with
+the friends of her own age. Heavens! how the daring of one man in taking
+away a maiden from the band encourages others! There are six love
+stories at least, all rising out of these evenings, and all of
+surpassing interest, had one the time to write them. They are both grave
+and gay: there are tears in every one: the course of true love in no
+case ran smooth except in the Story of the Two Stupids. Love's enemies
+can never effect aught against a Stupid, and so these two Stupids became
+engaged without opposition, and were married with acclamations; but they
+are too Stupid--perhaps--to know their own happiness.
+
+All this went on for three weeks. It was arranged that the happy pair
+should be married in the middle of August: they had resolved to spend
+their honeymoon in France, staying a few days in Paris, and then going
+on to see the towns and the country along the Loire, with the old city
+of Tours for their centre. They proposed to live entirely upon fruit and
+wine and kisses. No place in the world like Touraine for those who are
+so young, and so much in love, and so perfectly satisfied with so simple
+a diet. Even for those who take a cutlet with the fruit and the wine,
+there is no place equal to Touraine. Meantime, against the home-coming,
+a desirable flat was secured, not one of your little economical flats,
+all drawing-room with two or three rabbit-hutches for bedrooms, but a
+large and highly decorated flat with all the newest appliances, large
+rooms, and a lift and plenty of space for the dinner-parties and
+receptions which Elsie would have to give. The servants were engaged.
+The furniture was ordered, all in the advanced taste of the
+day--carpets, curtains, pictures, over-mantels, cabinets, screens. Elsie
+went every day to her new home and found something omitted, and sat down
+in it to wonder what it would be like--this new life she was entering
+upon. Oh! it was a busy time.--Then there was her trousseau--everybody
+knows the amount of thought and care required for a trousseau: this was
+approaching completion--everybody knows the happiness, peculiar, and
+unlike any other kind of happiness, with which a girl contemplates a
+heap of 'things,' all her own. I suppose that it is only at her wedding
+that she can enjoy this happiness, for afterwards, the 'things' are not
+her own, but the things of the family. The bride's dress, another thing
+of supreme importance, had been tried on, though as yet it was very,
+very far from being finished. The bridesmaids, two of George's sisters,
+had also already tried on their dresses. They came every day, two very
+sweet girls, who have both to do with those six love stories which will
+never, I fear, be told, to talk over the events and to see the presents.
+These came in daily, and were laid out in a room by themselves, looking
+very splendid: their splendour proved the wealth and the position of the
+pair, because rich presents are only given to rich people.
+
+In a word, everybody was heartily, loyally sympathetic, as if to make up
+for the previous harshness and coldness. For four weeks this happiness
+lasted! It was on Monday, June 29, that the golden shower descended upon
+them: it was on Monday, July 20, that the rain of gold ceased, and
+another kind of cloud came up which speedily changed into a driving
+storm of rain and sleet and hail and ice and snow.
+
+Look at them on Sunday. Before the storm there is generally a brief time
+of sunshine, warm and fine: after the storm, the calm that follows is a
+time of dismay, speechless and tearless. Sunday was the day before the
+storm: it was a day of sunshine without and within. The lovers spent the
+whole day together, hand in hand. They went to church together: they sat
+side by side, they warbled off the same hymn book. The service proved,
+as the preacher used to say, a season of refreshment, for never doth
+religion so uplift the soul as when it is entirely happy: the voices of
+the choir chanting the psalms filled them with joy, and would have done
+so even if they had been penitential minors, and the lamentation of a
+sinner. Their hearts rose higher and higher as the preacher exhorted,
+and would have flown upwards just as much whether he had brandished the
+terrors of the law or held out the gracious promise of the Gospel. For
+you see, at such a time as this, whatever was said or done only led this
+faithful pair farther and deeper into the shady glades and fragrant
+lawns and flowery dells of Love's Paradise.
+
+Every church, at every service, and especially in the evening, contains
+many such lovers. You may know them by certain infallible signs. They
+sit very close together: they sing off the same book: their faces betray
+by the rigidity of their attitude, which is that of pretended attention,
+the far-away expression of their eyes, and the absence of any external
+sign of emotion or sympathy with the preacher, that their hands, beneath
+some folds of the feminine gabardine, are closely clasped. It has
+sometimes pleased the philosopher and relieved the tedium of a dull
+sermon to look round the congregation and to pick out the lovers--here a
+pair and there a pair. Even in the church, you see, Love is conqueror
+and king.
+
+These lovers, therefore, went to church in a frame of mind truly
+heavenly: nobody in the whole congregation felt more deeply pious: every
+response was an Act of Praise: every prayer an Act of Gratitude: every
+hymn a personal Thank-offering. But beneath those seemingly calm faces
+was flying and rushing a whirlwind of hopes, memories, plans, projects,
+and gratitudes. He who looks back upon the days immediately before his
+wedding-day--most men no more remember their own emotions than a child
+remembers yesterday's earache--will wonder how he lived through that
+time of change, when all that he prayed for was granted, but on the
+condition of a turning upside down of all his habits, customs, and
+petted ways.
+
+All round them sat the people, no doubt with minds wholly attuned to the
+service of Prayer and Praise. Well, the sheep in a flock to outward
+seeming are all alike, yet every animal has his own desires and small
+ambitions for himself. So I suppose with the congregation. As every man
+shuts the street door behind him and trudges along the way to
+church--the _Via Sacra_--with wife and children, he carries in his
+waistcoat pocket, close to his heart, a little packet of business cares
+to think upon during the sermon. And if all the thoughts of all the
+people could be collected after the sermon instead of the offertory,
+they would make a salutary oblation indeed.
+
+'George,' said Elsie, as they came out, 'let us go into the Gardens and
+sit under a tree and talk. Let us get away from everybody for half an
+hour.'
+
+Kensington Gardens were filled with the customary throng of those who,
+like themselves, had been to church. The carping philosopher says unkind
+things about Church, and Gardens, and Fashion. As if Church would ever
+keep like from congregating with like! There were shoals of beautiful
+girls, dressed as well as they knew or could afford: dozens of young
+fellows, and with them the no longer quite so young, the no longer
+young, the no longer young at all, the middle-aged, the elderly and the
+old, not to speak of the children. Elsie looked up and down the walk.
+'We are never so much alone as in a crowd,' she said, with the air that
+some girls assume of saying an original thing which no woman ever did
+say yet, unless by accident. They joined the stream: presently George
+led the girl out of the road and across the grass to a place where two
+or three chairs were set under the trees. They sat down. Then occurred
+the miracle wrought in these gardens every day and all day long. Out of
+the ground sprang a man--for such he seemed, though doubtless a
+spirit-messenger--who demanded twopence. This paid, he vanished
+straightway. After this ceremony they talked.
+
+'George,' said the girl, 'every day now, wherever I am, even at church,
+I feel as if I should like to jump up and sing and dance. This morning I
+should have liked a service all to ourselves--you to read and I to sing:
+you to pray and I to praise. I kept wondering if there was any girl in
+the place so happy as myself--or so unhappy as I was three short weeks
+ago.'
+
+'Elsie,' said George--a simple thing to say, but it had a thousand
+meanings.
+
+'We have not deserved it. Indeed, indeed--we have not. Why are we
+singled out for such joy? We already had the greatest thing of all--we
+had love. That is happiness enough for some women. We only wanted a
+little more money, and now we have all this great fortune.'
+
+'It is wonderful, Elsie!'
+
+She laid her hand on his and spoke in her sweet low voice, gazing
+upwards. 'George! I am so happy, that I want everybody else to be happy
+as well. The angels, I am sure, must lose some of their joy in wishing
+that all were with them. I pity all those poor girls who have no lovers:
+all those poor married people who are lying in poverty: all those poor
+creatures who are trying for what they cannot get; all those who are
+weeping outside the gates of Heaven. George, it is a beautiful world,
+and it should be such a happy world: there should be nothing but joy all
+through life. There is such an abundance of happiness possible in it.
+Sadness is only a passing cloud: anxiety is only a touch of east wind:
+evil and pain are only fleeting shadows.'
+
+She sighed and clasped her hands, and the tears rose to her eyes.
+
+'We shall grow old together, George,' she went on, murmuring rather than
+speaking.--I omit her lover's interruptions and interjections.--'You
+will always love me, long after my beauty--you know you will call it
+beauty, George--is past and gone: even when I am a poor old crone
+doubled up in my arm-chair: you will always love me. My life will be
+full--full--full of love. Perhaps----' Here her face flushed, and she
+stopped. 'We shall have no trouble about money: we shall go on always
+learning more and more, growing wiser and wiser and wiser. You will be a
+wise and good man, thinking and working all your life for other people,
+just as Mr. Dering imagined--three weeks ago. Everybody will love and
+respect you. Then you will grow grey-headed, you poor, dear boy; and all
+the world will say how wise and strong you are; and I shall be prouder
+of my old husband than even I was of my young lover. The life that
+others have dreamed, we shall live. Every day shall come laden with its
+own joy, so that we would not, if we could help it, suffer it to go
+away.' She struck a deeper note, and her voice trembled and sank and her
+eyes filled with tears: 'Life shall be all happiness, as God intended
+for us. Even Death will be little sorrow, for the separation will be so
+short.' Once more she laid her hand on his.
+
+Even to the most frivolous, the prospect of the wedded life awakens
+grave and solemn thoughts: for those who have eyes to see and ears to
+hear and brains to understand, there is no prospect so charged with
+chances and possibilities, where even life itself may become a Death in
+Life.
+
+When George left her in the evening, he drove to see Athelstan.
+
+'So,' he said, 'you have been courting all day, I suppose. You ought to
+have had enough of it. Sit down and have something--a pipe--a
+cigar.--Well--you are going to be very jolly, I suppose. Elsie's little
+fortune will help a bit, won't it?'
+
+'I should think so, indeed.'
+
+'Yes--I've been very glad, ever since you told me that the child had had
+this stroke of luck. I wonder who gave her the money? To be sure, there
+is plenty of money knocking about among the Arundels. Most of us have
+had a sort of instinct for making money. Put us down anywhere among a
+lot of men in a city, and we begin to transfer the contents of their
+pockets to our own.'
+
+'Meanwhile, give up this old resentment. Come back to your own people.
+Come to our wedding.'
+
+'I cannot possibly, unless you will tell me who forged that cheque. How
+could I go back to people who still believe me guilty? When you are
+married, I will go and see Elsie, which I can do with a light heart. You
+have not told any one about my return?'
+
+'Certainly not. No one suspects, and no one talks or thinks about you.'
+
+Athelstan laughed a little. 'That is a doubtful piece of information. Am
+I to rejoice or to weep, because I am completely forgotten and out of
+mind? It is rather humiliating, isn't it?'
+
+'You are not forgotten at all. That is a different thing. Only they do
+not speak of you.'
+
+'Well, George, never mind that now. I am glad you came to-night, because
+I have some news for you. I have found the commissionaire who took the
+cheque to the Bank--actually found the man.'
+
+'No! After all these years?'
+
+'I wrote out the particulars of the case--briefly. Yesterday I took the
+paper to the commissionaires' barrack in the Strand and offered a reward
+for the recovery of the man who had cashed the cheque. That same evening
+the man presented himself and claimed the reward. He remembered the
+thing very well--for this reason: the gentleman who employed him first
+sent him with a bag to a Parcel Delivery Office: he did not look at the
+address. The gentleman was staying at the Cecil Hotel. Now the
+commissionaire was a one-armed man. Because he had only one arm, the
+gentleman--who was a pleasant-spoken gentleman--gave him ten shillings
+for his trouble, which was nine shillings more than his proper pay. The
+gentleman sent him to the Bank with this cheque to cash, and he returned
+with seven hundred and twenty pounds in ten-pound notes. Then it was
+that the gentleman--who seems to have been a free-handed gentleman--gave
+him the ten shillings. The man says that he would know that gentleman
+anywhere. He was old, and had grey hair. He says that he should know him
+wherever he saw him. What do you think of that?'
+
+'Well--it is something, if you could find that old man.'
+
+'Why, of course it was Checkley--grey-haired Checkley. We'll catch that
+old fox, yet. Beware of Checkley. He's a Fox. He's a Worm. He's a
+creeping Centipede. When the old man goes, you must make Checkley
+pack.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+A MYSTERIOUS DISCOVERY
+
+
+On Monday morning the Unexpected happened. It came with more than common
+malignity. In fact, nothing more threatening to the persons chiefly
+concerned in the calamity could have happened, though at first they were
+happily spared the comprehension of its full significance.
+
+There is a wide-spread superstition--so wide that it must be true--that
+at those rare moments when one feels foolishly happy, at peace with all
+the world, at peace with one's own conscience, all injuries forgiven,
+the future stretched out before like a sunlit peaceful lake, some
+disaster, great or small, is certainly imminent. 'Don't feel too happy,'
+says Experience Universal. The Gods resent the happiness of man. Affect
+a little anxiety. Assume a certain sadness. Restrain that dancing leg.
+If you must shake it, do so as if by accident, or as if in terror--for
+choice, shake it over an open grave in the churchyard. Stop singing that
+song of joy; try the Lamentation of a Sinner instead. So will the Gods
+be deceived. Above all, never allow yourself to believe that the Devil
+is dead. He is not even asleep. By carefully observing these
+precautions, a great many misfortunes may be averted. If, for instance,
+George had gone home soberly on Sunday night instead of carrying on like
+a schoolboy in playtime, obviously happy, and so inviting calamity,
+perhaps he would never have been connected--as he afterwards
+became--with this disaster.
+
+You have heard that Mr. Dering was a man of method. Every morning he
+arrived at his office at a quarter before ten: he hung up his coat and
+hat in a recess behind the door: he then opened his safe with his own
+hand. Checkley had already laid out the table with a clean blotting-pad,
+pens, and letter-paper: he had also placed the letters of the day upon
+the pad. The reading of the letters began the day's work. The lawyer
+read them, made notes upon them, rang for his shorthand clerk, and
+dictated answers. These dispatched, he turned to the standing business.
+This morning, with the usual routine, he was plodding through the
+letters of the day, taking up one after the other, and reading half
+mechanically. Presently he opened one, and looked at the heading. 'Ellis
+& Northcote,' he said. 'What do they want?' Then he suddenly stopped
+short and started. Then he began the letter again, and again he stopped
+short. It was from his brokers in the City, and it recommended a certain
+advantageous investment. That was not in itself very extraordinary. But
+it contained the following remarkable passage: 'You have made such great
+transfers and so many sales during the last few months that you have
+probably more profitable uses for money in your own business. But if you
+should have a few thousands available at the present moment, it is a
+most favourable opportunity----'
+
+'Great transfers and many sales?' asked Mr. Dering, bewildered. 'What
+transfers? What sales does he mean?'
+
+He turned over the pages of his Diary. He could find no transactions of
+the kind at all. Then he reflected again. 'I can remember no transfers,'
+he murmured. 'Is this another trick of memory?'
+
+Finally, he touched the bell upon his table.
+
+'Checkley,' said Mr. Dering, on the appearance of the ancient clerk, 'I
+have got a letter that I don't understand at all. I told you that my
+memory was going. Now you see. Here is a letter about transfers and
+sales of stock. What transfers? I don't understand one word of it. My
+memory is not only going--it is gone.'
+
+'Memory going? Nonsense,' the old man shook his head. 'No--no; your
+memory is all right. Mine is as clear as a bell. So's yours. You eat
+hearty. So do I. You sleep well. So do I. We're both as hale and hearty
+as ever.'
+
+'No--no. My memory is not what it was. I've told you so a dozen times. I
+lose myself sometimes. Yesterday, when the clock struck twelve, I
+thought it was only ten. I had lost two hours. And sometimes when I walk
+home, I lose recollection of the walk afterwards.'
+
+'Tut, tut; nobody of your age is such a young man as you. Why, you walk
+like five-and-twenty. And you eat hearty--you eat very hearty.' His
+words were encouraging, but he looked anxiously at his master. Truly,
+there was no apparent decay in Mr. Dering. He sat as upright: he looked
+as keen: he spoke as clearly, as ever.
+
+'Well--about this letter. My friend Ellis, of Ellis & Northcote, writes
+to me about something or other, and speaks of my effecting great
+transfers and sales of stock lately. What does he mean?'
+
+'You haven't bought or sold any stock lately, that I know of.'
+
+'Well, you would have known.--Have we had to make any investments for
+clients of late? There was the Dalton-Smith estate.'
+
+'That was eleven months ago.'
+
+'I suppose he must mean that--he can't mean anything else. Yes, that is
+it. Well--I've got a Partner now, so that it matters less than it would
+have done--had my memory played me tricks with no other responsible man
+in the place.'
+
+'You didn't want a partner,' said Checkley jealously. 'You had ME.'
+
+'He must mean that,' Mr. Dering repeated. 'He can't mean anything else.
+However--has my Bank book been made up lately?'
+
+'Here it is. Made up last Friday. Nothing been in or out since.'
+
+Mr. Dering had not looked at his book for three or four months. He was
+well served: his people took care of his Bank book. Now he opened it,
+and began to run his finger up and down the pages.
+
+'Checkley,' he said, 'what has happened to Newcastle Corporation Stock?
+The dividends were due some weeks ago. They are not paid yet. Is the
+town gone bankrupt? And--eh? Where is Wolverhampton? And--and----' He
+turned over the paper quickly. 'Checkley, there is something wrong with
+the book. Not a single dividend of anything entered for the last four
+months. There ought to have been about six hundred pounds in that time.'
+
+'Queer mistake,' said Checkley. 'I'll take the book round to the Bank,
+and have it corrected.'
+
+'A very gross and careless mistake, I call it. Tell the manager I said
+so. Let it be set right at once, Checkley--at once--and while you wait.
+And bring it back to me.'
+
+The Bank was in Chancery Lane, close to the office. The old clerk went
+off on his errand.
+
+'A very careless mistake,' the lawyer repeated; 'any clerk of mine who
+committed such a mistake should be dismissed at once.' In fact, the
+certainty of full and speedy justice kept Mr. Dering's clerks always at
+a high level of efficiency.
+
+He returned to the letters, apparently with no further uneasiness.
+
+After ten minutes, Checkley taking longer than he expected, Mr. Dering
+became aware that his attention was wandering. 'Great transfers and many
+sales,' he repeated. 'After all, he must mean the investment of that
+Dalton-Smith money. Yet that was only a single transaction. What can he
+mean? He must have made a mistake. He must be thinking of another
+client. It's his memory, not mine, that is confused. That's it--his
+memory.'
+
+The large open safe in the corner was filled with stacks of paper tied
+up and endorsed. These papers contained, among other things, the
+securities for the whole of Mr. Dering's private fortune, which was now
+very considerable. Even the greatest City magnate would feel for Mr.
+Dering the respect due to wealth if he knew the amount represented by
+the contents of that safe. There they were, the leases, agreements,
+mortgages, deeds, bonds, conveyances, shares, all the legal documents by
+which the wicked man is prevented from seizing and appropriating the
+rich man's savings. Formerly the rich man kept his money in a box with
+iron bands. He locked up the box and put it in a recess in the cellar
+contrived in the stone wall. If he was only a bourgeois, it was but a
+little box, and he put it in a secret place (but everybody knew the
+secret) at the head of his bed. If he were a peasant, he tied his money
+up in a clout and put it under the hearthstone. In any case, thieves
+broke in and stole those riches. Now, grown wiser, he has no box of
+treasures at all: he lends it all in various directions and to various
+associations and companies. Every rich man is a money-lender: he is
+either Shylock the Great or Shylock the Less, according to the amount he
+lends. Thieves can steal nothing but paper which is no use to them. As
+we grow wiser still, we shall have nothing at all in any house that can
+be of any use to any thief, because everything in the least valuable
+will have its papers, without the production of which nothing of value
+will be bought or sold. And all the gold and silver, whether forks or
+mugs, will be lodged in the Bank. Then everybody will become honest, and
+the Eighth Commandment will be forgotten.
+
+Among Mr. Dering's papers were share certificates, bonds, and scrip of
+various kinds, amounting in all to a great many thousands. Of this money
+a sum of nearly thirteen thousand pounds belonged to Elsie, but was
+still in her guardian's name. This, of course, was the fortune which had
+fallen so unexpectedly into the girl's hands. The rest, amounting to
+about twenty-five thousand pounds, was his own money. It represented of
+course only a part, only a small part, of his very respectable fortune.
+
+Mr. Dering, whose memory, if it was decaying, was certainly clear on
+some points, looked across the room at the open safe, and began to think
+of the papers representing their investments. He remembered perfectly
+all the different Corporation Stock. All the water, gas, railway shares,
+the Indian Stock and the Colonial Stock: the Debenture companies and the
+Trading companies. He was foolish, he thought, to be disturbed by a mere
+mistake of the broker: his recent lapses of memory had made him nervous:
+there could be nothing wrong: but that clerk at the Bank ought to be
+dismissed for carelessness. There could be nothing wrong: for the sake
+of assurance he would turn out the papers: but there could be nothing
+wrong.
+
+He knew very well where they were; everything in his office had its
+place: they were all tied up together in a bulky parcel, bestowed upon a
+certain shelf or compartment of the safe. He pushed back his chair, got
+up, and walked over to the safe.
+
+Strange! The papers were not in their place. Again he felt the former
+irritation at having forgotten something. It was always returning: every
+day he seemed to be forgetting something. But the certificates must be
+in the safe. He stood irresolutely looking at the piles of papers,
+trying to think how they could have been displaced. While he was thus
+wondering and gazing, Checkley came back, Bank-book in hand.
+
+'There is something wrong,' he said. 'No dividends at all have been paid
+to your account for the last three months. There is no mistake at the
+Bank. I've seen the manager, and he's looked into it, and says there
+can't be any mistake about the entries.'
+
+'No dividends? What is the meaning of it, Checkley? No dividends? Why,
+there's thirty-eight thousand pounds worth of stock. The certificates
+are kept here in the safe; only, for some reason or other, I can't find
+them at the moment. They must be in the safe somewhere. Just help me to
+find them, will you?'
+
+He began to search among the papers, at first a little anxiously, then
+nervously, then feverishly.
+
+'Where are they?' he cried, tossing over the bundles. 'They must be
+here. They must be here. Let us turn out the whole contents of the safe.
+We must find them. They have never been kept in any other place. Nobody
+has touched them or seen them except myself.'
+
+The old clerk pulled out all the papers in the safe and laid them in a
+great pile on the table. When there was nothing left in the safe, they
+began systematically to go through the whole. When they had finished,
+they looked at each other blankly.
+
+Everything was there except the certificates and scrip representing the
+investment of thirty-eight thousand pounds. These alone could not be
+found. They examined every packet: they opened every bundle of papers:
+they looked into every folded sheet of parchment or foolscap. The
+certificates were not in the safe. 'Well,' said the clerk at last,
+'they're not here, you see.--Now then!'
+
+In the midst of their perplexity happened a thing almost as surprising
+and quite as unexpected as the loss of the certificates. Among the
+papers was a small round parcel tied up with red tape. Checkley opened
+it. 'Bank-notes,' he said, and laid it aside. They were not at the
+moment looking for bank-notes, but for certificates. When he was
+satisfied that these were not in the safe, and had thrown, so to speak,
+the responsibility of finding out the cause of their absence upon his
+master, he took up once more this bundle. It was, as he had said, a
+bundle of bank-notes rolled up and tied round. He untied the knot and
+laid them flat, turning up the corners and counting. 'Curious,' he said;
+'they're all ten-pound notes--all ten-pound notes: there must be more
+than fifty of them. And the outside one is covered with dust. What are
+they?'
+
+'How should I know?' said Mr. Dering irritably. 'Give them to me.
+Bank-notes? There are no bank-notes in my safe.'
+
+'Forgotten!' the clerk murmured. 'Clients' money, perhaps. But the
+client would have asked for it. Five or six hundred pounds. How can five
+hundred pounds be forgotten? Even a Rothschild would remember five
+hundred pounds. Forgotten!' He glanced suspiciously at his master, and
+shook his head, fumbling among the papers.
+
+Mr. Dering snatched the bundle from his clerk. Truly, they were
+bank-notes--ten-pound bank-notes; and they had been forgotten. The clerk
+was right. There is no Firm in the world where a bundle worth five
+hundred pounds could be forgotten and no inquiry made after it. Mr.
+Dering stared blankly at them. 'Notes!' he cried--'notes! Ten-pound
+notes. What notes?--Checkley, how did these notes come here?'
+
+'If you don't know,' the clerk replied, 'nobody knows. You've got the
+key of the safe.'
+
+'Good Heavens!' If Mr. Dering had been twenty years younger, he would
+have jumped. Men of seventy-five are not allowed to jump. The dignity of
+age does not allow of jumping. 'This is most wonderful! Checkley, this
+is most mysterious!'
+
+'What is it?'
+
+'These notes--the Devil is in the safe to-day, I do believe. First the
+certificates are lost; that is, they can't be found--and next these
+notes turn up.'
+
+'What notes are they, then?'
+
+'They are nothing else than the bank-notes paid across the counter for
+that forged cheque of eight years ago. Oh! there is no doubt of it--none
+whatever. I remember the numbers--the consecutive numbers--seventy-two
+of them--seven hundred and twenty pounds. How did they get here? Who put
+them in? Checkley, I say, how did these notes get here?'
+
+He held the notes in his hand and asked these questions in pure
+bewilderment, and not in the expectation of receiving any reply.
+
+'The notes paid to that young gentleman when he forged the cheque,' said
+Checkley, 'must have been put back in the safe by him. There's no other
+way to account for it. He was afraid to present them. He heard you say
+they were stopped, and he put them back. I think I see him doing it.
+While he was flaring out, he done it--I'm sure I see him doing it.'
+
+Mr. Dering received this suggestion without remark. He laid down the
+notes and stared at his clerk. The two old men stared blankly at each
+other. Perhaps Checkley's countenance, of the two, expressed the greater
+astonishment.
+
+'How did those notes get into the safe?' the lawyer repeated. 'This is
+even a more wonderful thing than the mislaying of the certificates. You
+took them out. Show me exactly where they were lying.'
+
+'They were behind these books. See! the outside note is covered with
+dust.'
+
+'They must have been lying there all these years. In my safe! The very
+notes paid across the counter to the forger's messenger! In my safe!
+What does this mean? I feel as if I was going mad. I say-- What does all
+this mean, Checkley?'
+
+The clerk made answer slowly, repeating his former suggestion.
+
+'Since young Arundel forged the cheque, young Arundel got the notes.
+Since young Arundel got the notes, young Arundel must have put them
+back. No one else could. When young Arundel put them back, he done it
+because he was afraid of your finding out. He put them back unseen by
+you that day when you charged him with the crime.'
+
+'I did not charge him. I have charged no one.'
+
+'I charged him, then, and you did not contradict. I'd charge him again
+if he was here.'
+
+'Any man may charge anything upon any other man. There was no proof
+whatever, and none has ever come to light.'
+
+'You're always for proofs that will convict a man. I only said that
+nobody else could do the thing. As for putting the notes back again in
+the safe, now I come to think of it'--his face became cunning and
+malignant--'I do remember--yes--oh! yes--I clearly remember--I quite
+clearly remember--I see it as plain as if it was before me. He got
+sidling nearer and nearer the safe while we were talking: he got quite
+close--so--he chucked a bundle in when he thought I wasn't looking. I
+think--I almost think--I could swear to it.'
+
+'Nonsense,' said the lawyer. 'Your memory is too clear. Tie up the
+notes, Checkley, and put them back. They may help, perhaps, some time,
+to find out the man. Meantime, let us go back to our search. Let us find
+these certificates.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They had now examined every packet in the safe: they had looked at every
+paper: they had opened every book and searched through all the leaves.
+There was no doubt left: the certificates were not there.
+
+Checkley began to tie up the bundles again. His master sat down trying
+to remember something--everything--that could account for their
+disappearance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+A MYSTERIOUS DISCOVERY
+
+
+The safe disposed of, there remained a cupboard, two tables full of
+drawers, twenty or thirty tin boxes. Checkley examined every one of
+these receptacles. In vain. There was not anywhere any trace of the
+certificates.
+
+'Yet,' said Mr. Dering, 'they must be somewhere. We have been hunting
+all the morning, and we have not found them. They are not in this room.
+Yet they must be somewhere. Certificates and such things don't fly away.
+They are of no use to any one. People don't steal certificates. I must
+have done something with them.'
+
+'Did you take them home with you?'
+
+'Why should I do that? I have no safe or strong-room at home.'
+
+'Did you send them to the Bank for greater safety? To be sure, they
+would be no more safe there than here.'
+
+'Go and ask. See the manager. Ask him if he holds any certificates of
+mine.'
+
+The clerk turned to obey.
+
+'No.' Mr. Dering stopped him. 'What's the good? If he held the things,
+there would have been dividends. Yet what can I do?' For the first time
+in his life the lawyer felt the emotion that he had often observed in
+clients at times of real disaster. He felt as if there was nothing
+certain: not even Property: as if the law itself, actually the law--was
+of no use. His brain reeled: the ground was slipping under his feet, and
+he was falling forward through the table, and the floor and the
+foundation--forward and down--down--down. 'What can I do?' he repeated.
+'Checkley, go. See the manager. There may be something to find out. I
+can't think properly. Go.'
+
+When the clerk left him, he laid his head upon his hands and tried to
+put things quite clearly before himself. 'Where can the certificates
+be?' he asked himself, repeating this question twenty times. He was
+quite conscious that if he had been consulted on such a point by a
+client he would have replied with the greatest readiness, suggesting the
+one really practical thing to do. For himself he could advise nothing.
+'Where can the certificates be? Nobody steals Corporation stock and gas
+companies' shares. They are no good if you do steal them. They can't be
+sold without the authority of the owner: he has got to sign transfer
+papers: if they were stolen, the dividends would go on being paid to the
+owner just the same. Besides----' Somewhere about this point he
+bethought him of the Bank-book. If the stock had been sold the money
+would appear to his credit. He snatched the book and looked at it. No;
+there was no entry which could possibly represent the sale of stock. He
+knew what every entry meant, and when the amount was paid in: his memory
+was perfectly clear upon this point.
+
+Checkley's suggestion occurred to him. Had he taken the certificates
+home with him? He might have done for some reason which he had now
+forgotten. Yes; that was the one possible explanation. He must have
+done. For a moment he breathed again--only for a moment, because he
+immediately reflected that he could not possibly do such a thing as take
+those securities to a house where he never transacted any business at
+all. Then he returned to his former bewilderment and terror. What had
+become of them? Why had he taken them out of the safe? Where had he
+bestowed them?
+
+And why were there no dividends paid to him on these stocks? Why? He
+turned white with terror when he realised that if he got no more
+dividends, he could have no more stocks.
+
+During a long professional career of fifty years, Mr. Dering had never
+made a mistake--at least he thought so. If he had not always invested
+his money to the greatest profit, he had invested it safely. He did not
+get the interest that some City men expect, but he made no losses. He
+looked upon himself, therefore, as a man of great sagacity, whereas in
+such matters he was only a man of great prudence. Also, during this long
+period he was always in the enjoyment of a considerable income.
+Therefore he had never known the least anxiety about money. Yet all his
+life he had been counselling other people in their anxieties. It was
+exactly as if a specialist in some mortal disease should be himself
+attacked by it. Or it was as if the bo'sun, whose duty it is to
+superintend the flogging, should be himself tied up.
+
+Nothing came to him: no glimmer of light: not the least recollection of
+anything. Then he thought desperately, that perhaps if he were to
+imagine how it would be if somebody else, not himself at all, were to
+come to himself and lay the story before him as a solicitor, for advice.
+Or how it would be if he himself were to go to himself as a solicitor
+and put the case.
+
+When Checkley came back, he found his master leaning back in his chair,
+his eyes wide open and staring at him as he opened the door--yet they
+saw nothing. Checkley stood under the gaze of those eyes, which saw him
+not. 'Good Lord!' he murmured. 'Is the time come? Is he going to die?'
+
+His face was white. He seemed to be listening anxiously: his lips were
+parted. 'He's in a fit of some kind,' thought the old clerk.
+
+He stood watching. He ought, perhaps, to have called for assistance. He
+did not think of it. He stood and watched, his face as pale as his
+master's. Was it the end? If so--we all think of ourselves first--what
+about his berth and salary?
+
+Suddenly his master's eyes closed; he dropped his head: he heaved a deep
+sigh: he moved his head and opened his eyes. He was restored to himself.
+The fit, whatever it was, had passed.
+
+'Checkley,' he said, 'I've been trying to put the thing to myself as if
+some other man--a client--was putting his case to me. I began very well.
+The other man came--that is, I myself called upon myself. I sat and
+heard my own story. I forgot, somehow, what the story was'--he shook his
+head impatiently. 'Forget--forget--I always forget. But I remember that
+it wasn't the story I wanted him to tell. It was another story
+altogether. He didn't tell me what I wanted to know. That is--what has
+become of the certificates. I'm no nearer than I was. He made out that I
+was actually selling the certificates myself.'
+
+'You're wandering a bit,' said Checkley, anxiously watching him. 'That's
+all. You'll be all right presently. You've bin shook up a bit, with the
+certificates and the notes and all. If I were you I'd have a glass of
+something stiff.'
+
+'No--no; I shall come round presently. Yes--that's it. I'm a good deal
+upset by this business. Somehow, I don't seem able to think clearly
+about it. Let me see'--he sighed heavily--'I think you went
+somewhere--somewhere for me, before--before the other man came.'
+
+'For Lord's sake, don't talk about the other man. There's no such
+person. Yes--I did go for you; I went to ask the manager of the Bank
+whether he held any stock for you.'
+
+'The manager of the Bank. True. Well, and does he hold anything?'
+
+'Not a scrap. Never had any.'
+
+'Then, Checkley'--Mr. Dering dropped his hands helplessly--'what is to
+be done?'
+
+'I don't know, I'm sure,' the clerk replied with equal helplessness. 'I
+never heard of such a thing before in all my life. Thirty-eight thousand
+pounds! It can't be. Nobody ever heard of such a thing before. Perhaps
+they are about the place somewhere. Let's have another search.'
+
+'No--no. It is useless. Why--I have had no dividends. The shares were
+all transferred, and nothing has been paid for them. The shares have
+been stolen. Checkley, I can't think. For the first time in my life, I
+can't think--I want some one to advise me. I must put the case in
+somebody's hands.'
+
+'There's your young partner--a chance for him to show that he's worth
+his pay. Why don't you consult him, and then come back to the old plan
+of you and me? We're knocked a bit silly just at first; but the case
+will come to us in the long run. You would have a partner--nothing would
+do but a partner. The boy's in his own room now, I suppose, with a crown
+upon his head and the clerks kneelin' around--as grand as you please.
+Send for him.'
+
+Mr. Dering nodded.
+
+The partner, when he arrived a few minutes later, found the Chief
+walking about the room in uncontrollable agitation. On the table
+lay piled the whole contents of the safe. In front of it stood
+the ancient clerk, trembling and shaking--head, hands, knees, and
+shoulders--following the movements of his master with eyes full of
+anxiety and terror. This strange fit, this forgetfulness, this rambling
+talk about another man, this new restlessness, frightened him.
+
+'You are come at last.' Mr. Dering stopped and threw himself into his
+chair. Now, my partner, hear the case and resolve the difficulty for
+us, if you can.--Tell him, Checkley--or--stay; no. I will tell it
+myself. Either I have lost my reason and my memory, or I have been
+robbed.'
+
+George stood at the table and listened. Something of the utmost gravity
+had happened. Never before had he seen his Chief in the least degree
+shaken out of his accustomed frigidity of calm. Now he was excited; his
+eyes were restless; he talked fast, he talked badly. He made half a
+dozen attempts to begin: he marshalled his facts in a slovenly and
+disorderly manner, quite unlike his usual clear arrangement: for fifty
+years he had been marshalling facts and drawing up cases, and at his own
+he broke down.
+
+'I think I understand the whole,' said George, when his Chief paused and
+Checkley ceased to correct and to add. 'You had certificates
+representing investments to the amount of 38,000_l_.: these are gone,
+unaccountably gone: no dividends have been paid for some months, and
+your broker speaks of large transfers.'
+
+'That's not all,' said Checkley. 'Tell him about the notes.'
+
+'Yes. The fact may have some bearing upon the case. While we were
+looking for the certificates, and in order, I suppose, to complicate
+things and to bewilder me the more, we found in the safe the very
+notes--give me the bundle, Checkley--there they are--that were paid over
+the Bank counter to the man who forged my name eight years ago.'
+
+'What? The case in which Athelstan Arundel was accused?'
+
+'The same. There they are--you hold them in your hand--the very notes!
+Strange! on the very day when I am threatened with another and a worse
+robbery! Yes--yes; the very notes!--the very notes! This is wonderful.
+Who put them there?'
+
+'How can I know?'
+
+'Well--but in any case one thing is certain. Athelstan's name is cleared
+at last. You will tell his mother that.'
+
+'Not at all,' said Checkley. 'Why shouldn't he put 'em in himself? I saw
+him edging up towards the safe----'
+
+'Saw him edging--stuff and nonsense! His name is cleared. This will be
+joyful news to his mother and sisters.'
+
+'Austin, get me back my certificates,' said Mr. Dering; 'never mind
+those notes now. Never mind the joyful news. Never mind Athelstan's
+name; that can wait. The thought of him and the old forgery only
+bewilders my brain at this juncture. I cannot act. I cannot think. I
+feel as if I was blinded and stupefied. Act for me--think for me--work
+for me. Be my solicitor, George, as well as my partner.'
+
+'I will do my best. It is difficult at first to understand--for what has
+happened? You cannot find--you have mislaid--certain papers. Certain
+dividends which were due do not appear to have been paid: and your
+brokers, Ellis & Northcote, have used a phrase in a letter which you do
+not understand. Would it not be well to get them here; or shall I go
+into the City and ask them exactly what they meant and what has been
+done?'
+
+'If I could remember any transactions with them during the last six
+months. But I cannot, except a small purchase of Corporation stock last
+month--a few hundreds. And here are the papers belonging to that.'
+
+'Which of the partners do you deal with?'
+
+'The old man, Ellis--he's always acted for me. He has been my friend for
+close on fifty years.'
+
+'Well, I will send for him, and tell him to come as soon as possible,
+and to bring along with him all the letters and papers he has.'
+
+'Good, good,' said Mr. Dering, more cheerfully. 'That is practical. I
+ought to have thought of that at the very outset. Now we shall get
+along. The first thing is to arrive at the facts--then we can act. If it
+was another man's case, I should have known what to do. But when it is
+your own--and to lose the certificates, and when a sum of nearly forty
+thousand pounds is at stake--it looks like losing the money itself--and
+the feeling of uncertainty----'
+
+'All taken together, becomes rather overwhelming. Of course I should
+like to see the letter-book, and we must run through the letters to see
+if they throw any light upon the business. Perhaps the papers themselves
+may be found among them.'
+
+The presence of this young man, cheerful, decided, taking practical
+measures at once, cheered up the lawyer, and steadied his shattered
+nerves. But Checkley the clerk looked on gloomily. He replaced the
+papers in the safe, and stood beside it, as if to guard it; he followed
+the movements of the new partner with watchful, suspicious eyes; and he
+muttered sullenly between his teeth.
+
+First George sent a telegram to the City for the broker. Then, while the
+old clerk still stood beside the safe, and Mr. Dering continued to show
+signs of agitation uncontrollable, sometimes walking about the room and
+sometimes sitting at his table, sometimes looking into the empty shelves
+of the safe, he began to look through the copied letters, those, that
+is, which had gone out of Mr. Dering's office. He searched for six
+months, working backwards.
+
+'Nothing for six months,' he said.--'Checkley, give me the letters.' He
+went through these. They were the letters received at the office, all
+filed, endorsed, and dated. There was not one during the letters of six
+months which he examined which had anything to do with the sales of
+stocks and shares.
+
+'If,' he said, 'you had written to Ellis & Northcote, a copy of your
+letter would be here in this book. If they had written to you, these
+letters would be among these bundles. Very well. Since no such letters
+are here, it is clear that no such letters were written. Therefore, no
+sales.'
+
+'Then,' said Mr. Dering, 'where are my certificates? Where are my
+dividends?'
+
+'That we shall see. At present, we are only getting at the facts.'
+
+Then Mr. Ellis, senior partner of Ellis & Northcote, arrived, bearing a
+small packet of papers. Everybody knew Mr. Ellis, of Ellis & Northcote,
+one of the most respectable stockbrokers in London--citizen and Lorimer.
+He belonged eminently to the class called worthy: an old gentleman,
+carefully dressed, of smooth and polished appearance, pleasing manners,
+and great integrity. Nobody could look more truly _integer vitae_ than
+Mr. Ellis. Nor did his private practice belie his reputation and his
+appearance. His chin and lips looked as if they could not possibly
+endure the burden of beard or moustache; his sentiments, one observed at
+a glance, would certainly be such as one expects from a citizen of his
+respectability.
+
+'Here I am, dear sir,' he said cheerfully--'here I am, in immediate
+obedience to your summons. I hope that there is nothing wrong; though
+your request that I would bring with me certain papers certainly made me
+a little apprehensive.'
+
+'There is, I fear, a good deal wrong,' said Mr. Dering. 'Sit down, my
+old friend.--Give Mr. Ellis a chair, Checkley.--Austin, you will tell
+him what he wants to know.'
+
+'You wrote to Mr. Dering yesterday recommending a certain
+investment----'
+
+'I certainly did. A very favourable opportunity it is, and a capital
+thing it will prove.'
+
+'You mentioned in your letter certain transfers and sales which,
+according to your letter, he had recently effected.'
+
+'Certainly.'
+
+'What sales were they?'
+
+Mr. Ellis looked at his papers. 'February last--sale of various stock,
+all duly enumerated here, to the value of 6,500_l_. March last, sale of
+various stock, also all duly enumerated, to the value of 12,000_l_. odd.
+April last, sale of stock to the value of 20,000_l_.--more or
+less--realising----'
+
+'You note the dates and amounts, Austin?' said Mr. Dering.
+
+'Certainly; we will, however, get the dates and the amounts more exactly
+in a moment.--Now, Mr. Ellis, of course you received instructions with
+the papers themselves. Were they in writing or by word of mouth?'
+
+'In writing. By letters written by Mr. Dering himself.'
+
+'Have you got these letters with you?'
+
+'Everything is here, and in proper order.' He laid his hand upon the
+papers. 'Here, for instance, is the first letter, dated February 14,
+relating to these transactions.--You will no doubt remember it, Mr.
+Dering.' He took up a letter, and read it aloud: '"MY DEAR ELLIS,--I
+enclose a bundle of certificates and shares. They amount to somewhere
+about 6,500_l_. at current price. Will you have these transferred to the
+name of Edmund Gray, gentleman, of 22 South Square, Gray's Inn? Mr.
+Edmund Gray is a client, and I will have the amount paid to my account
+by him. Send me, therefore, the transfer papers and the account showing
+the amount due to me by him, together with your commission.--Very
+sincerely yours, EDWARD DERING." That is the letter. The proceeding is
+not usual, yet not irregular. If, for instance, we had been instructed
+to buy stock for Mr. Dering---- But of course you know.'
+
+'Pardon me,' said George. 'I am not so much accustomed to buy stock as
+my partner. Will you go on?'
+
+'We should have done so, and sent our client the bill for the amount
+with our commission. If we had been instructed to sell, we should have
+paid in to Mr. Dering's bank the amount realised less our commission. A
+transfer is another kind of work. Mr. Dering transferred this stock to
+Edmund Gray, his client. It was therefore for him to settle with his
+client the charges for the transfer and the value of the stock. We
+therefore sent a bill for these charges. It was sent by hand, and a
+cheque was received by return of the messenger.'
+
+George received the letter from him, examined it, and laid it before his
+partner.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. Dering read the letter, held it to the Checkley.
+
+'If anybody knows my handwriting,' he said, 'it ought to be you. Whose
+writing is that?'
+
+'It looks like yours. But there is a trembling in the letters. It is not
+so firm as the most of your work. I should call it yours; but I see by
+your face that it is not.'
+
+'No; it is not my writing. I did not write that letter. This is the
+first I have heard of the contents of that letter.--Look at the
+signature, Checkley. Two clots are wanting after the word Dering, and
+the flourish after the last "n" is curtailed of half its usual
+dimensions. Did you ever know me to alter my signature by a single
+curve?'
+
+'Never,' Checkley replied. 'Two clots wanting and half a flourish.--Go
+on, sir; I've just thought of something. But go on.'
+
+'You don't mean to say that this letter is a forgery?' asked Mr. Ellis.
+'Why--then---- Oh! it is impossible. It must then be the beginning of a
+whole series of forgeries. It's quite impossible to credit it. The
+letter came from this office: the post-mark shows it was posted in this
+district: the answer was sent here. The transfers--consider--the
+transfers were posted to this office. They came back duly signed and
+witnessed--from this office. I forwarded the certificate made out in the
+name of Edmund Gray--to this office: and I got an acknowledgment--from
+this office. I sent the account of the transaction with my commission
+charges--to this office, and got a cheque for the latter--from this
+office. How can such a complicated business as this--only the first of
+these transactions--be a forgery? Why, you want a dozen confederates at
+least for such a job as this.'
+
+'I do not quite understand yet,' said George, inexperienced in the
+transfer of stocks and shares.
+
+'Well, I cannot sell stock without the owner's authority; he must sign a
+transfer. But if I receive a commission from a lawyer to transfer his
+stock to a client, it is not my business to ask whether he receives the
+money or not.'
+
+'Yes--yes. And is there nothing to show for the sale of this 6,000_l_.
+worth of paper?' George asked Mr. Dering.
+
+'Nothing at all. The letters and everything are a forgery.'
+
+'And you, Mr. Ellis, received a cheque for your commission?'
+
+'Certainly.'
+
+'Get me the old cheques and the cheque-book,' said Mr. Dering. The
+cheque was drawn, as the letter was written, in Mr. Dering's
+handwriting, but with the slight difference he had pointed out in the
+signature.
+
+'You are quite sure,' asked George, 'that you did not sign that cheque?'
+
+'I am perfectly certain that I did not.'
+
+'Then as for this Edmund Gray of 22 South Square, Gray's Inn--what do
+you know about him?'
+
+'Nothing at all--absolutely nothing.'
+
+'I know something,' said Checkley. 'But go on--go on.'
+
+'He may be a non-existent person, for what you know.'
+
+'Certainly. I know nothing about any Edmund Gray.'
+
+'Wait a bit,' murmured Checkley.
+
+'Well, but'--Mr. Ellis went on--'this was only a beginning. In March you
+wrote to me again; that is to say, I received a letter purporting to be
+from you. In this letter--here it is--you instructed me to transfer
+certain stock--the papers of which you enclosed--amounting to about
+12,000_l_.--to Edmund Gray aforesaid. In the same way as before the
+transfer papers were sent to you for signature: in the same way as
+before they were signed and returned: and in the same way as before the
+commission was charged to you and paid by you. It was exactly the same
+transaction as before--only for double the sum involved in the February
+business.'
+
+Mr. Dering took the second letter and looked at it with a kind of
+patient resignation. 'I know nothing about it,' he said--'nothing at
+all.'
+
+'There was a third and last transaction,' said the broker, 'this time in
+April. Here is the letter written by you with instructions exactly the
+same as in the previous cases, but dealing with the stock to the amount
+of 19,000_l_., which we duly carried out, and for which we received your
+cheque--for commission.'
+
+'Every one of these letters--every signature of mine to transfer papers
+and to cheques--was a forgery,' said Mr. Dering slowly. 'I have no
+client named Edmund Gray: I know no one of the name: I never received
+any money from the transfers: these investments are stolen.'
+
+'Let me look at the letters again,' said George. He examined them
+carefully, comparing them with each other. 'They are so wonderfully
+forged that they would deceive the most careful. I should not hesitate,
+myself, to swear to the handwriting.'
+
+It has already been explained that Mr. Dering's handwriting was of a
+kind which is not uncommon with those who write a good deal. The
+unimportant words were conveyed by a curve, with or without a tail,
+while the really important words were clearly written. The signature,
+however, was large, distinct, and florid--the signature of the House,
+which had been flourishing for a hundred years and more, a signature
+which had never varied.
+
+'Look at it,' said George again. 'Who would not swear to this writing?'
+
+'I would for one,' said Mr. Ellis. 'And I have known it for forty years
+and more.--If that is not your own writing, Dering, it is the very
+finest imitation ever made.'
+
+'I don't think my memory can be quite gone.--Checkley, have we ever had
+a client named Edmund Gray?'
+
+'No--never. But you've forgotten one thing. That forgery eight years
+ago--the cheque of 720_l_.--was payable to the order of Edmund Gray.'
+
+'Ah! So it was. This seems important.'
+
+'Most important,' said George. 'The forger could not possibly by
+accident choose the same name. This cannot be coincidence. Have you the
+forged cheque?'
+
+'I have always kept it,' Mr. Dering replied, 'on the chance of using it
+to prove the crime and convict the criminal. You will find it, Checkley,
+in the right-hand drawer of the safe. Thank you. Here it is. "Pay to the
+order of Edmund Gray;" and here is his endorsement. So we have his
+handwriting at any rate.'
+
+George took it. 'Strange,' he said. 'I should without any hesitation
+swear to your handwriting here as well. And look--the signature to the
+cheque is exactly the same as that of these letters. The two dots
+missing after the name, and the flourish after the last "n" curtailed.'
+
+It was so. The handwriting of the cheque and of the letters was the
+same: the signatures were slightly, but systematically, altered in
+exactly the same way in both letters and cheque.
+
+'This again,' said George, 'can hardly be coincidence. It seems to me
+that the man who wrote that cheque also wrote those letters.'
+
+The endorsement was in a hand which might also be taken for Mr. Dering's
+own. Nothing to be got out of the endorsement.
+
+'But about the transfer papers,' said George. 'They would have to be
+witnessed as well as signed.'
+
+'They were witnessed,' said the broker, 'by a clerk named Lorry.'
+
+'Yes, we have such a man in our office.--Checkley, send for Lorry.'
+
+Lorry was a clerk employed in Mr. Dering's outer office. Being
+interrogated, he said that he had no recollection of witnessing a
+signature for a transfer paper. He had witnessed many signatures, but
+was not informed what the papers were. Asked if he remembered especially
+witnessing any signature in February, March, or April, he replied that
+he could not remember any, but that he had witnessed a great many
+signatures: that sometimes Mr. Dering wanted him to witness his own
+signature, sometimes those of clients. If he were shown his signature he
+might remember. Lorry, therefore, was allowed to depart to his own
+place.
+
+'There can be no longer any doubt,' said George, 'that an attempt has
+been made at a robbery on a very large scale.'
+
+'An attempt only?' Mr. Dering asked. 'Where are my certificates?'
+
+'I say attempt, because you can't really steal stock. Dividends are only
+paid to those who lawfully possess it. This Edmund Gray we can find, if
+he exists. I take it, however, that he does not. It is probably a name
+assumed by the forger. And I suppose that he has made haste to sell his
+stock. Whether or no, you will certainly recover your property. People
+may as well steal a field as steal stocks and shares.'
+
+'We can easily find out for you,' said Mr. Ellis, 'what has become of
+your paper.'
+
+'If the thieves have kept it,' George went on, 'all they could make
+would be the dividends for five months. That, however, is only because
+the Bank-book was not examined for so long. They could not reckon upon
+such an unusual stroke of luck. It seems almost certain that they must
+get rid of the stock as quickly as they could. Suppose that they have
+realised the whole amount. It is an immense sum of money. It would have
+to be paid by cheque into a bank: the holder could only draw out the
+money gradually: he might, to be sure, go to America and have the whole
+amount transferred, but that would not help him much unless he could
+draw it out in small sums payable to confederates. In fact, the robbery
+seems to me hedged about with difficulties almost impossible.'
+
+'It is the most extraordinary attempt at robbery that ever was,' said
+Mr. Ellis. 'Thirty-eight thousand pounds in shares. Well, I will find
+out for you if they have been sold and to whom. Meantime, my old friend,
+don't you be down-hearted about it. As Mr. Austin says, you will
+certainly get your property back again. What? We live in a civilised
+country. We cannot have large sums like 40,000_l_. stolen bodily.
+Property isn't kept any longer in bags of gold. Bank notes, banks,
+investments, all tend to make great robberies impossible. Courage; you
+will get back your property.'
+
+Mr. Dering shook his head doubtfully.
+
+'There is another chance,' George suggested. 'One has heard of robberies
+effected with the view of blackmail afterwards. Suppose we were to get a
+letter offering the whole to be returned for a certain sum.'
+
+'No--no. It is now four months since the thing was done. They have sold
+out the stock and disappeared--gone to America, as you suggested. Why,
+the things may have been sold a dozen times over in the interval. That
+is the danger. Suppose they _have_ been sold a dozen times over.
+Consider. Here is a share in the Great Western. I transfer it from A to
+B. Very good. The share now belongs to B, and stands in his name whether
+honestly come by or not. B sends it to another broker, who sells it to
+C. He, again, to D. Every transaction is right and in form except the
+first. You can trace the share from owner to owner. B has vanished. A
+says to C: "You bought that share of a thief." C says: "Very sorry. How
+was I to know? D has got it now." D says that it is his, and he will
+stick to it. We go to law about the share. What is going to happen? Upon
+my word, I don't know. Well--but this is only conjecture. Let me first
+find out what has become of the shares. Of course there is a record, to
+which I have only to refer. I will let you know by to-morrow morning, if
+I can.'
+
+When Mr. Ellis was gone, George began to sum up, for the clearing of his
+own mind, the ascertained facts of the case, so far as they had got.
+
+'First,' he said, 'the letters to Ellis and Northcote were written on
+our headed paper. Clearly, therefore, the writer must have had access to
+the office. Next, he knew and could copy your handwriting. Third, he was
+able to intercept the delivery of letters, and to prevent your getting
+any he wished to stop, because the correspondence was conducted openly
+through the post. That seems to be a very important point. Fourth, the
+letters were all, apparently, in your handwriting, very skilfully
+imitated, instead of being dictated and then signed. Fifth, he must at
+least have known of the last forgery, or how did he arrive at the name
+of Edmund Gray?' And was it out of devilry and mockery, because that
+forgery escaped detection, that he used the name again? Sixth, he must
+have had access to the safe where the cheque-book (as well as the
+certificates) was kept. Seventh, he must have known the office pretty
+well, or how did he find out the names of your brokers? Eighth, the
+handwriting appeared to be exactly the same as that of the former
+forgery.'
+
+'It is the same as last time,' said Checkley. 'That forgery was done in
+the office, if ever a thing was done here. Same with this--same with
+this. Well--time will show. Same with this.' He glared from under his
+great eyebrows at the young partner, as if he suspected that the young
+gentleman could throw some light upon that mystery if he wished.
+
+'We have given Time long enough to discover the author of the last
+business,' said Mr. Dering; 'but he has not chosen to do so as yet. The
+loss of property,' he groaned--'the loss of close on forty thousand
+pounds.'
+
+'I don't believe it is lost,' said George. 'It can't be lost. It is a
+bit of a railway--part of a reservoir--a corner of the gas-works--you
+can't lose these things--unless, indeed, the difficulty suggested by Mr.
+Ellis occurs.'
+
+Here Mr. Dering pushed back his chair and began again to walk about the
+room in restless agitation. He was no longer the grave and serious
+lawyer; he became one of his own clients, lamenting, as they had so
+often lamented in that room, the greatness of his misfortune. He uttered
+the actual commonplaces of men in distress--there is a dreadful sameness
+about the Lamentations of Ill Luck. We all know them--the hardness of
+the thing: the injustice of it: the impossibility of warding it off: his
+own sagacity in taking every precaution: the dreadfulness of being
+singled out of a whole generation for exceptional misfortune. Mr. Dering
+himself, the grave, calm, reserved old lawyer, who seemed made of
+granite, broke down under the blow and became an ordinary human
+creature. In the lower walks, they weep. Checkley would have wept. Mr.
+Dering became eloquent, wrathful, sarcastic. No retired General who has
+ruined himself by gambling in stocks could so bemoan his luck. George
+listened, saying nothing. It was an experience. No man so strong but has
+his weak point. No man is completely armoured against the arrows of
+fate.
+
+Presently he grew a little more calm, and sat down. 'Forgive me,
+George,' he said gently--'forgive this outbreak. There is more in the
+business than you know of. I feel as if I know something about it, but
+can't bring it out. I am growing so forgetful--I forget whole days--I am
+filled with the feeling that I ought to know about it. As for the loss,
+what I have said is true. You do not yet feel as I do about Property.
+You are too young: you have not got any Property yet. Wait a few
+years--then you will be able to agree with me that there is nothing in
+the world so hard as to lose your Property--the Property that you have
+made--by your own exertions--for yourself.'
+
+'Now you talk like yourself,' said Checkley. 'That's sense. Nothing so
+dreadful as to lose Property. It's enough to kill people, it has killed
+many people.'
+
+'Property means everything. You understand that the more the older you
+get.'
+
+'You do,' echoed Checkley. 'There's nothing in the world worth
+considering except Property.'
+
+'It means--remember--all the virtues--prudence--courage--quick
+sight--self-restraint--tenacity--all the fighting qualities. We do well
+to honour rich men. I hoped to receive honour myself as a rich man. When
+you have put together a few thousands--by the exercise of these finer
+qualities, so that the thought of this gives you dignity----'
+
+'Ah!' cried Checkley, straightening himself.
+
+'To feel that they are gone--gone--gone--it is cruel.--George, you don't
+understand it. You are young: as yet you have no money.--Checkley, you
+have saved----'
+
+'Me? Oh! A trifle, a trifle.' But he covered his mouth with his hand to
+conceal the smile of satisfaction.
+
+'You are reputed rich.'
+
+'No--no--no. Not rich. My chances have been few. I have not let them go.
+But rich? No--no.'
+
+'How would you regard the loss--the robbery of your property--Checkley?'
+
+The old clerk shook his head. He had no words adequate to the question.
+
+'Apart from the loss,' Mr. Dering went on, 'there is the sense of
+insecurity. I felt it once before when the other forgery took place.
+There seems no safety anywhere. Papers that I keep in my private safe,
+to which no one has a key but myself, which I never leave open if I
+leave the room even to go into another room, are taken. Cheque-books
+which I keep there are taken out and cheques stolen. Finally, things are
+put in--the bundle of notes--for instance. I say that I feel a sense of
+helplessness, as if everything might be taken from me and I should be
+powerless to resist.'
+
+'Let us first get back the certificates,' said George, 'and we will find
+out and defeat this gang, if it is a gang, of confederates. Yes--it is
+as you say--the ground itself seems sinking beneath one's feet--when
+one's own investments are sold for nothing by a letter so like your own
+writing that it would deceive anybody.'
+
+'Done in the office,' Checkley murmured--'in the office. Same as last
+time. Well--we shall find him--we shall find him.' He began to bundle
+the papers back into the safe, murmuring: 'Same as last time--done in
+the office--we shall find him--we shall find him. We found him before,
+and we'll find him now.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE FIRST FIND
+
+
+'Yes,' said George thoughtfully, 'a day or two ought to unravel this
+matter. We must first, however, before going to the Police, find out as
+much as we can ourselves. Let me take up the case by myself for a bit.'
+
+'No--no,' Checkley grumbled. 'Police first. Catch the man first.'
+
+'Put aside everything,' said the Chief, 'everything, George. Forget
+everything until you have found out the mystery of the conspiracy.'
+
+'It looks to me like a Long Firm,' George went on--'a Long Firm with a
+sham name and a respectable address. Of course there is no such person,
+really, as Edmund Gray.'
+
+'It is not only the loss--perhaps, let us hope'--Mr. Dering
+sighed--'only a temporary loss; if a real loss, then a most terrible
+blow--not only that, but it is the sense of insecurity. No one ever
+found out about that cheque--and here are the notes in the safe all the
+time.'
+
+'He put 'em in,' said Checkley.
+
+'This is the second time--and the same name still--Edmund Gray. It fills
+me with uneasiness--I am terrified, George. I know not what may be the
+next blow--what may be taken from me--my mortgages--my houses--my
+land--everything. Go. I can do the work of the office--all the work--by
+myself. But this work I cannot do. I am not able to think about it.
+These thoughts overpower me and cloud my reason.'
+
+'Well,' said George, 'I will do what I can. I don't suppose there is any
+Edmund Gray at all: but one must try to find out. There can be no harm
+in paying a visit to Gray's Inn. If the thing had been done yesterday,
+it would be necessary to strike at once with a warrant for the arrest of
+the said Edmund Gray. As it is four months since the last robbery, there
+can be small harm in the delay of a day or two. I will go and inquire a
+little.'
+
+Nothing easier than to inquire. There was the man's address: everybody
+knows Gray's Inn: everybody knows South Square. The place is only ten
+minutes' walk from Lincoln's Inn. George took his hat, walked over and
+proceeded straight to No. 22, expecting to find no such name on the
+door-posts. On the contrary, there it was. '2nd Floor, Mr. Edmund Gray,'
+among the other occupants of the staircase. He mounted the stairs. On
+the second floor right was the name over the door, 'Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+But the outer door was closed. That is a sign that the tenant of the
+Chambers is either not at home or not visible. On the first floor were
+the offices of a Firm of Solicitors. He sent in his card. The name of
+Dering and Son commands the respectful attention of every solicitor in
+London. One of the partners received him. The firm of Dering and Son was
+anxious to see Mr. Edmund Gray, who had the Chambers overhead. At what
+hours was Mr. Edmund Gray generally in his rooms? Nobody knew, not
+either of the partners, not any of the clerks. He might have been met
+going up and down the stairs, but nobody knew him by sight or anything
+about him. This at first sight seemed suspicious; afterwards George
+reflected that men may live for years on the same staircase and never
+know anything about each other. Men who live in Gray's Inn do not visit
+each other: there is little neighbourly spirit among men in Chambers,
+but rather an unspoken distrust.
+
+'But,' said the partner, 'I can tell you who is his landlord. He does
+not take the rooms of the Inn direct, but as we do, from one who has
+several sets on a long lease, and sublets the rooms. They may know
+something about the man at the Steward's office across the Square. If
+not, the landlord will certainly know.'
+
+George asked if Edmund Gray was newly arrived. No. It appeared that he
+had been in the Inn for a long time. 'But then,' his informant added,
+'he may have been here a hundred years for all we know: we never think
+of our neighbours in Chambers. Opposite is a man whose name has been
+over the door as long as I can remember anything. I don't know who he is
+or what is his business. I don't even know him by sight. So with Mr.
+Edmund Gray. If I were to meet him on the stairs, I should not be any
+the wiser. You see, I am only here in the daytime. Now, the other man on
+the second floor I do know something about, because he is a coach and
+was a Fellow of my College. And the man in the garrets I hear about
+occasionally, because he is an old barrister who sometimes defends a
+prisoner.'
+
+At the Steward's office George put the same question. 'I am a
+solicitor,' he said. 'Here is my card. I am most anxious to see Mr.
+Edmund Gray, of No. 22. Could you save me time by letting me know at
+what hour he is in his Chambers?'
+
+They could tell him nothing. Mr. Gray was not a tenant of the Inn. Very
+likely he was a residential tenant who came home in the evenings after
+business.
+
+Everything learned is a step gained. Whether Edmund Gray was a man or a
+Long Firm, the name had been on the door for many years. But--many
+years?--could a confederacy of swindlers go on for many years,
+especially if they undertook such mighty schemes for plunder as this
+business?
+
+Next he went to the address of the landlord. He was a house agent in
+Bloomsbury, and apparently a person of respectability.
+
+'If you could tell me,' George began with the same question, 'at what
+hours I could find your tenant in his Chambers; or if you could give me
+his business address, we should be very greatly obliged. We want to find
+him at once--to-day, if possible, on very important business.'
+
+'Well, I am sorry, very sorry--but--in fact, I don't know anything about
+my tenant's hours, nor can I give you his place of business. I believe
+he has no business.'
+
+'Oh! But you took him as a tenant. You must have had some references.'
+
+'Certainly. And upon that I can satisfy you very shortly.' He opened a
+great book and turned over the pages. 'Here it is--to No. 22, South
+Square, Gray's Inn, Second floor, north side--Edmund Gray, gentleman.
+Rent 40_l_. a year. Date of taking the rooms, February, 1882, at the
+half-quarter. Reference, Messrs. Dering and Son, Solicitors, New Square,
+Lincoln's Inn.'
+
+'Why--you mean that he referred to us--to Messrs. Dering and Son--in the
+year 1882!'
+
+'That is so. Would you like to see the letter which we received on
+application? Wait a moment.' He rang the bell, and a clerk appeared, to
+whom he gave instructions. 'I am bound to say,' the landlord went on,
+'that a more satisfactory tenant than Mr. Gray does not exist. He pays
+his rent regularly by Post-office order every quarter, on the day before
+quarter day.'
+
+'Oh! I wonder----' But he stopped, because to begin wondering is always
+futile, especially at so early a stage. When there are already
+accumulated facts to go upon, and not till then, wondering becomes the
+putting together of the puzzle.
+
+'Well, here is the letter. "Gentlemen"'--the house agent read the letter
+received on application to the reference-'"In reply to your letter of
+the 13th, we beg to inform you that Mr. Edmund Gray is a client of ours,
+a gentleman of independent means, and that he is quite able to pay any
+reasonable rent for residence or Chambers.--Your obedient servants,
+DERING AND SON."--I suppose,' he added, 'that a man doesn't want a
+better reference than your own?'
+
+'No; certainly not.' George looked at the letter. It presented as to
+handwriting exactly the same points of likeness and of difference as all
+the other letters in this strange case: the body of the letter
+apparently written in the hand of Mr. Dering; that is, so as to deceive
+everybody: the signature, with one or two small omissions. 'Certainly
+not,' he repeated. 'With such a reference, of course, you did not
+hesitate. Did you ever see Mr. Gray?'
+
+'Certainly. I have seen him often. First when he was getting his rooms
+furnished, and afterwards on various occasions.'
+
+'What kind of a man is he to look at?'
+
+'Elderly. Not exactly the kind of man you'd expect to have Chambers.
+Mostly, they're young ones who like the freedom. An elderly gentleman:
+pleasant in his manners: smiling and affable: gray-haired.'
+
+'Oh!' Then there was a real Edmund Gray of ten years' standing in the
+Inn, who lived or had Chambers at the number stated in the forged
+letters.
+
+'I suppose,' said the house agent, 'that my respectable tenant has not
+done anything bad?'
+
+'N-no--not to my knowledge. His name occurs in rather a disagreeable
+case. Would you be so very kind as to let him know, in case you should
+meet him--but of course we shall write to him--that we are most anxious
+to see him?'
+
+This the landlord readily promised. 'There is another person,' he said,
+'who can tell you a great deal more than anybody else. That is his
+laundress. I don't know who looks after him, but you can find out at
+the Inn. The policeman will know. Go and ask him.'
+
+In the game of battledore and shuttlecock, the latter has no chance
+except to take the thing coolly, without temper. George was the
+shuttlecock. He was hit back into Gray's Inn--this time into the arms of
+the policeman.
+
+'Well, sir,' said the guardian of the peace, 'I do not know anything
+about the gentleman myself. If he was one of the noisy ones, I should
+know him. But he isn't, and therefore I have never heard of him. But if
+he lives at No. 22, I can tell you who does his rooms; and it's old Mrs.
+Cripps, and she lives in Leather Lane.'
+
+This street, which is now, comparatively speaking, purged and cleansed,
+is not yet quite the ideal spot for one who would have pure air and
+cleanliness combined with godliness of conversation. However, individual
+liberty is nowhere more absolutely free and uncontrolled than in Leather
+Lane.
+
+Mrs. Cripps lived on the top floor, nearest to Heaven, of which she
+ought to be thinking because she was now old and near her end. She was
+so old that she was quite past her work, and only kept on Mr. Gray's
+rooms because he never slept there, and they gave her no trouble except
+to go to them in the morning with a duster and to drop asleep for an
+hour or so. What her one gentleman gave her, moreover, was all she had
+to live upon.
+
+Though the morning was warm, she was sitting over the fire watching a
+small pan, in which she was stewing a savoury mess, consisting of a
+'block ornament' with onions, carrots, and turnips. Perhaps she was
+thinking--the poor old soul--of the days gone by--gone by for fifty
+years--when she was young and wore a feather in her hat. Old ladies of
+her class do not think much about vanished beauty, but they think a good
+deal about vanished feathers and vanished hats: they remember the old
+free carriage in the streets with the young friends, and the careless
+laugh, and the ready jest. It is the ancient gentlewoman who remembers
+the vanished beauty, and thinks of what she was fifty years ago.
+
+Mrs. Cripps heard a step on the narrow stair leading to her room--a
+manly step. It mounted higher and more slowly, because the stairs were
+dark as well as narrow. Then the visitor's hat knocked against the door.
+He opened it, and stood there looking in. A gentleman! Not a District
+Visitor or a Sister trying to persuade her to early Church--nor yet the
+clergyman--a young gentleman.
+
+'You are Mrs. Cripps?' he asked. 'The policeman at Gray's Inn directed
+me here. You are laundress, I believe, to Mr. Edmund Gray of No. 22?'
+
+'Suppose I am, sir,' she replied suspiciously. A laundress is like the
+Hall Porter of a Club: you must not ask her about any of her gentlemen.
+
+'I have called to see Mr. Edmund Gray on very important business. I
+found his door shut. Will you kindly tell me at what hours he is
+generally in his Chambers?'
+
+She shook her head: but she held out her hand.
+
+The young gentleman placed half a sovereign in her palm. Her fingers
+closed over the coin. She clutched it, and she hid it away in some
+secret fold of her ragged dress. There is no woman so ragged, so
+dropping to pieces with shreds and streamers and tatters, but she can
+find a safe hiding-place, somewhere in her rags, for a coin or for
+anything else that is small or precious.
+
+'I never tell tales about my gentlemen,' she said, 'especially when they
+are young and handsome, like you. A pore laundress has eyes and ears and
+hands, but she hasn't got a tongue. If she had, there might be terrible,
+terrible trouble. Oh! dear--yes. But Mr. Gray isn't a young gentleman.
+He's old, and it isn't the same thing.'
+
+'Then,' said George, 'how and when can I find him?'
+
+'I was coming to that. You can't find him. Sometimes he comes, and
+sometimes he doesn't come.'
+
+'Oh! He doesn't live in the rooms, then!'
+
+'No. He doesn't live in the rooms. He uses the rooms sometimes.'
+
+'What does he use them for?'
+
+'How should I know? All the gentlemen do things with pens and paper. How
+should I know what they do? They make their money with their pens and
+paper. I dun know how they do it. I suppose Mr. Gray is making his money
+like the rest of them.'
+
+Oh! he goes to the Chambers and writes?'
+
+'Sometimes it's weeks and weeks and months and months before he comes at
+all. But always my money regular and beforehand sent in an envelope and
+a postal order.'
+
+'Well, what is his private address? I suppose he lives in the country?'
+
+'I don't know where he lives. I know nothing about him. I go there every
+morning, and I do the room. That's all I know.'
+
+There was no more information to be obtained. Sometimes he came to the
+Inn; sometimes he stayed away for weeks and weeks, and for months and
+months.
+
+'I might ha' told you more, young gentleman,' murmured the old woman,
+'and I might ha' told you less. P'raps you'll come again.'
+
+He went back to Lincoln's Inn, and set down his facts.
+
+First, there was a forgery in the year 1882, in which the name of Edmund
+Gray was used. Next, in the series of forgeries just discovered, not
+only was the name of Edmund Gray used throughout, but the handwriting of
+the letters and cheques was exactly the same as that of the first
+cheque, with the same peculiarities in the signature. This could hardly
+be a coincidence. The same man must have written the whole.
+
+Then, who was Edmund Gray?
+
+He was a real personage--a living man--not a Firm--one known to the
+landlord of the Chambers, and to the laundress, if to nobody else. He
+did not live in the Chambers, but he used them for some business
+purposes; he sometimes called there and wrote. What did he write? Where
+was he, and what was he doing, when he was not at the Chambers? He might
+be one--leader or follower--of some secret gang. One has read of such
+gangs, especially in French novels, where the leaders are noble Dukes of
+the first rank, and Princesses--young, lovely, of the highest fashion.
+Why should there not be such a gang in London? Clever conspirators could
+go a very long way before they were even suspected. In this civilisation
+of cheques and registered shares and official transfers, property is so
+much defended that it is difficult to break through the armour. But
+there must be weak places in that armour. It must be possible for the
+wit of man to devise some plan by means of which property can be
+attacked successfully. Had he struck such a conspiracy?
+
+Thus. A man calling himself Edmund Gray gets a lease of Chambers by
+means of a forged letter in answer to a reference. It is convenient for
+certain conspirators, hereinafter called the company, to have an
+address, though it may never be used. The conspiracy begins by forging
+a cheque to his order for 720_l_. That was at the outset, when the
+conspirators were young. It was found dangerous, and the notes were
+therefore replaced in the safe. Note, that the company, through one or
+other of its members, has access to that safe. This might perhaps be by
+means of a key--in the evening, after office hours: or by some one who
+was about the place all day.
+
+Very good. The continued connection of some member of the Firm with
+Dering and Son is proved by the subsequent proceedings. After eight
+years, the company having matured their machinery, and perhaps worked
+out with success other enterprises, return to their first quarry, where
+they have the advantage of access to the letters, and can look over
+their disposition. They are thus enabled to conduct their successive
+_coups_, each bigger than the one before. And for four months the thing
+remains undiscovered. Having the certificates in their hands, what was
+to prevent them from selling the whole and dividing the proceeds?
+Nothing. Yet, in such a case they would disappear, and here was Edmund
+Gray still fearlessly at large. Why had he not got clear away long
+before?
+
+Again--all the correspondence concerning Edmund Gray was carried on
+between the office and the brokers. There were no letters from Edmund
+Gray at all. Suppose it should be found impossible to connect Edmund
+Gray with the transactions carried on in his name. Suppose the real
+Edmund Gray were to deny any knowledge at all of the transactions.
+Suppose he were to say that ten years before he had brought a letter of
+introduction to Mr. Dering, and knew nothing more about him. Well--but
+the certificates themselves--what about them? Their possession would
+have to be accounted for. So he turned the matter over and over and
+arrived at nothing, not even the next step to take.
+
+He went back to the Chief and reported what he had discovered: the
+existence of an Edmund Gray--the letter of recommendation to the
+landlord. 'Another forgery,' groaned Mr. Dering.
+
+'It is done in the office,' said George. 'It is all done in the
+office--letters--cheques--everything.'
+
+'The office,' Checkley repeated. 'No doubt about it.'
+
+'Give up everything else, George,' said Mr. Dering eagerly 'everything
+else. Find out--find out. Employ detectives. Spend money as much as you
+please. I am on a volcano--I know not what may be taken from me next.
+Only find out, my partner, my dear partner--find out.'
+
+When George was gone, Checkley went after him and opened the door
+mysteriously, to assure himself that no one was listening.
+
+'What are you going on like that for, Checkley?' asked his master
+irritably. 'Is it another forgery? It rains forgeries.'
+
+'No--no. Look here. Don't trouble too much about it. Don't try to think
+how it was done. Don't talk about the other man. Look here. You've sent
+that young gentleman to find out this business. Well--mark my words: he
+won't. He won't, I say. He'll make a splash, but he won't find anything.
+Who found out the last job?'
+
+'You said you did. But nothing was proved.'
+
+'I found that out. Plenty of proof there was. Look here'--his small eyes
+twinkled under his shaggy eyebrows--'I'll find out this job as well, see
+if I don't. Why----' He rubbed his hands. 'Ho! ho! I _have found out_.
+Don't ask me--don't put a single question. But--I've got 'em--oh! I've
+got 'em. I've got 'em for you--as they say--on toast.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THINGS MORE REMARKABLE
+
+
+After such a prodigious event as the discovery of these unparalleled
+forgeries, anything might happen without being regarded. People's minds
+are open at such times to see, hear, and accept everything. After the
+earthquake, ghosts walk, solid things fly away of their own accord, good
+men commit murder, rich men go empty away, and nobody is in the least
+surprised.
+
+See what happened, the very next day, at the office in New Square. When
+George arrived in the morning he found that the senior Partner had not
+yet appeared. He was late. For the first time for fifty years and more,
+he was late. He went to his place, and the empty chair gave an air of
+bereavement to the room. Checkley was laying out the table; that is, he
+had done so a quarter of an hour before, but he could not leave off
+doing it: he was loth to leave the table before the master came: he took
+up the blotting pad and laid it down again: he arranged the pens: he
+lingered over the job.
+
+'Not come yet?' George cried, astonished. 'Do you think that yesterday's
+shock has been too much for him?'
+
+'I believe it's killed him,' said the old clerk--'killed him. That's
+what it has done;' and he went on muttering and mumbling. 'Don't,'he
+cried, when George took up the letters. 'P'r'aps he isn't dead yet--you
+haven't stepped into his shoes just yet. Let them letters alone.'
+
+'Not dead yet. I hope not.' George began to open the letters, regardless
+of the surly and disrespectful words. One may forgive a good deal to
+fidelity. 'He will go on for a good many years after we have got the
+money back for him.'
+
+'After some of us'--Checkley corrected him--'have got his money back for
+him.' He turned to go back to his own office, then turned again and came
+back to the table. He laid both hands upon it, leaned forward, shaking
+his head, and said with trembling voice: 'Did you never think, Mr.
+Austin, of the black ingratitood of the thing? Him that done it you
+know--him that eat his bread and took his money.' When Checkley was
+greatly moved, his grammar went back to the early days before he was
+confidential clerk.
+
+'I daresay it was ungrateful. I have been thinking, hitherto, of
+stronger adjectives.'
+
+'Well--we've agreed--all of us--haven't we?--that it was done in this
+office--some one in the office done it with the help of some one out:
+some one who knows his ways'--he pointed to the empty chair--'some one
+who'd known all his ways for a long time, ten years at least.'
+
+'Things certainly seem to point that way'--'and they point to you,' he
+would have added, but refrained.
+
+The old man shook his head again and went on. 'They've eaten his bread
+and done his work; and--and--don't you call it, Mr. Austin--I ask you
+plain--don't you call it black ingratitood?'
+
+'I am sure it is. I have no doubt whatever about the ingratitude. But,
+you see, Checkley, that vice is not one which the Courts recognise. It
+is not one denounced in the Decalogue.--There is a good deal to
+consider, in fact, before we get to the ingratitude. It is probably a
+criminal conspiracy; it is a felony; it is a thing to be punished by a
+long term of penal servitude. When we have worried through all this and
+got our conspirators under lock and key, we will proceed to consider
+their ingratitude. There is also the bad form of it and the absence of
+proper feeling of it; and the want of consideration of the trouble they
+give. Patience! We shall have to consider the business from your point
+of view presently.'
+
+'I wouldn't scoff and snigger at it, Mr. Austin, if I were you. Scoffin'
+and sniggerin' might bring bad luck. Because, you know, there's others
+besides yourself determined to bring this thing to a right issue.'
+
+George put down his papers and looked at this importunate person. What
+did he mean? The old man shrunk and shrivelled and grew small. He
+trembled all over. But he remained standing with his hands on the
+table--leaning forward. 'Eight years ago,' he went on, 'when that other
+business happened--when Mr. Arundel cut his lucky----'
+
+'I will have nothing said against Mr. Arundel. Go to your own room.'
+
+'One word--I will speak it. If _he's_ dead I shall not stay long here.
+But I shall stay so long as he's alive, though you are his partner. Only
+one word, sir. If Mr. Arundel hadn't--run away--he'd 'a been a partner
+instead of you.'
+
+'Well?'
+
+'Well, sir--s'pose he'd been found out _after_ he was made a partner,
+instead of before?'
+
+George pointed to the door. The old man seemed off his head--was it with
+terror? Checkley obeyed. But at the door he turned his head and grinned.
+Quite a theatrical grin. It expressed malignity and the pleasure of
+anticipation. What was the matter with the old man? Surely, terror. Who,
+in the office, except himself, had the control of the letters? Who drew
+that quarterly cheque? Surely, terror.
+
+It was not until half-past eleven that Mr. Dering arrived at the office.
+He usually passed through the clerk's office outside his own; this
+morning he entered by his own private door, which opened on the stairs.
+No one had the key except himself. He generally proceeded in an orderly
+and methodical manner to hang up his hat and coat, take off his gloves,
+place his umbrella in the stand, throw open the safe, sit down in his
+chair, adjusted at a certain distance of three inches or so, to put on
+his glasses, and then, without either haste or dawdling, to begin the
+work of the day. It is very certain that to approach work always in
+exactly the same way saves the nerves. The unmethodical workman gets to
+his office at a varying hour, travels by different routes--now on an
+omnibus, now on foot; does nothing to-day in the same way that he did it
+yesterday. He breaks up early. At sixty he talks of retiring, at seventy
+he is past his work.
+
+This morning, Mr. Dering did nothing in its proper order. First, he was
+nearly two hours late. Next, he came in by his private door. George rose
+to greet him, but stopped because--a most wonderful thing--his Partner
+made as if he did not observe his presence. His eyes went through George
+in creepy and ghostly fashion. The junior partner stood still, silent,
+in bewilderment. Saw one ever the like, that a man should at noontide
+walk in his sleep! His appearance, too, was strange; his hat, pushed a
+little back, gave a touch of recklessness--actually recklessness--to the
+austere old lawyer: his eyes glowed pleasantly; and on his face--that
+grave and sober face--there was a pleased and satisfied smile: he looked
+happy, interested, benevolent, but not--no--not Mr. Edward Dering.
+Again, his coat, always tightly buttoned, was now hanging loose;
+outside, it had been swinging in the breeze, to the wonder of Lincoln's
+Inn: and he wore no gloves, a thing most remarkable. He looked about the
+room, nodded his head, and shut the door behind him.
+
+'He's somnambulating,' George murmured, 'or else I am invisible: I must
+have eaten fern-seed without knowing it.'
+
+Mr. Dering, still smiling pleasantly, walked across the room to the safe
+and unlocked it. He had in his hand a brown-paper parcel tied with red
+tape--this he deposited in the safe, locked it up, and dropped the keys
+in his pocket. The window beside the safe was open. He sat down, looking
+out into the Square.
+
+At this moment Checkley opened the door softly, after his wont, to bring
+in more letters. He stopped short, seeing his master thus seated, head
+in hand, at the window. He recognised the symptoms of yesterday--the
+rapt look, the open eyes that saw nothing. He crept on tiptoe across the
+room. 'Hush!' he whispered. 'Don't move. Don't speak. He went like this
+yesterday. Don't make the least noise. He'll come round presently.'
+
+'What is it?'
+
+'Kind of fit, it is. Trouble done it. Yah! Ingratitood.' He would have
+hissed the word, but it has no sibilant. You can't hiss without the
+materials. 'Yesterday's trouble. That's what's done it.'
+
+They stood watching in silence for about ten minutes. The office was
+like the Court of the sleeping Princess. Then Checkley sneezed. Mr.
+Dering probably mistook the sneeze for a kiss, for he closed his eyes
+for a moment, opened them again, and arose once more himself, grave and
+austere.
+
+He nodded cheerfully, took off his hat, hung it on its peg, buttoned his
+coat, and threw open the safe. Evidently he remembered nothing of what
+had just passed.
+
+'You are early, George,' he said. 'You are before me, which is unusual.
+However--the early bird--we know.'
+
+'Before you for once. Are you quite well this morning? None the worse
+for yesterday's trouble?'
+
+'He's always well,' said Checkley, with cheerfulness assumed. 'Nobody
+ever sees him ill--_he_ get ill? Not him. Eats as hearty as
+five-and-twenty and walks as upright.'
+
+'I am perfectly well, to the best of my knowledge. Yesterday's business
+upset me for the time--but it did not keep me awake. Yet it is certainly
+a very great trouble. You have no news, I suppose, that brought you here
+earlier than usual?'
+
+'Nothing new since yesterday.'
+
+'And you feel pretty confident?'
+
+'I feel like a sleuth-hound. I understand the pleasures of the chase. I
+long to be on the scent again. As for Edmund Gray, he is as good as in
+prison already.'
+
+'Good. I was for the moment shaken out of myself. I was bewildered. I
+was unable to look at the facts of the case calmly. For the first time
+in my life I wanted advice. Well: I now understand what a great thing it
+is that our profession exists for the assistance of men in trouble. How
+would the world get along at all without solicitors?'
+
+He took his usual place at the table and turned over his letters. 'This
+morning,' he went on, 'I feel more assured: my mind is clear again. I
+can talk about the case. Now then. Let us see--Edmund Gray is no shadow
+but a man. He has made me recommend him to his landlord. He is a clever
+man and a bold man. Don't be in a hurry about putting your hands upon
+him. Complete your case before you strike. But make no delay.'
+
+'There shall be none. And you shall hear everything from day to day, or
+from hour to hour.'
+
+Left alone, Mr. Dering returned to his papers and his work.
+
+At half-past one, Checkley looked in. 'Not going to take lunch this
+morning?'
+
+'Lunch? I have only just----' Mr. Dering looked at his watch. 'Bless me!
+Most extraordinary! This morning has slipped away. I thought I had only
+just sat down. It seems not more than half an hour since Mr. Austin left
+me. Why, I should have forgotten all about it and let the time go
+by--nothing worse for a man of my years than irregular feeding.'
+
+'It's lucky you've got me,' said his clerk. 'Half-a-dozen partners
+wouldn't look after your meal-times.--Ah!' as his master went up-stairs
+to the room where he always had his luncheon laid out, 'he's clean
+forgotten. Some of these days, walking about wropped up in his thoughts,
+he'll be run over.--Clean forgotten it, he has. Sits down in a dream:
+walks about in a dream: some of these days he'll do something in a
+dream. Then there will be trouble.' He closed the door and returned to
+his own desk, where he was alone, the juniors having gone out to dinner.
+His own dinner was in his coat pocket. It consisted of a saveloy cut in
+thin slices and laid in bread with butter and mustard--a tasty meal. He
+slowly devoured the whole to the last crumb. Then, Mr. Dering having by
+this time finished his lunch and descended again, Checkley went
+up-stairs and finished the pint of claret of which his master had taken
+one glass. 'It's sour stuff,' he said. 'It don't behave as wine in a
+man's inside ought to behave. It don't make him a bit joyfuller. But
+it's pleasant too. Why they can't drink Port wine--which is real
+wine--when they can afford it, I don't know.'
+
+It was past three in the afternoon when George returned, not quite so
+confident in his bearing, yet full of news.
+
+'If you are quite ready to listen,' he said, 'I've got a good deal to
+tell. First of all, I thought I would have another shot at Gray's Inn. I
+went to the Chambers. The outer door was open, which looked as if the
+man was at home. I knocked at the inner door, which was opened by the
+laundress, the old woman whom I saw yesterday. "Well, sir," she said,
+"you are unlucky. The master has been here this very morning. And he
+hasn't been long gone. You've only missed him by half an hour or so." I
+asked her if he would return that day; but she knew nothing. Then I
+asked her if she would let me write and leave a note for him. To this
+she consented, rather unwillingly. I went in therefore, and wrote my
+note at Mr. Gray's table. I asked him to call here on important
+business, and I marked the note "Urgent." I think there can be no harm
+in that. Then I looked about the room. It is one of those old wainscoted
+rooms, furnished simply, but everything solid and good--a long table,
+nearly as large as this one of yours: solid chairs--a solid sofa. Three
+or four pictures on the wall, and a bookcase full of books. No signs of
+occupation: no letters: no flowers. Everything covered with dust,
+although the old woman was there. I could have wished to examine the
+papers on the table, but the presence of the old woman forbade that
+dishonourable act. I did, however, look at the books. And I made a most
+curious discovery. Mr. Edmund Gray is a Socialist. All his books are on
+Socialism: they are in French, German, and English: all books of
+Socialism. And the pictures on the wall are portraits of distinguished
+Socialists. Isn't that wonderful? Did one ever hear before of Socialism
+and forgery going together?'
+
+'Not too fast. We haven't yet connected Edmund Gray with the forgery. At
+present, we only know that his name was used.'
+
+'Wait a bit. I am coming to that. After leaving the Chambers, I went
+into the City and saw Mr. Ellis. First of all, none of the stock has
+been sold.'
+
+'Oh! they have had three months, and they have not disposed of it? They
+must have met with unforeseen difficulties. Let me see.'
+
+Mr. Dering was now thoroughly alert. The weakness of the morning had
+completely passed away. 'What difficulties? Upon my word, I cannot
+understand that there could have been any. They have got the papers from
+a respectable solicitor through a respectable broker. No--no. Their
+course was perfectly plain. But rogues often break down through their
+inability to see the strength of their own case.'
+
+'Next, Mr. Ellis has ascertained that some of the dividends are received
+by your Bank. I therefore called on the manager. Now, be prepared for
+another surprise.'
+
+'Another forgery?'
+
+'Yes--another forgery. It is nine or ten years since you sent a letter
+to the manager--I saw it--introducing your client Edmund Gray,
+gentleman, who was desirous of opening a private account. He paid in a
+small sum of money, which has been lying to his credit ever since, and
+has not been touched. In February last he received another letter from
+you; and again in March and April, forwarding certificates, and
+requesting him to receive the dividends. With your own hand you placed
+the papers in the Bank. I saw the letters. I would swear to your
+handwriting.'
+
+'These people are as clever as they are audacious.'
+
+'At every point a letter from you--a letter which the ablest expert
+would tell was your handwriting. Your name covers and vouches for
+everything.'
+
+'Did you tell the manager what has happened?'
+
+'Certainly; I told him everything. And this is in substance the line he
+takes. "Your Partner," he says, "alleges that those papers have been
+procured by forgery. He says that the letter of introduction is a
+forgery. Very good. It may be so. But I have opened this account for a
+customer who brought me an introduction from the best solicitor in
+London, whose handwriting I know well, and recognise in the letter. Such
+an allegation would not be enough in itself for me to take action: until
+a civil or criminal action is brought--until it is concluded--I could
+not refuse to treat the customer like all the rest. At the same time I
+will take what steps I can to inquire into my customer's antecedents."'
+
+'Quite right,' said Mr. Dering.
+
+'I asked him next, what he would do if the customer sent for the papers.
+He said that if an action were brought, he would probably be served with
+a _sub poena duces tecum_, making him keep and produce these papers as
+forming part of the documents in the case.'
+
+'Certainly, certainly; the manager knows his law.'
+
+'"And," he went on, "as regards cheques, I shall pay them or receive
+them until restrained."'
+
+'In other words, he said what we expected. For our own action now.'
+
+'We might apply to a judge in Chambers for an attachment or a garnishee
+order. That must be _pendente lite_, an interlocutory proceeding, in the
+action. As yet, we have not brought an action at all. My partner'--Mr.
+Dering rubbed his hands cheerfully--'I think we have done very well so
+far. These are clumsy scoundrels, after all. They thought to divert
+suspicion by using my name. They thought to cover themselves with my
+name. But they should have sold and realised without the least delay.
+Very good. We have now got our hands upon the papers. It would have
+complicated matters horribly had the stock been sold and transferred. So
+far we are safe. Because, you see, after what they have heard, the Bank
+would certainly not give them up without letting us know. They would
+warn us: they would put the man off: they would ask him awkward
+questions about himself. Oh! I think we are safe--quite safe.'
+
+Mr. Dering drew a long breath. 'I was thinking last night,' he
+continued, 'of the trouble we might have if those certificates had
+changed hands. They might have been bought and sold a dozen times in
+four months: they might have been sold in separate small lots, and an
+order of the Court necessary for every transaction. We have now nothing
+but the simple question before us: how did the man Edmund Gray get
+possession of this property?'
+
+He sat in silence for a few minutes. Then he went on quietly. 'To lose
+this money would be a heavy blow for me--not all my fortune, nor a
+quarter, but a large sum. I have plenty left. I have no hungry and
+expectant heirs: my people are all wealthy. But yet a very heavy loss.
+And then--to be robbed. I have always wondered why we left off hanging
+robbers. They ought to be hanged, every one. He who invades the sacred
+right of property should be killed--killed without hope of mercy.' He
+spoke with the earnestness of sincerity. 'To lose this property would
+not be ruin to me; yet it would be terrible. It would take so many years
+out of my past life. Every year means so much money saved. Forty
+thousand pounds means ten years of my past--not taken away so that I
+should be ten years younger, but, ten years of work annihilated. Could I
+forgive the man who would so injure me? Never.'
+
+'I understand,' said George. 'Fortunately, we shall get the papers
+back. The fact of their possession must connect the possessor with
+the fraud. Who is he? Can he be warned already? Yet who should tell
+him? Who knows that we have discovered the business? You--your friend
+Mr. Ellis--the manager of the Bank--no one else. Yes--there is also
+Checkley--Checkley,' he repeated. He could not--yet--express his
+suspicions as to the old and faithful servant. 'Checkley also knows.'
+
+At this point Checkley himself opened the door and brought in a
+card--that of the Bank manager.
+
+'I have called,' said the visitor hurriedly, 'to tell you of something
+important, that happened this morning. I did not know it when we were
+talking over this business, Mr. Austin. It happened at ten o'clock, as
+soon as the doors were open. A letter was brought by hand from Mr.
+Dering----'
+
+'Another forgery! When will they stop?'
+
+'----asking for those certificates to be given to the bearer--Mr. Edmund
+Gray's certificates. This was done. They are no longer at the Bank.'
+
+'Oh! Then they have been warned,' cried George. 'Who was the messenger?'
+
+'He was a boy. Looked like an office boy.'
+
+'I will inquire directly if it was one of our boys. Go on.'
+
+'That settles the difficulty as to our action in case the papers are
+wanted by you. We no longer hold them. As to the dividends, we shall
+continue to receive them to the account of Mr. Edmund Gray until we get
+an order or an injunction.'
+
+'The difficulty,' said George, 'is to connect the case with Mr. Edmund
+Gray bodily. At present, we have nothing but the letters to go upon.
+Suppose the real Edmund Gray says that he knows nothing about it. What
+are we to do? You remember receiving the dividends for him. Has he drawn
+a cheque?'
+
+'No; we have never paid any cheque at all for him.'
+
+'Have you seen him?'
+
+'No; I have never seen him.'
+
+'It is a most wonderful puzzle. After all, the withdrawal of the papers
+can only mean a resolution to sell them. He must instruct somebody. He
+must appear in the matter.'
+
+'He may instruct somebody as he instructed me--in the name of Mr.
+Dering.'
+
+'Another forgery.'
+
+'Yes,' said George. 'We must watch and find out this mysterious Edmund
+Gray. After all, it will not help us to say that a forged letter gave
+certain instructions to do certain things for a certain person--say the
+Queen--unless you can establish the complicity of that person. And
+that--so far--we certainly have not done. Meantime--what next?'
+
+Obviously, the next thing was to find out if any of the office boys had
+taken that letter to the Bank. No one had been sent on that errand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+CHECKLEY'S CASE
+
+
+That evening Mr. Checkley was not in his customary place at the
+_Salutation_, where his presence was greatly desired. He arrived late,
+when it wanted only a quarter to eleven. The faded barrister was left
+alone in the room, lingering over the day's paper with his empty glass
+beside him. Mr. Checkley entered with an air of triumph, and something
+like the elastic spring of a victor in his aged step. He called Robert,
+and ordered at his own expense, for himself, a costly drink--a compound
+of Jamaica rum, hot water, sugar and lemon, although it was an evening
+in July and, for the time of year, almost pleasantly warm. Nor did he
+stop here, for with the manner of a man who just for once--to mark a
+joyful occasion--plunges, he rattled his money in his pocket and ordered
+another for the barrister. 'For,' he said, 'this evening I have done a
+good work, and I will mark the day.'
+
+When the glasses were brought, he lifted his and cried: 'Come, let us
+drink to the confusion of all Rogues, great and small. Down with 'em!'
+
+'Your toast, Mr. Checkley,' replied the barrister, 'would make my
+profession useless; if there were no rogues, there would be no Law.
+That, however, would injure me less than many of my brethren. I drink,
+therefore, confusion to Rogues, great and small. Down with 'em.--This is
+excellent grog.--Down with 'em!' So saying, he finished his glass and
+departed to his garret, where, thanks to the grog, he slept nobly, and
+dreamed that he was a Master in Chancery.
+
+The reason of this unaccustomed mirth was as follows: Checkley by this
+time had fully established in his own mind the conclusion that the
+prime mover in the deed--the act--the Thing--was none other than the new
+partner, the young upstart, whom he hated with a hatred
+unextinguishable. He was as certain about him as he had been certain
+about Athelstan Arundel, and for much the same reasons. Very well. As
+yet he had not dared to speak: King Pharaoh's chief scribe would have
+had the same hesitation at proffering any theory concerning Joseph.
+To-night, however---- But you shall hear.
+
+Everybody was out of the office at half-past seven, when he left it. He
+walked round the empty rooms, looking into unlocked drawers--one knows
+not what he expected to find. He looked into Mr. Austin's room and shook
+his fist and grinned at the empty chair.
+
+'I'll have you yet,' he said. 'Oh, fox! fox! I'll have you, if I wait
+for thirty years?'
+
+It adds an additional pang to old age when one feels that if the end
+comes prematurely, when one is only ninety or so, there may be a revenge
+unfinished. I have always envied the dying hero who had no enemies to
+forgive because he had killed them all.
+
+When Checkley left the place he walked across the Inn and so into
+Chancery Lane, where he crossed over and entered Gray's Inn by the
+Holborn archway. He lingered in South Square: he walked all round it
+twice: he read the names on the door-posts, keeping all the time an eye
+on No. 22. Presently, he was rewarded. A figure which he knew, tall and
+well proportioned, head flung back, walked into the Inn and made
+straight for No. 22. It was none other than Athelstan Arundel.--The old
+man crept into the entrance, where he was partly hidden; he could see
+across the Square, himself unseen. Athelstan walked into the house and
+up the stairs: the place was quiet: Checkley could hear his steps on the
+wooden stairs: he heard him knock at a door--he heard the door open and
+the voices of men talking.
+
+'Ah!' said Checkley, 'now we've got 'em!'
+
+Well--but this was not all. For presently there came into the Inn young
+Austin himself.
+
+'Oh!' said Checkley, finishing his sentence--'on toast. Here's the
+other; here they are--both.'
+
+In fact, George, too, entered the house known as No. 22 and walked up
+the stairs.
+
+Checkley waited for no more. He ran out of the Inn and he called a cab.
+
+If he had waited a little longer, he would have seen the new partner
+come out of the house and walk away: if he had followed him up the
+stairs, he would have seen him knocking at the closed outer door of Mr.
+Edmund Gray. If he had knocked at the door opposite, he would have found
+Mr. Athelstan Arundel in the room with his own acquaintance, Mr. Freddy
+Carstone, the Cambridge scholar and the ornament of their circle at the
+_Salutation_. But being in a hurry, he jumped to a conclusion and called
+a cab.
+
+He drove to Palace Gardens, where Sir Samuel had his town-house. Sir
+Samuel was still at dinner. He sat down in the hall, meekly waiting.
+After a while the Service condescended to ask if he wished a message to
+be taken in to Sir Samuel.
+
+'From his brother's--from Mr. Dering's office, please tell him. From his
+brother's office--on most important business--most important--say.'
+
+Sir Samuel received him kindly, made him sit down, and gave him a glass
+of wine. 'Now,' he said, 'tell me what it all means. My brother has had
+a robbery--papers and certificates and things--of course they are
+stopped. He won't lose anything. But it is a great nuisance, this kind
+of thing.'
+
+'He has already lost four months' dividends--four months, sir, on
+thirty-eight thousand pounds. And do you really think that he will get
+back his papers?'
+
+'Certainly--or others. They are, after all, only vouchers. How is my
+brother?'
+
+'Well, Sir Samuel, better than you'd think likely. This morning, to be
+sure----' He stopped, being loth to tell how his master had lost
+consciousness. 'Well, sir, I've been thinking that the property was
+gone, and from what I know of them as had to do with the job, I thought
+there was mighty little chance of getting it back. It kept me awake. Oh!
+it's an awful sum. Close upon forty thousand pounds. He can stand that
+and double that----'
+
+'And double that again,' said Sir Samuel. 'I should hope so.'
+
+'Certainly, sir. But it's a blow-- I can feel for him. I'm only a clerk;
+but I've saved a bit and put out a bit, Sir Samuel. Cheese-parings,
+you'd say; but I've enjoyed saving it up--oh! I've enjoyed it. I don't
+think there is any pleasure in life like saving up--watching it
+grow--and grow and grow--it grows like a pretty flower, doesn't it?--and
+adding to it. Ah!' he sighed, and drank his glass of wine. 'Sir Samuel,
+if I was to lose my little savings, it would break my heart. I'm an old
+man, and so is he--it would break me up, it would indeed. Ever since
+yesterday morning, I've been thinking whether anything could happen to
+make me lose my money. There's Death in the thought. Sir Samuel--for an
+old man--and a small man--like me--there's Death in the thought.'
+
+'Don't tell anybody where your investments are, and lock up the papers,
+Checkley.--Now, what do you want me to do for you?'
+
+'I want you to listen to me for half an hour, Sir Samuel, and to give me
+your advice, for the business is too much for me.'
+
+'Go on, then. I am listening.'
+
+'Very well. Now, sir, I don't know if I shall be able to make my case
+clear--but I will try. I haven't been about Mr. Dering for fifty years
+for nothing, I hope. The case is this. Nine years ago, a man calling
+himself Edmund Gray took Chambers in South Square, Gray's Inn, forty
+pounds a year. He is represented as being an elderly man. He has paid
+his rent regularly, but he visits his Chambers at irregular intervals.
+Eight years ago there was a forgery at your brother's. The cheque was
+payable to the order of Edmund Gray; mark that. The money was paid----'
+
+'I remember. Athelstan Arundel was accused or suspected of the thing.'
+
+'He was. And he ran away to avoid being arrested. Remember that. And
+he's never been heard of since. Well, the series of forgeries by which
+the shares and stocks belonging to Mr. Dering have been stolen are all
+written in the same handwriting as the first, and are all carried on in
+the name and for the order of Edmund Gray. That you would acknowledge in
+a moment if you saw the papers: there are the same lines and curves of
+the letters----'
+
+'Which proves, I should say, that Athelstan never did it.'
+
+'Wait a minute. Don't let's be in a hurry. The forgers by themselves
+could do nothing. They wanted some one in the office, some one always
+about the place: some one who could get at the safe: some one who could
+get from the office what the man outside wanted: some one to intercept
+the letters----'
+
+'Well?'
+
+'That person, Sir Samuel, I have found.'
+
+Sir Samuel sat up. 'You have found him?'
+
+'I have. And here's my difficulty. Because, Sir Samuel, he is your
+brother's new partner; and unless we lodge him in the Jug before many
+days, he will be your own brother-in-law.'
+
+Sir Samuel changed colour, and got up to see that the door behind the
+screen was shut. 'This is a very serious thing to say, Checkley--a very
+serious thing.'
+
+'Oh! I will make it quite plain. First, as to opportunities; next, as to
+motives; third, as to facts. For opportunities, then. Latterly, for the
+last six months, he's been working in the Chief's office nearly all day
+long. There he sat, at the little table between the windows, just half
+turned round to catch the light, with the open safe within easy reach of
+his hand when the Chief wasn't looking; or when--because he doesn't
+always touch the bell--Mr. Dering would bring papers into my office and
+leave him alone--ah! alone--with the safe. That's for opportunities. Now
+for motives. He's been engaged for two years, I understand, to a young
+lady----'
+
+'To Lady Dering's sister.'
+
+'Just so, sir. And I believe, until the unexpected luck of his
+partnership, against the wish of Lady Dering's family.'
+
+'That is true.'
+
+'He had two hundred a year. And he had nothing else--no prospects and no
+chances. So I think you will acknowledge that there's sufficient motive
+here for him to try anything.'
+
+'Well, if poverty is a motive--no doubt he had one.'
+
+'Poverty was the motive. You couldn't have a stronger motive. There
+isn't in the whole world a stronger motive--though, I admit, some young
+men who are pore may keep honest. I did. Mr. Austin, I take it, is one
+of those that don't keep honest. That's for motive. Now for facts. Mr.
+Austin had nothing to do with the forgery eight years ago; he was only
+an articled clerk beginning. But he knew young Arundel who did the
+thing, remember. That cheque was written by young Arundel, who ran away.
+The letters of this year are written by _the same hand_--by your
+brother-in-law, Sir Samuel--by Mr. Athelstan Arundel.'
+
+'But he is gone: he has disappeared: nobody knows where he is.'
+
+Checkley laughed. This was a moment of triumph. 'He is back again, Sir
+Samuel. I have seen him.'
+
+'Where? Athelstan back again?'
+
+'I will tell you. All these forgeries use the name of Edmund Gray, of 22
+South Square, Gray's Inn. I have told you that before. When the thing is
+discovered, young Austin goes off and makes himself mighty busy tracking
+and following up, hunting down, doing detective work, and so on. Oh! who
+so busy as he? Found out that Edmund Gray was an old man, if you please;
+and this morning again, so cheerful and lively that it does your heart
+good--going to settle it all in a day or two. Yah! As if I couldn't see
+through his cunning! Why! I'm seventy-five years old. I'm up to every
+kind of dodge: what will happen next, unless you cut in? First, we shall
+hear that Mr. Edmund Gray has gone abroad, or has vanished, or
+something. When he's quite out of the way, we shall find out that he did
+the whole thing--him and nobody else. And then if there's no more money
+to be made by keeping the papers, they will all come back--from Edmund
+Gray, penitent--oh! I know.'
+
+'But about Athelstan Arundel?'
+
+'To be sure. I'm an old man, Sir Samuel, and I talk too much. Well, I go
+most nights to a parlour in Holborn--the _Salutation_ it is--where the
+company is select and the liquor good. There I saw him a week ago. He
+was brought in by one of the company. I knew him at once, and he wasn't
+in hiding. Used his own name. But he didn't see me. No--no, thinks I. We
+won't give this away. I hid my face behind a newspaper. He's been
+staying in Camberwell for the last eight years, I believe, all the
+time.'
+
+'In Camberwell? Why in Camberwell?'
+
+'In bad company--as I was given to understand. In Prodigal Son's
+company.'
+
+'You don't mean this, Checkley? Is it really true?'
+
+'It is perfectly true, Sir Samuel. I have seen him. He was dressed like
+a Prince--velvet jacket and crimson tie and white waistcoat. And he
+walked in with just his old insolence--nose up, head back, looking round
+as if we were not fit to be in the same room with him--just as he used
+to do.'
+
+'By Jove!' said Sir Samuel, thrusting his hands into his pockets. 'What
+will Hilda say--I mean--Lady Dering, say, when she hears it?'
+
+'There is more to hear, Sir Samuel--not much more. But it drives the
+nail home--a nail in their coffin, I hope and trust.'
+
+'Go on. Let me hear all.'
+
+'You've caught on, have you, to all I said about Edmund Gray of 22 South
+Square--him as was mentioned eight years ago--and about the handwriting
+being the same now as then?'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'So that the same hand which forged the cheque then has forged the
+letters now?'
+
+'Quite so.'
+
+'I said then--and I say now--that young Arundel forged that cheque. I
+say now that he is the forger of these letters, and that Austin stood in
+with him and was his confidant. What do you think of this? To-night,
+after office, I thought I would go and have a look at 22 South Square.
+So I walked up and down on the other side: my eyes are pretty good
+still: I thought I should perhaps see something presently over the way.
+So I did. Who should come into the Square, marching along as if the old
+place, Benchers and all, belonged to him, but Mr. Athelstan Arundel! He
+pulled up at No. 22--No. 22, mind--Edmund Gray's number--he walked
+up-stairs--I heard him--to the second floor--Edmund Gray's floor.'
+
+'Good Lord!' cried Sir Samuel. 'This is suspicious with a vengeance.'
+
+'Oh! but I haven't done. I stayed where I was, wondering if he would
+come down, and whether I should meet him and ask him what he was doing
+with Edmund Gray. And then--I was richly rewarded--oh! rich was the
+reward, for who should come into the Square but young Austin himself!
+He, too, went up the stairs of No. 22. And there I left them both, and
+came away--came to put the case into your hands.'
+
+'What do you want me to do?'
+
+'I want you to advise me. What shall I do? There is my case complete--I
+don't suppose you want a more complete case--for any Court of Justice.'
+
+'Well, as for that, I'm not a lawyer. As a City man, if a clerk of mine
+was in such a suspicious position as young Austin, I should ask him for
+full explanations. You've got no actual proof, you see, that he, or
+Athelstan either, did the thing.'
+
+'I beg your pardon, Sir Samuel. I'm only a clerk, and you're a great
+City Knight, but I don't know what better proof you want. Don't I see
+young Austin pretending not to know who Edmund Gray is, and then going
+up to his Chambers to meet his pal Athelstan Arundel? Ain't that proof?
+Don't I tell you that the same hand had been at work in both forgeries?
+Isn't that hand young Arundel's?'
+
+'Checkley, I see that you are greatly interested in this matter----'
+
+'I would give--ah!--twenty pounds--yes, twenty hard-earned pounds to see
+those two young gentlemen in the Dock--where they shall be--where they
+shall be,' he repeated. His trembling voice, cracked with old age,
+seemed unequally wedded to the malignity of his words and his
+expression.
+
+'One of these young gentlemen,' said Sir Samuel, 'is my brother-in-law.
+The other, unless this business prevents, will be my brother-in-law
+before many days. You will, therefore, understand that my endeavours
+will be to keep them both out of the Dock.'
+
+'The job will be only half complete without; but still--to see young
+Austin drove out of the place--with disgrace--same as the other one
+was--why, that should be something--something to think about
+afterwards.'
+
+Checkley went away. Sir Samuel sat thinking what was best to be done.
+Like everybody else, he quite believed in Athelstan's guilt. Granted
+that fact, he saw clearly that there was another very black-looking case
+against him and against George Austin. What should be done? He would
+consult his wife. He did so.
+
+'What will Elsie say?' she asked. 'Yet, sooner or later, she must be
+told. I suppose that will be my task. But she can wait a little. Do you
+go to-morrow morning to Mr. Dering and tell him. The sooner he knows the
+better.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+You now understand why Mr. Checkley was so joyous when he arrived at the
+_Salutation_, and why he proposed that toast.
+
+In the morning Sir Samuel saw his brother and whispered in his ear the
+whole of the case, as prepared and drawn up by Checkley. 'What do you
+say?' he asked when he had concluded.
+
+'I say nothing.' Mr. Dering had heard all the points brought out one
+after the other without the least emotion. 'There is nothing to be
+said.'
+
+'But, my dear brother, the evidence!'
+
+'There is no evidence. It is all supposition. If Athelstan committed the
+first forgery--there is no evidence to show that he did--if he has been
+living all these years a life of profligacy in England--I have evidence
+to the contrary in my own possession--if he was tempted by poverty--if
+young Austin was also tempted by poverty--if the two together--or either
+separately--could undertake, under temptation, risks so terrible--you
+see, the whole case is built upon an "if."'
+
+'Yet it holds together at every point. It is a perfect case. Who else
+could do it? Checkley certainly could not. That old man--that old
+servant.'
+
+'I agree with you, Checkley could not do it. Not because he is too
+old--age has nothing to do with crime--nor because he is an old servant.
+He could not do it because he is not clever enough. This kind of thing
+wants grasp and vision. Checkley hasn't got either. He might be a
+confederate. He may have stopped the letters. He is miserly--he might be
+tempted by money. Yet I do not think it possible.'
+
+'No--I cannot believe that,' said Sir Samuel.
+
+'Yet it is quite as difficult to believe such a thing of young Austin.
+Oh! I know everything is possible. He belongs to a good family: he has
+his own people to think of: he is engaged--he has always led a blameless
+life. Yet--yet--everything is possible.'
+
+'I have known cases in the City where the blameless seeming was only a
+pretence and a cloak--most deplorable cases, I assure you--the cloak to
+hide a profligate life.'
+
+'I think if that were so, I should not be deceived. Outward signs in
+such cases are not wanting. I know the face of the profligate, open or
+concealed. Young Austin presents no sign of anything but a regular and
+blameless life. For all these reasons, I say, we ought to believe him
+incapable of any dishonourable action. But I have been in practice for
+fifty years--fifty years--during this long period I know not how many
+cases--what are called family cases--have been in my hands. I have had
+in this room the trembling old profligate of seventy, ready to pay any
+price rather than let the thing be known to his old wife, who believes
+in him, and his daughters, who worship him. I have had the middle-aged
+man of standing in the City imploring me to buy back the paper--at any
+price--which would stamp him with infamy. I have had the young man on
+his knees begging me never to let his father know the forgery, the
+theft, the villainy, the seduction--what not. And I have had women of
+every age sitting in that chair confessing their wickedness, which they
+do for the most part with hard faces and cold eyes, not like the men,
+with shame and tears. The men fall being tempted by want of money, which
+means loss of pride and self-respect, and position, and comfort. There
+ought to have been a clause in the Litany, "From want of money at all
+ages and on all occasions, Good Lord, deliver us."'
+
+'True--most true,' said Sir Samuel. '"From want of money"--I shall say
+this next time I go to church--"from want of money at all ages, and
+particularly when one is getting on in years, and has a title to keep
+up--Good Lord, deliver us." Very good indeed, brother. I shall quote
+this in the City. To-morrow, I have to make a speech at the Helmet
+Makers' Company. I shall quote this very remarkable saying of yours.'
+
+Mr. Dering smiled gravely. 'A simple saying, indeed. The greatest
+temptation of any is the want of money. Why, there is nothing that the
+average man will not do rather than be without money. He is helpless: he
+is a slave: he is in contempt: without money.--Austin, you tell me, was
+tempted by want of money. I think not. He was poor: he had enough to
+keep him: he was frugal: he had simple wants: he had never felt the want
+of money. No--I do not think that he was tempted by poverty. Everything
+is possible--this is possible.--But, brother, silence. If you speak
+about this, you may injure the young man, supposing him to be innocent.
+If he is guilty, you will put him on his guard. And, mind, I shall show
+no foolish mercy--none--when we find the guilty parties. All the more
+reason, therefore, for silence.'
+
+Sir Samuel promised. But he had parted with the secret--he had given it
+into the keeping of a woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+WHO IS EDMUND GRAY?
+
+
+Athelstan laughed on the first hearing of the thing--it was on the
+Tuesday evening, the day after the discovery, and George was dining with
+him. He laughed both loud and long and with some of the old bitterness.
+'So the notes were in the safe all along, were they? Who put them there?
+"I," says old Checkley, "with my pretty fingers--I put them there."'
+
+'As soon as this other business is over, the Chief must tell your
+mother, Athelstan. It ought to come from him. I shall say nothing to
+Elsie just yet. She shall learn that you are home again, and that your
+name is clear again, at the same moment.'
+
+'I confess that I should be pleased to make them all confess that their
+suspicions were hasty and unfounded. At the same time I did wrong to go
+away; I ought to have stuck to my post. As for this other business, one
+thinks with something like satisfaction of the wise old lawyer losing
+forty thousand pounds. It made him sit up, did it? For such a man to sit
+up indicates the presence of deep emotion. Lost forty thousand pounds!
+And he who holds so strongly to the sanctity of Property! Forty thousand
+pounds!'
+
+'Well; but we shall recover the certificates, or get new ones in their
+place.'
+
+'I suppose so. Shares can't be lost or stolen, really--can they?
+Meantime, there may be difficulty, and you must try to find the forger.
+Has it yet occurred to you that Checkley is the only man who has had
+control of the letters and access at all times to the office?'
+
+'It has.'
+
+'Checkley is not exactly a fox: he is a jackal: therefore he does
+somebody's dirty work for him at a wage. That is the way with the
+jackal, you know. Eight years ago he tried to make a little pile by a
+little forgery--he did not commit the forgery, I am sure--but he did the
+jackal; only he forgot that notes are numbered: so when he remembered
+that, he put them back. Now, his friend the forger, who is no doubt a
+begging-letter writer, has devised an elaborate scheme for getting hold
+of shares--ignorant that they are of no value.'
+
+'Well, he has drawn the dividends for four months.'
+
+'That is something, you see; but he hoped to get hold of thirty-eight
+thousand pounds. It is the same hand at work, you infer from the
+writing. You are quite sure of that?'
+
+'There can be no doubt of it. How could two different hands present
+exactly the same curious singularities?'
+
+'And all the letters, cheques, and transfers for the same person. What
+is his name?'
+
+'One Edmund Gray, resident at 22 South Square, Gray's Inn.'
+
+'No. 22? Oh! that is where Freddy Carstone lives. Do you know anything
+about the _nomme_ Edmund Gray?'
+
+'I have been in search of information about him. He is described by the
+landlord of the rooms and by his laundress as an elderly gentleman.'
+
+'Elderly. Checkley is elderly.'
+
+'Yes, I thought of Checkley, of course. But somehow the indications
+don't fit. My informants speak of a gentleman. Nobody at his kindliest
+and most benevolent mood could possibly call Checkley a gentleman.'
+
+'The word gentleman,' said Athelstan, 'is elastic. It stretches with the
+employer or the consumer of it. It is like the word truth to a
+politician. It varies from man to man. You cannot lay down any
+definition of the word gentleman. Do you know nothing more about him?'
+
+'A little. He has held this set of Chambers for nine years, and he pays
+his rent regularly before the day it falls due. Also I called upon him
+the other day when his laundress was at work and wrote a note to him at
+his table. The room is full of Socialist books and pamphlets. He is
+therefore, presumably, a Socialist leader.'
+
+'I know all their leaders,' said Athelstan the Journalist.
+
+'I've made the acquaintance of most for business purposes. I've had to
+read up the Socialist Literature and to make the acquaintance of their
+chiefs. There is no Edmund Gray among them. Stay--there is a Socialist
+letter in the _Times_ of to-day--surely---- Waiter'--they were dining at
+the club where Athelstan was a temporary member--'let me have the
+_Times_ of to-day. Yes, I thought so. Here is a letter from the
+Socialist point of view, signed by Edmund Gray--and--and yes--look
+here--it is most curious--with the same address--22 South Square--a long
+letter, in small print, and put in the supplement; but it's there. See;
+signed "Edmund Gray." What do you think of that, for impudence in a
+forger?'
+
+George read the letter through carefully. It was a whole column long;
+and it was in advocacy of Socialism pure and simple. One was surprised
+that the editor had allowed it to appear. Probably he was influenced by
+the tone of it, which was generous, cheerful, and optimistic. There was
+not the slightest ring of bitterness about it. 'We who look,' it said,
+'for the coming disappearance of Property, not by violence and
+revolution, but by a rapid process of decay and wasting away, regard the
+present position of the holders of Property with the greatest
+satisfaction. Everywhere there are encouraging signs. Money which
+formerly obtained five per cent. now yields no more than half that rate.
+Shares which were formerly paying ten, twelve, and twenty per cent. are
+now falling steadily. Companies started every day in the despairing hope
+of the old great gains, fail and are wound up. Land, which the old wars
+forced up to an extraordinary value, has now sunk so enormously that
+many landlords have lost three-fourths and even more of their income.
+All those enterprises which require the employment of many hands--as
+docks, railways, printing-houses, manufactories of all kinds--are
+rapidly falling into the condition of being able to pay no dividend at
+all, because the pay of the men and the maintenance of the plant absorb
+all. When that point is reached, the whole capital--the
+millions--embarked in these enterprises will be lost for ever. The stock
+cannot be sold because it produces nothing: it has vanished. In other
+words, sir, what I desire to point out to your readers is that while you
+are discussing or denouncing Socialism, the one condition which makes
+Socialism possible and necessary is actually coming upon the
+world--namely, the destruction of capital. Why have not men in all ages
+combined to work for themselves? Because capital has prevented them.
+When there is no capital left to employ them, to bully them, to make
+laws against their combinations, or to bribe them, they will then have
+to work with and for themselves or starve. The thing will be forced upon
+them. Work will be a necessity for everybody: there will be no more a
+privileged class: all who work will be paid at equal rates for their
+work: those who refuse to work will be suffered to starve.'
+
+The letter went on to give illustrations of the enormous losses in
+capital during the last fifteen years, when the shrinkage began. It
+concluded: 'For my own part, I confess that the prospect of the future
+fills me with satisfaction. No more young men idle, middle-aged men
+pampered, and old men looking back to a wasted life: nobody trying to
+save, because the future of the old, the widows, the children, the
+decayed, and the helpless, will be a charge upon the strong and the
+young--that is, upon the juvenes, the workers of the State. No more
+robbery: no more unproductive classes. Do not think that there will be
+no more men of science and of learning. These, too, will be considered
+workers. Or no more poets, dramatists, artists, novelists. These, too,
+will be considered workers. And do not fear the coming of that time. It
+is stealing upon us as surely, as certainly, as the decay of the powers
+in old age. Doubt not that when it comes we shall have become well
+prepared for it. Those of us who are old may lament that we shall not
+live to see the day when the last shred of property is cast into the
+common hoard. Those of us who are young have all the more reason to
+rejoice in their youth, because they may live to see the Great Day of
+Humanity dawn at last.--EDMUND GRAY, 22 South Square, Gray's Inn.'
+
+'You have read this?' asked George.
+
+'Yes; I read it this morning before I knew the significance of the
+signature. Letter of a dreamer. He sees what might happen, and thinks
+that it will happen. Capital is too strong yet.'
+
+'Is this the letter of a forger, a conspirator--a thief?'
+
+'It does not strike me in that light. Yet many great thieves are most
+amiable in their private lives. There is no reason why this dreamer of
+dreams should not be also a forger and a thief. Still, the case would be
+remarkable, I admit.'
+
+'Can there be two Edmund Grays--father and son?'
+
+'Can there be a clerk to Edmund Gray, imprudently using his master's
+name, and ready to open any letter that may come? Consider--Clerk is a
+friend of old Checkley. Clerk invents the scheme. Checkley does his
+share. However, we can easily find out something more about the man,
+because my old friend, Freddy Carstone, has Chambers on the same floor.
+We will walk over after dinner, and if Freddy happens to be sober--he
+is about this time pleasantly, not stupidly, drunk, as a rule--he will
+tell us what he knows about his neighbour.'
+
+'I ought to see Elsie this evening, but this is more important.'
+
+'Much more. Send her a telegram. Waiter, we will take coffee here. So.
+You have got the conduct of the case in your own hands. What has
+Checkley got?'
+
+'Nothing. I believe he is jealous of me. I don't know why. But it does
+not matter what an old man like that thinks.'
+
+'Even an old man can strike a match and light a fire. Checkley is a
+malignant old man. He is quite capable of charging you with the job. I
+wonder he hasn't done it by this time. Remember my case, old man.'
+Athelstan's face darkened at the recollection. 'Dirt sticks sometimes.
+Look at me. I am smirched all over.'
+
+'His manner was very odd this morning--insolent and strange. He began to
+talk mysteriously of the ingratitude of the forger.'
+
+'Why he's actually going to do it! Don't you see--he means that you are
+the forger?'
+
+'Oh! does he? Very well, Athelstan'--George finished his coffee and got
+up--'the sooner we find out this mystery of this Edmund Gray the better.
+Let us seek your tipsy Scholar.'
+
+They walked from Piccadilly to Holborn, turning the thing over and
+making a dozen surmises. Edmund Gray, twins: Edmund Gray, father and
+son--father wanting to destroy property, a Socialist; son wanting to
+steal property, individualist: Edmund Gray cousins--one the mild
+philosopher, rejoicing in the decay of wealth; the other a bandit,
+robber and conspirator: Edmund Gray, father and daughter--the young lady
+of the advanced type, who has not only thrown over her religion but her
+morals also: Edmund Gray, master and clerk: Edmund Gray under domination
+of a villain: there was in every situation a noble chance for the
+imagination. George showed a capacity unsuspected: he should have been a
+novelist. The hypothesis was always beautiful and admirable: but it
+wanted one thing--_vraisemblance_: one felt, even while advancing and
+defending one, that it was impossible.
+
+They turned into the gateway of the Inn and walked down the passage into
+the Square. 'Look!' Athelstan caught his companion by the wrist. 'Who is
+that?'
+
+'Checkley himself. He is coming out of No 22!'
+
+'Yes, out of 22. What is he doing there? Eh? What has he been doing
+there?'
+
+It was Checkley. The old man walking feebly, with bent head, came out
+from the entrance of No. 22 and turned northward into Field Court. They
+waited, watching him, until he left the Square. 'What is he doing
+there?' asked George again. 'Come. Edmund Gray must be at home. Let us
+go up.'
+
+They found the outer door shut. They knocked with their sticks: there
+was no answer.
+
+'What was he doing here?' asked Athelstan.
+
+The Scholar's door stood open. The Scholar himself was for once
+perfectly sober, and welcomed them joyously and boisterously.
+
+'We are here on business, Freddy,' said Athelstan.
+
+'You are here to sit and talk and drink whisky-and-soda till midnight,
+till two o'clock in the morning. It is not until two in the morning that
+you can get the full flavour of the Inn. It is like a college then,
+monastic, shut off from the world, peaceful----'
+
+'Business first, then. You know your neighbour, Mr. Edmund Gray?'
+
+'Certainly. We exchange the compliments of the season and the news of
+the weather when we meet on the stairs. He has been in here, but not
+often. A man who drinks nothing is your true damper. That, believe me,
+and no other, was the veritable skeleton at the Feast.'
+
+'Our business concerns your neighbour, Mr. Edmund Gray. We want you to
+tell us what you know about him.'
+
+'Go on, then. Question, and I will answer, if I can.'
+
+'Does Mr. Edmund Gray live at these Chambers?'
+
+'No. He may sometimes sleep in them, but I should say not often. He
+calls at irregular intervals. Sometimes in the afternoon, sometimes in
+the morning, sometimes not for several weeks together. He is most
+uncertain.'
+
+'Do many people call upon him?'
+
+'No one ever calls upon him.'
+
+'Does he keep clerks? Does he carry on an extensive correspondence?'
+
+'I have never heard the postman knock at his door.'
+
+'Has he a son or a brother or a partner or anything?'
+
+'I don't know. He may have these hindrances, but they are not apparent.'
+
+'What is his occupation or trade?'
+
+'He is a Socialist. He is athirst for the destruction of property.
+Meantime, I believe, he lives on his own. Perhaps his will be spared to
+the last. He is an old gentleman of pleasant manners and of benevolent
+aspect. The old women beg of him; the children ask him the time; the
+people who have lost their way apply to him. He dreams all the time: he
+lives in a world impossible. Oh! quite impossible. Why, in a world all
+Socialist, I myself should be impossible. They wouldn't have me. My old
+friend told me the other day that I should not be tolerated. They would
+kill me. All because I do no work--or next to none.'
+
+George looked at Athelstan. 'We are farther off than ever,' he said.
+
+'Mr. Edmund Gray believes that the Kingdom of Heaven is a kind of hive
+where everybody has got to work with enormous zeal, and where nobody
+owns anything. Also he thinks that it is close at hand, which makes him
+a very happy old gentleman.'
+
+'This can't be Checkley,' said George.
+
+'It would seem not,' Athelstan replied. 'Did you ever see another old
+man up here--we saw him coming out just now--one Checkley, a lawyer's
+clerk?'
+
+'No; not up here. There is an elderly person--a Party--of the name, who
+uses the parlour of the _Salutation_, where I myself sometimes--one must
+relax--Porson loved a tavern; so did Johnson--I myself, I say, sometimes
+forget that I used to belong to the Combination room, and sit with
+Checkley and his companions. But I do not think he is a friend of Mr.
+Gray. As well call the Verger the friend of the Bishop. Mr. Gray is a
+gentleman and a scholar; he is a man of generous instincts and culture.
+He _could_ not be a friend of the man Checkley.'
+
+'Yet we saw Checkley coming out of this very staircase.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They talked of other things. They talked till midnight; when they came
+away the Scholar was at his best: one more glass--which he took after
+they left--would have turned the best into the worst.
+
+'We are as far off as before,' said George.
+
+'No--we are so much the nearer that we know who Edmund Gray is not. He
+is not Checkley. He has no clerks. He has no visitors. He comes seldom.
+George, this looks to me suspicious. We met Checkley stealing out of the
+door. Why does Edmund Gray keep these Chambers? No business done there:
+no letters brought there: no callers: the man does not live there. The
+Socialism may be--must be--a blind. Why does the man keep on these
+Chambers?'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meantime at the _Salutation_ the usual company was assembled. 'I fear,'
+said the barrister, 'that we shall not have our friend the Scholar here
+this evening. As I came down the stairs I saw him through his door
+receiving two gentlemen--young gentlemen. He will display his wonted
+hospitality upon them this evening instead.' He sighed, and called for
+the glass of old and mild mixed, which was all he could afford. Had the
+Scholar been with them, certainly there would have been a nobler and a
+costlier glass. He took up the morning paper and began to read it.
+
+The conversation went on slowly and with jerks. A dull conversation: a
+conversation of men without ideas: a day-before-yesterday conversation:
+the slow exchange of short, solid sentences taken from the paper, or
+overheard and adopted. We sometimes praise the old tavern life, and we
+regret the tavern talk. We need not: it was dull, gross, ignorant, and
+flat: it was commonplace and conventional: because it was so dull, the
+men were fain to sing songs and to propose sentiments, and to drink more
+than was good for them. Why and when do men drink more than is good for
+them? First, when and because things are desperately dull: there is
+nothing to interest them: give them animation, thoughts, amusements, and
+they will not begin to drink. When they have begun, they will go on.
+When they have arrived at a certain stage, let them drink as fast as
+they can, and so get out of the way, because they will never mend, and
+they only cumber the earth. Here is, you see, a complete solution--a
+short solution--of the whole drink question. It will not be accepted,
+because people like a long solution--a three-column solution.
+
+The barrister lifted his head. 'There is a letter here,' he said,
+interrupting the ex-M.P., who was clearing the way for what he called an
+argument by an introduction in the usual form. 'While on the one hand,
+gentlemen,' he was saying, 'I am free to confess----'
+
+'There is a letter here,' he repeated in a louder voice. The barrister
+was now old, but he could still assume at times the masterful manner of
+counsel before the Court, 'which should be read. It is a letter on
+Socialism.'
+
+'Ugh!' said the money-lender. 'Socialism! They want to destroy Property.
+Socialism! Don't tell me, sir.'
+
+'It is a dream of what might be--a noble--a generous letter.' He looked
+round him. In their dull and fishy eyes there was no gleam or sparkle of
+response. 'I forgot,' he said; 'you cannot be interested in such a
+letter.--I beg your pardon, sir.' He bowed with great courtesy to the
+ex-M.P. 'I interrupted your valuable observations. We shall listen, I am
+sure, with--the--greatest----' He buried his head in the paper again.
+
+The legislator began again. 'As I was a-saying, gentlemen, when I was
+interrupted, on the subject of education and the ratepayers, being a
+ratepayer myself, as we all are, and having our taxes to pay, which is
+the only advantage we ever get from being a ratepayer, while on the one
+hand I am free to confess----'
+
+'Why!' the barrister interrupted once again, 'this letter is from a man
+on our staircase, No. 22'--Checkley started--'an acquaintance of mine,
+if I can call him so, and of our friend the Scholar. A very able man,
+now somewhat in years. By name Edmund Gray.'
+
+'What?' said Checkley, 'Edmund Gray? You know Edmund Gray?'
+
+'Certainly. I have known him this nine years. Ever since he has been in
+the Inn.'
+
+'W-w-what sort of a man is he?' Checkley stammered in his eagerness.
+
+'A very good sort of a man. Why do you ask?'
+
+'I want to know--for his advantage--oh! yes--yes--for his own
+advantage.'
+
+'Yes.' The barrister retreated to his paper. 'Oh, yes,' he added. 'Quite
+so.'
+
+'For his great personal advantage,' Checkley repeated.--'Robert, I think
+the gentleman would take a tumbler, if you will bring it--hot,
+Robert--strong--with lemon and sugar--a large rummer, Robert.'
+
+The ancient barrister's head behind the paper was observed to tremble.
+
+Robert returned with his rummer, the glass spoon tinkling an invitation.
+Dinner had been but a sorry affair that day--a stop-gap--insufficient in
+bulk; the tempted man felt a yearning that could not be resisted. He
+stretched out his hand and took the glass and tasted it. Then turning to
+Checkley:
+
+'You have purchased my speech, sir. You were asking me about Mr. Edmund
+Gray. What do you wish to know?'
+
+'Everything--his business--his private life--anything.'
+
+'As for his business, he has none; he is a gentleman living on his
+means--like myself; but his means are larger than my own: he has a
+residence elsewhere--I don't know where; he uses his Chambers but
+little: he has a collection of books there, and he keeps them for
+purposes of study.'
+
+'Does he call there every day?'
+
+'No. Only at irregular times. Sometimes not for many weeks together.'
+
+'Has he got any friends?'
+
+'I should say that he has no friends at all--at least none that come to
+the Inn. I have never heard or seen anyone in his room. A quiet man. No
+slammer. An excellent man to have on the staircase. No trampler; doesn't
+tramp up and down like an elephant. Isn't brought home drunk.'
+
+'What does he look like?'
+
+'He is a man advanced in years--perhaps seventy--a good-looking
+man--very cheerful countenance: tall and well set up still--wears a long
+frock coat. And that I believe is all I know about him.'
+
+'That's all you've got to tell me, is it?'
+
+'That is all, Mr. Checkley. Except that he has written a very remarkable
+letter to the _Times_ of this morning.'
+
+'Well, sir, if that is all, it isn't much for your rum-and-water, let me
+tell you.'
+
+The barrister rose and poured the half-glass that remained into the
+cinders. 'Then let me drink no more than my information was worth,' he
+said; and at the sight of so much magnanimity the broad earth trembled
+and Mr. Checkley sat aghast.
+
+The ex-statesman cleared his throat and began again. 'After the third
+interruption, gentlemen, I may hope for a hearing. While, therefore, on
+the one hand----'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE VOICE OF DUTY
+
+
+Elsie in her studio was at work. She was painting a fancy portrait. You
+have seen how, before her interview with Mr. Dering, she transformed him
+from a hard and matter-of-fact lawyer into a genial, benevolent old
+gentleman. She was now elaborating this transformation. It is a
+delightful process, known to every portrait-painter, whereby a face
+faithfully represented becomes the face of another person, or the face
+as it might be, so that a hard and keen face, such as Mr. Dering's, may
+become a face ennobled with spiritual elevation, benevolence, charity,
+and kindness of heart. Or, on the other hand, without the least change
+of feature, this hard keen face may become, by the curve of a line or
+the addition of a shadow, the face of a cruel and pitiless Inquisitor.
+Or, again, any face, however blurred and marred by the life of its
+owner, may by the cunning portrait-painter be restored to the face
+intended by its Maker, that is to say, a sweet and serious face. Great
+indeed is the power, marvellous is the mystery, of the limner's art.
+
+'Now,' Elsie murmured, 'you look like some great philanthropist--a
+thoughtful philanthropist, not a foolish person: your high forehead and
+your sharp nostril proclaim that you are no impulsive gusher: your
+kindly eyes beam with goodness of heart: your lips are firm because you
+hate injustice. Oh, my dear guardian, how much I have improved you!
+Something like this you looked when you told me of my fortune--and like
+this when you spoke of your dream, and your illusions--something like
+this you looked.'
+
+She went on working at her fantasy, crooning a simple ditty, composed of
+many melodies running into one, as girls use when they are quite happy.
+The afternoon was hot. Outside, Elsie's windows looked upon a nest of
+little London gardens, where nasturtiums twisted round strings upon the
+walls; hollyhocks and sunflowers, which love the London smoke, lifted
+their heads; and Virginia creepers climbed to the house-tops. The
+little London gardens do sometimes look gay and bright in the yellow
+glow of a July afternoon. The window was open, and the room was almost
+as hot as the street outside; we get so few hot days that one here and
+there cannot be too hot. On the table lay a photograph of her lover;
+over the mantel hung her own drawing in Pastel of that swain; on her
+finger was his ring: round her neck lay his chain: all day long she was
+reminded of him, if she should cease for a moment to think of him. But
+there was no need of such reminder. It was Friday afternoon, four days
+after the great Discovery. Elsie had been informed of the event, the
+news of which she received after the feminine manner, with an
+ejaculation of surprise and an interjection of sympathy. But one cannot
+expect a girl on the eve of her marriage to be greatly distressed
+because her guardian, a rich man, is annoyed by the temporary loss of
+certain shares. And as to finding the criminal and getting back those
+shares--it was man's work. All the troublesome and disagreeable part of
+the world's work belongs to man.
+
+It was nearly five o'clock. Elsie was beginning to think that she had
+done enough, and that, after tea, a walk in the Gardens might be
+pleasant. Suddenly, without any noise or warning of steps outside, her
+door was opened and her sister Hilda appeared. Now, so swift is the
+feminine perception, that Elsie instantly understood that something had
+happened--something bad--something bad to herself. For first, the door
+was opened gently, as in a house of mourning; and next, Hilda had on a
+dress--lavender with heliotrope, costly, becoming, sympathetic, and
+sorrowful--a half-mourning dress--and she stood for a moment at the door
+with folded hands, her classical head inclined a little downward to the
+left, and her eyes drooping--an artistic attitude of sadness. Hilda not
+only said the right thing and held the proper sentiments, but she liked
+to assume the right attitude and to personate the right emotion. Now it
+is given to woman, and only to her when she is young, tall, and
+beautiful, to express by attitude all or any of the emotions which
+transport or torture her fellow-creatures. Hilda, you see, was an
+artist.
+
+'Come in, dear,' said Elsie. 'I am sure that you have got something
+disagreeable to tell me.'
+
+Hilda kissed her forehead. 'My poor child,' she murmured. 'If it could
+have been told you by anybody else!'
+
+'Well--let us hear it. Is it anything very disagreeable?'
+
+'It is terrible. I tremble--I dare not tell you. Yet I must. You ought
+to know.'
+
+'If you would go on. It is much more terrible to be kept in suspense.'
+
+'It is about George.'
+
+'Oh!' said Elsie, flaming. 'I have had so much trouble about George
+already, that I did think----'
+
+'My dear, all opposition of the former kind is removed, as you know.
+This is something very different. Worse,' she added in a hollow
+voice--'far worse.'
+
+'For Heaven's sake, get along.'
+
+'He has told you about the dreadful robbery. Of course you have talked
+about nothing else since it happened. I found my mother full of it.'
+
+'Yes--George is in charge of the case. He says that everything must be
+recovered, and that Mr. Dering will in the end suffer no more injury
+than the trouble of it.'
+
+'That may be so. Elsie--I hardly dare to tell you--there is a clue.
+Checkley has got that clue, and has told Sir Samuel everything. He is
+following up the clue. I shudder to think of it. The man is as
+relentless as a bloodhound.'
+
+'Does that clue concern me?' Her cheek became pale because she
+guessed--she knew not what.
+
+'Sir Samuel, against his will, is convinced that Checkley has found the
+clue. He has told me the whole. He has consented to my telling the
+dreadful story to my mother and to you--and now I am afraid. Yet I
+must.'
+
+Elsie made a gesture of impatience.
+
+'Go back, Elsie, eight years, if you can. Remember the wretched business
+of our unworthy brother.'
+
+'I remember it. Not unworthy, Hilda. Our most unfortunate brother. Why,
+they have found the very notes he was charged with stealing. They were
+found in the safe on the very day when they made the other discovery.
+Have they not told you?'
+
+'Checkley told Sir Samuel. He also remembers seeing Athelstan place the
+packet in the safe.'
+
+'Oh! Does he dare to say that? Why, Hilda, the robbery was proved to lie
+between himself and Athelstan. If he saw that, why did he not say so? He
+keeps silence for eight long years, and then he speaks.'
+
+Hilda shook her head sadly. 'I fear,' she said, 'that we cannot accept
+the innocence of our unfortunate brother. However, Athelstan was accused
+of forging Mr. Dering's handwriting and signature. In this new forgery,
+the same handwriting is found again--exactly the same. The forger is the
+same.'
+
+'Clearly, therefore, it cannot be Athelstan. That settles it.'
+
+'Yes--unfortunately--it does settle it. Because, you see, Athelstan is
+in London. He is said to have been living in London all the time--in
+some wretched place called Camberwell, inhabited, I suppose, by runaways
+and low company of every kind. He has lately been seen in the
+neighbourhood of Gray's Inn, apparently passing under his own name.
+Checkley has seen him. Another person has seen him.'
+
+'Have you come to tell me that Athelstan is charged with this new
+wickedness?'
+
+'The forger must have had an accomplice in the office; a man able
+to get at the safe: able to intercept the post: acquainted with Mr.
+Dering's ways: such a man as--say--Checkley--or--the only other
+possible--George.' Hilda paused.
+
+'Oh! This is too absurd. You are now hinting that George--my George,'
+she said proudly, 'was the confederate of Athelstan--no--of a forger.'
+
+'They have been seen together. They have been seen together at the house
+from which the forger addresses his letters. Has George told you that he
+has known all along--for eight years--of Athelstan's residence in
+London?'
+
+Observe how that simple remark made in the _Salutation_ Parlour, that
+Athelstan must have been living in Camberwell, had by this time grown
+into a complete record of eight years' hiding, eight years' disgraceful
+company on the part of one, and eight years' complicity and guilty
+knowledge on the part of the other. Hilda had not the least doubt. It
+was quite enough for her that Checkley said so. Half the contents of our
+newspapers are conducted on the same confiding principle.
+
+'If George has not told me,' Elsie replied, 'it must be for some good
+reason. Perhaps he was pledged to secrecy.'
+
+'My dear'--Hilda rose impressively with fateful face-'the hand that
+forged the letters is the hand that forged the cheque--your brother's
+hand. The hand that took the certificates from the safe'--she laid her
+own upon Elsie's hand--'the hand of the confederate, my poor sister,
+is--your lover's hand.'
+
+'I knew,' said the girl, 'that you were coming to this. I have felt it
+from the beginning.'
+
+'Remember, the thing was done in the months of February, March, and
+April. First of all, Athelstan was then, as now, desperately poor: the
+life that he has led for the last eight years--the life of
+a--a--Camberwell profligate'--she spoke as if that respectable suburb
+was the modern Alsatia-'has certainly destroyed whatever was left of
+honour and of principle. There comes a time, I have read, in the career
+of every wicked man when he hesitates no longer whatever means are
+offered him of making money. Athelstan it was--so they believe--who
+devised this scheme, which has been as successful as it is disgraceful.
+My dear Elsie, this is the most terrible disgrace that has ever befallen
+my family: the most dreadful and the most unexpected calamity for you.'
+
+Elsie caught her sister by the wrist. 'In the name of God, Hilda, are
+you telling me what is proved and true, or what is only suspected?'
+
+'I am telling you what is as good as proved. More than suspected.'
+
+'As good as proved. Oh!' Elsie drew a long breath. 'As good as proved.
+That is enough. Like Athelstan's guilt eight years ago,' she flared out
+suddenly, springing up again and walking about the room. 'Oh! it is
+wonderful!' she cried--'wonderful! What a family we are! We had a
+brother, and we believed that he was an honourable gentleman, as the son
+of his father must be. Then there was a charge, a foolish charge, based
+upon nothing but may--have--been and must--have--been---- We believed
+the charge----'
+
+'Because we had no choice but to believe, Elsie,' her sister
+interrupted. 'Do you think we wanted to believe the charge?'
+
+'We should have believed him innocent until the thing was proved. We did
+not. We cast him out from among us; and now, after eight years--he has
+come back poor, you say, and sunk so low that he is ashamed to see his
+people, and we are going to believe another charge based on may have
+been and must have been. No, Hilda. I will not believe it--I will
+not.--And then there is George. If I cease to believe in his honour and
+his truth, I cease to believe in everything. I cannot believe in Heaven
+itself unless I believe in my lover. Why, his heart is light about this
+business: he is not concerned: he laughs at that old man's ravings.
+Ravings? If Athelstan is right, then his is the hand that has done it
+all--his--Hilda--Checkley is the man concerned with both crimes.'
+
+Hilda shook her head. 'No, Elsie, no. The old man is above suspicion.'
+
+'Why should he be above suspicion more than George? And you ask me on
+the first breath of accusation to treat George as you treated Athelstan.
+Well--Hilda, I will not.'
+
+'I make every allowance for you, Elsie. It is a most dreadful
+business--a heart-breaking business. You may misrepresent me as much as
+you please-- I will continue to make allowances for you. Meantime, what
+will you do?'
+
+'Do? What should I do? Nothing, nothing, nothing. I shall go on as if
+this thing had never happened.'
+
+'Sir Samuel ordered me to warn you most seriously. If you consent to see
+him again----'
+
+'Consent? Consent? Why should I refuse? In a fortnight he will be my
+husband and my master, whom I must obey. He calls me his mistress now,
+but I am his servant. Consent to see him?' She sat down and burst into
+tears.
+
+'If you see him again,' her sister continued, 'warn him to leave the
+country. The thing is so certain that in a day or two the proofs will be
+complete, and it will then be too late. Make him leave the country. Be
+firm, Elsie. Better still, refuse to see him at all and leave him to his
+fate. What a fate! What madness!'
+
+'We allowed Athelstan to leave the country. He ought to have stayed. If
+I advise George at all I shall advise him to stick to his post and see
+the business through. If he were to leave the country, I would go with
+him.'
+
+'You are infatuated, Elsie. I can only hope that he may fly the country
+of his own accord. Meantime, there is one other point----'
+
+'What is it? Pray, don't spare me, Hilda. After what has gone before, it
+must be a very little point.'
+
+'You are bitter, Elsie, and I don't deserve your bitterness. But that is
+nothing. At such a moment everything must be pardoned and permitted. The
+point is about your wedding. It is fixed for the 12th of next month,
+less than three weeks from to-day. You must be prepared to put it off.'
+
+'Indeed! Because you say that a thing impossible is as good as proved!
+Certainly not, Hilda.'
+
+'I have come here to-day, Elsie, by Sir Samuel's express wish, in order
+to soften the blow and to warn you. Whether you will tell--that unhappy
+young man or not, is for you to decide. Perhaps, if you do, he may
+imitate our unworthy brother and run away. If he does not, the blow will
+fall to-morrow--to-day--the day after to-morrow--I know not when. He
+will be arrested: he will be taken before a magistrate: he will be
+remanded: he will be out on bail. Oh, Elsie, think of marrying a man out
+on bail! One might as well marry a man in convict dress. Oh! Horrible!'
+
+'I would rather marry George in convict dress than any other man in fine
+raiment. Because, once more, the thing is impossible.'
+
+'You carry your faith in your lover beyond bounds, Elsie. Of course a
+girl is right to believe in a man's honour. It makes her much more
+comfortable, and gives her a sense of security. Besides, we always like
+to believe that we are loved by the best of men. That makes us feel like
+the best of women.--But in this case, when I tell you that Sir Samuel--a
+man who has always lived among money--so to speak--and knows how money
+is constantly assailed--is firmly convinced of George's complicity, I do
+think that you might allow something for human frailty. In the case of
+Athelstan, what did Mr. Dering say? Everything is possible. So I say of
+George Austin, everything is possible.'
+
+'Not everything. Not that.'
+
+'Yes, even that.--What do you know of his private life? Why has he
+concealed the fact of Athelstan's residence in London? Why has he never
+told us of his friendship with that unfortunate outcast?'
+
+'I don't know. He has his reasons.'
+
+'It is a most dreadful thing for you,' Hilda went on. 'And after getting
+to believe in the man and--well--becoming attached to him--though such
+attachments mean little and are soon forgotten--and after going the
+length of fixing the day and ordering the dress and the wedding-cake,
+and putting up the banns---- Oh! it is a wretched business--a horrible
+misfortune. The only thing to be said is that in such a case, the fact
+being known to everybody, no one can blame a girl; and perhaps, in the
+long run, she will suffer no injury from it. Our circle, for instance,
+is so different from that of this young man's friends, that the thing
+would not even be known among us.'
+
+'I believe, Hilda, you will drive me mad.'
+
+'My dear, one must look ahead. And remember that I look ahead for you.
+As for the young man, I dissociate him henceforth from you. What he does
+and where he goes I do not inquire or care about, any more than I
+trouble myself about a disgraceful brother. Some acts cut a man off from
+his mistress--from his sisters--from the world.'
+
+'Do not talk any more,' said Elsie. 'Let the blow, as you call it, fall
+when it pleases. But as for me, I shall not warn George that he is to be
+charged with dishonesty, any more than I will believe him capable of
+dishonesty.'
+
+'Well, my dear, there is one comfort for us. You may resolve on marrying
+him. But a man charged with a crime--out on bail--cannot marry any girl.
+And he will be charged, and the evidence is very strong.'
+
+'No doubt. As good as proved--as good as proved. Poor George! Who never
+had ten pounds in the world until he was made a partner----'
+
+'True. And there we have the real motive. Seek the motive, Sir Samuel
+says, and we shall find the criminal. Here you have the reason of the
+secret partnership with Athelstan. Poverty is the tempter--Athelstan is
+the suggested.'
+
+Elsie shook her head impatiently.
+
+'Mr. Dering was to give you away. Who will now? Athelstan? How can
+we--Sir Samuel and I--assist at a wedding where the bridegroom lies
+under such a charge?--by one so near to us as Mr. Dering? How can your
+mother be present? Oh, Elsie, think!'
+
+Elsie shook her head again, with greater impatience.
+
+'Think what a fate you may be dragging upon yourself! Think of possible
+children with such a brand upon them!'
+
+'I think only of an honourable and an innocent man.'
+
+'I have just come from my mother, Elsie. She says positively that if the
+charge is brought, the wedding must be put off until the man is cleared.
+And for the moment she does not feel strong enough to meet him. You can
+receive him here if you please. And she desires that there may be no
+disputes or arguments about it.'
+
+'It is truly wonderful!' Elsie walked to the open window and gasped as
+if choking. 'Wonderful!' she repeated. 'The same fate--in the same
+manner--threatens George that fell upon Athelstan. And it finds us as
+ready to believe in the charge and to cast him out. Now, Hilda, go to my
+mother and tell her that though the whole world should call George--my
+George--a villain, I will marry him. Tell her that though I should have
+to take him from the prison door, I will marry him. Because, you see,
+all things are not possible. This thing is impossible.'
+
+'We shall have trouble with Elsie,' Lady Dering told her mother. 'Call
+her soft and yielding? My dear, no mule was ever more stubborn. She will
+marry her convict, she says, even at the prison door.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+WAS HE IN RAGS?
+
+
+Stubborn as a mule. Yes--it is the way with some girls: man is soft as
+wax compared with woman: man concedes, compromises, gives way, submits:
+woman has her own way--when that way is the right way she becomes a
+pearl above price.
+
+Elsie, when the door was shut and her sister gone, stood silent,
+immovable. A red spot burned in her cheeks: her eyes were unnaturally
+bright: her lips parted: she was possessed by a mighty wrath and great
+determination: she was the tigress who fights for her beloved. Meantime,
+everything was changed: the sunshine had gone out of the day: the warmth
+out of the air: her work, that had pleased her so much an hour ago,
+seemed a poor weak thing not worth thinking about. Everything was a
+trifle not worth thinking about--the details of her wedding: her
+presents: her honeymoon: her pretty flat--all became insignificant
+compared with this threatened charge against her lover. How was it to be
+met? If it was only a suspicion put into shape by Sir Samuel and old
+Checkley it would be best to say nothing. If it was really going to be
+brought against him, would it not be best to warn him beforehand? And
+about her brother----
+
+She sat down and wrote out the facts. To be doing this cleared her
+brain, and seemed like working for her lover. In March 1882 a cheque for
+720_l_. to the order of one Edmund Gray was cashed in ten-pound notes by
+a commissionaire sent from an hotel in Arundel Street, Strand. No one
+ever found out this Edmund Gray. Athelstan was suspected. The notes
+themselves were never presented, and were found the other day in Mr.
+Dering's safe, covered with dust, at the back of some books.
+
+In February, March, and April, by means of forged letters, a great
+quantity of shares were transferred from the name of Edward Dering to
+that of Edmund Gray. The writing of the letters was the same as that of
+the forged cheque.
+
+These were the only facts. The rest was all inference and presumption.
+Athelstan had been seen in London: Athelstan had been living all the
+time in London: Athelstan had been seen going into the house which was
+given as the residence of Edmund Gray. Well--Athelstan must be seen the
+very first thing. Further than this point she could not get. She rang
+the bell, ordered tea to be brought to her own room, and then put on her
+hat and went out to the Gardens, where she walked about under the trees,
+disquieted and unhappy. If a charge is going to be brought against him,
+the most innocent man in the world must be disquieted until he knows the
+nature of the evidence against him. Once satisfied as to that, he may be
+happy again. What evidence could they bring against George?
+
+She went home about eight, going without dinner rather than sit down
+with her mother. It is a miserable thing for a girl to be full of
+hardness against her mother. Elsie already had experience, as you have
+seen. For the present better not to meet at all. Therefore she did not
+go home for dinner, but took a bun and a cup of coffee--woman's
+substitute for dinner--at a confectioner's.
+
+When George called about nine o'clock, he was taken into the studio,
+where he found Elsie with the traces of tears in her eyes.
+
+'Why, Elsie,' he cried, 'what is the matter? Why are you crying, my
+dear? and why are you alone in this room?'
+
+'I choke in this house, George. Take me out of it--take me away. Let us
+walk about the Squares and talk. I have a good deal to say.'
+
+'Now, dear, what is it?'--when they were outside. 'What happened? You
+are trembling--you have been shaken. Tell me, dear.'
+
+'I don't think I can tell you just at present--not all.'
+
+'Something then--the rest afterwards. Tell me by instalments.'
+
+'You are quite happy, George? Nobody has said anything to make you
+angry, at the office, or anywhere else?'
+
+'Nobody. We are going on just the same. Mr. Dering thinks and talks
+about nothing but the robbery. So do I. So does everybody else. I
+suppose Checkley has told, for every clerk in the place knows about it,
+and is talking about it. Why do you ask if anybody has made me angry?'
+
+'My dear George, Hilda has been here this afternoon. You know
+that--sometimes--Hilda does not always say the kindest things about
+people.'
+
+'Not always. I remember when she wrote me a letter asking whether I
+thought that a lawyer's clerk was a fit aspirant for the hand of her
+sister. Not always just the kindest things. But I thought we were all on
+the most affectionate terms, and that everything had been sponged out.
+Has she been saying more kind, sisterly, things about me? What have I
+done now? Isn't the money difficulty solved?'
+
+'I will tell you some other time--not now--what she said. At the present
+moment I want to ask you a question. If you have reasons for not
+answering, say so, and I shall be quite satisfied; but answer me if you
+can. This is the question. Hilda says that Athelstan is secretly in
+London, and that you know it, and that you have been seen with him. Is
+that true?'
+
+'Well--Elsie--the only reason for not telling you that Athelstan is here
+is that he himself made me promise not to tell you. Athelstan is in
+London. I see him often. I shall see him this evening after leaving you.
+He is in London, walking about openly. Why not? I know no reason for any
+concealment. But he cannot go to see his mother, or enter his mother's
+house, until this charge against him has been acknowledged to be
+baseless. As for you, he will be the first person to visit you--and will
+be your most frequent visitor--when we are married. He is always talking
+about you. He is longing for the time when he can see you openly. But
+nothing will persuade him to come here. He is still bitter against his
+mother and against Hilda.'
+
+Elsie sighed. 'It is very terrible--and now---- But go on.'
+
+'I have answered your question, Elsie.'
+
+'Oh, no. I have only just begun. You say that Athelstan is in London;
+but you do not tell me what he is doing and how he fares.'
+
+'He fares very well, and he is prosperous.'
+
+'Hilda says that he has been living in some wretched quarter of London
+all these years; that he has been frequenting low company; and that he
+has been, until the last few weeks, in rags and penniless.'
+
+George laughed aloud. 'Where on earth did Hilda get this precious
+information? Athelstan in a low quarter? Athelstan a Prodigal? Athelstan
+in rags? My dearest Elsie, if Lady Dering were not your sister, I should
+say that she had gone mad with venomous hatred of the brother whom she
+made so much haste to believe guilty.'
+
+'Oh! Tell me quick, George. Don't say anything against Hilda, please. I
+am already---- Tell me quick the whole truth.'
+
+'Well, dear, the whole truth is this. Athelstan is doing very well. I
+suppose you might call him prosperous. When he went away, he had ten
+pounds to begin with. People kindly credited him with the nice little
+sum of 720_l_. obtained by a forgery. We now know that this money has
+been lying in the safe all the time--how it got there, the Lord
+knows--perhaps Checkley could tell. He went to America by the cheapest
+way possible. He had many adventures and many ups and downs, all of
+which he will tell you before long. Once he had great good fortune on a
+silver mine or something: he made thousands of pounds over it. Then he
+lost all his money--dropped it down a sink or into an open drain--you
+know, in America, these traps are plentiful, and started again on his
+ten pounds. He was a journalist all the time, and he is a journalist
+still. He is now over here as the London correspondent of a great paper
+of San Francisco.--That, my dear Elsie, is, briefly, the record of your
+brother since he went away.'
+
+'Oh! But are you quite sure, George?--quite--quite sure? Because, if
+this can be proved----'
+
+'Nothing is more easy to prove. He brought letters to a London Bank
+introducing him as the correspondent, and empowering him to draw certain
+moneys.'
+
+'How long has Athelstan been at home?' She remembered the dates of the
+recent forgeries, and the alleged fact that all were in the same
+handwriting.
+
+'You are so persistent, Elsie, that I am certain you have got something
+serious on your mind--won't you tell me?'
+
+'No, George--not to-night. But--how long has Athelstan been in England?'
+
+'I will tell you exactly how and when I met him. Do you remember three
+weeks ago, that Sunday evening when we were so happy and so
+miserable--resolved on braving everything--going to live on love and a
+crust for the rest of our lives?--you poor, dear, brave girl!' He
+touched her fingers. 'I shall always be thankful for that prospect of
+poverty, because it revealed my mistress to me in all her loveliness of
+love and trust and courage.'
+
+'Oh, George--you spoil me. But then I know myself better.'
+
+'Well--on that evening we went to Church together; and after Church, as
+I was not allowed in the house, we walked round and round the Square
+until the rain came on, and we had to go home. Well, you did not take
+any notice; but as you stood on the steps waiting for the door to be
+opened, a man was standing on the kerb under the lamp close by. When the
+door was shut behind you, I turned and walked away. This man followed me
+and clapped me on the shoulder. It was Athelstan.'
+
+'And I saw him and did not know him!'
+
+'He has grown a big beard now, and wore a felt hat. He is a picturesque
+object to look at. Ought to have been one of Drake's men. I daresay he
+was in a former existence. He had then been in England exactly a week,
+and every day he had prowled about the place in the hope of seeing
+you--not speaking to you--he trusted that you would not know him again.'
+
+'Oh, poor Athelstan! That is nearly three weeks ago. He has been in
+England four weeks--a month--and three--four--five months ago--where was
+he?'
+
+'I told you. In California.'
+
+'Oh! then he could not--possibly--not possibly--and it can be
+proved--and oh! George--George--I am so glad--I am so glad.' She showed
+her joy by a light shower of tears.
+
+'Why, my dear,' he said, soothing her, 'why are you so troubled and yet
+so glad?'
+
+'You don't quite understand, George. You don't know the things that are
+said. All these forgeries are in the same handwriting.'
+
+'Certainly.'
+
+'One man has written all these letters and cheques and things--both that
+of eight years ago and those of last March?'
+
+'That is perfectly certain.'
+
+'Then, don't you see? Athelstan was out of England when these
+newly-discovered forgeries were done. Therefore, he had no hand in them.
+Therefore, again, he could have had no hand in the earlier one. Why--you
+establish his innocence perfectly. Now you see one of the reasons why I
+was so glad.'
+
+The other reason--that this fact destroyed at one blow the whole of the
+splendid edifice constructed upon the alleged stay of Athelstan in
+London--Elsie concealed. Her heart, it must be acknowledged, was
+lightened. You may have the most complete belief in the innocence of a
+person, but it is well to have the belief strengthened by facts.
+
+'As for me,' said George, 'I have been so long accustomed to regard him
+as one of the worst used of men, that I never thought of that
+conclusion. Of course, if the handwriting is the same, and it certainly
+seems the same--a very good imitation of Mr. Dering's hand--there is
+nothing now to be said. Athelstan was in California in the spring. That
+settles it. And the notes were in the safe. Two clinchers. But to some
+minds a suspicion is a charge, and a charge is a fact.'
+
+'George, you must take me to Athelstan. Give me his address.'
+
+'He is in lodgings in Half Moon Street. I will ask him if he will meet
+you.'
+
+'No--no; let me go to him. It is more fitting. You will see him
+presently. Will you tell him that I will call upon him to-morrow morning
+at eleven? And tell him, George, that something has happened--something
+that makes it impossible for me to remain at home--even for the short
+time before our wedding.'
+
+'Elsie! this is very serious.'
+
+'Yes, it is very serious. Tell him that I shall ask him to receive me
+until the wedding, or until certain things have happened.--But in any
+case--oh! they must happen so--they must--it is too absurd.'
+
+'Elsie, my dear, you grow interjectional.'
+
+'Yes--yes. I mean, George, that if things turn out as I hope they may, I
+will go home again. If not, we will be married from Athelstan's
+lodgings.'
+
+'And you will not tell me what this terrible business is?'
+
+'Not to-night, George,' she repeated. 'It is very serious, and it makes
+me very unhappy that my mother and sister----'
+
+'It is something to do with me, Elsie, clearly. Never mind. You will
+tell me when you please. Whatever you do is sure to be right. I will see
+him this evening.'
+
+'Thank you, George. I think that what I propose is the wisest thing to
+do. Besides, I want to be with you and Athelstan. Tell him that as he
+left the house eight years ago I leave it now.'
+
+'You? Why, my dear child, what forgeries have you been committing?'
+
+'None. And yet---- Well, George, that is enough about me and my
+troubles. Tell me now about your search into this business. How have you
+got on?'
+
+'There is nothing new to report. I told you that I left a note on Edmund
+Gray's table. No answer has come to that. The Bank has written to tell
+him that his letter of introduction was a forgery. No answer. The
+dividends are accumulating: he draws no cheques: he makes no sign. In a
+word, though this money is lying to his credit, and the shares are
+transferred to his name, and the letters give his address, there is
+nothing whatever to convict the man himself. We could not prove his
+signature, and he has taken none of the money. He might call any day and
+say that he knew nothing about it. I wonder he hasn't done it. When he
+does, we shall just have to put everything straight again. As for poor
+old Checkley, I really believe that he is going mad. If I meet him he
+glares; if he is in his master's room, his eyes follow me about under
+his shaggy eyebrows with a malignity which I have never seen painted. As
+for being described, words couldn't do it. I suppose he sees that the
+end is inevitable. Really, Elsie, the man would murder me if he dared.'
+
+'The man is dangerous, George, as well as malignant. But I think he will
+do you no harm in the long run. Have you told Athelstan what is going
+on?'
+
+'Certainly. He follows the business with the greatest interest. He
+agrees with me that the thing is done out of the office with the help of
+some one in it. Now, the point is, that the man in the office must have
+the control of the post. All the letters must pass through his hands.
+'Who is that man? No one but Checkley. Everything turns on that. Now,
+here is a lucky accident. An old friend of Athelstan's, a man who
+coaches, has Chambers on the same stairs and on the same floor. He knows
+this Mr. Edmund Gray. We have been to his rooms to question him.'
+
+'Is it to see this old friend that Athelstan visits No. 22?'
+
+'Yes. His name is Carstone--commonly called Freddy Carstone--a pleasing
+man, with a little weakness, which seems to endear him to his friends.'
+
+'This is the way in which things get distorted in a malignant mind!
+Well. What did this gentleman tell you about this mysterious Edmund
+Gray?'
+
+'Nothing definite. That he is some kind of Socialist we knew before:
+that he has occupied the Chambers for ten years or so we knew before.
+Also, that he is an elderly gentleman of benevolent aspect. And that he
+is irregular in his visits to his Chambers. We seem to get no further.
+We see Checkley coming out of the house. That connects him, to be sure.
+But that is not much. There is no connection established between Edmund
+Gray and the forgeries in his name. Nor between Checkley and the
+forgeries. One feels that if one could lay hold of this mysterious
+elderly gentleman, a real step in advance would be taken.'
+
+'You talked at first of arresting him on the charge.'
+
+'Well--there is no evidence. His name has been used--that is all. On
+that evidence no magistrate would issue a warrant. Sometimes one's head
+goes round with the bewilderment of it. I've managed to learn something
+about Checkley in the course of these inquiries. He is quite a great
+man, Elsie; a tavern oracle in the evening; a landlord and householder
+and collector of his own rents at odd hours; a capitalist and a miser.
+But he is not, as thought at first--Edmund Gray.'
+
+They had by this time got round to the house again. 'Go, now, George,'
+said Elsie. 'See Athelstan this evening. Tell him that I must go to him.
+I will tell him why to-morrow.'
+
+'If he is not at his club I will go to his lodgings. If he is not there
+I will wait till he comes home. And before I go home I will drop a note
+for you.--Good-night, sweetheart--good-night.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE PRODIGAL AT HOME
+
+
+In the morning, Elsie rose at seven and put together such things as she
+should want for the three weeks before her marriage, if she was to spend
+that interval under her brother's care. At eight o'clock she received
+her letters--including one in a handwriting she did not know. She opened
+it.
+
+     'Dear Elsie,' it said, 'come to me at once. Come early. Come
+     to breakfast at nine. I will wait for you till ten, or any
+     time.
+
+  'Your affectionate Brother,
+  'ATHELSTAN.'
+
+'Oh!' she murmured. 'And I did not know his writing. And to think that I
+am twenty-one, and he is thirty-one; and that I have never had a letter
+from him before!'
+
+Her boxes were packed. She put on her jacket and hat and descended into
+the breakfast-room, where her mother was already opening her letters and
+waiting breakfast.
+
+'You are going out, Elsie?' she asked coldly.
+
+'Yes. Hilda told you, I suppose, what she came here for yesterday. In
+fact, you sent me a message.'
+
+'I hope she delivered it correctly.'
+
+'She said that you would not sanction my wedding while this charge, or
+suspicion, was hanging over George's head. And that you would not see
+him until it was withdrawn or cleared away.'
+
+'Certainly. In such a case it would be worse than hypocrisy to receive
+him with friendliness.'
+
+'Then, like Hilda, you accept the conclusion.'
+
+'I am unable to do anything else. The conclusion seems to me
+inevitable. If not, let him explain. I hope that no time will be lost in
+bringing the formal charge. It is foolish kindness--real cruelty--to all
+concerned to keep such a thing hanging over our heads. I say _our_
+heads, not yours only, Elsie, because you know your brother is
+implicated--perhaps the real contriver--of the dreadful scheme.'
+
+'Would you believe me if I were to tell you that Athelstan _could_ not
+be implicated?'
+
+'My dear--believe you? Of course, I would believe if I could.
+Unfortunately, the evidence is too strong.'
+
+Elsie sighed. 'Very well; I will say nothing more. You have driven out
+my lover, as you drove out my brother for the self-same cause, and on
+the self-same charge. I follow my lover and my brother.'
+
+'Elsie!'--her mother started. 'Do not, I pray you, do anything rash.
+Remember--a scandal--a whisper even--may be fatal to you hereafter. Sit
+down and wait. All I ask you to do is to wait.'
+
+'No; I will not wait. If those two are under any cloud of suspicion, I
+too will sit under the cloud and wait until it lifts. I am going to stay
+with my brother until my wedding. That is to be on the 12th.'
+
+'No--no--my poor child. There will be no wedding on the 12th.'
+
+'Before that time, everything will be cleared up, and I shall be
+married from this house, so that I have left all my things, my
+presents--everything.'
+
+Her mother shook her head.
+
+'Try not to think so cruelly of George and of Athelstan, mother. You
+will be sorry afterwards. Try to believe that though a case may look
+strange, there may be a way out.'
+
+'I have told you'--her mother was perfectly cold and unmoved--'that I
+have come to this conclusion on the evidence. If the young man can
+explain things, let him do so. There will be no wedding on the 12th,
+Elsie. You can come home as soon as you are convinced that your brother
+is an improper person for a young lady to live with, and as soon as you
+have learned the truth about the other young man. That is to say, I will
+receive you under these distressing circumstances, provided there has
+been no scandal connected with your name.'
+
+Elsie turned and left the room. The Fifth Commandment enjoins that under
+such circumstances as these the least said the soonest mended.
+
+When a man learns that his sister, his favourite sister, from whom he
+has been parted for eight years, the only member of his family who stood
+up for him when he was falsely accused of a disgraceful thing, is about
+to take breakfast with him, he naturally puts as much poetry into that
+usually simple meal as circumstances allow. Mostly Athelstan took a cup
+of coffee and a London egg. This morning he had flowers, raspberries
+lying in a bed of leaves, a few late strawberries, various kinds of
+confitures in dainty dishes, toast and cake, with fish and
+cutlets--quite a little feast. And he had had the room cleared of the
+bundles of newspapers; the pipes and cigar-cases and all the
+circumstances of tobacco were hidden away--all but the smell, which
+lingered. One thinks a good deal about a sister's visit, under such
+conditions. At a quarter past nine Elsie arrived. Athelstan hastened to
+open the door, and to receive her with open arms and kisses strange and
+sweet. Then, while the people of the house took in her luggage, he led
+his sister into the room, which was the front room on the ground-floor.
+
+'Elsie!' he said, taking both her hands in his, 'eight years since we
+parted--and you are a tall young lady whom I left a little girl. To hold
+your hand--to kiss you, seems strange after so long.' He kissed her
+again on the forehead. She looked up at the tall handsome man with a
+kind of terror. It was almost like casting herself upon the care of a
+strange man.
+
+'I remember your voice, Athelstan, but not your face. You have changed
+more than I, even.'
+
+'And I remember your voice, Elsie--always a soft and winning voice,
+wasn't it?--to suit soft and winning ways. There never was any child
+more winning and affectionate than you--never.'
+
+'Oh! you are grown very handsome, Athelstan. See what a splendid beard,
+and the brown velvet jacket, and white waistcoat--and the crimson tie.
+You look like an artist. I wish all men wore colours, as they used to
+do. I only heard yesterday that you were in London. Hilda told me.'
+
+'Was that the reason why you cannot stay at home?'
+
+'Part of the reason. But you shall have breakfast first. You can take me
+in without any trouble?'
+
+'My dear child, I am more than delighted to have you here. There is a
+room at the back where you will be quiet: we have only this one room for
+sitting-room, and I think we shall find it best to go out every day to
+dinner. That will not hurt us, and George will come every evening.--Now,
+Elsie, you sit here, and I will---- No-- I quite forgot. You will pour
+out the tea. Yes--I see. I thought I was going to wait upon you
+altogether.--There--now you will make a good breakfast, and--and----
+Don't cry, dear child.'
+
+'No--Athelstan.' She brushed away the tears. 'It is nothing. I shall be
+very happy with you. But why are you not at home? And why am I here? Oh!
+it is too cruel--too perverse of them!'
+
+'We had better have it out before breakfast, then.--Strawberries don't
+go well with tears, do they? Nor jam with complainings. Come, Elsie, why
+need you leave home?'
+
+'Because, in two words, they are treating George as they treated you. I
+was younger then, or I would have gone away with you.'
+
+'Treating George? Oh! I understand. They are pouring suspicion upon him.
+Well, I saw that this was coming. Old Checkley, I swear, is at the
+bottom of this.'
+
+'Yes--Checkley went to Sir Samuel with the "Case," as he called it,
+complete. He has proved to their joint satisfaction that nobody could
+have done the thing except George, assisted by you.'
+
+'Oh! assisted by me.'
+
+'Yes--while you were in California, I suppose. There is to be a warrant
+for your arrest--yours and George's--in a few days, they say. Hilda
+brought the news to my mother. They both believe it, and they want me to
+break off my engagement. My mother refuses to see George so long as this
+charge, as she calls it, remains over him. So I came away.'
+
+'You did wisely. Well--any one may call up a cloud of suspicion, and it
+is sometimes difficult to disperse such a cloud. Therefore, we must do
+everything we can to find out who is the real criminal.--Now, let us
+rest quite easy. There can be no arrest--or any charge--or anything but
+a fuss created by this old villain. It is only troublesome to find one's
+own people so ready to believe.'
+
+'Why did you not tell me that you were home again?'
+
+'Pour out the coffee, Elsie, and begin your breakfast. I wanted to
+reserve the Return of the Prodigal until you came home after your
+honeymoon. Then I meant to call mysteriously about sunset, before George
+was home. I thought I would have a long cloak wrapped about me. I should
+have begun: "Madam: you had once a brother."--"I had"--that is you.--"On
+his deathbed."--"My brother dead?"--that's you.--"With this
+packet."--Oh! we have lost a most beautiful little play. How can I
+forgive you?'
+
+Then they went on with breakfast, talking and laughing until, before the
+meal was finished, they had lost their shyness and were brother and
+sister again.
+
+After breakfast, Athelstan took a cigarette and an easy-chair. 'Now I am
+going to devote the whole day to you. I have nothing to do for my paper
+which cannot wait till to-morrow. All this morning we will talk--that
+is, until we are tired. We will have lunch somewhere, and go to see the
+pictures; George will come at about seven: we will have dinner, and go
+to some exhibition, somewhere. Then we will get home, and have another
+talk. To-morrow, I shall have to leave you to your own devices between
+ten and six or so. I am very busy some days: on others, I can find time
+for anything.--Now that's all cleared up. I am to be your banker and
+everything.'
+
+'Not my banker, Athelstan. Oh! you don't know. I am a great heiress.'
+
+'Indeed? How is that?' he asked, a little twinkle in his eye.
+
+'Mr. Dering told me when I was twenty-one, three weeks ago. Somebody has
+given me an immense sum of money--thirteen thousand pounds.'
+
+'That is a very handsome sum. Who gave it to you?'
+
+'That is a secret. Mr. Dering refuses to tell me. I wish I knew.'
+
+'I wouldn't wish if I were you. Gratitude is at all times a burden and a
+worry. Besides, he might be a vulgar person without aspirates or
+aspirations. Much better not inquire after him. Thirteen thousand pounds
+at three and a half per cent. means four hundred and fifty pounds a
+year. A nice little addition to your income. I congratulate you, Elsie;
+and this evening we will drink the health of the unassuming benefactor;
+the retiring and nameless recogniser of maidenly worth. Bless him!'
+
+'And now, Athelstan, begin your adventures. Tell me everything: from the
+day you left us till now. You cannot tell me too much or talk too long.
+Before you begin, ask any questions about my mother and Hilda that you
+want to ask. Then we can go on undisturbed.'
+
+'I have no questions to ask about either. I have already ascertained
+from George that both are in good health, and that Hilda has married a
+man with an immense fortune. That is happiness enough for her, I
+hope.--Now, Elsie, I shall be tedious, I am afraid; but you shall hear
+everything.'
+
+He began. It was such a narrative as thousands of young Englishmen have
+been able to tell during the last five-and-twenty years. The story of
+the young man with a few pounds in his pocket, no friends, no
+recommendations, and no trade. Athelstan landed at New York in this
+condition. He looked about for employment and found none. He hastened
+out of the crowded city: he went West, and got work in the business open
+to every sharp and clever man--that of journalism. He worked for one
+paper after another, getting gradually more and more West, until he
+found himself in San Francisco, where he was taken on by a great paper,
+which had now sent him over here as its London correspondent. That was
+all the story; but there were so many episodes in it, so many
+adventures, so many men whom he remembered, so many anecdotes cropping
+up, in this eight years' history of a man with an eye, a brain, and a
+memory, that it was long past luncheon-time when Athelstan stopped and
+said that he must carry on the next chapter at another time.
+
+'That pile of dollars that you made over the silver mine,
+Athelstan--what became of them?'
+
+'What became of them? Well, you see, Elsie, in some parts of the United
+States money vanishes as fast as it is made. All these dollars dropped
+into a deep hole of the earth, and were hopelessly lost.'
+
+She laughed. 'You will tell me some day--when you please--how you lost
+that fortune. Oh! what a thing it is to be a man and to have all these
+adventures!--Now, Athelstan, consider--if it had not been for your bad
+fortune, you would never have had all this good fortune.'
+
+'True. Yet the bad fortune came in such an ugly shape. There has been a
+black side to my history. How was I to tell people why I left my own
+country? I could make no friends. At the first appearance of friendship,
+I had to become cold, lest they should ask me where I came from and why
+I left home.'
+
+Elsie was silent.
+
+They carried out part of their programme. They went to see the
+pictures--it was eight years since Athelstan had seen a picture--and
+after the pictures they walked in the Park. Then they went home and
+waited for George, who presently appeared. Then they went to one of the
+Regent Street restaurants and made a little feast. After this, Elsie
+asked them to come home and spend a quiet evening talking about things.
+
+By common consent they avoided one topic. Edmund Gray was not so much as
+mentioned, nor was the malignity of Checkley alluded to. They talked of
+old days, when Athelstan was a big boy and George a little boy and Elsie
+a child. They talked of the long engagement, and the hopeless time, when
+it seemed as if they were going to marry on two hundred pounds a year:
+and of that day of miracle and marvel when Mr. Dering gave to one of
+them a fortune, and to the other a partnership. They talked of their
+honeymoon and the tour they were going to make, and the beautiful places
+they would see. Tours and Blois, Chenonceaux and Amboise; Angouleme and
+Poitiers and La Rochelle; and of their return, and the lovely flat,
+where the friends would be made so welcome. Athelstan was a person of
+some sympathy. Elsie talked as freely to him as she could to George.
+They talked till midnight.
+
+Then Elsie got up. 'Whatever happens, Athelstan,' she said,
+'mind--whatever happens, you shall give me away on the 12th.'
+
+'Now she has left us,' said George, 'you may tell me why she refused to
+stay at home.'
+
+'Well--I suppose you ought to know. Much for the same reason that I
+refused to stay at home. They then chose to jump at the conclusion that
+at one step I had become, from a man of honour, a stupid and clumsy
+forger. They now choose--I am ashamed to say--my mother and sister
+choose--to believe that you and I together have devised and invented
+this elaborate scheme of forgery. With this end in view, it has been
+found necessary to contrive certain little fabrications--as that I have
+been living in London on my wits--that is to say, by the exercise of
+cheatery--for the last eight years; and that, being in rags and
+penniless, I persuaded you to join me in this neat little buccaneering
+job.'
+
+'Oh! it is too absurd! But I suspected something. Well--it is perfectly
+easy to put a stop to that.'
+
+'Yes, it is easy. At the same time, it will be well to put a stop to it
+as soon as possible, before the thing assumes serious proportions, and
+becomes a horrid thing, that may stick to you all your life. You have
+got to do with a malignant man--perhaps a desperate man. He will spread
+abroad the suspicion as diligently as he can. Let us work, therefore.'
+
+'Well--but what can we do, that we have not done? How can we fix the
+thing upon Checkley?'
+
+'I don't know. We must think--we must find out something, somehow. Let
+us all three work together. Elsie will make the best detective in the
+world. And let us work in secret. I am very glad--very glad indeed--that
+Elsie came.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE WHISPER OF CALUMNY
+
+
+Whispered words are ever more potent than words proclaimed aloud upon
+the house-top. If the envious man from the house-top denounces a man of
+reputation as a thief, a gambler, a patricide, a sororicide, amicocide,
+no man regardeth his voice, though he call out with the voice of
+Stentor: people only stare: these are the words of a madman or a
+malignant. But whisper these charges in the ear of your neighbour:
+whisper them with bated breath: say that, as yet, the thing is a
+profound secret. Then that rumour swiftly flies abroad, until every
+burgess in the town regards that man askance; and when the time for
+voting comes, he votes for another man, and will not have him as beadle,
+sexton, verger, schoolmaster, turncock, policeman, parish doctor,
+workhouse chaplain, common-councilman, alderman, Mayor, or Member of
+Parliament. And all for a whisper.
+
+It was Checkley who set going the whisper, which at this moment was
+running up and down the office, agitating all hearts, occupying all
+minds, the basis of all conversation.
+
+King Midas's servant, when he was irresistibly impelled to whisper, dug
+a hole in the ground and placed his whisper at the bottom of that hole.
+But the grasses grew up and sighed the words to the passing breeze, so
+that the market women heard them on their way: 'The King's ears are the
+ears of an Ass--the ears of an Ass--the ears of an Ass.' The old and
+trusty servant of Dering and Son buried his secret in the leaves of his
+Copying-book. Here it was found by the boy who worked the Copying-press.
+As he turned over the pages, he became conscious of a sibilant,
+malignant, revengeful murmur: 'Who stole the bonds? The new
+Partner.--Who forged the letters? The new Partner.--Who robbed the safe?
+The new Partner.' Here was a pretty thing for a pretty innocent office
+boy to hear! Naturally, his very soul became aflame: when the dinner
+hour arrived, he told another boy as a profound secret what he had
+heard. That boy told an older boy, who told another still older, who
+told another, and so up the long official ladder, until everybody in the
+place knew that the new Partner--actually the new Partner--the most
+fortunate of all young men that ever passed his Exam.--who had stepped
+at a bound from two hundred to a thousand, at least--this young man, of
+all young men in the world, had forged his partner's name, robbed his
+partner's safe, made away with his partner's property. Who after this
+can trust anybody?
+
+But others there were who refused to believe this thing. They pointed
+out that the new Partner continued--apparently--on the best of terms
+with the old Partner: they argued that when such things are done,
+friendships are killed and partnerships are dissolved. They even went so
+far, though members of the great profession which believes in no man's
+goodness, as to declare their belief that the new Partner could not
+possibly by any temptation do such things. And there were others who
+pointed to the fact that the whisper came from the boy of the
+Copying-press: that he heard it whispered by the fluttering leaves: and
+that it was imparted to those leaves by Checkley--old Checkley--whose
+hatred towards the new Partner was notorious to all men: not on account
+of any personal qualities or private injuries, but out of the jealousy
+which made him regard the Chief as his own property: and because he had
+been deprived of his power in the office--the power of appointment and
+disappointment and the raising of screw, which he had previously
+possessed. Checkley was dethroned. Therefore, Checkley spread this
+rumour. Others, again, said that if the rumour was really started by
+Checkley, which could not be proved, seeing that, like all whispers or
+rumours, the origin was unknown, and perhaps supernatural, then Checkley
+must have very strong grounds for starting such a thing.
+
+Thus divided in opinion, the office looked on, expectant. Expectancy is
+a thing which gets into the air: it fills every room with whispers: it
+makes a conspirator or a partisan or a confederate of every one: it
+divides a peaceful office into camps: it is the cause of inventions,
+lies, and exaggerations. There were two parties in this office--one
+which whispered accusations, and the other which whispered denials.
+Between these hovered the wobblers or mugwumps, who whispered that while
+on the one hand--on the other hand--and that while they readily
+admitted--so they were free to confess----Everybody knows the wobbler.
+He is really, if he knew it, the master of the situation; but, because
+he is a wobbler, he cannot use his strength. When he is called upon to
+act, he falls into two pieces, each of which begins to wobble and to
+fall into other two pieces of its own accord. The whole process of a
+Presidential Election--except the final voting--was going on in that
+office of half-a-dozen rooms, but in whispers, without a single
+procession, and not one German band. And all unconscious of the tumult
+that raged about him--a tumult in whispers--a civil war in silence--the
+object of this was going on his way unconscious and undisturbed.
+
+Now, however, having learned that the old clerk was actually seeking to
+fix this charge upon him, George perceived the whispering and understood
+the charge. When he passed through the first or outer office in the
+morning, he perceived that the clerks all looked at him curiously, and
+that they pretended not to be looking at him, and plied their pens with
+zeal. On the stairs he met an articled clerk, who blushed a rosy red
+with consciousness of the thing: on his way to his own room through his
+own clerks' room, he felt them looking after him curiously as he passed;
+and he felt them, when his own door was closed, whispering about him.
+This made him extremely angry. Yet, for a whisper, one cannot suffer
+wrath to become visible. That would only please the whisperers. There
+is only one thing worse than to be suspected rightly; it is to be
+suspected wrongly; for the latter makes a man mad. What? That he--even
+he--the man of principle and rule, should be suspected! Does nothing,
+then--no amount of character, no blamelessness of record, avail? Is the
+world coming to an end?
+
+George then shut his door and sat down to his table in a very wrathful
+and savage frame of mind. And while he was just beginning to nurse and
+nourish this wrath, coaxing it from a red glow to a roaring flame, a
+card was brought to him.
+
+'I will see Sir Samuel at once,' he said.
+
+It is as well that we do not hear the remarks of the clerks' room and
+the servants' hall. The Service, in fact, is a body of critics whose
+judgments would, if we only heard them, cause us to reconsider our
+self-respect. Great Philanthropist, great Statesman, saintly
+Preacher--if you only knew what they say of you--down below!
+
+The clerks, as Sir Samuel Dering--his face composed to the solemnity of
+a mute--walked into the new Partner's room, whispered to each other:
+'He's going to finish him. There'll be a bolt to-night.--He won't dare
+face it out.--He _have_ got a nerve!!!--The game's up at last.--They
+won't prosecute; you see if they do. If it was one of us, now.--Sir
+Samuel's come to warn him--now you'll see.' With other exchanges and
+surmises.
+
+Sir Samuel, big and important, coldly inclined his head and took a
+chair. 'A few words,' he said--'a few serious words, if you please,
+sir.'
+
+'Pray, go on.' George sat up and listened, his upper lip stiffened. He
+knew what was coming. The thing which Sir Samuel proposed to say,
+apparently became difficult. He turned red and stammered. In fact, it is
+very difficult to inform a highly respectable young man in a highly
+respectable position that he is going to be charged with a crime of
+peculiar atrocity.
+
+'I am here,' he said, after two or three false starts, 'without my
+brother's knowledge. This is a private and unofficial visit. I come to
+advise. My visit must be regarded as without prejudice.'
+
+'Is it not well to ask first of all if your advice is invited?'
+
+'In such a case as this, I venture to obtrude advice,' Sir Samuel
+replied with dignity. 'There are occasions on which a man should
+speak--he is bound to speak. You will remember that I was to have been
+your brother-in-law----'
+
+'You are to be my brother-in-law. Well, Sir Samuel, go on. I will hear
+what you have to say.'
+
+'You are, as no doubt you suspect and fear, about to be charged in
+company with another, with complicity in this long series of forgeries.'
+
+'Really? I heard last night from Elsie that there was some talk of such
+a charge. Now, Sir Samuel, a man of your experience must be aware that
+it is not enough for a foolish old clerk to suggest a charge; but there
+must be some connection between the accused person and the crime.'
+
+'Connection? Good Heavens! There is a solid chain of evidence, without a
+single weak point.'
+
+'Is there indeed? Well, we will not ask for the production of your
+chain. Let us take it for granted. Go on to the next point.'
+
+'I wish, young gentleman, I wish most sincerely, for the credit
+of yourself, and for the happiness of the unfortunate girl who
+has given you her heart, that my chain was of glass, to fly into
+a thousand fragments. But it is not. Everything is complete. The
+motive: the tempter: the conspiracy: the working out: the apparent
+success--everything complete. The motive--want of money.'
+
+'Want of money? Well, I was pretty badly off. That cannot be denied. Go
+on.'
+
+'You wanted money--both of you--wanted money. In ninety cases out of a
+hundred, this is the cause--wanted money. So you went and did it. Always
+the way in the City--they want money--and so they go and do it--go and
+do it.'
+
+'I see. Well, we need not have the tempter and the rest of it. They can
+wait. Let us go on to the advice.'
+
+'Just so. What I came to say is this. You are in a devil of a mess,
+young gentleman: the whole job is found out: there's no use in trying to
+brazen it out. Best come down at once.'
+
+George nodded with as much good humour as he could assume under the
+circumstances.
+
+'Down at once,' Sir Samuel repeated. 'It is always best in the long run.
+In your case, there is every reason why a scandal should be avoided.
+The thing hasn't got into the papers: we are only yet in the first stage
+of finding out what has been actually stolen: it has not been a case in
+which the police could help. Now my brother is not a vindictive man. I,
+for my own part, don't want my wife's brother, to say nothing of you,
+convicted of forgery. Eh? Beastly thing, to go down to the City in the
+morning and to hear them whispering, "That's his wife's brother in the
+papers to-day. Lagged for fifteen years." Fifteen years for certain, it
+will be, my fine fellow.'
+
+'Fifteen years for certain,' George repeated.
+
+'Let me help you out of the mess. Don't make difficulties. Don't stick
+out your chin. Think of Elsie!'
+
+George nearly lost his self-control--not quite.
+
+'Think of Elsie!' he cried. 'Best not mention her name, Sir Samuel, if
+you please.'
+
+'She would be heart-broken if it went so far. If it stops short of that,
+she will soon get over the little disappointment.'
+
+'Go on to the next point.'
+
+'Well--it is just this. I'll help you both--Athelstan as well as
+you--yes--I'll help Athelstan. Hang the fellow! Why couldn't he stay at
+Camberwell? Who cares about him and his bad company, if he keeps himself
+out of people's way? Now, then. Let me have back the money. You haven't
+drawn anything out of the Bank. Give me the papers. Then I'll square it
+with my brother. I will advance you a hundred or two: you shall go clear
+out of the country, and never come back again. And then, though it's
+compounding a felony, we'll just put everything back again, and say
+nothing more about it.'
+
+'Oh! That is very good of you.'
+
+'Yes, I know. But I want to make things easy. I don't want a beastly row
+and a scandal. As for Athelstan, I shouldn't know the fellow if I ever
+saw him. I hardly remember him. But for you I've always had a liking,
+until these little events happened.'
+
+'Very good, indeed, of you.'
+
+'When the thing came out, I said to Lady Dering. "My dear," I said, "I'm
+very sorry for your sister, because it will vex her more than a bit. The
+engagement, of course, will be broken off; but we must not have a
+scandal. We cannot afford it. We can not"--he smiled--"we are positively
+not rich enough. Only the very richest people can afford to have such a
+scandal. I will try and get things squared," I said, "for all our
+sakes." That is what I said to Lady Dering. Now, be persuaded. Do the
+right thing. Tell Athelstan what I have told you. The warrant for the
+arrest of the man Edmund Gray will be issued to-morrow, I suppose, or
+next day. After that, nothing can save you.'
+
+'Nothing can save me,' George repeated. 'Is that all you came to say,
+Sir Samuel?'
+
+'That is all. A clean breast is all we ask.'
+
+'Then, Sir Samuel'--George rose and took a bundle of papers from the
+table--'let us find my Partner. You shall hear what I have to say.'
+
+'Ah! that's right--that's sensible. I knew that you would be open to
+reason. Come. He is sure to be alone at this early hour. Come at once.'
+
+They went out together. The clerks noted their faces full of 'business,'
+as we poetically put it--matters of buying and selling being notoriously
+of the highest importance conceivable. Evidently something very serious
+indeed had passed. But the chief personage still held up his head.
+'Game, sir, game to the last. But there will be a bolt.'
+
+Mr. Dering was in his usual place, before the letters, which were still
+unopened. He looked ill, worn, and worried.
+
+'Brother,' said Sir Samuel, 'I bring you a young gentleman who has a
+communication to make of great importance.'
+
+'Is it about this case? Have you--at last found out something?' The
+tone, the words, suggested extreme irritability.
+
+'I fear not. You know, I believe, all that we have found out. But now,'
+said Sir Samuel, rubbing his hands--'now comes the long-expected----'
+
+George interrupted--'What I have to say will not take long. I hear from
+Sir Samuel that he and Checkley between them have got up a case which
+involves me in these forgeries.'
+
+'Quite right,' said Sir Samuel. 'Involves you inextricably.'
+
+'And that things have gone so far that I am about to be arrested, tried,
+and convicted. Which he rightly thinks will be a great scandal. So it
+will--so it certainly will. He therefore proposes that I should make a
+clean breast of the whole business, and give back the stolen bonds. I am
+sorry that I cannot do this, for a very simple reason--namely, that
+there is nothing to confess. But there is one thing that I must do. You
+placed the case in my hands----'
+
+'I did. I asked you to find out. I have brought no charge against you.
+Have you found out?'
+
+Mr. Dering spoke like a schoolmaster in one of his least amiable moods.
+
+'It is a very improper thing for a person accused of a crime to be
+engaged in detecting it. So I resign the case--there are the papers. You
+had better go to some solicitor accustomed to this kind of work.'
+
+'Stuff and rubbish!' cried Mr. Dering.
+
+'Sir, you have deceived me.' Sir Samuel's face was gradually resuming
+its normal length. 'You promised to confess, and you have not. You as
+good as confessed just now.--This man is clearly, unmistakably guilty,'
+he added, turning to his brother.
+
+'I have not asked you, my Partner,' Mr. Dering added, more softly, 'to
+give up the case. I have heard what is said. I have observed that the
+so-called case is built up entirely on conjecture.'
+
+'No--no,' said Sir Samuel. 'It is a sound structure, complete in every
+part.'
+
+'And there is nothing as yet to connect any man with the thing--not even
+the man Edmund Gray.'
+
+'Quite wrong--quite wrong,' said Sir Samuel. 'In the City, we may not be
+lawyers, but we understand evidence.'
+
+'I cannot choose but give up the case,' George replied. 'Consider.
+Already Mrs. Arundel has requested her daughter to break off her
+engagement; I am forbidden the house; Elsie has left her mother and gone
+to her brother. No, sir--take the papers, and give them to some other
+person.'
+
+Mr. Dering mechanically took the papers, and laid his hand upon them.
+
+'Let me remind you,' George continued, 'how far we have got. We have
+proved that Edmund Gray is a real person, known to many. We have not
+proved the connection between him and the robberies committed in his
+name. He is apparently a most respectable person. The problem before you
+is still to fix the crime on someone. I shall be glad to hear that it
+has been successfully solved.'
+
+'Glad?' asked Sir Samuel. 'You will be glad? This is amazing!'
+
+'Eight years ago, Mr. Dering, another man stood here, and was accused of
+a similar crime. He refused to stay in the house under such a charge.
+That was foolish. Time has established his innocence. I shall stay. I am
+your Partner. The Partnership can only be dissolved by mutual consent. I
+remain.'
+
+Mr. Dering laid his head upon his hand and sighed. 'I believe I shall be
+driven mad before long with this business,' he said querulously. He had
+lost something of his decision of speech. 'Well, I will give the case to
+somebody else. Meantime, look here. Tell me how these things came here.'
+
+The 'things' were two envelopes containing letters. They were addressed
+to Edmund Gray, and had been opened. One of them was George's own note
+inviting him to call. The other was the letter from the Manager of the
+Bank asking for other references.
+
+'How did they get here?' asked Mr. Dering again.
+
+'Had you not better ask Checkley?' George rang the bell.
+
+'I found these on the top of my letters, Checkley,' said Mr. Dering.
+'You were the first in the room. You put the letters on the table. I
+found them on the top of the heap. Nobody had been in the room except
+you and me. You must have put them there.'
+
+Checkley looked at the envelopes, and began to tremble. 'I don't know,'
+he said. 'I put the letters on the table. They were not among them.
+Somebody must have put them there'--he looked at the new Partner--'some
+friend of Mr. Edmund Gray, between the time that I left the room and the
+time when you came.'
+
+'I entered the room,' Mr. Dering replied, 'as you were leaving it.'
+
+'Observe,' said George, 'that in the whole conduct of this business
+there has been one man engaged who has control of the letters. That
+man--the only man in the office--is, I believe, the man before us--your
+clerk--Checkley.'
+
+'How came the letters here?' Mr. Dering repeated angrily.
+
+'I don't know,' answered Checkley. 'He'--indicating George--'must have
+put them there.'
+
+'The Devil is in the office, I believe. How do things come here? How do
+they vanish? Who put the notes in the safe? Who took the certificates
+out of the safe? All you can do is to stand and accuse each other. What
+good are you--any of you? Find out. Find out. Yesterday, there was a
+handbill about Edmund Gray in the safe. The day before there was a
+handful of Socialist tracts on the letters. Find out, I say.'
+
+'Give the things to detectives,' said George.
+
+'Let me take the case in hand, brother.' Sir Samuel laid hands on the
+papers. 'I flatter myself that I will very soon have the fellow under
+lock and key. And then, sir'--he turned to George--'scandal or no
+scandal, there shall be no pity--no mercy--none.'
+
+George laughed. 'Well, Sir Samuel, in a fortnight or so I shall call
+myself your brother-in-law. Till then, farewell.' He left the office and
+returned to his own room, the ripple of the laughter still upon his lips
+and in his eyes, so that the clerks marvelled, and the faith of those
+who believed in him was strengthened.
+
+'Before then, young crowing bantam,' cried Sir Samuel after him, 'I
+shall have you under lock and key.'
+
+'Ah!' This was Checkley. The little interjection expressed, far more
+than any words could do, his satisfaction at the prospect. Then he left
+the room grumbling and muttering.
+
+'I believe that this business will finish me off.' Mr. Dering sighed
+again, and passed his hand over his forehead. 'Night and day it worries
+me. It makes my forgetfulness grow upon me. I am as good as gone. This
+hour I cannot remember the last hour. See--I had breakfast at home as
+usual. I remember that. I remember setting out. It is ten minutes walk
+from Bedford Row to here. I have taken an hour and a half. How? I do not
+know. What did I do last night? I do not know; and I am pursued by this
+forger--robber--demon. He puts things in my safe--yesterday, a placard
+that Edmund Gray was going to give a lecture on something or other--the
+day before, a bundle of tracts by Edmund Gray. What do these things
+mean? What can I do?'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+HE COMES FROM EDMUND GRAY
+
+
+'Nothing,' said Athelstan, 'could possibly happen more fortunately. We
+have turned whispering conspirators into declared enemies. Now you are
+free to investigate in your own way without having to report progress
+every day.'
+
+'About this new business about the letters and the things in the safe,'
+said Elsie. 'It looks to me like _diablerie_. Checkley couldn't do it.
+No conjuror in the world could do it. There must be somebody else in the
+office to do these things. They mean defiance. The forger says: "See--I
+do what I please with you. I return your letters addressed to Edmund
+Gray. I place placards about Edmund Gray in your safe--for which nobody
+has a key except yourself. Find me, if you can."'
+
+'Yes; it is very mysterious.'
+
+'A Person on Two Sticks might manage it. Very likely, he is concerned in
+the business. Or a boy under the table would be able to do it. Perhaps
+there is a boy under the table. There must be. Mr. Dering's table is
+like the big bed of Ware. I daresay fifty boys might creep under that
+table and wait there for a chance. But perhaps there is only one--a
+comic boy.'
+
+'I should like to catch the joker,' said George. 'I would give him
+something still more humorous to laugh at.'
+
+'If there is no comic boy--and no Person on Two Sticks,' Elsie
+continued, 'we are thrown back upon Checkley. He seems to be the only
+man who receives the letters and goes in and out of the office all day.
+Well--I don't think it is Checkley. I don't think it can be-- George,
+you once saw Mr. Dering in a very strange condition, unconscious,
+walking about with open eyes seeing nobody. Don't you think that he may
+have done this more than once?'
+
+'What do you mean, Elsie?'
+
+'Don't you think that some of these things--things put in the safe, for
+instance, may have been put there by Mr. Dering himself? You saw him
+open the safe. Afterwards he knew nothing about it. Could he not do
+this more than once--might it be a habit?'
+
+'Well--but if he puts the things in the safe--things that belonged to
+Edmund Gray, he must know Edmund Gray. For instance, how did he get my
+note to Edmund Gray, left by me on his table in Gray's Inn? That must
+have been given to him by Edmund Gray himself.'
+
+'Or by some friend of Edmund Gray. Yes; that is quite certain.'
+
+'Come,' said Athelstan. 'This infernal Edmund Gray is too much with us.
+Let us leave off talking about him for a while. Let him rest for this
+evening.--Elsie, put on your things. We will go and dine somewhere, and
+go to the play afterwards.'
+
+They did so. They had the quiet little restaurant dinner that girls have
+learned of late to love so much--the little dinner, where everything
+seems so much brighter and better served than one can get at home. After
+the dinner they went to a theatre, taking places in the Dress Circle,
+where, given good eyes, one sees quite as well as from the stalls at
+half the money. After the theatre they went home and there was an
+exhibition of tobacco and soda water. Those were very pleasant days in
+the Piccadilly lodgings, even allowing for the troubles which brought
+them about. Athelstan was the most delightful of brothers, and every
+evening brought its feast of laughter and of delightful talk. But all
+through the evening, all through the play, Elsie saw nothing but Mr.
+Dering and him engaged in daylight somnambulism. She saw him as George
+described him, opening the safe, closing it again, and afterwards wholly
+forgetful of what he had done.
+
+She thought about this all night. Now, when one has a gleam or glimmer
+of an idea, when one wants to disengage a single thought from the
+myriads which cross the brain, and to fix it and to make it clear, there
+is nothing in the world so good as to talk about it. The effort of
+finding words with which to drag it out makes it clearer. Every
+story-teller knows that the mere telling of a story turns his
+characters, who before were mere shadows, and shapeless shadows, into
+creatures of flesh and blood. Therefore, in the morning she began upon
+the thought which haunted her.
+
+'Athelstan,' she said, 'do you know anything about somnambulism?'
+
+'I knew a man once in California who shot a grizzly when he was
+sleep-walking. At least, he said so. That's the sum of my knowledge on
+the subject.'
+
+'I want to know if people often walk about in the daytime unconscious?'
+
+'They do. It is called wool-gathering.'
+
+'Seriously, Athelstan. Consider. George saw Mr. Dering arrive in a state
+of unconsciousness. He saw nobody in the room. He opened the safe and
+placed some papers there. Then he locked the safe. Then he sat down at
+the window. Presently he awoke, and became himself again. If he did that
+once, he might do it again.'
+
+'Well? And then?'
+
+'You heard yesterday about the letters, and the placard and the
+Socialist tracts. Now Checkley couldn't do that. He couldn't, and he
+wouldn't.'
+
+'Well?'
+
+'But Mr. Dering could. If he had that attack once, he might have it
+again and again. Why, he constantly complains of forgetting things.'
+
+'But the letters yesterday were addressed to Edmund Gray. How do you
+connect Edmund Gray with Edward Dering?'
+
+'I don't know. But, my dear brother, the more I think of this business,
+the more persuaded I am that Checkley is not the prime mover, or even a
+confederate.'
+
+'The same hand has doubtless been at work throughout. If not Checkley's
+aid to make that hand possible and successful, who is there? And look at
+the malignity with which he tries to fix it on some one else.'
+
+'That may be because he is afraid of its being fixed upon him. Consider
+that point about the control of the letters. The business could only be
+done by some one through whose hands passed all the letters.'
+
+'Checkley is the only person possible.'
+
+'Yes; he understands that. It makes him horribly afraid. He therefore
+lies with all his might in order to pass on suspicion to another person.
+You and George think him guilty--well, I do not. If I were trying to
+find out the man, I should try a different plan altogether.'
+
+Her brother had work to do which took him out directly after an early
+breakfast. When Elsie was left alone, she began again to think about
+Mr. Dering's strange daylight somnambulism; about his continual fits of
+forgetfulness; about the odd things found on his table and in his safe,
+all connected with Edmund Gray. Checkley could not have placed those
+letters on the table: he could not have put those things in the safe.
+
+Elsie looked at the clock. It was only just after nine. She ran to her
+room, put on her jacket and hat, and called a cab.
+
+She arrived at half-past nine. Checkley was already in his master's
+room, laying out the table for the day's work as usual. The girl was
+touched at the sight of this old servant of sixty years' service doing
+these offices zealously and jealously. She stood in the outer office
+watching him through the open door. When he had finished, he came out
+and saw her.
+
+'Oh!' he grumbled. 'It's you, is it? Well--he hasn't come. If you want
+to see Mr. Dering, it's full early. If you want to see the new partner,
+he isn't come. He don't hurry himself. Perhaps you'll sit down a bit and
+look at the paper. Here's the _Times_. He'll be here at a quarter to
+ten.'
+
+Checkley sat down at his desk and took up a pen. But he laid it down
+again and began to talk. 'We're in trouble, Miss. No fault of yours-- I
+don't say it is. We're in trouble. The trouble is going to be worse
+before it's better. They're not content with robbing the master, but
+they mock at him and jeer him. They jeer him. They put on his table
+letters addressed to the man they call Edmund Gray. They open his safe
+and put things in it belonging to Edmund Gray. We're not so young as we
+was, and it tells upon us. We're not so regular as we should be.
+Sometimes we're late--and sometimes we seem, just for a bit, not to know
+exactly who we are nor what we are. Oh! it's nothing--nothing, but what
+will pass away when the trouble's over. But think of the black
+ingratitood, Miss--Oh! black--black. I'm not blamin' you; but I think
+you ought to know the trouble we're in--considering who's done it and
+all.'
+
+Elsie made no reply. She had nothing to say. Certainly she could not
+enter into a discussion with this man as to the part, if any, taken in
+the business by the new partner. Then Checkley made a show of beginning
+to write with zeal. The morning was hot: the place was quiet: the old
+man's hand gradually slackened: the pen stopped: the eyes closed: his
+head dropped back upon his chair: he was asleep. It is not uncommon for
+an old man to drop off in this way.
+
+Elsie sat perfectly still. At eleven o'clock she heard a step upon the
+stairs. It mounted: it stopped: the private door was opened, and Mr.
+Dering entered. He stood for a moment in the doorway, looking about the
+room. Now, as the girl looked at him, she perceived that he was again in
+the condition described by George--as a matter of fact, it was in this
+condition that Mr. Dering generally arrived in the morning. His coat was
+unbuttoned: his face wore the genial and benevolent look which we do not
+generally associate with lawyers of fifty years' standing: the eyes were
+Mr. Dering's eyes, but they were changed--not in colour or in form, but
+in expression. Elsie was reminded of her portrait. That imaginary sketch
+was no other than the Mr. Dering who now stood before her.
+
+He closed the door behind him and walked across the room to the window.
+
+Then Elsie, lightly, so as not to awaken the drowsy old clerk, stepped
+into Mr. Dering's office and shut the door softly behind her.
+
+The sleep-walker stood at the window, looking out. Elsie crept up and
+stood beside him. Then she touched him on the arm. He started and
+turned. 'Young lady,' he said, 'what can I do for you?' He showed no
+sign of recognition at all in his eyes: he did not know her. 'Can I do
+anything for you?' he repeated.
+
+'I am afraid--nothing,' she replied.
+
+He looked at her doubtfully. Then apparently remembering some duty as
+yet unfulfilled, he left the window and unlocked the safe. He then drew
+out of his pocket a manuscript tied up with red tape. Elsie looked into
+the safe and read the title--'_The New Humanity_, by Edmund Gray,' which
+was written in large letters on the outer page. Then he shut and locked
+the safe and dropped the key in his own pocket. This done, he returned
+to the window and sat down, taking no manner of notice of his visitor.
+All this exactly as he had done before in presence of George and his old
+clerk.
+
+For ten minutes he sat there. Then he shivered, straightened himself,
+stood up, and looked about the room, Mr. Dering again.
+
+'Elsie!' he cried. 'I did not know you were here. How long have you been
+here?'
+
+'Not very long. A few minutes, perhaps.'
+
+'I must have fallen asleep. It is a hot morning. You must forgive the
+weakness of an old man, child. I had a bad night too. I was awake a long
+time, thinking of all these troubles and worries. They can't find out,
+Elsie, who has robbed me.' He spoke querulously and helplessly. 'They
+accuse each other, instead of laying their heads together. Nonsense!
+Checkley couldn't do it. George couldn't do it. The thing was done by
+somebody else. My brother came here with a cock-and-bull case, all built
+up of presumptions and conclusions. If they would only find out!'
+
+'The trouble is mine as much as yours, Mr. Dering. I have had to leave
+my mother's house, where I had to listen to agreeable prophecies about
+my lover and my brother. I wish, with you, that they would find out!'
+
+He took off his hat and hung it on its peg. He buttoned his frock-coat
+and took his place at the table, upright and precise. Yet his eyes were
+anxious.
+
+'They tease me too. They mock me. Yesterday, they laid two letters
+addressed to this man, Edmund Gray, on my letters. What for? To laugh at
+me, to defy me to find them out. Checkley swears he didn't put them
+there. I arrived at the moment when he was leaving the room. Are we
+haunted? And the day before--and the day before that--there were things
+put in the safe----'
+
+'In the safe? Oh! but nobody has the key except yourself. How can
+anything be put in the safe?'
+
+'I don't know. I don't know anything. I don't know what may be taken
+next. My houses--my mortgages, my lands, my very practice----'
+
+'Nay,--they could not. Is there anything this morning?'
+
+He turned over his letters. 'Apparently not. Stay; I have not looked in
+the safe. He got up and threw open the safe. Then he took up a packet.
+'Again!' he cried almost with a scream. 'Again! See this!' He tossed on
+the table the packet which he had himself, only ten minutes before,
+placed in the safe with his own hands. 'See this! Thus they laugh at
+me--thus they torment me!' He hurled the packet to the other side of the
+room, returned to his chair, and laid his head upon his hands, sighing
+deeply.
+
+Elsie took up the parcel. It was rather a bulky manuscript. The title
+you have heard. She untied the tape and turned over the pages. The work,
+she saw, was the Autobiography of Edmund Gray. _And it was in the
+handwriting of Mr. Dering!_
+
+She replaced it in the safe. 'Put everything there,' she said, 'which is
+sent to you. Everything. Do you know anything at all about this man
+Edmund Gray?'
+
+'Nothing, my dear child, absolutely nothing. I never saw the man. I
+never heard of him. Yet he has planted himself upon me. He holds his
+Chambers on a letter of recommendation from me. I was his introducer to
+the manager of the Bank--I--in my own handwriting--as they thought. He
+drew a cheque of 720_l_. upon me eight years ago. And he has transferred
+thirty-eight thousand pounds' worth of shares and stock to his own
+address.'
+
+'Added to which, he has been the cause of suspicion and vile accusation
+against my lover and my brother, which it will cost a great deal of
+patience to forgive. Dear Mr. Dering, I am so sorry for you. It is most
+wonderful and most mysterious. Suppose,' she laid her hand upon
+his--'suppose that I was to find out for you----'
+
+'You, child? What can you do, when the others have failed?'
+
+'I can but try.'
+
+'Try, in Heaven's name. Try, my dear. If you find out, you shall be
+burned for a witch.'
+
+'No. If I find out, you shall be present at my wedding. You were to have
+given me away. But now--now--Athelstan shall give me away, and you will
+be there to see. And it will be a tearful wedding'--the tears came into
+her own eyes just to illustrate the remark--'because everyone will be so
+ashamed of the wicked things they have said. Sir Samuel will remain on
+his knees the whole service, and Checkley will be fain to get under the
+seat.--Good-bye, Mr. Dering. I am a Prophetess. I can foretell. You
+shall hear in a very few days all about Edmund Gray.'
+
+She ran away without any further explanation. Mr. Dering shook his head
+and smiled. He did not believe in contemporary Prophecy. That young
+people should place their own affairs--their love-makings and
+weddings--before the affairs of their elders, was not surprising. For
+himself, as he sometimes remembered--and always when this girl, with
+her pretty ways and soft voice, was with him--her visit had cheered him.
+He opened his letters and went on with the day's work.
+
+As for Elsie, the smile in her eyes died out as she descended the
+stairs. If she had been herself a lawyer, she could not have worn a
+graver face as she walked across the courts of the venerable Inn.
+
+She had established the connection between Mr. Dering and Edmund Gray.
+It was he, and nobody else, who laid those letters on the table--placed
+those things in the safe. This being so, it must be he himself, and
+nobody else, who wrote all the letters, signed the cheques, and did all
+the mischief. He himself! But how? Elsie had read of hypnotism.
+Wonderful things are done daily by mesmerists and magnetisms under their
+new name. Mr. Dering was hypnotised by this man Edmund Gray--as he
+called himself--for his own base ends. Well--she would find out this
+Edmund Gray. She would beard this villain in his own den.
+
+She walked resolutely to Gray's Inn. She found No. 22--she mounted the
+stairs. The outer door was closed. She knocked, but there was no answer.
+She remembered how George had found his laundress, and visited her at
+her lodgings--she thought she would do the same. But on the stairs she
+went down she met an old woman so dirty, so ancient, so feeble, that she
+seemed to correspond with George's account of her.
+
+'You are Mr. Gray's laundress?' she asked.
+
+'Yes, Miss; I am.' The woman looked astonished to see such a visitor.
+
+'I want to see him. I want to see him on very important business. Most
+important to himself. When can I see him?'
+
+'I don't know, Miss. He is uncertain. He was here yesterday evening. He
+said he should not be here this evening. But I don't know.'
+
+'Look here.' Elsie drew out her purse. 'Tell me when you think he will
+be here, and if I find him I will give you two pounds--two golden
+sovereigns. If you tell me right I will give you two sovereigns.'
+
+She showed them. The old woman looked hungrily at the coins. 'Well,
+Miss, he's been here every Saturday afternoon for the last six months. I
+know it by the litter of papers that he makes. Every Saturday
+afternoon.'
+
+'Very good. You shall have your money if I find him.'
+
+In the evening, Elsie said nothing about Mr. Dering and her strange
+discovery. The two young men talked about trying this way and that way,
+always with the view of implicating Checkley. But she said nothing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+I AM EDMUND GRAY
+
+
+On Saturday afternoon, the policeman on day-duty at Gray's Inn was
+standing near the southern portals of that venerable Foundation in
+conversation with the boy who dispenses the newspapers, from a warehouse
+constructed in the eastern wall of the archway. It was half-past three
+by the clock and a fine day, which was remarkable for the
+season--August--and the year. The sun poured upon the dingy old courts,
+making them dingier instead of brighter. Where the paint of the windows
+and door-posts is faded and dirty--where the panes are mostly in want of
+cleaning--where there are no flowers in the windows--where there are no
+trees or leaves in the Square--where the bricks want painting, and where
+the soot has gathered in every chink and blackens every cranny--then the
+sunshine of summer only makes a dingy court shabbier. Gray's Inn in July
+and August, unless these months are as the August of the year of grace
+1891, looks old, but not venerable. Age should be clean and nicely
+dressed: age should wear a front to conceal her baldness: age should
+assume false teeth to disguise those gums stripped of their ivory. It
+was felt by the policeman. 'We want a washin' and a brightenin' in this
+old place,' he remarked to the journalist. We want somethin' younger
+than them old laundresses,' said the newspaper boy. Great is the Goddess
+Coincidence. Even while he uttered this aspiration, a young lady entered
+the gate and passed into the Inn.
+
+'Ha!' breathed the policeman, softly.
+
+'Ah!' sighed the journalist.
+
+She was a young lady of adorable face and form, surpassing the wildest
+dreams either of policeman or of paper-man--both of whom possessed the
+true poetic temperament. She was clothed in raiment mystic, wonderful,
+such as seldom indeed gets as far east as Gray's Inn, something in gray
+or silver gray with an open front and a kind of jacket. She passed them
+rapidly, and walked through the passage into the Square.
+
+'No. 22,' said the policeman. 'Now, who does she want at No. 22? Who's
+on the ground-floor of 22?'
+
+'Right hand--Architects and Surveyors. Left hand--Universal
+Translators.'
+
+'Perhaps she's a Universal Translator. They must be all gone by this
+time. The first floor is lawyers. They're all gone too. I saw the clerks
+march out at two o'clock. Second floor--there's Mr. Carstone on the
+left, and Mr. Edmund Gray on the right. Perhaps it's Mr. Carstone she's
+after. I hope it isn't him. He's a gentleman with fine manners, and they
+do say a great scholar, but he's a Lushington, and a sweet young thing
+like that ought not to marry a man who is brought home every other night
+too tipsy to stand. Or there's Mr. Gray--the old gent--perhaps she's his
+daughter. What's Mr. Edmund Gray by calling, Joe?'
+
+'Nobody knows. He don't often come. An old gentleman--been in the Inn a
+long time--for years. Lives in the country, I suppose, and does no work.
+Lives on other people's work--my work--honest working men's work,' said
+the boy, who was a Socialist and advanced.
+
+'Ah! There's something up about Mr. Gray. People are coming to inquire
+for him. First, it was a young gentleman: very affable he was--and free
+with his money--most likely other people's money. He wanted to know a
+good deal about Mr. Gray--more than I could tell him--wanted to know how
+often he came, and what he was like when he did come--and would I tell
+him all I knew. He went to the old laundress afterwards.--Then it was a
+little old man--I know him by sight--uses the _Salutation_ Parlour of an
+evening--he wanted to know all about Mr. Gray too. No half-crown in that
+quarter, though. He's been spying and watching for him--goes and hides
+up the passage on the other side of the Square. Kind of a spider he is.
+He's watching him for no good, I'll bet. Perhaps the young lady wants to
+find out about him too.--Joe, there's something up at No. 22. The old
+gentleman isn't in his chambers, I believe. She'll come out again
+presently, and it'll be: "Oh, Mr. Policeman, could you very kindly tell
+me how I can find Mr. Edmund Gray?" With a shilling perhaps, and
+perhaps not. I wonder what she wants with Mr. Edmund Gray? Sometimes
+these old chaps break out in the most surprising manner. Joe, if you
+ever go into the Service, you'll find the work hard and the pay small.
+But there's compensation in learnin' things. If you want to know human
+nature, go into the Force.'
+
+'There's old Mr. Langhorne, up at the top.'
+
+'So there is. But no young lady wants to see that poor old chap. He's
+got no friends, young nor old--no friends and no money. Just now, he's
+terrible hard up. Took a shillin' off o' me last Sunday to get a bit of
+dinner with. Fine thing--isn't it, Joe?--to be a gentleman and a
+barrister all your life, isn't it--and to end like that? Starvation in a
+garret--eh?-- Look out. She will be coming down directly.'
+
+But she did not come down. Two hours and more passed, and she did not
+come down.
+
+The visitor was Elsie Arundel. She walked up the stairs to the second
+floor. Here she stopped. There was a black door, closed, on the right of
+her, and another black door, closed, on the left of her. On the lintel
+of one was the name of Mr. F. W. Carstone. On the lintel of the other
+was that of Mr. Edmund Gray. Elsie knocked with her parasol at the
+latter door. There was no reply. 'The old laundress,' she murmured,
+'told me that Saturday afternoon was my best chance of finding him. I
+will wait.' She sat down with hesitation on the stairs leading to the
+third floor--they were not too clean--and waited.
+
+She was going to do a very plucky thing--a dangerous thing. She had made
+a discovery connecting Mr. Dering directly with this Edmund Gray. She
+had learned that he came to the office in a strange condition, perhaps
+hypnotic, bringing things from Edmund Gray. She now suspected that the
+only person who carried on the forgeries on Mr. Dering was Mr. Dering
+himself, acted on and perhaps mesmerised by Edmund Gray--and she wanted
+to find out who this Edmund Gray was. She would confront him and tax him
+with the crime. It was dangerous, but he could not kill her. Besides, he
+was described as quite an elderly man. He was also described as a
+benevolent man, a charitable man, a kindly man: and he wrote letters
+brimful of the most cheerful optimism. Yet he was carrying on a series
+of complicated forgeries. She resolved to wait for him. She would wait
+till sundown, if necessary, for him.
+
+The place was very quiet. All the offices were closed and the clerks
+gone. Most of the men who lived in the chambers were away, out of town,
+gone on holiday, gone away from Saturday till Monday. Everything was
+quite quiet and still: the traffic in Holborn was only heard as a
+continuous murmur which formed part of the stillness: the policeman, who
+had now said all he had to say to the newspaper boy, was walking slowly
+and with heavy tread round the Court. The Inn was quite empty and
+deserted and still. Only, overhead there was the footfall of a man who
+walked up and down his room steadily, never stopping or ceasing or
+changing the time, like the beat of a pendulum. Elsie began to wonder,
+presently, who this man could be, and if he had nothing better to do
+than to pace his chamber all day long, when the sun was bright and the
+leaves on the trees and the flowers in full bloom.
+
+The clock struck four: Elsie had been waiting half an hour: still Mr.
+Edmund Gray did not arrive: still the steady beat of the footstep
+continued overhead.
+
+The clock struck five. Still that steady footfall. Still Elsie sat upon
+the stairs waiting in patience.
+
+When the clock struck six, the footsteps stopped--or changed. Then a
+door overhead opened and shut and the steps came down the stairs. Elsie
+rose and stood on one side. An old man came down--tall and thin,
+close-shaven, pale, dressed in a black frock-coat, worn to a shiny
+polish in all those parts which take a polish--a shabby old man whose
+hat seemed hardly able to stand upright: and a gentleman--which was
+perfectly clear from his bearing--a gentleman in the last stage of
+poverty and decay.
+
+He started, surprised to see a young lady on the stairs.
+
+'You are waiting for Mr. Carstone?' he asked. 'He is out of town. He
+will not be back till Monday. Nobody ever comes back before Monday. From
+Saturday to Monday I have the Inn to myself. All that time there are no
+slammers and no strangers. It is an agreeable retreat, if only----' He
+shook his head and stopped short.
+
+'I am not waiting for Mr. Carstone. I am waiting for Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+'He is very uncertain. No one knows when he comes or whither he goeth. I
+would not wait if I were you. He may come to-day, or to-morrow, or at
+any time. He comes on Sunday morning, often. I hear him coming up-stairs
+after the chapel bell stops. He is a quiet neighbour--no slammer or
+tramper. I would not wait, I say, if I were you.'
+
+'I will wait a little longer. I am very anxious to see Mr. Gray.'
+
+'He should wait for you,' Mr. Langhorne replied, politely. 'The stairs
+are not a fit resting-place for you. This old Inn is too quiet for such
+as you. Mirth and joy belong to you-- Silence and rest to such as me.
+Even slamming does not, I daresay, greatly displease youth and beauty.
+Chambers are not for young ladies. Beauty looks for life and love and
+admiration. They do not exist here. Run away, young lady--leave the Inn
+to the poor old men, like me, who cannot get away if they would.'
+
+'Thank you.--I must see Mr. Edmund Gray, if I can. It will not hurt me
+to wait a little longer.'
+
+'You wish to see Edmund Gray. So do I. So do I. You are a friend of his.
+Perhaps, therefore, you will do as well. Those who are his friends are
+like unto him for kindness of heart. Those who wish to be his friends
+must try to be like unto him. Young lady, I will treat you as the friend
+of that good man. You can act for him.'
+
+'What can I do if I do act for him?' But there was a hungry eagerness in
+the man's eyes which made her divine what she could do.
+
+'It is Saturday.' He replied without looking at her. He turned away his
+head. He spoke to the stair-window. 'To-morrow is Sunday. I have before
+this, on one or two occasions, found myself as I do now--without money.
+I have borrowed of Mr. Carstone and of Mr. Edmund Gray. Sometimes, I
+have paid it back--not always. Lend me--for Mr. Edmund Gray--if you are
+not rich, he will give it back to you--the sum of five shillings--say,
+five shillings. Otherwise, I shall have nothing to eat until Monday,
+when Mr. Carstone returns.'
+
+'Nothing to eat? Nothing at all to eat?' Beggars in the street often
+make the same confession, but somehow their words fail to carry
+conviction. Mr. Langhorne, however, did carry conviction.
+
+The old man shook his head. 'I had some food yesterday at this time.
+Since then I have had nothing. There was neither tea nor bread in my
+rooms for breakfast. When the clock struck six, my dinner hour, I
+thought I would walk along the street and look at the things to eat
+which are placed in the shop windows. That relieves a little. But
+to-morrow will be a bad time--a very bad time. I shall lie in bed. Oh! I
+have gone through it before. Sometimes'--he dropped his voice--'I have
+been sore tempted to take something---- No--no; don't think I have given
+way. No--no. Why--I should be--disbarred. Not yet--not yet.'
+
+Elsie opened her purse. It contained two sovereigns and a shilling or
+two. 'Take all,' she said eagerly. 'Take all the gold, and leave me the
+silver. Take it instantly.' She stamped her foot.
+
+He hesitated. 'All?' he asked. 'All? Can you spare it? I can never
+repay----'
+
+'Take it!' she said again, imperiously.
+
+He obeyed: he took the gold out of the purse with trembling fingers.
+Then he raised his rickety old hat--was that a tear that stole into his
+eyes, or the rheum of old age?--and slowly walked down the stairs,
+holding by the banisters. He was weak, poor wretch! with hunger. But it
+was his dinner hour, and he was going to have his dinner.
+
+Elsie sat down again.
+
+It was half-past six--she had been waiting for three hours--when other
+footsteps entered the house. Elsie sprang to her feet: she turned pale:
+her heart stood still; for now she realised that if this step was truly
+that of the man she expected, she was about to confront a person
+certainly of the deepest criminality, and possibly capable of villainy
+in any other direction. The steps mounted the stairs. I really think
+that the bravest persons in the world are those who before the event
+look forward to it with the utmost apprehension. They know, you see,
+what the dangers are. Elsie was going to face a great danger. She was
+going to find out, alone and unaided, who this man was, and why and how
+he worked these deeds of darkness.
+
+The footsteps mounted higher: from the door to the top of the stairs it
+took but a single minute, yet to Elsie it seemed half an hour, so rapid
+were her thoughts. Then the man mounted the last flight of steps.
+Heavens! Elsie was fain to cry out for sheer amazement. She cried out:
+she caught at the banisters. For, before her, taking the key of Mr.
+Edmund Gray's Chambers from his waistcoat pocket, was none other than
+Mr. Dering himself!
+
+Yes. An elderly man, of truly benevolent aspect, his coat open flying
+all abroad, his face soft, gracious, smiling, and full of sunshine, his
+hat just the least bit pushed back, his left hand in his pocket. Elsie
+thought again of her portrait at home, in which she had transformed her
+guardian--and here he was in the flesh--transformed according to her
+portrait.
+
+She stared at him with an amazement that bereft her of speech and of
+motion. She could only stare. Even if her mother's voice were suddenly
+to call out to her that it is rude for little girls to stare, she could
+not choose but stare. For Mr. Dering looked at her with that kind of
+surprise in his eyes which means, 'What have we here to do with
+beautiful young ladies?' There was not the least sign of any knowledge
+of her. He looked at her as one suffers the eyes to rest for a moment
+without interest upon a stranger and a casual passenger in the street.
+
+He opened his outer door, and was about to walk in, when she recovered
+some presence of mind--not much. She stepped forward. 'Can you tell me,
+please, how I could find Mr. Edmund Gray?'
+
+'Certainly,' he smiled--'nothing easier. 'I am Edmund Gray.'
+
+'You!--you--Edmund Gray? Oh! No--no. You cannot be Edmund Gray--you
+yourself!' All her beautiful theory of hypnotic influence vanished. No
+mesmerism or magnetic influence at all. 'You yourself?' she repeated,
+'you--Edmund Gray?'
+
+'Assuredly. Why not? Why should a man not be himself?'
+
+'Oh! I don't understand. The world is going upside down. I took
+you--took you for another person.'
+
+He laughed gently. 'Truly, I am none other than Edmund Gray--always
+Edmund Gray. My first name I can never change if I wished, because it is
+my baptismal name. The latter I do not wish to change, because it is my
+name ancestral.'
+
+'I asked because--because--I fancied a resemblance to another person.
+Were you ever told that you are much like a certain other person?'
+
+'No; I think not. Resemblances, however, are extremely superficial. No
+two living creatures are alike. We are alone, each living out his life
+in the great Cosmos, quite alone--unlike any other living creature.
+However, I am Edmund Gray, young lady. It isn't often that I receive a
+visit from a young lady in these Chambers. If you have no other doubt
+upon that point, will you let me ask you, once more, how I can help you?
+And will you come in and sit down?'
+
+'Oh! it is wonderful,' she cried--'wonderful! most wonderful!' Again she
+controlled herself. 'Are you,' she asked again, 'the same Mr. Edmund
+Gray who wrote the letter to the _Times_ the other day?'
+
+'Certainly. There is no other person, I believe, of the name in this
+Inn. Have you read that letter?'
+
+'Yes--oh, yes.'
+
+'And you have come here to talk to me about that letter?'
+
+'Yes--yes.' She caught at the hint. 'That is why I came--to talk about
+that letter. I came in the hope of finding the author of that letter at
+home.'
+
+He threw open the door of his sitting-room.
+
+'Will you step in? We can talk quite quietly here. The Inn at this
+hour on Saturday is almost deserted.' He closed the outer door and
+followed his visitor into the sitting-room. 'This,' he went on, 'is
+the quietest place in the whole of London. We have not, in this
+Square, the stately elms of the old garden, but still we have our little
+advantages--spacious rooms--quiet always in the evening and on Sundays.
+A few rackety young men, perhaps; but for one who reads and meditates,
+no better place in London.--Now, young lady, take the easy-chair and sit
+down. We will talk. There are very few people who talk to me about my
+theories. That is because I am old, so that I have lost my friends, and
+because my views are in advance of the world. No man is so lonely as the
+man born before his time. He is the prophet, you know, who must be
+stoned because he prophesies things unintelligible and therefore
+uncomfortable--even terrifying. I shall be very glad to talk a little
+with you.--Now, allow me first to open these letters.'
+
+Elsie sat down and looked about her. She was in a large low wainscoted
+room, with two windows looking upon the Square. The room was quite
+plainly but quite well furnished. There was a good-sized study table
+with drawers: a small table between the windows: a few chairs, a couch
+and an easy-chair; and a large bookcase filled with books--books on
+Socialism, George had told her. A door opened upon a smaller room: there
+was probably a bedroom at the back. A plain carpet covered the floor.
+Above the high old-fashioned mantel were two or three portraits of
+Socialist leaders. The room, if everything had not been covered with
+dust, would have been coldly neat: the chairs were all in their places:
+the window-blinds were half-way down as the laundress thought was
+proper--millions of Londoners always keep their blinds half-way down--a
+subject which must some day be investigated by the Folklore Society: the
+curtains were neatly looped: it wanted only a Bible on a table at a
+window to make it the Front Parlour of a Dalston Villa. There were no
+flowers, no ornaments of any kind.
+
+Mr. Edmund Gray opened half-a-dozen letters lying on his table and
+glanced at them. There were a great many more waiting to be opened.
+
+'All are from people who have read my letter,' he said. 'They share with
+me in the new Faith of a new Humanity. Happy is the man who strikes the
+note of leading at the right moment. Happy he who lights the lamp just
+when the darkness is beginning to be felt.--Yes, young lady, you are not
+the only one who has been drawn towards the doctrines of that letter.
+But I have no time to write to all of them. A letter makes one
+convert--a paragraph may make a thousand.'
+
+Elsie rose from her chair. She had decided on her line. You have heard
+that her voice was curiously soft and winning--a voice that charms--a
+voice which would soothe a wild creature, and fill a young man's heart
+with whatever passion she chose to awaken. She had, besides, those soft
+eyes which make men surrender their secrets, part with their power and
+their strength. Did she know that she possessed all this power?--the
+girl who had no experience save of one man's love, and that the most
+natural, easy, and unromantic love in the world, when two who are
+brought up side by side and see each other every day, presently catch
+each other by the hand and walk for the future hand in hand without a
+word. Yet Delilah herself, the experienced, the crafty, the trained and
+taught--could not--did not--act more cleverly and craftily than this
+artless damsel. To be sure, she possessed great advantages over
+Delilah--by some esteemed attractive--in the matter of personal charm.
+
+'Oh!' she murmured softly, 'it is a shame that you should be expected to
+waste your valuable time in writing letters to these people. You must
+not do it. Your time is wanted for the world, not for individuals.'
+
+'It is,' he replied--'it is. You have said it.'
+
+'You are a Master--a Leader--a Prince in Israel--a Preacher--a Prophet.'
+
+'I am--I am. You have said it. I should not myself have dared to say it.
+But I am.'
+
+'No one can doubt it who has read that letter. Be my Master--too--as
+well as the Master of--of all these people who write to you.'
+
+'Be your Master?' He blushed like a boy. 'Could I desire anything
+better?'
+
+'My Father and my Master,' she added with a little change of colour.
+Girls take fright very easily, and perhaps this old gentleman might
+interpret the invitation--well--into something other than was meant.
+
+'Yes--yes.' He held out his hand. She took it in her own--both her own
+soft hands, and bowed her head--her comely head--over it.
+
+'I came to-day thinking only'--Oh, Delilah!--'to thank you for your
+great and generous and noble words, which have put fresh heart into me.
+And now that I have thanked you, I am emboldened to ask a favour----'
+
+'Anything, anything.'
+
+'You will be my Master--you will teach me. Let me, in return, relieve
+you of this work.' She laid her hand on the pile of letters. 'Let me
+answer them for you. Let me be your Private Secretary. I have nothing to
+do. Let me work for you.' She looked into his face with the sweetest
+eyes and the most winning smile, and her voice warmed the old man's ear
+like soft music. Ah, Circe!--'Now that I have seen you--let me be your
+disciple, your most humble disciple, and'--Ah, Siren!--'let me be more,
+Edmund Gray--I cannot say Mr. Gray--let me be more, Edmund Gray.' She
+laid her hand, her soft-gloved, dainty, delicate hand, upon his, and it
+produced the effect of an electric battery gently handled. 'Let me be
+your Secretary.'
+
+It was ten o'clock before Elsie reached home that evening, and she
+refused to tell them, even her own brother and her lover, where she had
+been or how she had spent her evening.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+MASTER AND DISCIPLE
+
+
+It was Sunday afternoon in Gray's Inn. The new Disciple sat at the feet
+of the Master, her Gamaliel: one does not know exactly the attitude
+adopted by a young Rabbi of old, but in this case the disciple sat in a
+low chair, her hands folded in her lap, curiously and earnestly watching
+the Master as he walked up and down the room preaching and teaching.
+
+'Master,' she asked, 'have you always preached and held these
+doctrines?'
+
+'Not always. There was a time when I dwelt in darkness--like the rest of
+the world.'
+
+'How did you learn these things? By reading books?'
+
+'No. I discovered them. I worked them out for myself by logic, by
+reason, and by observation. Everything good and true must be discovered
+by a man for himself.'
+
+'What did you believe in that old time? Was it, with the rest of the
+world, the sacredness of Property?'
+
+'Perhaps.' He stood in front of her, laying his right forefinger in his
+left forefinger and inclining his head. 'My dear young scholar, one who
+believes as I believe, not with half a heart, but wholly, and without
+reserve, willingly forgets the time when he was as yet groping blindly
+in darkness or walking in artificial light. He wishes to forget that
+time. There is no profit in remembering that time. I have so far drilled
+and trained myself not to remember that time, that I have in fact clean
+forgotten it. I do not remember what I thought or what I said, or with
+whom I associated in that time. It is a most blessed forgetfulness. I
+daresay I could recover the memory of it if I wished, but the effort
+would be painful. Spare me. The recovery of that Part would be
+humiliating. Spare me, scholar. Yet, if you wish--if you command----'
+
+'Oh, no, no! Forgive me.' Elsie touched his hand. He took hers and held
+it. Was it with a little joy or a little fear that the girl observed the
+power she already had over him? 'I would not cause you pain.
+Besides--what does it matter?'
+
+'You know, my child, when the monk assumes the tonsure and the triple
+cord, he leaves behind him, outside the cell, all the things of the
+world--ambition, love, luxury, the pride of the eye--all--all. He
+forgets everything. He casts away everything. He abandons
+everything--for meditation and prayer. The monk,' added the Sage, 'is a
+foolish person, because his meditation advances not the world a whit. I
+am like the monk, save that I think for the world instead of myself. And
+so, spending days and nights in meditation, I know not what went
+before--nor do I care. It is a second birth when the new faith takes you
+and holds you together, so that you care for nothing else. Oh,
+child!--upon you also this shall come--this obsession--this
+possession--so that your spirit shall know of no time but that spent in
+the service of the Cause. Nay, I go so far that I forget from day to day
+what passed, except when I was actively engaged for the Cause. Yesterday
+I was here in the afternoon. You came. We talked. You offered yourself
+as my disciple. I remember every word you said. Could I ever forget a
+disciple so trustful and so humble? But--before you came. Where was I?
+Doubtless here--meditating. But I know not. Then there are things which
+one must do to live--breakfast, dinner--of these I remember nothing. Why
+should I? It is a great gift and reward to me that I should not remember
+unnecessary things--low and common things. Why should I try to do so?
+
+'No--no,' murmured the catechumen, carried away by his earnestness.
+'Best forget them. Best live altogether in and for the Cause.' Yet--she
+wondered--how was she to bring things home to him unless he could be
+made to remember? He was mad one hour and sane the next. How should she
+bridge the gulf and make the mad man cross over to _the other side_?
+
+The Master took her hand in his and held it paternally. 'We needed such
+a disciple as you,' he went on, slightly bending his head over her.
+'Among my followers there is earnestness without understanding. They
+believe in the good time, but they are impatient. They want revolution,
+which is terrific and destroys. I want conviction. There are times when
+a great idea flies abroad like the flame through the stubble. But men's
+minds must first be so prepared that they are ready for it. The world is
+not yet ready for my idea, and I am old, and may die too soon to see the
+sudden rise of the mighty flood, when that doctrine shall suddenly
+cease in all mankind. We need disciples. Above all, we need women. Why
+do women, I wonder, throw themselves away in imitating man, when there
+are a thousand things that they can do better than any man? I want
+women--young, beautiful, faithful. I can find work for hundreds of
+women. Hypatia would be worth to me--to us--far more than he of the
+Golden Mouth. Child--your sweet voice, your sweet face, your sweet
+eyes--I want them. I will take them and use them--expend them--for the
+great Cause. It may be that you will be called upon to become the first
+martyr of the Cause. Hypatia was murdered by a raging mob. You will have
+against you a mob worse than any of Alexandria. You will have a mob
+composed of all those who are rich, and all who want to be rich, and all
+the servile crews at their command. Happy girl! You will be torn to
+pieces for the cause of humanity. Happy girl! I see the roaring,
+shrieking mob. I see your slender figure on the steps--what steps?
+Where? I hear your voice, clear and high. You are preaching to them;
+they close in round you: you disappear--they have dragged you down: they
+trample the life out of you. You are dead--dead--dead--and a name for
+ever. And the Cause has had its martyr.'
+
+It was strange. She who had offered herself as a disciple with deception
+in her heart, thinking only to watch and wait and spy until she could
+see her way plain before her, who knew that she was listening to the
+voice and the dreams of a madman. Yet she was carried away: he made her
+see the mob: she saw herself dragged down and trampled under their
+heels. She shuddered, yet she was exultant: her eyes glowed with a new
+light: she murmured: 'Yes--yes. Do with me what you please. I am your
+disciple, and I will be your martyr, if you please.'
+
+Great and wonderful is the power of Enthusiasm. You see, it matters
+nothing--nothing in the world--what a man has to preach and
+teach--whether he advocates Obi, or telepathy, or rapping, or spirits
+who hide teacups in coat pockets--it matters nothing that there is
+neither common sense nor evidence, nor common reason to back him: if he
+only possess the magnetic power, he will create a following: he will
+have disciples who will follow him to the death. What is it--this power?
+It makes the orator, the poet, the painter, the novelist, the
+dramatist: it makes the leader of men: it made the first King, the first
+Priest, the first Conqueror.
+
+'Come,' said Mr. Edmund Gray; 'the time passes. I must take you to my
+Place.'
+
+They walked out together, Master and Scholar. The man who was mad walked
+carelessly and buoyantly, his coat flying open, one hand in his pocket,
+the other brandishing his walking-stick, his head thrown back, his face
+full of light, and, though his words were sometimes strong, always full
+of kindness. Now the sane man, the man of Lincoln's Inn, wore his coat
+tightly buttoned, walked with a firm precise step, looked straight
+before him, and showed the face of one wholly occupied with his own
+thoughts. There was a man who was mad and a man who was sane: and
+certainly the madman was the more interesting of the two.
+
+'This place,' said the Master, meaning Gray's Inn, 'is entirely filled
+with those who live by and for the defence of Property. They absorb and
+devour a vast portion of it while they defend it. No one, you see,
+defends it unless he is paid for it. Your country, your family, your
+honour--you will defend for nothing; but not another man's Property--no.
+For that you must be paid. Every year it becomes more necessary to
+defend Property; every year the hordes of mercenaries increase. Here
+they are lawyers and lawyers' clerks--a vast multitude. Outside there
+are agents, brokers, insurers, financiers--I know not what--all
+defending Property. They produce nothing, these armies: they take their
+toll: they devour a part of what other people have produced before they
+hand on the residue to the man who says it is his Property.'
+
+'Oh!'--but Elsie did not say this aloud--'if these words could only be
+heard in Lincoln's Inn! If they could be repeated to a certain lawyer.'
+From time to time she looked at him curiously. How if he should suddenly
+return to his senses? What would he think? How should she explain? 'Mr.
+Dering, you have been off your head. You have been talking the most
+blasphemous things about Property. You would never believe that even in
+madness you could say such things.' No; he never would believe
+it--never. He could not believe it. What if his brother, Sir Samuel,
+were to hear those words? Meantime, the Apostle walked along
+unconscious, filled with his great Mission. Oh, heavens! that Mr.
+Dering--Mr. Dering--should believe he had a Mission!
+
+The Master stopped a passing tramcar. 'Let us climb up to the roof,' he
+said. 'There we can talk and breathe and look about us, and sometimes we
+can listen.'
+
+On the seat in front of them sat two young men, almost boys, talking
+together eagerly. Mr. Edmund Gray leaned forward and listened
+shamelessly. 'They are two young atheists,' he said. 'They are cursing
+religion. There is to be a discussion this evening at Battle Arches
+between a Christian and an Atheist, and they are going to assist. They
+should be occupied with the question of the day; they can not, because
+they, too, are paid defenders of Property. They are lawyers' clerks.
+They are poor and they are slaves: all their lives they will be slaves
+and they will be poor. Instead of fighting against slavery and poverty,
+which they know and feel, they fight against the Unknown and the
+Unintelligible. Pity! Pity!'
+
+They passed two great Railway Termini, covering an immense area with
+immense buildings.
+
+'Now,' said the Sage, 'there are millions of Property invested in
+railways. Whenever the railway servants please, they can destroy all
+that Property at a stroke. Perhaps you will live to see this done.'
+
+'But,' said Elsie timidly, 'we must have things carried up and down the
+country.'
+
+'Certainly. We shall go carrying things up and down the country, but not
+in the interests of Property.'
+
+The tram ran past the stations and under broad railway arches, called
+Battle Arches--where the two young atheists got down, eager for the
+fray, always renewed every Sunday afternoon, with the display of much
+intellectual skill and much ignorance. It is a duel from which both
+combatants retire, breathed and flushed, proud of having displayed so
+much smartness, both claiming the victory, surrounded by admiring
+followers, and neither of them killed, neither of them hurt, neither of
+them a bit the worse, and both ready to begin again the following Sunday
+with exactly the same attack and exactly the same defence. There are
+some institutions--Christianity, the Church of England, the House of
+Lords, for instance--which invite and receive perpetual attacks, from
+which they emerge without the least hurt, so far as one can perceive. If
+they were all abolished to-morrow, what would the spouters do?
+
+The car stopped again, and two girls mounted--two work girls of the
+better sort--not, that is to say, the sort which wears an ulster and a
+large hat with a flaming feather in it: working-girl dressed quietly and
+neatly. They ought to have been cheerful and even gay, for they were
+both young, both good-looking, both nicely dressed, and it was Sunday
+afternoon, warm and sunny. Yet they were not cheerful at all. One of
+them was in a rage royal, and the other, her friend, was in a rage
+sympathetic--quite a real rage. They were talking loudly on the kerb
+while they waited for the tram: they carried on their conversation as
+they climbed the stair: they continued it while they chose a seat, and
+before they sat down, without the least regard to those who sat near
+them, whether they overheard or wished not to hear--or anything. They
+were wholly occupied with themselves and their rage and their narrative.
+They neither saw nor heeded anyone else--which is the way that the angry
+woman has.
+
+'So I told her--I up and told her, I did. "Yes," I sez, "you and your
+fifteen hours a day and overtime," I sez--"and your fines--so as to rob
+the poor girls of their money, and your stinkin' little room, as isn't
+fit for two, let alone a dozen--and your flarin' gas," I sez, "to choke
+us and poison us--and your dinners--yah! your dinners," I sez--"fit for
+pigs; and your beast of a husband comin' round with his looks and his
+leers"--"You let my husband alone," she sez--"His looks and his leers,"
+I sez. "Some day the girls'll take him out and drownd him head first, in
+the gutter," I sez. "And a good job too!"'
+
+'You didn't say all that, Liz?' asked the other, admiringly. 'My! What's
+she say to that? "Her beast of a husband"? And "his looks and his
+leers"? Did you really, Liz, and her that jealous?'
+
+'I did. Oh! I let her have it. For once she did have it. Then I took my
+money and I went off.--Never mind what she called me; that don't matter.
+She got the truth for once.'
+
+'What do you make of this, disciple?' asked the Master.
+
+'It seems a quarrel between the girl and her employer.'
+
+'These are the makers of Property. They are not the soldiers who defend
+it. They are those who create it. The girls are employed by the sweater,
+who stands on the lowest rung of the ladder of Property, and steals the
+things as fast as they are made.'
+
+'One of them has been turned out. What will she do? Will she find
+another place?'
+
+'I don't know. What becomes of the young? It is a difficult question. No
+one knows. Some say this and some say that. We know what becomes of the
+old when they are turned out. They die. But as for the young, I know
+not. You are young, and you are a woman. Go among the young women who
+have been turned out and find for yourself--for the world--what does
+become of them.'
+
+They passed an immense churchyard, with an ancient church standing in
+the midst--the churchyard now cleared of its headstones and converted
+into a beautiful garden, after the modern fashion, in which we have
+abandoned the pretence of remembering the dead, and plant flowers and
+turf above their graves for the solace of the living. Why not? Let the
+nameless dead be remembered by the nameless dead. Their virtues, if they
+had any, may live after them in their descendants.
+
+'See,' said Mr. Edmund Gray, moralising. 'Here they lie, those who were
+soldiers of Property and those who were slaves of Property. They are
+mostly the poor of their parish who lie in that garden. No headstones
+mark their grave. They were born: they toiled for others to enjoy: and
+they died. Is this the life that men should most desire?'
+
+'Nay,' said the disciple. 'But there must be the strong and weak--clever
+and dull: there must be inequalities.'
+
+'Yes, inequalities of gifts. One man is stronger, one is sharper, one is
+cleverer than another. Formerly, those gifts were used to make their
+possessor richer and more powerful. The strong man got followers and
+made slaves. The clever man cheated the dull man out of his land and his
+liberty. Henceforth, these gifts will be used for the general good.
+Patience! You shall understand all in good time.'
+
+He stopped the tram and they descended.
+
+Lying east of the Hampstead Road and Camden High Street, and bounded on
+that side by the canal--the great space occupied by the Midland and
+Great Northern Goods Depot, by gas-works, wharfs, and railway
+arches--there is a network of streets very little known to any but the
+parish clergy. No part of London is less interesting than this district.
+It used to be called Somers Town, but I think that the old name has
+almost died out. It is about a hundred years old, regarded as a
+settlement: it possesses three churches at least, two work-houses, one
+almshouse, and three burial-grounds turned into gardens. It is also
+cheered by the presence of a coal depot. Many small industries are
+carried on in this quarter: there are many lodging-houses: the streets
+are rather grimy, the houses are rather shabby, the people are rather
+slipshod. They are not criminals: they are, in a way, respectable--that
+is to say, tolerably respectable. It is not a picturesque suburb:
+dulness reigns: it is a dull, a dull, a dismally dull quarter. There are
+children, but they lack mirth: and young girls, but they lack the spring
+of youth: one would say that there was a low standard in everything,
+even in the brightness of dress: the place looks better in winter than
+in summer. To-day, the bright sunshine only made the shabbiness of the
+streets more shabby.
+
+'Is your place here?' asked Elsie.
+
+'Yes; it is here.--You wonder why I came here. Because the people here
+are not all working-people. Some of them are small employers--those of
+whom I spoke--who stand on the lowest rung of the ladder and steal the
+things as fast as they are made, and take toll, and hoard up savings.
+The working-man is generous and open to others, compared with these
+people. I planted my place down in the midst of them. But you shall
+see--you shall see.'
+
+It was like a dream. Elsie walked beside her conductor. Yesterday she
+made the acquaintance of this man for the first time; she had never seen
+him before except in his sane condition; he was a madman--a real
+dangerous madman--stark staring mad; he was taking her she knew not
+where--to some place among strange people: she walked beside him without
+the least fear. She who would have fled before the most harmless
+lunatic; and she was going with him as his disciple.
+
+'George,' she said afterwards, 'I do not know how it happened. I could
+not choose but go with him. I could not choose but to become his
+disciple: he compelled me. I lost my will. I even forgot that he was a
+madman: I gave up my reason and all: I followed him, and I believed all
+that he told me. How did he get that power? Directly I left him, I
+became myself again. I perceived the mad enthusiast. I saw Mr. Dering
+caricatured and proclaiming foolishness. But in his presence I was his
+servant and his slave.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'Here we are,' he said. 'This is my Place. Let us go in.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE HALL OF THE NEW FAITH
+
+
+The Place, as Mr. Edmund Gray modestly called it, was a meek and
+unpretending Structure. The word is used advisedly, because no one could
+call it anything else. Not an Edifice; not a Building--a Structure. It
+turned its gabled front to the street, with a door below and a window
+above. It was of gray brick with a slate roof--a very plain and simple
+Structure. It might have been a Primitive Methodist Chapel--the
+Connexion are fond of such neat and unpretending places: or a room
+belonging to the Salvation Army: or one of those queer lecture halls
+affected by Secularists and generally called the Hall of Science. On the
+doorpost was affixed a small handbill, announcing that every Sunday
+evening at seven o'clock an address would be pronounced by Edmund Gray,
+on the subject of 'Property.' On the same bill, below the line of the
+principal title, were suggestive sub-titles. Thus:
+
+  'PROPERTY AND ITS ORIGIN.'
+  'PROPERTY AND ITS EVILS.'
+  'PROPERTY AND ITS DANGERS.'
+  'PROPERTY AND LIBERTY.'
+  'PROPERTY AND PROGRESS.'
+  'PROPERTY AND ITS DECAY.'
+
+The Master pointed to the Bill. 'Read it,' he said. 'There you have my
+mission clearly announced. No mistake about it. A bold pronouncement,
+which cannot be mistaken. I make war against Property--I am the enemy
+irreconcilable--the enemy to the death--of Property. I am almost alone
+against the world, for my followers are a feeble folk and without power.
+All the interests, all the prejudices, all the powers, all the
+intellect, of the whole world are against me. I stand alone. But I
+fear nothing, because the future is given over to me and to
+mine--yea--though I do not live to see the day of Victory.'
+
+He opened the door, and Elsie entered. She found herself in a room about
+sixty feet long by twenty broad, and lofty--a fine and goodly room. It
+was furnished with a long and narrow table running down the middle, and
+a few benches. Nothing else. The table was laid with a white cloth, and
+provided with plates of ham and beef, cold sausages, hard-boiled eggs,
+cakes, toast, muffins, bread and butter, marmalade, jam, shrimps,
+water-cresses, and teacups. In fact, there was spread out a Tea of
+generous proportions.
+
+The room was half filled with thirty or forty people, mostly young,
+though there were some elderly men. Among them Elsie remarked, without
+surprise, the decayed Barrister of Gray's Inn. Perhaps he was attracted
+as much by the loaves as by the sermon. Three-quarters of them were
+young men. Elsie noticed that they were young men of a curious
+type--their faces keen, their eyes hard, their manner aggressive. They
+belonged to a Church Militant. They longed to be fighting. On the
+appearance of their preacher they flocked about him, shaking hands and
+inquiring after his health. At least, therefore, he had the affection of
+his followers.
+
+'My friends,' said the Prophet, 'I bring you a new Disciple. She comes
+to us from the very stronghold of Property. Her friends'--yet he had
+shown no sign of recognition--'are either those who pillage the
+producer, or those who rob the possessor on pretence of defending him.
+She is at present only a recruit. She comes to listen and to learn. She
+will go home to remember and to meditate. She is a recruit now who will
+be hereafter a Leader.'
+
+The people received her with curiosity. They were not of the higher
+classes, to put it mildly, and they had never had a young lady among
+them before. Two or three girls who were present--girls from the
+dressmaker's workrooms--looked at her frock with envy, and at her bonnet
+and her gloves with a yearning, helpless, heart-sinking admiration. To
+the young men she seemed a goddess, unapproachable. They stood at a
+distance: men of the rank above them would have worshipped. These young
+men only gaped. Such a girl had nothing to do with their lives.
+
+Apparently they had been waiting for the Master, for at the moment a
+stout woman and a girl appeared bearing trays with teapots and jugs of
+hot water, which they placed upon the board. Mr. Edmund Gray took the
+chair. Elsie began to feel like Alice in Wonderland. She came to see a
+'Place': she expected to hear a sermon or a lecture; and behold a Tea!
+
+'Sit beside me,' said the Master. 'We begin our evening on Sunday with a
+simple feast, which I provide. It is a sign of brotherhood. Every Sunday
+we begin with this renewal of fraternity. Those who break bread together
+are brothers and sisters. In the good time to come every meal shall be
+in common, and every evening meal shall be a Feast. Eat and drink with
+us, my daughter. So you will understand that you belong to a
+Brotherhood.'
+
+'Try some shrimps, Miss,' said her neighbour on the right, an elderly
+man, who was a builder's foreman.
+
+History does not concern itself with what Elsie took. She found the meal
+very much to the purpose after a long afternoon of talk, argument, and
+emotion. She was young and she was hungry. The tea was good: the things
+to eat were good: the cake and toast were admirable. Elsie ate and drank
+and wondered what was coming next.
+
+After a little, she began to look round her and to watch the company.
+There were now, she counted, forty-five of them--forty-five disciples of
+Mr. Edmund Gray. What had he to teach them? The destruction of Property.
+Out of the four millions of London, forty-five were found who wanted to
+destroy Property--only forty-five. But perhaps all who advocated that
+step were not present. Her ancient prejudices whispered that this was a
+reassuring fact, considering that the Preacher had preached his doctrine
+for nine long years. Only forty-five. Next to her the foreman began to
+talk to her of Fourier and Owen, and a dozen half-forgotten leaders in
+the old experiments. He had been a Chartist in the Forties: he was a
+Socialist in these, the Nineties: but he confessed that before any real
+reform was attempted, Property must first be destroyed.
+
+'It's the selfishness,' he whispered earnestly, 'that's got to be torn
+out by the roots. Take that away, and there's a chance for the world. It
+never can be taken away till a man finds that he can't work no longer
+for himself, and that he must work for all, whether he likes it or lumps
+it. Don't give him the choice nor the chance, I say. Take away Property,
+and there's neither choice nor chance left. You hear Mr. Gray upon
+that. Oh, he's powerful! What do they say? Naked we came into the world.
+Naked we enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. There's a wonderful lot of
+fine things hangin' to that. You must wait till you hear Mr. Gray upon
+that theme.--Kingdom of Heaven! To hear the parsons talk, it's away
+above the clouds. Not so. It's here--close beside us--on this earth. All
+we've got to do is to put out our hands and reach it.'
+
+'You may put out your hands as much as you like,' said one of the
+younger men; 'but you won't reach it, all the same. Property stands
+between.'
+
+'At our place,' said a girl sitting opposite--a girl of intelligent
+face, pale and thin,--'we work from eight till eight, and sometimes
+longer, for twelve shillings a week. I know what things cost and what
+they sell for. I could produce enough to keep me--ah! a good deal better
+than I live now--if I could sell what I made myself--for four hours'
+work a day. So I work eight hours a day, not counting the dinner hour,
+just to keep the boss and to make Property for him. My Property it
+is--well--I know--in here, we say, _our_ Property: outside we say, _my_
+Property. Where's your Kingdom of Heaven, then, if you reach out your
+hand ever so far, so long as I've got to work to make somebody else
+rich? Let's destroy Property, and then we shall see.'
+
+A desire--a foolish concealed desire, born of prejudice, seized Elsie to
+argue. For she perceived in the girl's reasoning certain confusions and
+intricacies. But she had the courage to suppress the inclination: she
+refrained. She was a disciple. She must listen.
+
+'I am a slave, like all the rest of us,' another young man remarked
+cheerfully. 'My Master owns me. He can sell me if he likes, only he
+calls it by another name; he can't take a whip and lash me, though he'd
+like to, because, if he did, I'd break every bone in his body for him,
+but he can cut down the work and the money. I do editing and reporting
+for a local paper. Thirty shillings a week. The proprietor makes ten
+pounds a week out of it. And I'm not allowed to tell the truth for fear
+of advertisers.' He added a few words not commonly heard in a place that
+looks like a chapel on a Sunday evening.
+
+Elsie observed that their faces showed two variations of
+expression--only two. The majority of the company had the eyes of the
+dreamer, the theorist, the enthusiast. They are soft eyes, and in repose
+are heavy, and they look through stone walls into space, far away--space
+where their dreams are realised and men and women live according to
+their theories. In moments of enthusiasm and passion they become flaming
+fires. These eyes belonged to most of those present. The rest--the
+minority--were those who are angry and restless and eager for the
+practical application of the doctrine. These want revolution: they are
+impatient: they feel for themselves the injustices and impressions which
+enthusiasts feel for others: these are always resentful: the others are
+always hopeful: these want to convert the world at once with bludgeon
+and with gun: the others are certain that before long the world will be
+converted by reason. The one despairs of anything but force: the other
+will have no force: the one hates his enemy: he would kill him if he
+could: he has no words too bad for him: the enthusiast, on the other
+hand, regards his enemy with pity, and would at any moment welcome him,
+forgive him, and--well--invite him to a Fraternal Tea if he would only
+desert his ranks and come over. And these are the two divisions in every
+party, and such is the nature of man that there must always be these two
+divisions.
+
+The Fraternal Tea finished, the company cleared the tables, everybody
+lending a hand, perhaps as another sign or pledge of fraternity. It was
+then nearly seven o'clock, the hour appointed for the address. The door
+was thrown wide open for the admission of the world; but there was no
+sign that the world took the least interest in the subject of Property.
+No one came at all. Elsie learned afterwards that the world outside the
+Hall had long since grown tired of the subject on which Mr. Gray had
+been preaching for nine years. Those who came to the Tea were the inner
+circle of believers or disciples, a small but faithful company, to whose
+members there was rarely any addition.
+
+At seven Mr. Edmund Gray rose to commence his address, standing at the
+head of the table, so that it was like an after-dinner speech. Outside,
+the sun was hot and bright and the air clear. Within the Hall, there
+were the mingled odours and steams of long-protracted and hearty
+Fraternal Tea: the air was heavy and the room dark. When the Master
+began to speak, a young man--one of the ardent and wrathful kind--drew
+out a note-book and took everything down: all listened with respect,
+some with rapt interest. Some nodded--some groaned--some said 'Hear'
+softly--to encourage the preacher and to show their adhesion to
+principle.
+
+Elsie sat at the right hand of the speaker. His discourses moved her
+much less in this public place than in his chambers. The persuasive
+voice was there, but it did not persuade her--moreover, she could not
+meet his eyes. Their magnetism failed to touch her. So much the better,
+because she could listen with cold judgment and watch the people.
+
+'My friends,' he began, 'my brothers and my sisters--we are all long
+since agreed that the root of all evil, the first form of disease, the
+first fatal step that was leading to so many other mischiefs, was the
+beginning of Property. We have proved that so often--we are all so
+entirely agreed upon this vital principle, that we seldom, and only on
+rare occasions, find it necessary to do more than assume its truth. That
+occasion, however, is the present, when we have among us one who comes
+as a stranger, yet a disciple: one who has a mind open to the influence
+of reason: one who is anxious to clear herself of the prejudices and
+absurdities in which she has been from infancy brought up. Let us,
+therefore, briefly, for her instruction and for the strengthening of our
+own faith, point out some of the arguments which support this position.
+It is to us an axiom. To the world it still requires proof. And the
+world refuses to accept the proof, because it is given over to the Chase
+of the Abominable Thing.'
+
+He proceeded to parade the reasons which made his School regard Property
+as the root of all evil. The line which lie pursued was not new: many
+men have pointed out before Mr. Edmund Gray the selfishness of mankind
+as illustrated by the universal game of Grab: others, with equal force,
+have shown that the protection of Things causes an immense expenditure
+and a great shrinkage in Things: others have shown that it is the
+continual efforts of men to get without working the Things for which
+others have worked, that fill our jails and keep up an army of police.
+
+'We start with a false principle,' the Master went on, 'which has ruined
+the world and still keeps it down. If there are to be rich men, they
+must become rich at the expense of the rest: they must be few and the
+poor must be many. Therefore, the protection of Property is the robbery
+of the poor by law. We all know that: in this place we have agreed, so
+far a thousand times: the rich can only become rich by robbing the poor:
+they rob their land: they rob their work: they rob their whole
+lives--and they are permitted and encouraged by the Law. Shall we, then,
+change the Law? No: it would be a work too vast. Shall we change the
+minds of men? Not by reason: it is impossible by any argument so long as
+by law and custom they can still rob the producer of his work. The only
+way is to destroy all Property. When men can no longer by any kind of
+thought get richer than their neighbours, then they will cease to think
+for themselves, and think for the whole community. You will say--some
+one may object--that some are not the same in strength of mind or of
+body: there will be many, then, who will refuse to work at all, and
+become burdens on the community. We have thought of that objection. At
+first, there would be many such; but not for long. Because we should
+kill them. Yes, my friends,' he added with a smile of the sweetest
+benevolence. 'For the good of the community it will be necessary,
+without any sentimental considerations, to kill all those who refuse to
+work, all those who shirk their work, all those who persistently do
+scamped and bad work. They must die. So the commonwealth shall contain
+none but those who are vigorous, loyal, and true. For the
+rest--Death--if it means the death of a million who were once
+rich--Death is the only escape from the difficulty which is so often
+objected.
+
+'It has been asked again how we differ from the Socialists. In this. We
+would begin with no theories, no constitution, no code. Only let every
+man give all his strength, all his heart, all his mind, to the good of
+the commonwealth, without the least power of enriching himself, saving
+money--of course there would be no money--without the chance of getting
+better food and better clothes than the rest--and we may safely leave
+the world to take care of itself. Why--my brothers--why--my
+sisters--should we poor purblind creatures, unable to comprehend more
+than a glimpse of that glorious future which awaits the world when
+Property shall be destroyed--why--I say--should we dare to lay down
+schemes and invent systems for that glorified humanity? Let us leave
+them to themselves. They will be as far above us, my brothers, as we are
+already above the holders and the defenders of Property.'
+
+Elsie looked at the little gathering--five-and-forty--with a little
+smile. They were then already far above the holders and the defenders of
+Property, and again she thought, 'What if these words were heard in
+Lincoln's Inn?'
+
+'How, then, can Property be destroyed?'
+
+At this practical question every one sat upright, coughed, and looked
+interested. Their Preacher had often enough declaimed upon the evils of
+Property. He seldom spoke of a practical way. Perhaps the time had come.
+
+'There are, my friends, several ways. They are already beginning to be
+understood and to be worked. The Irish and the politicians who wanted
+the Irish vote have shown the world how to destroy property in land.
+Believe me, that example will be followed. It was an evil day for the
+holders of Property when the Government interfered between the landlord
+and his tenant. That example will bear fruit elsewhere. We shall see
+everywhere the owners of the land turned out and their places taken by
+those who work the land. The next step is from land to houses. Why not
+with houses as with land? Since a beginning has been made, it must be
+carried on. But there is other property besides lands and houses. There
+are companies with shares, railways, and so forth. We have only begun to
+see what united labour can effect--since union of labour is, in fact,
+not yet begun. When it is fairly started it will pay small respect to
+shareholders and to dividends. When wages are paid, there will be
+perhaps no dividend left at all. In a single year--nay, a single
+week--the whole capital invested in all the companies will lose its
+value: it will be so much waste-paper. My friends, we need not stir hand
+or foot to bring about this end: it will be done for us by the
+working-man, and by those who follow the example of Ireland. They will
+do it for their own selfish ends first--but--Property once destroyed, we
+shall never again allow it to be created.
+
+'Oh!'--he warmed with his subject, his voice grew more musical, his face
+glowed--'I see a splendid--a noble sight. I see the great houses in the
+country fallen to ruin and decay: their contents are stored in museums:
+the great palaces of the towns are pulled down: the towns themselves are
+decayed and shrunk: there is no Property: there is no one working for
+himself: the man of science works his laboratory for the community--but
+he has the honour of his discoveries: the medical man pursues his work
+with no thought of getting rich: there is plenty to go the round of
+everything--oh! plenty of the best. We can have what we like, do what we
+like, dress as we like, teach what we please--provided we work for the
+State. If we refuse--Death! If we give bad work--Death! It is the only
+Law. We shall have no lawyers--no power--no magistrates. Oh! great and
+glorious time--you shall see it, you who are young--yes, you shall see
+it--while I--I--I--who have dreamed of the time so long--I shall lie low
+in the grave. What matter--so the time come and so the world rises free
+at last to follow out the destiny of a new and glorified humanity!'
+
+He sat down and laid his head upon his hand, as one in prayer. They
+remained in silence till he raised his head. Then the young man who had
+called attention to his slavery spoke.
+
+'There is perhaps another way,' he said, 'which might do the job for us.
+Suppose the chemists were to find out how to produce food--food of any
+kind--artificially--just as good and as nourishing as if it was
+butcher-meat or bread. Suppose it could be produced dirt cheap--most
+chemists' things cost nothing. Then no one would need to work: because
+he'd have his food found for him. If no one would need to work, no one
+could get rich any more. And if no one wanted to buy anything, nobody
+could sell. Then riches wouldn't count, and there you are. Let's get a
+chemist to take the thing up.'
+
+The conversation that followed struck out new ideas. Presently it
+flagged, and one by one the people stole away.
+
+The Master and the Disciple returned in the tram as far as Gray's Inn.
+
+The Master fell into profound silence a quarter of an hour before the
+end of the journey. When they got down, Elsie observed first, that he
+buttoned his coat; next, that he put on gloves; thirdly, that he pulled
+his hat forwards: and lastly, that he ignored her presence. He drew
+himself erect, and walked away with firm and precise step in the
+direction of Bedford Row, which is on the other side of Gray's Inn. He
+was once more Mr. Edward Dering.
+
+'I wonder,' said Elsie, 'how much, to-morrow, he will recollect?'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+CAN HE REMEMBER?
+
+
+It was past ten o'clock that Sunday evening when Elsie arrived home.
+Athelstan and George were waiting up for her. 'Again the mysterious
+appointment?' asked the former. 'Are we to know anything yet?'--Elsie
+shook her head.--'Not to-night? Very good. You look tired, Elsie.'
+
+'I am tired, thank you. And--and I think I would rather not talk
+to-night. I will go to my own room.--Have patience, both of you, for a
+day or two longer. Believe me, everything is going well. The only reason
+why I cannot tell you what I have been doing is that it is so
+strange--so wonderful--that I have not been able even to shape it into
+words in my own mind.--What is to-day? The 1st of August.'
+
+'Only eleven days yet--eleven long days,' said George, 'but also eleven
+short days.'
+
+'I do not forget. Well--you may both of you sit down--go about your
+business--you need do nothing more. As for me, I think you will have to
+get on without me every evening this week. But be quite easy. The thing
+is done.' And with that, nodding and laughing, she ran out of the room.
+
+'It is done,' repeated George. 'The thing is done. Which thing?'
+
+'It is done,' repeated Athelstan. 'What is done? How was it done? Who
+did it? When was it done?'
+
+'Since Elsie says it is done, I am bound to accept her assurance.
+Presumably, she has caught old Checkley at South Square, in the very
+act. Never mind; I am quite sure that Elsie knows what she says.'
+
+In her own retreat Elsie sat down to consider.
+
+If you think of it, she had a good deal to consider. She had, in fact, a
+tremendous weapon, an eighty-ton Woolwich, in her possession; a thing
+which had to be handled so that when it was fired it should not produce
+a general massacre. All those who had maligned and spoken and thought
+evil of her brother and her lover should, she thought, be laid
+prostrate by the mere puff and whiff of the discharge. Checkley should
+fall backwards, and raise a bump at the back of his head as big as an
+egg. Sir Samuel and Hilda should be tumbled down in the most ignominious
+fashion, just as if they had no money at all. And her mother should be
+forced to cry out that she had been wrong and hasty.
+
+She held in her own hands nothing less than the complete demolition of
+all this erection of suspicion and malignity. Nothing less. She could
+restore to her brother that which he had never lost, save in the eyes of
+his own people, who should have been the most jealous to preserve it. No
+greater service could be rendered to him. And she could clear from her
+lover's name whatever shreds and mists had been gathered round it by the
+industrious breath of Checkley--that humble Cloud Compeller. You see, we
+all have this much of Zeus in us, even in the compelling of Clouds:
+every man by the exercise of a little malignity, a little insinuation
+and a few falsehoods, can raise quite a considerable mist about the head
+or the name or the figure or the reputation of anyone. Women--some
+women, that is--are constantly engaged in this occupation; and after
+they have been at their work, it is sometimes hard for the brightest
+sunshine to melt those mists away.
+
+To be able to clear away clouds is a great thing. Besides this, Elsie
+had found out what the rest had failed to find out--and by the simplest
+method. She had learned from the only person who knew at what hour she
+should be most likely to find the mysterious Edmund Gray, and she had
+then waited on the stairs until he came. No method more direct--yet
+nobody thought of it except herself. She had done it. As the result,
+there was no longer any mystery. The man who forged the first cheque:
+the man who wrote those letters and conducted their transfer: was, as
+they all thought at first, Edmund Gray. No other. And Edmund Gray was
+Edward Dering, one and the same person--and Edward Dering was a Madman,
+and this discovery it was which so profoundly impressed her. There were
+no confederates: there was no one wanted to intercept the post: no one
+had tampered with the safe: the Chief himself had received the letters
+and conducted the correspondence alternately as Edmund Gray himself, or
+Edmund Gray acting unconsciously for Edward Dering.
+
+Perfectly impossible-- Perfectly simple-- Perfectly intelligible. As for
+the impossibility, a fact may remain when its impossibility is
+established. Elsie was not a psychologist or a student of the brain. She
+knew nothing about mental maladies. She only said after what she had
+seen and heard: 'The man is mad.'
+
+Then she thought how she should best act. To establish the identity of
+Mr. Dering and Edmund Gray must be done. It was the one thing necessary.
+Very well. That could easily be done, and in a simple way. She had only
+to march into his office at the head of a small band of witnesses and
+say: 'You wanted us to find out Edmund Gray! I have found him. And thou
+art the man!'
+
+He would deny it. He certainly knew nothing about it. Then she would
+call upon her witnesses. First, Athelstan's commissionaire, who declared
+that he should remember, even after eight years or eighty years, the
+gentleman who sent him to cash that cheque. 'Who is this man,
+commissionaire?'
+
+'That is Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+Next the landlord of his chambers. 'Who is this man?'
+
+'That is Mr. Edmund Gray, my tenant for nine years.'
+
+Then she would call the eminent Barrister, Mr. Langhorne. 'Do you know
+this man?'
+
+'He is my neighbour, Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+And Freddy Carstone the Coach.
+
+'He is my neighbour, Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+And the laundress, and she would say: 'I have done for the gentleman for
+nine years. He's a very good gentleman, and generous--and his name is
+Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+And the people from the Hall--and they would make answer, with one
+consent: 'That is Mr. Edmund Gray, our preacher and our teacher.'
+
+And she herself would give her testimony: 'I have sat with you in your
+Chambers. I have heard you lecture in your Hall, surrounded by these
+good people, and you are Edmund Gray.'
+
+The thing was quite easy to do. She could bring forward all this
+evidence at once, and it would be unanswerable and convincing even to
+Sir Samuel.
+
+Except for one thing which made it difficult.
+
+The discovery would be a most dreadful--a most terrible--revelation to
+one who believed himself to be the most respectable solicitor in the
+whole of London; the most trustworthy; the clearest in mind; the keenest
+in vision; the coldest in judgment. He would learn without the least
+previous suspicion or preparation, or any softening of the blow, that
+for many years he had been---- What? Is there any other word--any kinder
+word--any word less terrifying or less humiliating by which the news
+could be conveyed to him that he had been Mad--Mad--Mad? Heavens! what a
+word it is! How terrible to look at with its three little letters which
+mean so much! All the words that mean much are monosyllables:
+God--Love--Joy--Hate--Fear--Glad--Sad--Mad--Bad--Hell--Home--Wife--
+Child--House--Song--Feast--Wine--Kiss--everything--they are the oldest
+words, you see; they have been used from time immemorial by prehistoric
+man as well as by ourselves.
+
+Mr. Dering had to be told that he was Mad. Somehow or other, he must be
+told that. It seemed at first the only way out of the difficulty. How
+could this girl communicate the dreadful news to her guardian, who had
+always been to her considerate, and even affectionate? She shrank from
+the task. Then she thought she would hand it over to her brother
+Athelstan. But he was far more concerned about clearing up the hateful
+business than about softening the blow for Mr. Dering. Or of
+communicating it to George. What should she do? Mr. Dering was mad. Not
+mad all the time, but mad now and then, sometimes every day, sometimes
+with intervals. This kind of madness, I believe, takes many forms--a
+fact which should make the strongest men tremble. Sometimes it lasts a
+long time before it is found out. Sometimes even it is never found out
+at all. Solicitors and doctors tell queer stories about it. For
+instance, that story--quite a common story--of an old gentleman of
+irreproachable reputation, a speaker and leader in religious circles, a
+man enormously respected by all classes, concerning whom not his
+bitterest enemy had a word of scandal--yet, after his death, things
+deplorable, things incredible, things to be suppressed at any cost, were
+brought to the knowledge of his lawyers. At certain times he went mad,
+you see. Then he forgot who he was: he forgot his reputation, his place
+in the world, and the awful penalties of being found out: he went down:
+he lived among people of the baser sort, and became an inferior man with
+another name, and died without ever knowing his own dreadful record.
+Another of whom I have heard was mad for fifteen years, yet the Chief of
+a great House, who all the time conducted the business with great
+ability. He was found out at last because he began to buy things. Once
+he sent home six grand pianos: another time he bought all the cricket
+bats that were in stock in a certain shop; and another time he bought
+all the hats that fitted him at all the hatters' shops within a circle
+whose centre was Piccadilly Circus and the radius a mile long. After
+this they gave him a cheerful companion, who took walks abroad with him,
+and he retired from active business.
+
+Some philosophers maintain that we are all gone mad on certain points.
+In that case, if one does not know it or suspect it, and if our friends
+neither know nor suspect it, what does it matter? There are also, we all
+know, points on which some of us are mad, and everybody knows it. There
+is the man who believes that he is a great poet, and publishes volume
+after volume, all at his own expense, to prove it: there is the man--but
+he ought to be taken away and put on a treadmill--who writes letters to
+the papers on every conceivable subject with the day before yesterday's
+wisdom: there is the man who thinks he can paint--we all know plenty of
+men mad like unto these, and we are for the most part willing to
+tolerate them. Considerations, however, on the universality of the
+complaint fail to bring consolation to any except those who have it not.
+In the same way, nobody who dies of any disease is comforted with the
+thought of the rarity or the frequency of that disease; its interesting
+character has no charm for him. Nor is the man on his way to be hanged
+consoled by the reminder that thousands have trodden that flowery way
+before him. To Mr. Dering, proud of his own intellect, self-sufficient
+and strong, the discovery of these things would certainly bring
+humiliation intolerable, perhaps--even--shame unto Death itself.
+How--oh! how could things be managed so as to spare him this pain?
+
+Elsie's difficulties grew greater the more she pondered over them. It
+was past midnight when she closed the volume of thought and her eyes at
+the same moment.
+
+In the morning, Athelstan kissed her gravely.
+
+'Do you remember what you said last night, Elsie? You said that we could
+rest at peace because the thing was done.'
+
+'Well, Athelstan, the words could only have one meaning, could they? I
+mean, if you want me to be more explicit, that the thing is actually
+done. My dear brother, I know all about it now. I know who signed that
+first cheque--who sent the commissionaire to the Bank--who received the
+notes--who placed them in the safe--who wrote about the transfers--who
+received the letters and carried on the whole business. I can place my
+hand upon him to-day if necessary.'
+
+'Without doubt? With proofs, ample proofs?'
+
+'Without the least doubt--with a cloud of witnesses. My dear brother, do
+not doubt me. I have done it. Yet--for a reason--to spare one most
+deeply concerned--for the pity of it--if you knew--give me a few days--a
+week, perhaps, to find a way if I can. If I cannot, then the cruel truth
+must be told bluntly, whatever happens.'
+
+'Remember all the mischief the old villain has done.'
+
+'The old villain? Oh! you mean Checkley?'
+
+'Of course; whom should I mean?'
+
+'Nobody--nothing. Brother, if you bid me speak to-day, I will speak. No
+one has a better right to command. But if this--this person--were to die
+to-day, my proofs are so ample that there could be no doubt possible.
+Yes--even my mother--it is dreadful to say it--but she is so hard and so
+obstinate--even my mother would acknowledge that there is no doubt
+possible.'
+
+Athelstan stooped and kissed her. 'Order it exactly as you please, my
+child. If I have waited eight long years, I can wait another week.
+Another week. Then I shall at last be able to speak of my people at
+home. I shall go back to California with belongings like other men. I
+shall be able to make friends; I can even, if it comes in my way, make
+love, Elsie. Do you think you understand quite what this means to me?'
+
+He left her presently to go about his work.
+
+In the corner of the room stood her easel with the portrait, the fancy
+portrait, of Mr. Dering the Benevolent--Mr. Dering the Optimist--Mr.
+Dering as he might be with the same features and the least little change
+in their habitual setting.
+
+Elsie stood before this picture, looking at it curiously.
+
+'Yes,' she murmured, 'you are a dear, tender-hearted, kindly,
+benevolent, simple old Thing. You believe in human nature: you think
+that everybody is longing for the Kingdom of Heaven. You think that
+everybody would be comfortable in it: that everybody longs for honesty.
+Before I altered you and improved your face, you were Justice without
+mercy: you were Law without leniency: you were Experience which knows
+that all men are wicked by choice when they get the chance: you had no
+soft place anywhere: you held that Society exists only for the
+preservation of Property. Oh! you are so much more lovable now, if you
+would only think so--if you only knew. You believe in men and women:
+that is a wonderful advance--and you have done well to change your old
+name to your new name. I think I should like you always to be Edmund
+Gray. But how am I to tell you? How, in the name of wonder, am I to tell
+you that you are Edmund Gray? First of all, I must see you-- I must
+break the thing gently-- I must force you somehow to recollect, as soon
+as possible. I must make you somehow understand what has happened.'
+
+She had promised to meet Mr. Edmund Gray at his Chambers that evening at
+five. He showed his confidence in her by giving her a latch-key, so that
+she might let herself in if he happened not to be in the Chambers when
+she called, at five. She would try, then, to bring him back to himself.
+She pictured his amazement--his shame--at finding himself in strange
+rooms under another name, preaching wild doctrines. It would be too much
+for him. Better go to Mr. Dering, the real Mr. Dering, and try to move
+him in his own office, to recollect what had happened. Because, you see,
+Elsie, unacquainted with these obscure forms of brain disease, imagined
+that she might by artful question and suggestion clear that clouded
+memory, and show the lawyer his double figuring as a Socialist.
+
+She waited till the afternoon. She arrived at New Square about three,
+two hours before her engagement at Gray's Inn.
+
+Mr. Dering received her with his usual kindness. He was austerely
+benignant.
+
+'I tried to see you last night,' she said, untruthfully, because the
+words conveyed the impression that she had called upon him.
+
+'No--no. I was-- I suppose I was out. I went out----' His face clouded,
+and he stopped.
+
+'Yes--you were saying, Mr. Dering, that you went out.'
+
+'Last night was Sunday, wasn't it? Yes; I went out.--Where did I go?' He
+drummed the table with his fingers irritably. 'Where did I go?
+Where?--What does it matter?'
+
+'Nothing at all. Only it is strange that you should not remember.'
+
+'I told you once before, Elsie,' he said, 'I suffer--I labour--under
+curious fits of forgetfulness. Now, at this moment, I--it really is
+absurd--I cannot remember where I was last night. I am an old man. It is
+the privilege of age to forget yesterday, and to remember fifty years
+ago.'
+
+'I was talking last night to an old gentleman who said much the same. He
+has Chambers where he goes to write: he has a Lecture Hall--where he
+preaches to the people----'
+
+Mr. Dering looked at her in mild surprise. What did she mean? Elsie
+coloured.
+
+'Of course,' she said, 'this has nothing to do with you.'
+
+'How I spent the evening I know very well,' Mr. Dering went on. 'Yet I
+forget. That is the trouble with me. My housekeeper will not give me
+dinner on Sunday evening, and on that day I go to my Club. I get there
+about five or six: I read the magazines till seven. Sometimes I drop off
+to sleep--we old fellows will drop off, you know--about seven I have
+dinner. After dinner I take my coffee, and read or talk if there is any
+one I know. About nine I walk home. That has been my custom for many
+years. Therefore, that is how I spent the evening of yesterday.--But,
+you see, I cannot remember it. Breakfast I remember, and the Church
+service afterwards. Luncheon I remember: getting home at ten I remember.
+But the interval between I cannot remember.'
+
+'Do you forget other things? Do you remember Saturday afternoon, for
+instance?'
+
+'Yes--perfectly. I left the office about five. I walked straight
+home.--No--no--that isn't right. It was nearly eight when I got home. I
+remember. The dinner was spoiled.--No--I did not go straight home.'
+
+'Perhaps you stayed here till past seven?'
+
+'No--no. I remember looking at the clock as I put on my hat. It was
+half-past five when I went out-- Five. What did I do between half-past
+five o'clock and eight? I forget. You see, my trouble, Elsie--I forget.
+Perhaps I went to the Club: perhaps I strolled about: perhaps I came
+back here. There are three hours to account for--and I have forgotten
+them all.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+WILL HE REMEMBER?
+
+
+Should she tell him? She could not. The way must somehow be prepared.
+No--she could not tell him just so--in cold blood. How would he look if
+she were to begin: 'I have found out the mystery. You are Edmund Gray.
+During the hours that you cannot recall, you are playing the part of a
+Socialist teacher and leader: you are actively propagating the doctrines
+that you hold to be dangerous and misleading'? What would he say? What
+would he feel when he realised the truth?
+
+On the table lay a copy of the _Times_--a fortnight-old copy--open at
+the place where there was a certain letter from a certain Edmund Gray.
+Elsie pointed to it. Mr. Dering sighed. 'Again,' he said, 'they
+persecute me. Now it is a letter addressed to Edmund Gray, lying on my
+table: now it is the bill of a pernicious lecture by Edmund Gray: to-day
+it is this paper with the letter that appeared a week or two ago. Who
+brought it here? Checkley says he didn't. Who put it on my table?'
+
+Elsie made no reply. It was useless to test her former theory of the boy
+under the table.
+
+'As for the man who wrote this letter,' Mr. Dering went on, 'he bears
+the name of our forger and writes from the same address. Yet he is not
+the man. Of that I am convinced. This man is a fool because he believes
+in the honesty of mankind: he is a generous fool, because he believes
+that people would rather be good than bad. Nonsense! They would rather
+be stealing from each other's plates, like the monkeys, than dividing
+openly. He has what they call a good heart--that is, he is a soft
+creature--and he is full of pity for the poor. Now, in my young days, I
+was taught--what after-experience has only brought more home to
+me--that the poor are poor in consequence of their vices. We used to say
+to them: "Go away--practise thrift. Be sober--work hard. By exercising
+these virtues we rose out of your ranks. By continuing to exercise them
+we remain on these levels. Go away. There is no remedy for disease
+contracted by vice. Go away and suffer." That's what we said formerly.
+What they say now is: "Victims of greed! You are filled with every
+virtue possible to humanity. You are down-trodden by the Capitalist. You
+are oppressed. Make and produce for others to enjoy. We will change all
+this. We will put the fruits--the harvest--of your labour in your own
+hands, and you shall show the world your justice, your noble
+disinterestedness, your generosity, your love of the common weal."
+That's the new gospel, Elsie, and I prefer the old.'
+
+Strange that a man should at one time hold and preach with so much
+fervour and earnestness the very creed which at another time he
+denounced as fiercely!
+
+'This man, and such as he,' continued Mr. Dering, lifted out of his
+anxieties by that subject, 'would destroy Property in order to make the
+workman rich. Wonderful doctrine! He would advance the world by
+destroying the only true incentive and stimulant for work, invention,
+civilisation, association, and every good and useful thing. He would
+destroy Property. And then? Can he not see what would follow? Why, these
+people do not know the very alphabet of the thing. By Property they mean
+the possession by individuals of land or money. But that is only a part
+of Property. Take that away, and the individual remains. And he has
+got--what you cannot take away--the rest of his Property, by which he
+will speedily repair the temporary loss. Consider, child, if you can,
+what does a man possess? He has, I say, Property--all his own--which
+cannot be taken from him or shared with another--Property in his brain,
+his trade, his wit, his craft, his art, his skill, his invention, his
+enterprise, his quickness to grip an opportunity. Again, he has his wife
+and children--sometimes a very valuable Property: he has, besides, his
+memories, his knowledge, his experience, his thoughts, his hopes, his
+projects, and intentions: he has his past and he has his future: he has,
+or thinks he has, his inheritance in the Kingdom of Heaven. Take away
+all these things bit by bit, what is left? Nothing. Not even the shadow
+of a man. Not even a naked figure. This, Elsie, is Property. These
+things separate the individual from the mass, and each man from his
+neighbour. A shallow fanatic, like this Edmund Gray, thinks that wealth
+is the whole of Property. Why, I say, it is only a part of Property: it
+is the external and visible side of certain forms of Property. Take all
+the wealth away to-day--even if you make ten thousand laws, the same
+qualities--the same forms of Property--the same lack of those qualities
+will produce like results to-morrow.--Do you now understand, child, what
+is meant by Property? It is everything which makes humanity. Wealth is
+only the symbol or proof of society so organised that all these
+qualities--the whole Property of a man, can be exercised freely and
+without injustice.'
+
+'I see,' said Elsie, gazing with wonder undisguised. Was this last
+night's Prophet? Could the same brain hold two such diverse views'?
+
+'You are surprised, child. That is because you have never taken or
+understood this larger view of Property. It is new to you. Confess,
+however, that it lends sacredness to things which we are becoming
+accustomed to have derided. Believe me, it is not without reason that
+some of us venerate the laws which have been slowly, very slowly,
+framed: and the forms which have been slowly, very slowly, framed: as
+experience has taught us wisdom for the protection of man--working man,
+not loafing, lazy man. It is wise and right of us to maintain all those
+institutions which encourage the best among us to work and invent and
+distribute. By these forms alone is industry protected and enterprise
+encouraged. Then such as this Edmund Gray'--he laid his hand again upon
+the letter--'will tell you that Property--Property--causes certain
+crimes--ergo, Property must be destroyed. Everything desirable causes
+its own peculiar class of crime. Consider the universal passion of Love.
+It daily causes crimes innumerable. Yet no one has yet proposed the
+abolition of Love--eh?'
+
+'I believe not,' Elsie replied, smiling. 'I hope no one will--yet.'
+
+'No. But the desire for Property, which is equally universal--which is
+the most potent factor in the cause of Law and Order--they desire and
+propose to destroy. I have shown you that it is impossible. Let the
+companies pay no dividends, let all go to the working men: let the
+lands pay no rent: the houses no rent: let the merchants' capital yield
+no profit: to-morrow the clever man will be to the front again, using
+for his own purposes the dull and the stupid and the lazy. That is my
+opinion.--Forgive this sermon, Elsie. You started me on the subject. It
+is one on which I have felt very strongly for a long time. In fact, the
+more I think upon it the more I am convinced that the most important
+thing in any social system is the protection of the individual--personal
+liberty: freedom of contract: right to enjoy in safety what his ability,
+his enterprise, and his dexterity may gain for him.'
+
+Elsie made no reply for a moment. The conversation had taken an
+unexpected turn. The vehemence of the upholder of Property overwhelmed
+her as much as the earnestness of its destroyer. Besides, what chance
+has a girl of one-and-twenty on a subject of which she knows nothing
+with a man who has thought upon it for fifty years? Besides, she was
+thinking all the time of the other man. And now there was no doubt--none
+whatever--that Mr. Dering knew nothing of Mr. Edmund Gray--nothing at
+all. He knew nothing and suspected nothing of the truth. And which
+should she believe? The man who was filled with pity for the poor and
+saw nothing but their sufferings, or the man who was full of sympathy
+with the rich, and saw in the poor nothing but their vices? Are all men
+who work oppressed? Or are there no oppressed at all, but only some lazy
+and stupid and some clever?
+
+'Tell me more another time,' she said, with a sigh. 'Come back to the
+case--the robbery. Is anything discovered yet?'
+
+'I have heard nothing. George refuses to go on with the case out of some
+scruple because----'
+
+'Oh! I know the cause. Very cruel things have been said about him. Do
+you not intend to stand by your own partner, Mr. Dering?'
+
+'To stand by him? Why, what can I do?'
+
+'You know what has been said of him--what is said of him--why I have had
+to leave home----'
+
+'I know what is said, certainly. It matters nothing what is said. The
+only important thing is to find out--and that they cannot do.'
+
+'They want to connect Edmund Gray with the forgeries, and they are
+trying the wrong way. Checkley is not the connecting link--nor is
+George.'
+
+'You talk in riddles, child.'
+
+'Perhaps. Do you think, yourself, that George has had anything whatever
+to do with the business?'
+
+'If you put it so, I do not. If you ask me what I have a right to
+think--it is that everything is possible.'
+
+'That is what you said about Athelstan. Yet now his innocence is
+established.'
+
+'That is to say, his guilt is not proved. Find me the man who forged
+that cheque, and I will acknowledge that he is innocent. Until then, he
+is as guilty as the other man--Checkley--who was also named in
+connection with the matter. Mind, I say, I do not believe that my
+Partner could do this thing. I will tell him so. I have told him so. If
+it had to be done over again, I would ask him to become my partner. But
+all things are possible. My brother is hot upon it. Well--let him search
+as he pleases. In such a case the solution is always the simplest and
+the most unexpected. I told him only this morning--he had lunch with
+me--that he was on a wrong scent--but he is obstinate. Let him go on.'
+
+'Yes--let him divide a family--keep up bitterness between mother and
+son--make a lifelong separation between those who ought to love each
+other most---- Oh! it is shameful! It is shameful! And you make no
+effort--none at all--to stop it.'
+
+'What can I do? What can I say, more than I have said? If they would
+only not accuse each other--but find out something!'
+
+'Mr. Dering--forgive me--what I am going to say'--she began with jerks.
+'The honour of my brother--of my lover--are at stake.'
+
+'Say, child, what you please.'
+
+'I think that perhaps'--she did not dare to look at him--'if you could
+remember sometimes those dropped and forgotten evenings--those hours
+when you do not know what you have said and done--if you could only
+remember a little--we might find out more.'
+
+He watched her face blushing, and her eyes confused, and her voice
+stammering, and he saw that there was something behind--something that
+she hinted, but would not or could not express. He sat upright,
+suspicious and disquieted.
+
+'Tell me what you mean, child.'
+
+'I cannot--if you do not remember anything. You come late in the
+morning--sometimes two hours late. You think it is only ten o'clock when
+it is twelve. You do not know where you have been for the last two
+hours. Try to remember that. You were late on Saturday morning. Perhaps
+this morning. Where were you?'
+
+His face was quite white. He understood that something was
+going--soon--to happen.
+
+'I know not, Elsie--indeed--I cannot remember. Where was I?'
+
+'You leave here at five. You have ordered dinner, and your housekeeper
+tells me that you come home at ten or eleven. Where are you all that
+time?'
+
+'I am at the Club.'
+
+'Can you remember? Think--were you at the Club last night? George went
+there to find you, but you were not there--and you were not at home.
+Where were you?'
+
+He tried to speak--but he could not. He shook his head--he gasped twice.
+
+'You cannot remember? Oh! try--Mr. Dering--try--for the sake of
+everybody--to put an end to this miserable condition--try.'
+
+'I cannot remember,' he said again feebly.
+
+'Is it possible--just possible--that while you are away--during these
+intervals--you yourself may be actually--in the company--of this
+Socialist--this Edmund Gray?'
+
+'Elsie--what do you mean?'
+
+'I mean--can you not remember?'
+
+'You mean more, child! Do you know what you mean? If what you suggest is
+true, then I must be mad--mad. Do you mean it? Do you mean it? Do you
+understand what you say?'
+
+'Try--try to remember,' she replied. 'That is all I mean. My dear
+guardian, is there any one to whom I am more grateful than yourself? You
+have given me a fortune and my lover an income. Try--try to remember.'
+
+She left him without more words.
+
+He sat looking straight before him--the horror of the most awful thing
+that can befall a man upon him. Presently, he touched his bell, and his
+old clerk appeared.
+
+'Checkley,' he said, 'tell me the truth.'
+
+'I always do,' he replied surlily.
+
+'I have been suffering from fits of forgetfulness. Have you observed
+any impairing of the faculties? When a man's mental powers are decaying,
+he forgets things: he loses the power of work: his old skill leaves him:
+he cannot distinguish between good work and bad. He shows his mental
+decay, I believe, in physical ways--he shuffles as he walks; he stoops
+and shambles--and in his speech--he wanders and he repeats--and in his
+food and manner of eating. Have you observed any of these symptoms upon
+me, Checkley?'
+
+'Not one. You are as upright as a lance: you eat like five-and-twenty:
+your talk is as good and your work is as good as when you were
+forty.--Don't think such things. To be sure you do forget a bit. But not
+your work. You only forget sometimes what you did out of the office--as
+if that matters. Do you remember the case you tackled yesterday
+afternoon?'
+
+'Certainly.'
+
+'Do you tell me that any man--forty years younger than you--could have
+tackled that case more neatly? Garn! Go 'long!'
+
+Checkley went back to his office.
+
+'What did she mean by it, then?' Mr. Dering murmured. 'Who put her on to
+such a suspicion? What did she mean by it? Of course it's nonsense.' So
+reassuring himself, he yet remained disquieted. For he could not
+remember.
+
+At half-past five or so, Mr. Edmund Gray arrived at his Chambers. The
+outer door was closed, but he found his disciple waiting for him. She
+had been there an hour or more, she said. She was reading one of the
+books he had recommended to her. With the words of Mr. Dering in her
+ears, she read as if two voices were speaking to her--talking to each
+other across her.
+
+She laid down the book and rose to greet him. 'Master,' she said, 'I
+have come from Mr. Dering. He is your solicitor, you told me.'
+
+'Assuredly. He manages my affairs.'
+
+'It is curious--I asked him if he knew you--and he said that he knew
+nothing about you.'
+
+'That is curious, certainly. My solicitor for--for many years. He must
+have mistaken the name. Or--he grows old--perhaps he forgets people.'
+
+'Do you often see him?'
+
+'I saw him this morning. I took him my letter to the _Times_. He is
+narrow--very narrow, in his views. We argued the thing for a bit. But,
+really, one might as well argue with a stick as with Dering when
+Property is concerned. So he forgets, does he? Poor old chap! He
+forgets--well--we all grow old together!' He sighed. 'It is his time
+to-day and mine to-morrow.--My Scholar, let us talk.'
+
+The Scholar left her Master at seven. On her way out she ran against
+Checkley, who was prowling round the court. 'You!' he cried. 'You! Ah!
+I've caught you, have I? On Saturday afternoon I thought I see you going
+into No. 22. Now I've caught you coming out, have I?'
+
+'Checkley,' she said, 'if you are insolent, I shall have to speak to Mr.
+Dering;' and walked away.
+
+'There's another of 'em,' Checkley murmured, looking after her--'a
+hardened one, if ever there was. All for her lover and her brother! A
+pretty nest of 'em. And calls herself a lady!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+THE LESSON OF THE STREET
+
+
+'Child,' said the Master, 'it is time that you should take another
+lesson.'
+
+'I am ready. Let us begin.' She crossed her hands in her lap and looked
+up obedient.
+
+'Not a lesson this time from books. A practical lesson from men and
+women, boys and girls, children and infants in arms. Let us go forth and
+hear the teaching of the wrecks and the slaves. I will show you
+creatures who are men and women mutilated in body and mind--mutilated by
+the social order. Come, I will show you, not by words, but by sight, why
+Property must be destroyed.'
+
+It was seven o'clock, when Mr. Dering ought to have been thinking of his
+dinner, that Mr. Edmund Gray proposed this expedition. Now, since that
+other discourse on the sacredness of Property, a strange thing had
+fallen upon Elsie. Whenever her Master spoke and taught, she seemed to
+hear, following him, the other voice speaking and teaching exactly the
+opposite. Sometimes--this is absurd, but many true things are
+absurd--she seemed to hear both voices speaking together: yet she heard
+them distinctly and apart. Looking at Mr. Dering, she knew what he was
+saying: looking at Mr. Edmund Gray, she heard what he was saying. So
+that no sooner had these words been spoken, than, like a response in
+church, there arose the voice of Mr. Dering. And it said: 'Come. You
+shall see the wretched lives and the sufferings of those who are
+punished because their fathers or themselves have refused to work and
+save. Not to be able to get Property is the real curse of labour. It is
+no evil to work provided one chooses the work and creates for one's self
+Property. The curse is to have to work for starvation wages at what can
+never create property, if the worker should live for a thousand years.'
+
+Of the two voices she preferred the one which promised the abolition of
+poverty and crime. She was young: she was generous: any hope of a return
+of the Saturnian reign made her heart glow. Of the two old men--the mad
+man and the sane man--she loved the mad man. Who would not love such a
+man? Why, he knew how to make the whole world happy! Ever since the time
+of Adam we have been looking and calling out and praying for such a man.
+Every year the world runs after such a man. He promises, but he does not
+perform. The world tries his patent medicine, and is no better. Then,
+the year after, the world runs after another man.
+
+Elsie rose and followed the Master. It was always with a certain anxiety
+that she sat or talked with him. Always she dreaded lest, by some
+unlucky accident, he should awaken and be restored to himself suddenly
+and without warning--say in his Lecture Hall. How would he look? What
+should she say? 'See--in this place for many years past you have in
+course of madness preached the very doctrines which in hours of sanity
+you have most reprobated. These people around you are your disciples.
+You have taught them by reason and by illustration with vehemence and
+earnestness to regard the destruction of property as the one thing
+needful for the salvation of the world. What will you say now? Will you
+begin to teach the contrary? They will chase you out of the Hall for a
+madman. Will you go on with your present teaching? You will despise
+yourself for a madman.' Truly a difficult position. Habit, however, was
+too strong. There was little chance that Edmund Gray among his own
+people, and at work upon his own hobby, would become Edward Dering.
+
+They went out together. He led her--whither? It mattered not. North and
+South and East and West you may find everywhere the streets and houses
+of the very poor hidden away behind the streets of the working people
+and the well-to-do.
+
+The Master stopped at the entrance of one of those streets--it seemed to
+Elsie as if she was standing between two men both alike, with different
+eyes. At the corner was a public-house with swinging doors. It was
+filled with men talking, but not loudly. Now and then a woman went in or
+came out, but they were mostly men. It was a street long and narrow,
+squalid to the last degree, with small two-storied houses on either
+side. The bricks were grimy; the mortar was constantly falling out
+between them: the woodwork of doors and windows was insufferably grimy:
+many of the panes were broken in the windows. It was full of children:
+they swarmed: they ran about in the road, they danced on the pavement,
+they ran and jumped and laughed as if their lot was the happiest in the
+world and their future the brightest. Moreover, most of them, though
+their parents were steeped in poverty, looked well fed and even rosy.
+'All these children,' said Mr. Edmund Gray, 'will grow up without a
+trade: they will enter life with nothing but their hands and their legs
+and their time. That is the whole of their inheritance. They go to
+school, and they like school: but as for the things they learn, they
+will forget them, or they will have no use for them. Hewers of wood and
+drawers of water shall they be: they are condemned already. That is the
+system: we take thousands of children every year, and we condemn them to
+servitude--whatever genius may be lying among them. It is like throwing
+treasures into the sea, or burying the fruits of the earth. Waste!
+Waste! Yet, if the system is to be bolstered up, what help?'
+
+Said the other Voice: 'The world must have servants. These are our
+servants. If they are good at their work, they will rise and become
+upper servants. If they are good upper servants, they may rise higher.
+Their children can rise higher still, and their grandchildren may join
+us. Service is best for them. Good service, hard service, will keep them
+in health and out of temptation. To lament because they are servants is
+foolish and sentimental.'
+
+Standing in the doorways, sitting on the door-steps, talking together,
+were women--about four times as many women as there were houses. This
+was because there were as many families as rooms, and there were four
+rooms for every house. As they stood at the end of the street and looked
+down, Elsie observed that nearly every woman had a baby in her arms, and
+that there were a great many types or kinds of women. That which does
+not surprise one in a drawing-room, where every woman is expected to
+have her individual points, is noticed in a crowd, where, one thinks,
+the people should be like sheep--all alike.
+
+'A splendid place, this street, for such a student as you should be, my
+Scholar.' The Master looked up and down--he sniffed the air, which was
+stuffy, with peculiar satisfaction: he smiled upon the grubby houses.
+'You should come often; you should make the acquaintance of the people:
+you will find them so human, so desperately human, that you will
+presently understand that these women are your sisters. Change dresses
+with one of them: let your hair fall wild: take off your bonnet----'
+
+'Shall I then be quite like them?' asked Elsie. 'Like them, Master? Oh!
+not quite like them.'
+
+'Not quite like them,' he said. 'No; you could never talk like them.'
+
+He walked about among the people, who evidently knew him, because they
+made way for him, nodded to him, and pretended, such was their
+politeness, to pay no attention to the young lady who accompanied him.
+
+'Every one of them is a study,' he continued. 'I could preach to you on
+every one as a text. Here is my young friend Alice Parden, for
+instance'--he stopped before a pale girl of seventeen or so, tall and
+slender, but of drooping figure, who carried a baby in her arms. 'Look
+at her. Consider. Alice is foolish, like all the Alices of this street.
+Alice must needs marry her chap a year ago, when she was sixteen and he
+was eighteen. Alice should be still at her club in the evening and her
+work in the daytime. But she must marry, and she is a child mother.--Is
+he out of work still?' Alice nodded, and hugged her baby closer. Mr.
+Edmund Gray shook his head in admonition, but gave her a coin, and went
+on. 'Now look at this good woman'--he stopped before a door where an
+Amazon was leaning--a woman five feet eight in height, with brawny arms
+and broad shoulders and a fiery furnace for a face--a most terrible and
+fearful woman.--'How are you this evening, Mrs. Moss? And how is your
+husband?'
+
+Long is the arm of coincidence. Mrs. Moss was just beginning to repose
+after a row royal; she was slowly simmering and slowly calming. There
+had been a row royal, a dispute, an argument, a quarrel, and a fight
+with her husband. All four were only just concluded. All four had been
+conducted on the pavement, for the sake of coolness and air and space.
+The residents stood around: the controversy was sharp and animated: the
+lady bore signs of its vehemence in a bruise, rapidly blackening, over
+one eye, and abrasions on her knuckles. The husband had been conducted
+by his friends from the spot to the public-house at the corner, where he
+was at present pulling himself together, and forgetting the weight of
+his consort's fists, and solacing his spirit with strong drink.
+
+'How is my husband?' the lady repeated. 'Oh! I'll tell you. I'll tell
+you, Mr. Gray, how my husband is. Oh! how is he? Go, look for him in the
+public-house. You shall see how he is and what he looks like.' She
+descended two steps, still retaining the advantage of the lowest. Then,
+describing a semicircle with her right arm, she began an impassioned
+harangue. The residents fled, right and left, not knowing whether in her
+wrath she might not mistake the whole of them, collectively, for her
+husband. The men in the public-house hearing her voice, trembled, and
+looked apprehensively at the door. But Mr. Gray stood before her without
+fear. He knew her better than to run away. The lady respected his
+courage, and rejoiced in a sympathetic listener. Presently she ran down:
+she paused: she gasped: she caught at her heart: she choked: she wept.
+She sat down on the doorstep, this great strong woman, with the brawny
+arms and the fiery face, and she wept. The residents crept timidly back
+again and gathered round her, murmuring sympathy: the men in the
+public-house trembled again. Mr. Gray grasped her by the hand and
+murmured a few words of consolation; for indeed there were great wrongs,
+such as few wives even in this street expect, and undeniable
+provocations. Then he led his Scholar away.
+
+At the next house he entered, taking Elsie with him to a room at the
+back where a woman sat making garments. She was a middle-aged woman, and
+though very poorly dressed, not in rags: the room was neat except for
+the garments lying about. She looked up cheerfully--her eyes were
+bright, her face was fine--and smiled. 'You here, Mr. Gray?' she said.
+'Well, I was only thinking yesterday how long it is since you came to
+see me last. I mustn't stop working, but you can talk.'
+
+'This is a very special friend of mine,' said the Master. 'I have known
+her for ten years, ever since I began to visit the street. She is always
+cheerful: though she has to live on sweating work and sweating pay. She
+never complains. She lives like the sparrows, and eats about as much as
+a sparrow: she is always respectable. She goes to church on Sundays: she
+is always neat in her dress. Yet she must be always hungry.'
+
+'Ah!' said the woman, 'you'd wonder. Miss, if you knew how little a
+woman can live upon.'
+
+'Oh! but,' said Elsie, 'to have always to live on that little!'
+
+'She is the daughter of a man once thought well to do.'--'He was most
+respectable,' said the woman.--'He died, and left nothing but debts. The
+family were soon scattered, and--you see--this street contains some of
+those who have fallen low down as well as those who are born low down.
+It is Misfortune Lane as well as Poverty Lane. To the third and fourth
+generation, misfortune, when it begins--the reason of its beginning is
+the wickedness of one man--still persecutes and follows the family.'
+
+'Thank you, Miss,' said the woman. 'And if you will come again
+sometimes---- Oh! you needn't be afraid. No one would hurt a friend of
+Mr. Gray.' So they went out.
+
+On the next doorstep and the next and the next, there sat women old and
+young, but all of these had the same look and almost the same
+features--they were heavy-faced, dull-eyed, thick-lipped, unwashed, and
+unbrushed. 'These,' said the Master, 'are the women who know of nothing
+better than the life they lead here. They have no hope of rising: they
+would be unhappy out of this street. They bear children: they bring them
+up, and they die. It is womanhood at its lowest. They want warmth, food,
+and drink, and that is nearly all. They are the children and
+grandchildren of women like themselves, and they are the mothers of
+women like themselves. Savage lands have no such savagery as this, for
+the worst savages have some knowledge, and these women have none. They
+are mutilated by our system. We have deprived them of their souls. They
+are the products of our system. In a better order these people could not
+exist: they would not be allowed parents or birth. The boy would still
+be learning his trade, and the girl would be working at hers. That
+little woman who meets her troubles with so brave a heart has been
+sweated all her life--ever since her misfortunes began: she takes it as
+part of the thing they call life: she believes that it will be made up
+to her somehow in another world. I hope it will.'
+
+'All these people,' said the other Voice, 'are what they are because of
+the follies and the vices of themselves and their fathers. The
+boy-husband has no trade. Whose fault is that? The rickety boy and the
+rickety girl bring into the world a rickety baby. Whose fault is that?
+Let them grow worse instead of better until they learn by sharper
+suffering that vice and folly bring their punishment.'
+
+'You see the children,' continued the Master, 'and the mothers. You do
+not see any old men, because this sort mostly die before they reach the
+age of sixty. Those who are past work and yet continue to live go into
+the House. The girls you do not see, because those who are not forced to
+work all the evening as well as all the day are out walking with their
+sweethearts. Nor the men, because they are mostly in the public-house.
+They are all hand-to-mouth working men: they live by the job when they
+can get any. When they are out of work, they live upon each other. We
+hide this kind of thing away in back streets like this, and we think it
+isn't dangerous. But it is. Formerly, the wreckage huddled together bred
+plagues and pestilences, which carried off rich and poor with equal
+hand, and so revenged itself. In other ways, the wreckage revenges
+itself still.'
+
+'This kind of people,' said the other Voice, 'may be dangerous. We have
+a Police on purpose to meet the danger. They would be quite as dangerous
+if you were to give them free dinners and house them without rent. The
+class represents the untameable element. They are always a danger. To
+cry over them is silly and useless.'
+
+They walked down the street. Everybody knew Mr. Edmund Gray. He had a
+word for all. It was evident that he had been a visitor in the street
+for a long time: he had the air of a proprietor: he entered the houses
+and opened doors and sat down and talked, his disciple standing beside
+him and looking on. He asked questions and gave advice--not of a
+subversive Socialistic kind, but sound advice, recognising the order
+that is, not the order that should be.
+
+All the rooms in this street were tenanted, mostly a family to each. In
+many of them work was going on still, though it was already eight
+o'clock. Sometimes it would be a woman sitting alone in her room like a
+prisoner in a cell, stitching for dear life: sometimes three or four
+women or girls sitting all together, stitching for dear life: sometimes
+a whole family, little children and all, making matches, making canvas
+bags, making paper bags, making card-boxes, all making--making--making
+for dear life. And the fingers did not stop and the eyes were not
+lifted, though the visitors opened the door and came in and asked
+questions, to which one replied in the name of all the rest.
+
+It is an old, old story--everybody knows the slum: people go to gaze
+upon it; it is one of the chief sights of Victorian London, just as a
+hundred and fifty years ago it was one of the sights to see the women
+flogged at Bridewell. Not such a very great advance in civilisation,
+perhaps, after all.
+
+'It is a hive--the place is swarming with life,' said the girl, who had
+never before seen such a street.
+
+'Life means Humanity. All these people are so like you, my Scholar, that
+you would be surprised. You would not be like them if you were dressed
+in these things, but they are like you. They want the same things as
+you--they have the same desires--they suffer the same pains. What makes
+your happiness? Food--warmth, sufficiency, not too much work. These are
+the elements for you as well as for them. In my system they will have
+all these--and then perhaps they will build up, as you have done, an
+edifice of Knowledge, Art, and Sweet Thoughts. But they are all like
+you. And most in one thing. For all women of all classes, there is one
+thing needful. These girls, like you, want love. They all want love. Oh,
+child! they are so like you, so very like you--these poor women of the
+lowest class. So very like their proud sisters.' He paused for a moment.
+Elsie made no reply. 'You see,' he continued, 'they are so hard at work
+that they cannot even lift their eyes to look at you--not even at you,
+though they seldom see a girl among them so lovely and so well dressed.
+One would have thought--but there is the Whip that drives--that
+dreadful Whip--it hangs over them and drives them all day long without
+rest or pause. Their work pays their rent and keeps them alive. It just
+keeps them alive, and that is all. No more. It must be hard to work all
+day long for another person--if you come to think of it. Happily, they
+do not think. And all this grinding poverty--this terrible work, that
+one family may be able to live in a great house and to do nothing.'
+
+'They are working,' said the other Voice, 'because one man has had the
+wit to create a market for their work. His thrift, his enterprise, his
+clearness of sight, have made it possible for these girls to find the
+work that keeps them. If they would have the sense not to marry
+recklessly, there would be fewer working girls, and wages would go up.
+If their employer raised their wages only a penny a day, he would
+benefit them but little and would ruin himself. They must learn--if they
+can--the lesson of forethought by their own sufferings. No one can help
+them.'
+
+As Mr. Edmund Gray walked into the houses and out again Elsie went with
+him, or she waited outside while he went in. Sometimes she heard the
+chink of coin: sometimes she heard words of thanks. The Socialist,
+whatever he taught, practised the elementary form of charity possible
+only for those who have money. Elsie remarked this little point, but
+said nothing.
+
+'What you see here,' said the Master, 'is the lowest class of all--if
+one ever gets to the lowest level. For my own part, I have seen men and
+women so wretched that you would have called them _miserrimi_--of all
+created beings the most wretched. Yet have I afterwards found others
+more wretched still. In this street are those who make the lowest
+things: those who can make nothing, and have no trade, and live on odd
+jobs: and those who can neither make nor work, but thieve and lie
+about.'
+
+'I see all that; but, dear Master, what will your new order do for such
+people? Will it make those who will not work industrious?'
+
+'It will give every producer the fruits of his own labour: it will teach
+a trade to every man, and find men work. And those who cannot work, it
+will kill, or lock up until they die. They shall have no children.
+Perhaps it will kill them all. It might be better. We will have no human
+failures in our midst. That street is full of lessons, all calling
+aloud for the destruction of Property.'
+
+Then the other Voice spoke: 'The presence of the human failure is a
+lesson always before us--a warning and a lesson to rich and poor alike.
+As he is, so all may be. None are so rich but they may be brought to
+poverty: none so poor but they may be poorer. So far from hiding away
+the wreckage, it is always in our sight. It prowls about the streets: we
+can never escape it. And it fills all hearts with terror: it spurs all
+men to industry and invention and perseverance. The human failure
+inspires a never-ending hymn in praise of Property.'
+
+Elsie's guide stopped to greet a woman whom he knew. She had the usual
+baby on her arm. She was a sad-faced woman, with some refinement in her
+looks: she was wretchedly dressed, thin, pale, and dejected.
+
+'The same story?'
+
+'Yes, sir. It's always the same,' she sighed hopelessly. 'But he would
+work if he could get anything to do. Nobody will employ a man who's had
+a misfortune. It's hard--because such a thing may happen to anybody.
+It's like measles, my husband says. He can't get drunk because there's
+no money. That's my only comfort.'
+
+He gave her some money, and she passed on her way.
+
+'Her husband was a clerk,' Mr. Gray explained, 'who took to drink and
+robbed his employer. His father was a barrister, who died young. His
+grandfather was a well-known--almost a great lawyer. I know the whole
+family history. I learned it----' He stopped for a moment, as if his
+memory suddenly failed him--'somehow--a long time ago. It is a story
+which shows how our sins and follies fall upon our own children. This
+family sprang from the gutter. First, the working man: then his son the
+shopkeeper: then his grandson, who became a great lawyer: then his
+great-grandson, not so great a lawyer. He, you see, is the first of the
+family who begins life as a gentleman and is brought up among gentlemen:
+he inherited money: he had a practice: he married in the class called
+gentle, and had children. But he lost all his money, and in despair he
+killed himself. Cousinly affection is a cold thing at best. It helped
+the widow to a pittance, and sent her boys to a cheap school. At fifteen
+they had to take whatever employment they could get. Observe that this
+branch of the family was now going downhill very fast. The future of a
+boy who has been taught no trade and has entered no profession is black
+indeed. One of the boys went out to New Zealand, which has little to
+give a friendless boy: another enlisted, served three years, and has
+never got any work since. I believe he carries boards about the street.
+Another became a tenth-rate actor, and now starves on fifteen shillings
+a week, paid irregularly. Another--the youngest--was put into a
+merchant's office. He rose to a hundred and twenty pounds a year: he
+married a girl of the clerkly class--that woman you saw: he took to
+drink: he embezzled his master's money: he went to prison: he is now
+hopelessly ruined. He cannot get any lower in the social scale. What
+will his children do? They have no friends. They will grow up like the
+children around them: they will join the hopeless casuals: they will be
+hewers of wood. Property, my child, Property--has done this. He stole.
+In our society nobody will be tempted to steal. He drank--with us he
+would be kept judiciously under control until he could be trusted again.
+That would be the care of the State. He is another victim of Property.
+When his grandfather was framing Acts of Parliament for the protection
+of Property, he did not dream that he was making another engine for the
+oppression of his grandchildren.'
+
+Said the other Voice: 'We rise by our virtues. We sink by our vices. Let
+these people suffer. Their sufferings should make the rest of us wiser.
+Teach the children to rise again as their great-grandfather rose. Do not
+contend against the great Law which metes out suffering in return for
+vice.'
+
+'Those,' continued the Socialist Professor, 'who do most to make a few
+men rich are the real enemies of what they suppose themselves to be
+defending. Given a thousand women sweated for one man, and there
+presently arises indignation either among the women or among the
+bystanders. From indignation we get revolution, because the employer
+never gives way. He cannot. He would lose, if he did, his wealth, which
+is his Heaven. If you divide the thousand women into companies of ten,
+each company under its own sweater, and all the sweaters under other
+sweaters, you make a hierarchy of sweaters, culminating in one at the
+top. That was the old state of things. The man at the top was a Chief,
+a Patriarch: he knew his people: he sweated them, but kindly: he tossed
+them crumbs: he looked after the sick and the old. Now all this is
+changing. The old family tie--such as it was--is dissolved. The man at
+the top has disappeared: a Board of Directors has taken his place: there
+is nothing left but the Board and its employees. The men who work are no
+longer interested in the business of the firm, except so far as their
+pay is concerned. Their pay will go up and the dividends will go down.
+And with every increase of wages so much Property is destroyed. Let
+every thing--everything--be turned into Companies to help the
+destruction of Property.'
+
+Said the other Voice: 'Property is strengthened by being diffused.
+Companies organise labour: they give capital its proper power: they are
+not easily intimidated: they interest all who can save anything. Let us
+turn into Companies every industrial and distributive business in the
+country.'
+
+'All times of change,' the Master went on, 'are times of interest. We
+are living at a time when great changes are impending--the greatest
+changes possible. Before great changes there is always a period of
+unconscious preparation. The minds of people are being trained. Without
+any perception of the fact, old ideas are dying out and new ones are
+coming into existence. When the Revolution actually arrives, everybody
+is ready for it and nobody is surprised. It was so with the Reformation.
+For a hundred years and more the idea of the Great Revolt had been
+slowly growing in men's minds. When it came at last, there was no
+surprise and there were few regrets. For a hundred years and more the
+ideas of the French Revolution had been talked about by philosophers:
+these ideas sank down among the people. Nobody was surprised, not even
+the nobles themselves, when the end came. So with our Revolution. It is
+coming--it is coming--its ideas are no longer timidly advanced--here and
+there--by a fanatic here or a philosopher there: they are lying in the
+hearts of the people ready to spur them into action: they are helping on
+the cause by successive steps, every one of which means nothing less
+than the abolition of Property. These things are new to you, child. You
+were only born yesterday or the day before. I was born a hundred years
+ago or thereabouts. Consider again'--he leaned against a lamp-post for
+greater ease, and discoursed as one addressing an audience--'Consider, I
+say, this great question of Companies and their results. Formerly, one
+man made things which he took to market--sold or exchanged, and went
+home again. He, by himself, did everything. Then one man made and
+another man sold. The next improvement was for twenty men to work, for
+one to receive and to collect their work, and for another to sell it. In
+this way the twenty remained poor, and the two became rich. So they went
+on, and trade flourished, and the twenty producers more and more fell
+into the power of the two, who were now very rich and strong. Now the
+merchants are forming themselves into companies, and the companies are
+amalgamating with each other, and the small people may contemplate ruin.
+For these--now merchants, shopkeepers, manufacturers, workmen--there
+will be nothing but service in the companies; no possibility of
+acquiring Property, nothing but service all their lives. Now do you see
+how that helps the cause? They will become accustomed to work, but not
+for themselves: they will grow accustomed to work for a bare living and
+no more: they won't like either: but they will ask why the second should
+go with the first: the two great obstacles to Socialism will be removed.
+Then--either the step I spoke of just now--the abolition of the
+dividends--or, which is just as likely, a revolution, when the servants
+of the companies shall make the State take over all and work them for
+the good of all. Some there are who think that the workman will have
+hope and power for union crushed out of him. I think not; but if so--woe
+to the rich! The Jacquerie and the French Revolution will be spoken of
+as mild ebullitions of popular feeling compared with what will happen
+then. But I think not. I do not believe that the working man will sink
+again. He has got up so far. But he needs must climb higher.
+
+'You think it would be impossible'--by this time a small crowd had got
+round them, but the speaker still addressed his disciple as if no one
+else at all was listening--'for the State to take over the great
+producing and distributing companies. But it has been done already. The
+State has the Post and the Telegraph Services. They will deal with
+railways, steamers, coaches, cabs, omnibuses, trams, canals, water, gas,
+electric light, breweries, bakeries, factories, shops, just as they have
+dealt with these two. The State can take it all. The State will take the
+management of all. But, you say, the shares of the company will become
+Funds. They will, and the Funds will pay interest--but the interest
+will become rapidly lower and lower, so that what was once five per
+cent. is now but two and a half, and before long shall be two--one and a
+half--one--and nothing at all. There will be no cry of spoliation,
+because the holders of stock will be forced gradually into looking more
+and more to their own efforts, and because widows and sick people and
+old people, to whom the stocks were once so useful, will be all provided
+for by the State as a matter of right, and without any of the old
+humiliation of pauperdom. Pauper! Oh, heavenly word! Child, in the world
+of the future--the world which you will help to mould, we shall all be
+paupers,--every one.'
+
+He spoke with fine enthusiasm, his face lit up, his eyes bright. The
+girl was almost carried away, until the other Voice began coldly and
+judicially:
+
+'Nothing is so good for man as to be ruled and kept in discipline,
+service, and subjection. It is a foolish and a mischievous dream which
+supposes all men eager for advance. The mass of mankind asks for no
+advancement. It loves nothing and desires nothing but the gratification
+of the animal. Give it plenty of animalism and it is satisfied. That
+condition of society which keeps the mass down and provides for the rise
+of the ambitious few is the only condition which is reasonable and
+stable. Base your social order on the inertness of the mass. Make the
+workman do a good day's work: pay him enough, so that he shall have some
+of the comforts he desires: educate the clever boy and make him foreman,
+headman, manager, or artist, journalist, dramatist, novelist. Give him
+the taste for wealth. Let him have some. Then he, too, will be ready to
+fight if necessary in the army of order.'
+
+While the other Voice was speaking, there came slouching around the
+corner into the street where he held the fifth--perhaps the tenth part
+of a room, a really excellent specimen of the common or London thief,
+the habitual criminal. He was a young man--the habitual criminal is
+generally young, because in middle and elderly life he is doing long
+sentences--he had a furtive look, such as that with which the jackal
+sallies forth on nocturnal adventures: he had a short slight figure, a
+stooping and slouching gait, and narrow shoulders. His eyes were bright,
+but too close together: his mouth was too large and his jowl too heavy:
+his face was pale, his hair was still short, though growing rapidly: his
+hands were pendulous: his round hat was too big for his little head: he
+wore a long loose overcoat. His face, his figure, his look proclaimed
+aloud what he was.
+
+He stopped at the corner and looked at the little crowd. Everybody, for
+different reasons, is attracted by a crowd. Professionals sometimes find
+in crowds golden opportunities. This crowd, however, was already
+dispersing. The speaker had stopped. Perhaps they had heard other and
+more fervid orators on the Socialist side. Perhaps they were not in the
+least interested in the subject. You see, it is very difficult to get
+the hand-to-mouth class interested in anything except those two organs.
+
+'This street,' said the Master, observing him with professional
+interest, 'is full--really full--of wealth for the observer. Here is a
+case now--an instructive though a common case.' The fellow was turning
+away disappointed, perhaps, at the melting of the crowd and any little
+hope he might have based upon their pockets. 'My friend'--he heard
+himself called, and looked round suspiciously--'you would like, perhaps,
+to earn a shilling honestly, for once.'
+
+He turned slowly: at the sight of the coin held up before him, his sharp
+eyes darted right and left to see what chance there might be of a grab
+and a bolt. Apparently, he decided against this method of earning the
+shilling. 'What for?' he asked.
+
+'By answering a few questions. Where were you born?'
+
+'I dunno.'
+
+'Where were you brought up? Here?--In this street? Very well. You went
+to school with the other children: you were taught certain subjects up
+to a certain standard. What trade were you taught?'
+
+'I wasn't taught no trade.'
+
+'Your father was, I believe, a thief?'--The lad nodded--'And your
+mother, too?'--He nodded again, and grinned.--'And you yourself and your
+brothers and sisters are all in the same line, I suppose?'--He nodded
+and grinned again.--'Here is your shilling.' The fellow took it, and
+shambled away.
+
+'Father--mother--the whole family, live by stealing. Where there is no
+Property there can be no theft. In our world, such a creature would be
+impossible. He could not be born: such parents as his could not exist
+with us: he could not be developed: there would be no surroundings that
+would make such a development possible. He would be what, I believe, men
+of science call a Sport: he would be a deformity. We should put him in a
+hospital and keep him there until he died.'
+
+'In that world,' said the other Voice, 'there would be deformities of
+even a worse kind than this--the deformities of hypocrisy and shams. By
+a thousand shifts and lies and dishonesties the work of the world would
+be shifted on the shoulders of the weak. The strong man has always used
+his strength to make the weak man work for him, and he always will. The
+destruction of Property would be followed by the birth of Property on
+the very self-same day. There is the power of creation--of
+invention--which is also a kind of Property. Laws cannot destroy that
+power. Laws cannot make men industrious. Laws cannot make the strong man
+work for the weak. Laws cannot prevent the clever man from taking
+advantage of the stupid man. When all the failures--all the
+deformities--have been killed off, the able man will still prey upon the
+dull-witted. Better let the poor wretch live out his miserable life,
+driven from prison to prison, an example for all the world to see.'
+
+It was at this point that Elsie discovered the loss of her purse. Her
+pocket had been picked by one of the intelligent listeners in the crowd.
+She cried out on finding what had happened, in the unphilosophic
+surprise and indignation with which this quite common accident is always
+received.
+
+'Child,' said the Master, 'when there is no longer any Property, money
+will vanish: there will be no purses; even the pocket will disappear,
+because there will no longer be any use for a pocket.--Did the purse
+contain much? Suppose you had nothing to lose and nothing to gain. Think
+of the lightness of heart, the sunshine on all faces, which would
+follow. I fear you are rich, child. I have observed little signs about
+you which denote riches. Your gloves are neat and good; your dress seems
+costly. Better far if you had nothing.'
+
+'Master, if I were like that girl on the other side, would you like me
+better? Could I be more useful to the cause if I dressed like her?'
+
+The girl was of the common type--they really do seem, at first, all
+alike--who had on an ulster and a hat with a feather and broken boots.
+
+'If I were like her,' Elsie went on, 'I should be ignorant--and obliged
+to give the whole day to work, so that I should be useless to you--and
+my manners would be rough and my language coarse. It is because I am not
+poor that I am what I am. The day for poverty is not come yet, dear
+Master.'
+
+'In the future, dear child, there shall be no poverty and no riches. To
+have nothing will be the common lot. To have all will be the common
+inheritance. Oh! there will be differences: men shall be as unlike then
+as now: we shall not all desire the same things. You and such as you
+will desire Art of every kind. You shall have what you desire. In our
+world, as in this, like will to like. You shall have the use for
+yourselves of pictures, of musical instruments, of everything that you
+want. The rest of the world will not want these things. If they do, more
+can be made. You shall have dainty food--the rest of the world will
+always like coarse and common fare. Think not that we shall level up or
+level down. All will be left to rise or to sink. Only they shall not
+starve, they shall not thieve, they shall not be sweated. Oh! I know
+they paint our society as attempts to make all equal. And they think
+that we expect men no longer to desire the good things in the world.
+They will desire them--they will hunger after them--but there will be
+enough for all. The man who is contented with a dinner of herbs may go
+to a Carthusian convent, which is his place, for we shall have no place
+for him in a world which recognises all good gifts and assigns to every
+man his share.'
+
+Then spoke the other Voice, but sadly: 'Dreams! Dreams! There are not
+enough of the good things to go round--good things would become less
+instead of more. Without the spur there is no work. Without the desire
+of creating Property, all that is worth anything in life will
+perish--all but the things that are lowest and the meanest and the
+commonest. Men will not work unless they must. By necessity alone can
+the finest work be ordered and executed. As men have been, so will men
+always be. The thing that hath been, that shall be again.'
+
+'You have learned some of the lessons of Poverty Lane, Scholar,' said
+the Master.--'Let us now go home.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+'I KNOW THE MAN'
+
+
+'Another evening of mystery, Elsie?' said Athelstan.
+
+'Yes. Another, and perhaps another. But we are getting to an end. I
+shall be able to tell you all to-day or to-morrow. The thing is becoming
+too great for me alone.'
+
+'You shall tell us when you please. Meantime, nothing new has been found
+out, I believe. Checkley still glares, George tells me. But the opinion
+of the clerks seems on the whole more favourable, he believes, than it
+was. Of that, however, he is not perhaps a good judge.'
+
+'They shall all be turned out,' cried Elsie. 'How dare they so much as
+to discuss----'
+
+'My sister, it is a very remarkable thing, and a thing little
+understood, but it is a true thing. People, people--clerks and _le
+Service_ generally--are distinctly a branch of the great human tribe.
+They are anthropoid. Therefore, they are curious and prying and
+suspicious. They have our own faults, my dear.'
+
+All day Elsie felt drawn as with ropes to Mr. Dering's office. Was it
+possible that after that long evening among the lessons of Poverty Lane
+he should remember nothing? How was she to get at him--how was she to
+make him understand or believe what he had done? Could she make the sane
+man remember the actions and words of the insane man? Could she make the
+insane man do something which would absolutely identify him with the
+sane man? She could always array her witnesses: but she wanted more: she
+wanted to bring Mr. Dering himself to understand that he was Mr. Edmund
+Gray.
+
+She made an excuse for calling upon him. It was in the afternoon, about
+four, that she called. She found him looking aged, his face lined, his
+cheek pale, his eyes anxious.
+
+'This business worries me,' he said. 'Day and night it is with me. I am
+persecuted and haunted with this Edmund Gray. His tracts are put into my
+pockets; his papers into my safe: he laughs at me: he defies me to find
+him. And they do nothing. They only accuse each other. They find
+nothing.'
+
+'Patience,' said Elsie softly. 'Only a few days--a day or
+two--then--with your help--we will unravel all this trouble. You shall
+lose nothing.'
+
+'Shall I escape this mocking devil--this Edmund Gray?'
+
+'I cannot promise. Perhaps.--Now, my dear guardian, I am to be married
+next Wednesday. I want you to be present at my wedding.'
+
+'Why not?'
+
+'Because things have been said about George: and because your presence
+will effectually prove that you do not believe them.'
+
+'Oh! Believe them? I believe nothing. It is, however, my experience that
+there is no act, however base, that any man may not be tempted to do.'
+
+'Happily, it is my experience,' said the girl of twenty-one, 'that there
+is no act of baseness, however small, that certain men could possibly
+commit. You will come to my wedding, then. Athelstan will give me away.'
+
+'Athelstan? Yes; I remember. We found those notes, didn't we? I wonder
+who put them into the safe? Athelstan! Yes. He has been living in low
+company, I heard--Camberwell.--Rags and tatters.'
+
+'Oh!' Elsie stamped impatiently. 'You will believe anything--anything,
+and you a lawyer! Athelstan is in the service of a great American
+journal.--Rags and tatters!'
+
+'American? Oh! yes.' Mr. Dering sat up and looked interested. 'Why, of
+course. How could I forget it? Had it been yesterday evening, I should
+have forgot. But it is four years ago. He wrote to me from somewhere in
+America. Where was it? I've got the letter. It is in the safe. Bring me
+the bottom right-hand drawer. It is there, I know.' He took the drawer
+which Elsie brought him, and turned over the papers. 'Here it is among
+the papers of that forgery. Here is the letter.' He gave it to Elsie.
+'Read it. He writes from America, you see. He was in the States four
+years ago--and--and----What is it?'
+
+'Oh!' cried Elsie, suddenly springing from her chair--'Oh! Do you know
+what you have given me? Oh! do you know what you have told me? It is the
+secret--the secret--of my fortune. Oh! Athelstan gave it to
+me--Athelstan--my brother!'
+
+Mr. Dering took the letter from her and glanced at the contents. 'I
+ought not to have shown you the letter,' he said. 'I have violated
+confidence. I forgot. I was thinking of the trouble--I forgot. I forget
+everything now--the things of yesterday as well as the things of to-day.
+Yes; it is true, child: your little fortune came to you from your
+brother. But it was a secret that he alone had the right to reveal.'
+
+'And now I know it-- I know it. Oh! what shall I say to him?' The tears
+came in her eyes. 'He gave me all he had--all he had--because--oh! for
+such a simple thing--because I would not believe him to be a villain.
+Oh! my brother--my poor brother! He went back into poverty again. He
+gave me all because--oh! for such a little thing!--Mr. Dering!' She
+turned almost fiercely upon him. 'After such a letter, _could_ you
+believe that man to be a villain? Could you? Tell me! After such a deed
+and such a letter!'
+
+'I believe nothing. My experience, however, tells me that any man,
+whoever he is, may be led to commit----'
+
+'NO! I won't have it said again.--Now, listen, Mr. Dering. These
+suspicions must cease. There must be an end. Athelstan returned six
+weeks ago--or thereabouts. That can be proved. Before that time, he was
+working in San Francisco on the journal. That can be proved. While these
+forgeries, with which he is now so freely charged, were carried on here,
+he was abroad. I don't ask you to believe or to disbelieve or to bring
+up your experience--oh! such experience--one would think you had been a
+police magistrate all your life.'
+
+'No, Elsie.' Mr. Dering smiled grimly. 'There was no need to sit upon
+the bench; the police magistrate does not hear so much as the family
+solicitor. My dear, prove your brother's innocence by finding out who
+did the thing. That is, after all, the only thing. It matters nothing
+what I believe--he is not proved innocent--all the world may be
+suspected of it--until the criminal is found. Remove the suspicions
+which have gathered about your lover by finding the criminal. There is
+no other way.'
+
+'Very well, then. I will find the criminal, since no one else can.'
+
+Mr. Dering went on without heeding her words.
+
+'They want to get out a warrant against Edmund Gray. I think, for my own
+part, that the man Edmund Gray has nothing to do with the business. He
+is said to be an elderly man and a respectable man--a gentleman--who has
+held his Chambers for ten years.'
+
+'They need not worry about a warrant,' Elsie replied. 'Tell your
+brother, Mr. Dering, that it will be perfectly useless. Meantime--I
+doubt if it is any good asking you--but--if we want your help, will you
+give me all the help you can?'
+
+'Assuredly. All the help I can. Why not? I am the principal person
+concerned.'
+
+'You are, indeed,' said Elsie gravely--'the principal person concerned.
+Very well, Mr. Dering--now I will tell you more. I know the--the
+criminal. I can put my hand upon him at any moment. It is one man who
+has done the whole, beginning with the cheque for which Athelstan was
+suspected--one man alone.'
+
+'Why, child, what can you know about it? What can you do?'
+
+'You were never in love, Mr. Dering--else you would understand that a
+girl will do a great deal--oh! a great deal more than you would
+think--for her lover. It is not much to think for him and to watch for
+him--and for her brother--the brother who has stripped himself of
+everything to give his sister!' She was fain to pause, for the tears
+which rose again and choked her voice.
+
+'But, Elsie--what does this mean? How can you know what no one else has
+been able to find out?'
+
+'That is my affair, Mr. Dering. Perhaps I dreamed it.'
+
+'Do you mean that you will get back all the papers--all the
+transfers--the dividends that have been diverted--everything?'
+
+'Everything is safe. Everything shall be restored.--My dear guardian,
+it is a long and a sad story. I cannot tell you now. Presently,
+perhaps. Or to-morrow. I do not know how I shall be able to tell
+you. But for your property, rest easy. Everything will come back to
+you--everything--except that which cannot be stored in the vaults of the
+Bank.'
+
+The last words he heard not, or understood not.
+
+'I shall get back everything!' The eyes of the Individualist lit up and
+his pale cheek glowed--old age has still some pleasures. 'It is not
+until one loses Property that one finds out how precious it has become.
+Elsie, you remember what I told you, a day or two ago. Ah! I don't
+forget quite everything--a man is not the shivering naked soul only, but
+the complete figure, equipped and clothed, armed and decorated, bearing
+with him his skill, his wit, his ingenuity, his learning, his past, and
+his present, his memories and his rejoicings, his sorrows and his
+trials, his successes and his failures, and his Property--yes--his
+Property. Take away from him any of these things, and he is mutilated:
+he is not the perfect soul. Why, you tell me that my Property is coming
+back-- I awake again. I feel stronger already; the shadows are flying
+before me: even the terror of that strange forgetfulness recedes: and
+the haunting of Edmund Gray. I can bear all, if I get my Property back
+again. As for this forger--this miscreant--this criminal--you will hale
+him before the judge------'
+
+'Yes--yes. We will see about the miscreant afterwards. The first thing
+is to find the man and recover your Property, and to dispel the
+suspicions resting on innocent persons. If I do the former, you must aid
+me in the latter.'
+
+'Assuredly. I shall not shrink from that duty.'
+
+'Very well.--Now tell me about yourself. Sometimes it does good to talk
+about our own troubles. Tell me more about these forgetful fits. Do they
+trouble you still?' Her eyes and her voice were soft and winning. One
+must be of granite to resist such a voice and such eyes.
+
+'My dear'--Mr. Dering softened. 'You are good to interest yourself in an
+old man's ailments. It is Anno Domini that is the matter with me. The
+forgetful fits are only symptoms--and the disease is incurable. Ask the
+oak why the leaves are yellow.--It is the hand of winter. That is my
+complaint. First the hand of winter, then the hand of Death. Meantime,
+the voice of the grasshopper sings loud and shrill.' In presence of the
+simple things of age and death, even a hard old lawyer grows poetic.
+
+'Tell me the symptoms, then. Do you still forget things?'
+
+'Constantly. More and more. I forget everything.'
+
+'Where were you yesterday evening, for instance?'
+
+'I don't know. I cannot remember. I have left off even trying to
+remember. At one time I racked my brain for hours, to find out, and
+failed. Now I remember nothing. I never know when this forgetfulness may
+fall upon me. At any hour.--For instance--you ask me about yesterday
+evening. I ordered dinner at home. My housekeeper this morning reminded
+me that I did not get home last night till eleven. Where was I? Where
+did I spend the evening?'
+
+'At the Club?'
+
+'No-- I took a cab this morning and drove there under pretence of asking
+for letters. I asked if I was there last night. The hall porter stared.
+But I was not there. I thought that I might have fallen asleep there. I
+have done so before. Checkley tells me that I went away before him.
+Where was I?-- Child!'--he leaned forward and whispered, with white
+cheeks--'I have read of men going about with disordered brains doing
+what they afterwards forget. Am I one of these unfortunates? Do I go
+about with my wits wandering? Oh! horrible! I picture to myself an old
+man--such as myself--of unblemished reputation and blameless
+life--wandering about the streets demented--without conscience--without
+dignity--without self-respect--committing follies--things
+disgraceful--even things which bring men before the law----' He
+shuddered. He turned pale.
+
+'No--no,' murmured Elsie. 'You could not. You could never----'
+
+'Such things are on record. They have happened. They may happen again. I
+have read of such cases. There was a man once--he was like myself--a
+Solicitor--who would go out and do things, not knowing what he did. They
+found him out at last doing something so incredibly foolish that there
+was but one explanation. In another man and a younger man it would have
+been worse than foolish, it would have been criminal. Then they gave him
+a companion, and he discovered what he had done. The shame and the shock
+of it killed him. I have thought of that man of late. Good Heavens!
+Think, if you can, of any worse disaster. Let me die--let me die, I say,
+rather than suffer such a fate--such an affliction. I see myself brought
+before the magistrate--me--myself--at my age, charged with this and with
+that. What defence? None, save that I did not remember.'
+
+'That could never be,' said Elsie confidently, because she knew the
+facts. 'If such a thing were to befall, your character would never be
+changed. You might talk and think differently, but you could never be
+otherwise than a good man. You to haunt low company? Oh! you could not
+even in a waking dream. People who dream, I am sure, always remain
+themselves, however strangely they may act. How could you--you--after
+such a life as yours, become a haunter of low company? One might perhaps
+suppose that Athelstan had been living among profligates because he is
+young and untried--but you?--you? Oh! no. If you had these waking
+dreams--perhaps you have them--you would become--you would become--I
+really think you would become'--she watched his face--'such--such a man
+as--as--Mr. Edmund Gray, who is so like yourself, and yet so different.'
+
+He started. 'Edmund Gray again? Good Heavens! It is always Edmund Gray!'
+
+'He is now a friend of mine. I have only known him for a week or two. He
+does not think quite as you do. But he is a good man. Since, in dreams,
+we do strange things, you might act and speak and think as Edmund Gray.'
+
+'I speak and think as---- But--am I dreaming? Am I forgetting again? Am
+I awake? Edmund Gray is the man whom we want to find.'
+
+'I have found him,' said Elsie quietly.
+
+'The forger--if he is the forger----'
+
+'No--no. Do not make more mistakes. You shall have the truth in a day or
+two. Would you like to see Edmund Gray? Will you come with me to his
+Chambers? Whenever you call, you--you, I say--will find him at home.'
+
+'No--no. I know his doctrines--futile doctrines--mischievous doctrines.
+I do not wish to meet him. What do you mean by mistakes? There are the
+letters--there are the forgeries. Are there two Edmund Grays?'
+
+'No--only one. He is the man they cannot find. I will show you, if you
+like, what manner of man he is.'
+
+'No. I do not want to see a Socialist. I should insult him.--You are
+mysterious, Elsie. You know this man, this mischievous doctrinaire--this
+leveller--this spoliator. You tell me that he is a good man--you want me
+to see him. What, I ask, do these things mean?'
+
+'They mean many things, my dear guardian. Chiefly they mean that you
+shall get back your Property, and that suspicion shall be removed from
+innocent persons--and all this, I hope, before next Wednesday, when I am
+to be married. We must all be happy on my wedding day.'
+
+'Will--will Mr. Edmund Gray be there as well?'
+
+'He has promised.--And now, my dear guardian, if you will come round to
+Gray's Inn with me, I will show you the Chambers of Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+'No--no. Thank you, Elsie-- I do not wish to make the personal
+acquaintance of a Socialist.'
+
+'He has Chambers on the second floor. The principal room is large and
+well furnished. It is a wainscoted room with two windows looking on the
+Square. It is not a very pretty Square, because they have not made a
+garden or laid down grass in the middle--and the houses are rather
+dingy. He sits there in the evening. He writes and meditates. Sometimes
+he teaches me, but that is a new thing. In the morning he is sometimes
+there between nine o'clock and twelve. He has an old laundress, who
+pretends to keep his rooms clean.'
+
+She murmured these words softly, thinking to turn his memory back and
+make him understand what had happened.
+
+'They are pleasant rooms, are they not?' He made no reply--his eyes
+betrayed trouble. She thought it was the trouble of struggling
+memory.--'He sits here alone and works. He thinks he is working for the
+advancement of the world. There is no one so good, I think, as Edmund
+Gray.'
+
+He suddenly pushed back the chair and sprang to his feet.
+
+'My Scholar! You speak of me?'
+
+It was so sudden that Elsie cried out and fell backwards in her chair.
+She had brought on the thing by her own words, by conjuring up a vision
+of the Chambers. But--the trouble was not the struggle of the memory
+getting hold of evasive facts.
+
+'Why, child,' he remonstrated, 'you look pale. Is it the heat? Come, it
+is cooler outside. Let us go to the Chambers in Gray's Inn. This old
+fellow--this Dering--here he sits all day long. It is Tom Tiddler's
+ground. It is paved with gold, which he picks up. The place--let us
+whisper--because he must be in the outer office--it reeks of
+Property--reeks of Property.'
+
+He took his hat and gloves. 'My Scholar, let us go.' By force of habit,
+he shut and locked the safe and dropped the bunch of keys in his
+pocket.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+ATHELSTAN'S DISCOVERY
+
+
+On the evening of that same day the same discovery was made by another
+of the persons chiefly concerned.
+
+You have seen that Athelstan on his return made haste to find out the
+commissionaire who had presented the forged cheque. Happily, the man
+remembered not only the circumstance itself but also his employer on
+that occasion. A generosity far above what is commonly found among those
+who employ the services of that corps endeared and preserved the memory
+of the day. He had received, in fact, half a sovereign for an
+eighteenpenny job; and the commissionaire is not like the cabby, to whom
+such windfalls are common. Not at all. With the former we observe the
+letter of the law.
+
+After eight years this man's memory was rewarded. This thrice blessed
+job produced yet more golden fruit. Heard one ever of a more prolific
+job?
+
+After breakfast, Athelstan was informed that a commissionaire desired to
+speak with him. It was his one-armed friend.
+
+'Beg your pardon, sir,' he said, saluting after the military
+manner--'you said I was to come and tell you, first thing, if I found
+your man for you.'
+
+'Certainly. I told you also that I would give you a five-pound reward
+for finding my man, as you call him. Well--I will be as good as my word
+if you have found him.'
+
+'I saw him yesterday. The very same old gentleman that sent me to the
+Bank that day. He's older, and he doesn't look so jolly, and he walks
+slower; but I knew him at once.'
+
+'Oh! are you quite sure? Because a resemblance, you know----'
+
+'Well, sir, I can swear to him. I remember him as well as I remember
+anybody. He sat in the chair, and he laughed, and he said: "You've been
+quick over the job, my man. There's something extra, because you might
+have dropped the money down a grating, or run away with it, or
+something," he says. "Here's half a sovereign for you, my man," says he;
+"and I daresay you can do with it." "I can so, sir," I says, "and with
+as many more like them as I can pick up." Then he laughed, and I
+laughed, and we both laughed.--And that's the same man that I saw
+yesterday evening.'
+
+'Oh! this is very curious. Are you quite sure?'
+
+'I'd swear to him anywhere. A man can't say fairer.'
+
+'No--as you say--a man can hardly say fairer, can he? Now, then, when
+did you see him?'
+
+'It was between six and seven. I'd been doing a message for a gentleman
+in the Strand--a gentleman in the dining-room line to a gentleman in
+Holborn in the sausage and tripe line--and I was going back with a
+letter, and going through Lincoln's Inn for a short cut. Just as I was
+getting near the gate to the Fields, I saw coming out of the door at No.
+12 the very man you want to find. I wasn't thinking about him, not a
+bit-- I was thinking of nothing at all, when he come out of the door and
+walked down the steps. Then I knew him. Lord! I knew him at once.
+"You're the man," I says to myself, "as give me the half-sov. instead of
+eighteenpence." Well, I stood at the corner and waited to see if he
+would remember me. Not a bit of it. He stared at me hard, but he never
+recollected me a bit--I could see that. Why should he? Nobody remembers
+the servant any more than they remember the private in the ranks. The
+very same old gentleman; but he's grown older, and he didn't look jolly
+any more. P'raps he's lost his money.'
+
+'Came out of No. 12, did he? Why, Dering & Son's office is there. What
+does this mean?'
+
+'I thought I'd like to find out something more about him; and I thought
+that a five-pound note was better worth looking after than
+eighteenpence--so I let the letter from the tripe and sausage man lay a
+bit, and I followed my old gentleman at a good distance.'
+
+'Oh! you followed him. Very good. Did you find out where he lived? I can
+tell you that. He went to No. 22 South Square, Gray's Inn.'
+
+'No; he didn't, sir.--But you are not very far wrong. He went through
+Great Turnstile; then he crossed Holborn and turned into Featherstone
+Buildings, which is all lodging-houses. But he doesn't live there. He
+walked through the Buildings, and so into Bedford Row, and he stopped at
+a house there----'
+
+'What! In Bedford Row?'
+
+'Yes; in Bedford Row--and he pulls out a latch-key and lets himself in.
+That's where he lives. No. 49 Bedford Row, on the west side, very near
+the bottom. He lives in Bedford Row.--Well, sir, I like to do things
+proper, and so, to make the job complete, I went to the _Salutation_,
+Holborn, where they keep a Directory, and I looked out his name. The
+gentleman that lives at No. 49 Bedford Row is named Edward Dering--and
+among the names of No. 12 New Square, Lincoln's Inn, is the name of
+Dering & Son.--So, sir, I don't think it is too much to say that your
+man is Mr. Dering, who belongs both to Bedford Row and Lincoln's Inn.
+He's the man who sent me to the Bank eight years ago.'
+
+Athelstan stared at him. 'He the man?' he cried. 'You are talking
+impossibilities. He can't be the man.'
+
+'Nobody else, sir. If that was Mr. Dering that I saw yesterday walking
+home from New Square to Bedford Row--he's the man who sent me for the
+money.'
+
+To this statement the man stuck firm. Nor could he be moved by any
+assertion that his position was impossible. 'For, my friend,' said
+Athelstan, 'the man who sent you with the cheque was the man who robbed
+Mr. Dering.'
+
+'Can't help that, sir. If the gentleman I saw yesterday walking from
+Lincoln's Inn to Bedford Row was Mr. Dering--then he robbed hisself.'
+
+'That's foolishness. Oh! there must be some explanation. Look here! Mr.
+Edward Dering leaves his office every evening between six and seven. I
+will be in New Square on the west side this evening at six. You be
+there, as well. Try not to seem as if you were watching for anybody.
+Stand about at your ease.'
+
+'I'll make it sentry-go, sir,' said the old soldier. 'I'll walk up and
+down in front of the door same as some of our chaps got to do in front
+of shops. You trust me, sir, and I won't take no notice of you.'
+
+This little plot, in fact, was faithfully carried out. At six o'clock
+Athelstan began to walk up and down outside the gate which opens upon
+Lincoln's Inn Fields--the commissionaire at the same time was doing
+sentry-go in front of No. 12 in New Square. When the clock struck six
+there was a rush and a tramp of hurrying feet; these were the clerks set
+free for the day. There are not many solicitors' offices in New Square,
+and these once gone, the place becomes perfectly quiet. At half-past
+six there was the footfall as of one man on the stairs, and he descended
+slowly. He came out of the door presently, an old bent figure with white
+hair and shrivelled face. Paying no heed to the sentry, he walked away
+with feeble step in the direction of Chancery Lane. Checkley this was,
+on his way to look after his tenants and his property.
+
+Athelstan looked after him, through the gate. Then he called his old
+soldier. 'See that man?' he asked. 'That's the man who sent you to the
+Bank.'
+
+'No--he isn't.' The man was stout on that point. 'Not a bit like him.
+That old man's a servant, not a gentleman. See the way he holds his
+hands. Never a gentleman yet carried his hands that way. You can always
+tell 'em by their hands. The other day I met an old pal--seemed to
+forget me, he did. Wanted to make out that he'd never been in the army
+at all. So I lay by for a bit. Then I gets up--and he gets up too.
+"'Tention," says I, and he stood to 'tention like a good old Tommy
+Atkins. You watch their hands whatever they say. Always tell 'em by
+their hands. That old man he's a servant. He isn't a gentleman. He can't
+sit among the swells and order about the waiters. He hasn't learned that
+way. He'd get up himself, if you asked him, and put the napkin under his
+arm and bring you a glass of sherry wine. He's not my man. You wait a
+bit.'
+
+At a quarter to seven another footstep was heard echoing up and down the
+empty building. Then an old man, erect, thin, tightly buttoned, wearing
+neat gloves and carrying an umbrella, came out of the door. His face was
+hard, even austere. His walk was firm. The Sentry, as this person walked
+out of the gate, followed at a distance. When he was beside Athelstan,
+he whispered: 'That's the man. I'd swear to him anywhere. That's the man
+that sent me to the Bank.'
+
+Athelstan heard in unbounded astonishment. That the man? Why--it was Mr.
+Dering himself!
+
+'Let us follow him,' he whispered. 'Not together. On opposite sides of
+the road. Good Heavens! This is most wonderful. Do not lose sight of
+him.'
+
+To follow him was perfectly easy, because Mr. Dering turned neither to
+the right nor to the left, but marched straight on through Great
+Turnstile, across Holborn, through Featherstone Buildings, and into
+Bedford Row. At No. 49, his own house. Where else should he stop?
+
+Athelstan took out his purse and gave the man the five pounds. 'I don't
+know what it means,' he said. 'I can't understand a word. But I suppose
+you have told me the truth. I don't know why you should make up a
+lie----'
+
+'It's Gauspel Truth,' said the man.
+
+'And therefore again--I don't understand it. Well--I've got your name
+and your number. If I want you again I will send for you.'
+
+The man saluted and walked away. Half a sovereign for an eighteenpenny
+job, and eight years afterwards five pounds on account of the same job.
+Robbery, was it? Robbery--and the old man pretending to rob himself. Now
+what did that mean? Laying it on to some poor harmless innocent cove,
+the soldier guessed: laying it on to some one as he had a spite
+against--the old villain--very likely this young governor--most likely--
+Donation on account of that same job, very likely--the old villain!
+
+As for Athelstan, he returned to Lincoln's Inn Fields, where, the
+evening being fine and the sun warm and the place quiet except for the
+children at play, he walked up and down the east or sunny side for half
+an hour turning the thing over in his mind.
+
+For, you see, if Mr. Dering went through the form of robbing himself and
+finding out the robbery and coldly suffering the blame to fall upon
+himself--then Mr. Dering must be one of the most phenomenally wicked of
+living men. Or, if Mr. Dering robbed himself, and did not know it--then
+Mr. Dering must be mad.
+
+Again, if such a thing could be done on a small scale, it might be done
+on a larger scale with the same result--namely, suspicion to fall upon a
+blameless person; obloquy to gather round his name--for in some cases
+simply to be charged is almost as fatal as to be convicted: and perfect
+impunity for himself. 'This is not my own writing, but a forgery,' said
+the man who had been robbed. Then, who is the forger? You--you. None but
+you. The bare suspicion becomes a certainty in the minds of those who
+were once that man's friends.--And his life is cankered at the outset.
+He thought of his own life; the bitterness of alienation and exile.
+Never any time for eight years when he could explain the reasons of his
+exile. Debt, the cultivation of wild oats, failure to pass
+examinations--anything would do for such a reason except suspicion of
+forgery. Athelstan was a cheerful young man. He seldom allowed himself
+to be cast down by the blows of fate. Nevertheless, during his whole
+time of exile, the drop of bitterness that poisoned his cup was that he
+could not tell the whole story because the world would believe no more
+than half--that half, namely, which contained the accusation. When one
+walks about thinking, there comes a time when it seems no good to think
+any longer. The mind can only get a certain amount out of a case at one
+sitting. That amount absorbed, the best thing is to go on to something
+else. Athelstan went on to dinner. He left his sister to the care of her
+young man, and dined by himself. He took a steak at a Holborn restaurant
+with an evening paper, which he considered professionally. After dinner
+he returned to his subject. Perhaps he should get a step farther.
+No--perhaps on account of the sweet influence of dinner he got no
+farther at all. Here was an astonishing fact. How to account for it? You
+have seen--by one of two ways--malignity unspeakable: or
+madness--madness of a very curious kind--the madness of a man whose calm
+cold judgment had made him appear to his friends as one with an
+intellect far above any ordinary weaknesses of humanity. Mr. Dering mad?
+Then the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the Speaker of the House of
+Commons, the President of the Royal Society, the President of the
+Institute of Civil Engineers, the Cambridge Professors of
+Mathematics--all these men might be mad as well. And nobody to know it
+or to suspect it. Mr. Dering mad! and yet, if not, what was he?
+
+There was one way. He had tried it already once. He left the restaurant
+and turned eastwards. He was going to try South Square, Gray's Inn,
+again. Perhaps Mr. Edmund Gray would be in his rooms.
+
+He was not. The door was shut. But the opposite door stood open, that of
+Freddy Carstone. Athelstan knocked, and was admitted with eloquence
+almost tumultuous.
+
+'Just in time,' said the coach. 'I've got a new brand of whisky,
+straight from Glasgow. You shall sample it. Have you had dinner yet? So
+have I. Sit down. Let us talk and smoke tobacco and drink whisky and
+soda.'
+
+'I will do the talking and the tobacco at any rate.'
+
+'I love Virtue,' said Freddy. 'She is a lovely goddess--for "if Virtue
+feeble were, Heaven itself would stoop to her." She has only one fault.
+There is reproach in her voice, reproach in her eye, and reproach in her
+attitude. She is an uncomfortable goddess. Fortunately, she dwells not
+in this venerable foundation. Do not imitate Virtue, old boy. Let me----
+That's right. We shall then start fair upon the primrose path--the broad
+and flowery way--though I may get farther down than you. Athelstan the
+Wanderer--Melmoth the Wanderer--Childe Harold the Pilgrim--drink and be
+human.' He set the example. 'Good whisky--very good whisky. Athelstan,
+there's a poor devil up-stairs, starving for the most part--let's have
+him down. It's a charity.' He ran up-stairs, and immediately returned
+with the decayed Advocate, who looked less hungry than usual, and a
+shade less shabby--you have seen how he borrowed of Mr. Edmund Gray
+through Elsie.
+
+'Now,' said the host, 'I call this comfortable; a warm August evening;
+the window open; a suspicion of fresh air from the gardens; soda and
+whisky; and two men for talk. Most evenings one has to sit alone. Then
+there's a temptation to--to close the evening too quickly.'
+
+'Freddy, I want to hear more about your neighbour. You told me
+something, if you remember, a week or two ago.'
+
+'Very odd thing. Old Checkley at the _Salutation_ is always pestering
+about Mr. Edmund Gray. What has he to do with Mr. Edmund Gray? Wanted me
+to answer his questions.'
+
+'And me,' said Mr. Langhorne. 'I did answer them.'
+
+'Well--Mr. Edmund Gray is---- What is he? An old gentleman of cheerful
+aspect, who is apparently a Socialist. We must all be allowed our little
+weaknesses. All I ask for is----' He reached his hand for the whisky.
+'This old gentleman carries his hobbies so far as to believe in them
+seriously. I've talked to him about them.'
+
+'I have heard him lecture at Camden Town,' said the Barrister. 'I go
+there sometimes on Sunday evening. They have a tea-feast with him and
+cake and toast. It is a pleasant gathering. It reminds one of the Early
+Church.'
+
+'Well, Athelstan, what else can I tell you? Hark!' There was a step
+heard ascending the stairs. 'I believe that is the old man himself. If
+it is, you shall see him. I will bring him in.'
+
+He went out to meet the unknown footstep on the landing. He greeted the
+owner of that footstep: he stopped him: he persuaded him to step into
+the opposite room. 'You must be lonely, Mr. Gray, sitting by yourself.
+Come in and have an hour's talk. Come in. This way. The room is rather
+dark. Here is Mr. Langhorne, your overhead neighbour, whom you know; and
+here is Mr. Athelstan Arundel, whom you don't know. Those who do know
+him like him, except for his Virtue, which is ostentatious in one so
+young.'
+
+It was now nearly nine o'clock. The lamp was not lit, and the room lay
+in twilight. It is the favourite shade for ghosts. A ghost stood before
+Athelstan, and shook hands with him--the ghost of Mr. Dering.
+
+'I am happy'--the ghost held out his hand--'to make your acquaintance,
+Mr. Arundel. An old man, like myself, makes acquaintances, but not
+friends. His time for new friendships is gone. Still, the world may be
+full of pleasant acquaintances.'
+
+He sat down, taking a chair in the window: the shade of the curtain fell
+upon his face so that nothing could be seen but a white circle.
+
+'Let us have candles, Freddy,' said Athelstan.
+
+'By all means.' Freddy lit a lamp on the table and two candles on the
+mantel-shelf. By their light the lineaments and figure of the ghost came
+out more distinctly. Athelstan gazed on it with bewilderment; his head
+went round; he closed his eyes: he tried to pull himself together.
+
+He sat up: he drank half a glass of whisky and soda, he stared steadily
+at the figure he had not seen for eight years, since---- Good Heavens!
+and this man had done it himself! And he was as mad as a hatter.
+
+Mr. Edmund Gray looked serenely cheerful. He lay back in the long chair,
+his feet extended and crossed: his elbows on the arms of the chair, his
+finger-tips touching; his face was wreathed with smiles; he looked as if
+he had always found the world the best of all possible worlds.
+
+Athelstan heard nothing of what was said. His old friend Freddy Carstone
+was talking in his light and airy way, as if nothing at all mattered. He
+was not expected to say anything. Freddy liked to do all the talking for
+himself--therefore he sat watching a man under an illusion so
+extraordinary that it made him another man. Nothing was changed in
+him--neither features nor voice nor dress--yet he was another man.
+'Why,' asked Athelstan, 'why did he write that cheque for seven hundred
+and twenty pounds?'
+
+Presently Freddy stopped talking, and Mr. Edmund Gray took up the
+conversation. What he said--the doctrines which he advanced, we know
+already. 'And these things,' said Athelstan to himself, 'from those
+lips! Is it possible?'
+
+At ten o'clock Mr. Edmund Gray rose. He had to write a letter; he prayed
+to be excused. He offered his hand again to Athelstan. 'Good-night,
+sir,' he said. 'To the pleasure of seeing you again.'
+
+'Have we never met before, Mr. Gray?' Athelstan asked.
+
+'I think not. I should remember you, Mr. Arundel, I am sure,' Mr. Gray
+replied politely. 'Besides, I never forget a face. And yours is new to
+me.--Good-night, sir.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+CHECKLEY SEES A GHOST
+
+
+To Checkley, watching every evening, though not always at the same time,
+sooner or later the same discovery was certain to come. It happened, in
+fact, on Friday evening, the day after Athelstan shook hands with Mr.
+Edmund Gray. On that night he left the office between six and seven,
+walked to his lodgings in Clerkenwell, made himself a cup of tea, and
+hurried back to Gray's Inn. Here he planted himself, as usual, close to
+the passage in the north-east corner of South Square, so that he could
+slip in on occasion and be effaced. Like many of the detective tribe, or
+like the ostrich, fount of many fables, he imagined himself by reason of
+this retreat entirely hidden from the observation of all. Of course the
+exact contrary was the result. The Policeman regarded him with the
+liveliest curiosity: the laundresses watched him daily: the newspaper
+vendor came every evening from the gateway to see what this ancient spy
+was doing, and why he lurked stealthily in the passage and looked out
+furtively. He was one of the little incidents or episodes which vary the
+daily routine of life in the Inn. Many of these occur every year: the
+people who come to their offices at ten and go away at five know nothing
+about them: the residents who leave at ten and return at six or seven
+or twelve know nothing about them. But the Service know: and they talk
+and conjecture. Here was an elderly man--nay, an old, old man,
+apparently eighty years of age. What did he want, coming night after
+night to hide himself in a passage and peer out into the Square? What,
+indeed? The Policeman, who had done duty in Hyde Park, could tell
+instructive stories from his own experience about frisky age: the
+laundresses remembered gentlemen for whom they had 'done,' and pranks
+with which those gentlemen amused themselves; but no one knew a case
+parallel to this. Why should an old man stand in the corner and secretly
+look out into the Square? He generally arrived at half-past seven, and
+he left his post at nine, when it was too dark to see across the Square.
+Then he went to the _Salutation_ and enjoyed society, conversation, and
+a cheerful glass, as you have seen.
+
+The time he chose was unfortunate, because Mr. Edmund Gray, when he
+called at his Chambers, generally did so at half-past six or seven, on
+his way to the Hall of Science, Kentish Town. Therefore, Checkley might
+have gone on watching for a long time--say an aeon--watching and waiting
+in vain. But an accident happened which rewarded him richly for all his
+trouble. It was on Friday. Elsie, provided by this time with a latch-key
+to the Chambers, arrived at Gray's Inn at six. She was going to spend
+the evening with the Master. She walked in, ascended the staircase--Mr.
+Gray had not yet arrived--opened the door, shut it behind her, and
+entered the room.
+
+The hand of woman was now visible in the general improvement of the
+room. The windows were clean and bright: the wainscoted walls had been
+cleaned: the ceiling whitewashed: the carpet had been swept and the
+furniture dusted: there were flowers on the table: there was an easel,
+on which stood Elsie's fancy portrait of Mr. Dering, so wonderfully like
+Mr. Gray--a speaking likeness: books lay about the table--they were all
+books on the Labour Question: on the Social Question: on the Problems of
+the Day: all the books on all the questions with which men now torture
+themselves, and think thereby to advance the coming of the Kingdom of
+Heaven. There were new curtains, dainty curtains, of lace, hanging
+before the windows: and the window-blinds themselves were clean and new.
+Elsie looked about her with a certain satisfaction: it was her own
+doing, the work of her own hand, because the old laundress was satisfied
+to sit down and look on. 'At the least,' she said, 'the poor dear man
+has a clean room.' Then she remembered that in a day or two she would
+leave him to his old solitude, and she sighed, thinking how he clung to
+her and leaned upon her, and already looked upon her as his
+successor--'a clean room,' she said, 'when I have left him. Perhaps he
+will leave the room, too, and be all day long what he used to be.--Sane
+or mad? I love him best when he is mad.'
+
+The table was covered with manuscripts. These were part of the great
+work which he was about to give to the world.
+
+Elsie had never seen the room behind this. A guilty curiosity seized
+her. She felt like the youngest of Bluebeard's wives. She felt the
+impulse: she resisted: she gave way: she opened the door and looked in.
+
+She found a room nearly as large as the sitting-room. The windows were
+black with dust and soot. She opened one, and looked out upon a small
+green area outside, littered with paper and bottles and all kind of
+jetsam. The floor of the room was a couple of inches deep with dust: the
+chairs and the dressing-table were deep in dust. The bed was laid, but
+the blankets were devoured by moths: there was not a square inch left
+whole. It looked as if it had been brought in new and covered with
+sheets and blankets and so left, the room unopened, the bed untouched,
+for the ten years of Mr. Edmund Gray's tenancy.
+
+Between the bedroom and the sitting-room was a small dark room,
+containing a bath, a table for washing-up, knives and forks in a basket,
+teacups and saucers.
+
+'The pantry,' said Elsie, 'and the scullery, and the house-maid's
+closet, all together. Oh! beautiful! And to think that men live in such
+dens--and sleep there contentedly night after night in this lonely,
+ghostly old place. Horrible! 'A rattling behind the wainscoting warned
+her that ghosts can show themselves even in the daytime. She shuddered,
+and retreated to the sitting-room. Here she took a book and sat by the
+open window, heedless of the fact that she could be seen by anyone from
+the Square.
+
+It was seven o'clock before Mr. Edmund Gray arrived. 'Ah! child,' he
+cried tenderly, 'you are here before me. I was delayed--some business.
+What was it? Pshaw! I forget everything. Never mind--I am here; and
+before we take a cab, I want you once more to go through with me the
+points of my new Catechism. Now, if you are ready.'
+
+'Quite ready, Master.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At half-past seven Checkley arrived at his corner and took a preliminary
+survey of the Square. 'There he is,' said the Policeman. 'There he is
+again,' said two laundresses conversing on a doorstep. 'There he is as
+usual,' said the newspaper man. 'Now,' asked all in chorus, 'what's he
+want there?'
+
+Mr. Checkley looked out from his corner, saw no one in the Square, and
+retreated into his passage. Then he looked out again, and retreated
+again. If anyone passed through the passage, Checkley was always walking
+off with great resolution in the opposite direction.
+
+Presently, in one of his stealthy peerings, he happened to look up. Then
+he started--he shaded his eyes: he looked his hardest. Yes, at the open
+window, freely displayed, without the least attempt at concealment, he
+saw the head and face of Miss Elsie Arundel. There! There! What more was
+necessary? Edmund Gray was Athelstan Arundel, or George Austin, or
+both--and Elsie Arundel was an accomplice after the act. There! There!
+He retreated to the seclusion of the passage and rubbed his hands. This
+would please Sir Samuel. He should hear it that very night. This ought
+to please him very much, because it made things so clear at last. There
+she was--up-stairs, in the Chambers of Mr. Edmund Gray--in the very
+room! There! There! There!
+
+Perhaps he was mistaken. But his sight was very good--for distant
+things. In reading a newspaper he might make mistakes, because he was
+one of those elderly persons who enjoy their newspaper most when they
+can nail it upon the wall and sit down to read it from the other side of
+a large room. He looked up again. The setting sun shining on the window
+of the side where he stood--the eastern side was reflected upon the
+windows of No. 22--Elsie's shapely head--she had taken off her hat--was
+bathed in the reflected sunshine. No doubt about her at all. There she
+was. There! There! There! The old man was fain to take a walk up Verulam
+Buildings and back again, to disguise his delight at this discovery. He
+walked chuckling and cracking his fingers, so that those who saw
+him--but there are not many in Raymond's Buildings on an August
+evening--thought that he must be either a little mad or a little drunk
+or a little foolish. But nobody much regards the actions of an ancient
+man. It is only the respect of his grandchildren or the thought of his
+possessions that gives him importance. Only the strong are regarded, and
+an old man who looks poor gets no credit even for foolishness and silly
+chuckles. Then Checkley went back to his corner. Oh! what was that? He
+rubbed his eyes again. He turned pale: he staggered: he caught at the
+door-posts. What was that? He shaded his eyes and looked again--bent and
+trembling and shaking all over. Said the Policeman: 'Looks as if he's
+going to get 'em again.' Said the laundresses: 'He looks as if he'd seen
+a ghost.' The newspaper boy stepped half-way across the Square. 'He's
+looking at Mr. Edmund Gray and the young lady. Jealous--p'raps--knows
+the young lady--wouldn't have believed it prob'ly.'
+
+Yes--Checkley was looking at that window. No doubt of that at all. He
+was not able to disguise his astonishment: he no longer pretended to
+hide himself. For he saw, sitting in the window, the young lady whom he
+believed to be an accomplice in the crime; and standing over her, with
+an expression of fatherly affection, was none other than Mr. Dering
+himself.
+
+Yes-- Mr. Dering. Most wonderful! What did it mean? Had Mr. Dering
+resolved to clear up the mystery of Edmund Gray? Had he penetrated the
+Chambers and found there--not Edmund Gray--but Elsie Arundel?
+
+'My friend,' said the Policeman, standing before him so that the view of
+the window was intercepted, 'you seem interested over the way.'
+
+'I am. I am. Oh! yes. Much interested.'
+
+'Well--don't you think you've looked at that old gentleman long enough?
+Perhaps he wouldn't like so much looking at. There's a young lady, too.
+It isn't manners to be staring at a young lady like a stuck pig.'
+
+'No--no, Policeman-- I've seen enough--thank you.'
+
+'And, still talking in a friendly way, do you think Mr. Edmund Gray over
+there would like it if he knew there was a detective or a spy watching
+every evening on the other side of the Square? What's the little game,
+guv'nor? Anything in our line? Not with that most respectable old
+gentleman, I do hope--though sometimes---- Well--what is it? Because we
+can't have you goin' on as you have a been goin' on, you know.'
+
+'Policeman'--Checkley pulled him aside and pointed to the little group
+at the window--'you see that old gentleman there--do you know him?'
+
+'Certainly. Known him ever since I came to the Inn--two years ago. The
+people of the Inn have known him for ten years, I believe. That's Mr.
+Edmund Gray. He's not one of the regular residents, and he hasn't got an
+office. Comes here now and then when he fancies the place--Mr. Edmund
+Gray, that is. I wish all the gentlemen in the Inn were half as liberal
+as he is.'
+
+'Oh! it's impossible! Say it again, Policeman. Perhaps I'm a little
+deaf--I'm very old, you know--a little deaf perhaps. Say it again.'
+
+'What's the matter with the man?' For he was shaking violently, and his
+eyes stared. 'Of course that is Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+'What does the girl do with him? Why are they both there together?'
+
+'How should I know why she calls upon him? She's a young lady, and a
+sweet young thing too. He's her grandfather likely.'
+
+Checkley groaned.
+
+'I must go somewhere and think this out,' he said. 'Excuse me,
+Policeman. I am an old man, and--and-- I've had a bit of a shock and----
+Good-evening, Policeman.' He shaded his eyes again and looked up.
+Yes--there they were, talking. Then Elsie rose and he saw her putting on
+her hat. Then she retreated up the room. But still he stood watching.
+
+'Not had enough yet, guv'nor?' asked the Policeman.
+
+'Only a minute. I want to see her go out.--Yes--there they are--going
+out together. It is, after all---- Oh! there is no mistake.'
+
+'There is no mistake, guv'nor,' said the Policeman. 'There goes Mr.
+Edmund Gray, and there goes that sweet young thing along of him.--Ah!
+there's many advantages about being a gentleman. No mistake, I say,
+about them two.--Now, old man, you look as if you'd had a surprise.
+Hadn't you better go home and take a drop of something?'
+
+It was earlier than Checkley generally went to the _Salutation_. But he
+delayed no longer. He tottered across the Square, showing very much of
+extreme feebleness, looking neither to the right nor to the left, his
+cheek white, his eyes rolling. The people looked after him, expecting
+that he would fall. But he did not. He turned into the tavern, hobbled
+along the passage, and sank into an arm-chair in the parlour.
+
+'Good gracious, Mr. Checkley!' cried the barmaid as he passed, 'whatever
+is the matter?'
+
+Some of the usual company were already assembled, although it was as yet
+hardly eight. The money-lender was there, sitting in his corner, taking
+his tobacco and his grog in silence. The decayed Barrister was there,
+his glass of old and mild before him, reading the morning newspaper. The
+ex-M.P. was there. When Checkley tumbled into the room, they looked up
+in surprise. When he gazed about him wildly and gasped, they were
+astonished, for he seemed like unto one about to have a fit.
+
+'Give me something, Robert--give me something,' he cried.
+'Quick--something strong. I'll have it short. Quick--quick!'
+
+Robert brought him a small glass of brandy, which he swallowed hastily.
+
+'Oh!' he groaned, sitting up, 'I've seen-- I've seen----'
+
+'You look as if you had seen a ghost,' said the barmaid, who had come
+along with a glass of water. 'Shall I bathe your forehead?'
+
+'No--no. I am better now--I am all right again.--Gentlemen'--he looked
+round the room solemnly--'I've seen this evening a good man--an old
+man--a great man--a rich man; gentlemen, wrecked and cast away and
+destroyed and ruined. With a little devil of a woman to laugh at him!'
+
+'They don't generally laugh at the men when they are ruined,' said Mr.
+Langhorne. 'They laugh while they are ruining them. It's fun to them. So
+it is to the men. Great fun it is while it lasts. I daresay the little
+woman won't really laugh at him. In my case----'
+
+His case was left untold, because he stopped and buried his head in his
+newspaper.
+
+Then Shylock spoke. He removed his pipe from his lips and spoke, moved,
+after his kind, by the mention of the words wreck and ruin, just as the
+vulture pricks up its feathers at the word death.
+
+'To see a rich man wrecked and ruined, Mr. Checkley, is a thing which a
+man may see every day. The thing is not to lose by their wreck--to make
+money out of it. Rich men are always being wrecked and ruined. What else
+can you expect if men refuse to pay their interest and to meet their
+bills? The melancholy thing--ah! the real sadness--is the ruin of a man
+who has trusted his fellow creatures and got taken in for his pains.
+Only this morning I find that I've been let in by a swindler--a common
+swindler, gentlemen--who comes round and says he can't pay up--can't pay
+up--and I'm welcome to the sticks.--Which kind of man might your friend
+be, Mr. Checkley, the man who's trusted his neighbour and got left--or
+the neighbour who's ramped the man that trusted him?'
+
+'It isn't money at all,' Checkley replied.
+
+'Then, sir, if it isn't money,' said the money-lender, 'I don't know why
+you come in frightening this honourable company out of their wits. If it
+isn't money, how the devil can the gentleman be wrecked and ruined?'
+
+For two hours Mr. Checkley sat in silence, evidently not listening to
+what was said. Then he turned to Mr. Langhorne the Barrister: 'You've
+known Mr. Edmund Gray a long time, I believe?'
+
+'Nine years--ten years--since he came to the Inn.'
+
+'Always the same man, I suppose?' said Checkley. 'Never another man--not
+sometimes a young man--or two young men--one rather a tall young man,
+looks as if the world was all his--supercilious beast?'
+
+'Never more than one man at once,' replied the Barrister with a show of
+forensic keenness. 'He might have been two young men rolled into one;
+but not to my knowledge: always the same man to look at, so far as I
+know--and the same man to talk with.'
+
+'Oh! yes--yes. There's no hope left--none. He's ruined and lost and cast
+away and done for.'
+
+He rose and walked out. The company looked after him and shook their
+heads. Then they drew their chairs a little closer, and the gap made by
+his departure vanished.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+THE DAY AFTER THE GHOST
+
+
+When Mr. Dering arrived at his office next morning he observed that his
+table had not been arranged for him. Imagine the surprise of the
+housewife should she come down to breakfast and find the ham and the
+toast and the tea placed upon the table without the decent cloth! With
+such eyes did Mr. Dering gaze upon the pile of yesterday's letters lying
+upon his blotting-pad, the pens in disorder, the papers heaped about
+anyhow, the dust of yesterday everywhere. Such a thing had never
+happened before in his whole experience of fifty-five years. He touched
+his bell sharply.
+
+'Why,' he asked, hanging up his coat without turning round, 'why is not
+my table put in order?' He turned and saw his clerk standing at the open
+door.--'Good Heavens! Checkley, what is the matter?'
+
+For the ancient servitor stood with drooping head and melancholy face
+and bent shoulders. His hands hung down in the attitude of one who waits
+to serve. But he did not serve. He stood still and he made no reply.
+
+He understood now. Since the apparition of South Square he had had time
+to reflect. He now understood the whole business from the beginning to
+the end. One hand there was, and only one, concerned with the case. Now
+he understood the meaning of the frequent fits of abstraction, the long
+silences, this strange forgetfulness which made his master mix up days
+and hours, and caused him to wonder what he had done and where he had
+been on this and that evening. And somebody else knew. The girl knew.
+She had told her lover. She had told her brother. That was why the new
+Partner laughed and defied them. It was on his charge that young Arundel
+had been forced to leave the country. It was he who declared that he had
+seen him place the stolen notes in the safe. It was he who had charged
+young Austin and whispered suspicions into the mind of Sir Samuel. Now
+the truth would come out, and they would all turn upon him, and his
+master would have to be told. Who would tell him? How could they tell
+him? Yet he must be told. And what would be done to the jealous servant?
+And how could the old lawyer, with such a knowledge about himself,
+continue to work at his office? All was finished. He would be sent about
+his business. His master would go home and stay there--with an
+attendant. How could he continue to live without his work to do? What
+would he do all day? With whom would he talk? Everything finished and
+done with. Everything----
+
+He stood, therefore, stricken dumb, humble, waiting for reproof.
+
+'Are you ill, Checkley? asked Mr. Dering. 'You look ill. What is the
+matter?
+
+'I am not ill,' he replied in a hollow voice, with a dismal shake of the
+head. 'I am not exactly ill. Yes, I am ill. I tried to put your table in
+order for you this morning, but I couldn't, I really couldn't. I feel as
+if I couldn't never do anything for you--never again. After sixty years'
+service, it's hard to feel like that.'
+
+He moved to the table and began mechanically laying the papers straight.
+
+'No one has touched your table but me for sixty years. It's hard to
+think that another hand will do this for you--and do it quite as well,
+you'll think. That's what we get for faithful service.' He put the
+papers all wrong, because his old eyes were dimmed with unaccustomed
+moisture. Checkley had long since ceased to weep over the sorrows of
+others, even in the most moving situations, when, for instance, he
+himself carried off the sticks instead of the rent. But no man is so old
+that he cannot weep over his own misfortunes. Checkley's eye was
+therefore dimmed with the tear of Compassion, which is the sister of
+Charity.
+
+'I do not understand you this morning, Checkley. Have you had any
+unpleasantness with Mr. Austin--with any of the people?'
+
+'No--no. Only that I had better go before I am turned out. That's all.
+That's all'--he repeated the words in despair. 'Nothing but that.'
+
+'Who is going to turn you out? What do you mean, Checkley? What the
+devil do you mean by going on like this? Am I not master here? Who can
+turn you out?'
+
+'You can, sir, and you will--and I'd rather, if you'll excuse the
+liberty, go out of my own accord. I'm a small man--only a very small
+man--but, thank God! I've got enough to give me a crust of bread and
+cheese to live upon.'
+
+'I tell you what, Checkley: you had better go home and lie down and rest
+a little. You are upset. Now, at our age we can't afford to be upset. Go
+home, and be easy. Old friends don't part quite so easily as you think.'
+Mr. Dering spoke kindly and gently. One must be patient with so old a
+servant.
+
+Checkley sobbed and choked. Like a child he sobbed. Like a child of
+four, Checkley choked and sniffed. 'You don't understand,' he said. 'Oh,
+no--you can't understand. It's what I saw last night.'
+
+'This is very wonderful. What did you see? A ghost?'
+
+'Worse than a ghost--who cares for a ghost? Ghosts can't turn a man out
+of his place and bring him to be a laughingstock. No--no. It was a man
+that I saw, not a ghost.'
+
+'If you can find it possible to talk reasonably'--Mr. Dering took his
+chair and tore open an envelope--'when you can find it possible to talk
+reasonably, I will listen. Meantime, I really think that you had better
+go home and lie down for an hour or two. Your nerves are shaken; you
+hardly know what you are saying.'
+
+'I was in Gray's Inn yesterday evening. By accident, at eight.' He spoke
+in gasps, watching his master curiously. 'By accident--not spying.
+No--by accident. On my way to my club--at the _Salutation_. Walking
+through South Square. Not thinking of anything. Looking about
+me--careless-like.'
+
+'South Square, Gray's Inn. That is the place where the man Edmund Gray
+lives: the man we want to find and cannot find.'
+
+'Oh! Lord! Lord!' exclaimed the clerk. 'Is it possible?' He lifted his
+hand and raised his eyes to heaven and groaned. Then he resumed his
+narrative.
+
+'Coming through the passage, I looked up to the windows of No. 22--Mr.
+Edmund Gray's Chambers, you know.'
+
+'I believe so.' Mr. Dering's face betrayed no emotion at all. 'Go on; I
+am told so.'
+
+'In the window I saw Mr. Edmund Gray himself--himself.'
+
+'Curious. You have seen him--but why not?'
+
+'The man we've all been so anxious to find. The man who endorsed the
+cheque and wrote the letters and got the papers--there he was!'
+
+'Question of identity. How did you know him, since you had never seen
+him before?'
+
+This question Checkley shirked.
+
+'He came down-stairs five minutes afterwards, while I was still looking
+up at the windows. Came down-stairs, and walked out of the Square--made
+as if he was going out by way of Raymond's Buildings--much as if he
+might be going to Bedford Row.'
+
+'These details are unimportant. Again--how did you know him?'
+
+'I asked the Policeman who the gentleman was. He said it was Mr. Edmund
+Gray. I asked the newspaper boy at the Holborn entrance. He said it was
+Mr. Edmund Gray, and that everybody knew him.'
+
+'So everybody knows him. Well, Checkley, I see nothing so very
+remarkable about your seeing a man so well known in the Inn. It adds
+nothing to our knowledge. That he exists, we know already. What share,
+if any, he has had in this case of ours remains still a mystery. Unless,
+that is, you have found out something else.'
+
+Checkley gazed upon his master with a kind of stupor. 'No--no,' he
+murmured. 'I can't.'
+
+'What did you do, when you found out that it was the man?'
+
+'Nothing.'
+
+'You did nothing. Well--under the circumstances I don't know what you
+could have done.'
+
+'And he walked away.'
+
+'Oh! He walked away. Very important indeed.--But, Checkley, this story
+does not in the least account for your strange agitation this morning.
+Have you anything more to tell me? I see that you have, but you seem to
+experience more than usual difficulty in getting it out.'
+
+The clerk hesitated. 'Do you,' he asked at last--'do you--happen--to
+know Gray's Inn?'
+
+'I daresay I have been there--years ago. Why?'
+
+'Oh! you haven't been there lately, have you?'
+
+'Not lately--not for forty years, or some such inconsiderable period.
+Why?'
+
+'I thought you might yourself have met Mr. Edmund Gray--been to his
+Chambers, perhaps.'
+
+Mr. Dering sat upright and laid his hand upon his letters. 'Checkley,'
+he said, 'I am always willing to make allowance for people in mental
+distress, but I think I have made allowance enough. Come to the point.
+Have you lost any money?'
+
+'No--no; not so bad as that--but bad enough. No, I couldn't afford to
+lose money. I haven't got enough to spare any. But I got a shock--a kind
+of stroke--partly because of the man I met, and partly because of the
+person with him.'
+
+'Oh! who was that? Are we arriving at something?'
+
+'I hadn't told you that. The person who was sitting at the open window
+with him, who came down-stairs with him, and walked out of the Square
+with him, was no other than your own ward, Miss Elsie Arundel herself!'
+
+'Oh! why not?' asked Mr. Dering carelessly. 'She told me yesterday, was
+it? that she knows him.'
+
+'If it had been anyone else she was with,' he replied, mixing up his
+grammar--'if it had been anyone else who was with her--I wouldn't have
+been surprised! But to see the two together. That gave me a turn that I
+can't get over.'
+
+'Still--why not? Miss Elsie Arundel has already told me that she is
+acquainted with Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+'What? She has told you--she has actually told you? Oh! what has she
+told you? Oh! Lord! Lord! What is a man to say or to do? She told
+you--what is best to do?' He wrung his hands in his distress and his
+perplexity.
+
+'I cannot understand, Checkley,' said Mr. Dering with emphasis, 'the
+reason for this display of excitement. Why should she not tell me or
+anybody else? Do you suppose that my ward is doing anything clandestine?
+She has told me that she is acquainted with this man. She asserts
+further--that we have made a great mistake about him. What she means, I
+cannot understand. She says, in fact, that this gentleman is a perfectly
+honourable person. It is possible that he has deceived her. It is also
+possible that the name of Edmund Gray has been wrongfully used in the
+papers which belong to the case. Certainly it was an Edmund Gray who
+endorsed the first cheque; and an Edmund Gray having an address at 22
+South Square whose name is connected with the later business. Well, we
+shall see presently.--When do you take out the warrant for the arrest
+of this man? By the way, Elsie Arundel implores me not to allow that
+step. When are you going to do it?'
+
+'This morning, I was going to do it. Everything is ready--but----'
+
+'But what?'
+
+'I can't do it now.'
+
+'The man is clean gone off his head.'
+
+'Leave it till to-morrow--only to-morrow, or Monday. Before then,
+something is certain to turn up. Oh! certain sure it is. Something must
+turn up.'
+
+'There is certainly something that you are keeping behind, Checkley.
+Well--wait till Monday. To-day is Saturday. He can't do very much
+mischief between this and Monday.--That's enough about Edmund Gray. Now,
+here is another point, to which I want a direct answer from you. My
+brother asserts, I believe on your authority, that Athelstan Arundel has
+been living in a low and profligate manner in some London suburb, and
+that he was in rags and poverty early this year. What is your authority
+for this?'
+
+'Why, I heard him confess--or not deny--that he'd been living in
+Camberwell in bad company. It was at the _Salutation_ I heard it. He
+didn't see me. I'd got my head behind a paper. He never denied it.'
+
+'Humph!--And about the rags?'
+
+'I don't know anything about the rags.'
+
+'Very likely there is as much foundation for the one charge as for the
+other. Three or four years ago, he was in America, to my knowledge. He
+wrote to me from America. I now learn, on the authority of his sister,
+that he only came back a month ago, and that he has been and is still in
+the service of an American paper. What have you got to say to that?'
+
+'Nothing. I don't feel as if I could say anything. It's all turned upsy
+down. That won't do, I suppose, no more than the rest.'
+
+'But, my friend, if that is true, your theory of conspiracy and
+confederacy, which you took so much pains to build up, falls to the
+ground as far as Athelstan is concerned.'
+
+'Yes.-- Oh! I haven't nothing to say.' It was a mark of the trouble
+which possessed him that his language reverted to that of his young
+days, before he had learned the art of correct speech from the copying
+of legal documents. He preserved the same attitude with bent head and
+hanging hands, a sad and pitiful object.
+
+'Since Athelstan was not in London during the months of March and April,
+he could have had no hand in the later forgeries. And it is acknowledged
+that the same hand was concerned both in the earlier and the later
+business.'
+
+'Yes--yes--the same hand. Oh! yes--the same hand,' he repeated with
+pathos unintelligible to his master. 'The same hand--the same hand;
+yes--yes--the same hand--that's the devil of it--same hand done it all.'
+
+'Then what becomes of your charge against my young Partner? You were
+extremely fierce about it. So was my brother. You had no proofs--nor had
+he. If the same hand was in both forgeries, it could not have been the
+hand of George Austin. What do you say to that?'
+
+'Nothing. I'm never going'--still standing hands hanging--'to say
+anything again as long as I live.'
+
+'But you were very fierce about it, Checkley. You must either find more
+proofs or withdraw your accusation.'
+
+'Oh! if that's all, I withdraw-- I withdraw everything.'
+
+'Why did you bring that charge then, Checkley? You've been making
+yourself very busy over the character of my Partner. You have permitted
+yourself to say things in the office before the clerks about him. If it
+turns out that he has had nothing to do with the business, you will be
+in a very serious position.'
+
+'I withdraw-- I withdraw everything,' the old clerk replied, but not
+meekly. He was prepared to withdraw, but only because he was forced.
+
+'Remember, too, that it was you who brought the charge against young
+Arundel.'
+
+'I withdraw-- I withdraw everything.'
+
+'You went so far as to remember--the other day--having seen him replace
+the notes in the safe. What do you say to that?'
+
+'I withdraw.'
+
+'But it was a direct statement--the testimony of an eyewitness. Was it
+true or not?--I don't know you this morning, Checkley. First, you appear
+shaking and trembling: then you tell me things which seem in no way to
+warrant so much agitation. Next, you withdraw an accusation which ought
+never to have been made except with the strongest proof. And now you
+wish to withdraw an alleged fact.'
+
+Checkley shook his head helplessly.
+
+'I acknowledge that the business remains as mysterious as before.
+Nothing has been found out. But there remains an evident and savage
+animosity on your part towards two young gentlemen in succession. Why?
+What have they done to you?'
+
+Checkley made reply in bold words, but still standing with hanging
+hands: 'I withdraw the animosity. I withdraw everything. As for young
+Arundel, he was a supercilious beast. We were dirt beneath his feet. The
+whole earth belonged to him. He used to imitate my ways of speaking, and
+he used to make the clerks laugh at me. I hated him then. I hate him
+still. It was fun to him that an old man, nigh seventy, with no
+education, shouldn't speak like a young gentleman of Oxford and
+Cambridge College. He used to stick his hat on the back of his head as
+if it was a crown, and he'd slam the door after him as if he was a
+Partner. I hated him. I was never so glad as when he ran away in a rage.
+He was coming between you and me, too.--Oh! I saw it. Cunning he was.
+Laying his lines for to come between you and me.'
+
+'Why--you were jealous, Checkley.'
+
+'I was glad when he ran away. And I always thought he'd done it, too. As
+for seeing him put the cheque back in the safe, I perceive now that I
+never did see him do it. Yet I seemed to think at the time that I'd
+remembered seeing him do a kind of a sort of a something like it. I now
+perceive that I was wrong. He never done it. He hadn't the wits to
+contrive it. That sort is never half sharp. Too fine gentleman for such
+a trick.--Oh! I know what you are going to say next. How about the
+second young fellow? I hate him too. I hate him because he's the same
+supercilious beast as the other, and because he's been able to get round
+you. He's carneyed you--no fool like an old fool--and flattered
+you--till you've made him a Partner. I've worked for you heart and soul
+for sixty years and more, and this boy comes in and cuts me out in a
+twelvemonth.'
+
+'Well! but Checkley--hang it!--I couldn't make you a Partner.'
+
+'You didn't want no Partners. You could do your work, and I could do
+mine and yours too, even if you did want to go asleep of an afternoon.'
+
+'This is grave, however. You hated Mr. Austin, and therefore you bring
+against him this foul charge. This is very grave, Checkley.'
+
+'No-- I thought he was guilty. I did, indeed. Everything pointed that
+way. And I don't understand about young Arundel, because he came into
+the _Salutation_ with the Cambridge gentleman who gets drunk there every
+night, and he said that he lived at Camberwell for eight years with bad
+company as I wouldn't name to you, sir. I thought he was guilty. I did,
+indeed.'
+
+'And now?'
+
+'Oh! now it is all over. Everything's upsy down. Nobody's guilty. I know
+now that he hasn't had anything to do with it. He's a young man of very
+slow intelligence and inferior parts. He couldn't have had anything to
+do with it. We ought to have known that.'
+
+'Well--but who has done it, after all?'
+
+'That's it.' Checkley was so troubled that he dropped into a chair in
+the presence of his master. 'That's it. Who's done it? Don't you know
+who done it? No-- I see you don't so much as suspect. No more don't I.
+Else--what to do--what to say--Lord only knows!' He turned and ran--he
+scuttled out of the room, banging the door behind him.
+
+'He's mad,' said Mr. Dering. 'Poor man! Age makes some men forgetful,
+but it has driven Checkley mad.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+THE THREE ACCOMPLICES
+
+
+On that same evening the three accomplices--probably on the proceeds of
+their iniquities--were dining together at the _Savoy_. After dinner they
+sat on the verandah overlooking the river and the embankment. 'Tis
+sweet, what time the evening shades prevail, while one is still in the
+stage of physical comfort and mental peace attendant upon an artistic
+little banquet, to view from the serene heights of a balcony at that
+hotel the unquiet figures of those who flit backwards and forwards
+below. They--alas!--have not dined so well, or they could not walk so
+fast, or drag their limbs so hopelessly, or lean over the wall so sadly.
+
+Elsie leaned her head upon her hands, looking down upon this scene,
+though not quite with these thoughts. Young ladies who are quite happy,
+and are going to be married next week, do not make these comparisons.
+Happiness is selfish. When one is quite happy, everybody else seems
+quite happy too--even Lazarus and the leper. We must never be happy if
+we do not wish to be selfish.
+
+Coffee was on the table. Athelstan had a cigar. They were all three
+silent. During dinner they had talked gaily, because everybody knows
+that you cannot talk with strange people listening. After dinner they
+sat in silence, because it is only when the waiters are gone that one is
+free to talk.
+
+'Elsie,' said George presently, 'you have something to tell
+us--something you have discovered. For my own part, since I handed the
+case over to anybody else, I feel as if I were not interested in it. But
+still, one would like to know--just for curiosity's sake--when Checkley
+is to be "run in."'
+
+'Yes,' said Elsie, 'I must tell you. Perhaps I ought to have told you
+before. Yet there was a reason. Now--you will be greatly astonished,
+George.'
+
+'Before you begin, Elsie '--Athelstan removed his cigar--'I must tell
+you that yesterday evening I, too, made a discovery--what the Americans
+call a pivotal discovery--a discovery that discovers everything. I
+should have told you last night, but you announced your communications
+for this evening, and I thought we would expose our discoveries at the
+same time.'
+
+'You have found out too!' Elsie cried. 'I see by your face that you
+have. Well, Athelstan, so much the better. Now, tell your discovery
+first, and I will follow.'
+
+'It is this. I have discovered Edmund Gray. I have sat with him and
+discoursed with him, in Freddy Carstone's Chambers. He came in, sat
+beside me, and conversed for more than an hour.'
+
+'Oh!' said Elsie. 'Then you know all--as much as I know.'
+
+'Observe,' George interposed, 'that I know nothing as yet.'
+
+'Wait a moment, George. Learn that I have myself known Mr. Edmund Gray
+for a fortnight. You will think, perhaps, that I ought to have told you
+before. Well--but there is a reason--besides, the way, to begin with,
+did not lie quite clear before me. Now the time has come when you should
+advise as to the best course to follow.'
+
+'You have certainly been more mysterious than any oracle, Elsie. Yet you
+will bear witness, if it comes to bearing witness, that I accepted your
+utterances and believed in them.'
+
+'You certainly did, George.--And now, Athelstan, tell him the whole.'
+
+'In one word then--Edmund Gray, the man we have been looking after so
+long, is none other than Edward Dering, of 12 New Square, Lincoln's Inn,
+Solicitor.'
+
+'I don't understand,' said George, bewildered. 'Say it all again.'
+
+Athelstan repeated his words.
+
+'That is my discovery, too,' said Elsie. 'Now you know all, as you
+understand.'
+
+'But I don't understand. How can one man be another man?'
+
+'I sat beside one man,' Athelstan added, 'for an hour and more; and lo!
+all the time he was another man.'
+
+'And still I am fogged. What does it mean?'
+
+'It means, George, what you would never suspect. The one man received me
+as a stranger. He knew nothing about me: he had never heard my name,
+even. Yet the other man knows me so well. It was very odd at first. I
+felt as if I was talking to a sleep-walker.'
+
+'Oh!' cried George, 'I know now. You have seen Mr. Dering in a kind of
+sleep-walking state-- I too have seen him thus. But he said nothing.'
+
+'You may call it sleep-walking if you like. But, George, there is
+another and a more scientific name for it. The old man is mad. He has
+fits of madness, during which he plays another part, under another name.
+Now, do you understand?'
+
+'Yes--but--is it possible?'
+
+'It is more than possible; it is an actual certainty. Wait. Let Elsie
+tell her story.'
+
+Then Elsie began, with a little air of triumph, because it is not given
+to every young lady to find out what all the men have failed to find.
+
+'Well--you see--I was always thinking over this business, and wondering
+why nothing was found out about it, and watching you look this way and
+that, and it occurred to me that the first thing of all was to find out
+this Mr. Edmund Gray and lay hands upon him. At first I thought I would
+just go and stand outside his door all day long and every day until he
+came. But that seemed a waste of time. So I remembered how you found his
+door open, and went in and spoke to the laundress. I thought that I
+would do the same thing, and sit down there and wait until he should
+come. But I was afraid to sit in the rooms of a strange man all
+alone--no, I could not do it. So I just found out the old woman--the
+laundress--as you did, George, and I gave her money, and she told me
+that Mr. Gray was at his Chambers almost every Saturday afternoon. Very
+well; if anybody chose to wait for him all Saturday afternoon, he would
+certainly be found. So on Saturday afternoon I took a cab and drove to
+Holborn, and got to the place before his arrival. But again, as it was
+not quite nice to stand at an open doorway in a public Square, I thought
+I would wait on the stairs. So I mounted--the doors were all
+closed--nobody was left in the place at all--I thought I should be
+perfectly safe and undisturbed, when I heard the noise of footsteps
+overhead--a tramp, tramp, tramp up and down, with every now and then a
+groan--like a hungry creature in a cage. This kept on for a long time,
+and frightened me horribly. I was still more frightened when a door
+overhead opened and shut and the footsteps came down-stairs. They
+belonged to a man--an elderly man--who seemed as much frightened at
+seeing me as I was at seeing him. He asked me whether I wanted any one;
+and when I said I wanted Mr. Edmund Gray, he said that he was a friend
+of Mr. Gray's, and that, since I was a friend too, I might act for
+Edmund Gray and lend him some money. He looked desperately poor and
+horribly hungry and thin and shabby, the poor old man!'
+
+'So you acted for Edmund Gray. That was old Langhorne. He is a
+barrister, who lives in the garret, and is horribly down on his
+luck.--Go on.'
+
+'Poor Elsie!' said George. 'Think of her, all alone on the staircase!'
+
+'When he was gone, there was no sound at all. The place was perfectly
+quiet. The time passed so slowly--oh! so slowly. At last, however, I
+heard a step. It came up the stairs. Oh! my heart began to beat. Suppose
+it should be Mr. Edmund Gray. Suppose it was some other person. Suppose
+it was some horror of a man! But I had not long to wait, because Mr.
+Edmund Gray himself stood on the landing. He stared at me, rather
+surprised to find a young lady on the stairs, but he showed no sign of
+recognition whatever. I was a complete stranger to him.'
+
+'And was the man Mr. Dering?'
+
+'He was--Mr. Dering. There was just the least little change in him. He
+wore his coat open instead of buttoned. He had no gloves, his hat was
+not pulled over his eyes, and his face was somehow lighter and brighter
+than usual.'
+
+'That is so,' said Athelstan. 'Exactly with these little changes he
+presented himself to me.'
+
+'Perhaps there is another man in the world exactly like him.'
+
+'Futile remark!--Go on, Elsie.'
+
+'Then I guessed in a moment what it meant. I stepped forward and asked
+him if he was Mr. Edmund Gray. And then I followed him into his
+rooms.--George, there is no manner of doubt whatever. Mr. Dering has
+periods, whether regular or not I cannot tell, when he loses himself and
+becomes in imagination another man. He is mad, if you like, but there is
+method in his madness. The other man is just himself turned inside out.
+Mr. Dering believes in the possible wickedness of everybody: the other
+man believes in the actual goodness of every man. Mr. Dering considers
+Property the only stable foundation of Society: the other man considers
+Property the root of all evil. Mr. Dering is hard and jealous: the other
+man is full of geniality and benevolence. Mr. Dering is Justice: the
+other man is Mercy.'
+
+'Very neatly put, Elsie. There is quite an eighteenth-century balance
+about your sentences and sentiments. So far'--Athelstan contributed his
+confirmation--'so far as I could judge, nothing could be more true. I
+found my man the exact opposite of himself.'
+
+'Can such a thing be possible? If I were to speak to him, would he not
+know me?'
+
+'You forget, George. You have seen him in that condition, and he did not
+know you.'
+
+'Nothing is more common'--Athelstan the Journalist began to draw upon
+the encyclopaedic memory which belongs to his profession--'than such a
+forgetfulness of self. Have you ever been into a Lunatic Asylum? I
+have--for professional purposes. I have discoursed with the patients,
+and been instructed by the physicians. Half the time many of the
+patients are perfectly rational: during the other half they seem to
+assume another mind with other memories. It is not real possession, as
+the ancients called it, because they never show knowledge other than
+what they have learned before. Thus, a sane man who cannot draw would
+never in insanity become an artist. So Mr. Dering, when he is mad,
+brings the same logical power and skill to bear upon a different set of
+maxims and opinions. Said a physician to me at this asylum of which I
+speak: "There are thousands of men and women, but especially men, who
+are mad every now and then, and don't know it. Most of the crimes are, I
+believe, committed in moments of madness. A young fellow steals
+money--it is because at the moment he is so mad that he even persuades
+himself that borrowing is not stealing: that he is only borrowing: that
+he can get it back, and put it back before it is found out. What is
+uncontrollable rage but sudden madness? There are the men who know that
+they are mad on some point or other, and cunningly hide it, and are
+never found out. And there are the men who are mad and don't know it. In
+their mad times they commit all kinds of extravagances and follies, yet
+somehow they escape detection." So he talked; and he told me of a man
+who was a lawyer in one town with a wife and family, and also a lawyer
+in another with a different wife and family. But one lawyer never found
+out the other; and the thing was only discovered when the man got a
+paralytic stroke and died in a kind of bewilderment, because, when the
+time came for him to be the other man, he found himself lying in a
+strange bedroom with a strange family round him. I had long forgotten
+the asylum. I did the place for my paper three or four years ago, and
+scored by the description. Since last night I have been recalling my
+experience and applying it. You see there can never be any physical
+change. This is no Hyde and Jekyll business. Whatever happens must be
+conducted with the same body and the same mind. The same processes of
+mind in which the man is trained remain, but his madness requires a new
+setting.'
+
+'One cannot understand,' said Elsie.
+
+'No. But then one cannot understand everything. That's the real beauty
+of this world: we are planted in the midst of things: we can give names
+to them--Adam began that way, didn't he?--but we can't understand any of
+them; and most people think that when we have given a name we have
+succeeded in understanding. Well, Elsie--we don't understand. But we may
+find out something. I take it that the other man grew up by degrees in
+his brain, so that there is no solution in the continuity of thought and
+recollection. The Edmund Gray developed himself. He has been developed
+for nearly ten years, since he has occupied the same Chambers all the
+time.'
+
+'But about the forgeries?' George sprang to his feet. 'I declare,' he
+cried, 'that I had quite forgotten the real bearing on our case.'
+
+'Edmund Gray,' said Elsie, 'says that his own lawyer who manages his
+affairs is Edward Dering. If he were to write letters while Edmund Gray,
+he would not impose upon Edward Dering.'
+
+'He cannot write to two men,' said Athelstan. 'There must be a
+border-land between the waking and the dreaming, when the two spirits of
+Edmund Gray and Edward Dering contend for the mastery, or when they
+command each other--when Edmund Gray endorses cheques and Edward Dering
+writes letters and conducts transfers for his client--his
+double--himself.'
+
+'I have seen him in such a state,' said George. 'At the time I never
+suspected anything but a passing trouble of mind, which caused him to be
+so wrapped up in his thoughts as not to be able to distinguish anything.
+He was then, I doubt not now, carrying out the instructions of Edmund
+Gray, or he was Edmund Gray acting for himself. Checkley whispered not
+to disturb him. He said that he had often seen him so.'
+
+'I have never tried to understand,' said Elsie. 'But I saw that Edmund
+Gray was Mr. Dering gone mad, and that he himself, and nobody else, was
+the perpetrator of all these forgeries; and I have been trying to
+discover the best way--the kindest way to him--the surest way for us, of
+getting the truth known.--George, this is the secret of my mysterious
+movements. This is why I have not given you a single evening for a
+whole fortnight. Every evening--both Sundays--I have spent with this
+dear old man. He is the most delightful--the most gentle--the most
+generous--old man that you ever saw. He is full of ideas--oh! quite
+full--and they carry you out of yourself, until you awake next morning
+to find that they are a dream. I have fallen in love with him. I have
+had the most charming fortnight--only one was always rather afraid that
+he might come to himself, which would be awkward.'
+
+'Well, Elsie, have you found a way?'
+
+'I think I have. First, I have discovered that when he is surrounded
+with things that remind him of Edmund Gray, he remains Edmund Gray.
+Next, I have found out that I can, by talking to him even at his office,
+when he has his papers before him, turn him into Edmund Gray.'
+
+'You are a witch, Elsie.'
+
+'She is,' said George, looking at her in the foolish lover's way. 'You
+see what she has turned me into--a long time ago, and she has never
+turned me back again.'
+
+'I have been thinking too,' said Athelstan. 'For our purposes, it would
+be enough to prove the identity of Edmund Gray and Edward Dering. That
+explains the resemblance of the handwriting and of the endorsement. My
+commissionaire's recollection of the man also identifies the cheque as
+drawn by himself for himself under another name. It explains the
+presence of the notes in the safe. It also shows that the long series of
+letters which passed between him and the broker were written by himself
+for himself. Here, however, is a difficulty. I can understand Edward
+Dering believing himself to be Edmund Gray, because I have seen it. But
+I cannot understand Edward Dering believing himself to be the Solicitor
+to Edmund Gray and writing at his command.'
+
+'But I have seen him in that condition,' said Elsie. 'It was while he
+was changing from one to the other. He sat like one who listens. I think
+that Edmund Gray was at his elbow speaking to him. I think I could make
+him write a letter by instruction from Edmund Gray. That he should
+believe himself acting for a client in writing to the broker is no more
+wonderful than that he should believe himself another man altogether.'
+
+'Show me, if you can, the old man acting for an imaginary client.
+Meantime, I mentioned the point as a difficulty. Prove, however, to Mr.
+Dering and to the others concerned that he is Edmund Gray, and all is
+proved. And this we can do by a host of witnesses.'
+
+'I want more than this, Athelstan,' said Elsie. 'It would still be open
+to the enemy to declare that George, or you, or I, had made use of his
+madness for our own purposes. I want a history of the whole case written
+out by Edmund Gray himself--a thing that we can show to Mr. Dering and
+to everybody else. But I dread his discovery. Already he is suspicious
+and anxious. I sometimes think that he is half conscious of his
+condition. We must break it to him as gently as we can. But the shock
+may kill him. Yet there is no escape. If the forgeries were known only
+to ourselves, we might keep the discovery a secret; and only if
+necessary--but it would not be necessary--keep some sort of watch over
+him and warn the Bank. But Checkley has told the clerks and the people
+at the Bank, and there are ourselves to think of and my mother and
+Hilda.--No; we must let them all know.'
+
+'And if one may mention one's self,' said Athelstan, 'my own little
+difficulty presses. Because, you see, I don't know how long I may be
+kept here. Perhaps to-morrow I might go on to St. Petersburg or to
+Pekin. Before I go, Elsie, I confess that I should like my mother to
+understand that--that she was a little hasty--that is all.'
+
+'You are not going to St. Petersburg, brother.' Elsie took his hand.
+'You are not going to leave us anymore. You are going to stay. I have
+made another discovery.'
+
+'Pray, if one may ask----'
+
+'Oh! you may ask. I saw a letter to-day--Mr. Dering showed it to me. It
+was written from the States three or four years ago. It showed where you
+were at that time and showed me more, Athelstan--it showed me how you
+lost the pile of money that you made over that silver mine--you
+remember, Athelstan?'
+
+He made no reply.
+
+'Oh! do you think that I am going to accept this sacrifice? George, you
+do not know. The donor of that great sum of money which Mr. Dering held
+for me--we have often wondered who it was. I have only found out
+to-day--it was Athelstan. He gave me all he had for such a trifling
+thing--only because I would not believe that he was a villain--all he
+had in the world--and went out again into the cold. He said he dropped
+his money down a gully or a grating on the prairie--some nonsense. And
+he sent it all to me, George.--What shall we do?'
+
+'Is this really true, Athelstan? Did you really give up all this money
+to Elsie?'
+
+'She says so.'
+
+'It is quite true, George. I saw the letter--Mr. Dering showed it to
+me--in which he sent that money home, and begged Mr. Dering to take care
+of it, and to give it to me on the day when I should be one-and-twenty.
+He cannot deny it. Look at him. He blushes--he is ashamed--he hangs his
+head--he blows tobacco-smoke about in clouds, hoping to hide his red
+cheeks. And he talks of going on to St. Petersburg, when we know this
+secret, and have got the money! What do you call this conduct, George?'
+
+'Athelstan--there is no word for it. But you must have it back. You
+must, and shall. There can be no discussion about it. And there is not
+another man in the world, I believe, who would have done it.'
+
+'Nonsense. I should only have lost it, if I had kept it,' Athelstan
+replied after the Irish fashion.
+
+'You hear, Athelstan. It is yours. There can be no discussion. That's
+what I like a man for. While we women are all talking and disputing, the
+man puts down his foot and says: "There can be no discussion." Then we
+all stop, and the right thing is done. It is yours, brother; and you
+shall have it, and you shall stay at home with us always and always.'
+She laid her hand upon his shoulder, and her arm round his neck,
+caressing him with hand and voice.
+
+The man who had wandered alone for eight years was not accustomed to
+sisterly caresses. They moved him. The thing itself moved him.
+
+'All this belongs to another chapter,' he said huskily. 'We will talk of
+it afterwards, when the business in hand is despatched.
+
+'Well, then--that is agreed. You are to have your money back: my mother
+is to take her suspicions back: Mr. Dering is to have his certificates
+back and his dividends: Checkley is to take his lies back: Sir Samuel is
+to have his charges back: George and I are going to have our peace of
+mind back. And we are all going to live happy ever afterwards.'
+
+'As for Wednesday now,' said George. 'It is not an unimportant day for
+us, you know.'
+
+'Everything is ready. On Sunday morning my mother is always at home
+before Church. I will see her then, and acquaint her with the news that
+the wedding will take place as originally proposed, at her house. This
+will astonish her very much, and she will become angry and polite and
+sarcastic. Then I shall tell her to prepare not only for a wedding
+feast, but also for a great, a very great surprise. And I shall also
+inform her that I shall be given away by my brother. And then--then--if
+I know my mother aright, she will become silent. I shall do that
+to-morrow morning.--In the evening, George, you will get your best-man,
+and I will get your sisters, my bridesmaids, and we will come here, or
+go to Richmond or somewhere--and have dinner and a cheerful evening.--Am
+I arranging things properly?'
+
+'Quite properly. Pray go on.'
+
+'Sunday afternoon I have promised to spend with my master--Edmund Gray.
+He is going to read me a new Paper he has just finished, in which he
+shows that Property can be destroyed by a painless process--Athelstan,
+put all your money into your pocket and keep it there--in less than a
+twelvemonth, and with it all crime--all sweating, all injustice.--No,
+Athelstan, he is not mad. When he argues on this theme he is persuasive
+and eloquent. He convinces everybody. I shall hear him out, and then I
+shall try to make him write down all that has happened. If we can only
+get such a confession, it would be better than anything else. But it may
+be difficult. He does not like being questioned about himself. If I do
+succeed--I don't know quite what I ought to do next. He must be told.
+Some time or other he must have the truth. I thought of asking all the
+people mentioned to meet at his office on Monday morning at noon when
+Mr. Dering is always himself. On Sunday I would not. He has to address
+his people on Sunday evening. Let him do so undisturbed. I will leave
+him in happiness that one night longer. But you two--you will be
+anxious. Come on Sunday evening--between eight and nine--to the Hall of
+Science. Then you will hear him and see me. And I will let you know how
+I have prospered.'
+
+'Sunday evening,' said George. 'Monday comes next, then Tuesday, and
+before Wednesday, my Elsie, the character of these two convicts has to
+be completely whitewashed, even to the satisfaction of Hilda herself.
+Are we not running it pretty close?'
+
+'Unbeliever! Doubter! I tell you that you shall be married with all your
+friends round you, and that Athelstan shall give me away. And you shall
+go away on your holiday with a quiet heart and nothing to trouble you.
+What a foolish boy not to be able to trust his bride even for such a
+simple thing as getting a confession out of a madman!'
+
+'Do you sport a crest, old man?' asked Athelstan.
+
+'I believe there is some kind of a sort of a thing somewhere around. But
+crests are foolishness.'
+
+'Not always. Take a new one, George--a real one. Stamp it on your spoons
+and forks and in your books and on your carriage. Let it be simply the
+words, "Dux Femina Facti."'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+ELSIE AND HER MOTHER
+
+
+'Can you spare me a few minutes, mother?'
+
+Mrs. Arundel looked up from the desk where she was writing a letter, and
+saw her daughter standing before her. She started and changed colour,
+but quickly recovered, and replied coldly: 'I did not hear you come in,
+Elsie. What do you want with me?'
+
+Outside, the bells were ringing for Church: it was a quarter to eleven:
+Mrs. Arundel was already dressed for Church. She was one of those who do
+not see any incongruity between Church and a heart full of animosities.
+She was bitter against her daughter, and hard towards her son, and she
+hated her son-in-law elect with all the powers of her passionate nature.
+But, my brothers, what an array of bare benches should we see in every
+place of worship were those only admitted who came with hearts of
+charity and love!
+
+'Do you wish to keep me long, Elsie? If so, we will sit down. If not, I
+am ready for Church, and I do not like to arrive late. People in our
+position should show a good example.'
+
+'I do not think that I shall keep you very long. But if you sit down,
+you will be so much more comfortable.'
+
+'Comfort, Elsie, you have driven out of this house.'
+
+'I will bring it back with me, then. On Monday evening, mother, I am
+coming back.'
+
+'Oh! What do you mean, child? Has the blow really fallen? I heard that
+it was impending. Is the young man--is he--a prisoner?'
+
+'No, mother. You are quite mistaken. You have been mistaken all along.
+Yet I shall come back on Monday.'
+
+'Alone, then?'
+
+'I shall leave it to you whether I come back alone, or with the two men
+whom I most regard of all the world--my lover and my brother.'
+
+'You know my opinions, Elsie. There has been no change in them. There
+can be none.'
+
+'Wednesday is my wedding day.'
+
+'I am not interested in that event, Elsie. After your wedding with such
+a man, against the opinions, the wishes, the commands of all whom you
+are bound to respect, I can only say that you are no longer my
+daughter.'
+
+'Oh! How can you be so fixed in such a belief? Mother, let me make one
+more appeal to your better feelings. Throw off these suspicions. Believe
+me, they are baseless. There is not the shadow of a foundation for this
+ridiculous structure they have raised. Consider. It is now--how
+long?--three weeks since they brought this charge, and they have proved
+nothing--absolutely nothing. If you would only be brought to see on what
+false assumptions the whole thing rests.'
+
+'On solid foundations--hard facts--I want no more.'
+
+'If I could prove to you that Athelstan was in America until a month
+ago.'
+
+'Unhappy girl! He is deceiving you. He has been living for eight years
+in profligacy near London. Elsie, do not waste my time. It should be
+enough for me that my son-in-law, Sir Samuel Dering, a man of the
+clearest head and widest experience, is convinced that it is impossible
+to draw any other conclusions.'
+
+'It is enough for me,' Elsie rejoined quickly, 'that my heart tells me
+that my brother and my lover cannot be such creatures.'
+
+'You have something more to say, I suppose.' Mrs. Arundel buttoned her
+gloves. The clock was now at five minutes before eleven.
+
+'Yes. If it is no use at all trying to appeal to----'
+
+'No use at all,' Mrs. Arundel snapped. 'I am not disposed for
+sentimental nonsense.'
+
+'I am sorry, because you will be sorry afterwards. Well, then, I have
+come to tell you that I have made all the preparations, with George's
+assistance, for Wednesday.'
+
+'Oh!'
+
+'Yes. The wedding cake will be sent in on Tuesday. My own dress--white
+satin, of course, very beautiful--is finished and tried on. It will be
+sent in on Monday evening. The two bridesmaids' dresses will also come
+on Monday. George has arranged at the Church. He has ordered the
+carriages and the bouquets and has got the ring. The presents you have
+already in the house. We shall be married at three. There will be a
+little gathering of the cousins after the wedding, and you will give
+them a little simple dinner in the evening, which will, I daresay, end
+with a little dance. George has also seen to the red cloth for the steps
+and all that. Oh! And on Tuesday evening you will give a big dinner
+party to everybody.'
+
+'Are you gone quite mad, Elsie?'
+
+'Not mad at all, my dear mother. It is Sir Samuel who is mad, and has
+driven you and Hilda mad. Oh! everything will come off exactly as I tell
+you. Perhaps you don't believe it.'
+
+'You are mad, Elsie. You are certainly mad.'
+
+'No, my dear mother, I am not mad. Oh! it is so absurd, if it were not
+so serious. But we are determined, George and I, not to make this
+absurdity the cause of lasting bitterness. Therefore, my dear mother, I
+do not want to be married from my brother's lodgings, but from your
+house. You will come to my wedding, I prophesy, full of love--full of
+love'--her eyes filled with tears--'for me and for George--and for
+Athelstan--full of love and of sorrow and of self-reproach. I am to be
+given away by my brother--you will come, I say, with a heart full of
+love and of pity for him.'
+
+Mrs. Arundel gazed at her stonily.
+
+'Everybody will be there, and you will receive all your friends after
+the wedding. I have taken care of the invitations. Hilda will be there
+too, horribly ashamed of herself. It will be a lovely wedding; and we
+shall go away with such good wishes from yourself as you would not in
+your present state of mind believe possible. Go now to Church, my dear
+mother, prepared for a happy and a joyful day.'
+
+'I sometimes believe, Elsie,' said Mrs. Arundel, more coldly still,
+'that you have been deprived of your senses. So far from this, I shall
+not be present at your wedding. I will not interfere with your holding
+your marriage here, if you like; you may fill the house with your
+friends, if you please. I shall myself take shelter with my more dutiful
+daughter. I refuse to meet my unhappy son; I will not be a consenting
+party to the tie which will entail a lifelong misery----'
+
+'My dear mother--you will do everything exactly as I have
+prophesied.--Now, do not say any more, because it will only make our
+reconciliation a little more difficult. I ought to go to Church on the
+Sunday before my wedding if any day in the week. If you would only
+recover your trust in my lover's honour, I could go to Church with you
+and kneel beside you. But without that trust---- Oh! go, my dear mother.
+You will find my prophecy come true, word for word--believe me or not.'
+
+Mrs. Arundel went to Church. During the service she felt strange
+prickings of foreboding and of compunction and of fear, anxiety, and
+hope, with a little sadness, caused by the communication and the
+assurances of her daughter. Even in such a case as this, the thinker of
+evil is sometimes depressed by the arrival of the prophet of good. When
+Mrs. Arundel came away from Church, she became aware that she had not
+heard one single word of the sermon. Not that she wanted very much to
+hear the sermon, any more than the First or Second Lesson--all three
+being parts of the whole which every person of respectability must hear
+once a week. Only it was disquieting to come away after half an hour's
+discourse with the feeling that she did not remember a single syllable
+of it. She took her early dinner with the other daughter, to whom she
+communicated Elsie's remarkable conduct, and her prediction and her
+invitation. It was decided between them that her brain was affected--no
+doubt, only for a time--and that it was not expedient for them to
+interfere; that it was deplorable, but a part of what might have been
+expected; and that time would show. Meanwhile, Sir Samuel reported that
+it had been resolved to get a warrant for the arrest of the man Edmund
+Gray, who hitherto had eluded all attempts to find him.
+
+'He appears to be a real person,' the knight concluded--'an elderly man,
+whose character, so far as we can learn, is good. It is, however,
+significant that nothing has been discovered concerning his profession
+or calling. That is mysterious. For my own part, I like to know how a
+man earns his daily bread. I have even consulted a person connected with
+the Police. Nothing is known or suspected about him. But we shall see as
+soon as he is before the magistrate.'
+
+'And Wednesday is so close! Oh! my dear Sir Samuel, hurry them up. Even
+at the last moment--even at the risk of a terrible scandal--if Elsie
+could be saved!'
+
+'Well,' said Sir Samuel, 'it is curious--I don't understand it--we had
+arranged for the application for a warrant for Friday morning. Would you
+believe it? That old donkey Checkley won't go for it--wants it put
+off--says he thinks it will be of no use. What with this young man
+Austin at first, and this old man Checkley next, we seem in a conspiracy
+to defeat the ends of justice. But to-morrow I shall go myself to my
+brother. It is time this business was finished.'
+
+'Yes--yes,' said Mrs. Arundel. 'And my dear Sir Samuel, before
+Wednesday--let it be before Wednesday, I implore you, for all our
+sakes!'
+
+'My dear Madam, it shall be to-morrow.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At noon, Elsie returned to Half Moon Street, where George was waiting
+for her.
+
+'I have made one more attempt,' she said, with tears; 'but it was
+useless. Her heart is as hard about you as ever it was about Athelstan.
+It is wonderful that she should have so little faith. I suppose it comes
+of going into the City and trying to make money. Edmund Gray would say
+so. I would have told her all, but for the old man's sake. He knows
+nothing: he suspects nothing; and I want to make the case so complete
+that there shall be no doubt--none whatever--possible in the minds of
+the most suspicious. Even Checkley must be satisfied. I shall finish the
+work, I hope, this afternoon-- Oh! George--is it possible? Is our
+wedding day next Wednesday--actually next Wednesday? And the hateful
+cloud shall be blown away, and--and--and----'
+
+For the rest of this chapter look into the book of holy kisses, where
+you will very likely find it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+PLENARY CONFESSION
+
+
+Early on Sunday afternoon Elsie started upon her mission. She was
+anxious, because she was entering upon a most important business, and
+one requiring the greatest delicacy in the handling. It was enough--more
+than enough--that her witnesses should be able, one after the other, to
+identify Mr. Dering with Mr. Edmund Gray: but how much more would her
+hands be strengthened if she could produce a full and complete narrative
+of the whole affair, written by the hand which had done it all? To get
+that narrative was her business with the Master that afternoon. But she
+was hopeful, partly because she knew her power over the philosopher; and
+partly because, like every woman who respects herself, she had always
+been accustomed to get exactly what she wanted, either by asking,
+coaxing, flattering, or taking.
+
+The Master was waiting for her--one should never keep a Master
+waiting--and she was a little late: he was impatient: he had so much to
+talk about and to teach: one point suggested another in his mind: so
+much to say: he grudged the least delay: he walked about the room
+chafing because the hour appointed was already five minutes in the past:
+he would scold her: she must really learn to be punctual: they had only
+about five short hours before them for all he had to say. Was this the
+zeal of a student? But at that point she opened the door and ran in,
+breathless, smiling, eager, holding out both her hands, a dainty
+delicate maiden all his own--his disciple--his daughter--the daughter of
+the New Humanity--and he forgot his irritation, and took her hands in
+his and kissed her forehead. 'Child,' he sighed, 'you are late. But
+never mind. You are here. Why, you have grown so precious to me that I
+cannot bear you to be a minute late. It is such a happiness--such a joy
+in the present--such a promise for the future--that I have such a
+disciple! Now sit down--take off your bonnet. I have put a chair for you
+at the window--and a table for you to write. Here is your
+note-book.--Now--you have thought over what I taught you last?--That is
+well. Let us resume at the point where we left off--the rise of the
+co-operative spirit, which is the rise of the New Humanity.'
+
+He talked for two hours--two long eloquent hours: he walked about the
+room: or he stopped before his disciple emphasising with the forefinger
+of admonition--repeating--illustrating by anecdote and memory--he had a
+prodigious memory. The Scholar listened intelligently. Sometimes she
+asked a question: sometimes she made notes. You must not think that she
+was a sham scholar; her interest in the Master's system was not
+simulated. Above all things, she loved to hear this enthusiast talk--who
+would not love to hear of the New Jerusalem? Always he made her heart to
+glow with the Vision that he conjured up before her eyes of a world
+where there should be no more sorrow nor crying nor any more pain, nor
+any of the former things. He made her actually see--what others only
+read of--the Four-square City itself with its gates open night and day,
+its jasper walls, and its twelve foundations of precious stones.--'Why,'
+he said, 'the gates are open night and day because there is no Property
+to defend; and the walls are of jasper because it is the most beautiful
+of minerals, and because it can be polished like a mirror, so that the
+country around is reflected on its surface, which shows that it all
+belongs to the City; and the precious stones are the twelve cardinal
+virtues of Humanity, on which the order of the future shall
+rest--namely, Faith, Brotherly Love, Obedience, Patience, Loyalty,
+Constancy, Chastity, Courage, Hope, Simplicity, Tenderness, and
+Industry. It is an allegory--the whole book is an allegory--of
+Humanity.' And she saw, beside the City, the river of life with the tree
+of life for the healing of all nations.
+
+Then she clean forgot the purpose for which she had come: she was
+carried away: her heart beat--her cheek glowed. Oh! Lovely Vision! Oh!
+Great and glorious Prophet! He made a Heaven, and placed it on this
+earth. Now the mind of man can conceive of no other happiness but that
+which humanity can make out of the actual materials found upon this
+earthly ball. The Heaven, even of the most spiritual, is a glorified
+world; the Hell, even of the most gentle, is a world of fleshly pain: no
+other Heaven attracts: no other Hell terrifies: there is no promise, or
+hope, or prospect, or inheritance that man desires or poet can feign or
+visionary can preach but an earthly Heaven: it must be a Heaven
+containing sunshine and shower, kindly fruits in due season, love and
+joy and music and art, and men and women who love each other and labour
+for each other. Such a world--such a New Jerusalem--the Master drew
+every day; he loved it, and lingered over it; he painted over and over
+again this splendid Vision. He was never tired of painting it, or his
+hearers of gazing upon it. But to-day he spoke with greater fulness,
+more clearly, more brilliantly, more joyously than ever. Was the Prophet
+really a man of seventy years and more? For his mind was young--the
+enthusiast, like the poet, never grows old. His voice might have been
+the voice of a boy--a marvellous boy--a Shelley--preaching the glories
+of the world when Property should be no more.
+
+He ceased. And the Vision which he had raised quickly faded away. They
+were back again in the dingy old Inn; they were among the solicitors and
+the money-lenders and the young fellows who have their Chambers in the
+place. The Inn is about as far from the New Jerusalem as any place under
+the sun; it is made over bodily and belongs--every stair--every
+chamber--to the interests of Property.
+
+He ceased his prophecy, and began to argue, to reason, to chop logic,
+which was not by any means so interesting. At last he stopped this as
+well. 'You have now, dear child,' he said, 'heard quite as much as you
+can profitably absorb. I have noticed for the last two or three minutes
+your eyes wandering and your attention wearied. Let us stop--only
+remember what I have just said about the diseases of the Body Politic.
+They are akin to those that affect the human body. By comparing the two
+we may learn not only cause, but also effect. We have our rheumatisms,
+gouts, asthmas, neuralgias, colds and coughs, fevers and other ills. So
+has the Body Politic. Whence come our diseases? From the ignorance, the
+follies, the vices, the greed and gluttony of our forefathers. So those
+of the Body Politic. Take away Property and you destroy greed. With
+that, half the diseases vanish.'
+
+Elsie heard and inclined her head. It did occur to her that perhaps
+Property in the Body Politic might be represented by food in the Body
+Human, but she forbore. The Master was one who did not invite argument.
+Nearly all the great Teachers of the world, if you think of it, have
+conveyed their wisdom in maxims and aphorisms.
+
+He took out his watch. 'It is nearly four,' he said. 'Shall we go on to
+the Hall?'
+
+'Not yet. There is no need for us to be there before six. We have two
+good hours before us. Let us use them more pleasantly than in sitting
+alone in the Hall--you must own that it is stuffy. We will talk about
+other things--about ourselves--not about me, because I am quite an
+insignificant person, but about you, dear Master.' She was now about to
+enter upon her plan of duplicity. She felt horribly ashamed, but it had
+to be done. She strengthened herself: she resolved: she suppressed the
+voice of conscience.
+
+'About me?' asked the Master. 'But what is there to talk about?'
+
+'Oh! there is ever so much.' She took his right hand in her own and held
+it, knowing that this little caress pleased and moved him. 'Master--what
+a wonderful chance it was that brought me here! I can never sufficiently
+wonder at it. I have told George--George Austin--my lover, you know: and
+Athelstan--he is my brother.' She looked at him sharply, but there was
+no sign of recognition of those two names. Edmund Gray had never heard
+of either. 'I have told them about you and of your great work, and how
+you are teaching me and everything. But when they ask me who you are,
+where you have lived, and all about you, I can tell them nothing. Oh! I
+know it matters nothing about me and my own friends; but, my dear
+Master, we have to think of the future. When the Cause has spread, and
+spread, and spread, till it covers the whole world, people will want to
+know all about the man who first preached its principles. Who will be
+able to tell them? No one. You are alone; you have no wife or children.
+Your name will remain for ever attached to the Cause itself. But
+you--you--the man--what will you be? Nothing. Nothing but a name. You
+ought to write an autobiography.'
+
+'I have sometimes thought I would do so'--his face became troubled;
+'but--but----'
+
+'But you are always occupied with working for the world. You have no
+time, of course. I quite understand that; and it worries you--does it
+not?--to be called upon to turn your thoughts from the present back to
+the past.'
+
+'Yes--yes; it does--it does. Elsie, you exactly express the
+difficulty.'
+
+'And yet--you must own--you must confess--it is natural for the world to
+want to know all about you. Who was the great Edmund Gray? Why, they
+will want to know every particular--every single particular: where you
+were born--where you were educated--who were your masters--what led you
+to the study of Humanity and its problems--where you lived; if you were
+married and to whom--what you read--who were your friends. Oh! there is
+no end to the curiosity of the world about their great men.'
+
+'Perhaps.' He rose and looked out of the window. When men are greatly
+pleased they must always be moving. 'I confess that I have never thought
+of these things at all. Yet, to be sure--you are right.' He murmured and
+purred.
+
+'No, but I have thought of them, ever since I had the happiness of being
+received by you. Master, will you trust me? Shall I become your
+biographer? You cannot find one more loving. You have only to give me
+the materials. Now--let me ask you a few questions just for a
+beginning--just to show you the kind of thing I shall want to know.'
+
+He laughed and sat down again. 'Why, my life has not got in it one
+single solitary incident, or episode, or adventure. There are no
+misfortunes in it. There is not such a thing as a disease in it. I have
+always been perfectly well. There is not even a love episode or a
+flirtation in it. There are not even any religious difficulties in it.
+Without love, ill-health, misfortune, religious doubts--where is the
+interest in the life, and what is there to tell?'
+
+'Well, a life that has no incident in it must be the life of a student.
+It is only a student who never falls in love.'
+
+'Or,' said the Philosopher, 'a money-getter.'
+
+'Happily, there are not many students or we women should be disconsolate
+indeed. Do you know, Master, that you can only be excused such a
+dreadful omission in your history by that one plea? Sit down again,
+Master,' for again he was walking about restlessly, partly disturbed by
+her questions, and partly flattered and pleased by her reasons. She
+opened her note-book and began to ask questions about himself--very
+simple questions, such as would not introduce any disturbing points. He
+answered readily, and she observed with interest that he gave correctly
+the facts of his own--Edward Dering's--history.
+
+He was born, he said, in that class which upholds Property--the Better
+Class--meaning the Richer. His father was a wealthy solicitor, who lived
+in Bedford Row. He was born in the year 1815--Waterloo year. He was the
+eldest of a family of five--three daughters and two sons. He was
+educated at Westminster. On leaving school, his father offered him the
+advantage of a University course, but he refused, being anxious to begin
+as early as possible his life's work--as he thought--in the defence of
+Property. He was therefore articled to his father; and at the age of
+twenty-two he passed his examination and was admitted.
+
+'And then you were young--you were not yet a student--you went into
+society. You saw girls and danced with them. Yet you never fell in love,
+and were never married. How strange! I thought everybody wanted love. A
+man's real life only begins, I have always been taught, with love and
+marriage. Love means everything.'
+
+'To you, my child, no doubt it does. Such as you are born for love,' he
+added gallantly. 'Venus herself smiles in your eyes and sits upon your
+lips. But as for me I was always studious more or less, though I did not
+for long find out my true line. I worked hard--I went out very little. I
+was cold by nature, perhaps. I had no time to think about such things.
+Now, when it is too late, I regret the loss of the experience. Doubtless
+if I had that experience I should have gained greatly in the power of
+persuasion. I should have a much more potent influence over the women
+among my hearers. If I were a married man I should be much more in
+sympathy with them.'
+
+'No--n--no.' Elsie hesitated a little. 'Perhaps women--especially the
+younger kind--get on better with unmarried men. However, you were not
+married.'
+
+'At first, then, I was a solicitor with my father. Then--presently----'
+His face put on the troubled look again.
+
+'You continued,' Elsie interrupted quickly, 'to work at your profession,
+though you took up other studies.'
+
+'No--no--not quite that.'
+
+'You began to take up Social problems, and gradually abandoned your
+profession.'
+
+'No--no--not that either--quite.'
+
+'You found you could not reconcile your conscience any longer to
+defending Property.'
+
+'No--I forget exactly. It is strange that one should forget a thing so
+simple. I am growing old, I suppose.--Well--it matters not. I left the
+profession. That is the only important thing to remember. That I did so
+these Chambers prove. I came out of it. Yes, that was it. Just at the
+moment, my head being full of other things, I cannot remember the exact
+time, or the manner of my leaving the profession. I forget the
+circumstances, probably because I attached so little importance to it.
+The real point is that I came out of it and gave myself up to these
+studies.'
+
+She noted this important point carefully and looked up for more.
+
+'There, my dear child, is my whole life for you. Without an incident or
+an episode. I was born: I went to school: I became a solicitor: I gave
+up my profession: I studied social economy: I made my great discovery: I
+preached it. Then--did I say my life was without an episode and without
+love? No--no--I was wrong. My daughter--I have at last found love and a
+child--and a disciple. What more have I to ask?'
+
+'My Master!' No daughter could be more in sympathy with him than this
+girl.
+
+'It is all most valuable and interesting,' she said, 'though the facts
+are so few. Books will be written, in the future, on these facts, which
+will be filled out with conjecture and inference. Even the things that
+you think of so little importance will be made the subject of comment
+and criticism. Well--but my Biography of you will be the first and best
+and most important. I shall first make a skeleton life out of the facts,
+and then fill in the flesh and blood and put on the clothes, and present
+you, dear Master, just as you are.'
+
+'Ask me what you will, but not too often. It worries me to remember the
+past. My dear, I am like a man who has made himself--who has risen from
+the gutter. He cannot deny the fact, but he doesn't like to be talking
+about it; and he is insulted if anyone charges him with the fact or
+alludes to it in any way in his presence. That is my case exactly. I
+have made myself. I have raised myself from the gutter--the gutter of
+Property. I actually worked in defence of Property till I was sixty
+years old and more. Now I am rather ashamed of that fact. I do not deny
+it--you must put it into your Biography--but I do not like talking about
+it.'
+
+'You were once a solicitor, and you are now a Prophet. What a leap!
+What a wonderful leap! I quite understand. Yet sometimes, now and then,
+for the sake of the curious impertinent world, look back and tell me
+what you see.'
+
+'I suppose it is because I am so absorbed in my work that it is
+difficult for me to remember things. Why, Elsie, day after day, from
+morning to evening, I sit here at work. And in the evening I remember
+nothing of the flight of time. The hours strike, but I hear them not.
+Only the books on the table show what has been my occupation. And you
+want me to go back, not to yesterday, but ten, twenty, thirty years ago.
+My dear child, I cannot. Some of the past is clear to me--a day here and
+there I remember clearly--all my evenings at the Hall of Science: my
+lessons with you; those I remember. But to recall days passed in
+meditation and absorbing study is not possible. No--no--I cannot even
+try.'
+
+He spoke with a little distress, as if the very thought of the necessary
+effort troubled him.
+
+'Believe me, my dear Master,' said Elsie, 'I would not vex you. Only for
+some of the things which you do remember. For instance, the world always
+wants to know about the private fortunes of its great men. Your own
+affairs, you told me once, are in the hands of a--Mr.--Mr.--what is his
+name?'
+
+'Dering--Dering. A very well known solicitor. His office is in New
+Square, Lincoln's Inn--he manages my money matters. I am, I believe,
+what the world calls wealthy.'
+
+'That gives you independence and the power of working for Humanity, does
+it not?'
+
+'It does,' said the Scourge and Destroyer of Property, unconscious of
+the incongruity. 'Dering, my solicitor, is, I believe, a very honest
+man. Narrow in his views--wedded to the old school--quite unable to see
+the advance of the tide. But trustworthy. He belongs to a tribe which is
+indispensable so long as Property is suffered to exist.'
+
+'Yes--only so long. Property and lawyers will go out hand in hand.'
+
+'And magistrates,' he added with enthusiasm. 'And Courts of Justice and
+prisons. And criminals, because the chief incentive to crime will be
+destroyed. What a glorious world without a law, or a lawyer, or a
+policeman!'
+
+'Mr. Dering, is it? Why, my dear Master, I know something about Mr.
+Dering. My brother Athelstan was articled to him. He became a managing
+clerk for him. Then there was trouble about a cheque. Something was
+wrong about it. He was unjustly blamed or suspected, and he left the
+House. I wonder, now, whether you could throw any light upon that
+business of the cheque?'
+
+'I, my dear child? A single solitary cheque at a lawyer's office? How
+should I possibly know anything about it?'
+
+'Oh! but you might remember this cheque, because, now I think of it,
+your own name was connected with it. Yes--it was. I am certain it was.
+The cheque was drawn in March in the year 1882--a cheque for seven
+hundred and twenty pounds, payable to your order--the order of Edmund
+Gray.'
+
+'A cheque for seven hundred and twenty pounds? In March 1882? That must
+have been: yes--yes--that was about the time. Now, this is really most
+remarkable, child, most remarkable that you should actually hit upon a
+cheque--one of thousands issued from that office--which I should
+remember perfectly. Life is full of coincidences--one is always hearing
+odd things said, meeting faces which one knows.--Well, it is most
+remarkable, because I received a cheque for that very amount at that
+very time from Dering. Oh! I remember perfectly. It was when I had a
+scheme--I thought it then, being younger than I am now--a very good
+scheme indeed. It was intended for the gradual destruction of Property.
+I did not understand at that time so fully as I do now the rising of the
+tide and the direction of the current which is steadily advancing to
+overwhelm Property without any feeble efforts on my part. Yet my scheme
+was good so far as it went, and it might have been started with good
+effect, but for the apathy of the workers. You see, they were not
+educated up to it. I had already begun upon my scheme by advancing to
+certain working men sums which should make them independent of their
+employers until they should have produced enough to sell directly,
+without the aid of an employer, at their own co-operative stores.
+Unfortunately, most of them drank the money: the few who used it
+properly, instead of backing up their fellow-workmen, became themselves
+employers, and are now wealthy. Well, I thought I would extend this
+method. I thought that if I got together a chosen band--say, of seventy
+or so--and if, after teaching them and educating them a bit, I gave
+them, say, ten pounds apiece, to tide them over the first few weeks,
+that I might next open a distributive and co-operative store for them,
+and so take the first step to abolishing the middle-man--the man of
+trade.'
+
+'I see; and so you drew the money for that purpose?'
+
+'Yes. But as I told you, I was obliged to abandon my scheme. The men
+were not sufficiently advanced. They listened; they professed great
+willingness to receive the money; but they gave me no encouragement to
+hope that they would carry out my plan. So it fell through. And the men
+remain to this day with their employers. And so--you see--I never used
+the money. I remember that I had the cheque cashed in ten-pound notes
+for the purpose.'
+
+'What became of the notes?'
+
+'I don't know. They are in the Bank, I suppose--wandering about the
+world. I gave them back to Dering.'
+
+'Oh! my dear Master'--Elsie sprang to her feet and laid a sheet of paper
+on the table--'this is most Providential! I cannot tell you what a
+dreadful cause of trouble this cheque has been to us. It has half ruined
+my brother's life. For Heaven's sake, write it all down for me. Quick!
+quick! before you forget it all.'
+
+'I shall not forget it. Nevertheless, Elsie, if a statement of the facts
+can be of any use to you'--he changed his seat and took up the
+pen--'certainly I will write it for you.'
+
+'I am requested,' he wrote, 'by Miss Elsie Arundel, my Scholar, to state
+what I know of a certain transaction which took place in March 1882. The
+facts are as follows: I had need of a sum of seven hundred and twenty
+pounds. For certain purposes I wanted it in ten-pound notes. I asked my
+agent, Mr. Dering, to give me a cheque; and as I thought that I should
+want the money immediately, perhaps in an hour or so, I asked him to
+make it payable to my order, and not to cross the cheque. He drew the
+cheque and gave it to me in his office. I then went to the hotel where I
+was stopping--a place in Arundel Street, Strand, and sent a
+commissionaire to the Bank for the money. He brought it, as I had
+requested, in ten-pound notes. In a few days I discovered that my plan
+could not be even commenced without the greatest danger of defeating its
+own object. I therefore took the notes to Mr. Dering's office and placed
+them in his safe. I suppose that he has long since returned them to the
+Bank.'
+
+'There, child,' he said, reading this statement aloud. 'That is what I
+recollect about this matter.'
+
+'Sign it.' Elsie gave him the pen again. 'Sign it, dear Master.--Oh!
+thanks--thanks a thousand times! You don't know--oh! you will never know
+or understand--I hope--how precious this document will be for me'--she
+folded the paper in an envelope and placed it in her handbag--'and for
+my people--my brother and all. Oh! my dear Master.' She stooped and
+kissed his hand, to hide the tears in her eyes. Athelstan's name was
+safe now whatever happened. He would be completely cleared at last.
+
+'Why, my dear Scholar--my dear daughter.' Mr. Edmund Gray was moved
+himself almost to tears at this unexpected burst of feeling. 'As if
+there was anything I would not do for you if I could. I, who have never
+loved any woman before, love one now. She is my daughter--my
+grandchild.--So your brother will be helped by this little
+reminiscence--will he? Actually, your brother! I wonder if there is
+anything more that I could remember for you in this uneventful life of
+mine.'
+
+'Oh no!--that would be too much to hope. Yet there is a chance--just a
+chance. I wonder if I may tell you. There is still time before us. If we
+are at the Hall by six we shall do very well. It is no more than
+half-past four. Shall I tell you the trouble? Oh! But it is a shame. And
+you with this great work laid upon you! No--no--I must not.' Oh!
+Delilah! oh! Circe! for she looked as if, in spite of her unwilling
+words, she wanted to tell it very badly indeed.
+
+'Nay, my dear. You must, and you shall.--What? You are in trouble, and
+you will not tell me what it is. You--my Scholar--my clear-eyed
+disciple, who can see what these dull creatures of clay around us can
+never understand--you are in trouble, and you hesitate to tell me?--Fie!
+fie! Speak now. Tell me all.'
+
+'I have told you that I have a lover, and that I am engaged to be
+married.'
+
+'Yes--yes. His name, too, you have told me. It is George--George Austin.
+There were Austins once--I seem to remember--but that does not matter.'
+
+'We are to be married on Wednesday.'
+
+'So soon? But you have promised that I shall not lose my pupil.'
+
+'No, dear Master. As soon as we come back from our holiday, I will come
+and see you again and learn of you. Do not doubt that. I can never again
+let you go out of my life. I shall bring my--my husband with me.'
+
+'If I thought your marriage would take you away from me, I should be the
+most unhappy of men. But I will spare you for a month--two months--as
+long as you please. Now, tell me what is on your mind.'
+
+'George was one of Mr. Dering's managing clerks--your Mr. Dering, you
+know.'--Mr. Edmund Gray nodded gravely. 'He had no money when we were
+engaged, and we thought that we were going to be quite a poor and humble
+pair. But a great piece of good fortune happened to him, for Mr. Dering
+made him a Partner.'
+
+'Did he? Very lucky for your friend. But I always thought that Dering
+ought to have a Partner. At his age it was only prudent--necessary,
+even.'
+
+'So we were made very happy; and I thought we were the luckiest couple
+in the world. But just then there was a discovery made at the office--a
+very singular discovery--I hardly know how to describe it, because it is
+not quite clear to me even yet. It was concerned with the buying or
+selling or transfer of certain stocks and shares and coupons and that
+kind of thing. Mr. Dering seems not to remember having signed the papers
+concerned. There is a fear that they are in wrong hands. There is a
+suspicion of forgery even. I am ashamed even to mention such a thing to
+you, but my lover's name has been connected with the business; and
+Dering's clerk, Checkley--you know Checkley?'--
+
+'Certainly--Dering's old servant.'
+
+'Has openly charged George--on no evidence, to be sure--of having forged
+the letters or of having assisted in the forgery.'
+
+'This is very serious.'
+
+'It is very serious; but we do not intend to let the thing interfere
+with our wedding. Only, unless I can remove the last ray of suspicion
+before Wednesday, we shall spend our honeymoon at home, in order to
+watch the case from day to day.'
+
+'Buying or selling stocks? Dering would be constantly doing that.'
+
+'It appears that these transactions were the only things of the kind
+that he has done this year. That is to say, he denies having done
+these.'
+
+'Well--as for these having been the only transactions of the kind, he
+managed a good bit of such business for me this last spring.'
+
+'Did he? Do you remember the details of that business?'
+
+'Clearly. It was only yesterday, so to speak.'
+
+'Was it the purchase or transfer of stock or shares?'
+
+'Certainly. To a very large amount. I have told you about my Industrial
+Village, have I not? The Village where all are to be equal--all are to
+work for a certain time every day, and no longer--all are to be paid in
+rations and clothes and houses, and there is to be no private
+property--my Ideal Village.'
+
+'I know. A lovely Village.'
+
+'It was early in the spring that I finished my designs for it. Then it
+occurred to me that it would be well if, instead of always going to my
+lawyer for money, I had a large sum at my command lying at my Bank. So I
+instructed Dering to transfer to my name a great quantity of stocks
+lying in his name. He was a trustee or a--well--it is rather unusual,
+but I like having all my business affairs managed for me, and---- But
+this will not interest you'--this with the look of irritation or
+bewilderment which sometimes passed over his face. 'The important thing
+is that it was done, and that my Bank received those transfers, and has
+instructions to receive the dividends.'
+
+'Oh! And has all the papers, I suppose?'
+
+'It had them. But I thought that perhaps my old friend might think it
+looked like want of confidence if I left them there, so I sent for them,
+and took them to his office. They are now in the safe. I put them there
+myself with my own hand; or he did with his own hand--I forget.
+Sometimes--it is very odd--when I think of things done at that office, I
+seem to have done it myself; and sometimes I think that he did it. Not
+that it matters.'
+
+'Not at all. The papers are actually in the safe again?'
+
+'Certainly. I--that is--he--he or I--put them there.'
+
+'Oh! my dear Master'--Elsie clapped her hands--'this is even more
+important than the other. You do not know--you cannot guess--what
+mischiefs you are able to stop. If I had only been able to talk to you
+about these things before! The paper you have already written is for my
+brother. Now sit down, my Master, and write another that will do for
+me.'
+
+'I will do anything you ask me--and everything. But as for this, why not
+ask Dering? His memory never fails. His mind is like a box which holds
+everything and can never be filled. Perhaps he would not like these
+private affairs--as between solicitor and client--to be talked about.'
+
+'We cannot go to Mr. Dering. There are certain reasons which would not
+interest you. All we want is a clear, straightforward statement, an
+exact statement of what happened. Sit down now and write me a full
+account of each transaction.'
+
+'Certainly; if it will be of the least use to you.'
+
+'Early in the present year,' he began, 'I found that my plan of an
+Industrial Village if it was to be carried into effect would want all
+the money I could command. It occurred to me that it would be well to
+transfer a certain sum from the hands of my agent, and to place it in my
+own Bank ready to hand. I began then, in March, with a sum of six
+thousand pounds, which Dering, by my instructions, handed over to my
+Bank in the form of shares and stocks. I believe they were transfers of
+certain stocks held by him in his own name, but forming part of my
+fortune--my large private fortune. The Bank was instructed to receive
+the dividends on that sum. A month or so later I obtained from Dering
+other stock to the value of twelve thousand pounds, the papers of which
+were also given to my Bank. And after that I took out papers
+representing twenty thousand pounds; so that I had in my hands, ready to
+be sold out and used at a moment's notice, no less than thirty-eight
+thousand pounds. All this money I intended to devote to my Industrial
+Village. The scheme is still one in which I put my whole confidence. But
+it has not yet been carried into effect, in consequence of the
+difficulty of finding working men equal to the situation. They
+understand working for the man who has the money; they do not understand
+working for the man who has none, that is for each other and for
+themselves. For my own part I could only find working men of that stamp.
+Perhaps I am too much in the study. I do not go about enough among
+working men. There must be some advanced to my stage of
+development.--Well, for want of men, I could not start my Village, and I
+have not used the money. As for the papers, I have taken them out of the
+Bank and placed them in Dering's safe.'
+
+Elsie looked over his shoulder, reading every word. 'The letters which
+Mr. Dering wrote to the stockbroker in accordance with your
+instructions. They were written for him--perhaps--by you. It is unusual,
+but----'
+
+'I told you,' he replied sharply. 'What is the use of saying things
+twice? There are some things which confuse a man. I wrote them--he wrote
+them--he acted for me--or I acted for myself. What matter? The end is as
+I have written down for you.--Now, will this paper be of any use to
+you?'
+
+'Of the greatest use. Please sign it, dear Master.'
+
+He obeyed, and signed 'Edmund Gray.'
+
+'There is one thing more.' Elsie saw in his face signs of disquiet, and
+hastened on. 'You have got your Bank book here?'
+
+'Yes. The Manager sent it here with an impertinent note about
+references, which I have sent on to Dering.--What do you want with the
+Bank book? It is in one of those drawers. See--here it is--cheque book
+too.'
+
+'If I were you, Master, I would have no more trouble about the money.
+You have given Mr. Dering the transfers and papers--why not give him
+back the money as well? Do not be bothered with money matters. It is of
+all things important to you to be free from all kinds of business and
+money matters. Who ever heard of a Prophet drawing a cheque? You sit
+here and work and meditate. You go to the Hall of Science and teach. It
+is the business of your friends to see that all your necessities are
+properly supplied.--Now, if you will in these minor matters suffer your
+friends to advise----'
+
+'Surely. I ask for nothing else.'
+
+'Then, dear Master, here is your cheque book and here your Bank book.
+Draw a cheque payable to the order of Edward Dering for all the money
+that is lying here--I see it is seven hundred and twenty-three pounds
+five shillings and threepence.--I will take care of the cheque--so.--Oh!
+you have signed Edward Dering--careless Master! Draw another--now sign
+it Edmund Gray.--That will do.--And you had better at the same time
+write a letter to the Bank asking the Manager in future to receive the
+dividends for the account of Mr. Dering. I will write the letter, and
+you shall sign it. Now--no--no--not Edward Dering--Edmund Gray. Your
+thoughts are wandering.--There!--Now, dear Master, you are free from
+everything that might trouble you.'
+
+The Master pushed back the blotting-pad with impatience, and rose from
+the chair. Elsie took possession of the signed cheques, the cheque book,
+the Bank book, and the letter. She had all--the statement in Edmund
+Gray's own handwriting-all--all--that was wanted to clear up the
+business from the beginning to the end. She put everything together in
+her handbag. She glanced at her companion: she perceived that his face
+was troubled. 'I wish,' he said fretfully, 'that you had not worried me
+with those questions about the past. They disturb me. The current of my
+thoughts is checked. I am full of Dering and his office and his
+safe--his safe--and all----'
+
+Elsie trembled. His face was changing--in a minute he would have
+returned to Mr. Dering, and she would have had to explain. 'Master,' she
+cried, laying her hand upon his arm, 'think. We are going to the Hall of
+Science--your Hall of Science--yours. The people are waiting for their
+Prophet. You are to address them. To-night you must surpass yourself,
+because there are strangers coming. Tell us--once again--all over
+again--of that world where there is no crime, no suffering, no iniquity,
+no sin, no sorrow--where there are no poor creatures deprived by a cruel
+social order of liberty, of leisure, of comfort, of virtue, of
+everything--poor wretches born only to toil and to endure. Think of
+them. Speak for them. Plan for them. Make our hearts burn within us for
+shame and rage. Oh, Master'--for his face was troubled still and
+doubtful, as if he was hovering on the border-land between himself and
+his other self--'no one can speak to them like you; no one has your
+power of speech: make them feel that new world--make them see
+it--actually see it with their earthly eyes--make them feel it in their
+hearts.'
+
+'Child'--he sighed; his face fell back into repose--'you comfort me. I
+was falling--before you came to me I often used to fall--into a fit of
+gloom--I don't know why. Something irritates me; something jars;
+something awakens a feeling as if I ought to remember--remember--what? I
+do not know.--I am better now. Your voice, my dear, at such a moment is
+to me like the sound of David's harp to Saul. It chases away the
+shadows. Oh! I am better already. I am well. If you want to ask any
+other questions, do so. As for those transactions--they are perfectly
+correct in form and everything. I cannot for the life of me understand
+why Dering, who is a practical man----'
+
+'Never mind Dering, my dear Master--or those transactions. Think only of
+the world of the New Humanity. Leave the transactions and the papers to
+me. I hope that you will never find out why they were wanted, or how
+they were to be used.--Now let us start. We shall be in excellent time.'
+
+The Hall of Science was half full of people--the usual gathering--those
+who came every Sunday evening and took the simple feast of fraternity.
+The table was spread with the white cloth, on which were laid out the
+toast and muffins, the ham and shrimps, and bread and butter and
+watercress; and on the appearance of the Chief, the tea was brought up,
+and they all sat down. Now, it had been observed by all that since the
+adhesion of this young lady the Leader's discourses had been much more
+confident, his manner had been clearer, his points more forcibly put.
+This was because, for the first time, he had had an opportunity of
+discussing his own doctrines with a mind able to follow him. Nothing so
+valuable to a teacher of new things as a sympathetic woman for listener
+and disciple. Witness the leading example of the Prophet Mohammed. Also,
+their leader had never before been so cheerful--so hopeful--so full of
+life and youth and spring. He was young again: he talked like a young
+man, though his hair was gray. This was because he loved a woman, for
+the first time in his life: he called it paternal affection: whatever
+kind of love it was, it worked in him the same miracle that love always
+works in man--young or old--it gave him back the fire of youth.
+
+This evening he sat at the head of the table dispensing his simple
+hospitality with a geniality and a heartiness unknown before the arrival
+of this young lady. He talked, meantime, in the lofty vein, above the
+style and manner common to his hearers, but not above their
+comprehension; he spoke of a higher life attainable by man at his best,
+when the victory over nature should be complete, and every force should
+be subdued and made slave to man, and all diseases should be swept away,
+and the Perfect man should stand upon the earth at last, Lord and Master
+of all--Adamus Redivivus. When that time should come, there would be no
+Property, of course; everything was to be in common; but the new life
+would be full of love and joy; there would be long-continued youth, so
+that none should be made to rise from the feast unsatisfied; nay, it
+seemed to this Dreamer that everyone should continue at the feast as
+long as he pleased, till he was satiated and desired a change.
+Long-continued youth; all were to be young, and to keep young; the girls
+were to be beautiful and the men strong; he pronounced--he--the
+hermit--the anchorite--the celibate who knew not love--a eulogy on the
+beauty of women: and he mourned over those men who miss their share of
+love.
+
+The hearts of those who heard were uplifted, for this man had the
+mesmeric faculty of compelling those who heard him to feel what he
+wanted them to feel. Most of them had been accustomed to regard their
+Leader as a man of benevolent manners but austere principles. Now he was
+tender and human, full of sympathy even with those weak vessels who fall
+in love, and for the sake of love are content to be all their lives
+slaves--yea, even slaves to Property.
+
+After tea, the tables being cleared, the Chief pronounced his weekly
+address or sermon. It was generally a discourse on the principles, which
+all professed, of equality and the abolition of Property. To-night, he
+carried on the theme on which he had spoken at tea-time, and discoursed
+on the part which should be played by Love in the New Humanity. Never
+before had he spoken so convincingly. Never had orator an audience more
+in sympathy with him.
+
+Shortly after the beginning of the address, there arrived two gentlemen,
+young and well dressed, who sat down modestly just within the door and
+listened. The people turned and looked at them with interest. They were
+not quite the kind of young man peculiar to the street or to the
+quarter.
+
+When the lecture was over and the audience crowded together to talk
+before they separated, Elsie slipped across to the new-comers and led
+them to the lecturer. 'Master,' she said, 'this is my brother
+Athelstan.'
+
+Mr. Edmund Gray shook hands with him. 'Why, Elsie,' he said, 'your
+brother and I have met already in Gray's Inn.'
+
+'And this is my friend George Austin, Partner of Mr. Dering.'
+
+'Mr. Austin,' said Mr. Edmund Gray, 'I am glad to meet the man who is
+about to enter into the most sacred of all bonds with one whom I venture
+to love, sir, as much as you yourself can do, though I love her as my
+daughter, and you love her as your bride. You will be the happiest of
+men. Take care, sir, that you deserve your happiness.'
+
+'This day,' said Elsie, 'you have rendered us all such a service as can
+never be acknowledged, or repaid, or forgotten. Yet we hope and pray
+that somehow you will never understand how great it is.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+LE CONSEIL DE FAMILLE
+
+
+'Checkley,' said Mr. Dering on Monday morning, 'here is a note from Miss
+Elsie Arundel. She makes an appointment with me at four o'clock this
+afternoon. Keep me free for that hour. Her brother Athelstan is coming
+with her.--What's the matter, man?'
+
+'It's coming, then. I knew it would come,' Checkley groaned. 'It's all
+over at last.'
+
+'What is all over?'
+
+'Everything. But don't you believe it. Tell 'em it's a lie made up to
+screen themselves. They can't prove it. Nobody can prove it. I'll back
+you up. Only don't you believe it. Mind--it is a lie--a made-up lie.'
+
+'I don't know what has been the matter with you for the last day or two,
+Checkley. What am I not to believe? What is a lie? Who is making up a
+lie which cannot be proved?'
+
+'Oh! I can't say the word--I can't. It's all over at last--at last.' He
+ran out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'My dear mother'--Hilda drove to Pembridge Square directly after
+breakfast--'I have had a most curious letter from Elsie. What does it
+mean? She orders--she does not invite--she positively orders--Sir
+Samuel--actually orders Sir Samuel!--and myself to attend at Mr.
+Dering's office at four. We are ordered to assist, she says, at the
+demolition of the structure we have so carefully erected.--What
+structure? What does she mean? Here is the letter.'
+
+'I too, dear, have had a letter from her. She says that at four o'clock
+this afternoon all the wrongful and injurious suspicions will be cleared
+away, and that if I value the affection of my son and herself--the
+affection of herself--I must be present.--Hilda, what does this mean? I
+am very much troubled about the letter. On Saturday, she came here and
+informed me that the wedding would be held on Wednesday just as if
+nothing had happened; and she foretold that we should all be present,
+and that Athelstan would give her away--Athelstan. It is a very
+disquieting letter, because, my dear, do you think we could all of
+us--could we possibly be wrong, have been wrong from the very
+beginning--in Athelstan's case? Could Sir Samuel be wrong in George's
+case?'
+
+'My dear mother, it is impossible. The case, unhappily, is too clear to
+admit of any doubt. Sir Samuel, with his long experience, could not be
+wrong.'
+
+'Then, Hilda dear, what can Elsie mean?'
+
+'We have been talking about it all through breakfast. The only
+conclusion we can come to is, that there is going to be a smothering up
+of the whole business. Mr. Dering, who has been terribly put out with
+the case, must have consented to smother up the matter. We think that
+the papers have been returned with the money received on dividends and
+coupons; and that Mr. Dering has agreed to take no further proceedings.
+Now, if he would do that, Athelstan of course would come under a kind of
+Act of Indemnity; and as the notes were never used by him, but were
+returned to their owner, it becomes as easy to recognise his innocence
+as that of the other man.--Do you see?'
+
+'Yes. But that will not make them innocent.'
+
+'Certainly not. But it makes all the difference in the world. Oh! there
+are families everywhere who have had to smother up things in order to
+escape a scandal. Well, I hope you will agree with us, and accept the
+invitation.'
+
+'I suppose I must.--But how about removing all the suspicions?'
+
+'Oh! that is only Elsie's enthusiastic way. She will go on, if she
+likes, believing that George had nothing to do with it. He will have
+every inducement to live honestly for the future. We can easily pretend
+to believe that Athelstan was always innocent, and we can persuade
+him--at least I hope we can persuade him--to go abroad. Sir Samuel
+kindly says that he will advance a hundred pounds in order to get rid of
+him. Then there will be no scandal, and everybody will be satisfied. As
+for our relations with Elsie and her husband, we can arrange them
+afterwards. Perhaps they will agree to live in a distant suburb--say
+Redhill, or Chislehurst, or Walthamstow--so that there may be a good
+excuse for never having them to the house. Because--smothering or no
+smothering--I can no longer have the same feelings towards Elsie as
+before. Her obstinate infatuation for that man exasperates me only to
+think of it. Nor have I the least intention of being on intimate
+relations with a forger who has only just escaped being a convict. Sir
+Samuel entirely agrees with me.'
+
+The mother sighed. 'I could have wished that we were mistaken. Perhaps,
+after all, there may be something that Elsie has found out, some
+unexpected----'
+
+'Say a miracle at once, my dear mother. It is just as likely to happen.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The first to arrive at the office in the afternoon was Elsie herself,
+carrying a handbag.
+
+'You were going to bring your brother, Elsie,' said Mr. Dering. 'Where
+is he? And what is your important business with me? I suppose it is
+something about this wretched forgery, which really seems destined to
+finish me off. I have heard of nothing else--I think of nothing
+else--ever since it happened.'
+
+'First, has anything new been discovered?'
+
+'I hardly know,' Mr. Dering replied wearily. 'They seem to have found
+the man Edmund Gray; but Checkley has suddenly cooled. Formerly, he
+clamoured perpetually that we must lose no time in getting a warrant for
+his arrest; he now wants to put it off and put it off. He was going on
+very strangely this morning. My dear, I sometimes think that my old
+clerk is off his head.'
+
+'And you yourself--have you had any return of your forgetfulness?'
+
+'Worse--worse.--Every day, worse. I now know when to look for a return
+of these fits. Every morning I ask myself what I did the day before.
+Always there are the same hours of forgetfulness--the morning and the
+evening. Last night, where was I? Perhaps somebody will find out for
+me--for I cannot remember.'
+
+'Shall I find out for you, Mr. Dering? If I were to tell you where you
+spent the evening yesterday, would you--would you?----'
+
+'What? How can you find out?'
+
+Elsie bent her head. The moment had almost arrived, and she was afraid.
+She had come with the intention of clearing her brother and her lover at
+the cost of letting her guardian know that he was insane. A dreadful
+price to pay for their honour. But it had to be paid. And it must be
+done in the sight of all, so that there should be no possible margin
+left for malignity or suspicion.
+
+'This business,' she said, 'concerns the honour of the two men who are
+dearer to me than all the world beside. Remember that--nothing short of
+that would make me do what I have been doing--what I am now doing. Their
+honour--oh! their honour. Think what it means to them. Self-respect,
+dignity, everything: the happiness of their homes: the pride of their
+children. Compared with one man's honour, what matters another man's
+humiliation? What matters the loss of that man's self-respect? What
+matters his loss of dignity? Their honour, Mr. Dering, think of
+that--their honour!'
+
+He bowed his head gravely, wondering what was to follow.
+
+'A man's honour, as you say, Elsie, is the greatest thing in the world
+to him. Compared with that, another man's self-respect need not, I
+should say, as a general principle, be considered at all. Self-respect
+may be regained unless honour is lost.'
+
+'Remember that, then, Mr. Dering, when you hear what I have to say.
+Promise me to remember that. Oh! if there were a thousand reasons,
+formerly, why I would not pain you by a single word, there are ten
+thousand now--although you understand them not.'
+
+'Why, Elsie, you are troubling your little head about trifles. You will
+not offend me whatever you say.'
+
+'It is so important a thing,' she went on, 'that I have asked my mother
+and sister and Sir Samuel to meet us here at four o'clock, in order that
+they, too, may hear as well as you. Athelstan is with George. They have
+one or two persons to introduce to you.'
+
+'All this seems to promise a meeting of some interest, and so far as one
+may judge from the preamble, of more than common importance. Well,
+Elsie, I am quite in your hands. If you and your brother between you
+will kindly produce the forger and give me back my property, I shall be
+truly grateful.'
+
+'You shall see, Mr. Dering. But as for the gratitude----Oh! here is Sir
+Samuel.'
+
+The City knight appeared, large and important. He shook hands with Elsie
+and his brother, and took up his position on the hearth-rug, behind his
+brother's chair. 'Well, Elsie,' he said, 'we are to hear something very
+important indeed, if one may judge by the tone of your letter, which was
+imperative.'
+
+'Very important indeed, Sir Samuel.'
+
+The next to arrive were Mrs. Arundel and Hilda. They wore thick veils,
+and Hilda was dressed in a kind of half-mourning. They took chairs at
+the open window, between the historic safe and the equally historic
+small table. Lastly, George and Athelstan walked in. They received no
+greetings.
+
+Mr. Dering rose. 'Athelstan,' he said, 'it is eight years since you left
+us.' He held out his hand.
+
+'Presently, Mr. Dering,' said Athelstan. He looked round the room. His
+mother trembled, dropped her head, and put her handkerchief to her eyes,
+but said nothing. His sister looked out of window. Sir Samuel took no
+notice of him at all. Athelstan took a chair--the clients' chair--and
+placed it so as to have his mother and sister at the side. He was not
+therefore compelled to look at them across the table. He sat down, and
+remained in silence and motionless.
+
+The Court was now complete. Mr. Dering sat in his chair before his
+table, expectant, judicial. Sir Samuel stood behind him. Mrs. Arundel
+and Hilda, the two ladies, sat at the open window. Elsie stood opposite
+to Mr. Dering, on the other side of the table, her handbag before her.
+She looked like Counsel about to open the case for plaintiff.
+Athelstan--or plaintiff--naturally occupied the clients' chair on Mr.
+Dering's left; and George, as naturally--the other plaintiff--stood
+behind him.
+
+'Now, Elsie, if you please,' Mr. Dering began.
+
+'I shall want your clerk, Checkley, to be present, if you please.'
+
+Mr. Dering touched his bell. The clerk appeared. He stood before them
+like a criminal, pale and trembling. He looked at his master
+appealingly. His hands hung beside him. Yet not a word of accusation had
+been brought against him.
+
+'Lord! Man alive!' cried Sir Samuel, 'what on earth has come over you?'
+
+Checkley shook his head sadly, but made no reply.
+
+'I want to ask you a question or two, Checkley,' said Elsie, quietly.
+'You have told Mr. Dering--you have told Sir Samuel--that you saw my
+brother furtively put a parcel--presumably the stolen notes--into the
+safe at the very moment when you were charging him with forgery. Now,
+consider. That was a very serious thing to say. It was a direct
+statement of fact. Before, the charge rested on suspicion alone; but
+this is fact. Consider carefully. You may have been mistaken. Any of us
+may make a mistake.'
+
+'It was true--Gospel truth--I see him place a parcel--along sideways--in
+the safe. The parcel we found afterwards in the safe containing all the
+notes.' The words were confident; but the manner was halting.
+
+'Very well. Next, you told Sir Samuel that my brother had been living in
+some low suburb of London with profligate companions, and that he had
+been even going about in rags and tatters.'
+
+'Yes, I did. I told Sir Samuel what I heard. Mr. Carstone told me. You'd
+better ask him. I only told what I heard.'
+
+George went out, and returned, bringing with him Mr. Freddy Carstone. He
+looked round the room and stared with surprise at Mr. Dering, but said
+nothing. He had been warned to say nothing, except in answer to
+questions.
+
+'Now, Mr. Carstone,' Elsie asked him, 'how long is it since you met my
+brother after his return to England?'
+
+'About three weeks ago I met him. It was in Holborn. I invited him into
+the _Salutation_ Tavern.'
+
+'Did you tell Mr. Checkley here anything about his way of living?'
+
+'I remember saying, foolishly, that he looked too respectable to have
+come from America; and I said in joke that I believed he had been in
+Camberwell all the time.'
+
+'Nothing about profligacy?'
+
+'Nothing at all.'
+
+'Nothing about rags and tatters?'
+
+'Certainly not. In fact, I knew nothing at all about Athelstan's life
+during the eight years that he has been away.'
+
+'Have you anything to say, Checkley? You still stick to the parcel
+story, do you? Very well, and to the Camberwell and profligacy story?'
+
+Checkley made no answer.
+
+'Now, then. There is another question. You made a great point about
+certain imitations of Mr. Dering's writing found in a drawer of
+Athelstan's table?'
+
+'Well, they were there, in your brother's hand.'
+
+'George, you have something to say on this point.'
+
+'Only this. I was not long articled at that time. The table was taken
+from the room in which I sat, and placed here for some special work.
+Now, the imitations of Mr. Dering's handwriting were made by myself and
+another clerk in joke. I remember them perfectly. They were written at
+the back of a letter addressed to me.'
+
+Mr. Dering went to the safe and produced the bundle containing all the
+papers in the case. He unrolled the bundle and placed the contents on
+the table.
+
+Everybody was now serious. Lady Dering looked out of the window no
+longer. Mrs. Arundel had drawn her chair to the table.
+
+Elsie picked out the paper containing the imitations. 'Tell me,' she
+said, 'if you remember--mind--everybody--this bundle of papers has never
+been shown to George--tell me the name of your correspondent?'
+
+'It was Leonard Henryson.'
+
+She gave the paper to Mr. Dering. 'You see,' she said.
+
+The lawyer gave it to his brother, who passed it on to his wife, who
+gave it to her mother. Mrs. Arundel laid it on the table and raised her
+veil.
+
+'The next point,' said Elsie, 'is about Athelstan's whereabouts during
+the last eight years. One letter was received by you, Mr. Dering, four
+years ago. You have already shown it to me. Will you let me read this
+letter aloud for all to hear?' It was in the bundle with the stopped
+notes. He bowed assent--and she read it.
+
+'Twelve thousand pounds!' cried Sir Samuel--'twelve thousand pounds! All
+he had! Good Heavens?'
+
+'All he had in the world,' said Elsie. 'And all for a child who refused
+to believe that her brother could be a villain! All he had in the
+world?' Her eyes filled with tears--but she dashed them aside and went
+on.
+
+'He was in the States four years ago. That, I suppose, will no longer be
+denied. The next question is--when did he return to this country?'
+
+George left the room again, and returned with a young gentleman.
+
+'This gentleman,' Elsie continued, 'comes from Messrs. Chenery & Sons,
+bankers, of New York and London. He has brought a letter with him. Will
+you kindly let me see it, sir?--It is,' she explained, 'a letter of
+credit brought over by my brother from California. You see the
+date--June 20th of this year.'
+
+Mr. Dering read it, and gave it to his brother, who gave it to his wife,
+as before.
+
+'It says that Mr. Athelstan Arundel, one of the staff of a certain
+Californian paper, will leave New York on June the 21st by the
+_Shannon_, and that he is authorised to draw on Messrs. Chenery & Sons
+for so much.--Thank you.' The young gentleman retired.
+
+'Now, Mr. Dering, are you satisfied that Athelstan was in America four
+years ago--that he left America two months ago, and that he was then on
+the staff of a Californian paper?'
+
+'There seems no reason to doubt these facts.--But'--he put his
+forefinger on the cheque payable to the order of Edmund Gray--'are we
+any nearer to the forger of this cheque?'
+
+'I am coming to that presently. I am going to show you all, so that
+there shall be no doubt whatever, who is the forger--the one hand--in
+the business. Wait a little.'
+
+Strangely enough, every eye fell upon Checkley, who now trembled and
+shook with every sign of terror.
+
+'Sit down, Checkley,' said his master.--'Elsie, do we want this
+gentleman any longer? His name I have not the pleasure of knowing.'
+
+'Oh! come,' said Mr. Carstone, who was nearest. 'You know my name,
+surely.'
+
+George warned him with a look, and he subsided into silence.
+
+'I think I shall want you, Mr. Carstone,' Elsie replied, 'if you will
+kindly take a chair and wait.--Now, Sir Samuel, I think I am right in
+saying that your belief in the guilt of George rested entirely on the
+supposed complicity of Athelstan. That gone, what becomes of your
+charge? Also, there is no doubt, I believe, that one hand, and one hand
+alone, has committed the whole long list of letters and forgeries. If,
+therefore, Athelstan could not execute the second business, how could he
+do the first? But I have more than arguments for you.'
+
+Sir Samuel coughed. Mrs. Arundel sighed.
+
+'As regards the charge against George, apart from his supposed intimacy
+with an imaginary criminal, the only suspicious thing is that he may
+have had access to the open safe. Well, Checkley also may have had
+access.--Don't be afraid, Checkley--we are not going to charge you with
+the thing at all. You are not the forger. In fact, there was a third
+person who had access to the safe.'
+
+She opened her handbag and took out a packet of papers.
+
+Then she sat down, with these in her hand, and leaning over the table,
+she looked straight and full into Mr. Dering's eyes, and began to talk
+slowly in a low and murmuring voice. And now, indeed, everybody
+understood that something very serious indeed was going to be said and
+done. At the last moment a way had occurred to Elsie. She would let them
+all see for themselves what had happened, and she would spare her
+guardian the bitter shame and pain of being exposed in the presence of
+all this company.
+
+'Mr. Dering,' she began, 'you have strangely forgotten that you know Mr.
+Edmund Gray. How could you come to forget that? Why, it is ten years at
+least since you made his acquaintance. He knows you very well. He does
+not pretend to have forgotten you. You are his solicitor. You have the
+management of his property--his large private fortune--in your hands.
+You are his most intimate friend. It is not well to forget old friends,
+is it? You must not say that you forget Edmund Gray.'
+
+Mr. Dering changed colour. His eyes expressed bewilderment. He made no
+reply.
+
+'You know that Edmund Gray leaves this room every evening on his way to
+Gray's Inn: you remember that. And that he comes here every morning, but
+not till eleven or twelve--two hours after the time that you yourself
+used to come. His head is always so full of his thoughts and his
+teaching, that he forgets the time between twelve and four, just as you
+forget the evening and the morning. You are both so much absorbed that
+you cannot remember each other.'
+
+Mr. Dering sat upright, the tips of his fingers touching. He listened at
+first gravely--though anxiously. Presently a remarkable change passed
+over his face; he became full of anxiety. He listened as if he was
+trying to remember; as if he was trying to understand.
+
+'Edmund Gray,' he said, speaking slowly. 'Yes, I remember my client
+Edmund Gray. I have a letter to write for him. What is it? Excuse me a
+moment; I must write that note for him.' He took pen and paper and
+hastily wrote a note, which Elsie took from him, read, and gave to Sir
+Samuel.
+
+'You want to tell the banker that Mr. Edmund Gray has returned you the
+transfers.--Yes.--Thank you. I thought you could not forget that client,
+of all others.'
+
+He leaned back smiling--his expression no longer anxious, but pleased
+and happy. The change transformed him. He was not Mr. Dering, but
+another.
+
+'Go on, child.'
+
+'The rooms of Gray's Inn are quiet all day long. It is a peaceful place
+for study, is it not? You sit there, your books before you, the world
+forgotten.'
+
+'Quite forgotten,' said Mr. Dering.
+
+'No--no,' cried Checkley, springing to his feet. 'I won't have it done.
+I----'
+
+'Sit down.' George pushed him back into his chair. 'Another word, and
+you leave the room.'
+
+'It is a peaceful day,' Elsie continued, 'that you pass--for the most
+part alone--you with your books. Sometimes you come here to call upon
+your old friend and solicitor, Mr. Dering.'
+
+'Sometimes,' he replied. 'We are very old friends. Though his views are
+narrow.--Where is he?' He looked about the room. 'You are all waiting to
+see him? He will be here directly. He is always here about this time.'
+
+'Yes, directly. You remember what I said to you on Sunday concerning
+certain transactions? I told you how important it was to have the exact
+truth about them.'
+
+'Certainly. I remember. I wrote an account of them for you.'
+
+'You did. Are these papers what you wrote?'
+
+He looked at them for a moment. 'These are my papers,' he said. 'They
+are what I wrote at your request. They contain a perfectly true account
+of what happened.'
+
+'Now, before I go on, you will not mind--these people here do not know
+Mr. Edmund Gray--you will not mind my asking a few persons to testify
+that you are really Mr. Edmund Gray?'
+
+'My dear child, ask all the world if you wish; though I do not
+understand why my identity should be doubted.'
+
+'Not quite all the world.--Mr. Carstone, will you tell us the name of
+this gentleman?'
+
+'He is Mr. Edmund Gray, my neighbour at No. 22 South Square, Gray's
+Inn.'
+
+Mr. Edmund Gray inclined his head and smiled.
+
+George went outside and returned, followed by a small company, who, in
+answer to Elsie, stepped forward one after the other and made answer.
+
+Said one: 'I am the landlord of the rooms at 22 South Square tenanted by
+Mr. Edmund Gray. He has held the rooms for ten years. This gentleman is
+Mr. Edmund Gray, my tenant.'
+
+Said another: 'I am a barrister, and the tenant of the rooms above those
+held by Mr. Edmund Gray. I have known him--more or less--for ten years.
+This gentleman is Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+Said a third: 'I am a commissionaire. I remember this gentleman very
+well, though it is eight years since he employed me, and only for one
+job then. I went from an hotel in Arundel Street, Strand, to a bank with
+a cheque which I was to cash for him in ten-pound notes. He gave me half
+a sovereign.'
+
+'Quite so,' said Mr. Edmund Gray. 'I remember you, too. It was a cheque
+for seven hundred and twenty pounds, the particulars of which you have
+in my statement, Elsie. I well remember this one-armed commissionaire.'
+
+And a fourth: 'I am the laundress who does for Mr. Edmund Gray. I have
+done for him for ten years. This gentleman is Mr. Edmund Gray.'
+
+And a fifth: 'I am a news-agent, and I have a shop at the entrance of
+Gray's Inn. This gentleman is Mr. Edmund Gray, of 22 South Square. I
+have known him in the Inn for ten years.'
+
+To each in turn Mr. Dering nodded with a kindly smile.
+
+'Athelstan,' said Elsie, 'will you tell us when and where you have met
+Mr. Edmund Gray?'
+
+'I met him last week in Carstone's rooms on the same landing. He sat
+with us for an hour or more.'
+
+'It is quite true,' said Mr. Dering. 'I have had the pleasure of meeting
+Mr. Arundel on that occasion.'
+
+'I also saw him,' Athelstan continued, 'at a small Lecture Hall at
+Kentish Town on Sunday evening--yesterday.'
+
+'To complete the evidence,' said Elsie, 'I have myself spent many hours
+almost daily with Mr. Edmund Gray during the last fortnight or so.--Is
+not that true, dear Master?'
+
+'Quite true, my Scholar.'
+
+'Brother--brother'--Sir Samuel touched his arm--'I implore you--rouse
+yourself. Shake off this fancy.'
+
+'Let him alone, Sir Samuel,' said George--'let him alone. We have not
+done with him yet.'
+
+'Yes,' cried Mrs. Arundel, who had now left her seat and was leaning
+over the table, following what was said with breathless interest--'let
+us finish out this comedy or tragedy--as the case may be. Let no one
+interrupt.'
+
+'I have also met you, sir'--Mr. Dering addressed Checkley, who only
+groaned and shook. 'It was outside a tavern. You took me in and offered
+me a drink.'
+
+Checkley shook his head, either in sadness or in denial--but replied
+not, and at the thought of offering Mr. Dering a drink, everybody
+laughed, which was a relief.
+
+'Dear Master,' Elsie went on in her soft voice, 'I am so glad that you
+remember all these things. It makes one's task so much easier. Why, your
+memory is as strong as ever, in spite of all your work.--Now, I am going
+to read the two statements you wrote down yesterday afternoon. Then you
+may recall anything else you might like to add. Remember, that as
+regards this first affair, the cheque for seven hundred and twenty
+pounds, my brother was charged, on suspicion only, with having forged
+it. Now listen.' She read the brief statement which you have already
+seen concerning the business of the first cheque. 'That is your history
+of the affair.'
+
+'Quite so. Dering drew the cheque at my request. I cashed it. I found
+that I had no need of the notes, and I returned them. That is very
+simple.'
+
+'It is all so simple that nobody ever guessed it before.--Now we come to
+the transfers made in the spring of the present year. You wrote a second
+statement regarding them. I will read that as well. Please listen very
+carefully.'
+
+She read the other statement, which you have also seen already. She read
+it very slowly, so that there should be no mistake possible. During the
+reading of these documents Sir Samuel's face expressed every possible
+shade of surprise. Mrs. Arundel, leaning over the table, followed every
+line. Hilda wept--her head gracefully inclined over her
+pocket-handkerchief, as if it was an urn.
+
+'This is your account of the business?'
+
+'Certainly. There is nothing more to be added. It is a plain statement
+of the facts. I do not understand how they could be in any way doubted
+or misrepresented.'
+
+'Would you, Sir Samuel, like to ask Mr. Edmund Gray any question?'
+
+'I don't understand. He says that Mr. Dering wrote a letter for him.'
+
+Elsie showed him the letter they had seen Mr. Dering write, which he was
+passing from one to the other.
+
+'Where are the transfers?' Sir Samuel went on. 'He says they were placed
+by himself in the safe.'
+
+Mr. Edmund Gray rose and walked to the safe. He laid his hands upon a
+packet and took it out. 'These are the papers,' he said.
+
+Sir Samuel opened the roll and looked them over. 'They seem all right,'
+he said. 'This is very wonderful.'
+
+'Wonderful--and sad--most lamentable,' whispered Lady Dering.
+
+'Wonderful, indeed!' Mrs. Arundel echoed. 'Most wonderful! most
+unexpected!'
+
+'A moment more, and I have done.' Elsie again took up the tale. 'Here is
+a cheque to the order of Mr. Dering signed by Mr. Edmund Gray for the
+whole of the money lying in his name at the Bank.--You agree, Master,
+that it is best for the future that all your affairs should be in the
+hands of your solicitor?'
+
+'I quite agree.'
+
+'Here is a letter to the manager of the Bank, requesting him to pay over
+Edmund Gray's dividends to the account of Mr. Dering.--And now I think I
+have proved my case. Here in the safe were the ten-pound notes received
+by Mr. Edmund Gray, and placed there by him. Here were the transfers and
+certificates placed there by him: you have heard half-a-dozen people
+testify to the fact that you have Edmund Gray before you. His statement
+of the business has been read to you. It shows, what no other theory of
+the case could show, how the thing was really done. Lastly, it shows the
+absolute and complete innocence of my brother and of George.--Have you
+anything more to say, Sir Samuel?'
+
+'Nothing--except that I was misled by a statement concerning a
+profligate life among low companions, without which no suspicion could
+have fallen upon either of you gentlemen. It was'--he pointed to the
+unhappy Checkley-'a vile and malignant falsehood. Do you hear, sir? Vile
+and malignant. It only remains for us all to make such reparation as we
+may--nothing would suffice, I know, but such reparation as we can--by
+the expression of the shame and regret that we all feel.'
+
+'Athelstan,' said his mother, 'what can I say? Oh! what can I say?'
+
+Athelstan rose--during the long business he had sat motionless in the
+clients' chair, his head in his hand. Now he rose and stepped over to
+his mother. 'Hush!' he said. 'Not a word. It is all forgotten--all
+forgiven.'
+
+But Hilda sank upon her knees and caught his hands.
+
+'George,' said Sir Samuel, 'forgive me. The case looked black against
+you at one time. It did indeed. Forgive me.' He held out his hand.
+
+Then there was great hand-shaking, embracing, and many tears. As for
+Checkley, he crept out and vanished in the retreat of his own room. 'It
+is all over,' he murmured--'all over. I've lost four hundred pounds a
+year. That's gone. All over--all over!'
+
+Mr. Edmund Gray looked on this happy scene of family reconciliation with
+benevolence and smiles.
+
+Family reconciliations must not be prolonged; you cannot sit over a
+family reconciliation as over a bottle of port. It must be quickly
+despatched. Sir Samuel whispered to Hilda that they had better go.
+
+'Come,' said Lady Dering. 'We will all meet again this evening at
+Pembridge Square--and to-morrow evening--and on Wednesday
+afternoon.--Elsie, you are a witch and a sorceress and a wise woman. You
+said that Athelstan should give you away, and he will.--Brother, come
+with us. Leave Elsie to George.--Oh! how handsome you are looking, my
+poor ill-used brother. Try to forgive us if you can.'
+
+She turned to Mr. Edmund Gray. 'Sir,' she said, 'we ought to be very
+grateful to you--indeed, we are--for enabling us to clear away the
+odious cloud of suspicion which had rolled over our heads. It was very
+good of you to draw out those statements for my sister. But I do think
+that if Mr. Dering had told his old friends about you--about Mr. Edmund
+Gray--we should have been spared a great deal of trouble and unnecessary
+shame.--Good-day, sir.'
+
+Sir Samuel lingered a moment. He looked as if he would appeal to Mr.
+Edmund Gray as to a brother. 'Don't speak to him,' Elsie whispered. 'Let
+him alone. He will become himself again presently. Let him alone.'
+
+So he went out, and the door was shut, and Edmund Gray was left alone
+with George and the Scholar.
+
+'My Master'--Elsie sat down beside him--'I fear you have been
+interrupted. But indeed it was necessary. Don't ask why. Things get into
+a muddle sometimes, don't they? You have gathered something of the
+trouble, too. Now that is all over--past and gone.'
+
+'I am glad for your sake, child.'
+
+'Master--dear Master--I have a confession to make. When I found out who
+you were--I mean what manner of man you were--my only thought at first
+was to coax you and wheedle you and flatter you till you gave me exactly
+the information that I wanted. I confess it. That was my only purpose.
+Nay--more--for the sake of my lover and my brother I would do it again.
+Well--I found that the only way to win your confidence was to pretend to
+be your Scholar and to believe all you taught. So I pretended. So I won
+your confidence. So I obtained all I wanted. So I have made it
+impossible for even the most malignant creature in the world to pretend
+that these two men had anything to do with what they called a forgery.
+But--believe me, dear Master--while I pretended, I was punished, because
+my pretence is turned to certainty.'
+
+'Child, I knew it. You could not pretend--no woman could pretend so as
+to deceive me on a point so simple.'
+
+'Dear Master, you do not know the possibilities of feminine craft. But I
+pretend no more. Oh! I care not how you make your attempt, whether you
+destroy Property or not. Mr. Dering says that Property is
+Civilisation--but I don't care. To me it is enough to dream--to
+know--that there is an Earthly Paradise possible, if only men will
+think so and will keep it before their eyes, though it be as far off as
+the blue hills. It is beautiful only to think of it; the soul is lifted
+up only to think that there is such a place. Keep the eyes of your
+people on this glorious place, dear Master: make it impossible for
+them to forget it or to let it go out of their sight. Then,
+half-unconsciously, they will be running, dragging each other, forcing
+each other--exhorting each other to hurry along the dusty road which
+leads to that Earthly Paradise with its Four-square City of the Jasper
+wall. Preach about it, Master. Write about it. Make all men talk about
+it and think about it.'
+
+She threw her arms round his neck and kissed him.
+
+'Master, we shall be away for a month or two. Then we shall come back,
+and I shall sit at your feet again. You shall come and stay with us. We
+will give you love, and you shall give us hope. I have made my
+confession. Forgive me.'
+
+They left him sitting alone. Presently he arose, put all the papers back
+in the safe, and walked slowly away--to Gray's Inn.
+
+Next morning when he opened his letters he found one marked 'Private.'
+It was from Sir Samuel.
+
+     'DEAR EDWARD,' it said--'We are all very glad to tell you
+     that the business of the shares and certificates is now
+     completely cleared up. Checkley is not in any way concerned
+     in it--nor is George Austin. And I am happy to say there is
+     a complete solution of the former mystery which entirely
+     clears Hilda's brother. Under these circumstances, we are
+     agreed that it is best for you not to trouble yourself about
+     any further investigations. You will find in the safe the
+     transfers, a cheque to yourself of all the money received by
+     Edmund Gray, and an order in the Bank concerning the
+     dividends. You have been the victim of a very remarkable
+     hallucination. I need not explain further. Mr. Edmund Gray,
+     however, is undoubtedly insane. I hear, and have myself
+     observed, that you have been greatly disturbed and
+     distressed by these mysterious events. Now that they are
+     settled finally--I may say that only a happy chance set us
+     on the right track--we all hope that you will be satisfied
+     with our assurance, and that you will not trouble yourself
+     any more in the matter.--Your affectionate brother,
+
+  'SAMUEL DERING.'
+
+Mr. Dering, after reading this letter, got up and looked in the safe,
+where he found the papers referred to. He rang the bell. 'Checkley, who
+has been at my safe?'
+
+'Nobody but you.'
+
+'Don't tell lies. Who put those papers in the safe?'
+
+'They must have been put there yesterday--you were in the room.'
+
+'Yesterday--what happened yesterday?'
+
+Checkley was silent.
+
+'Who was here yesterday?--Go on, Checkley. Don't be afraid.'
+
+'Sir Samuel was here--and Lady Dering--and Mrs. Arundel--and Miss
+Elsie--and your Partner--and Mr. Athelstan. Two or three more came in
+and went away.'
+
+'That will do. You need tell me no more. I don't want to know the
+particulars.--Checkley, my day's work is done. I have thought so for
+some time past. Now I am certain, I shall retire.'
+
+'No--no,' cried Checkley, the tears running down his face. 'Not to
+retire--after all these years--not to retire.'
+
+'I know now the meaning of my fits of forgetfulness. I have feared and
+suspected it for a long time. While I am lost to myself, I am going
+about the world, doing I know not what. And I will not ask. I may be
+this Edmund Gray who preaches Socialism and gives me his precious
+tracts. I may be some one else. I say, Checkley, that I know now what
+has happened to me. Deny it if you can--if you can, I say.'
+
+Checkley did not offer any denial. He hung his head. 'This is the
+meaning of Elsie's strange hints and queer protestations. Half my time I
+am a madman--a madman.--Checkley, ask Mr. Austin to come to me at once.
+My day is done.' He closed his open blotting-pad and placed the unopened
+letters beside it. Then he rose and pushed back his chair--the chair in
+which he had sat for fifty years and more. 'My day is done--my day is
+done.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+THE LAST
+
+
+Mr. Dering left his office, went back to Gray's Inn, and sat down again
+before the Ivory Gate. Those who have once sat for an hour or two in
+this place return to it again and again and never leave it. It is, to
+begin with, the most beautiful gate ever erected. The brain and wit and
+fancy of man could never conceive such a gate, could never execute such
+a conception. It is all of pure ivory, carved with flowers such as never
+grew; curving and flowing lines leading nowhere; figures of maidens
+lovely beyond all dreams; philosophers whose wisdom reaches unto the
+Heavens; statesmen who discern the gathering forces and control the
+destinies of a nation; inventors who conquer nature; physicians who
+prolong life; ecclesiastics who convert the Carthusian cell into a bower
+of delight; poets who here find their fantasies divine; men and women in
+a work-a-day dress who wear the faces of the heavenly host.
+
+All the dreamers lie here, not asleep, but dreaming. Their eyes are
+open, but they do not see each other; they see these dreams. Those of
+the young who are also generous come here and dream until they grow
+older and are chained to their work and can dream no more. Men of all
+conditions come here--even the little shop-boy--even the maiden who
+cleans the knives and polishes the boots--all are here. The young Prince
+is here: the little charity boy is here: the lad whose loftiest ambition
+is that he may one day stand in the pulpit of the little Baptist village
+chapel is here: here is the undergraduate who was Captain of Eton and
+will be Senior Classic and Member of Parliament and Minister--even Prime
+Minister--and will belong to History. The poet is here, and the painter,
+and sometimes hither comes the novelist, and, but more rarely, the
+dramatist. Hither comes the musician to lift up his soul with thoughts
+that only music can give; and the singer, so that he sings more than is
+apparent from the words; and the actor, so that he puts things into the
+play never dreamed by him who wrote it. Great is the power, great the
+gifts, of this noble Gate of Ivory.
+
+Sitting before that gate, such a dreamer as Edmund Gray receives strange
+visions. He sees clearly and near at hand the things which might be, yet
+are not, and never can be until man lays down his garb of selfishness
+and puts on the white robes of Charity. To that dreamer the Kingdom of
+Heaven, which seems to some so far off and to others impossible, so that
+they deride the name of it, is actually close at hand--with us--easy to
+enter if we only choose. He exhorts his fellows to enter with him. And
+they would follow, but they cannot because they are held back by custom
+and necessity. They must obey the laws of the multitude, and so they
+stay where they are. And when the dreamer passes away, his memory is
+quickly lost, and the brightness quickly leaves those dimly-lighted
+lives. Yet other dreamers come--every day there arises an Edmund Gray.
+
+Now when Edmund Gray takes the place of Edward Dering, in which guise
+does the soul, in the end, leave the earth? Are the dreams of Edmund
+Gray perhaps the logical development of the doctrines held by Edward
+Dering? Is the present stage of Individual Property--where every man
+works for himself and his household--one through which the world must
+pass before it can reach the higher level of working each for all? First
+men and women hunt, separate: they live apart in hollow trees and caves.
+Then they live together, and the man hunts for his wife and children.
+Next, they live in communities, which grow into towns and tribes and
+nations. Then men rely upon the protection of the law, and work for
+themselves again. That is our present stage: it has lasted long--very
+long. Perhaps it will break up some day: perhaps sooner than we think.
+Who knows? All things are possible--even the crash and wreck of a
+civilisation which has taken thousands of years to build up. And upon it
+may come--one knows not--that other stage which now belongs to the
+dreamer before the Ivory Gate.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The wedding was held then, as Elsie said it should be, shorn of none of
+its splendours, and relieved of the cloud which had hung over them so
+long and threatened them so gloomily. Athelstan the Exile--Athelstan the
+Ne'er-do-well--Athelstan the Profligate--Athelstan the Resident of
+Camberwell--Athelstan the Smirched and Soiled--stood beside the altar,
+tall and gallant, and gave away the bride for all the world to
+see--nobody in the least ashamed of him. There was not any breath of
+scandal left. Here he was, returned from his travels, a tall and proper
+man, dressed in broadcloth, perhaps with money in purse, prosperous and
+successful in the sight of all. His mother gazed upon him when she
+should have been looking at the bride or into her Prayer Book. Her eyes
+were red, but then a mother is allowed a tear or two when her daughter
+leaves the nest. And as to those who had whispered words about family
+jars, quarrels and estrangements, or had spoken against the fair fame of
+the groom, they were now as mute as mice.
+
+All the richer members of the House of Arundel--the City Arundels--were
+present. One of them--chief partner in a leading firm of
+accountants--afterwards computed, for the greater increase of the family
+glory, how many hundreds of thousands of pounds were gathered together
+at one moment beneath that sacred roof. He counted the members, and made
+that little addition, during the performance of the ceremony. Those of
+the Austins who were not disgracefully poor--there are some branches of
+the family, I believe, pretty low down--were also present. And the
+company went to Pembridge Square after the service, gazed admiringly at
+the wedding presents, and drank the health of the bride and bridegroom,
+and gathered with cousinly curiosity round the returned Prodigal. But
+they knew nothing--mind you--of his connection with Camberwell. And
+nothing about his supposed complicity in the Edmund Gray business. There
+had been, happily, no scandal.
+
+Among the company in the church was Mr. Dering. He stood tall and erect,
+his coat buttoned, his face keen and hard, the family lawyer stamped by
+nature and long custom.
+
+Presently, when the service was about half way through, a change came
+over him. His face relaxed: the lines curved just a little laterally,
+the austerity vanished, his eyes brightened. He took off his gloves
+furtively and opened his coat. He was Edmund Gray. In that capacity he
+afterwards drank to the bride and wished her happiness. And he walked
+all the way from Pembridge Square to South Square, Gray's Inn.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I see in the future an old man growing feeble: he leans upon the arm of
+a girl whom he calls his Scholar, his disciple, and his child. His face
+is serene: he is perfectly happy: the Advent of that Kingdom whose
+glories he preaches is very nigh at hand. He lives in the house of his
+disciple: he has forgotten the very existence of his lawyer: he goes no
+more to Lincoln's Inn: always he is lying, night and day, before that
+miracle of carven work in Ivory. There he watches--it is his Vision--the
+long procession of those who work and sing at their work and are happy,
+work they ever so hard, because they work each for all and all for each.
+And there is no more sorrow or crying and no more pain. What hath the
+Gate of Horn--through which is allowed nothing but what is
+true--bitterly true--absolutely true--nakedly, coldly, shiveringly
+true--to show in comparison with this? A crowd trampling upon each
+other: men who enslave and rob each other: men and women and children
+lying in misery--men and women and children starving.--Let us fly, my
+brothers--let us swiftly fly--let us hasten--to the Gate of Ivory.
+
+
+
+
+_OPINIONS OF THE PRESS_
+
+ON
+
+THE IVORY GATE.
+
+By WALTER BESANT.
+
+
+'The novel shows us throughout that Mr. Besant is one of those
+fortunates who find fresh material.... Mr. Besant is a popular novelist,
+but he shows here an artist's appreciation of whimsical contrast, and an
+artist's skill in the delineation of character.... We are inclined to
+think "The Ivory Gate" worthy of the past reputation of Mr. Besant, and
+indicative of future development.'--SPEAKER.
+
+'It would be impossible to discuss at length the many and great merits
+of "The Ivory Gate" without telling the story, and it is certainly a
+story to be read, not to be told.... Our interest in the story never
+flags for a moment. Neither in the "Golden Butterfly," nor "The Chaplain
+of the Fleet," are there any characters to equal the city knight, Sir
+Samuel Dering, and his wife Hilda, or the old clerk Checkley.'--SATURDAY
+REVIEW.
+
+'The writing in "The Ivory Gate" has that nameless charm which belongs
+to everything that comes from Mr. Besant's pen.'--NATIONAL REVIEW.
+
+'The complications arising from the situation are cleverly worked out,
+with all the love of detail and the dramatic skill which always
+distinguishes Mr. Besant's workmanship.'--TIMES.
+
+'The subject of the novel is a strong one, and it might have been made
+most powerful; but the dreams that come to Mr. Dering through the Ivory
+Gate are such happy ones, and he himself is so much more lovable
+dreaming than awake, that the pathos of the situation does not weigh too
+heavily upon the reader.'--GUARDIAN.
+
+'A story told in the author's happiest manner.... The spirit which
+pervades the story is akin to that which pervades "All Sorts and
+Conditions of Men."... There is a good deal of the feeling of Dickens in
+this pleasantly interesting story.'--SPORTING LIFE.
+
+'The story is interesting, imaginative, abounding in matter for thought,
+and is in Mr. Besant's happiest style.'--DAILY NEWS.
+
+'Mr. Besant's story is a solid boon, a fantasy in which he half escapes
+from the commonplace veracities of existence, and yet keeps his readers'
+feet on the London flagstones throughout.'--ATHENAEUM.
+
+'A delightful work.... A charming tale, full of life and interest.... As
+a story it is in all respects excellent. It is worked out with skill and
+power. There are many very fine passages. "The Ivory Gate" is charming
+in its originality, and in the simplicity and force with which the plot
+is developed.'--SCOTSMAN.
+
+'There is a good deal that is pleasant in "The Ivory Gate."... Both hero
+and heroine are admirable.'--DAILY CHRONICLE.
+
+'Mr. Besant has hit on rather a felicitous subject, which is very well
+wrought out----We venture to predict that hours spent over "The Ivory
+Gate" will be pleasant.'--SCOTTISH LEADER.
+
+'Mr. Besant illustrates a very curious phase of madness; he preaches a
+highly poetical kind of socialism, and he gives us a clear and
+attractive picture of ordinary English life.... The story is full of
+interesting characters.'--GLASGOW HERALD.
+
+'The story is cleverly planned and thoroughly readable from beginning to
+end.'--LEEDS MERCURY.
+
+'"The Ivory Gate" is a novel of considerable interest, and it is a story
+that is told in Mr. Besant's best style.'--PALL MALL GAZETTE.
+
+'The story is cleverly told and effective.'--MORNING POST.
+
+
+
+
+[_October, 1892_]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A List of Books
+
+PUBLISHED BY
+
+CHATTO & WINDUS,
+
+214, Piccadilly, London, W.
+
+_Sold by all Booksellers, or sent post-free for the published price by
+the Publishers._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ABOUT.--THE FELLAH:= An Egyptian Novel. By EDMOND ABOUT. Translated by
+SIR RANDAL ROBERTS. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ADAMS (W. DAVENPORT), WORKS BY.
+
+     =A DICTIONARY OF THE DRAMA.= Being a comprehensive Guide to
+     the Plays, Playwrights, Players, and Playhouses of the
+     United Kingdom and America. Crown 8vo half-bound, =12s. 6d.=
+     [_Preparing._]
+
+     =QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES.= Selected by W. D. ADAMS. Post 8vo,
+     cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=AGONY COLUMN (THE) OF "THE TIMES,"= from 1800 to 1870. Edited, with an
+Introduction, by ALICE CLAY. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=AIDE (HAMILTON), WORKS BY.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =CARR OF CARRLYON.=
+
+     =CONFIDENCES.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ALBERT.--BROOKE FINCHLEY'S DAUGHTER.= By MARY ALBERT. Post 8vo, picture
+boards, =2s.=; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ALDEN.--A LOST SOUL.= By W. L. ALDEN. Fcap. 8vo, cl. bds., =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ALEXANDER (MRS.), NOVELS BY.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW?=
+
+     =VALERIE'S FATE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ALLEN (F. M.).--GREEN AS GRASS.= By F. M. ALLEN, Author of "Through
+Green Glasses." With a Frontispiece by JOSEPH SMYTH. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ALLEN (GRANT), WORKS BY.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.= each.
+
+     =THE EVOLUTIONIST AT LARGE.=
+
+     =COLIN CLOUT'S CALENDAR.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =PHILISTIA.=
+
+     =BABYLON.=
+
+     =STRANGE STORIES.=
+
+     =BECKONING HAND.=
+
+     =FOR MAIMIE'S SAKE.=
+
+     =IN ALL SHADES.=
+
+     =THE DEVIL'S DIE.=
+
+     =THIS MORTAL COIL.=
+
+     =THE TENTS OF SHEM.=
+
+     =THE GREAT TABOO.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =DUMARESQ'S DAUGHTER.=
+
+     =THE DUCHESS OF POWYSLAND.=
+
+     =BLOOD ROYAL.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=AMERICAN LITERATURE, A LIBRARY OF,= from the Earliest Settlement to the
+Present Time. Compiled and Edited by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN and ELLEN
+MACKAY HUTCHINSON. Eleven Vols., royal 8vo, cloth extra, =L6 12s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ARCHITECTURAL STYLES. A HANDBOOK OF=. By A. ROSENGARTEN. Translated by
+W. COLLETT-SANDARS. With 639 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ART (THE) OF AMUSING:= A Collection of Graceful Arts, Games, Tricks,
+Puzzles, and Charades. By FRANK BELLEW. 300 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex.,
+=4s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ARNOLD (EDWIN LESTER), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =THE WONDERFUL ADVENTURES OF PHRA THE PHOENICIAN.= With
+     Introduction by Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, and 12 Illusts. by H. M.
+     PAGET. Cr. 8vo, cl., =3s. 6d.=
+
+     =THE CONSTABLE OF ST. NICHOLAS.= Crown 8vo, cloth, =3s. 6d.=
+     [_Shortly._]
+
+     =BIRD LIFE IN ENGLAND.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ARTEMUS WARD'S WORKS:= The Works of CHARLES FARRER BROWNE, better known
+as ARTEMUS WARD. With Portrait and Facsimile. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+=7s. 6d.=--Also a POPULAR EDITION, post 8vo, picture boards, =2s.=
+
+     =THE GENIAL SHOWMAN:= Life and Adventures of ARTEMUS WARD. By
+     EDWARD P. HINGSTON. With a Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ASHTON (JOHN), WORKS BY.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =HISTORY OF THE CHAP-BOOKS OF THE 18th CENTURY.= With 334
+     Illusts.
+
+     =SOCIAL LIFE IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE.= With 85
+     Illustrations.
+
+     =HUMOUR, WIT, AND SATIRE OF SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.= With 82
+     Illusts.
+
+     =ENGLISH CARICATURE AND SATIRE ON NAPOLEON THE FIRST.= 115
+     Illusts.
+
+     =MODERN STREET BALLADS.= With 57 Illustrations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BACTERIA.-A SYNOPSIS OF THE BACTERIA AND YEAST FUNGI AND ALLIED
+SPECIES.= By W. B. GROVE, B.A. With 87 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BARDSLEY (REV. C. W.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =ENGLISH SURNAMES:= Their Sources and Significations. Cr. 8vo,
+     cloth, =7s. 6d.=
+
+     =CURIOSITIES OF PURITAN NOMENCLATURE.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+     =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BARING GOULD (S.,= Author of "John Herring," &c.), =NOVELS BY.= Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+each.
+
+     =RED SPIDER.=
+
+     =EVE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BARRETT (FRANK,= Author of "Lady Biddy Fane,") =NOVELS BY.= Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, =2s.= each; cloth. =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =FETTERED FOR LIFE.=
+
+     =THE SIN OF OLGA ZASSOULICH.=
+
+     =BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH.=
+
+     =FOLLY MORRISON.=
+
+     =HONEST DAVIE.=
+
+     =LIEUT. BARNABAS.=
+
+     =A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS.=
+
+     =JOHN FORD;= and =HIS HELPMATE.=
+
+     =A RECOILING VENGEANCE.=
+
+     =FOUND GUILTY.=
+
+     =FOR LOVE AND HONOUR.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BEACONSFIELD, LORD:= A Biography. By T. P. O'CONNOR, M.P. Sixth
+Edition, with an Introduction. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =5s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BEAUCHAMP.--GRANTLEY GRANGE:= A Novel. By SHELSLEY BEAUCHAMP. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BEAUTIFUL PICTURES BY BRITISH ARTISTS:= A Gathering of Favourites from
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+the Artists by SYDNEY ARMYTAGE, M.A. Imperial 4to. cloth extra, gilt
+edges, =21s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BECHSTEIN.--AS PRETTY AS SEVEN,= and other German Stories. Collected by
+LUDWIG BECHSTEIN. With Additional Tales by the Brothers GRIMM, and 98
+Illustrations by RICHTER. Square 8vo, cloth extra, =6s. 6d.=; gilt
+edges, =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BEERBOHM.--WANDERINGS IN PATAGONIA;= or, Life among the Ostrich
+Hunters. By JULIUS BEERBOHM. With Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BENNETT (W. C., LL.D.), WORKS BY.= Post 8vo, cloth limp. =2s.= each.
+
+     =A BALLAD HISTORY OF ENGLAND.=
+
+     =SONGS FOR SAILORS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BESANT (WALTER), NOVELS BY.=
+
+Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.= each;
+cl. limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.= With Illustrations by FRED.
+     BARNARD.
+
+     =THE CAPTAINS' ROOM,= &c. With Frontispiece by E. J. WHEELER.
+
+     =ALL IN A GARDEN FAIR.= With 6 Illustrations by HARRY FURNISS.
+
+     =DOROTHY FORSTER.= With Frontispiece by CHARLES GREEN.
+
+     =UNCLE JACK,= and other Stories.
+
+     =CHILDREN OF GIBEON.=
+
+     =THE WORLD WENT VERY WELL THEN.= With 12 Illustrations by A.
+     FORESTIER.
+
+     =HERR PAULUS:= His Rise, his Greatness, and his Fall.
+
+     =FOR FAITH AND FREEDOM.= With Illustrations by A. FORESTIER
+     and F. WADDY.
+
+     =TO CALL HER MINE,= &c. With 9 Illustrations by A. FORESTIER.
+
+     =THE BELL OF ST. PAUL'S.=
+
+     =THE HOLY ROSE,= &c. With Frontispiece by F. BARNARD.
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =ARMOREL OF LYONESSE:= A Romance of To-day. With 12 Illusts.
+     by F. BARNARD.
+
+     =ST. KATHERINE'S BY THE TOWER.= With 12 page Illustrations by
+     C. GREEN.
+
+     =VERBENA CAMELLIA STEPHANOTIS,= &c. Frontispiece by GORDON
+     BROWNE.
+
+     =FIFTY YEARS AGO.= With 144 Plates and Woodcuts. Cheaper
+     Edition, Revised, with a New Preface, &c. Crown 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =5s.=
+
+     =THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFERIES.= With Portrait. Cr. 8vo, cl.
+     extra, =6s.=
+
+     =THE ART OF FICTION.= Demy 8vo, =1s.=
+
+     =LONDON.= With 124 Illustrations. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, =18s.=
+
+     =THE IVORY GATE;= A Novel. Three Vols., crown 8vo,
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BESANT (WALTER) AND JAMES RICE, NOVELS BY.=
+
+Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.= each;
+cl. limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =READY-MONEY MORTIBOY.=
+
+     =MY LITTLE GIRL.=
+
+     =WITH HARP AND CROWN.=
+
+     =THIS SON OF VULCAN.=
+
+     =THE GOLDEN BUTTERFLY.=
+
+     =THE MONKS OF THELEMA.=
+
+     =BY CELIA'S ARBOUR.=
+
+     =THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.=
+
+     =THE SEAMY SIDE.=
+
+     =THE CASE OF MR. LUCRAFT,= &c.
+
+     ='TWAS IN TRAFALGAR'S BAY=, &c.
+
+     =THE TEN YEARS' TENANT,= &c.
+
+There is also a LIBRARY EDITION of the above Twelve Volumes, handsomely
+set in new type, on a large crown 8vo page, and bound in cloth extra,
+=6s.= each.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BEWICK (THOMAS) AND HIS PUPILS.= By AUSTIN DOBSON. With 95
+Illustrations. Square 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BIERCE.--IN THE MIDST OF LIFE:= Tales of Soldiers and Civilians. By
+AMBROSE BIERCE. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BLACKBURN'S (HENRY) ART HANDBOOKS.=
+
+     =ACADEMY NOTES,= separate years, from 1875-1887, 1889-1891,
+     each =1s.=
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+     =ACADEMY NOTES, 1892.= With Illustrations. =1s.=
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+     =ACADEMY NOTES, 1875-79.= Complete in One Vol., with 600
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+
+     =ACADEMY NOTES, 1880-84.= Complete in One Vol. with 700
+     Illusts. Cloth limp, =6s.=
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+     =GROSVENOR NOTES, 1877.= =6d.=
+
+     =GROSVENOR NOTES,= separate years, from =1878= to =1890=,
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+     =GROSVENOR NOTES, Vol. I., 1877-82.= With 300 illusts. Demy
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+     =GROSVENOR NOTES, Vol. II., 1883-87.= With 300 Illusts. Demy
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+     =THE NEW GALLERY, 1888-1891.= With numerous Illustrations,
+     each =1s.=
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+     =THE NEW GALLERY, 1892.= With Illustrations. =1s.=
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+     =THE NEW GALLERY, Vol. I., 1888-1892.= With 250 Illusts. Demy
+     8vo, cloth, =6s.=
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+     =ENGLISH PICTURES AT THE NATIONAL GALLERY.= 114 Illustrations.
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+     =THE PARIS SALON, 1892.= With Facsimile Sketches. =3s.=
+
+     =THE PARIS SOCIETY OF FINE ARTS, 1892.= With Sketches. =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BLAKE (WILLIAM):= India-proof Etchings from his Works by WILLIAM BELL
+SCOTT. With descriptive Text. Folio, half-bound boards, =21s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BLIND (MATHILDE),= Poems by. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =5s.= each.
+
+     =THE ASCENT OF MAN.=
+
+     =DRAMAS IN MINIATURE.= With a Frontispiece by FORD MADOX
+     BROWN.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BOURNE (H. R. FOX), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =ENGLISH MERCHANTS:= Memoirs in Illustration of the Progress
+     of British Commerce. With numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo,
+     cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
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+     =ENGLISH NEWSPAPERS:= The History of Journalism. Two Vols.,
+     demy 8vo, cl., =25s.=
+
+     =THE OTHER SIDE OF THE EMIN PASHA RELIEF EXPEDITION.= Crown
+     8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BOWERS.--LEAVES FROM A HUNTING JOURNAL.= By GEORGE BOWERS. Oblong
+folio, half-bound, =21s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BOYLE (FREDERICK), WORKS BY.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =CHRONICLES OF NO-MAN'S LAND.=
+
+     =CAMP NOTES.=
+
+=SAVAGE LIFE.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, picture
+boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BRAND'S OBSERVATIONS ON POPULAR ANTIQUITIES;= chiefly illustrating the
+Origin of our Vulgar Customs, Ceremonies, and Superstitions. With the
+Additions of Sir HENRY ELLIS, and Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra,
+=7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BREWER (REV. DR.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =THE READER'S HANDBOOK OF ALLUSIONS, REFERENCES, PLOTS, AND
+     STORIES.= Fifteenth Thousand. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+     =AUTHORS AND THEIR WORKS, WITH THE DATES:= Being the
+     Appendices to "The Reader's Handbook," separately printed.
+     Crown 8vo, cloth limp, =2s.=
+
+     =A DICTIONARY OF MIRACLES.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BREWSTER (SIR DAVID), WORKS BY.= Post 8vo cl. ex. =4s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =MORE WORLDS THAN ONE:= Creed of Philosopher and Hope of
+     Christian. Plates.
+
+     =THE MARTYRS OF SCIENCE:= GALILEO, TYCHO BRAHE, and KEPLER.
+     With Portraits.
+
+     =LETTERS ON NATURAL MAGIC.= With numerous Illustrations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BRILLAT-SAVARIN.--GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART.= By BRILLAT-SAVARIN.
+Translated by R. E. ANDERSON, M.A. Post 8vo, half-bound, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BRET HARTE, WORKS BY.=
+
+LIBRARY EDITION. In Seven Volumes, crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.= each.
+
+     =BRET HARTE'S COLLECTED WORKS.= Arranged and Revised by the
+     Author.
+
+     Vol. I. COMPLETE POETICAL AND DRAMATIC WORKS. With Steel
+     Portrait.
+
+     Vol. II. LUCK OF ROARING CAMP--BOHEMIAN PAPERS--AMERICAN
+     LEGENDS.
+
+     Vol. III. TALES OF THE ARGONAUTS--EASTERN SKETCHES.
+
+     Vol. IV. GABRIEL CONROY.
+
+     Vol. V. STORIES--CONDENSED NOVELS, &c.
+
+     Vol. VI. TALES OF THE PACIFIC SLOPE.
+
+     Vol. VII. TALES OF THE PACIFIC SLOPE--II. With Portrait by
+     JOHN PETTIE, R.A.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =THE SELECT WORKS OF BRET HARTE, in Prose and Poetry.= With
+     Introductory Essay by J. M. BELLEW. Portrait of Author, and
+     50 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., =7s. 6d.=
+
+     =BRET HARTE'S POETICAL WORKS.= Hand-made paper & buckram. Cr.
+     8vo, =4s. 6d.=
+
+     THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE. With 28 original Drawings by
+     KATE GREENAWAY, reproduced in Colours by EDMUND EVANS. Small
+     4to, cloth, =5s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =A WAIF OF THE PLAINS.= With 60 Illustrations by STANLEY L.
+     WOOD.
+
+     =A WARD OF THE GOLDEN GATE.= With 59 Illustrations by STANLEY
+     L. WOOD.
+
+     =A SAPPHO OF GREEN SPRINGS,= &c. With Two Illustrations by
+     HUME NISBET.
+
+     =COLONEL STARBOTTLE'S CLIENT, AND SOME OTHER PEOPLE.= With a
+     Frontispiece by FRED. BARNARD.
+
+     =SALLY DOWS,= &c. With a Frontispiece.
+
+     =SUSY:= A Novel. With a Frontispiece. [_Shortly._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =GABRIEL CONROY.=
+
+     =AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG,= &c.
+
+     =THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP,= &c.
+
+     =CALIFORNIAN STORIES.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =FLIP.=
+
+     =MARUJA.=
+
+     =A PHYLLIS OF THE SIERRAS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Fcap. 8vo, picture cover, =1s.= each.
+
+     =THE TWINS OF TABLE MOUNTAIN.=
+
+     =SNOW BOUND AT EAGLE'S.=
+
+     =JEFF BRIGGS'S LOVE STORY.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BRYDGES.--UNCLE SAM AT HOME.= By HAROLD BRYDGES. Post 8vo, illustrated
+boards, =2s.=; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BUCHANAN'S (ROBERT) WORKS.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.= each.
+
+     =SELECTED POEMS OF ROBERT BUCHANAN.= With Frontispiece by T.
+     DALZIEL.
+
+     =THE EARTHQUAKE;= or, Six Days and a Sabbath.
+
+     =THE CITY OF DREAM:= An Epic Poem. With Two Illustrations by
+     P. MACNAB.
+
+     =THE OUTCAST:= A Rhyme for the Time. With 15 Illustrations by
+     RUDOLF BLIND, PETER MACNAB, and HUME NISBET. Small demy 8vo,
+     cloth extra, =8s.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =ROBERT BUCHANAN'S COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS.= With Steel-plate
+     Portrait. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each
+
+     =THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD.=
+
+     =A CHILD OF NATURE.= Frontispiece.
+
+     =GOD AND THE MAN.= With 11 Illustrations by FRED. BARNARD.
+
+     =THE MARTYRDOM OF MADELINE.= With Frontispiece by A. W.
+     COOPER.
+
+     =LOVE ME FOR EVER.= Frontispiece.
+
+     =ANNAN WATER.=
+
+     =FOXGLOVE MANOR.=
+
+     =THE NEW ABELARD.=
+
+     =MATT:= A Story of a Caravan. Front.
+
+     =THE MASTER OF THE MINE.= Front.
+
+     =THE HEIR OF LINNE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BURTON (CAPTAIN).--THE BOOK OF THE SWORD:= Being a History of the Sword
+and its Use in all Countries, from the Earliest Times. By RICHARD F.
+BURTON. With over 400 Illustrations. Square 8vo, cloth extra. =32s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=BURTON (ROBERT).=
+
+     =THE ANATOMY OF MELANCHOLY:= A New Edition, with translations
+     of the Classical Extracts. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+     =MELANCHOLY ANATOMISED:= Being an Abridgment, for popular use,
+     of BURTON'S ANATOMY OF MELANCHOLY. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s.
+     6d.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CAINE (T. HALL), NOVELS BY.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each;
+post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =SHADOW OF A CRIME.=
+
+     =A SON OF HAGAR.=
+
+     =THE DEEMSTER.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CAMERON (COMMANDER).--THE CRUISE OF THE "BLACK PRINCE" PRIVATEER.= By
+V. LOVETT CAMERON, R.N., C.B. With Two Illustrations by P. MACNAB. Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, =5s.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CAMERON (MRS. H. LOVETT), NOVELS BY.= Post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.=
+each.
+
+     =JULIET'S GUARDIAN.=
+
+     =DECEIVERS EVER.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CARLYLE (THOMAS) ON THE CHOICE OF BOOKS.= With Life by R. H. SHEPHERD,
+and Three Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra, =1s. 6d.=
+
+     =THE CORRESPONDENCE OF THOMAS CARLYLE AND RALPH WALDO
+     EMERSON, 1834 to 1872.= Edited by CHARLES ELIOT NORTON. With
+     Portraits. Two Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, =24s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+Portrait and Facsimile Letter. Small demy 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CHAPMAN'S (GEORGE) WORKS.= Vol. I. contains the Plays complete,
+including the doubtful ones. Vol. II., the Poems and Minor Translations,
+with an Introductory Essay by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE. Vol. III., the
+Translations of the Iliad and Odyssey. Three Vols., crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, =6s.= each.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CHATTO AND JACKSON.--A TREATISE ON WOOD ENGRAVING,= Historical and
+Practical. By WILLIAM ANDREW CHATTO and JOHN JACKSON. With an Additional
+Chapter by HENRY G. BOHN, and 450 fine Illusts. Large 4to. hf.-bd.,
+=28s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
+     =PAUL FERROLL.=
+
+     =WHY PAUL FERROLL KILLED HIS WIFE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CLODD.--MYTHS AND DREAMS.= By EDWARD CLODD, F.R.A.S. Second Edition,
+Revised. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
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+illustrated boards, =2s.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =FROM MIDNIGHT TO MIDNIGHT.=
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+     =BLACKSMITH AND SCHOLAR.=
+
+     =TRANSMIGRATION.=
+
+     =YOU PLAY ME FALSE.=
+
+     =A VILLAGE COMEDY.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
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+     =SWEET ANNE PAGE.=
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+
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+     MAHONEY.
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+     =HIDE AND SEEK.= Illustrated by Sir JOHN GILBERT, R.A., and J.
+     MAHONEY.
+
+     =AFTER DARK.= With Illustrations by A. B. HOUGHTON.
+
+     =THE DEAD SECRET.= With a Frontispiece by Sir JOHN GILBERT,
+     R.A.
+
+     =QUEEN OF HEARTS.= With a Frontispiece by Sir JOHN GILBERT,
+     R.A.
+
+     =THE WOMAN IN WHITE.= With Illusts. by Sir J. GILBERT, R.A.,
+     and F. A. FRASER.
+
+     =NO NAME.= With Illustrations by Sir J. E. MILLAIS, R.A., and
+     A. W. COOPER.
+
+     =MY MISCELLANIES.= With a Steel-plate Portrait of WILKIE
+     COLLINS.
+
+     =ARMADALE.= With Illustrations by G. H. THOMAS.
+
+     =THE MOONSTONE.= With Illustrations by G. DU MAURIER and F. A.
+     FRASER.
+
+     =MAN AND WIFE.= With Illustrations by WILLIAM SMALL.
+
+     =POOR MISS FINCH.= Illustrated by G. DU MAURIER and EDWARD
+     HUGHES.
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+     WOODS, A.R.A.
+
+     =THE NEW MAGDALEN.= Illustrated by G. DU MAURIER and C. S.
+     REINHARDT.
+
+     =THE FROZEN DEEP.= Illustrated by G. DU MAURIER and J.
+     MAHONEY.
+
+     =THE LAW AND THE LADY.= Illusts. by S. L. FILDES, R.A., and
+     SYDNEY HALL.
+
+     =THE TWO DESTINIES.=
+
+     =THE HAUNTED HOTEL.= Illustrated by ARTHUR HOPKINS.
+
+     =THE FALLEN LEAVES.=
+
+     =JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER.=
+
+     =THE BLACK ROBE.=
+
+     =HEART AND SCIENCE.=
+
+     ="I SAY NO."=
+
+     =A ROGUE'S LIFE.=
+
+     =THE EVIL GENIUS.=
+
+     =LITTLE NOVELS.=
+
+     =THE LEGACY OF CAIN.=
+
+     =BLIND LOVE.= With Preface by WALTER BESANT, and Illusts. by
+     A. FORESTIER.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+and other Humorous Works of GEORGE COLMAN. With Life by G. B. BUCKSTONE,
+and Frontispiece by HOGARTH. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
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+of Silence." Two Vols., crown 8vo.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     Edition. Two Vols., demy 8vo, cloth extra, =28s.=
+
+     =A NECKLACE OF STORIES.= 25 Illusts. by W. J. HENNESSY. Sq.
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+     =21s.=
+
+     =GEORGE WASHINGTON'S RULES OF CIVILITY= Traced to their
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =PAUL FOSTER'S DAUGHTER.= Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo,
+     illust. boards, =2s.=
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+     =LEO.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=CORNWALL.--POPULAR ROMANCES OF THE WEST OF ENGLAND;= or, The Drolls,
+Traditions, and Superstitions of Old Cornwall. Collected by ROBERT HUNT,
+F.R.S. Two Steel-plates by GEO. CRUIKSHANK. Cr. 8vo, cl., =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=COTES.--TWO GIRLS ON A BARGE.= By V. CECIL COTES. With 44 Illustrations
+by F. H. TOWNSEND.--Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+CRADDOCK. Post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.=; cl. limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+by DAN. BEARD. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
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+=CROKER (B.M.), NOVELS BY.= Post 8vo, =2s.= each; cloth, =2s. 6d.= each.
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+     =DIANA BARRINGTON.=
+
+     =PROPER PRIDE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=A FAMILY LIKENESS.= Three Vols., crown 8vo.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CRUIKSHANK'S COMIC ALMANACK.= Complete in TWO SERIES: The FIRST from
+1835 to 1843; the SECOND from 1844 to 1853. A Gathering of the BEST
+HUMOUR of THACKERAY, HOOD, MAYHEW, ALBERT SMITH, A'BECKETT, ROBERT
+BROUGH, &c. With numerous Steel Engravings and Woodcuts by CRUIKSHANK,
+HINE, LANDELLS, &c. Two Vols, crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =THE LIFE OF GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.= By BLANCHARD JERROLD. With 84
+     Illustrations and a Bibliography. Crown 8vo, cloth extra =7s.
+     6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =IN THE HEBRIDES.= With Autotype Facsimile and 23
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+
+     =IN THE HIMALAYAS AND ON THE INDIAN PLAINS.= With 42
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=CUSSANS.--A HANDBOOK OF HERALDRY;= with Instructions for Tracing
+Pedigrees and Deciphering Ancient MSS., &c. By JOHN E. CUSSANS. With 408
+Woodcuts, Two Coloured and Two Plain Plates. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+=7s. 6d.=
+
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+=2s.=
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+Illustrations by ROBERT CRUIKSHANK. Crown 8vo, cloth extra =3s. 6d.=
+
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+8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
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+SONS.= By F. DAVENANT, M.A. Post 8vo, =1s.=; cl., =1s. 6d.=
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+     =ONE THOUSAND MEDICAL MAXIMS AND SURGICAL HINTS.=
+
+     =NURSERY HINTS:= A Mother's Guide in Health and Disease.
+
+     =FOODS FOR THE FAT:= A Treatise on Corpulency, and a Dietary
+     for its Cure.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=AIDS TO LONG LIFE.= Crown 8vo, =2s.=; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=DAVIES' (SIR JOHN) COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS,= for the first time
+Collected and Edited, with Memorial-Introduction and Notes, by the Rev.
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+NISBET. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
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+6d.=
+
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =OUR LADY OF TEARS.=
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+     =OLIVER TWIST.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     and Out-of-the-Way Matters. By =Eliezer Edwards=. Crown 8vo,
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
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+     =LITERARY FRIVOLITIES, FANCIES, FOLLIES, AND FROLICS.=
+
+     =POETICAL INGENUITIES AND ECCENTRICITIES.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=DONOVAN (DICK), DETECTIVE STORIES BY.=
+
+Post 8vo illustrated boards, 2s. each; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =THE MAN-HUNTER.=
+
+     =WANTED!=
+
+     =CAUGHT AT LAST!=
+
+     =TRACKED AND TAKEN.=
+
+     =WHO POISONED HETTY DUNCAN?=
+
+     =A DETECTIVE'S TRIUMPHS.=
+
+     =IN THE GRIP OF THE LAW.=
+
+     =FROM INFORMATION RECEIVED.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =THE MAN FROM MANCHESTER.= With 23 Illustrations. Crown 8vo,
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+
+     =TRACKED TO DOOM.= With 6 full-page Illustrations by GORDON
+     BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=DRAMATISTS, THE OLD.= With Vignette Portraits. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., =6s.=
+per Vol.
+
+     =BEN JONSON'S WORKS.= With Notes Critical and Explanatory, and
+     a Biographical Memoir by WM. GIFFORD. Edited by Col.
+     CUNNINGHAM. Three Vols.
+
+     =CHAPMAN'S WORKS.= Complete in Three Vols. Vol. I. contains
+     the Plays complete; Vol. II., Poems and Minor Translations,
+     with an Introductory Essay by A. C. SWINBURNE; Vol. III.,
+     Translations of the Iliad and Odyssey.
+
+     =MARLOWE'S WORKS.= Edited, with Notes, by Col. CUNNINGHAM. One
+     Vol.
+
+     =MASSINGER'S PLAYS.= From GIFFORD's Text. Edit by Col.
+     CUNNINGHAM. One Vol.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=DUNCAN (SARA JEANNETTE), WORKS BY.=
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+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =A SOCIAL DEPARTURE:= How Orthodocia and I Went round the
+     World by Ourselves. With 111 Illustrations by F. H.
+     TOWNSEND.
+
+     =AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON.= With 80 Illustrations by F. H.
+     TOWNSEND.
+
+     =THE SIMPLE ADVENTURES OF MEM SAHIB.= Numerous Illusts.
+     [_Preparing._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=EARLY ENGLISH POETS.= Edited, with Introductions and Annotations, by
+Rev. A. B. GROSART, D.D. Crown 8vo, cloth boards, =6s.= per Volume.
+
+     =FLETCHER'S (GILES) COMPLETE POEMS.= One Vol.
+
+     =DAVIES' (SIR JOHN) COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS.= Two Vols.
+
+     =HERRICK'S (ROBERT) COMPLETE COLLECTED POEMS.= Three Vols.
+
+     =SIDNEY'S (SIR PHILIP) COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS.= Three Vols.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=EDGCUMBE.--ZEPHYRUS:= A Holiday in Brazil and on the River Plate. By
+E. R. PEARCE EDGCUMBE. With 41 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+Introduction by Rev. DR. H. WACE, and 4 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth
+ex., =5s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=EGGLESTON (EDWARD).--ROXY:= A Novel. Post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=EMANUEL.--ON DIAMONDS AND PRECIOUS STONES:= Their History, Value, and
+Properties; with Simple Tests for ascertaining their Reality. By HARRY
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+ex., =6s.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+ENGLISHMAN'S HOUSE, THE: A Practical Guide to all interested in
+Selecting or Building a House; with Estimates of Cost, Quantities, &c.
+By C. J. RICHARDSON. With Coloured Frontispiece and 600 illusts. Crown
+8vo, cloth, =7s. 6d.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=EWALD (ALEX. CHARLES, F.S.A.), WORKS BY.=
+
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+     (THE YOUNG PRETENDER). With a Portrait. Crown 8vo, cloth
+     extra =7s. 6d.=
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+     =STORIES FROM THE STATE PAPERS,= With an Autotype. Crown 8vo,
+     cloth, =6s.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=EYES, OUR:= How to Preserve Them from Infancy to Old Age. By JOHN
+BROWNING, F.R.A.S. With 70 Illusts. Eighteenth Thousand. Crown 8vo,
+=1s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=FAMILIAR SHORT SAYINGS OF GREAT MEN.= By SAMUEL ARTHUR BENT, A.M. Fifth
+Edition, Revised and Enlarged. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+
+     =THE CHEMICAL HISTORY OF A CANDLE:= Lectures delivered before
+     a Juvenile Audience. Edited by WILLIAM CROOKES, F.C.S. With
+     numerous Illustrations.
+
+     =ON THE VARIOUS FORCES OF NATURE, AND THEIR RELATIONS TO EACH
+     OTHER.= Edited by WILLIAM CROOKES, F.C.S. With Illustrations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+Author of "Double Cunning," &c. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+Dining. By FIN-BEC. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=FIREWORKS, THE COMPLETE ART OF MAKING;= or, The Pyrotechnist's
+Treasury. By THOMAS KENTISH. With 267 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cl., =5s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =THE WORLD BEHIND THE SCENES.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
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+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =BELLA DONNA.=
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+     =POLLY.=
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+     =LADY OF BRANTOME.=
+
+     =NEVER FORGOTTEN.=
+
+     =THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON.=
+
+     =SEVENTY-FIVE BROOKE STREET.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     his Sayings, Doings, and Writings; and Four Portraits. Two
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+
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+GAMBARD. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =5s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+Christ's Victorie on Earth, Christ's Triumph over Death, and Minor
+Poems. With Notes by Rev. A. B. GROSART, D.D. Crown 8vo, cloth boards,
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+
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+=FRANCILLON (R. E.), NOVELS BY.=
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+
+     =ONE BY ONE.=
+
+     =QUEEN COPHETUA.=
+
+     =A REAL QUEEN.=
+
+     =KING OR KNAVE?=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =OLYMPIA.= Post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.=
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+8vo, cloth boards, =7s. 6d.= each.
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+
+     =CIRCUS LIFE AND CIRCUS CELEBRITIES.=
+
+     =LIVES OF THE CONJURERS.=
+
+     =THE OLD SHOWMEN AND THE OLD LONDON FAIRS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=FRY'S (HERBERT) ROYAL GUIDE TO THE LONDON CHARITIES.= Showing their
+Name, Date of Foundation, Objects, Income, Officials, &c. Edited by JOHN
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+     GEORGE GLENNY.
+
+     =HOUSEHOLD HORTICULTURE.= By TOM and JANE JERROLD.
+     Illustrated.
+
+     =THE GARDEN THAT PAID THE RENT.= By TOM JERROLD.
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+1892 Annual, written by =T. W. Speight=, is entitled "=THE LOUDWATER
+TRAGEDY=."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GERMAN POPULAR STORIES.= Collected by the Brothers GRIMM and Translated
+by EDGAR TAYLOR. With Introduction by JOHN RUSKIN, and 22 Steel Plates
+after GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. Square 8vo, cloth, =6s. 6d.=; gilt edges, =7s.
+6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GIBBON (CHARLES), NOVELS BY.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =ROBIN GRAY.=
+
+     =LOVING A DREAM.=
+
+     =THE FLOWER OF THE FOREST.=
+
+     =THE GOLDEN SHAFT.=
+
+     =OF HIGH DEGREE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =THE DEAD HEART.=
+
+     =FOR LACK OF GOLD.=
+
+     =WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY?=
+
+     =FOR THE KING.=
+
+     =A HARD KNOT.=
+
+     =QUEEN OF THE MEADOW.=
+
+     =IN PASTURES GREEN.=
+
+     =IN LOVE AND WAR.=
+
+     =A HEART'S PROBLEM.=
+
+     =BY MEAD AND STREAM.=
+
+     =THE BRAES OF YARROW.=
+
+     =FANCY FREE.=
+
+     =IN HONOUR BOUND.=
+
+     =HEART'S DELIGHT.=
+
+     =BLOOD-MONEY.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GIBNEY (SOMERVILLE).--SENTENCED!= Cr. 8vo, =1s.=; cl., =1s. 6d.=
+
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+=GILBERT (WILLIAM), NOVELS BY.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards. =2s.=
+each.
+
+     =DR. AUSTIN'S GUESTS.=
+
+     =THE WIZARD OF THE MOUNTAIN.=
+
+     =JAMES DUKE, COSTERMONGER.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GILBERT (W. S.), ORIGINAL PLAYS BY.= Two Series, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
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+     by Jury.
+
+     The SECOND SERIES: Broken
+     Hearts--Engaged--Sweethearts--Gretchen--Dan'l Druce--Tom
+     Cobb--H.M.S. "Pinafore"--The Sorcerer--Pirates of Penzance.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =EIGHT ORIGINAL COMIC OPERAS= written by W. S. GILBERT.
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+     =THE "GILBERT AND SULLIVAN" BIRTHDAY BOOK:= Quotations for
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+     set to Music by Sir A. SULLIVAN. Compiled by ALEX. WATSON.
+     Royal 16mo, Jap. leather, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GLANVILLE (ERNEST), NOVELS BY.=
+
+     =THE LOST HEIRESS:= A Tale of Love, Battle and Adventure. With
+     2 Illusts. by HUME NISBET. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=;
+     post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
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+     =THE FOSSICKER:= A Romance of Mashonaland. With Frontispiece
+     and Vignette by HUME NISBET. Second Edition. Crown 8vo,
+     cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GLENNY.--A YEAR'S-WORK IN GARDEN AND GREENHOUSE:= Practical Advice to
+Amateur Gardeners as to the Management of the Flower, Fruit, and Frame
+Garden. By GEORGE GLENNY. Post 8vo, =1s.=; cloth limp, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GODWIN.--LIVES OF THE NECROMANCERS.= By WILLIAM GODWIN. Post 8vo, cloth
+limp, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=GOLDEN TREASURY OF THOUGHT, THE:= An Encyclopaedia of QUOTATIONS. Edited
+by THEODORE TAYLOR. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =7s. 6d.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+Curious." Crown 8vo, cloth, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GOWING.--FIVE THOUSAND MILES IN A SLEDGE:= A Midwinter Journey Across
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+Map by E. WELLER. Large crown 8vo, cloth extra, =8s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GRAHAM.--THE PROFESSOR'S WIFE:= A Story. By LEONARD GRAHAM. Fcap. 8vo,
+picture cover, =1s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GREEKS AND ROMANS, THE LIFE OF THE,= described from Antique Monuments.
+By ERNST GUHL and W. KONER. Edited by Dr. F. HUEFFER. With 545
+Illustrations. Large crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GREENWOOD (JAMES), WORKS BY.= Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =THE WILDS OF LONDON.=
+
+     =LOW-LIFE DEEPS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=GREVILLE (HENRY), NOVELS BY:=
+
+     =NIKANOR.= Translated by ELIZA E. CHASE. With 8 Illustrations.
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+     =2s.=
+
+     =A NOBLE WOMAN.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =5s.=; post 8vo,
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+"Victory 'Deane," &c. Crown, 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
+     =BRUETON'S BAYOU.=
+
+     =COUNTRY LUCK.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HAIR, THE:= Its Treatment in Health, Weakness, and Disease. Translated
+from the German of Dr. J. PINCUS. Crown 8vo, =1s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HAKE (DR. THOMAS GORDON), POEMS BY.= Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., =6s.= each.
+
+     =NEW SYMBOLS.=
+
+     =LEGENDS OF THE MORROW.=
+
+     =THE SERPENT PLAY.=
+
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+and GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. Medium 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
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+
+=HALLIDAY (ANDR.).--EVERY-DAY PAPERS.= Post 8vo, bds., =2s.=
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+=HANDWRITING, THE PHILOSOPHY OF.= With over 100 Facsimiles and
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+6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HANKY-PANKY:= A Collection of Very Easy Tricks, Very Difficult Tricks,
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+Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =4s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HARDY (LADY DUFFUS).--PAUL WYNTER'S SACRIFICE.= By Lady DUFFUS HARDY.
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HARDY (THOMAS).--UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.= By THOMAS HARDY, Author of
+"Far from the Madding Crowd." With Portrait and 15 Illustrations. Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HARPER.--THE BRIGHTON ROAD:= Old Times and New on a Classic Highway. By
+CHARLES G. HARPER. With a Photogravure Frontispiece and 90
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HARWOOD--THE TENTH EARL.= By J. BERWICK HARWOOD. Post 8vo, illustrated
+boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HAWEIS (MRS. H. R.), WORKS BY.= Square 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.= each.
+
+     =THE ART OF BEAUTY.= With Coloured Frontispiece and 91
+     Illustrations.
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+     =THE ART OF DECORATION.= With Coloured Frontispiece and 74
+     Illustrations.
+
+     =CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN.= With 8 Coloured Plates and 30
+     Woodcuts.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =THE ART OF DRESS.= With 32 Illustrations. Post 8vo, =1s.=:
+     cloth, =1s. 6d.=
+
+     =CHAUCER FOR SCHOOLS.= Demy 8vo; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HAWEIS (Rev. H. R., M.A.).--AMERICAN HUMORISTS:= WASHINGTON IRVING,
+OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL, ARTEMUS WARD, MARK TWAIN,
+and BRET HARTE. Third Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HAWLEY SMART.-WITHOUT LOVE OR LICENCE:= A Novel. By HAWLEY SMART. Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HAWTHORNE.--OUR OLD HOME;= By NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE; Annotated with
+Passages from the Author's Note-book, and Illustrated with 31
+Photogravures. Two Vols., crown 8vo, buckram, gilt top, =15s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HAWTHORNE (JULIAN), NOVELS BY.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =GARTH.=
+
+     =ELLICE QUENTIN.=
+
+     =SEBASTIAN STROME.=
+
+     =FORTUNE'S FOOL.=
+
+     =BEATRIX RANDOLPH.=
+
+     =DUST.=
+
+     =DAVID POINDEXTER.=
+
+     =THE SPECTRE OF THE CAMERA.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =MISS CADOGNA.= =LOVE--OR A NAME.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =MRS. GAINSBOROUGH'S DIAMONDS.= Fcap. 8vo, illustrated cover,
+     =1s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HEATH.--MY GARDEN WILD, AND WHAT I GREW THERE.= By FRANCIS GEORGE
+HEATH. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HELPS (SIR ARTHUR), WORKS BY.= Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =ANIMALS AND THEIR MASTERS.=
+
+     =SOCIAL PRESSURE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =IVAN DE BIRON:= A Novel. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, =3s. 6d.=; post
+     8vo, illust. bds., =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HENDERSON.--AGATHA PAGE:= A Novel. By ISAAC HENDERSON. Crown 8vo, cloth
+extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HERMAN.--A LEADING LADY.= By HENRY HERMAN, joint-Author of "The
+Bishops' Bible." Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=; cloth extra, =2s.
+6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HERRICK'S (ROBERT) HESPERIDES, NOBLE NUMBERS, AND COMPLETE COLLECTED
+POEMS.= With Memorial-Introduction and Notes by the Rev. A. B. GROSART,
+D.D.; Steel Portrait, &c. Three Vols., crown 8vo, cl. bds., =18s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HERTZKA.--FREELAND:= A Social Anticipation. By Dr. THEODOR HERTZKA.
+Translated by ARTHUR RANSOM. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HESSE-WARTEGG.--TUNIS:= The Land and the People. By Chevalier ERNST VON
+HESSE-WARTEGG. With 22 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HILL.--TREASON-FELONY:= A Novel. By JOHN HILL. Two Vols.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HINDLEY (CHARLES), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =TAVERN ANECDOTES AND SAYINGS:= Including Reminiscences
+     connected with Coffee Houses, Clubs, &c. With Illustrations.
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+
+     =THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF A CHEAP JACK.= By ONE OF THE
+     FRATERNITY. Edited by CHARLES HINDLEY. Crown 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOEY.--THE LOVER'S CREED.= By Mrs. CASHEL HOEY. Post 8vo, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOLLINGSHEAD (JOHN).--NIAGARA SPRAY.= Crown 8vo, =1s.=
+
+=HOLMES.--THE SCIENCE OF VOICE PRODUCTION AND VOICE PRESERVATION.= By
+GORDON HOLMES, M.D. Crown 8vo, =1s.=; cloth, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOLMES (OLIVER WENDELL), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE.= Illustrated by J.
+     GORDON THOMSON. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=--Another
+     Edition, in smaller type, with an Introduction by G. A.
+     SALA. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s.=
+
+     =THE PROFESSOR AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE.= Post 8vo, cloth limp,
+     =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOOD'S (THOMAS) CHOICE WORKS,= in Prose and Verse. With Life of the
+Author, Portrait, and 200 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s.
+6d.=
+
+     =HOOD'S WHIMS AND ODDITIES.= With 85 Illustrations. Post 8vo,
+     printed on laid paper and half-bound, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOOD (TOM).--FROM NOWHERE TO THE NORTH POLE:= A Noah's Arkaeological
+Narrative. By TOM HOOD. With 25 Illustrations by W. BRUNTON and E. C.
+BARNES. Square 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOOK'S (THEODORE) CHOICE HUMOROUS WORKS;= including his Ludicrous
+Adventures, Bons Mots, Puns, and Hoaxes. With Life of the Author,
+Portraits, Facsimiles, and Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s.
+6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOOPER. THE HOUSE OF RABY:= A Novel. By Mrs. GEORGE HOOPER. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HOPKINS.--"'TWIXT LOVE AND DUTY:"= A Novel. By TIGHE HOPKINS. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HORNE.--ORION:= An Epic Poem. By RICHARD HENGIST HORNE. With
+Photographic Portrait by SUMMERS. Tenth Edition. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra,
+=7s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=HORSE (THE) AND HIS RIDER:= An Anecdotic Medley. By "THORMANBY." Crown
+8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=HUNGERFORD (MRS.),= Author of "Molly Bawn," =NOVELS BY.=
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+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =A MAIDEN ALL FORLORN.=
+
+     =IN DURANCE VILE.=
+
+     =A MENTAL STRUGGLE.=
+
+     =MARVEL.=
+
+     =A MODERN CIRCE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HUNT.--ESSAYS BY LEIGH HUNT:= A TALE FOR A CHIMNEY CORNER, &c. Edited
+by EDMUND OLLIER. Post 8vo, printed on laid paper and half-bd. =2s.=
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+        *       *       *       *       *
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+=HUNT (MRS. ALFRED), NOVELS BY.=
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=HYDROPHOBIA:= An Account of M. PASTEUR's System; Technique of his
+Method, and Statistics. By RENAUD SUZOR, M.B. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
+=6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=IDLER (THE):= A Monthly Magazine. Edited by JEROME K. JEROME and ROBERT
+E. BARR. Profusely Illustrated. Sixpence Monthly.--Vol. I. now ready,
+cloth extra, price =5s.=; Cases for Binding, =1s. 6d.=
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+=IRISH WIT AND HUMOUR, SONGS OF.= Collected and Edited by A. PERCEVAL
+GRAVES. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+picture cover, =1s.=; cloth limp, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+
+     =THE DARK COLLEEN.=
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+     =THE QUEEN OF CONNAUGHT.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=JEFFERIES (RICHARD), WORKS BY.= Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =NATURE NEAR LONDON.=
+
+     =THE LIFE OF THE FIELDS.=
+
+     =THE OPEN AIR.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFERIES.= By WALTER BESANT. Second
+     Edition. With a Photograph Portrait. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
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+     8vo, cl., =6s.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+BERNARD PARTRIDGE. Square 8vo, picture cover, =1s.=; cloth limp, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =THE GARDEN THAT PAID THE RENT.=
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+     8vo, cl., =1s. 6d.=
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+=JONES (WILLIAM, F.S.A.) WORKS BY.= Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
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+     =FINGER-RING LORE:= Historical, Legendary, and Anecdotal. With
+     nearly 300 Illustrations. Second Edition, Revised and
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+
+     =CREDULITIES, PAST AND PRESENT.= Including the Sea and Seamen,
+     Miners, Talismans, Word and Letter Divination, Exorcising
+     and Blessing of Animals, Birds, Eggs, Luck, &c. With an
+     Etched Frontispiece.
+
+     =CROWNS AND CORONATIONS:= A History of Regalia. With 100
+     Illustrations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+Biographical Memoir by WILLIAM GIFFORD. Edited by Colonel CUNNINGHAM.
+Three Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.= each.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=JOSEPHUS, THE COMPLETE WORKS OF.= Translated by WHISTON. Containing
+"The Antiquities of the Jews" and "The Wars of the Jews." With 52
+Illustrations and Maps. Two Vols., demy 8vo, half-bound, =12s. 6d.=
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+KEMPT. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
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+=KERSHAW.--COLONIAL FACTS AND FICTIONS:= Humorous Sketches. By MARK
+KERSHAW. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=; cloth, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+picture cover, =1s.=; cloth limp, =1s. 6d.=
+
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+=KING (R. ASHE), NOVELS BY.= Cr. 8vo, cl., 3s. 6d. ea.; Post 8vo, bds.,
+=2s.= ea.
+
+     =A DRAWN GAME.=
+
+     ="THE WEARING OF THE GREEN."=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =PASSION'S SLAVE.=
+
+     =BELL BARRY.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+=KNIGHTS (THE) OF THE LION:= A Romance of the Thirteenth Century.
+Edited, with an Introduction, by the MARQUESS OF LORNE, K.T. Cr. 8vo,
+cl. ex., =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=KNIGHT.--THE PATIENT'S VADE MECUM:= How to Get Most Benefit from
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+Crown 8vo, =1s.=; cloth limp, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=LAMB'S (CHARLES) COMPLETE WORKS,= in Prose and Verse, including "Poetry
+for Children" and "Prince Dorus." Edited, with Notes and Introduction,
+by R. H. SHEPHERD. With Two Portraits and Facsimile of a page of the
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+     cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
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+     =THE DRAMATIC ESSAYS OF CHARLES LAMB.= With Introduction and
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+     8vo, hf.-bd., =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LANDOR.--CITATION AND EXAMINATION OF WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE,= &c., before
+Sir THOMAS LUCY, touching Deer-stealing, 19th September, 1582. To which
+Is added, =A CONFERENCE OF MASTER EDMUND SPENSER= with the Earl of
+Essex, touching the State of Ireland, 1595. By WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
+Fcap. 8vo, half-Roxburghe, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LANE.--THE THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS,= commonly called in England =THE
+ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS=. Translated from the Arabic, with Notes,
+by EDWARD WILLIAM LANE. Illustrated by many hundred Engravings from
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+
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =FORENSIC ANECDOTES.=
+
+     =THEATRICAL ANECDOTES.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LEIGH (HENRY S.), WORKS BY.=
+
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LEYS (JOHN).--THE LINDSAYS:= A Romance. Post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LIFE IN LONDON;= or, The History of JERRY HAWTHORN and CORINTHIAN TOM.
+With CRUIKSHANK's Coloured Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s.
+6d.= [_New Edition preparing._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LINTON (E. LYNN), WORKS BY.= Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =WITCH STORIES.=
+
+     =OURSELVES:= ESSAYS ON WOMEN.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =SOWING THE WIND.=
+
+     =PATRICIA KEMBALL.=
+
+     =ATONEMENT OF LEAM DUNDAS.=
+
+     =THE WORLD WELL LOST.=
+
+     =UNDER WHICH LORD?=
+
+     ="MY LOVE!"=
+
+     =IONE.=
+
+     =PASTON CAREW,= Millionaire & Miser.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =THE REBEL OF THE FAMILY.=
+
+     =WITH A SILKEN THREAD.=
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+     =FREESHOOTING:= Extracts from the Works of Mrs. LYNN LINTON.
+     Post 8vo, cloth, =2s. 6d.=
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+
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+extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LUSIAD (THE) OF CAMOENS.= Translated into English Spenserian Verse by
+ROBERT FFRENCH DUFF. With 14 Plates. Demy 8vo, cloth boards, =18s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =TERESA ITASCA,= and other Stories. Crown 8vo, bound in
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+     cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =EDNOR WHITLOCK,= Crown 8vo, cloth extra. =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=McCARTHY (JUSTIN, M.P.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES,= from the Accession of Queen
+     Victoria to the General Election of 1880. Four Vols, demy
+     8vo, cloth extra, =12s.= each.--Also a POPULAR EDITION, in
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+
+     =A SHORT HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES.= One Vol., crown 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =6s.=--Also a CHEAP POPULAR EDITION, post 8vo, cloth
+     limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+     =A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES.= Four Vols, demy 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =12s.= each. [Vols. I. & II. _ready_.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards.
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =THE WATERDALE NEIGHBOURS.=
+
+     =MY ENEMY'S DAUGHTER.=
+
+     =A FAIR SAXON.=
+
+     =LINLEY ROCHFORD.=
+
+     =DEAR LADY DISDAIN.=
+
+     =MISS MISANTHROPE.=
+
+     =DONNA QUIXOTE.=
+
+     =THE COMET OF A SEASON.=
+
+     =MAID OF ATHENS.=
+
+     =CAMIOLA:= A Girl with a Fortune.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     ="THE RIGHT HONOURABLE."= By JUSTIN MCCARTHY, M.P., and Mrs.
+     CAMPBELL-PRAED. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=McCARTHY (JUSTIN H., M.P.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.= Four Vols., 8vo, =12s.= each. [Vols. I.
+     & II. _ready_.]
+
+     =AN OUTLINE OF THE HISTORY OF IRELAND.= Crown 8vo, =1s.=; cloth,
+     =1s. 6d.=
+
+     =IRELAND SINCE THE UNION:= Irish History, 1798-1886. Crown
+     8vo, cloth, =6s.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =HAFIZ IN LONDON:= Poems. Small 8vo, gold cloth, =3s. 6d.=
+
+     =HARLEQUINADE:= Poems. Small 4to, Japanese vellum, =8s.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =OUR SENSATION NOVEL.= Crown 8vo, picture cover, =1s.=; cloth
+     limp, =1s. 6d.=
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+
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+     =1s. 6d.=
+
+     =LILY LASS:= A Romance. Crown 8vo, picture cover, =1s.=; cloth
+     limp, =1s. 6d.=
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+     =THE THOUSAND AND ONE DAYS:= Persian Tales. Edited by JUSTIN
+     H. MCCARTHY. With 2 Photogravures by STANLEY L. WOOD. Two
+     Vols., crown 8vo, half-bound, =12s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+     Vol. I. WITHIN AND WITHOUT.--THE HIDDEN LIFE.
+
+     Vol. II. THE DISCIPLE.--THE GOSPEL WOMEN.--BOOK OF
+     SONNETS.--ORGAN SONGS.
+
+     Vol. III. VIOLIN SONGS.--SONGS OF THE DAYS AND NIGHTS.--A
+     BOOK OF DREAMS.--ROADSIDE POEMS.--POEMS FOR CHILDREN.
+
+     Vol. IV. PARABLES.--BALLADS.--SCOTCH SONGS.
+
+     Vol. V. & VI. PHANTASTES: A Faerie Romance.
+
+     Vol. VII. THE PORTENT.
+
+     Vol. VIII. THE LIGHT PRINCESS.--THE GIANT'S HEART.--SHADOWS.
+
+     Vol. IX. CROSS PURPOSES.--THE GOLDEN KEY.--THE
+     CARASOYN.--LITTLE DAYLIGHT.
+
+     Vol. X. THE CRUEL PAINTER.--THE WOW O' RIVVEN.--THE
+     CASTLE.--THE BROKEN SWORDS.--THE GRAY WOLF.--UNCLE
+     CORNELIUS.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =THE POETICAL WORKS OF DR. GEORGE MACDONALD.= Collected and
+     arranged by the Author. 2 vols., crown 8vo, buckram, =12s.=
+     [_Shortly._]
+
+     =A THREEFOLD CORD.= Poems by Three Friends. Edited by Dr.
+     GEORGE MACDONALD. Post 8vo, cloth, =5s.=
+
+     =HEATHER AND SNOW:= A Novel. 2 vols., crown 8vo, [_Shortly._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+MACGREGOR. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
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+MACKAY, LL.D. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MACLISE PORTRAIT GALLERY (THE) OF ILLUSTRIOUS LITERARY CHARACTERS: 85
+PORTRAITS;= with Memoirs--Biographical, Critical, Bibliographical, and
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+Present Century, by WILLIAM BATES, B.A. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s.
+6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+=MACQUOID (MRS.), WORKS BY.= Square 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =IN THE ARDENNES.= With 50 Illustrations by THOMAS R.
+     MACQUOID.
+
+     =PICTURES AND LEGENDS FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY.= With 34
+     Illustrations by THOMAS R. MACQUOID.
+
+     =THROUGH NORMANDY.= With 92 Illustrations by T. R. MACQUOID,
+     and a Map.
+
+     =THROUGH BRITTANY.= With 35 Illustrations by T. R. MACQUOID,
+     and a Map.
+
+     =ABOUT YORKSHIRE=. With 67 Illustrations by T. R. MACQUOID.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =THE EVIL EYE,= and other Stories.
+
+     =LOST ROSE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MAGIC LANTERN, THE,= and its Management: including full Practical
+Directions for producing the Limelight, making Oxygen Gas, and preparing
+Lantern Slides. By T. C. HEPWORTH. With 10 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo,
+=1s.=; cloth, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MAGICIAN'S OWN BOOK, THE:= Performances with Cups and Balls, Eggs,
+Hats, Handkerchiefs, &c. All from actual Experience. Edited by W. H.
+CREMER. With 200 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =4s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
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+3 feet by 2 feet, with Arms and Seals emblazoned in Gold and Colours,
+=5s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MALLOCK (W. H.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =THE NEW REPUBLIC.= Post 8vo, picture cover, =2s.=; cloth limp,
+     =2s. 6d.=
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+     =THE NEW PAUL & VIRGINIA:= Positivism on an Island. Post 8vo,
+     cloth, =2s. 6d.=
+
+     =POEMS.= Small 4to, parchment, =8s.=
+
+     =IS LIFE WORTH LIVING?= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+     =A ROMANCE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.= Crown 8vo, cloth, =6s.=
+     [_Shortly._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MALLORY'S (SIR THOMAS) MORT D'ARTHUR:= The Stories of King Arthur and
+of the Knights of the Round Table. (A Selection.) Edited by B.
+MONTGOMERIE RANKING. Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=MARK TWAIN, WORKS BY.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =THE CHOICE WORKS OF MARK TWAIN.= Revised and Corrected
+     throughout by the Author. With Life, Portrait, and numerous
+     Illustrations.
+
+     =ROUGHING IT,= and =INNOCENTS AT HOME.= With 200 Illusts. by
+     F. A. FRASER.
+
+     =MARK TWAIN'S LIBRARY OF HUMOUR.= With 197 Illustrations.
+
+     =A YANKEE AT THE COURT OF KING ARTHUR.= With 220 Illusts. by
+     BEARD.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra (illustrated), =7s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illust.
+boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =THE INNOCENTS ABROAD;= or, New Pilgrim's Progress. With 234
+     Illustrations. (The Two-Shilling Edition is entitled =MARK
+     TWAIN'S PLEASURE TRIP=.)
+
+     =THE GILDED AGE.= By MARK TWAIN and C. D. WARNER. With 212
+     Illustrations.
+
+     =THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER.= With 111 Illustrations.
+
+     =A TRAMP ABROAD.= With 314 Illustrations.
+
+     =THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER.= With 190 Illustrations.
+
+     =LIFE ON THE MISSISSIPPI.= With 300 Illustrations.
+
+     =ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN.= With 174 Illusts. by E. W.
+     KEMBLE.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
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+
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+
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+
+     =A COUNTY FAMILY.=
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+     =A MARINE RESIDENCE.=
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+
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+Impediment." With a Frontispiece by HAL LUDLOW. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
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+6d.=
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+bds., =2s.= each.
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+     =IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND.= Illustrated by G. J. PINWELL.
+
+     =THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE NEVER DID RUN SMOOTH.= Illustrated by
+     HELEN PATERSON.
+
+     =THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A THIEF,= &c. Illustrated by MATT
+     STRETCH.
+
+     =LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG.= Illustrated by M. ELLEN
+     EDWARDS.
+
+     =THE DOUBLE MARRIAGE.= Illusts. by Sir JOHN GILBERT, R.A., and
+     C. KEENE.
+
+     =THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH.= Illustrated by CHARLES KEENE.
+
+     =HARD CASH.= Illustrated by F. W. LAWSON.
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+     WILLIAM SMALL.
+
+     =FOUL PLAY.= Illustrated by GEORGE DU MAURIER.
+
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+
+     =A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION.= Illustrated by EDWARD HUGHES and
+     A. W. COOPER.
+
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+
+     =THE WANDERING HEIR.= Illustrated by HELEN PATERSON, S. L.
+     FILDES, R.A., C. GREEN, and HENRY WOODS, A.R.A.
+
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+
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+
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+     ABBEY, PERCY MACQUOID, R.W.S., and JOSEPH NASH.
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+
+     =A PERILOUS SECRET.= Illustrated by FRED. BARNARD.
+
+     =READIANA.= With a Steel-plate Portrait of CHARLES READE.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
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+            *       *       *       *       *
+
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+     Introduction by Mrs. ALEX. IRELAND, and a Steel-Plate
+     Portrait. Crown 8vo, buckram, =6s.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+=RIDDELL (MRS. J. H.), NOVELS BY.=
+
+     Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each: post 8vo, illustrated
+     boards, =2s.= each.
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+     =THE PRINCE OF WALES'S GARDEN PARTY.=
+
+     =WEIRD STORIES.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =THE UNINHABITED HOUSE.=
+
+     =MYSTERY IN PALACE GARDENS.=
+
+     =FAIRY WATER.=
+
+     =HER MOTHER'S DARLING.=
+
+     =THE NUN'S CURSE.=
+
+     =IDLE TALES.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=RIMMER (ALFRED), WORKS BY.= Square 8vo, cloth gilt, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =OUR OLD COUNTRY TOWNS.= With 55 Illustrations.
+
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+
+       *       *       *       *       *
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+     =HOW THE POOR LIVE;= and =HORRIBLE LONDON.=
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+     by GEORGE R. SIMS.
+
+     =DAGONET DITTIES.= From the _Referee_.
+
+     =THE CASE OF GEORGE CANDLEMAS.=
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+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=THOMAS (BERTHA) NOVELS BY.= Cr. 8vo, cl., =3s. 6d.= ea.; post 8vo,
+=2s.= ea.
+
+     =THE VIOLIN-PLAYER.=
+
+     =PROUD MAISIE.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =CRESSIDA.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=THOMSON'S SEASONS,= and =CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.= With Introduction by
+ALLAN CUNNINGHAM, and 48 Illustrations. Post 8vo, half-bound, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=THORNBURY (WALTER), WORKS BY.= Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF J. M. W. TURNER.= Founded upon
+     Letters and Papers furnished by his Friends. With
+     Illustrations in Colours.
+
+     =HAUNTED LONDON.= Edit. by E. WALFORD, M.A. Illusts. by =F. W.
+     Fairholt=, F.S.A.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =OLD STORIES RE-TOLD.=
+
+     =TALES FOR THE MARINES.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TIMBS (JOHN), WORKS BY.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =THE HISTORY OF CLUBS AND CLUB LIFE IN LONDON:= Anecdotes of
+     its Famous Coffee-houses, Hostelries, and Taverns. With 42
+     Illustrations.
+
+     =ENGLISH ECCENTRICS AND ECCENTRICITIES:= Stories of Delusions,
+     Impostures, Sporting Scenes, Eccentric Artists, Theatrical
+     Folk, &c. 48 Illustrations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TROLLOPE (ANTHONY), NOVELS BY.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =THE WAY WE LIVE NOW.=
+
+     =KEPT IN THE DARK.=
+
+     =FRAU FROHMANN.=
+
+     =MARION FAY.=
+
+     =MR. SCARBOROUGH'S FAMILY.=
+
+     =THE LAND-LEAGUERS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE.=
+
+     =JOHN CALDIGATE.=
+
+     =AMERICAN SENATOR.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TROLLOPE (FRANCES E.), NOVELS BY.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =LIKE SHIPS UPON THE SEA.=
+
+     =MABELS PROGRESS.=
+
+     =ANNE FURNESS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TROLLOPE (T. A.).--DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.= Post 8vo, illust. bds., =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TROWBRIDGE.--FARNELL'S FOLLY:= A Novel. By J. T. TROWBRIDGE. Post 8vo,
+illustrated boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TYTLER (C. C. FRASER-).--MISTRESS JUDITH:= A Novel. By C. C.
+FRASER-TYTLER. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo, illust.
+boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=TYTLER (SARAH), NOVELS BY.=
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each; post 8vo, illustrated boards,
+=2s.= each.
+
+     =THE BRIDE'S PASS.=
+
+     =NOBLESSE OBLIGE.=
+
+     =LADY BELL.=
+
+     =BURIED DIAMONDS.=
+
+     =THE BLACKHALL GHOSTS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =WHAT SHE CAME THROUGH.=
+
+     =CITOYENNE JACQUELINE.=
+
+     =SAINT MUNGO'S CITY.=
+
+     =BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.=
+
+     =DISAPPEARED.=
+
+     =THE HUGUENOT FAMILY.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=VILLARI.--A DOUBLE BOND.= By LINDA VILLARI. Fcap. 8vo, picture cover,
+=1s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WALT WHITMAN, POEMS BY.= Edited, with Introduction, by =William M.
+Rossetti=. With Portrait. Cr. 8vo, hand-made paper and buckram, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WALTON AND COTTON'S COMPLETE ANGLER;= or, The Contemplative Man's
+Recreation, by IZAAK WALTON; and Instructions how to Angle for a Trout
+or Grayling in a clear Stream, by CHARLES COTTON. With Memoirs and Notes
+by SIR HARRIS NICOLAS, and 61 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth antique,
+=7s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WARD (HERBERT), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =FIVE YEARS WITH THE CONGO CANNIBALS.= With 92 Illustrations
+     by the Author, VICTOR PERARD, and W. B. DAVIS. Third ed.
+     Roy. 8vo, cloth ex., =14s.=
+
+     =MY LIFE WITH STANLEY'S REAR GUARD.= With a Map by F. S.
+     WELLER, F.R.G.S. Post 8vo, =1s.=; cloth, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WARNER.--A ROUNDABOUT JOURNEY.= By CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER. Crown 8vo,
+cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WARRANT TO EXECUTE CHARLES I.= A Facsimile, with the 59 Signatures and
+Seals. Printed on paper 22 in. by 14 in. =2s.=
+
+     =WARRANT TO EXECUTE MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS.= A Facsimile,
+     including Queen Elizabeth's Signature and the Great Seal.
+     =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WASSERMANN--THE DAFFODILS:= A Novel. By LILLIAS WASSERMANN. Crown 8vo,
+=1s.=; cloth, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WATSON.--THE MARQUIS OF CARABAS:= A Novel. By AARON WATSON and LILIAS
+WASSERMANN. 3 vols., crown 8vo.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WALFORD (EDWARD, M.A.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =WALFORD'S COUNTY FAMILIES OF THE UNITED KINGDOM (1892).=
+     Containing the Descent, Birth, Marriage, Education, &c., of
+     12,000 Heads of Families, their Heirs, Offices, Addresses,
+     Clubs, &c. Royal 8vo, cloth gilt, =50s.=
+
+     =WALFORD'S WINDSOR PEERAGE, BARONETAGE, AND KNIGHTAGE (1892).=
+     Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =12s. 6d.=
+
+     =WALFORD'S SHILLING PEERAGE (1892).= Containing a List of the
+     House of Lords, Scotch and Irish Peers, &c. 32mo, cloth. =1s.=
+
+     =WALFORD'S SHILLING BARONETAGE (1892).= Containing a List of
+     the Baronets of the United Kingdom, Biographical Notices,
+     Addresses, &c. 32mo, cloth, =1s.=
+
+     =WALFORD'S SHILLING KNIGHTAGE (1892).= Containing a List of
+     the Knights of the United Kingdom, Biographical Notices,
+     Addresses, &c. 32mo, cloth, =1s.=
+
+     =WALFORD'S SHILLING HOUSE OF COMMONS (1892).= Containing a
+     List of all Members of the New Parliament, their Addresses,
+     Clubs, &c. 32mo, cloth, =1s.=
+
+     =WALFORD'S COMPLETE PEERAGE, BARONETAGE, KNIGHTAGE, AND HOUSE
+     OF COMMONS (1892).= Royal 32mo, cloth extra, gilt edges, =5s.=
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =TALES OF OUR GREAT FAMILIES.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WEATHER, HOW TO FORETELL THE, WITH POCKET SPECTROSCOPE.= By F. W.
+CORY.--With 10 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, =1s.=; cloth, =1s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WESTALL (William).--TRUST-MONEY.= Three Vols., crown 8vo.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WESTROPP.--HANDBOOK OF POTTERY AND PORCELAIN.= By HODDER M. WESTROPP.
+With Illusts. and List of Marks. Cr. 8vo, cloth, =4s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WHIST.-HOW TO PLAY SOLO WHIST.= By ABRAHAM S. WILKS and CHARLES F.
+PARDON. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WHISTLER'S (MR.) TEN O'CLOCK.= Cr. 8vo, hand-made paper, =1s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WHITE.--THE NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE.= By GILBERT WHITE, M.A. Post
+8vo, printed on laid paper and half-bound, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WILLIAMS (W. MATTIEU, F.R.A.S.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =SCIENCE IN SHORT CHAPTERS.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+     =A SIMPLE TREATISE ON HEAT.= With Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cloth
+     limp, =2s. 6d.=
+
+     =THE CHEMISTRY OF COOKERY.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =6s.=
+
+     =THE CHEMISTRY OF IRON AND STEEL MAKING.= Crown 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =9s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WILLIAMSON (MRS. F. H.).--A CHILD WIDOW.= Post 8vo, bds., =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WILSON (DR. ANDREW, F.R.S.E.), WORKS BY.=
+
+     =CHAPTERS ON EVOLUTION.= With 259 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo,
+     cloth extra, =7s. 6d.=
+
+     =LEAVES FROM A NATURALIST'S NOTE-BOOK.= Post 8vo, cloth limp,
+     =2s. 6d.=
+
+     =LEISURE-TIME STUDIES.= With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =6s.=
+
+     =STUDIES IN LIFE AND SENSE.= With numerous Illusts. Cr. 8vo,
+     cl. ex., =6s.=
+
+     =COMMON ACCIDENTS: HOW TO TREAT THEM.= Illusts. Cr. 8vo, =1s.=;
+     cl., =1s. 6d.=
+
+     =GLIMPSES OF NATURE.= With 35 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth
+     extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WINTER (J. S.), STORIES BY.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =CAVALRY LIFE.=
+
+     =REGIMENTAL LEGENDS.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     =A SOLDIER'S CHILDREN.= With 34 Illustrations by E. G. THOMSON
+     and E. STUART HARDY. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WISSMANN.--MY SECOND JOURNEY THROUGH EQUATORIAL AFRICA.= By HERMANN VON
+WISSMANN. With 92 Illusts. Demy 8vo, =16s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WOOD.--SABINA:= A Novel. By Lady WOOD. Post 8vo, boards, =2s.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WOOD (H. F.), DETECTIVE STORIES BY.= Cr. 8vo, =6s.= ea.; post 8vo, bds
+=2s.=
+
+     =PASSENGER FROM SCOTLAND YARD.=
+
+     =ENGLISHMAN OF THE RUE CAIN.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WOOLLEY.--RACHEL ARMSTRONG;= or, Love and Theology. By CELIA PARKER
+WOOLLEY. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.=; cloth, =2s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WRIGHT (THOMAS), WORKS BY.= Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =7s. 6d.= each.
+
+     =CARICATURE HISTORY OF THE GEORGES.= With 400 Caricatures,
+     Squibs, &c.
+
+     =HISTORY OF CARICATURE AND OF THE GROTESQUE IN ART,
+     LITERATURE, SCULPTURE, AND PAINTING.= Illustrated by F. W.
+     FAIRHOLT, F.S.A.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=WYNMAN.--MY FLIRTATIONS.= By MARGARET WYNMAN. With 13 Illustrations by
+J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=YATES (EDMUND), NOVELS BY.= Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+     =LAND AT LAST.=
+
+     =THE FORLORN HOPE.=
+
+     =CASTAWAY.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ZOLA.--THE DOWNFALL.= By EMILE ZOLA. Translated by E. A. VIZETELLY.
+Crown 8vo, cloth, =3s. 6d.=
+
+
+
+
+LISTS OF BOOKS CLASSIFIED IN SERIES.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_For fuller cataloguing, see alphabetical arrangement._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE MAYFAIR LIBRARY.
+
+Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= per Volume.
+
+  =A Journey Round My Room.= By XAVIER DE MAISTRE.
+  =Quips and Quiddities.= By W. D. ADAMS.
+  =The Agony Column of "The Times."=
+  =Melancholy Anatomised:= Abridgment of "Burton's Anatomy of
+      Melancholy."
+  =The Speeches of Charles Dickens.=
+  =Literary Frivolities, Fancies, Follies, and Frolics.= By W. T.
+      DOBSON.
+  =Poetical Ingenuities.= By W. T. DOBSON.
+  =The Cupboard Papers.= By FIN-BEC.
+  =W. S. Gilbert's Plays.= FIRST SERIES.
+  =W. S. Gilbert's Plays.= SECOND SERIES.
+  =Songs of Irish Wit and Humour.=
+  =Animals and Masters.= By Sir A. HELPS.
+  =Social Pressure.= By Sir A. HELPS.
+  =Curiosities of Criticism.= H. J. JENNINGS.
+  =Holmes's Autocrat of Breakfast-Table.=
+  =Pencil and Palette.= By R. KEMPT.
+  =Little Essays:= from LAMB's Letters.
+  =Forensic Anecdotes.= By JACOB LARWOOD.
+  =Theatrical Anecdotes.= JACOB LARWOOD.
+  =Jeux d'Esprit.= Edited by HENRY S. LEIGH.
+  =Witch Stories.= By E. LYNN LINTON.
+  =Ourselves.= By E. LYNN LINTON.
+  =Pastimes & Players.= By R. MACGREGOR.
+  =New Paul and Virginia.= W. H. MALLOCK.
+  =New Republic.= By W. H. MALLOCK.
+  =Puck on Pegasus.= By H. C. PENNELL.
+  =Pegasus Re-Saddled.= By H. C. PENNELL.
+  =Muses of Mayfair.= Ed. H. C. PENNELL.
+  =Thoreau:= His Life & Aims. By H. A. PAGE.
+  =Puniana.= By Hon. HUGH ROWLEY.
+  =More Puniana.= By Hon. HUGH ROWLEY.
+  =The Philosophy of Handwriting.=
+  =By Stream and Sea.= By WM. SENIOR.
+  =Leaves from a Naturalist's Note-Book.= By Dr. ANDREW WILSON.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE GOLDEN LIBRARY.
+
+Post 8vo, cloth limp, =2s.= per Volume.
+
+  =Bayard Taylor's Diversions of the Echo Club.=
+  =Bennett's Ballad History of England.=
+  =Bennett's Songs for Sailors.=
+  =Godwin's Lives of the Necromancers.=
+  =Pope's Poetical Works.=
+  =Holmes's Autocrat of Breakfast Table.=
+  =Holmes's Professor at Breakfast Table.=
+  =Jesse's Scenes of Country Life.=
+  =Leigh Hunt's Tale for a Chimney Corner.=
+  =Mallory's Mort d'Arthur:= Selections.
+  =Pascal's Provincial Letters.=
+  =Rochefoucauld's Maxims & Reflections.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE WANDERER'S LIBRARY.
+
+Crown 8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each.
+
+  =Wanderings In Patagonia.= By JULIUS BEERBOHM. Illustrated.
+  =Camp Notes.= By FREDERICK BOYLE.
+  =Savage Life.= By FREDERICK BOYLE.
+  =Merrie England in the Olden Time.= By G. DANIEL. Illustrated
+      by CRUIKSHANK.
+  =Circus Life.= By THOMAS FROST.
+  =Lives of the Conjurers.= THOMAS FROST.
+  =The Old Showmen and the Old London Fairs.= By THOMAS FROST.
+  =Low-Life Deeps.= By JAMES GREENWOOD.
+  =Wilds of London.= JAMES GREENWOOD.
+  =Tunis.= Chev. HESSE-WARTEGG. 22 Illusts.
+  =Life and Adventures of a Cheap Jack.=
+  =World Behind the Scenes.= P. FITZGERALD.
+  =Tavern Anecdotes and Sayings.=
+  =The Genial Showman.= By E. P. HINGSTON.
+  =Story of London Parks.= JACOB LARWOOD.
+  =London Characters.= By HENRY MAYHEW.
+  =Seven Generations of Executioners.=
+  =Summer Cruising in the South Seas.= By C. WARREN STODDARD.
+      Illustrated.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+POPULAR SHILLING BOOKS.
+
+  =Harry Fludyer at Cambridge.=
+  =Jeff Briggs's Love Story.= BRET HARTE.
+  =Twins of Table Mountain.= BRET HARTE.
+  =Snow-bound at Eagle's.= By BRET HARTE.
+  =A Day's Tour.= By PERCY FITZGERALD.
+  =Esther's Glove.= By R. E. FRANCILLON.
+  =Sentenced!= By SOMERVILLE GIBNEY.
+  =The Professor's Wife.= By L. GRAHAM.
+  =Mrs. Gainsborough's Diamonds.= By JULIAN HAWTHORNE.
+  =Niagara Spray.= By J. HOLLINGSHEAD.
+  =A Romance of the Queen's Hounds.= By CHARLES JAMES.
+  =The Garden that Paid the Rent.= By TOM JERROLD.
+  =Cut by the Mess.= By ARTHUR KEYSER.
+  =Our Sensation Novel.= J. H. MCCARTHY.
+  =Doom!= By JUSTIN H. MCCARTHY, M.P.
+  =Dolly.= By JUSTIN H. MCCARTHY, M.P.
+  =Lily Lass.= JUSTIN H. MCCARTHY, M.P.
+  =Was She Good or Bad?= By W. MINTO.
+  =Notes from the "News."= By JAS. PAYN.
+  =Beyond the Gates.= By E. S. PHELPS.
+  =Old Maid's Paradise.= By E. S. PHELPS.
+  =Burglars In Paradise.= By E. S. PHELPS.
+  =Jack the Fisherman.= By E. S. PHELPS.
+  =Trooping with Crows.= By C. L. PIRKIS.
+  =Bible Characters.= By CHARLES READE.
+  =Rogues.= By R. H. SHERARD.
+  =The Dagonet Reciter.= By G. R. SIMS.
+  =How the Poor Live.= By G. R. SIMS.
+  =Case of George Candlemas.= G. R. SIMS.
+  =Sandycroft Mystery.= T. W. SPEIGHT.
+  =Hoodwinked.= By T. W. SPEIGHT.
+  =Father Damien.= By R. L. STEVENSON.
+  =A Double Bond.= By LINDA VILLARI.
+  =My Life with Stanley's Rear Guard.= By HERBERT WARD.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HANDY NOVELS.
+
+Fcap. 8vo, cloth boards, =1s. 6d.= each.
+
+  =The Old Maid's Sweetheart.= A. ST. AUBYN.
+  =Modest Little Sara.= ALAN ST. AUBYN.
+  =Taken from the Enemy.= H. NEWBOLT.
+  =A Lost Soul.= By W. L. ALDEN.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MY LIBRARY.
+
+Choice Works, printed on laid paper, bound half-Roxburghe, =2s. 6d.=
+each.
+
+  =Four Frenchwomen.= By AUSTIN DOBSON.
+  =Citation and Examination of William Shakspeare.= By W. S. LANDOR.
+  =The Journal of Maurice de Guerin.=
+  =Christie Johnstone.= By CHARLES READE. With a Photogravure
+      Frontispiece.
+  =Peg Woffington.= By CHARLES READE.
+  =The Dramatic Essays of Charles Lamb.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE POCKET LIBRARY.
+
+Post 8vo, printed on laid paper and hf.-bd., =2s.= each.
+
+  =The Essays of Elia.= By CHARLES LAMB.
+  =Robinson Crusoe.= Edited by JOHN MAJOR. With 37 Illusts. by GEORGE
+      CRUIKSHANK.
+  =Whims and Oddities.= By THOMAS HOOD. With 85 Illustrations.
+  =The Barber's Chair,= and =The Hedgehog Letters=. By DOUGLAS JERROLD.
+  =Gastronomy as a Fine Art.= By BRILLAT-SAVARIN. Trans. R. E. ANDERSON,
+      M.A.
+  =The Epicurean,= &c. By THOMAS MOORE.
+  =Leigh Hunt's Essays.= Ed. E. OLLIER.
+  =White's Natural History of Selborne.=
+  =Gulliver's Travels,= and =The Tale of a Tub.= By DEAN SWIFT.
+  =The Rivals, School for Scandal,= and other Plays by RICHARD BRINSLEY
+      SHERIDAN.
+  =Anecdotes of the Clergy.= J. LARWOOD.
+  =Thomson's Seasons.= Illustrated.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PICCADILLY NOVELS.
+
+LIBRARY EDITIONS OF NOVELS BY THE BEST AUTHORS, many Illustrated, crown
+8vo, cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= each.
+
+By F. M. ALLEN.
+
+  The Green Bird.
+
+By GRANT ALLEN.
+
+  Philistia.
+  Babylon.
+  Strange Stories.
+  Beckoning Hand.
+  In all Shades.
+  Dumaresq's Daughter.
+  The Duchess of Powysland.
+  The Tents of Shem.
+  For Maimie's Sake.
+  The Devil's Die.
+  This Mortal Coil.
+  The Great Taboo.
+  Blood Royal.
+
+By EDWIN L. ARNOLD.
+
+  Phra the Phoenician.
+
+By ALAN ST. AUBYN.
+
+  A Fellow of Trinity.
+
+By Rev. S. BARING GOULD.
+
+  Red Spider.
+  Eve.
+
+By W. BESANT & J. RICE.
+
+  My Little Girl.
+  Case of Mr. Lucraft.
+  This Son of Vulcan.
+  Golden Butterfly.
+  By Celia's Arbour.
+  Monks of Thelema.
+  The Seamy Side.
+  Ten Years' Tenant.
+  Ready-Money Mortiboy.
+  With Harp and Crown.
+  'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay.
+  The Chaplain of the Fleet.
+
+By WALTER BESANT.
+
+  All Sorts and Conditions of Men.
+  The Captains' Room.
+  Herr Paulus.
+  All in a Garden Fair
+  The World Went Very Well Then.
+  For Faith and Freedom.
+  Dorothy Forster.
+  Uncle Jack.
+  Children of Gibeon.
+  Bell of St. Paul's.
+  To Call Her Mine.
+  The Holy Rose.
+  Armorel of Lyonesse.
+  St. Katherine's by the Tower.
+
+By ROBERT BUCHANAN.
+
+  The Shadow of the Sword.
+  A Child of Nature.
+  Matt.
+  Heir of Linne.
+  The Martyrdom of Madeline.
+  God and the Man.
+  Love Me for Ever.
+  Annan Water.
+  The New Abelard.
+  Foxglove Manor.
+  Master of the Mine.
+
+By HALL CAINE.
+
+  The Shadow of a Crime.
+  A Son of Hagar.
+  The Deemster.
+
+MORT. & FRANCES COLLINS.
+
+  Transmigration.
+  From Midnight to Midnight.
+  Blacksmith and Scholar.
+  Village Comedy.
+  You Play Me False.
+
+By WILKIE COLLINS.
+
+  Armadale.
+  After Dark.
+  No Name.
+  Antonina.
+  Basil.
+  Hide and Seek.
+  The Dead Secret.
+  Queen of Hearts.
+  My Miscellanies.
+  Woman in White.
+  The Moonstone.
+  Man and Wife.
+  Poor Miss Finch.
+  Miss or Mrs?
+  New Magdalen.
+  The Frozen Deep.
+  The Two Destinies.
+  Law and the Lady.
+  Haunted Hotel.
+  The Fallen Leaves.
+  Jezebel's Daughter.
+  The Black Robe.
+  Heart and Science.
+  "I Say No."
+  Little Novels.
+  The Evil Genius.
+  The Legacy of Cain.
+  A Rogue's Life.
+  Blind Love.
+
+By DUTTON COOK.
+
+  Paul Foster's Daughter.
+
+By MATT CRIM.
+
+  Adventures of a Fair Rebel.
+
+By WILLIAM CYPLES.
+
+  Hearts of Gold.
+
+By ALPHONSE DAUDET.
+
+  The Evangelist; or, Port Salvation.
+
+By ERASMUS DAWSON.
+
+  The Fountain of Youth.
+
+By JAMES DE MILLE.
+
+  A Castle in Spain.
+
+By J. LEITH DERWENT.
+
+  Our Lady of Tears.
+  Circe's Lovers.
+
+By DICK DONOVAN.
+
+  Tracked to Doom.
+
+By Mrs. ANNIE EDWARDES.
+
+  Archie Lovell.
+
+By G. MANVILLE FENN.
+
+  The New Mistress.
+
+By PERCY FITZGERALD.
+
+  Fatal Zero.
+
+By R. E. FRANCILLON.
+
+  Queen Cophetua.
+  One by One.
+  A Real Queen.
+  King or Knave.
+
+Pref. by Sir BARTLE FRERE.
+
+  Pandurang Hari.
+
+By EDWARD GARRETT.
+
+  The Capel Girls.
+
+By CHARLES GIBBON.
+
+  Robin Gray.
+  Loving a Dream.
+  The Golden Shaft.
+  Of High Degree.
+  The Flower of the Forest.
+
+By E. GLANVILLE.
+
+  The Lost Heiress.
+  The Fossicker.
+
+By CECIL GRIFFITH.
+
+  Corinthia Marazion.
+
+By THOMAS HARDY.
+
+  Under the Greenwood Tree.
+
+By BRET HARTE.
+
+  A Waif of the Plains.
+  A Ward of the Golden Gate.
+  A Sappho of Green Springs.
+  Colonel Starbottle's Client.
+
+By JULIAN HAWTHORNE.
+
+  Garth.
+  Ellice Quentin.
+  Sebastian Strome.
+  Dust.
+  Fortune's Fool.
+  Beatrix Randolph.
+  David Poindexter's Disappearance.
+  The Spectre of the Camera.
+
+By Sir A. HELPS.
+
+  Ivan de Biron.
+
+By ISAAC HENDERSON.
+
+  Agatha Page.
+
+By Mrs. ALFRED HUNT.
+
+  The Leaden Casket.
+  Self-Condemned.
+  That other Person.
+
+By JEAN INGELOW.
+
+  Fated to be Free.
+
+By R. ASHE KING.
+
+  A Drawn Game.
+  "The Wearing of the Green."
+
+By E. LYNN LINTON.
+
+  Patricia Kemball.
+  Under which Lord?
+  "My Love!"
+  Ione.
+  Paston Carew.
+  Sowing the Wind.
+  The Atonement of Leam Dundas.
+  The World Well Lost.
+
+By HENRY W. LUCY.
+
+  Gideon Fleyce.
+
+By Justin McCarthy.
+
+  A Fair Saxon.
+  Linley Rochford.
+  Miss Misanthrope.
+  Donna Quixote.
+  Maid of Athens.
+  Camiola.
+  The Waterdale Neighbours.
+  My Enemy's Daughter.
+  Dear Lady Disdain.
+  The Comet of a Season.
+
+By AGNES MACDONELL.
+
+  Quaker Cousins.
+
+By D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.
+
+  Life's Atonement.
+  Joseph's Coat.
+  Coals of Fire.
+  Val Strange.
+  Hearts.
+  A Model Father.
+  Old Blazer's Hero.
+  By the Gate of the Sea.
+  A Bit of Human Nature.
+  First Person Singular.
+  Cynic Fortune.
+  The Way of the World.
+
+By MURRAY & HERMAN.
+
+  The Bishops' Bible.
+  Paul Jones's Alias.
+
+By HUME NISBET.
+
+  "Bail Up!"
+
+By GEORGES OHNET.
+
+  A Weird Gift.
+
+By Mrs. OLIPHANT.
+
+  Whiteladies.
+
+By OUIDA.
+
+  Held In Bondage.
+  Strathmore.
+  Chandos.
+  Under Two Flags.
+  Idalia.
+  Cecil Castlemaine's Gage.
+  Tricotrin.
+  Puck.
+  Folle Farine.
+  A Dog of Flanders.
+  Pascarel.
+  Signa.
+  Princess Napraxine.
+  Two Little Wooden Shoes.
+  In a Winter City.
+  Ariadne.
+  Friendship.
+  Moths.
+  Ruffino.
+  Pipistrello.
+  A Village Commune.
+  Bimbi.
+  Wanda.
+  Frescoes.
+  Othmar.
+  In Maremma.
+  Syrlin.
+  Guilderoy.
+  Santa Barbara.
+
+By MARGARET A. PAUL.
+
+  Gentle and Simple.
+
+By JAMES PAYN.
+
+  Lost Sir Massingberd.
+  Less Black than We're Painted.
+  A Confidential Agent.
+  A Grape from a Thorn.
+  In Peril and Privation.
+  The Mystery of Mirbridge.
+  The Canon's Ward.
+  Walter's Word.
+  By Proxy.
+  High Spirits.
+  Under One Roof.
+  From Exile.
+  Glow-worm Tales.
+  Talk of the Town.
+  Holiday Tasks.
+  The Burnt Million.
+  The Word and the Will.
+  Sunny Stories.
+
+By E. C. PRICE.
+
+  Valentina.
+  The Foreigners.
+  Mrs. Lancaster's Rival.
+
+By RICHARD PRYCE.
+
+  Miss Maxwell's Affections.
+
+By CHARLES READE.
+
+  It Is Never Too Late to Mend.
+  The Double Marriage.
+  Love Me Little, Love Me Long.
+  The Cloister and the Hearth.
+  The Course of True Love.
+  The Autobiography of a Thief.
+  Put Yourself in his Place.
+  A Terrible Temptation.
+  Singleheart and Doubleface.
+  Good Stories of Men and other Animals.
+  Hard Cash.
+  Peg Woffington.
+  Christie Johnstone.
+  Griffith Gaunt.
+  Foul Play.
+  A Perilous Secret.
+  Wandering Heir.
+  A Woman-Hater.
+  A Simpleton.
+  Readiana.
+  The Jilt.
+
+By Mrs. J. H. RIDDELL.
+
+  The Prince of Wales's Garden Party.
+  Weird Stories.
+
+By F. W. ROBINSON.
+
+  Women are Strange.
+  The Hands of Justice.
+
+By W. CLARK RUSSELL.
+
+  An Ocean Tragedy.
+  My Shipmate Louise.
+  Alone on a Wide Wide Sea.
+
+By JOHN SAUNDERS.
+
+  Guy Waterman.
+  Two Dreamers.
+  Bound to the Wheel.
+  The Lion in the Path.
+
+By KATHARINE SAUNDERS.
+
+  Margaret and Elizabeth.
+  Gideon's Rock.
+  The High Mills.
+  Heart Salvage.
+  Sebastian.
+
+By LUKE SHARP.
+
+  In a Steamer Chair.
+
+By HAWLEY SMART.
+
+  Without Love or Licence.
+
+By R. A. STERNDALE.
+
+  The Afghan Knife.
+
+By BERTHA THOMAS.
+
+  Proud Maisie.
+  The Violin-player.
+
+By FRANCES E. TROLLOPE.
+
+  Like Ships upon the Sea.
+  Anne Furness.
+  Mabel's Progress.
+
+By IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c.
+
+  Stories from Foreign Novelists.
+
+By ANTHONY TROLLOPE.
+
+  Frau Frohmann.
+  Marion Fay.
+  Kept in the Dark.
+  Land-Leaguers.
+  The Way We Live Now.
+  Mr. Scarborough's Family.
+
+By C. C. FRASER-TYTLER.
+
+  Mistress Judith.
+
+By SARAH TYTLER.
+
+  The Bride's Pass.
+  Noblesse Oblige.
+  Lady Bell.
+  Buried Diamonds.
+  The Blackhall Ghosts.
+
+By MARK TWAIN.
+
+  The American Claimant.
+
+By. J. S. WINTER.
+
+  A Soldier's Children.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CHEAP EDITIONS OF POPULAR NOVELS.
+
+Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= each.
+
+By ARTEMUS WARD.
+
+  Artemus Ward Complete.
+
+By EDMOND ABOUT.
+
+  The Fellah.
+
+By HAMILTON AIDE.
+
+  Carr of Carrlyon.
+  Confidences.
+
+By MARY ALBERT.
+
+  Brooke Finchley's Daughter.
+
+By Mrs. ALEXANDER.
+
+  Maid, Wife, or Widow?
+  Valerie's Fate.
+
+By GRANT ALLEN.
+
+  Strange Stories.
+  Philistia.
+  Babylon.
+  The Devil's Die.
+  This Mortal Coil.
+  In all Shades.
+  The Beckoning Hand.
+  For Maimie's Sake.
+  Tents of Shem.
+  The Great Taboo.
+
+By ALAN ST. AUBYN.
+
+  A Fellow of Trinity.
+
+By Rev. S. BARING GOULD.
+
+  Red Spider.
+  Eve.
+
+By FRANK BARRETT.
+
+  Fettered for Life.
+  Between Life and Death.
+  The Sin of Olga Zassoulich.
+  Folly Morrison.
+  Honest Davie.
+  Lieut. Barnabas.
+  A Prodigal's Progress.
+  Found Guilty.
+  A Recoiling Vengeance.
+  For Love and Honour.
+  John Ford; and His Helpmate.
+
+By W. BESANT & J. RICE.
+
+  This Son of Vulcan.
+  My Little Girl.
+  Case of Mr. Lucraft.
+  Golden Butterfly.
+  By Celia's Arbour.
+  Monks of Thelema.
+  The Seamy Side.
+  Ten Years' Tenant.
+  Ready-Money Mortiboy.
+  With Harp and Crown.
+  'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay.
+  The Chaplain of the Fleet.
+
+By WALTER BESANT.
+
+  Dorothy Forster.
+  Children of Gibeon.
+  Uncle Jack.
+  Herr Paulus.
+  All Sorts and Conditions of Men.
+  The Captains' Room.
+  All In a Garden Fair.
+  The World Went Very Well Then.
+  For Faith and Freedom.
+  To Call Her Mine.
+  The Bell of St. Paul's.
+  The Holy Rose.
+
+By SHELSLEY BEAUCHAMP.
+
+  Grantley Grange.
+
+By FREDERICK BOYLE.
+
+  Camp Notes.
+  Savage Life.
+  Chronicles of No-man's Land.
+
+By BRET HARTE.
+
+  Flip.
+  Maruja.
+  Californian Stories.
+  Gabriel Conroy.
+  An Heiress of Red Dog.
+  The Luck of Roaring Camp.
+  A Phyllis of the Sierras.
+
+By HAROLD BRYDGES.
+
+  Uncle Sam at Home.
+
+By ROBERT BUCHANAN.
+
+  The Shadow of the Sword.
+  A Child of Nature.
+  God and the Man.
+  Love Me for Ever.
+  Foxglove Manor.
+  The Martyrdom of Madeline.
+  Annan Water.
+  The New Abelard.
+  Matt.
+  The Heir of Linne.
+  The Master of the Mine.
+
+By HALL CAINE.
+
+  The Shadow of a Crime.
+  A Son of Hagar.
+  The Deemster.
+
+By Commander CAMERON.
+
+  The Cruise of the "Black Prince."
+
+By Mrs. LOVETT CAMERON.
+
+  Deceivers Ever.
+  Juliet's Guardian.
+
+By AUSTEN CLARE.
+
+  For the Love of a Lass.
+
+By Mrs. ARCHER CLIVE.
+
+  Paul Ferroll.
+  Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife.
+
+By MACLAREN COBBAN.
+
+  The Cure of Souls.
+
+By C. ALLSTON COLLINS.
+
+  The Bar Sinister.
+
+MORT. & FRANCES COLLINS.
+
+  Sweet Anne Page.
+  Transmigration.
+  From Midnight to Midnight.
+  A Fight with Fortune.
+  Sweet and Twenty.
+  Frances.
+  Village Comedy.
+  You Play me False.
+  Blacksmith and Scholar.
+
+By WILKIE COLLINS.
+
+  Armadale.
+  After Dark.
+  No Name.
+  Antonina.
+  Basil.
+  Hide and Seek.
+  The Dead Secret.
+  Queen of Hearts.
+  Miss or Mrs?
+  New Magdalen.
+  The Frozen Deep.
+  Law and the Lady.
+  The Two Destinies.
+  Haunted Hotel.
+  A Rogue's Life.
+  My Miscellanies.
+  Woman in White.
+  The Moonstone.
+  Man and Wife.
+  Poor Miss Finch.
+  The Fallen Leaves.
+  Jezebel's Daughter.
+  The Black Robe.
+  Heart and Science.
+  "I Say No."
+  The Evil Genius.
+  Little Novels.
+  Legacy of Cain.
+  Blind Love.
+
+By M. J. COLQUHOUN.
+
+  Every Inch a Soldier.
+
+By DUTTON COOK.
+
+  Leo.
+  Paul Foster's Daughter.
+
+By C. EGBERT CRADDOCK.
+
+  Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains.
+
+By R. M. CROKER.
+
+  Pretty Miss Neville.
+  A Bird of Passage.
+  Diana Barrington.
+  Proper Pride.
+
+By WILLIAM CYPLES.
+
+  Hearts of Gold.
+
+By ALPHONSE DAUDET.
+
+  The Evangelist; or, Port Salvation.
+
+By JAMES DE MILLE.
+
+  A Castle in Spain.
+
+By J. LEITH DERWENT.
+
+  Our Lady of Tears.
+  Circe's Lovers.
+
+By CHARLES DICKENS.
+
+  Sketches by Boz.
+  Pickwick Papers.
+  Oliver Twist.
+  Nicholas Nickleby.
+
+By DICK DONOVAN.
+
+  The Man-Hunter.
+  Caught at Last!
+  Tracked and Taken.
+  Who Poisoned Hetty Duncan?
+  The Man from Manchester.
+  A Detective's Triumphs.
+  In the Grip of the Law.
+
+By Mrs. ANNIE EDWARDES.
+
+  A Point of Honour.
+  Archie Lovell.
+
+By M. BETHAM-EDWARDS.
+
+  Felicia.
+  Kitty.
+
+By EDWARD EGGLESTON.
+
+  Roxy.
+
+By PERCY FITZGERALD.
+
+  Bella Donna.
+  Never Forgotten.
+  Polly.
+  Fatal Zero.
+  The Second Mrs. Tillotson.
+  Seventy-five Brooke Street.
+  The Lady of Brantome.
+
+By PERCY FITZGERALD and others.
+
+  Strange Secrets.
+
+ALBANY DE FONBLANQUE.
+
+  Filthy Lucre.
+
+By R. E. FRANCILLON.
+
+  Olympia.
+  One by One.
+  A Real Queen.
+  Queen Cophetua.
+  King or Knave?
+  Romances of Law.
+
+By HAROLD FREDERICK.
+
+  Seth's Brother's Wife.
+  The Lawton Girl.
+
+Pref. by Sir BARTLE FRERE.
+
+  Pandurang Hari.
+
+By HAIN FRISWELL.
+
+  One of Two.
+
+By EDWARD GARRETT.
+
+  The Capel Girls.
+
+By CHARLES GIBBON.
+
+  Robin Gray.
+  Fancy Free.
+  For Lack of Gold.
+  What will the World Say?
+  In Love and War.
+  For the King.
+  In Pastures Green.
+  Queen of Meadow.
+  A Heart's Problem.
+  The Dead Heart.
+  In Honour Bound.
+  Flower of Forest.
+  Braes of Yarrow.
+  The Golden Shaft.
+  Of High Degree.
+  Mead and Stream.
+  Loving a Dream.
+  A Hard Knot.
+  Heart's Delight.
+  Blood-Money.
+
+By WILLIAM GILBERT.
+
+  Dr. Austin's Guests.
+  James Duke.
+  The Wizard of the Mountain.
+
+By ERNEST GLANVILLE.
+
+  The Lost Heiress.
+
+By HENRY GREVILLE.
+
+  A Noble Woman.
+  Nikanor.
+
+By JOHN HABBERTON.
+
+  Brueton's Bayou.
+  Country Luck.
+
+By ANDREW HALLIDAY.
+
+  Every-Day Papers.
+
+By Lady DUFFUS HARDY.
+
+  Paul Wynter's Sacrifice.
+
+By THOMAS HARDY.
+
+  Under the Greenwood Tree.
+
+By J. BERWICK HARWOOD.
+
+  The Tenth Earl.
+
+By JULIAN HAWTHORNE.
+
+  Garth.
+  Ellice Quentin.
+  Fortune's Fool.
+  Miss Cadogna.
+  Sebastian Strome.
+  Dust.
+  Beatrix Randolph.
+  Love--or a Name.
+  David Poindexter's Disappearance.
+  The Spectre of the Camera.
+
+By Sir ARTHUR HELPS.
+
+  Ivan de Biron.
+
+By HENRY HERMAN.
+
+  A Leading Lady.
+
+By Mrs. CASHEL HOEY.
+
+  The Lover's Creed.
+
+By Mrs. GEORGE HOOPER.
+
+  The House of Raby.
+
+By TIGHE HOPKINS.
+
+  'Twixt Love and Duty.
+
+By Mrs. HUNGERFORD.
+
+  A Maiden all Forlorn.
+  In Durance Vile.
+  Marvel.
+  A Mental Struggle.
+  A Modern Circe.
+
+By Mrs. ALFRED HUNT.
+
+  Thornicroft's Model.
+  That Other Person.
+  Self Condemned.
+  Leaden Casket.
+
+By JEAN INGELOW.
+
+  Fated to be Free.
+
+By HARRIETT JAY
+
+  The Dark Colleen.
+  The Queen of Connaught.
+
+By MARK KERSHAW.
+
+  Colonial Facts and Fictions.
+
+By R. ASHE KING.
+
+  A Drawn Game.
+  Passion's Slave.
+  "The Wearing of the Green."
+  Bell Barry
+
+By JOHN LEYS.
+
+  The Lindsays.
+
+By E. LYNN LINTON.
+
+  Patricia Kemball.
+  World Well Lost.
+  Under which Lord?
+  Paston Carew.
+  "My Love!"
+  Ione.
+  The Atonement of Leam Dundas.
+  With a Silken Thread.
+  The Rebel of the Family.
+  Sowing the Wind.
+
+By HENRY W. LUCY.
+
+  Gideon Fleyce.
+
+By JUSTIN McCARTHY.
+
+  A Fair Saxon.
+  Linley Rochford.
+  Miss Misanthrope.
+  Donna Quixote.
+  Maid of Athens.
+  Camiola.
+  Dear Lady Disdain.
+  The Waterdale Neighbours.
+  My Enemy's Daughter.
+  The Comet of a Season.
+
+By AGNES MACDONELL.
+
+  Quaker Cousins.
+
+KATHARINE S. MACQUOID.
+
+  The Evil Eye.
+  Lost Rose.
+
+By W. H. MALLOCK.
+
+  The New Republic.
+
+By FLORENCE MARRYAT.
+
+  Open! Sesame!
+  Fighting the Air.
+  A Harvest of Wild Oats.
+  Written in Fire.
+
+By J. MASTERMAN.
+
+  Half-a-dozen Daughters.
+
+By BRANDER MATTHEWS.
+
+  A Secret of the Sea.
+
+By LEONARD MERRICK.
+
+  The Man who was Good.
+
+By JEAN MIDDLEMASS.
+
+  Touch and Go.
+  Mr. Dorillion.
+
+By Mrs. MOLESWORTH.
+
+  Hathercourt Rectory.
+
+By J. E. MUDDOCK.
+
+  Stories Weird and Wonderful.
+  The Dead Man's Secret.
+
+By D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.
+
+  A Model Father.
+  Joseph's Coat.
+  Coals of Fire.
+  Val Strange.
+  Old Blazer's Hero.
+  Hearts.
+  Way of the World.
+  Cynic Fortune.
+  A Life's Atonement.
+  By the Gate of the Sea.
+  A Bit of Human Nature.
+  First Person Singular.
+
+By MURRAY and HERMAN.
+
+  One Traveller Returns.
+  Paul Jones's Alias.
+  The Bishops' Bible.
+
+By HENRY MURRAY.
+
+  A Game of Bluff.
+
+By ALICE O'HANLON.
+
+  The Unforeseen.
+  Chance? or Fate?
+
+By GEORGES OHNET.
+
+  Doctor Rameau.
+  A Weird Gift.
+  A Last Love.
+
+By Mrs. OLIPHANT.
+
+  Whiteladies.
+  The Primrose Path
+  The Greatest Heiress in England.
+
+By Mrs. ROBERT O REILLY.
+
+  Phoebe's Fortunes.
+
+By OUIDA.
+
+  Held In Bondage.
+  Strathmore.
+  Chandos.
+  Under Two Flags.
+  Idalia.
+  Cecil Castlemaine's Gage.
+  Tricotrin.
+  Puck.
+  Folle Farine.
+  A Dog of Flanders.
+  Pascarel.
+  Signa.
+  Princess Napraxine.
+  In a Winter City.
+  Ariadne.
+  Two Little Wooden Shoes.
+  Friendship.
+  Moths.
+  Pipistrello.
+  A Village Commune.
+  Bimbi.
+  Wanda.
+  Frescoes.
+  In Maremma.
+  Othmar.
+  Guilderoy.
+  Ruffino.
+  Syrlin.
+  Ouida's Wisdom, Wit, and Pathos.
+
+MARGARET AGNES PAUL.
+
+  Gentle and Simple.
+
+By JAMES PAYN.
+
+  Bentinck's Tutor.
+  Murphy's Master.
+  A County Family.
+  At Her Mercy.
+  Cecil's Tryst.
+  Clyffards of Clyffe.
+  Foster Brothers.
+  Found Dead.
+  Best of Husbands.
+  Walter's Word.
+  Halves.
+  Fallen Fortunes.
+  Humorous Stories.
+  L200 Reward.
+  Marine Residence.
+  Mirk Abbey.
+  By Proxy.
+  Under One Roof.
+  High Spirits.
+  Carlyon's Year.
+  From Exile.
+  For Cash Only.
+  Kit.
+  The Canon's Ward
+  Talk of the Town.
+  Holiday Tasks.
+  Lost Sir Massingberd.
+  A Perfect Treasure.
+  A Woman's Vengeance.
+  The Family Scapegrace.
+  What He Cost Her.
+  Gwendoline's Harvest.
+  Like Father, Like Son.
+  Married Beneath Him.
+  Not Wooed, but Won.
+  Less Black than We're Painted.
+  A Confidential Agent.
+  Some Private Views.
+  A Grape from a Thorn.
+  Glow-worm Tales.
+  The Mystery of Mirbridge.
+  The Burnt Million.
+  The Word and the Will.
+  A Prince of the Blood.
+
+By C. L. PIRKIS.
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+  Lady Lovelace.
+
+By EDGAR A. POE.
+
+  The Mystery of Marie Roget.
+
+By E. C. PRICE.
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+  Valentina.
+  The Foreigners
+  Mrs. Lancaster's Rival.
+  Gerald.
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+By CHARLES READE.
+
+  It is Never Too Late to Mend.
+  Christie Johnstone.
+  Put Yourself in His Place.
+  The Double Marriage.
+  Love Me Little, Love Me Long.
+  The Cloister and the Hearth.
+  The Course of True Love.
+  Autobiography of a Thief.
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+  Good Stories of Men and other Animals.
+  Hard Cash.
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+  Griffith Gaunt.
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+  A Simpleton.
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+
+By Mrs. J. H. RIDDELL.
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+  Weird Stories.
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+  The Uninhabited House.
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+By F. W. ROBINSON.
+
+  Women are Strange.
+  The Hands of Justice.
+
+By JAMES RUNCIMAN.
+
+  Skippers and Shellbacks.
+  Grace Balmaign's Sweetheart.
+  Schools and Scholars.
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+By W. CLARK RUSSELL.
+
+  Round the Galley Fire.
+  On the Fo'k'sle Head.
+  In the Middle Watch.
+  A Voyage to the Cape.
+  A Book for the Hammock.
+  The Mystery of the "Ocean Star."
+  The Romance of Jenny Harlowe.
+  An Ocean Tragedy.
+  My Shipmate Louise.
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+GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA.
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+By ARTHUR SKETCHLEY.
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+BY BERTHA THOMAS.
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+CELIA PARKER WOOLLEY.
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+  Rachel Armstrong; or, Love & Theology.
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+By EDMUND YATES.
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+  The Forlorn Hope.
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+  Land at Last.
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+
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