That epistle she had regarded in the light of a gratuitous piece of impertinence emanating either from Mr. Kleinwort or Mr. Forde, and under this impression she worded the advertisement which so annoyed Mr.

Asherill; but when the last post of the next day brought those two missives, she began to wonder whether John Jones might not really have been some humble friend gifted with greater prescience than she possessed, who, unknowing of the remnant of her quarter's income she still possessed, might imagine her so short of money that even two pounds four shillings might prove acceptable.

Moved by some incomprehensible impulse, she, the most careless of created beings, searched for that letter and locked it away in her dressing-case.

There was no Rupert to talk to now. Twice since his departure he had appeared at Homewood, the first time to say Antonia was busy purchasing her trousseau, and that old Dean had acted most generously in the matter of money, on the next occasion to ask Dolly not to expect to see him before Monday, as he was obliged to go down to Bath; the real truth being Rupert had thought the Homewood matter over, and decided that until Antonia had become Mrs. Dean, the less he saw of that place the better.

On the occasion of his first visit, Turner, the man already mentioned as having incited Esther to remove those vases and statuettes which seemed to them both desirable possessions, stopped him on his way to the gate.

"You and Mr. Lang, sir, saw a man the other morning looking over the fence, I believe?"

Rupert nodded assent.

"And you asked Lang who he was, and Lang could not tell you?"

"Yes," agreed Mr. Halling.

"Well, I know, sir; he's a detective, and there are more of them about."

Rupert stepped back as if he had received a blow, he stepped back so far he was brought up by a tree of _arbor vitae_, out of which he emerged dripping with wet.

"Detectives?" he repeated, taking off his hat and smoothing it mechanically. "What can they want here?"

"If I am not greatly out in my calculation, sir, there are those in this business who would cheerfully give a hundred pounds to catch Mr.

Mortomley tripping, or to be able to prove he ever did trip."

"Mr. Mortomley may safely defy them then," said Rupert, but he did not turn back and warn Dolly there were spies round and about watching the old familiar place.

Mr. Turner stood contemplating his retreating figure.

"A fine young man," he thought, "but cut out and made up after the world's pattern. And so he won't tell her. Well, then, I will; for a lady like Mrs. Mortomley ought not to be kept in the dark. And her husband too ill to look after aught for himself," added Mr. Turner, who in truth was with the Mortomleys heart and soul, so far as the exigencies of his delightful profession allowed him to have sympathy for any one beyond the "one" who had put him in possession.

So he told Esther, who told her mistress, who was naturally incredulous of, and indignant at, Turner's statement.

"Detectives!" she repeated scornfully. "Does the man suppose we are thieves or murderers?"

"No, ma'am, but I--I do really think he is sorry for you--and--the master."

Esther was brushing Mrs. Mortomley's hair, as she uttered this sentence slowly, and with considerable hesitation.

In the glass she could see reflected her mistress's downcast face--the sudden compression of her lips--the quiver about her mouth.

They had sunk very low Dolly felt, when even the bailiffs pitied them!

That was her first thought. Her next was, that in his way Turner was trying to do his best for her and her husband, but she could not trust herself to speak upon the subject, so she refrained from answering, and the brushing proceeded in silence.

Next morning Esther detected some white hairs amongst the brown. Of late this had been a matter of no rare occurrence.

"What does it signify?" Mrs. Mortomley exclaimed. "If these men stay here much longer my hair will be white as snow. Oh! I wish!--I wish--I wish!" she added passionately, "we had a house to ourselves once again.

If it were the humblest cottage in England in which I could shut the door and feel we were alone, I should thank God for his mercy--"

"It cannot be for long, ma'am, Turner says--" Esther was beginning, when Mrs. Mortomley faced round upon her.

"If you mention that man's name again, I will give you notice."

Which certainly most servants so situated would have taken without further ceremony on the spot.

If Mrs. Mortomley had possessed the wisdom of the serpent, she would not have arrayed herself in the gorgeous attire she selected as especially suitable for a visit to Mr. Swanland's offices; but Dolly could not yet realize the fact that her husband was bankrupt, that a trustee ruled at Homewood, that the last man in possession was his lord-lieutenant, that the men were no longer Mortomley's men, but belonged to Mr. Swanland, as did the works and everything else, themselves scarcely excepted, about the place.

So, arrayed like the Queen of Sheba, Dolly started away on foot to catch the train from Leytonstone which should enable her to reach Mr.

Swanland's office by eleven.

There were horses in the stable, but Mrs. Mortomley forbade them being harnessed for her benefit.

"It was a fine morning and she preferred walking," she said; though Mr.

Meadows with some effusion of manner assured her, if she wished, he would have the carriage brought round directly, and he continued to press his offer till she cut him short by saying,

"As it seems I can no longer order my carriage for myself, I shall walk.

You have taken very good care, Mr. Meadows, during the course of the last two days to let me know I am not mistress here or my husband master. Kindly stand aside and let me pass. I have to see your employer at eleven o'clock."

And she opened the gate for herself, and walked out into the road as if not Homewood alone but all the stately homes of England had belonged to her of right; walked out to hear the worst which could befall.

It was a splendid morning. After raining for a whole week with scarcely a moment's intermission, the weather that day seemed to have made up its mind to turn over a new leaf and to be bright for evermore.

Athwart all the forest glades sunbeams fell in golden bars on the vivid turf; the trees were still in full leaf, the songs of birds sounded in Dolly's ears; all nature seemed careless and happy and prodigal; and as the woman upon whom such trouble had fallen so suddenly looked first on this side and on that, she thanked God involuntarily for the beauty of this beautiful world, and then exclaimed almost aloud,

"And there _must_ be some way into the sunshine for us, if I could only see which turning to take."

There was, my dear, and you had taken the turning. All unconsciously your feet were already treading a path leading into the sunshine--through dreary wastes it is true--along places stony and thorny; across wilds hard to traverse, but still a path conducting to the sunshine, out of the blind, maddening, perplexing darkness, into light.

It has always been a puzzle to me why the newest offices in London are those which seem most frequently under the hand of the house decorator.

If you happen to have an account at an old banking establishment, to have entrusted your affairs to the management of an old-fashioned solicitor, or to be acquainted with a broker who is one of a firm known in the City for years, you may call upon each and all of them, season after season, without fearing to encounter that villainous smell of paint which meet those who do business with new people at every turn, on every landing.

As for Salisbury House, painters, white-washers, paper-hangers, and varnishers pervaded it with a perpetual presence.

A man given to punning once suggested the reason for this was--the dreadful cases taken in there--but Mr. Asherill, to whom the remark was made, would not see the intended joke, and observed it might be well for some people, who did not possess a saving faith, if men were able to perform a similar cleansing operation on their souls.

On the occasion of Mrs. Mortomley's first visit to Salisbury House, Mr.

Swanland's own office was undergoing a course of purification, and he was therefore compelled to receive her in the room where a week previously Messrs. Kleinwort and Werner had been admitted to an audience with the senior partner.

In acknowledgment of his own comparatively subordinate standing in the firm, Mr. Swanland's papers were ranged upon a table covered with green baize, drawn close beside the window, while Mr. Asherill maintained his position at the ponderous mass of mahogany and morocco leather which occupied the centre of the room.

When Mrs. Mortomley entered, Mr. Asherill rose, and, with a profound bow and studied courtesy of manner, handed her a chair.

Mr. Swanland availed himself of this opportunity of feebly indicating his senior as "my partner;" then, while Mr. Benning who was present advanced to shake hands, Mr. Asherill resumed his seat and his occupation with an air which said plainly to all who cared to understand,

"Now don't interrupt me or trouble me about your trumpery business. Here am I with the whole future of mercantile London on my shoulders, and it is absurd to expect me to give the smallest attention to this ridiculously poor affair."

At intervals he touched his office bell, and sent the clerk who appeared in answer, to Mr. So-and-So, to know about such and such an affair; or had a book big enough to have contained lengthy biographies of all the Lord Mayors of London from the time of Fitz Alwyn downwards brought in, from which he made a feint of extracting some useful information; but really all the time he was watching Mrs. Mortomley.