"And now for my night's work," she said, glancing round the room, where a fire burned redly in the grate, and the ghostly December day faded from point to point.

She quietly made arrangements against being interrupted; rang the bell, and called to the maid through the door that she had retired for the night, and did not wish any dinner, except a cup of strong coffee, which should be brought to her by the housekeeper.

Then she carefully locked her window, and closed the ma.s.sive mahogany shutters, lit her candles, drew her writing-table before the fire, swept the hearth, and saw that she had a supply of candles, matches, and pens.

By the time these arrangements were completed, the housekeeper was knocking at the door with the edge of a lunch-tray.

"Has Colonel Brand left the house?" called Margaret.

"Yes, miss, some time ago."

"Are you sure he's not lurking about your back, Mrs. Chetwode?"

"Holy mercy! I hope not."

Sounds of the tray being dumped on a hall-table ensued, and the hurried tread of the old woman showed that she was looking into various empty rooms.

"What made you think such a queer thing, dearie?" whispered she, presently, through the key-hole. "I seen him go out, plain as plain can be."

Margaret opened the door, and held out her hands for the tray.

"What did he say to my message?"

The housekeeper gave an expressive shudder.

"Ugh! He swore like a blasphemer at me, Miss Margaret, dear."

"Keep watch lest any of the doors be left open to-night, Mrs. Chetwode."

"Oh, yes, miss--though I'm sure Purcell is very careful. My goody! Miss Margaret, how wild you look! Surely you can't be well?"

"Oh, yes. Do not let any one disturb me to-night again, if you please.

Good-night."

"Sleep soundly, miss. Good-night."

The door was locked again, and Margaret sat down to her cup of coffee and her ponderings.

She was quite calm, quite strong of purpose when she opened her desk, laid the note-book upon it, and began her task.

And what a story these notes, remarks, and hinted plots disclosed to her!

It commenced with, strange to say, a description of herself, her position at Castle Brand, what she said when summoned to receive St. Udo Brand's note on the night of Mrs. Brand's death. Then followed the words:

"I believe I could do it. My own perseverance tells me I could do it; the devil in the shape of Calembours tells me I could do it."

Leaf after leaf of such hints were read and laid to heart, then a paragraph which made those deep gray eyes grow black with apprehension.

"All right. Am _sure_ I can do it. My chances doubled by the actors themselves. The will is in favor of M. W. St. U. scornfully washes his hands of the affair, preferring a pretty face and poverty. Stupid devil, to throw away such a birthright! Lucky dog, who is to be his successor?

Let the rogue win the race. I am so tired of the dodges, the twists, the aliases, the lurkings, that I will put on the greatest disguise of all, a gentleman swell, and try what freedom is like, and the sea-captain's daughter, and Seven-Oak Waaste. St. U. sails to-morrow for the United States, and I send company with him which will twist him into shape more than the haughty dog expects. Be kind to him, oh, captivating chevalier!

be attentive to him, oh, patient _Thoms_!"

Then came a complete interview between St. Udo Brand and the "Chevalier," purporting to have taken place on board the steamer going to New York, with this laudatory conclusion:

"Thoms, you are no fool. Thoms, I really think you are a genius."

Leaf after leaf again. The firm lip curved with stern determination, the brain quick and comprehending.

The copy of the farewell letter from St. Udo to herself was the next glimpse of a familiar past, with the leaf turned down just where the cunning hypocrite had marked the place during that walk under the oaks.

Then a copy of his letter to Lady Juliana Ducie, in which he had "pinned his faith" to her sleeve, with a memorandum attached of, "Faithfully mailed by good Thoms; and thus ends St. U.'s affair with little Ducie.

Now he will fight like a devil with these Yankees."

Following this was the transcription of two letters to Gay and Davenport, in which St. Udo had scornfully explained the fact of his departure from England.

Then came the secret of his ready recognition of Lady Juliana when she stood before him in the Brands' reception-room. Her photograph, painted beautifully, was pasted into a cunning little pocket, and her description was written out at full, as if the picture were not to be trusted alone.

Initials of strange names--addresses in London, sc.r.a.ps of information about officers in the Guards--a frequent (see private alb.u.m)--carefully noted _bon mots_ of different English friends of the colonel's, anecdotes of London life, all headed by the significant note:

"Brand's daily gossip.--Study well."

Then came a copy of Lady Juliana's letter of dismissal, with the comment:

"Thoms, my boy, you did well to search that vest pocket."

This grim pleasantry of the genial writer closed what appeared to be part the first in the movements of the watched man.

Let her think before she turned the leaf; let her rest her whirling brain awhile, and examine this curious idea which had slid into her mind. Who was Thoms!

In this memorandum book he purported to be a valet. Was Thoms Roland Mortlake? Could he have crawled round his purpose under the disguise of a body-servant, touching daily the man whom he meant to murder?

Put these thoughts of horror away--go on to the end.

Part the second commenced with St. Udo's first battle, and his part in it minutely described.

Then followed letters from the executors of the Brand estates, in which Margaret saw her departure to become school-teacher freely commented on as a freak which would soon wear itself out.

Then suddenly followed, dashed down in a rough, unsteady hand, as if in the dark, five or six pages of phonetic writing.

Patiently Margaret spelled it out--the life of St. Udo Brand, as told to the Chevalier de Calembours at the midnight camp-fire. Every minute detail, every pa.s.sing mention of a friend, of a place visited, of scenes, adventures, college incidents; also what made the heart burn in the breast of the woman who was reading these records--a few sad sentences which told the secret of poor St. Udo's bitterness.

"Calembours, I would have been a better man now but for one grave mistake which I made early in life. I loved a woman pa.s.sionately and purely; she was my first conception of love, and would have perfected in me a n.o.ble manhood had she been worthy. She broke the trust--vilely cheated me, and fled with an officer in the artillery, a man whom all pure women would have shrunk from; and she was lost, as she might have foreseen. Since then, to perdition to the s.e.x, say I, and their cant of feminine purity, for of all crafty, insatiable, double-faced hypocrites I have found woman to be the worst."

The next few leaves were covered with crude specimens of writing. St.

Udo's name again and again, until it was a perfect imitation of St.

Udo's hand, and, after this, the notes were written in the newly-acquired style, as if to perfect the cunning forger.

Then was faithfully narrated an interview between "the chevalier" and Colonel Brand, in which the former was proposing to his friend to turn traitor, and go with him to the South, and take up arms against their present comrades.