So saying, he took up his bag, and with the best swagger he could a.s.sume slunk from the room.

"See--stay here, young man," said the Mayor excitedly; "there's something else."

But he was gone. The outer door slammed to and his footsteps died gradually away down the street.

Mr Armstrong and the stranger exchanged glances in silence. Then the Mayor turned to Mr Armstrong with a stern face.

"Seems to me, sir," said he, "that if that young man's the knave, you're uncommon like the fool. You'll excuse me mentioning it after the service you have just rendered to the cause of veracity, but it's a solemn fact."

"I have heard the same opinion expressed by other authorities, and I have no doubt it is true. You mean to tell me I should have extorted from him a written recantation of his claim?"

"That's so; you guess right. Consequence is, I'm bound to stay now as a witness to see this quarrel through. Here have I come on a pleasure- trip to see my relatives, and it seems I've got to combine business and pleasure after all."

"You forget I've no hold over this man. He does not claim the property, although he guesses that my ward will hand it over to him if he proves his ident.i.ty. I can only show him to be a liar."

"You seem pretty sure of that."

"I am myself; and I hope, for everybody's sake, that your nephew, if he should turn up, will be a better credit to the name than this land- shark."

"Well, sir, I don't thank you for dragging me into the business; but, since I am here, I stay to see it out."

"I am relieved to hear you say so."

"Tell me now," said the Mayor, "what the story is; and what does our young friend mean by his farewell threats?"

Thereupon Mr Armstrong gave his new ally a faithful account of the family difficulty: of Captain Oliphant's embarra.s.sing relations to the claimant, of Miss Rosalind's dilemma, of Roger's quixotic determination to find his lost brother, and of his own--the tutor's--conviction of the hopelessness of the quest.

The visitor by no means shared the last conclusion.

"I rather calculate that lost young man ain't as dead as you think,"

said he. "By all accounts he wasn't born to be drowned, and he's not hung yet. You bet, the young brother will come up with him before time's called."

"Well, by the last accounts he seems to have a vague clue as to his whereabouts fifteen years ago," said the tutor; "we shall hear what he makes of it. To-morrow you must come up to Maxfield and see my co- trustee."

The presence of this unexpected friend of the family, in the capacity of impartial umpire, struck the tutor as particularly opportune at this juncture. He had been a witness to Ratman's virtual admission to his imposture, and his natural interest in the discovery of his own nephew was not likely to warp his determination to see fair play for Roger.

Captain Oliphant, when he heard next morning of the new arrival, by no means shared his co-trustee's satisfaction. The news, indeed, agitated him to a remarkable degree, and he astonished the tutor by his ill- concealed reluctance to meet him.

"It is important that you should see him," remarked the tutor. "As the uncle of the lost elder brother he is ent.i.tled, I think, to our confidence. I can imagine no reason why you should be afraid to see him."

"Afraid! Who says I am afraid to see him?"

"I can think of no other explanation of your reluctance--"

"Please, sir, Mr Headland to see you," announced Raffles.

Captain Oliphant changed colour as he turned to greet the visitor.

"You'll pardon the early call," said the latter, "but they gave me such a shocking supper at the inn, that I resolved to try my luck up here for breakfast. Captain Oliphant, I presume?--friend of my friend Armstrong.

Pleased to know you, sir. Pity you weren't with us last night to see the decline and fall of your ingenious friend, R. Ratman. Your colleague, sir, put that young man to bed in a way that would have made you enjoy yourself. Seems to me, captain, you are well rid of him."

"I fail to understand all this," said the captain. "If you refer to Mr Ratman's claims to be the lost Roger Ingleton--"

"My nephew," interposed the American.

"All I can say is, that I am not at all satisfied the claim is not a just one."

"Well, sir," said Mr Headland, "if that's your opinion, it's more than that young man thinks himself by this time. But never mind that."

"I do mind it, sir; and I should like to know what right any one has to decide the matter for me? I would suggest that, though we are pleased to see you, you should allow us to attend to our own business."

"I not only allow you, sir, but I expect it of you. And that reminds me of a question that has been puzzling me ever since I heard of the Squire's death. I wrote him a letter in the fall of last year."

The captain was seized with a sudden impulse to stir the fire, and as he stood thus with his back turned, Mr Armstrong could not help wondering what there was in the operation so violently to agitate the operator's frame.

"Yes, sir, a letter dated November 9th, which must have been delivered, as I have made inquiries, and find it was not returned. It contained money, and as it was never acknowledged, I had fears it was lost."

"Any letters for the Squire have been opened by his executors. I recollect none from abroad--do you, Captain Oliphant?" said the tutor.

The Captain, still with his back turned, said-- "No; it never came into my hands."

"Mrs Ingleton would hardly be likely to have opened it. It would be only a short time before her death."

"It's singular," said the Mayor. "My clerk posted it. He should have registered it, but omitted."

"How was it directed?" asked the captain, turning at last, and pale after his exertions.

"Roger Ingleton, senior, Maxfield, England."

"Hum! Did your clerk know it contained money?"

"Which means, did he purloin it? Well, sir, we shall see. An English bank-note can be traced. That's one advantage you have over us on the other side."

Mr Armstrong during this short colloquy experienced a curious depression of spirits. He was thinking, not of the bank-notes, or the American mayor, or even of Captain Oliphant, but of Rosalind and Jill and Tom; and the thought of them just at this moment made him feel very melancholy.

As for the captain, if his thoughts for a moment turned in the same direction, they came back instantly, with a strong revulsion of hate against the man who stood in his way at every turn; who seemed to read him through, to unmask him silently whenever he sought to take refuge in a lie, to pin him ruthlessly down to the consequences of his own delinquencies. But for Armstrong he might have been a free man--free of his debts, free of his frauds, clear in his children's eyes, able to hold up his head to all the world. As it was, everything seemed to conspire with his enemy to pinion him and hold him fast, a prey to the Nemesis that was on its way! What would he not give to have this stumbling-block out of the path, and feel himself free to breathe and hope once more?

In such a mood he spent the morning; and about midday, shaking off his visitor, wandered out into the park for fresh air and s.p.a.ce to think.

As he paced, there returned to him memories of old half-forgotten days, of faces that once looked into his trustfully, voices that once made his heart glad, children that once ran to welcome him; visions of vanished hopes, ambitions, ideals. Where were they all now? Who believed in him to-day? Who would believe in him a week hence? What voices rejoiced him now? Into whose life did he carry strength and cheer? The park stretched bleak and desolate before him; the earth lay sullen under his feet, the very trees drooped around him, and the great restless ocean beyond moaned at his coming. It was nothing to him that the smell of spring was in the air; that the lark was carolling high overhead; that the declining sun was darting his rays through the trees.

Near at hand rose a sound of laughter. He durst not turn that way, lest he should meet his own children.

Far away, through a break in the trees, he could catch a glimpse of the old church at Yeld with the Vicarage beside it, where dwelt the one being he dreaded most--his own daughter. From behind wafted a sound of music through an open window, where sat the man who had found him out and could ruin him by a word.

Which way was he to turn? Which way shall a man turn who would escape from himself?

For two long hours he wandered on caring not which way he took, and feeling himself step by step closer beset by his dismal forebodings.

Presently he found himself beyond the park boundaries on the open downs which stretched to the edge of the cliff. The touch of the salt sea- breeze on his fevered brow startled him and made him shiver. The last gleam of daylight was fading in the west, and when presently it flickered out and left him in the dark, he felt that the last ray of his own hope had vanished too. And yet, strange as it may seem, this man had never been quite as honest with himself as he was now. The game was fairly up. He had long since given up deluding himself that he was better than he seemed. Now the time was come when it hardly seemed worth while to delude other people. It was no use. Nor, to such a pa.s.s had he come, did it seem much use to be a coward. The dog whose last hope has gone will gather himself together for a final fling at his persecutors; the poltroon driven back against the wall, unable to retreat farther, will sometimes turn and make a stand such as he never deemed himself capable of before. And so Captain Oliphant, because he could do nothing else, plucked up a little courage and groped about in the dark for some new fragments of his lost manhood.