"That is just what I thought; but that is not the case. Oh, Berenice, what a revelation it is; but I will tell you all about it," said Claudia,

And when they were cozily seated together beside the drawing-room fire Claudia related the story her father had told her of the conspiracy against her own honor, the abduction and sale of the negroes, and the recognition and recovery of them.

"I am not surprised at anything in that story but the providential manner in which the servants were recovered. I believe the viscount capable of any crime, or restrained only by his cowardice. If he should hesitate at assassination, I believe that it would not be from the horror of blood-guiltiness, but from the fear of the gallows. I hope that no weak relenting, Claudia, will cause either you or your father to spare such a ruthless monster."

"No, Berenice, no. I have said to my father, 'Let Lord Vincent have justice, though that justice place him in the felon's dock, in the hulks, or on the scaffold.' No, I do not believe it would be fair to the community to turn such a man loose upon them."

While Lady Hurstmonceux and Lady Vincent conversed in this manner, Judge Merlin drove to Edinboro'.

He reached Magruder's Hotel, where he had left Ishmael Worth, the professor, and the three negroes.

Ishmael had lost no time; he had seen that the whole party had breakfast; and then he had gone himself and engaged a first-class carriage in the express train that started for Aberdeen at twelve, noon.

They were now therefore only waiting for Judge Merlin. And as soon as the judge arrived the whole party started for the station, which they reached in time to catch the train. Three hours' steaming northward and they ran into the station at Aberdeen. The stage was just about starting for Banff. They got into it at once, and in three more hours of riding they reached that picturesque old town.

Merely waiting long enough to engage rooms at the best hotel and deposit their luggage there, they took a carriage and drove to the house of Sir Alexander McKetchum, who was one of the most respected magistrates of Banff.

Judge Merlin introduced himself and his party, produced his credentials, laid his charge, and presented his witnesses.

To say that the worthy Scotch justice was astonished, amazed, would scarcely be to describe the state of panic and consternation into which he was thrown.

Long he demurred and hesitated over the affair; again and again he questioned the accusers; over and over again he required to hear the statement; and slowly and reluctantly at last be consented to issue the warrants for the apprehension of Lord Vincent, Alick Frisbie, and Faustina Dugald.

Ishmael took care to see that these warrants were placed in the hands of an efficient policeman, with orders that he should proceed at once to the arrest of the parties named within them.

And then our party returned to their hotel to await results.

CHAPTER XLI.

ARREST OF LORD VINCENT AND FAUSTINA.

Our plots fall short like darts that rash hands throw With an ill aim that have so far to go, Nor can we long discovery prevent, We deal too much among the innocent.

--_Howard_.

Lord Vincent was at Castle Cragg. Unable to absent himself long from the siren who was the evil genius of his life, he had come down on a quiet visit to her. A very quiet visit it was, for he affected jealously to guard the honor of one who in truth had no honor to lose. The guilty who have much to conceal are often more discreet than the innocent who have nothing to fear.

Mrs. MacDonald was still at the castle, playing propriety to the beauty. A very complacent person was Mrs. MacDonald.

This precaution deceived no one. The neighboring gentry rightly estimated the domestic life at Castle Cragg and the character of its inmates, and refrained from calling there.

This avoidance of her society by the county families galled Faustina.

"What do they mean by it?" she said to herself. "I am the Honorable Mrs. Dugald. Ah, they think I have lost myself. But they shall know better when they see me the Viscountess Vincent, and afterwards, no one knows how soon, Countess of Hurstmonceux and Marchioness of Banff! Ah, what a difference that will make!"

And Faustina consoled herself with anticipations of a brilliant future, in which she would reign as a queen over these scornful prudes. But Faustina reckoned without Nemesis, her creditor. And Nemesis was at the door.

It was a wild night. The snowstorm that had been threatening all day long came down like avalanches whirled before the northern blast. It was a night in which no one would willingly go abroad; when everyone keenly appreciated the comfort of shelter.

Very comfortable on this evening was Mrs. Dugald's boudoir. The crimson carpet and crimson curtains glowed ruddy red in the lamplight and firelight. The thundering dash of the sea upon the castle rock below came, softened into a soothing lullaby, to this bower of beauty.

Lord Vincent and Mrs. Dugald were seated at an elegant and luxurious little supper that would have satisfied the most fastidious and dainty epicure. Three courses had been removed. The fourth--the dessert--was upon the table. Rare flowers bloomed in costly vases; ripe fruits blushed in gilded baskets; rich wines sparkled in antique flasks.

On one side of the table Faustina reclined gracefully in a crimson velvet easy-chair. The siren was beautifully dressed in the pure white that her sin-smutted soul, in its falsehood, affected. Her robe was of shining white satin, trimmed with soft white swan's- down; fine white lace delicately veiled her snowy neck and arms; white lilies of the valley wreathed her raven hair and rested on her rounded bosom.

She looked "divine," as her fool of a lover assured her. Yes, she looked "divine"--as the devil did when he appeared in the image of an angel of light.

How did she dare, that guilty and audacious woman, to assume a dress that symbolized purity and humility?

Lord Vincent lolled in the other armchair on the opposite side of the table, and from under his languid and half-tipsy eyelids cast passionate glances upon her.

Mrs. Macdonald had withdrawn her chair from the table and nearer the fire, and had fallen asleep, or complacently affected to do so; for Mrs. MacDonald was the soul of complacency. Mrs. Dugald declared that she was a love of an old lady.

"What a night it is outside! It is good to be here," said Faustina, taking a bunch of ripe grapes and turning towards the fire.

"Yes, my angel," answered the viscount drowsily, regarding her from under his eyelids. "What a bore it is!"

"What is a bore?" inquired Faustina, putting a ripe grape between her plump lips.

"That we are not married, my sweet."

"Eh bien! we soon shall be."

"Then why do you keep me at such a distance, my angel?"

"Ah, bah! think of something else!"

The viscount poured out a bumper of rich port and raised it to his lips.

"Put that wine down, Malcolm, you have had too much already."

He obeyed her and set the glass untasted on the board.

"That's a duck; now you shall have some grapes," she said, and, with pretty, childish grace, she began to pick the ripest grapes from her bunch and to put them one by one into the noble noodle's mouth.

"It is nice to be here, is it not, mon ami?" she smilingly asked.

"Yes, sweet angel!" he sighed languishingly.

"And when one thinks of the black dark and sharp cold and deep snow outside, and of travelers losing their way, and getting buried in the drifts and freezing to death, one feels so happy and comfortable in this warm, light room, eating fruit and drinking wine."

"Yes, sweet angel! but you won't let me have any more wine," said the viscount drowsily.

"You have had more than enough," she smiled, putting a ripe grape between his gaping lips.