Parker to appear at his office. He had been called unexpectedly out of town on the previous day, or events would have come to an issue before now. On his arrival this morning he looked eagerly through his correspondence, and had just taken up the letter from the expert and was reading its contents when his clerk entered, said that Miss Colchester had called, that she looked in serious trouble, and wished to see Mr.

Parker without delay.

"Ask Miss Colchester into my waiting-room, and say I will send for her presently," was the reply.

The clerk withdrew. Mr. Parker continued to read the expert's letter.

"I thought so," he said to himself; "he says the writings are not identical, that they have not been written by the same person. Miss Annie little knows what a trap she has got into. She is just here in the nick of time. Yes, I will see her; I will get the whole naked truth out of her. Guilty! of course she is guilty. After she has made her confession she shall come with me to the Gilroys. What an old, blind fool I have been. How could I ever doubt a girl with a face like Leslie's?"

He stood up as he spoke. The expert's letter had pleased him; but he could not but own that he felt nearly as puzzled as ever.

"Bless me if I know what it means even now," he said anxiously to himself.

The puzzled man was standing on his hearth. His hair was wildly rubbed over his head, and his eyes looked fiercer than Annie had ever seen them when she entered the room.

"Well, Miss Colchester," he said, "may I ask what is the meaning of this visit? It so happens that I am anxious to see you, and should have called upon you if you had not come to me. But, as a rule, I do not see people on private business in my office."

"I have come to speak to you about Leslie Gilroy," said Annie. "You are fond of Leslie?"

"It does not matter to you whether I care for her or not. What have you got to say about her?"

"Only that she is quite innocent," said Annie. "She never wrote that letter."

Mr. Parker's face wore an ugly sneer.

"I wonder now," he said, coming a step or two forward, "if you have been following me about on the sly for the last day or two? Do you happen to know that I had taken that letter and also the writing Leslie Gilroy left here the other day to Ess.e.x the expert? You are sharp enough to know most things. Did you find out about that?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"My meaning is plain enough. It is better to make confession before open detection, is it not?"

"I don't know anything," continued Annie; "I have never heard of Mr.

Ess.e.x before. I am the most wretched, miserable girl in the world. I came to you to confess, not knowing that you were able to expose me. It does not matter now in the very least whether you expose me or not, for I am going to expose myself. I did write that letter. I knew at the time that it was forgery; but I was desperate. Rupert wanted sixty pounds. He said that if he did not get the money he would be locked up; the police were already after him. He owed the money for a debt of such a nature that if he did not pay it he would be locked up."

"Well, all this is coming to the point with a vengeance," said Mr.

Parker.

Annie clutched hold of the nearest chair to steady herself.

"I am miserable, and I know that I deserve imprisonment, or anything you like to give me," she said.

"We will leave out the question about your deservings for the present,"

said the merchant. "What I want is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"Well, I did it," said Annie; "I did commit forgery. I was nearly mad. I have always loved Rupert better than I ought. He was my only brother, and I-I could never turn from him. It was idolatry, and I am punished."

"Go on with your story," said Mr. Parker.

"I am doing so; only you must give me time. Rupert wanted the money, and I was distracted. Leslie and I were roomfellows; she was always good to me."

"A nice return you have made for her kindness."

"I know that well; but you cannot understand the temptation. There, I don't mean to excuse myself. On the very evening when I saw Rupert, and found out all about his trouble, Leslie talked about you. I was so startled to find that she also knew you. She told me what you were doing for her, how liberal you were with your money, how very kind. She said that her father had been your greatest friend, and that you had made a sort of promise to help his children. As she spoke, a desperate idea came into my head. I was always very clever at imitating handwriting, and there was plenty of Leslie's about. The idea of making her appear to write to you for money came into my brain, and would not go away again.

I thought of it all night, and the scheme seemed almost impossible to be detected, and was my last and only resource. I rose very early, got hold of some of Leslie's handwriting, copied it carefully, wrote the letter which I brought to you, got permission to go to London from Miss Lauderdale, and saw you that afternoon. You gave me the money. I took it back. I gave it to Rupert."

"But even now I do not understand," said Mr. Parker. "I came down to Wingfield the next day. I was very much disturbed, I can tell you. That letter, which seemed to be Leslie's, shook my faith. I always considered her the finest, sweetest girl I had ever come across, like, very like, one whom I have lost; but no matter, you are unworthy to hear that name.

I came to Wingfield, and I saw Leslie, and she knew all about it; she did not deny anything."

"That is because she was n.o.ble. I was obliged to tell her the truth, and she resolved to screen me and take the consequences."

"'Pon my word! I never heard anything like this in the whole course of my life," said Mr. Parker. "n.o.ble! I should think she was; but what were you made of? You allowed her! Think what she suffered. I distrusted her, and you allowed her to screen you."

"I did, for Rupert's sake. I know I was bad, but I was not wholly bad.

She knew that if it were discovered I should be expelled from St.

Wode's, and my chance in life would be over, so she agreed to screen me.

I didn't guess at the time how much she would suffer, and what it would mean to her. Leslie saw Rupert and told him that if he would leave the country, and never return, she would keep his secret and mine. Rupert promised to go away. He went, and I thought I should never see him again. Then I lost my interest in my work. I found I could not study; and when I pa.s.sed my exam. I only took an ordinary, and my prospects were more or less ruined. I was terribly poor, for the little money that I had saved I had already given to my brother. When my own money was nearly gone I went to Leslie; that was a few days ago. I heard that you wanted a secretary, and I begged and implored of her to ask you to give me the post. Leslie did not like asking you. She said you were terribly changed to her; but at last she consented. She came here with me. You told her that if she told the real truth about the money you would give me the post. How could she tell you the truth without ruining me? We both knew it was all up then, although she implored me at the eleventh hour to make confession; but I could not-how could I without ruining Rupert?"

"You conscience has become very tender since then," said Mr. Parker.

"How is it you are here this morning?"

"I will tell you. Because Rupert himself has opened my eyes. Oh, I love him still; yes, I love him still; but my heart is broken. I don't care what happens to me. Friends of mine of the name of Acheson asked me to stay with them for a week. I had only fourteen shillings in the world, and I thought I would go. Mrs. Acheson was very kind-she was like a mother to me; but on the very day I went, on the day I saw you last, I met my brother. He had never gone away; he had broken his word to Leslie; he had got into fresh, awful trouble. He wanted more and more money; and, oh, Mr. Parker, last night he broke into the very house where I was staying, in order to steal some money which was in the drawing-room. What am I to do? Oh, if I might only die!"

The miserable girl fell on her knees, burying her face in a chair near by; her faint sobs sounded through the room.

Mr. Parker stood still for a moment, the color in his face was coming and going. What was he to do? He hated Annie Colchester, and yet from the bottom of his soul he pitied her. Before he could decide anything, there came a knock at the door.

"Particularly engaged just now," he called out.

"It's Miss Gilroy, sir. She wants to see you as soon as possible."

"Miss Gilroy! Bless my soul! what can she have come about?"

"Oh, do let her in. I know she will plead for me. She will ask you not to be too bitterly hard," said poor Annie.

Mr. Parker opened the door.

"Come right in, Leslie," he said. His manner had changed; there was a tremble in his deep voice.

Leslie came eagerly forward.

"I have come to ask you if you know anything about Annie Colchester,"

she began. "We are in dreadful trouble about her; she has disappeared, and-- Why, what is it? You seem to know something. What is wrong?"

"Only that I have learned the truth at last, Leslie. Annie Colchester is here; she has confessed everything. Stand up, Annie, and speak this moment."

But Annie was past this, her head was buried in her hands, and sobs shook her frame. Leslie gave one glance from Mr. Parker to Annie, and then sprang forward.

She fell on her knees by Annie's side, and put her arms round her.

"Oh, poor, poor Annie; have you really confessed?" said Leslie. "It was brave of you, dear; it was brave." She put her arms round Annie's neck and began to kiss her.