"Oh, a person who knew him."

"An Italian? A priest?"

Hugo was thinking of the possibility of Father Christoforo's having made his way to England.

"Yes," said Percival, dubiously. "A Benedictine monk, I believe. He hinted that you knew Stretton's real name."

"Quite a mistake," said Hugo. "I know nothing about him. But your priest sounds romantic. An old fellow, isn't he, with grey hair?"

"Not at all: young and slight, with dark eyes and rather a finely-cut face. Calls himself Dino Vasari or some such name."

Hugo started: a yellowish pallor overspread his face. For a moment he stopped short in the street: then hurried on so fast that Percival was left a few steps behind.

"What's the matter? So you know him?" said Heron, overtaking him by a few vigorous strides.

"A little. He's the biggest scoundrel I ever met," replied Hugo, slackening his pace and trying to speak easily. "I was surprised at his being in England, that was all. Do you know where he lives, that I may avoid the street!" he added, laughing.

Percival told him, wondering at his evident agitation.

"Then you can't tell me anything about Stretton?" he said, as they came to a building which he was about to enter.

"Nothing. Wish I could," said Hugo, turning away.

"So he escaped, after all!" he murmured to himself, as he walked down the street, with an occasional nervous glance to the right and left. "I thought I had done my work effectually: I did not know I was such a bungler. Does he guess who attacked him, I wonder? I suppose not, or I should have heard of the matter before now. Fortunate that I took the precaution of drugging him first. What an escape! And he has got hold of Heron! I shall have to make sure of the old lady pretty soon, or I foresee that Netherglen--and Kitty--never will be mine."

CHAPTER XXX.

FRIENDS AND BROTHERS.

In a little room on the second-floor of a London lodging-house near Manchester-square, Brian Luttrell was packing a box, with the few scanty possessions that he called his own. He had little light to see by, for the slender, tallow candle burnt with a very uncertain flame: the glare of the gas lamps in the street gave almost a better light. The floor was uncarpeted, the furniture scanty and poor: the fire in the grate smouldered miserably, and languished for want of fuel. But there was a contented look on Brian's face. He even whistled and hummed to himself as he packed his box, and though the tune broke down, and ended with a sigh, it showed a mind more at ease than Brian's had been for many a long day.

"Heigho!" he said, rising from his task, and giving the box a shove with his foot into a corner, "I wonder where Dino is? He ought not to be out so late with that cough of his. I suppose he has gone to Brett and Grattan's. I am glad the dear fellow has put himself into their hands.

Right ought to be done: she would have said so herself, and I know Dino will be generous. It would suit him very well to take a money compensation, and let her continue to reign, with glories somewhat shorn, however, at Strathleckie. I am afraid he will do nothing but enrich San Stefano with his inheritance. He certainly will not settle down at Netherglen as a country squire.

"What will my mother say? Pooh! I must get out of that habit of calling her my mother. She is no relation of mine, as she herself told me. Mrs.

Luttrell!--it sounds a little odd. Odder, too, to think that I must never sign myself Brian Luttrell any more. Bernardino Vasari! I think I might as well stick to the plain John Stretton, which I adopted on the spur of the moment at San Stefano. I suppose I shall soon have to meet the woman who calls herself--who is--my mother. I will say nothing harsh or unkind to her, poor thing! She has done herself a greater injury than she has done me."

So he meditated, with his face bent over his folded arms upon the mantelpiece. A slow step on the stair roused him, he poked the fire vigorously, lighted another candle, and then opened the door.

"Is that you, Dino?" he said. "Where have you been for the last three hours?"

Dino it was. He came in without speaking, and dropped into a chair, as if exhausted with fatigue. Brian repeated his question, but when Dino tried to answer it, a fit of coughing choked his words. It lasted several minutes, and left him panting, with the perspiration standing in great beads upon his brow.

With a grave and anxious face Brian brought him some water, wrapped a cloak round his shaking shoulders, and stood by him, waiting for the paroxysm of coughing to abate. Dino's cough was seldom more than the little hacking one, which the wound in his side seemed to have left, but it was always apt to grow worse in cold or foggy weather, and at times increased to positive violence. Brian, who had visited him regularly while he was in hospital, and nursed him with a woman's tenderness as soon as he was discharged from it, had never known it to be so bad as it was on this occasion.

"You've been overdoing yourself, old fellow," he said, affectionately, when Dino was able to look up and smile. "You have been out too late.

And this den of mine is not the place for you. You must clear out of it as soon as you can."

"Not as long as you are here," said Dino.

"That was all very well as long as we could remain unknown. But now that Brett and Grattan consent to take up your case, as I knew they would all along, they will want to see you: your friends and relations will want to visit you; and you must not be found here with me. I'll settle you in new lodgings before I sail. There's a comfortable place in Piccadilly that I used to know, with a landlady who is honest and kind."

"Too expensive for me," Dino murmured, with a pleasant light in his eyes, as Brian made preparations for their evening meal, with a skill acquired by recent practice.

"You forget that your expenses will be paid out of the estate," said Brian, "in the long run. Did not Brett offer to advance you funds if you wanted them?"

"Yes, and I declined them. I had enough from Father Christoforo,"

answered Dino, rather faintly. "I did not like to run the risk of spending what I might not be able to repay."

"Brett would not have offered you money if he did not feel very sure of his case. There can be no doubt of that," said Brian, as he set two cracked tea-cups on the table, and produced a couple of chops and a frying-pan from a cupboard. "You need not be afraid."

For some minutes the sound of hissing and spluttering that came from the frying-pan effectually prevented any further attempts at conversation.

When the cooking was over, Dino again addressed his friend.

"Do you want to know what I have been doing?"

"Yes, I mean you to give an account of yourself. But not until you have had some food. Eat and drink first; then talk."

Dino smiled and came to the table. But he had no appetite: he swallowed a few mouthfuls, evidently to please Brian only; then went back to the solitary arm-chair by the fire, and closed his eyes.

Brian did not disturb him. It was plain that Dino, not yet strong after his accident, had wearied himself out. He was glad, however, when the young man roused himself from a light and fitful doze, and said in his naturally tranquil voice:--

"I am ready to give an account of myself, as you call it, now."

"Then tell me," said Brian, leaning his elbow on the mantelpiece, and looking down upon the pale, somewhat emaciated countenance, with a tender smile, "what you mean by going about London in a dress which I thought that you had renounced for ever?"

"It only means," said Dino, returning the smile, "that you were mistaken. I had not renounced it, and I think that I shall keep to it now."

"You can hardly do that in your position," said Brian, quietly.

"My position! What is that to me? 'I had rather be a door-keeper in the house of the Lord'--you know what I mean: I have said it all to you before. If I go back to Italy, Brian, and the case falls through, as it may do through lack of witnesses, will you not take your own again?"

"And turn out Miss Murray? Certainly not." Then, after a pause, Brian asked, rather sternly, "What do you mean by the lack of witnesses? There are plenty of witnesses. There is--my--my mother--for one."

"No. She is dead."

"Dead. Vincenza Vasari dead?"

Dino recounted to him briefly enough the details of the catastrophe, but acknowledged, in reply to his quick questions, that there was no necessity for his claim to be given up on account of the death of these two persons. Mr. Brett, with whom he had conferred before visiting Percival Heron, had assured him that there could be no doubt of his identity with the child whom Mrs. Luttrell had given Vincenza to nurse; and, knowing the circumstances, he thought it probable that the law-suit would be an amicable one, and that Miss Murray would consent to a compromise. All this, Dino repeated, though with some reluctance, to his friend.

"You see, Brian," he continued, "there will be no reason for your hiding yourself if my case is proved. You would not be turning out Miss Murray or anybody else. You would be my friend, my brother, my helper. Will you not stay in England and be all this to me? I ask you, as I have asked you many times before, but I ask it now for the last time. Stay with me, and let it be no secret that you are living still."

"I can't do it, Dino. I must go. You promised not to ask it of me again, dear old fellow."