is breakfast in to him.

Mr. Carlyle entered whilst he was taking it. "How did you sleep,
Richard?"

"I slept well. I was so dead tired. What am I to do next, Mr. Carlyle?
The sooner I get away from here the better. I can't feel safe."

"You must not think of it before evening. I am aware that you cannot
remain here, save for a few temporary hours, as it would inevitably
become known to the servants. You say you think of going to Liverpool or
Manchester?"

"To any large town; they are all alike to me; but one pursued as I am is
safer in a large place than a small one."

"I am inclined to think that this man, Thorn, only made a show of
threatening you, Richard. If he be really the guilty party, his policy
must be to keep all in quietness. The very worst thing that could happen
for him, would be your arrest."

"Then why molest me? Why send an officer to dodge me?"

"He did not like your molesting him, and he thought he would probably
frighten you. After that day you would probably have seen no more of
the officer. You may depend upon one thing, Richard, had the policeman's
object been to take you, he would have done so, not have contented
himself with following you about from place to place. Besides when a
detective officer is employed to watch a party, he takes care not to
allow himself to be seen; now this man showed himself to you more than
once."

"Yes, there's a good deal in all that," observed Richard. "For, to
one in his class of life, the bare suspicion of such a crime, brought
against him, would crush him forever in the eyes of his compeers."

"It is difficult to me Richard, to believe that he is in the class of
life you speak of," observed Mr. Carlyle.

"There's no doubt about it; there's none indeed. But that I did not
much like to mention the name, for it can't be a pleasant name to you, I
should have said last night who I have seen him walking with," continued
simple-hearted Richard.

Mr. Carlyle looked inquiringly. "Richard say on."

"I have seen him, sir, with Sir Francis Levison, twice. Once he was
talking to him at the door of the betting-rooms, and once they were
walking arm-in-arm. They are apparently upon intimate terms."

At this moment a loud, flustering, angry voice was heard calling from
the stairs, and Richard leaped up as if he had been shot. His door--not
the one leading to the room of Miss Carlyle--opened upon the corridor,
and the voice sounded close, just as if its owner were