his sad history, Paradine
was silent for some time. It was some relief to know that the darkest
secrets of his life had not been ferreted out by a phenomenally sharp
nephew; but the change in the situation was not without its
drawbacks--it remained to be seen how it might affect himself. He
already saw his reign in Westbourne Terrace threatened with a speedy
determination unless he played his cards well.

"Well," he said at last, with a swift, keen glance at Paul, who sat
anxiously waiting for his next words; "suppose I were to say that I
think there may be something in this story of yours, what then? What is
it you want me to do for you?"

"Why," said Paul, "with all you owe to me, now you know the horrible
injustice I have had to bear, you surely don't mean to say that you
won't help me to right myself?"

"And if I did help you, what then?"

"Why, I should be able to recover all I have lost, of course," said Mr.
Bultitude. He thought his brother-in-law had grown very dull.

"Ah, but I mean, what's to become of _me_?"

"You?" repeated Paul (he had not thought of that). "Well, hum, from what
I know and what you know that I know about your past life, you can't
expect me to encourage you to remain here?"

"No," said Uncle Marmaduke. "Of course not; very right and proper."

"But," said Paul, willing to make all reasonable concessions, "anything
I can do to advance your prospects--such as paying your passage out to
New York, you know, and so on--I should be very ready to do."

"Thank you!" said the other.

"And even, if necessary, provide you with a small fund to start afresh
upon--honestly," said Paul; "you will not find me difficult to deal
with."

"It's a dazzling proposition," remarked Paradine drily. "You have such
an alluring way of putting things. But the fact, is, you'll hardly
believe it, but I'm remarkably well off here. I am indeed. Your son, you
know, though not you (except as a mere matter of form), really makes, as
they say of the marmalade in the advertisements, an admirable
substitute. I doubt, I do assure you, whether you yourself would have
received me with quite the same warmth and hospitality I have met with
from him."

"So do I," said Paul; "very much."

"Just so; for, without your admirable business capacity and
extraordinary firmness of character, you know, he has, if you'll excuse
my saying so, a more open guileless nature, a more entire and touching
faith in his fellow-man and brot