closeted with the general for fully twenty minutes. They parted in a
very friendly way, but he did not see the ladies. The general, however,
no sooner bid him farewell at the door-steps than he made his way to the
drawing-room, and, big with his amazing secret, first, in a very grave
and almost agitated way, told little 'Toodie,' as he called his
daughter, to run away and leave him together with Aunt Rebecca, which
being done, he anticipated that lady's imperious summons to explain
himself by telling her, in his blunt, soldierly fashion, the wondrous
story.

Aunt Becky was utterly confounded. She had seldom before in her life
been so thoroughly taken in. What a marvellous turn of fortune! What a
providential deliverance and vindication for that poor young Lord
Dunoran! What an astounding exposure of that miscreant Mr. Dangerfield!

'What a blessed escape the child has had!' interposed the general with a
rather testy burst of gratitude.

'And how artfully she and my lord contrived to conceal their
engagement!' pursued Aunt Rebecca, covering her somewhat confused
retreat.

But, somehow, Aunt Rebecca was by no means angry. On the contrary,
anyone who knew her well would have perceived that a great weight was
taken off her mind.

The consequences of Dangerfield's incarceration upon these awful
charges, were not confined altogether to the Tiled House and the
inhabitants of Belmont.

No sooner was our friend Cluffe well assured that Dangerfield was in
custody of the gaoler, and that his old theory of a certain double plot
carried on by that intriguing personage, with the object of possessing
the hand and thousands of Aunt Rebecca, was now and for ever untenable,
than he wrote to London forthwith to countermand the pelican. The
answer, which in those days was rather long about coming, was not
pleasant, being simply a refusal to rescind the contract.

Cluffe, in a frenzy, carried this piece of mercantile insolence off to
his lawyer. The stout captain was, however, undoubtedly liable, and,
with a heavy heart, he wrote to beg they would, with all despatch, sell
the bird in London on his account, and charge him with the difference.
'The scoundrels!--they'll buy him themselves at half-price, and charge
me a per centage besides; but what the plague better can I do?

In due course, however, came an answer, informing Captain Cluffe that
his letter had arrived too late, as the bird, pursuant to the tenor of
his order, had bee