about to
swoon under an operation.

'Trifle! What d'ye mean, Sir?' barked out Dangerfield, rabidly.

'I mean, Sir, _this_--I've information he's positively living, and can
relieve my father's memory from the horrible imputation that rests upon
it. You know who I am!'

'Ay, Sir, Lord Castlemallard told me.'

'And my life I cheerfully devote to the task of seizing and tracing out
the bloody clue of the labyrinth in which I'm lost.'

'Good--'tis a pious as well as a prudent resolve,' said Dangerfield,
with a quiet sneer. 'And now, Sir, give me leave to say a word. Your
information that Charles Archer is living, is not worth the breath of
the madman that spoke it, as I'll presently show you. By an odd chance,
Sir, I required this file of newspapers, last week, to help me in
ascertaining the date of Sir Harry Wyatt's marriage. Well, only last
night, what should I hit on but this. Will you please to read?'

He had turned over the pages rapidly, and then he stopped at this little
piece of news packed up in a small paragraph at the bottom of a column,
and, pointing his finger to it, he slid the volume of newspapers over to
Mervyn, who read--

'Died on the 4th of August, of a lingering disease, at his lodgings in
Florence, whither he had gone for the improvement of his health, Charles
Archer, Esq., a gentleman who some three years since gave an exceeding
clear evidence against Lord Dunoran, for the murder of Mr. Beauclerc,
and was well known at Newmarket. His funeral, which was private, was
attended by several English gentlemen, who were then at Florence.'

Mervyn, deadly pale, with gleaming eyes, and hand laid along his
forehead, as if to screen off an insupportable light and concentrate his
gaze upon the words, read and re-read these sentences with an agony of
scrutiny such as no critic ever yet directed upon a disputed passage in
his favourite classic. But there was no possibility of fastening any
consolatory interpretation upon the paragraph. It was all too plain and
outspoken.

''Tis possible this may be true--_thus_ much. _A_ Charles Archer is
dead, and yet another Charles Archer, the object of my search, still
living,' said Mervyn.

'Hey! that didn't strike me,' said Dangerfield, as much amused as was
consistent with moderately good breeding. 'But I can quite account, Mr.
Mervyn,' he continued, with a sudden change of tone and manner, to
something almost of kindness, 'for your readiness to entertain any
theor