l had so seldom seen, but who
had always controlled his affairs and provided so liberally for all
his wants. Upon coming of age, a few months before, Peveril had sent
over a power of attorney, and his ex-guardian had continued to act for
him as before. They were to have had a settlement when the young man
took his degree, for which purpose he had planned to run over to New
York, spend a few days there, and return in time for his Norway trip
with the Bonnifays. In the autumn he and they would sail for New York
together, and the wedding would take place as soon thereafter as was
practicable.

Now this wretched cablegram promised to upset everything, and he must
look forward to spending the summer in trying to disentangle an
involved business, instead of spending it with the girl of his heart.
Perhaps, though, "badly involved" did not mean so _very_ badly, and
possibly he might get through with the hated business in time for the
Norway trip after all, if he only set to work at once. Of course that
would necessitate the giving up of his degree, but what difference did
that make? Other things were of infinitely more importance.

So Peveril bade farewell to Oxford, wrote a long letter, full of love
and hopeful promises, to Rose Bonnifay, at Rome, sent her a reassuring
telegram from Southampton, and sailed for New York. Having been so
long absent, he found very few friends in that city, and it seemed to
him that some even of those few greeted him with a constraint
bordering on coldness.

As Boise Carson, who had lived and died a bachelor, had roomed at the
Waldorf, Peveril also established himself in that palatial
caravansary, and was then ready to plunge into the business that had
brought him to America.

His first shock came from the lawyer who had summoned him, and who at
once told him that he feared everything was lost.

"I don't exactly understand what you mean," said Peveril.

"In plain terms, then, I am afraid that your late guardian not only
squandered his own fortune in unwise speculation, but yours as well.
Perhaps this note, left for you, will explain the situation."

Thus saying, the lawyer handed Peveril a sealed envelope addressed to
him in the well-known handwriting of Boise Carson. Tearing it open,
the young man read as follows:

"MY DEAR RICHARD:

"Having lost everything, including your fortune and my own
honor, I have no longer an object in living. I therefore
conclude that it