d sagacious inquirer. Within the last few months Mr. Van
Boozenberg had grown quite friendly with him. When they met, the
President had sought to establish the most familiar intercourse. But he
discovered that for the slightest hint of the condition of the Newt
business he might as well have asked Boniface himself. Like a mother, who
knows the crime her son has committed, and perceives that he can only a
little longer hide it, but who, with her heart breaking, still smiles
away suspicion, so the faithful accountant, who supposed that the crash
was at hand, was as constant and calm as if the business were never
before so prosperous.

CHAPTER LIII.

SLIGO MOULTRIE _vice_ ABEL NEWT.

Abel Newt had now had two distinct warnings of something which nobody
knew must happen so well as he. He dined sumptuously that very day, and
dressed very carefully that evening, and at eight o'clock was sitting
alone with Grace Plumer. The superb ruby was on her finger. But on the
third finger of her left hand he saw a large glowing opal. His eyes
fastened upon it with a more brilliant glitter. They looked at her too
so strangely that Grace Plumer felt troubled and half alarmed. "Am I too
late?" he thought.

"Miss Grace," said Abel, in a low voice.

The tone was significant.

"Mr. Newt," said she, with a half smile, as if she accepted a contest of
badinage.

"Do you remember I said I was perfectly happy?"

He moved his chair a little nearer to hers. She drew back almost
imperceptibly.

"I remember you _said_ so, and I was very glad to hear it."

"Do you remember my theory of perfect happiness?"

"Yes," said Miss Plumer, calmly, "I believe it was perfect love. But I
think we had better talk of something else;" and she rose from her chair
and stood by the table.

"Miss Plumer!"

"Mr. Newt."

"It was you who first emboldened me."

"I do not understand, Sir."

"It was a long time ago, in my mother's conservatory."

Grace Plumer remembered the evening, and she replied, more softly,

"I am very sorry, Mr. Newt, that I behaved so foolishly: I was young. But
I think we did each other no harm."

"No harm, I trust, indeed, Miss Grace," said Abel. "It is surely no harm
to love; at least, not as I love you."

He too had risen, and tried to take her hand. She stepped back. He
pressed toward her.

"Grace; dear Grace!"

"Stop, Sir, stop!" said his companion, drawing herself up and waving him
back; "I can not hear you t