a dead bargain, after all."

D'Esmonde bit his lip to repress some movement of impatience, and after
a pause said,----

"This matter does not admit of delay. Circumstances will soon require my
presence in England, and with a strong sum at my command; besides--"

"If I understand you aright," said Jekyl, "You are to conduct the whole
negotiations to a successful end, and that I shall have neither a bill
to endorse, nor a duel to fight, throughout the affair."

"You shall be scathless."

"There is another point," said Jekyl, quickly. "How shall I figure in
the newspapers,--Albert Jekyl, Esquire, of where? Have you thought of
that? I wish I had even an uncle a baronet."

"Pooh, pooh!" said D'Esmonde, impatiently. "You marry into the peerage;
that's quite enough."

"Perhaps you 're right," said Jekyl. "All that enumeration of
family connection----'niece to the Chief Justice of Rembouk,' or
'cousin-german to the Vice-Consul at Gumdalloo'--smacks terribly of
'Moses and Son.'"

"We are agreed, then," said the Abbe, rising.

"I swear," said Jekyl, rising, and throwing out his hand in the attitude
of the well-known picture of the "Marshals." "The step that I am about
to take will throw its gloom over many a dinner-party, and bring sadness
into many a _salon_; but I 'll retire at least with dignity, and, like
Napoleon, I'll write my memoirs."

"So far, then, so good," said D'Esmonde; "now, with your leave, I
throw myself on this sofa and snatch an hour's sleep." And ere Jekyl
had arranged the folds of what he called his "sable pelisse" as a
covering, the Abbe was in deep slumber.

CHAPTER XXV. PRIESTCRAFT.

With less than two hours of sleep, D'Esmonde arose refreshed and ready
for the day. Jekyl was not awake as the priest quitted his quarters,
and, repairing to his own lodgings, dressed himself with more than
usual care. Without any of the foppery of the Abbe, there was a studied
elegance in every detail of his costume, and as he stepped into the
carriage which awaited him, many turned their looks of admiration at the
handsome priest.

"To the Crocetto," said he, and away they went.

It was already so early that few persons were about as they drove into
the court of the palace, and drew up at a private door. Here D'Esmonde
got out and ascended the stairs.

"Ah, Monsignore!" said a young man, somewhat smartly Attired in a
dressing-gown and velvet cap. "He did not return here last night."

"Indeed!" said