say that, had I ever
been engaged to my cousin, I should have been miserable at such a moment
as this. I never should have given him up because of the gross injustice
done to him about the property. But his disappearance in this dreadful
way would, I think, have killed me. As it is, I can think of nothing
else, because he is my cousin."

"It is very dreadful," said Harry. "Have you any idea what can have
happened to him?"

"Not in the least. Have you?"

"None at all, but--"

"But what?"

"I was the last person who saw him."

"You saw him last!"

"At least, I know no one who saw him after me."

"Have you told them?"

"I have told no one but you. I have come down here to Cheltenham on
purpose to tell you."

"Why me?" she said, as though struck with fear at such an assertion on
his part.

"I must tell some one, and I have not known whom else to tell. His
father appears not at all anxious about him. His brother I do not
altogether trust. Were I to go to these men, who are only looking after
their money, I should be communicating with his enemies. Your mother
already regards me as his enemy. If I told the police I should simply be
brought into a court of justice, where I should be compelled to mention
your name."

"Why mine?"

"I must begin the story from the beginning. One night I was coming home
in London very late, about two o'clock, when whom should I meet in the
street suddenly but Mountjoy Scarborough. It came out afterward that he
had then been gambling; but when he encountered me he was intoxicated.
He took me suddenly by the collar and shook me violently, and did his
best to maltreat me. What words were spoken I cannot remember; but his
conduct to me was as that of a savage beast. I struggled with him in the
street as a man would struggle who is attacked by a wild dog. I think
that he did not explain the cause of his hatred, though, of course, my
memory as to what took place at that moment is disturbed and imperfect;
but I did know in my heart why it was that he had quarrelled with me."

"Why was it?" Florence asked.

"Because he thought that I had ventured to love you."

"No, no!" shrieked Florence; "he could not have thought that."

"He did think so, and he was right enough. If I have never said so
before, I am bound at any rate to say it now." He paused for a moment,
but she made him no answer. "In the struggle between us he fell on the
pavement against a rail;--and then I left him."

"W