have got your information I cannot tell. But that mine has
been accurately told to me I feel certain."

"At any rate, my duty is to look after you and to keep you from harm. I
can only do my duty to the best of my ability. Mr. Annesley is, to my
thinking, a most objectionable young man, and he will, I believe, be in
the hands of the police before long. Evidence will have to be given, in
which your name will, unfortunately, be mentioned."

"Why my name?"

"It is not probable that he will keep it a secret, when
cross-questioned, as to his having divulged the story to some one. He
will declare that he has told it to you. When that time shall come it
will be well that we should be out of the country. I propose to start
from here on this day week."

"Uncle Magnus will not be able to have us then."

"We must loiter away our time on the road. I look upon it as quite
imperative that we shall both be out of England within eight days' time
of this."

"But where will you go?"

"Never mind. I do not know that I have as yet quite made up my mind. But
you may understand that we shall start from Cheltenham this day week.
Baker will go with us, and I shall leave the other two servants in
charge of the house. I cannot tell you anything farther as yet,--except
that I will never consent to your marriage with Mr. Henry Annesley. You
had better know that for certain, and then there will be less cause for
unhappiness between us." So saying, the angry ghost with the night-cap
on stalked out of the room.

It need hardly be explained that Mrs. Mountjoy's information respecting
the scene in London had come to her from Augustus Scarborough. When he
told her that Annesley had been the last in London to see his brother
Mountjoy, and had described the nature of the scene that had occurred
between them, he had no doubt forgotten that he himself had subsequently
seen his brother. In the story, as he had told it, there was no need to
mention himself,--no necessity for such a character in making up the
tragedy of that night. No doubt, according to his idea, the two had been
alone together. Harry had struck the blow by which his brother had been
injured, and had then left him in the street. Mountjoy had subsequently
disappeared, and Harry had told to no one that such an encounter had
taken place. This had been the meaning of Augustus Scarborough when he
informed his aunt that Harry had been the last who had seen Mountjoy
before his disappearanc