Hankes, it was that frame of thought which indicated the
possession of some mysterious subject,--some deep and secret theme which
the possessor retained for himself alone,--a measure of which none were
to know the amount, to which none were to have the key. It would be
ignoble to call this passion curiosity, for, in reality, it was less
exercised by any desire to fathom the mystery than it was prompted by an
intense jealousy of him who thus held in his own hands the solution of
some portentous difficulty. To know on what schemes other men were bent,
what hopes and fears filled them, by what subtle trains of reasoning
they came to this conclusion or to that, were the daily exercises of
his intelligence. He was eternally, as the phrase is, putting things
together, comparing events, confronting this circumstance with that, and
drawing inferences from every chance and accident of life. Now, it was
clear to him Miss Kellett had a secret; or, at least, had the clew
to one. Driscoll was "in it," and this cottage was "in it," and, not
impossibly too, some of these Conway s were "in it." There was something
in that note-book; how was he to obtain sight of it? The vaguest
line---a word--would be enough for him. Mr. Hankes remembered how he
had once committed himself and his health to the care of an unskilful
physician simply because the man knew a fact which he wanted, and
did worm out of him during his attendance. He had, at another time,
undertaken a short voyage in a most unsafe craft, with a drunken
captain, because the stewardess was possessed of a secret of which, even
in his sea-sickness, he obtained the key. Over and over again had he
assumed modes of life he detested, dissipation the most distasteful to
him, to gain the confidence of men that were only assailable in these
modes; and now he bethought him that if he only had a glimmering of his
present suspicion, the precipice and the narrow path and the booming sea
below had all been braved, and he would have followed her unflinchingly
through every peril with this goal before him. Was it too late to
reinstate himself in her esteem? He thought not; indeed, she did not
seem to retain any memory of his defection. At all events, there was
little semblance of it having influenced her in her manner towards him.

"We shall meet at Glengariff, Mr. Hankes," said Sybella, rising, and
replacing the papers in the box. "I mean to return by the coast road,
and will not ask you to accom