day had his generalship been successful,
and his success disposed him to think rather meanly of his
fellow-creatures' intellects. It was surely very easy, and decidedly
pleasant, to outwit one's neighbours! He had made both Brian and Mr.
Colquhoun give him information which they would have certainly withheld
had they known the object for which it had been asked. He was proud of
his own dexterity.

On his arrival at Netherglen he found that Mrs. Luttrell and Angela had
gone for a drive. He was glad of it. He wanted a little time to himself
in Brian's old room. He had already noticed that an old-fashioned
davenport which stood in this room had never been emptied of its
contents, and in this davenport he found two or three papers which were
of service to him. He took them away to his bed-room, where he practised
a certain kind of handwriting for two or three hours with tolerable
success. He tried it again after dinner, when everybody was in bed, and
he tried it again next day. It was rather a difficult hand to imitate
well, but he was not easily discouraged.

"I am afraid, dear aunt, that I must run up to town for a day or two,"
he said to Mrs. Luttrell that evening, with engaging frankness. "I have
business to transact. But I will be back in three or four days at most,
if you will permit me."

"Do as you please, Hugo," said Mrs. Luttrell, in her stoniest manner. "I
have no wish to impose any kind of trammels upon you."

"Dear Aunt Margaret, the only trammels that you impose are those of
love!" said Hugo, in his silkiest undertone.

Angela looked up. For the moment she was puzzled. To her, Hugo's speech
sounded insincere. But the glance of the eye that she encountered was so
caressing, the curves of his mouth were so sweetly infantine, that she
accused herself of harsh judgment, and remembered Hugo's foreign blood
and Continental training, which had given him the habit, she supposed,
of saying "pretty things." She could not doubt his sincerity when she
looked at the peach-like bloom of that oval face, the impenetrable
softness of those velvet eyes. Hugo's physical beauty always stood him
in good stead.

"You are an affectionate, warm-hearted boy, I believe, Hugo," said Mrs.
Luttrell. Then, after a short pause, she added, with no visible link of
connection, "I have written instructions to Colquhoun. I expect him here
to-morrow."

Hugo looked innocent and attentive, but made no comment. His aunt kissed
him with more