urely by degrees be
cajoled or bullied into silence. If he did accuse Hugo of treachery, it
was better, perhaps, that the accused should be on the spot to justify
himself. If only Hugo could see him before the story had been told to
Mrs. Luttrell!

He loitered about the house for some time, then went to his own room,
and began to pack up various articles which he should wish to take away
with him, if Mrs. Luttrell expelled him from the house. At every sound
upon the stairs, he paused in his occupation and looked around
nervously. When the luncheon-bell rang he actually dared not go down to
the dining-room. He summoned a servant, and ordered brandy and water and
a biscuit, alleging I an attack of illness as an excuse for his
non-appearance. And, indeed, the suspense and anxiety which he was
enduring made him feel and look really ill. He was sick with the agony
of his dread.

The afternoon wore on. His window commanded a view of the drive: he was
sure that the guests had not yet left the house. It was four o'clock
when somebody at length approached his door, knocked, and then shook the
door-handle.

"Hugo! Are you there?" It was Mr. Colquhoun's voice. "Can't you open the
door?"

Hugo hesitated a moment: then turned the key, leaving Mr. Colquhoun to
enter if he pleased. He came in looking rather astonished at this mode
of admittance.

"So! It's sick, you are, is it? Well, I don't exactly wonder at that.
You've lost your chance of Netherglen, Mr. Hugo Luttrell."

Hugo's face grew livid. He looked to Mr. Colquhoun for explanation, but
did not speak.

"It's just the most remarkable coincidence I ever heard of," said Mr.
Colquhoun, seating himself in the least comfortable chair the room
afforded, and rubbing his forehead with a great, red silk-handkerchief.
"Brian alive, and meeting with the very man who had a claim to the
estate! Though, of course, if one thinks of it, it is only natural they
should meet, when Mrs. Luttrell, poor body, had been fool enough to send
Brian to San Stefano, the very place where the child was brought up. You
know the story?"

"No," said Hugo. His heart began to beat wildly. Had Dino kept silence
after all?

Mr. Colquhoun launched forth upon the whole history, to which Hugo
listened without a word of comment. He was leaning against the
window-frame, in a position from which he could still see the drive, and
his face was so white that Mr. Colquhoun at last was struck by its
pallor.

"