t them.'

'Pardon me, sir,' replied Alan Fairford; 'I do not aspire to the honour
of being reputed their confidant or go-between. My concern with those
gentlemen is limited to one matter of business, dearly interesting to
me, because it concerns the safety--perhaps the life--of my dearest
friend.'

'Would you have any objection to entrust me with the cause of your
journey?' said Father Buonaventure. 'My advice may be of service to you,
and my influence with one or both these gentlemen is considerable.'

Fairford hesitated a moment, and, hastily revolving all circumstances,
concluded that he might perhaps receive some advantage from propitiating
this personage; while, on the other hand, he endangered nothing by
communicating to him the occasion of his journey. He, therefore, after
stating shortly that he hoped Mr. Buonaventure would render him the same
confidence which he required on his part, gave a short account of Darsie
Latimer--of the mystery which hung over his family--and of the disaster
which had befallen him. Finally, of his own resolution to seek for his
friend, and to deliver him, at the peril of his own life.

The Catholic priest, whose manner it seemed to be to avoid all
conversation which did not arise from his own express motion, made
no remarks upon what he had heard, but only asked one or two abrupt
questions, where Alan's narrative appeared less clear to him; then
rising from his seat, he took two turns through the apartment, muttering
between his teeth, with emphasis, the word 'madman!' But apparently he
was in the habit of keeping all violent emotions under restraint; for he
presently addressed Fairford with the most perfect indifference.

'If,' said he, 'you thought you could do so without breach of
confidence, I wish you would have the goodness to show me the letter
of Mr. Maxwell of Summertrees. I desire to look particularly at the
address.'

Seeing no cause to decline this extension of his confidence, Alan,
without hesitation, put the letter into his hand. Having turned it
round as old Trumbull and Nanty Ewart had formerly done, and, like them,
having examined the address with much minuteness, he asked whether he
had observed these words, pointing to a pencil-writing upon the under
side of the letter. Fairford answered in the negative, and, looking
at the letter, read with surprise, 'CAVE NE LITERAS BELLEROPHONTIS
ADFERRES'; a caution which coincided so exactly with the provost's
admonition