s some women."

The lawyer pointed with a persuasive smile to her empty chair. "If
you allow yourself to be excited," he said, "you will frighten me.
Please--oh, please sit down again!"

Mrs. Linley felt the strong will, asserting itself in terms of courteous
entreaty. She obeyed. Mrs. Presty had never admired the lawyer as she
admired him now. "Is that how you manage your wife?" she asked.

Mr. Sarrazin was equal to the occasion, whatever it might be. "In your
time, ma'am," he said, "did you reveal the mysteries of conjugal life?"
He turned to Mrs. Linley. "I have something to ask first," he resumed,
"and then you shall hear what I propose. How many people serve you in
this cottage?"

"Three. Our landlady, who is housekeeper and cook. Our own maid. And the
landlady's daughter, who does the housework."

"Any out-of-door servants?"

"Only the gardener."

"Can you trust these people?"

"In what way, Mr. Sarrazin?"

"Can you trust them with a secret which only concerns yourself?"

"Certainly! The maid has been with us for years; no truer woman ever
lived. The good old landlady often drinks tea with us. Her daughter
is going to be married; and I have given the wedding-dress. As for the
gardener, let Kitty settle the matter with him, and I answer for the
rest. Why are you pointing to the window?"

"Look out, and tell me what you see."

"I see the fog."

"And I, Mrs. Linley, have seen the boathouse. While the spies are
watching your gate, what do you say to crossing the lake, under cover of
the fog?"

FOURTH BOOK.

Chapter XXVIII. Mr. Randal Linley.

Winter had come and gone; spring was nearing its end, and London still
suffered under the rigid regularity of easterly winds. Although in less
than a week summer would begin with the first of June, Mr. Sarrazin was
glad to find his office warmed by a fire, when he arrived to open the
letters of the day.

The correspondence in general related exclusively to proceedings
connected with the law. Two letters only presented an exception to the
general rule. The first was addressed in Mrs. Linley's handwriting, and
bore the postmark of Hanover. Kitty's mother had not only succeeded in
getting to the safe side of the lake--she and her child had crossed
the German Ocean as well. In one respect her letter was a remarkable
composition. Although it was written by a lady, it was short enough to
be read in less than a minute:

"MY DEAR MR. SARRAZIN--I hav