, the Devil having once made his entrance soon found himself
comfortably at home. Of meditating Lord Hampstead's murder he
declared to himself that he had no idea. His conscience was quite
clear to him in that respect. What was it to him who might inherit
the title and the property of the Traffords? He was simply discussing
with a silly woman a circumstance which no words of theirs could do
aught either to cause or to prevent. It soon seemed to him to be
natural that she should wish it, and natural also that he should
seem to sympathize with her who was his best friend. The Marquis,
he was sure, was gradually dropping him. Where was he to look for
maintenance, but to his own remaining friend? The Marquis would
probably give him something were he dismissed;--but that something
would go but a short way towards supporting him comfortably for the
rest of his life. There was a certain living in the gift of the
Marquis, the Rectory of Appleslocombe in Somersetshire, which would
exactly suit Mr. Greenwood's needs. The incumbent was a very old man,
now known to be bed-ridden. It was L800 a year. There would be ample
for himself and for a curate. Mr. Greenwood had spoken to the Marquis
on the subject;--but had been told, with some expression of civil
regret, that he was considered to be too old for new duties. The
Marchioness had talked to him frequently of Appleslocombe;--but what
was the use of that? If the Marquis himself were to die, and then
the Rector, there would be a chance for him,--on condition that Lord
Hampstead were also out of the way. But Mr. Greenwood, as he thought
of it, shook his head at the barren prospect. His sympathies no doubt
were on the side of the lady. The Marquis was treating him ill. Lord
Hampstead was a disgrace to his order. Lady Frances was worse even
than her brother. It would be a good thing that Lord Frederic should
be the heir. But all this had nothing to do with murder,--or even
with meditation of murder. If the Lord should choose to take the
young man it would be well; that was all.

On the same afternoon, an hour or two after he had made his promise
to the Marquis, Lady Kingsbury sent for him. She always did send for
him to drink tea with her at five o'clock. It was so regular that the
servant would simply announce that tea was ready in her ladyship's
room up-stairs. "Have you seen his lordship to-day?" she asked.

"Yes;--I have seen him."

"Since he told you in that rude way to leave t