and ringing
the bell. The servant entered.

"Is my carriage here?"

"Yes, Baron."

"Can I set you down any where?"

"No, thank you; I prefer walking."

"Adieu, then. And mind you remember the _soiree dansante_ at Mrs.
Avenel's." Randal mechanically shook the hand extended to him, and went
down the stairs.

The fresh frosty air roused his intellectual faculties, which Levy's
ominous words had almost paralyzed.

And the first thing that the clever schemer said to himself was this:

"But what can be the man's motive in what he said to me?"

The next was:

"Egerton ruined? What am I, then?"

And the third was:

"And that fair remnant of the old Leslie property! L20,000 down--how to get
the sum? Why should Levy have spoken to me of this?"

And lastly, the soliloquy rounded back:--"The man's motives! His motives?"

Meanwhile, the Baron threw himself into his chariot--the most comfortable
easy chariot you can possibly conceive--single man's chariot--perfect
taste--no married man ever has such a chariot; and in a few minutes he was
at ----'s hotel, and in the presence of Giulio Franzini, Count di Peschiera.

"_Mon cher_," said the Baron in very good French, and in a tone of the
most familiar equality with the descendant of the princes and heroes of
grand mediaeval Italy--"_Mon cher_, give me one of your excellent cigars. I
think I have put all matters in train."

"You have found out--"

"No; not so fast yet," said the Baron, lighting the cigar extended to him.
"But you said that you should be perfectly contented if it only cost you
L20,000 to marry off your sister (to whom that sum is legally due), and to
marry yourself to the heiress."

"I did, indeed."

"Then I have no doubt I shall manage both objects for that sum, if Randal
Leslie really knows where the young lady is, and can assist you. Most
promising, able man is Randal Leslie--but innocent as a babe just born."

"Ha, ha! Innocent? _Que diable!_"

"Innocent as this cigar, _mon cher_--strong, certainly, but smoked very
easily. _Soyez tranquille!_"

Chapter XV.

Who has not seen--who not admired, that noble picture by Daniel Maclise,
which refreshes the immortal name of my ancestor Caxton! For myself, while
with national pride I heard the admiring murmurs of the foreigners who
grouped around it (nothing, indeed, of which our nation may be more proud
had they seen in the Crystal Palace)--heard with no less a pride in the
generous natur