document is merely a copy of one
already signed by Mr. Cashel, but which I have mislaid, and I am so
ashamed of my negligence I cannot bring myself to confess it."

This tame explanation Linton was unable to finish without faltering, for
the Italian's keen and piercing dark eyes seemed to penetrate into him
as he was speaking.

"With this I have nothing to do," said he, abruptly. "It is quite clear,
however, that Giovanni Santini is not Roland Cashel; nor, if there be a
penalty on what I have done, am I so certain that he whose name I shall
have forged will undergo it in my place."

"You talk of forgery and penalties as if we were about to commit a
felony," said Linton, laughing. "Pray give me the cream. There is really
no such peril in the case, and if there were, it would be all mine."

"I know nothing of your laws here--I desire to know nothing of
them," said the Italian, haughtily; "but if it should be my lot to be
arraigned, let it be for something more worthy of manhood. I 'll sign
the paper, but I shall leave the country at once."

No words could have been more grateful to Linton's ears than these; he
was, even at that very moment, considering in his own mind in what way
to disembarrass himself of his "friend" when this service should have
been effected.

"As you please, Giovanni," said be, gravely. "I regret to part company
so soon with one whose frankness so well accords with my own humor."

The Italian's lips parted slightly, and a smile of cold and dubious
meaning flitted across his dark features.

"We part here, then," said he, rising from the table. "There is a
vessel leaves this for Bristol at noon to-day; it is already past eleven
o'clock."

"I'll not delay," said Linton, rising and ringing the bell; "send
Mr. Swindon here," said he to the waiter, while he opened a parchment
document upon the table, and after hastily glancing over it, folded
it carefully again, leaving uppermost the margin, where certain
pencil-marks indicated the places of signature. "This is yours,
Giovanni," said he, placing a weighty purse in the Italian's hand, who
took it with all the easy indifference of one whose feelings of shame
were not too acute. "Remember what I have--"

There was no time to finish, for already a light tap was-heard at the
door, and the landlord, followed by the head waiter, entered.

"We were pressed for time, Swindon," said Linton, as he examined the
pens, which, like all hotel ones, seemed inv