orrible sight. O! a horrible, horrible sight!'

'Who did you think it might have been?' asked Mr Inspector. 'Give us a
description, sir. Perhaps we can help you.'

'No, no,' said the stranger; 'it would be quite useless. Good-night.'

Mr Inspector had not moved, and had given no order; but, the satellite
slipped his back against the wicket, and laid his left arm along the top
of it, and with his right hand turned the bull's-eye he had taken from
his chief--in quite a casual manner--towards the stranger.

'You missed a friend, you know; or you missed a foe, you know; or you
wouldn't have come here, you know. Well, then; ain't it reasonable to
ask, who was it?' Thus, Mr Inspector.

'You must excuse my telling you. No class of man can understand better
than you, that families may not choose to publish their disagreements
and misfortunes, except on the last necessity. I do not dispute that you
discharge your duty in asking me the question; you will not dispute my
right to withhold the answer. Good-night.'

Again he turned towards the wicket, where the satellite, with his eye
upon his chief, remained a dumb statue.

'At least,' said Mr Inspector, 'you will not object to leave me your
card, sir?'

'I should not object, if I had one; but I have not.' He reddened and was
much confused as he gave the answer.

'At least,' said Mr Inspector, with no change of voice or manner, 'you
will not object to write down your name and address?'

'Not at all.'

Mr Inspector dipped a pen in his inkstand, and deftly laid it on a
piece of paper close beside him; then resumed his former attitude.
The stranger stepped up to the desk, and wrote in a rather tremulous
hand--Mr Inspector taking sidelong note of every hair of his head when
it was bent down for the purpose--'Mr Julius Handford, Exchequer Coffee
House, Palace Yard, Westminster.'

'Staying there, I presume, sir?'

'Staying there.'

'Consequently, from the country?'

'Eh? Yes--from the country.'

'Good-night, sir.'

The satellite removed his arm and opened the wicket, and Mr Julius
Handford went out.

'Reserve!' said Mr Inspector. 'Take care of this piece of paper, keep
him in view without giving offence, ascertain that he IS staying there,
and find out anything you can about him.'

The satellite was gone; and Mr Inspector, becoming once again the quiet
Abbot of that Monastery, dipped his pen in his ink and resumed
his books. The two friends who had watched him, mo