tell him your name?"

She hesitated.

"No, don't tell him that," she said. "Do you remember a few lines of
poetry of his at the end of his last volume of criticisms? There is a
little clump of firs on the top of a bare wind-swept hill, with the moon
shining faintly through a veil of mist, and a man and woman standing
together like carved figures against the sky, listening to the far-off
murmur of the sea."

"Yes, I remember it," he said slowly.

"Then will you tell him that some one--some one who has seen such a
place as he describes, is----?"

"I will tell him," Mr. Carlyon answered. "I think that he will come
now."

He left her again, and went back towards Mr. Maddison. Just as he got
within speaking distance he saw a slight quiver pass across the white
face, as though he had recognized some one in the crowd. Mr. Carlyon
hesitated, and decided to wait for a moment.

They were standing face to face, Sir Allan Beaumerville, the
distinguished baronet, who had added to the dignity of an ancient family
and vast wealth, a great reputation as a savant and a _dilettante_
physician, and Mr. Bernard Maddison, whose name alone was sufficient to
bespeak his greatness. In Sir Allan's quiet, courteous look, there was a
slightly puzzled air as though there were something in the other's face
which he only half remembered. In Mr. Maddison's fixed gaze there was a
far greater intensity--something even of anxiety.

"Surely we have met before, Mr. Maddison," the baronet said easily.
"Your face seems quite familiar to me. Ah! I remember now, it was near
that place of Lord Lathon's, Mallory Grange, upon the coast. A terrible
affair, that."

"Yes, a terrible affair," Mr. Maddison repeated.

"And have you just come from ----shire?" Sir Allan asked.

"No; I have been abroad for several months," Mr. Maddison answered.

"Abroad!" Sir Allan appeared a little more interested. "In what part?"
he asked civilly.

"I have been in Spain, and the south of France, across the Hartz
mountains, and through the Black Forest."

"Not in Italy?" Sir Allan inquired.

There was a short silence, and Sir Allan seemed really anxious for the
reply. It came at last.

"No; not in Italy."

Sir Allan seemed positively pleased to think that Mr. Maddison had not
extended his travels to Italy. There was a quiet gleam in his eyes which
seemed almost like relief. Doubtless he had his reasons, but they were
a little obscure.

"Ah! Shall you call upon