don't think--I really don't think there is any cause for
uneasiness, Benson. Your master will let us know if there's anything
wrong with him."

"Oh, yes, sir, he'll be sure to do that. He said he would telegraph for
me if he wanted me."

"Good! Now, if you get any news of him before I do, or if you are
anxious that I should attend to any special matter, you'll always find
me here till one o'clock. You know my private address?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's all right. And when I go down to my country place for the
summer, you can come there whenever your business is urgent. I'll settle
all expenses with you."

"Thank you, Sir Francis. Good-day!"

"Good-day! A pleasant holiday to you!"

Benson bowed his respectful thanks again, and retired.

Sir Francis Vesey, left alone, took his hat and gazed abstractedly into
its silk-lined crown before putting it on his head. Then setting it
aside, he drew Helmsley's letter from his pocket and read it through
again. It ran as follows:--

"MY DEAR VESEY,--I had some rather bad news on the night of Miss
Lucy Sorrel's birthday party. A certain speculation in which I had
an interest has failed, and I have lost on the whole 'gamble.' The
matter will not, however, affect my financial position. You have all
your instructions in order as given to you when we last met, so I
shall leave town with an easy mind. I am likely to be away for some
time, and am not yet certain of my destination. Consider me,
therefore, for the present as lost. Should I die suddenly, or at
sickly leisure, I carry a letter on my person which will be conveyed
to you, making you acquainted with the sad (?) event as soon as it
occurs. And for all your kindly services in the way of both business
and friendship, I owe you a vast debt of thanks, which debt shall be
fully and gratefully acknowledged,--_when I make my Will_. I may
possibly employ another lawyer than yourself for this purpose. But,
for the immediate time, all my affairs are in your hands, as they
have been for these twenty years or more. My business goes on as
usual, of course; it is a wheel so well accustomed to regular motion
that it can very well grind for a while without my personal
supervision. And so far as my individual self is concerned, I feel
the imperative necessity of rest and freedom. I go to find these,
even if I lose myself in the endeavour. So farewell! And as