called the Squire, "to let
all this wild talk go on without a word?"

"I am sorry to say I did not hear it, Squire," replied the moody lawyer,
whose little conversation had been wholly devoted to Mrs. Du Plessis.

After dinner, the lawyer repaired to the Squire's office, and briefly
informed him, that the fortune in funds and property to which his niece
had fallen heir was valued at 80,000 pounds sterling, and that,
fortunately, there was no sign of any contest or opposition in the
matter. He also explained that, under the circumstances, he felt
constrained to take a brief lodging at the post office, and begged Mr.
Carruthers to apologize to his wife for the desertion of Bridesdale.
Then, he sought out Mr Terry in the garden and smoked a pipe with him,
while his new friend, Mr. Douglas, was chatting on the verandah between
Miss Carmichael and Miss Graves. Nobody else seemed to want him or care
for him; he had even lost his old friend Wilks, who was absorbed in his
beloved Cecile. The colonel was as bad with Cecile's mother, and Mr.
Errol with Mrs. Carmichael. The Squire was busy, so the veteran and he
were left alone. For a time, they smoked and talked, listening all the
while, as they could not fail, to the merry badinage of the party on the
verandah. At last he could stand it no longer. He rose, bade his
companion good-night, and strolled away on to the road. Once out of
observation from the house, he walked rapidly to his new quarters. "Is
that you, Styles?" asked Mrs. Tibbs, as he entered. He assured the
postmistress that he was not Styles, and asked if there was anything he
could do for her. "There is a letter here for Squire Carruthers, marked
'immediate,' and they have not been for their mail," she answered. So,
sorely against the grain, the lawyer had to take the letter and return
with it to Bridesdale. Mr. Carruthers was still in his office. He opened
the envelope and read:--

COLLINGWOOD, Saturday, 12 m.
_My Dear Squire,--_

Rawdon and his nephew have broken gaol and escaped. Be on your
guard. Will go to you as soon as possible.

Yours truly,
J. HICKEY BANGS.

"This is bad news, Coristine. It seems as if we're never to hear the
last o' yon villain."

"I'm at your service, Squire."

"I canna thole to ask the colonel, puir man, to lose his nicht's rest,