at these words was magical; he
touched his hat in salute, and listened with all show of respect.

"It is my intention, if satisfied with your report, to recommend you
for the command of the legion, with the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel,"
continued Maitland; "and I have already written about those advances you
mentioned."

"I 'll take care that you are satisfied with me," said M'Caskey,
respectfully; "I'll start within half an hour."

"This is all as it should be. I hope it is our first and last
misunderstanding;" and he held out his hand frankly, which the other
grasped and shook cordially. "How are you off for ready cash? Treat me
as a comrade, and say freely."

"Not over flush, but I suppose I can rub on," said the Major, with some
confusion.

"I have some thirty sovereigns here," said Maitland; "take them, and
we'll settle all when we meet."

M'Caskey put the purse in his pocket, and, with the uneasy consciousness
of a man ashamed of what he was doing, muttered out a few unmeaning
words of thanks, and said, "Good-bye!"

"These condottieri rascals have been troublesome fellows in all
ages," said Maitland, as he smoked away alone; "and I suspect they are
especially unsuited to our present-day life and its habits. I must rid
myself of the Major."

CHAPTER XI. EXPLANATIONS

By the time Maitland had despatched his man Fenton to meet Count
Cafifarelli, and prevent his coming to Lyle Abbey, where his presence
would be sure to occasion much embarrassment, the company had retired to
their rooms, and all was quiet.

Though Mark was curious to know why and how Maitland had disappeared
with his foreign friend, he had grown tired thinking over it, and fallen
sound asleep. Nor did he hear Maitland as he entered the room and drew
nigh his bedside.

"What's wrong,--what has happened?" cried Mark, as he started up
suddenly on his bed.

"Nothing very serious, but still something worth waking you for; but are
you sure you are awake?"

"Yes, yes, perfectly. What is it all about? Who are in it?"

"We are all in it, for the matter of that," said Maitland, with a quiet
laugh. "Try and listen to me attentively for a couple of minutes. The
man your father brought back with him from Coleraine, believing him to
be my friend Caffarelli, was not Cafifarelli at all!"

"What! And he pretended to be?"

"No such thing: hear me out. Your father spoke to him in French; and
finding out--I don't exactly know how--that he and I w