u mean to do?"

"If necessary I'll resurrect myself. I'll play the hand alone. You've
no more tact than a hippopotamus. And I'll meet the governor. Don't
stare. Do you think he'll know me? Not much! I left Dorset a smooth-
faced boy; to-day I'm bearded like the pard. My voice, my figure, the
colour of my hair, my complexion are quite unrecognisable. It may be
necessary to show the governor my grave, but I shan't bring him down
here. Now, I must commit murder as well as suicide."

"What?"

"I must kill you, you duffer! Do you think my father would return to
England without thanking the man who was kind to his dear lad? And you
would give the whole snap away. Yes; I'll call upon him as Cartwright,
the administrator of the late Tudor Crisp's estate. If it were not for
that confounded grave and marble cross, I could fix him in ten
minutes. Don't frown. I tell you, 'Bishop,' you're not half the fellow
you were."

"Perhaps not," replied his reverence humbly.

But when Dick was alone he muttered to himself: "Now what the deuce
did the governor mean by a curious change in his fortunes?"

* * * * *

The Rev. George Carteret was sitting at ease in his comfortable rooms
at the Acropolis Hotel. The luxury of them was new to him, yet not
unpleasing after many years of rigorous self-denial and poverty. It
seemed strange, however, that in the evening of life riches should
have come to him--riches from a distant kinsman who, living, had
hardly noticed the obscure scholar and parson. Five thousand pounds a
year was fabulous wealth to a man whose income heretofore had numbered
as many hundreds. And--alas! his son was dead. Not that the parson
loved his daughters the less because they were girls, but as the cadet
of an ancient family he had a Tory squire's prejudice in favour of a
Salique Law. With the thousands went a charming grange in the north
country and many fat acres which should of right be transmitted to a
male Carteret. If--futile thought--Dick had only been spared!

Thus reflecting, the bellboy brought him a card. The parson placed his
glasses upon a fine aquiline nose.

"Ahem! Mr.--er--Cartwright. The name is not familiar to me, but I'll
see the gentleman."

And so, after many years, father and son met as strangers. Dick
fluently explained the nature of his errand. Mr. Carteret's letter had
been given to him as the administrator of the late Mr. Tudor Crisp's
estate. He happened to be in San