The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the
Mint in Southwark. I have a good memory, you perceive, Sir Rowland."

The knight staggered as if struck by a mortal wound. Speedily recovering
himself, however, he rejoined, with forced calmness, "You are mistaken,
Sir. I was in Lancashire, at our family seat, at the time you mention."

The stranger smiled incredulously.

"Well, Sir Rowland," he said, after a brief pause, during which the
knight regarded him with a searching glance, as if endeavouring to
recall his features, "I will not gainsay your words. You are in the
right to be cautious, till you know with whom you have to deal; and,
even then, you can't be too wary. 'Avow nothing, believe nothing, give
nothing for nothing,' is my own motto. And it's a maxim of universal
application: or, at least, of universal practice. I am not come here to
play the part of your father-confessor. I am come to serve you."

"In what way, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, in astonishment.

"You will learn anon. You refuse me your confidence. I applaud your
prudence: it is, however, needless. Your history, your actions, nay,
your very thoughts are better known to me than to your spiritual
adviser."

"Make good your assertions," cried Trenchard, furiously, "or----"

"To the proof," interrupted the stranger, calmly. "You are the son of
Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. Sir Montacute
had three children--two daughters and yourself. The eldest, Constance,
was lost, by the carelessness of a servant, during her infancy, and has
never since been heard of: the youngest, Aliva, is the present Lady
Trafford. I merely mention these circumstances to show the accuracy of
my information."

"If this is the extent of it, Sir," returned the knight, ironically,
"you may spare yourself further trouble. These particulars are familiar
to all, who have any title to the knowledge."

"Perhaps so," rejoined the stranger; "but I have others in reserve, not
so generally known. With your permission, I will go on in my own way.
Where I am in error, you can set me right.--Your father, Sir Montacute
Trenchard, who had been a loyal subject of King James the Second, and
borne arms in his service, on the abdication of that monarch, turned his
back upon the Stuarts, and would never afterwards recognise their claims
to the crown. It was said, that he received an affront from James, in
the shape of a public reprimand, which his pride could no