ve, perhaps a little
loud, and too apt to make capital out of every incident of his life.
But confidential friends are not easily found, and one does not wish
to increase the circle to whom one's family secrets must become
known. Mr. Hittaway was at any rate zealous for the Fawn family, and
then his character as an official man stood high. He had been asked
on the previous evening to step across from the Civil Appeal Office
to give his opinion respecting that letter from Frank Greystock
demanding a written explanation. The letter had been sent to him; and
Mr. Hittaway had carried it home and shown it to his wife. "He's a
cantankerous Tory, and determined to make himself disagreeable," said
Mr. Hittaway, taking the letter from his pocket and beginning the
conversation. Lord Fawn seated himself in his great arm-chair,
and buried his face in his hands. "I am disposed, after much
consideration, to advise you to take no notice of the letter," said
Mr. Hittaway, giving his counsel in accordance with instructions
received from his wife. Lord Fawn still buried his face. "Of course
the thing is painful,--very painful. But out of two evils one should
choose the least. The writer of this letter is altogether unable to
carry out his threat." "What can the man do to him?" Mrs. Hittaway
had asked, almost snapping at her husband as she did so. "And then,"
continued Mr. Hittaway, "we all know that public opinion is with you
altogether. The conduct of Lady Eustace is notorious."

"Everybody is taking her part," said Lord Fawn, almost crying.

"Surely not."

"Yes;--they are. The bill in Chancery has been withdrawn, and it's
my belief that if the necklace were found to-morrow, there would be
nothing to prevent her keeping it,--just as she did before."

"But it was an heirloom?"

"No, it wasn't. The lawyers were all wrong about it. As far as I can
see, lawyers always are wrong. About those nine lacs of rupees for
the Sawab, Finlay was all wrong. Camperdown owns that he was wrong.
If, after all, the diamonds were hers, I'm sure I don't know what I
am to do. Thank you, Hittaway, for coming over. That'll do for the
present. Just leave that ruffian's letter, and I'll think about it."

This was considered by Mrs. Hittaway to be a very bad state of
things, and there was great consternation in Warwick Square when Mr.
Hittaway told his wife this new story of her brother's weakness.
She was not going to be weak. She did not intend to withdra