of it. It has brought me far more than that in
money, but money I now find is not happiness.

"The mine in which my friend has so nearly been destroyed--and his
daughter, who now, too late, I find is the only creature in the world I
love--that mine is now odious to me. I desire by deed to hand it over to
Hope and yourself, upon condition that you follow the seams wherever they
go, and that you give me such a share of the profits during my lifetime
as you think I deserve for my enterprise. This for my life only, since I
shall leave all I have in the world to that dear child, who will now be
your daughter, and perhaps never deign again to look upon the erring man
who writes these lines.

"I should like, if you please, to retain the farm, or at all events a
hundred acres round about the house to turn into orchards and gardens, so
that I may have some employment, far from trade and its temptations, for
the remainder of my days."

* * * * *

In consequence of this letter a deed was drawn and engrossed, and Bartley
had written to say he would come to Clifford Hall and sign it, and have
it witnessed and delivered.

About nine o'clock in the evening one of the detectives called on Colonel
Clifford to make a private communication; his mate had spotted a swell
mobsman, rather a famous character, with the usual number of aliases, but
known to the force as Mark Waddy; he was at the Dun Cow; and possessing
the gift of the gab in a superlative degree, had made himself extremely
popular. They had both watched him pretty closely, but he seemed not to
be there for a job, but only on the talking lay, probably soliciting
information for some gang of thieves or other. He had been seen to
exchange a hasty word with a clergyman; but as Mark Waddy's acquaintances
were not amongst the clergy, that would certainly be some pal that was in
something or other with him.

"What a shrewd girl that must be!" said the Colonel.

"I beg your pardon, Colonel," said the man, not seeing the relevancy of
this observation.

"Oh, nothing," said the Colonel, "only _I_ expect a visit to-morrow at
twelve o'clock from a doubtful clergyman; just hang about the lawn on the
chance of my giving you a signal."

Thus while Monckton was mounting his batteries, his victims were
preparing defenses in a sort of general way, though they did not see
their way so clear as the enemy did.

Colonel Clifford's drawing-room was a magnific