t it off nobly.

He was young, no doubt, and had no money, but what then?--he was strong,
had good abilities, a father in a lucrative practice, with the prospect
of assisting and ultimately succeeding him. That was enough, surely.

The lodging which he had taken for a few days was retaken that night for
an indefinite period, and he resolved to lay siege to her heart in due
form.

But that uncertainty which is proverbial in human affairs stepped within
the circle of his life and overturned his plans. On returning to his
rooms he found a telegram on the table. His father, it informed him,
was dangerously ill. By the next train he started for home, and arrived
to find that his father was dead.

A true narrative of any portion of this world's doings must of necessity
be as varied as the world itself, and equally abrupt in its transitions.
From the lively supper-table Stanley Hall passed to the deathbed of his
father. In like manner we must ask the reader to turn with us from the
contemplation of Stanley's deep sorrow to the observation of Queeker's
poetic despair.

Maddened between the desire to tell all he knew regarding the secret
mission to Mr Durant, and the command laid on him by his employers to
be silent, the miserable youth rushed frantically to his lodgings,
without any definite intentions, but more than half inclined to sink on
his knees before his desk, and look up to the moon, or stars, or;
failing these, to the floating light for inspiration, and pen the
direful dirge of something dreadful and desperate! He had even got the
length of the first line, and had burst like a thunderbolt into his room
muttering--

"Great blazing wonder of illimitable spheres,"

when he became suddenly aware of the fact that his chair was occupied by
the conchological friend with whom he had spent the earlier part of that
day, who was no other than the man with the keen grey eyes.

"What! still in the poetic vein?" he said, with a grave smile.

"Why--I--thought you were off to London!" exclaimed Queeker, with a very
red face.

"I have seen cause to change my plan," said Mr Larks quietly.

"I'm _very_ glad of it," replied Queeker, running his fingers through
his hair and sitting down opposite his friend with a deep sigh, "because
I'm in the most horrible state of perplexity. It is quite evident to me
that the boy is known to Miss Durant, for she went off into _such_ a
state when I mentioned him and described him e