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• 'S A m m o «kt* * 'l-j <<* -■' tÜM fö • ••••« • • • • »••••••••••••••• ill if es« 1& « wi. Volume xx. Helena, Montana, Thursday, March 18, 1886. No. 18 tfl lf niccldy%ahl. R. E. FISK D. W FISK, A J- FISK, Publishers und Proprietors. Largest Circulation of any Paper in Montana Rates of Subscription. WEEKLY HERALD: ie Year, (in »«Ivance)............................. x Months, (in advance)............................... - iree Months, (in advance)........■ ................ 1 '** When not paid for in advance the rate will lie lur Dollars per veaii Postage, >» i* 11 cases, Prepaul. DAILY HERALD: City Subscribers,delivered by carrier ,*150 a month One Year, by mail, (in advance). ............... Six Months, by mail, (in advance)............... 6 j*' Three Months, by mail, (in advance)........... •> uo A*-A11 communications should be addressedto FISK BROS., Publishers, Helena, Montana. MYLADYS MONEY Ey WILKIE COLLINS. AN EPISODE IX THE LIKE OF A YOUNG GIRL. PAKT THE SECOND. —--—*— THE DISCOVERY. [CONTINUED.] CHAPTER IX. The next day Mr. Troy (faking Robert Moody with him as a valuable witness) rang the bell at the mean and dirty lodging house in which Old Sharon received the clieuts who stood in need of his advice. They were led up stairs to a back room on the second floor of the house.• Entering the room, thev discovered, through a thick cloud of tobacco smoke, a small, fat, bald-headed, dirty old man in an arm chair, robed in a tattered flannel dressing gown, with a short pipe in his mouth, a pug dog on his lap and a French novel in his hands. "Is it businessf" asked Old Sharon, speak ing in a hoarse, asthmutical voice, and fixing a pair of bright, shameless black eyes atten tively on the two visitors. "It is business," Mr. Troy answered, look ing at the old rogue who ha l disgraced an honorable profession as he might have looked at a reptile which had just risen rampant at his feet. 'VVhat is your fee for a consulta tion ?" "You give me a guinea and I'll give you half an hour. ' With this reply Old Sharon held out his unwashed hand across the rickety, ink-splashed table at which he was sitting. Mr. Troy would not have touched him with the tips of his own fingers for £1,000. He laid the guinea on the table. Old Sharon burst into a fierce laugh—a laugh strangely accompanied by a frowning contraction of hts eyebrows, and a frightful exhibition of the whole inside of his mouth. "I'm not clean enough for you, eh?" he said, with an appearance of being very much amused. " There's a dirty old man described in this lsiok that is a little like me." Ha held up his French novel. "Have you read it? A capital story—well put together. Ah, you haven't read it ? You have got a pleas ure to come. 1 say, do you mind tobacco smoke? 1 think faster while 1 smoke—that's all." Mr. Troy's respectable hand waived « silent permission to smoke, given under dig ni fled protest. "All right," said Old Sharon. "Xosv, get on." He laid himself back in his chair and puffed out his smoke, with eyes lazily half closed, like the eyes of the pug dog on his lap. At that moment, indeed, there was a curious resemblance between the two. They both seemed to be preparing themselves, in tlie same idle way, for the same comfortable nap. Mr. Troy stated the circumstances uuder which the five hundred pound note had dis appeared in clear and consecutive narrative. When he had done Old Sharon suddenly opened his eyes. The pug dog suddenly opened his eyes. Old Sharon looked hard at Mr. Troy. The pug looked hard at Mr. Troy. Old Sharon spoke. The pug growled. "I know who you are—you're a lawyer. Don't be alarmed; 1 never saw you liefere, and I don't know your name. AYliat Ido know is a lawyer's statement of facts when I hear it. Who's this?" Old Sharon looked inquisitively at Moody as he put the ques tion. Mr. Troy introduced Moody as a competent witness, thoroughly acquainted with tiie cir omnstanoes. and ready and willing to answer any questions relating to them. Old Sharon waited a little, smoking hard and thinking hard. "Now. then!" he burst out. in his fiercely sudden way, "I'm going to get to the root of the matter." He leaned forward with his elbows on the table, and began his examination of Moody. Heartily as Mr. Troy despised and disliked the old rogue, he listened with astonishment and admiration, literally extorted from him by the marvelous ability with which the questions were adapted to 11 1 -* end iu view. In a quarter of an hour Old Sharon had ex tracted from the witness everything, liter ally everything, down to the smallest de tail, that Moody could tell him. Having uow, in his own phrase, "got to the root of the matter," he relit his pijie with a grunt of satisfaction, and laid himself back again in his old arm chair. "Well," said Mr. Troy, "have you formed your opinion?" "Yes; I've formed my opinion." "What is it?" Iqstead of replying < fid Sharon winked confidentially at Mr. Troy, and put a ques tion on his side. "I say! is a tea potlud note much of an ob ject to you?" "It depends," answered Mr. Troy, "on what the money is wanted for." "Look here," said old Sharon; "I can give you an opinion for your guinea; but, mind this, its an opinion founded oil hearsay— and you know as a lawyer what that is worth. Venture your ten pound*—in plain English, pay me for my time an 1 trouble in a baffling and difficult case—and I'll give you an opinion founded on my own experience.' "Explain yourself a little more clearly,' said Troy'. "What do you guarantee to tel! us if we venture the ten pounds ?" "I guarantee to name the person, or the persons, on whom the suspicion really rests. And if you employ me after that, I guarantee (before you pay me a half peuuy more) to prove that I am right by laying my hand on the thief." j 1 j I "Let us have the guinea opinion first," said Mr. Troy. Old Sharon made another frightful exhibi tion of the whole inside of his mouth; his laugh was louder and fiercer than ever. "1 like you," he said to Mr. Troy; "you are sc devilish fond of your money. Lord! how rich you must lx*! Now listen. Here's the guinea opinion: Suspect, it this case, the very last person on whom suspicion could possibly fall." s m ( X L j »V .1 - ¥ V. v - / 'T a. iib —'] "Here'8 the guinea opinion." Moody, listening attentively, started and changed color at these last words. Mr. Troy looked thoroughly disappointed, and made no attempt to conceal it. "is that all?" he asked. "All?" retorted the cynical vagabond. "You're a pretty lawyer! What more can I say when I don't know for certain whether the witness who has given me my informa tion has misled me or not? Have I spoken to the girl and formed my own opinion? No! Have I been intrixlueed among the servants (as errand boy, or to clean the boots and shoes, or what not), and have I formed my own judgment of them} No! I take your opinions for granted, and I tell you how I should set to work myself if they were my opinions too; and that's a guinea's worth—a devilish good guinea's worth to a rich man like you !" Old Sharon's logic oroduced a i-ertain effect on Mr. Troy in spite of himself. It was smartly put from his point of view—there was no denying that. "Even if I consented to your proposal," he said, "I should object to your annoying the young lady with impertinent questions, or to your being introduced as a spy into a respect able house." Old Sharon doubled his dirty lists and drammed with them on the rickety table in a comical frenzy of impatience while Mr. Troy was speaking. "What the devil do you know about my way of doing my business?" he burst out, when 'lie lawyer had done. "One of us two is talking like a born idiot, and (mind this) ii isn't me. Look here! Your young lady goes out for a walk, and she meets with a dirty, shabby old beggar—I look like a shabby old beggar already, don't I ? Very goal. This dirty old wretch whines and whimpers and tells a long story, and gets sixpence out of the girl, ami knows her by that time, inside and out, as well as if he laid made her—ami, mark! hasn't asked her a single question, and, in stead of annoying her, has made her happy in the performance of a charitable action. Stop a bit I haven't done with you yet. Who blacks your Ixxits and shoes? Look here!" He pushed his pug dog off his Jap, dived under the table, appeared again with an old Ixxit and a bottle of blacking, and set to work with tigerish activity. "I'm going out fora walk, you know, and I may as well make myself smart" With that announcement he began to sing over his work—a song of sentiment, popular in Eng land in the early part of the present century —" 'She's all my fancy painted her, she's lovely, she's divine; but her heart it is another's, and it never can be mine! Too ral-loo-ral-loo.' I like a love song. Brush away! brush away! till I see my own pretty fat* in the blacking. Hey! Here's a nice, harmless, jolly obi man! sings ami jokes over his work, and makes the kitchen quite cheer ful. What's that you say? He's a stranger, and don't talk to him too freely. You ought to be ashamed of yourself to speak in that way of a jioor old fellow with one foot in tht grave. Mrs. Cook will give him a nice bit ol dinner in the scullery, and John Footmar will look out an old coat for him. And when lie's heard everything he wants to hear, ami doesn't come back again the next «lay tc his work, what do they think of it iu the ser vants' hall? I)o the\* say, 'We've had a spy among us!' Yah! you know better than that by this time. The cheerful old man ha« l «een run over in the street, or is down with the fever, or has turned up his toes in the parish dead uouse—that's what they say in the servants' ball. Try me in your own kitchen, and see if your servant« take me for a spy. Come, come, Mr. Lawyer! out with your ten pounds, and don't waste anymore precious time about it!" "I will consider, and let you know," said Mr. Troy. Olil Sharon laughed more ferociously than ever, and hobbled round the table in a great hurry to the place at which Moaly was sit ting. He laid one hau l on the steward's shoulder, and pointed derisively with the other to Mr. Troy. "I say. Mr. Silent-man! Bet you £5 1 never hear of that lawyer again!" Silently attentiveall through the interview (except when he was answering qu »stiou«), Moaly only replied in the fewest possible words. "I don't bet," was all he said. He showed no resentment at Sharon's familiar ity, and he appeared to find no amusement in Sharon's extraordinary talk. The old vaga bond seemed actually to produce a serious impression on him. When Mr. Troy set the example of rising to go, he still kept his seat and looked at the lawyer as if he regretted leaving the atmosphere of tobacco smoke reeking in the dirty room. "Have you anything to say before we go?" Mr. Troy asked. Moody rose slowly and looked at Old Shar on. "Not just now. sir," he replied, looking away again, after a moment's reflection. Old Sharon interprète 1 Moody's look and Mood > 's reply from his own peculiar point of view. He suddenly drew the steward away into a corner of the room. "1 sav!" he began, in a whisper. "Upon your solemn word of honor, you know—are you as rich as the lawyer there? ' "Certainly not." "Look here! It's half price to a poor man. If you feel like coming back, on your own account, tivo pounds will do from you. There! there! Think of it—think of it." "Now, then?" said Mr. Troy, waiting for his companion, with the door open in his hand. He looked back at Sharon when Moody joined him. The old vagabond was settled again in his armchair, with his dog in his lap, his pipe in his mouth, and his French novel iu his hand, exhibiting exactly the picture of frowzy comfort which he had presented wnen ms visitors first entered the room. "Good day." sai«i Mr. Troy, with haughty condescension. "Don't interrupt me," rejo'ned OI«l Sharon, absorbed iu 1rs novel. "You've had your guinea's worth. Lord! what a lovely boob this is! Don't interrupt me." "Impudent scoundrel!' said Mr. Troy, when he and Moody were in the stre?t again. "What could my friend mean by recom mending him? Fancy his expecting me to trust him with £10! I consider even the guinea completely thrown awuv." "Begging your pardon, sir." said Moody, "I don't quite agree with you there." "What! you don't mean to tell me you un derstand that oracular sen 'eu * of his—'Sus pect the very last person on whom suspicion could possibly iali'? Rubbish!" "I don't sav I understand it, sir. I only say it has set me thinking." "Thinking of what? D > your suspicious point to the thief? ' "if you will please to excuse me, Mr. Troy, [ should like to wait a while before 1 answer that" Mr. Troy stood suddenly still, an 1 eyed his companion a little distrustfully. "Are you going to turn detective police man on your own account? ' he a«k;d. "There's nothing I won't turn to, and try, to help Miss Isabel iu this ma ter," Moody answered, firmly. "I have saved a few hun dred pounds in Lady Lydianl's service, and I am ready to spend every farthing of it if I can only discover the thief." Mr. Troy walked on again. "Miss Isabel seems to have a good friend in you," he sai<L He was (perhaps unconsciously) a little of fended by the independent tone in which the steward spoke, after he had himself engaged to take the vindication of the girl's iun<x-enee into his own hands. "Mi-s I sa 1*1 has a devoted servant and slave in me," Moixly answered, with pas sionate enthusiasm. "Very creditable: I haven't a word to say against it," Mr. Troy rejoined. "But don't forget that the young lady has other devote«! friends beside you. I am her devoted friend, for install«*. I have promise«! to serve her, and 1 mean to keep my word. You will ex cuse me for adding that my exjx?riene » and discretion are quite as likely to be useful to her as your enthusiasm. I know the world well enough to lx; careful in trusting stran gers. It will do you no harm, Mr. Moody, to follow my example." Moody accepted his reproof with becoming patience and resignation. " If you have anything to propose, sir., that will l* of ser vice to Mis« Isalxd," he said. "1 shall be happy if I can assist you in the humblest capacity." "And if not!" Mr. Troy inquired, conscious of having nothing to propose as he* asked the question. "Iu that case, sir, I must take my own course, and blame uobaly but myself if it leads me astray." Mr. Troy said no more; he parted from Moody at the next turning. Pursuing the subject privately in his own mind, he decided o l taki lg the earliest oJ> portunitv of visiting Isabel at her aunt's house, and on warning her in her future in tercourse with Mfxxly, not to trust too much to the steward's discretion. "I haven't a doubt," thought the lawyer, "of what he means to do next. The infatuated fool is going l ack to Old Sharon!" CHAPTER X. Returning to his office, Mr. Troy dis covered, among the correspondence that was waiting for him, a letter from the very per son whose welfare was still the uppermost subject in his mind. Isabel Miller wrote iu these terms: The Lawn, South Morden. Thursday. Dear Sir: My aunt, Miss Pink, is very desirous of consulting you professionally at the earliest opportunity. Although South Morden is within little more than half au hour's railway ride from Loudon, Miss Pink does not presume to ask you to visit her, t«eing well aware of the value of your tima Will you, therefore, be so kiml as to let me know when it will be convenient to you to receive my aunt at your cliice in London? Believe me, dear sir, Respectfully yours, Isabel Miller. P. S.—1 am further instructed to say that the regretanle event at Lady Lydiard's house is the proposed subject of tiie consultation. Mr. Troy smiled as he read the letter. "Too formal for a young girl," he said to himself. "Every word of it has been dic tated by Miss Pink.* He was not long in deciding what course he should take. There was a pressing necessity for cautioning Isabel, and here was nil opportunity. Hi sent for his head clerk, and looked at his list of engagements for the daw There was nothing set down in the book which the clerk was not quite as well able to manage as the master. Mr. Troy consulted his railway guide, ordered his cab and caught the next train to South Morden. South Morden was then (and remains to this day) one of those primitive agricultural villages, passed over by the march of malern progress, which are still to be found in the near neighborhood of London. Only the slow trains stopp« 1 «! at the station ; anil there was so little to do that the station master and his porter grew flowers on the embank ment, an 1 trained creepers over the waiting room window. Turning your back ou the railway, and walking along the one street of South Morden, you found yourself in the old England of two centuries since. Gabled cot rage-, with fast-closed windows: pigs and poultry in quiet possession of the road; the venerable church surrounded by its shaily burial ground; the grocer's shop which sold everything, and the butcher's shop which sold nothing; the scarce inhabitants who like«l a good look at a stranger, and the un washed children who were pictures of dirty health; the clash of the iron-chained bucket iu the public well, and the thump of the fall ing nine-pins in the skittle ground behind the public house; the horse pond on one bit of open ground and the ol«l elm tre > with the w«xxlen seat rouml it on the other—these were some of the objects that you saw and some of the noises that you heard in South Morden, as you passed from one end of the village to the other. About half a mile beyond the last of the old cottages modern England met you again under the form of a row of little villas, set up by an adventurous London builder who h:ul 1 »ought the land at a bargain. Each villa stood in its own little garden, end looked across a stony road at the meadow lands and softly rising wtxxltsl hills beyond Each villa faced you in the sunshine with the hor rid glare of new red brick, and forced its nonsensical name on your attention, traced in bright paint on the posts of its entrance gate. Consulting the pests as he advanced, Mr. Troy arrived in due course cf time at the villa called The Lawn, which derived its name apparently from a circular patch of grass in front of the house. The gate resist ing his efforts to open it, he rang the bell Admitted by a trim, clean, .shy little maid servant. Mr. Troy looked anout nun in sneuu amazement. Turn which way he might, he found himse f silently confronted by posted and painted instructions to visitors, which forbade him to do this, and commanded him to do that, at every step of his progress from the gate to the house. On cue side of the lawu a lalxd informed him that lie was not to walk on the grass. Ou the other side a painted hand pointai aloug a boundary wall to an inscription which warned him to go that way if he had business in the kitchen. On the gravel walk at the foot of the house steps words, neatly traced in little white shells, reminded him not to "forget the sc raper. " On the door step he was informe«!, in letters of lead, that he was "Welcome!" On the mat in the passage bristly black words burst on his attention, commanding him to "wipe his shoes." Even the hat stand in the hall was not allowed to speak for itself: it hatl "Hats and Cloaks" iuscribeil on it, and it issued its directions imperatively in the matter of your wet umbrella—"Put it here !" Giving the trim little servant his card, Mr. Troy was introduced to a reception room on the lower floor. Before he had time to look round him. the door was opened again from without, and Isabel stole into the room on tiptoe. She l«x>ked worn and anxious. When she shook hands with the old lawyer the charming smile that he remembered so well was gone. "Don't say you have seen me." she whis pered. ' T am not to come into the room till my aunt sends for me. Tell me two things before I ran away again. How is Lady Lydiard? And have you discovered the thief?" "Lady Lydiard was well when I last saw her, and we have not yet succee«ied in dis covering the thief." Having answered the questions in those terms, Mr. Troy decided on questioning Isabel on the subject of the steward while he had the chance. "One question ou my side." he said, holding her back from the door by the arm. "Do you expect Moody to visit you here?" "I am sure he will visit me," Isabel an swered, warmly. "He has protnis«Hl to come here, at my request. I never knew what a kind heart Roliert Moody had till this mis fortune fell on me. My aunt, who is not easily taken with strangers, respects and ad mires him. I can't tell you how good he was to me on the journey here, and how kindly, how nobly, he spoke to me when we parted." She paused, aud turned her head away. The tears were rising in her eyes. "In my situ ation," she said, faintlv, "kindness is very keenly felt Don't n«>tice me, Mr. Troy." The lawyer waited a moment to let her re cover herself. "1 agree entirely, niv clear, in your opinion of Moaly,' he said. "At the same time, I think it right to warn you that his zeal iu your service may possibly outrun his dis cretion. He may feel too eoufiileutly about penetrating the mystery of the missing money, and, unless you are uu your guard, he may raise falsa ho|>es ifi you when you next see him. Listen to any advice that he may give you, by all means; but before you decide on being guided by his opiuiou, consult my oliler ex|x-rience and hear what I have to say ou the subject. Don't suppose that I am attenuating to make you distrust this gfxxl friend," he added, noticing the lack of uneasy surprise which Isalxd fixed ou him. "No su« h idea Is in iny mind I only warn you that Moody's eagerness to be of service to you may mislead him. You understand me?" "Yes, sir," replied Isabel coldly; "I umier staml you. Please let me go now. My aunt will lx; down directly, and she must not find me here." She courtesied with distant respect ami left the room. "»So much for trying to put two idea« to gether into a girl's mind," thought Mr. Troy, when he was alone again. "The little fool evidently thinks I am jealous of Moaly's place in lier estimation. WeU, I have done my duty, and I can do no more." He looked round the room. Not a chair was out of its place, not a speck of dust was to be seen. The brightly perfect polish of the table made your eyes ache; the ornaments on it laiked as if they had never been touched by mortal hand; the piauo was au object for distant admiration, uot an instrument to be played on; tiie carpet made Mr. Troy look nervously at the soles of his shoes ; and the sofa (protected by layers of white crochet work) said as plaiuly as if iu words, "»Sit ou me if you dare!" Mr. Troy retreated to a bookcase at the farther end of the room. The books fitted the shelves to such absolute perfection that he ha«l some difficulty iu tak ing one of them out. When he had succeeded, he found himself in possession cf a volume of the "History of EuglauiL" Ou the fly-leaf he encountered another written warning: "This bo««k belongs to Miss Pink's Academy for Young Ladies, and is not to be removed from the library." The date, which was added, referred to a period of ten years since. Miss Pink now stoal revealed as a retirai schoolmistress; and Mr. Troy began to under stand some of the characteristic peculiarities of that lady's establishment which had puz zled him up to the present time. He had just succeeded in putting the boob back again when the door opened once more, and Isabel's aunt entered the room. If Miss Pink could, by auy possible con juncture of circumstances, lave disappeared mysteriously from her house and her friends, the police would have found the great est difficulty in composing the neces sary description of the missing lady. The acutest observer could have dis covered nothing that was noticeable or characteristic in her personal appearance. The pen of the present writer portrays her in despair by a series of negatives. She was not young, she was not old; she was neither tall nor short, nor stout nor thin; nobaly could call her features attractive, and nobody could call them ugly ; there was nothing in her voice, her expression, her manner or her dress that differed in any appreciable degree from the voice, expression, manner and dress of five hundred thousand other single ladies of her age aud position iu the world. If you had asked her to describe herself, she would have answered, "I am a gentlewoman;'' and if you had inquiretl which of her numerous accomplishments took highest rank in her own esteem, she would have replied, "My powers of conversation.'' For the rest, she was Miss Pink, of South Morden; aud when that has lx*n said, all ha« been said. "Pray lie seat«'«!, sir. We have had a beautiful day after the late long-continued wet weatljer. I am told that the season is very unfavorable for wall fruit. May I offer you some refreshment after your journey!" In these terms, and in the smcxithest of voices. Miss Pink opened the interview. Mr. Troy made a polite reply, and added a few strictly conventional remarks on the beauty of the neighborhood. Not even a lawyer could sit iu Miss Pink's presence and hear Miss Pink's conversation without feel ing himself callefl upon (in the nursery phrase) to "lie on his best behavior." "It is extremely kind of you, Mr. Troy, to favor me with this visit," Miss Piuk re l ! ! j l sinned. "I am well aware that the time ui professional gentlemen is of esjx»eial value to ! them, and I will therefore ask you to excuse ! me if I proceed abruptly to the subject on j which I desire to consult your experience." Here the lady modestly smoothed out her dress over her knees, and the lawyer made a bow. Miss Pink's highly traiuerl conversa tion had perhaps one fault—it w-_s not, strictly speaking, conversation at all. In its effect on her hearers it rather resembled the contents of a fluently conventional letter, read aloud "The circumstances under which my niec* Isabel has left I July Lydiard's house,'' Miss Pink proceeded, "are so indescribably pain ful—I will go further, I will say so deeply humiliating—that I have forbidden her to refer to them again in my presence, or to mention them in the future to any living creature besides myself. You are acquainted with tho«e circumstances, Mr. Troy, aud you will understand my indignation when I first learned that my sister's child had lx*n sus pectefl of theft. I have not the honor of being acquainted with Lady Lcdianl. She is not a countess, I believe? Just so! her husband was only a baron. I am not ae quainted with Lady Lydiard, and I will not trast myself to say what I think of her con duct to my niece." zS I :)/ VA L "I will not trust myself to say what I think of her conduct ." "Pardon me, madam," Mr. Troy interposed. "Before you say auy more about Lady Lydianl, I must really beg leave to ob serve-" "Pardon me," Miss Pink rejoined, "I never form a hasty judgment Lady Lydiard's conduct is beyond the reach of any defense, no matter how ingenious it may be. You may not be aware, sir, that in receiving ray niece uuder her roof her lady ship was receiving a gentlewoman by hii-th as well as by education. My late lamented sister was the daughter of a clergyman of the Church of England. I need hardly remind you that, as such, she was a born lady. Uuder favoring circumstances, Isabel s ma ternal grandfather might have been arch bishop of Canterbury, and have taken pre cedence of the whole house of peers, the princes of the blood royal alone excepted. I am not prejjared to say that niv niece Is equally well conn ected on her father's side. My sister surprised—I will not aild shocked —us when she married a chemist. At the same time, a chemist is nota tradesman. He is a gentleman at one end of the profession of medicine, and a titled physician is a gen tleman at the other end. That is a!l. In in viting Isabel to reside with her. Lady Lydianl, 1 repeat, was bound to remember that she was associating herself with a young gentlewoman. She has nut remembered this, which is one insult; and she has sus pected my niece of theft, which is another." Miss Pink paused to take breath. Mr. Troy made a second attempt to get a hearing. "Will you kindly permit me, madam, to say two words?" "No!" said Miss Piuk, asserting the most immovable obstinacy under the blandest politeness of manner. "Your time, Mr. Troy, is really too valuable. Not even your trained intellect can excuse conduct which is mani festly inexcusable on the face of it. Now you know my opinion of Lady Lydiard, you will not be surprised to hear that I decline to trust her ladyship. She may, or she may not, cause the necessary inquiries to be made for the vindication of my niece's character. In a matter so serious as this—I may say, in a duty which I owe to the memories of my sister anil my parents—I will not leave the responsibility to Lady Lyiliard I will take it on myself. Let me add that I am able to ]>ay the necessary expenses. The earlier years of my life, Mr. Troy, have been passed iii the tuition of young ladies. I have been happy in meriting the confidence of parents, and I have lx*en strict iu observing the golden rales of economy. On my retire ment, I have been able to invest a modest, a very malest, little fortune in the funds. A portion of it is at the service of iny niece for the recovery of her good name; and 1 de sire to place the necessary investigation, confidentially, in your hands. You are ae quainted with the ease, and the case natur ally goes to you. 1 could uot prevail ou my self—I really could not prevail on myself— to mention it to a stranger. That is the busi ness on which I wished to consult you. Please say nothing more about Lady Lydiard; the subject is inexpressibly disagreeable to me. I will only trespass on your kindness to tell me if I have succeeded in making myself understood." Miss Pink leaned hack iy her «hair st the exact angle permitted by the laws of pro priety, rested her left elbow on the palm of her right hand, and lightly supported her cheek with her forefinger and thumb. Iu this position she waited Mr. Troy's answer—the living picture of human obstinacy iu its most respectable form. If Mr. Troy had not been a lawyer—in other words, if he had not been professionally capable of persisting in his own eoui-se in the face of every conceivable difficulty and dis couragement— Miss Pink might have re mained iu undisturbed possession of lier own opinion«. As it was, Mr. Troy had got his hearing at last; aud no matter how obsti nately she might close her eyes to it. Miss Pink was now- destined to have the other side of the case presented to her view. "I am sincerely obliged to you, madam, for the expression of your confidence in me," Mr. Troy began; "at the same time, I must beg you to excuse me if I decline to acc*pt your proposal" Miss Pink had not expected to receive such an answer as this. The lawyer's brief re fusal surprised ami annoyed her. "Why do you dec-line to assist me?" she asked. "Because," answered Mr. Troy, "my ser vices are already engaged iu Miss Isabel's in terest by a elieut whom 1 have served for more than twenty years. My client is-" Mi«s Piuk auticipated the eomiug disclos ure. "You need not trouble yourself, sir, to mentiou your client's name," she said. "My. client," ; »ersisted Mr. Troy, "loves Miss Isabel dearly-" , "That is a matter of opinion," Miss Pink interposed. "And believes in Miss Isabel s innocence," proceeded the irrepressible lawyer,"as firmly as you believe in it yourself." Miss Pink (being human) had a temper, and Mr. Troy had found his way toit. "If Lady Lydiard believes in my niece's innocen«*," said Miss Pink, suddenly sitting bolt upright in her chair, "why has my nieee teen compelled, in justice to herself, to leave Lady Lydiard's house?" "You will admit, madam," Mr. Troy an swered, cautiously, "that we are all of us liable, in this wicked world, to l* the victim of appearances. Your nie«* is a victim—an inna-eut victim. She wisely withdraws from Lady Lydiard's house until appearan«*s are proved to lx; false, and her position is cleared up." Miss Pink had her reply ready. "This is simply acknowledging, m other words, that my niece is suspected. I am only a woman, Mr. Troy, but it is not quite so ea-y to mis lead me as you seem to suppose." Mr. Troy's temper was admirably trained, but it began to acknowledge that Miss Pink's powers of irritation could sting to some pur pose. "No intention of misleailing you, madam, has ever crossed my mind," he rejoined warmly. "As for your niece, I can tell you this: In all my experience of Laily Lydiard, I never saw her so distressed as she was when Miss Isabel left the house." "Indeed?" said Miss Pink, with an incredu lous smile. "In my rank of life, when we feel distressed alxmt a person, we do our best to comfort that person by a kind letter or an early visit But then I am not a lady of title." "Lady Lydiard engaged herself to call on Miss Isabel in my hearing," said Mr. Troy. "Lady Lydiard is the most generous woman living. " "Lady Lydiard is here!" cried a joyful voice on the other side of the «lair. At the same moment Isabel burst into the room in a state of excitement which actually ignored the formidable presence of Miss Pink. "I lieg your pardon, aunt. I was up stairs at the window, and I saw the carriage, stop at the gate. And Tommie has come, too! The darling saw me at the window!" cried the pair girl, her eyes sparkling with delight, as a perfect explosion of barking maile itself heard over the tramp of horses' feet and the crash of carriage wheels out lide. Miss Pink rose slowly, with a dignity that laiked cajiable of adequately receiving, not one noble lady only, but the whole peerage of England. "Control yourself, dear Isabel," she said. "No well-bred young lady permits herself to become unilul^excited. Stand by my side— a little lxjhiud me." Isabel obeyed. Mr. Troy kept his place, -and privately enjoyed his triumph over Miss Pink. If Lady Lydiard had been actually in league with him, she could not have chosen a more opportun# time for her visit. A mo mentary interval passed; the carriage drew up at the door; the horses trampled on the gravel; the bell rang madly; the uproar of Tommie, released from the carriage and clamoring to lx; let in, redoubled its fury. Never Ixffore had such an unruly hurst of noises invaded the tranquility of Miss Pink's villa. _ [TO BE CONTINUED.] A SPORTSMAN'S PARADISE. THE MOST EXTENSIVE PRIVATE GAME PRESERVES ON THIS CONTINENT. dew York. Feb. 10. —Many r^ent inci dents have served to bring the name of Pierre Lorillard before the public. He has endeavored to live a quiet, unassum ing life, only his intimate friends and the thousands in his employ be ing aware of the kindliness of his nature and his zeal to ameliorate the condition of those r whom fortune has-oj not favored as it has himself. The announcement of his refiremen t from the turf, to the de velopment of which he devoted S200,000 a year, was promoted solely by his self-respect. He has been for years opposing the tendency which reduced the American turf from honest contests of horse breeding and training to gambling bouts. Failing in his almost single handed efforts he has de termined to withdraw, taking with him much of the ol«l time respectability of the race track. Mr. Lorillard's letter to a workingman, who took occasion to warn him of the impending struggle between labor and capital, is a remarkable do -uineut in its way, and throws a little light on the charac ter of the man. The following are a few extracts: y PIERRE LORILLARD. n n % r w *\ entrance gate and lodge. Dear Hir: Your note with inclosure re ceived; 1 do not usually answer letters per sonally, as I have so much to attend to. bu1 being at present laid up iu the hon-e by an accident which damaged my leg. 1 thought I would answer your letter. * * * For a loug time I have taken a great and increas ing interest iu the we! I are and happiness ol the oppressed of Europe, and also a deep in terest in the laboring classes of America, sc many of whom I employ. But the field is broader than my own af fairs I know the irresistible power of thf masses, and I sympathize with them in theii îterual s! niggle for existence. I feel for them, well knowing their daily efforts tc •teep the wolf from the door. Many times have I thought if some plan could not be de • J y*; them a more equaf share in the good things of this life. How to améliorât« their condition is the question. Could not their leaders advise them to look upon the ballot as the most efficient instrumentality to produce for them a more satisfactory state of affairs. Communism is and always has been a failure. Co-operative works look well in theory, but they have generally failed; ami yet I think we must look to them in the near future a« the most prac ticable method of benefiting the laboring classe«. îS -y 9e & Gt t! A GLIMPSE OP THE LAKE. The danger to the people by the accumu lation of the enormous fortunes of the pres ent day, and the fact of their being owned by jx-rsons who seem to have no respect, love or common feeling for the people, seems to me a great and important problem. In Europe princes, kings and persons of great wealth use their means in a thousand ways for the gratification, happiness and refinement of the people around them, whereas, in this country, they act selfishly ami they are. or appear to be, utterly in different to the suffering at their doors. As to your hint of an impending rising among the people, personally I have nothing to fear. Almost all my means are iu my fac tories, and I will always be in the front rank of those who love the people and shall do all iu my power to check them in auf madness that bad or ambitious leaders may advocate. 's C St-i aat-si PIERRE LORILLARD S VILLA. An inquiry among the bands of his tre mendous factories corroborates hisassertion of endeavors to ele-fate his working people, as far as it is con-i-tent with good discipline. Mr. Lorillard lives very plainly; it would be safe to wager that uo $15 a-week dry goods clerk in New York city <1 nes more frugally. But it is to the dev« lopment of Tuxedo park, of which so inu ch has been said lateiy, (hat Mr.Ciorillard's name is now most fre quently mentioned. T ixedo park is situ ated thirty-five miles northwest of New York oity. It comprises Û.Ü00 acres of the most charming aud picturesque scenery Imaginable, diversifiai by streams which scramble dowrf among the rough boulders of the Ramapo mountains, to form the Ramapo river and a beautiful lake. Mr. Lorillard's father long ago stocked this lake with fish, until it has become the most celebrated in this section. It is Mr. Lorillard's idea to stock the other ponds aui wotxls with fish and game of every kin<i, after the stylo of the great game preserves of Europe. A land scape architect is engaged to direct the whole work of laying out roads aud bridle paths, with a view of retaining all the wild luxuriousne-8 of nature. Buildings and cottages are leing con structed like that of the lodge at the en trance. Stone ilirect from the hillsides, without the slightest dressing, i3 used, care being taken that all the cling ng moss is re tained. giving them in appearance all the mellowness aud richness of centuries, though they are the creations of to-day. Besides the old road built by the Continental army, which is still in a good state of freservar Vt. j r rj fdi : H m •»»u fj ». c :^ V Éfe - W 0 mi to!,! * ? °\,A THE OU) REVOLUTIONARY FORGE, tion, there is another relic that will be carefully preserved; it is the ruins of the old forge in which the immense iroa chain was forge«! that was drawn across the Hud son in revolutionary times to prevent Eng lish ships from proceeding further. The cottage of Mr. Lorillard is a good type of those being built throughout the park by resident members of the Tuxedo club. This club, of which Mr. Lorillard is president and principal shareholder, sells to its mem bers building sites, and for those who do not car .» to become residents a club house is about completed, with ICO bed ran ns and every comfort of a first-class hotel. As the chief purpose of this association is the preservation of the health of its mem ber«, every possible variety of outdoor game and sport is provide^! both for sum mer and winter. To retain tiie game with in the park the whole is surrounded by a barbed-wire fence eight feet high, four feet of which from the ground up is cat aud dog proof. If the experiment of this colony at Tuxeilo park should prove successful it will likely b.» the pioneer of many similar efforts of wealthy families to live in communities where they can protect themselves from disagreeable surrounding«. KS. W Uopn a v.