with his inheritance and with the world. Humphry Trenchard, an adept at deceiving others, was no bad hand at deceiving himself, and indeed it was a plausible enough belief on his part that by getting his own way he would promote the greatest happiness of the greatest number. He did not, however, carry self-deception so far as to affect in privacy the regret which he had exhibited in Robert Scarth's presence, and after the latter had left him, he rubbed his hands softly, while a bland smile overspread his features.

"Post tot naufragia !" he murmured.

He rang for Bailey and said that he would go out for a drive immediately after luncheon. His own horses, which were in the stables, were brought round for him at the hour that he named, and he tired them in the course of the afternoon, although he kept, the whole time, within the boundaries of the Rixmouth property. There was hardly a farm that he did not visit; he put quick questions to his attendant respecting gates, fences, roofs and walls; he had a kindly word or two for the men, women and children by whom he was greeted. If there was already in his tone a hint of squirearchical affability, they probably did not notice it, having learnt to look upon him as an intermediary between them and the new young squire who had won neither their hearts nor their confidence. It was dark when he returned to the castle, after having spent one of the most enjoyable afternoons of his whole life. Yet he was old and blind and alone, and his income was sufficient to provide for all his needs.

Mr. Trenchard had a bottle of champagne with his dinner that evening. Was it his champagne or Nigel's ? Strictly speaking, it was his host's, he presumed; still he was quite sure that his host (now doubtless being regaled upon pulse and cold water) would wish him to

order anything that he fancied, and he had a fancy for drinking his host's health, as well as Robert Scarth's and Cuthbert Gretton's and his own. In a mood of universal benevolence, he was disposed, like tiny Tim, to exclaim "God bless us all!" It may be that he actually did formulate some such petition on his knees before going to bed; for he was a man of devout habits.

He slept the sleep of the just, and recalled in high good humour, when he awoke in the morning, the events of the previous day. To him, thus serenely occupied, entered Bailey, bearing a tea-tray, and announced, in solemn, lugubrious accents:

"I am very sorry to tell you, sir, that we have had sad news from Knaresby."

"Eh ?—what has happened?" asked Mr. Trenchard, alert and alarmed. "Is Mr. Scarth ill?"

"Worse than that, sir," answered the man, shaking his head, "worse than that, unhappily. Mr. Scarth was found dead in his study after dinner last evening."

"Good God!" shrieked old Humphry, starting up in bed.

There was a poignancy of anguish in his voice which was perhaps even greater than the occasion explained although, to be sure, the dead man had been his most intimate friend. Bailey could not give him many particulars. Failure of the heart was said to have been the cause of death; that was all that an agitated stablelad, who had ridden over with the news, knew about it. Old Humphry, nevertheless, asked many questions while he was being hastily dressed. To the one question which he was longing to ask, but was of course unable to ask, no answer was to be expected, nor, he was afraid, would any be volunteered by the stricken widow and family to whose house he was, as in duty bound, about to betake himself. Had poor Robert

executed and signed a certain document before his terribly sudden end or not? And supposing that, by a cruel stroke of ill fortune he had not, what then? Well might Mr. Trenchard murmur in a trembling voice to his attendant:

"Things sometimes come to pass in this world, Bailey, which are enough to try the faith of the most convinced Christian !"

CHAPTER XXIII

MR. TRENCHARD SHOWS GREAT PATIENCE

ΤΗ

`HE blinds at Knaresby were drawn down when Mr. Trenchard's mail phaeton reached the entrance; the butler who opened the door for him addressed him in a solemn whisper, as servants will at such times, and presently in the semi-darkness of the hall Cuthbert Gretton advanced to meet a visitor whose advent had not been unexpected. Old Humphry was a good deal moved; he took Cuthbert's hand, pressed it and shook his head several times, but was apparently unable to speak. His words, when at last they came, were broken and faltering.

"Ah, my dear boy, it is too terrible!-I am stunned -paralysed. The best and truest friend that ever man had! And he was with me, well and strong and clearheaded, only yesterday-only yesterday!"

Now Cuthbert was honestly shocked and grieved at the death of his uncle, who had in the main been kind to him and by whose unforeseen magnanimity in the matter of his engagement he had been greatly touched; but, either because emotional displays are abhorrent to Englishmen or because he neither liked nor trusted old Humphry, he answered somewhat curtly:

"Yes, it is a very sudden blow to us all. I am sure you will understand that my aunt does not feel equal to seeing you."

"Indeed I do, poor woman!" Mr. Trenchard promptly declared; "I would not for the world intrude upon her in her sorrow. It is selfish of me, I know; but for the moment I have no power to think of anything but my own."

Cuthbert conducted him into the library and, at his request, furnished him with details respecting the calamity which had befallen him and others. His uncle, he said, had complained during dinner of feeling tired and unwell, but had seemed better afterwards.

"He talked for some time about matters of business to me and to Mr. Linklater, who, as perhaps you know, had arrived in the afternoon. It was about half past ten, I think, when we left him in his study, and rather more than an hour later Johnson, the butler, came to tell us that he had found his master in a dead faint. At first when we saw him we hoped it might be only a faint; but long before the doctor came we knew that all was over. He must have died, the doctor said, almost immediately after we left him, and there is every reason to hope that he died without pain."

"Poor Robert!" sighed Mr. Trenchard; "he has been fortunate in the manner of his death, if not in the time of its occurrence. His earthly task, one cannot help feeling, has been left uncompleted. Responsibilities have been thrown upon him recently which, I know, caused him considerable anxiety and about which he consulted me yesterday. He can hardly have had time, I suppose, to discharge them in the way that he proposed to do and which I must confess that I did not personally approve. Perhaps, however, that may be

almost as well."

་

Perhaps so," agreed Cuthbert, tacitly and exasperatingly declining to be pumped.

Mr. Trenchard was not so clumsy as to insist. He