Dorothy's Double. Volume 1 (of 3)

by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER VIII

  'Mr. Danvers is in the library, sir,' a servant announced at nineo'clock that evening.

  'Will you come down, Dorothy?'

  'No, father, I do not want to hear what is said. No doubt he willsuppose I took the diamonds.'

  'No, no, my dear, you should not say that.'

  'But I do say that, father. When even Captain Hampton was willing enoughto believe me guilty, what can I expect from others?'

  'You are too hard on Ned altogether, Dorothy, a great deal too hard. Hespent a month of his leave entirely in your service, and now because hecould not disbelieve the evidence of his own eyes you turn against him.'

  'I am obliged to him for the trouble he has taken, father, but that isnot what I want at present. I want trust; and I thought that if any onewould have given it to me fully it would have been Ned Hampton, andnothing would have made me doubt him.'

  'Well, my dear,' her father said, dryly, 'you may think so now, but ifyou were to see him filling his pockets out of a bank till, I fancy fora moment your trust in him would waver. However, I will go down toDanvers.'

  He returned at the end of twenty minutes.

  'His advice is the same as that which, as I mentioned this afternoon,Levine gave when I told him of the circumstances, and which I have nodoubt he will repeat when he has further thought the matter over,namely, that unless we can obtain some evidence to support your denial,we have no chance of obtaining a verdict if we go into court. Danverssays that, of course, to those who know you, the idea of your takingthese diamonds is absolutely preposterous; still, as the jury will notknow you, and the public who read the report will not know you, they canonly go by the evidence. He says that trying to look at it as astranger, his opinion would be that it was an extraordinary case, butthat unless we believed thoroughly that you had not taken the things, weshould never have taken so hopeless a case into court. Still, he thinksthat the verdict of those who only look at the outside of things wouldbe that the denial was almost worse than the act. Had it not been forthe unfortunate rumours previously circulated, many people might be ofopinion that it was a case of kleptomania, and that no woman in hersenses would have thus openly carried the things away from a place whereshe was well known.'

  'I see all that, father; the more I have thought it over, the more Ifeel that it is certain that every one will be against me.'

  'Then in that case, Dorothy, why fight a battle we are certain to lose?From the money point of view alone, it would be better to pay thistwenty-five hundred pounds than the twenty-five hundred pounds plus thecosts on both sides, which we might put down roughly at anotherthousand. If we pay it now, the matter may never become public, for evenif the scoundrel was malicious enough to try and get a rumour about itinto one of these so-called society papers I should doubt whether hecould do so. In the last case they got the report, no doubt, from someone in Scotland Yard, but no editor would be mad enough to risk anaction for libel with tremendous damages merely on an anonymous report,or at best, a report given only on the authority of an impecunioushanger-on of the turf. It seems to me, therefore, that we should haveeverything to lose, and nothing to gain, by bringing the matter intocourt.'

  'But the same thing may be done again, father; if they have succeeded sowell now they are sure to try and repeat it.'

  'We might take measures to prevent their doing that. The moment thething is settled we will go down into the country, and when we return totown next season I will get a companion for you--some bright, sensiblewoman, who will not be half her time laid up with headaches, and whowill always go with you whenever you go out; so that were such anattempt made again, you would be in a position to prove conclusivelywhere you were at the time. Danvers suggested that if I pay the money toGilliat I should do so with a written protest, to the effect that I wasconvinced that you had not been in his shop on the day in question, butthat as I was not in a position to prove this I paid the money,reserving to myself the right to reclaim it, should I be at any time ina position to prove that you had not been at his shop on that day, or beable to produce the woman who represented you. Should the matter by anychance ever crop up again, a copy of this protest would be anadvantage.'

  'At any rate, father, I could never marry Lord Halliburn unless thismatter were entirely cleared up; it would be unfair to him in theextreme. He might receive an anonymous letter from these people, and ifhe asked me if it was true, what could I say? He has been greatly upsetby the other business, what would he say did he know that I have beenaccused of theft? That brings us back to the subject of my engagement.You have been thinking it over since lunch, father?'

  'Yes, dear, I have been thinking it over as well as I could, and I againrepeat that the only light in which I can regard it is that of yourhappiness. I quite see that your being engaged to a man in his positiondoes add to the embarrassment and difficulty of the position. We have toconsider not only ourselves but him. Still, that matters after allcomparatively little. Supposing this matter were all cleared upsatisfactorily, how would you stand then? You might then bitterly regretthe step you now want to take.'

  'No, father; up to the time when this trouble first began I don't thinkthat I thought very seriously about it. Lord Halliburn was very nice, Iliked him as much as any man I have met. I suppose I was gratified byhis attentions; every one spoke well of him; I own that I was ratherproud of carrying him off, and it really seemed to me that I was likelyto be very happy with him. Since then I have looked at it in a differentway. I knew, of course, that husbands and wives are supposed to shareeach other's troubles, but it had never really seemed to me that therewas a likelihood of troubles coming into my life. Well, troubles havecome, and with them I have come to look at things differently. To beginwith, I have learnt more of Lord Halliburn's character than I probablyshould have done in all my life if such troubles had not come.

  'I have been disappointed in him. I do not say that in the first matterhe doubted me for an instant--it was not that; but I found out that heis altogether selfish. He has thought all through, not how this affectedme, but how it would affect himself; he has been querulous, exacting,and impatient. Had he been the man I thought him he would have beenkinder and more attentive than before; he would have tried to let everyone see by his manner to me how wholly he trusted me; he would havestriven to make things easier for me; but he has made them much harder.If I held in my hands now the proofs [missing text] against me, I wouldsend them to him and at the same time a letter breaking off myengagement. When I think it over, I am sometimes inclined to be almostgrateful to this trouble, because it has opened my eyes to the fact thatI have been very nearly making a great mistake, and that, had I marriedLord Halliburn, my life might have gone on smoothly enough, but thatthere would never have been any real community of feeling between us. Hewould have regarded me as a useful and, perhaps, an ornamental head tohis house, but I should never have had a home in the true sense of theword, father; that is, a home like this.'

  'Then that is settled, my dear. Now that you have said as much as youhave, we need not say another word on the matter. I must say, frankly,that I have of late come almost to dislike him, and it has several timescost me no inconsiderable effort to keep my temper when I saw howentirely he regarded the matter in a personal light, and how littlethought he gave to the pain and trouble you were going through. I am inno hurry to lose you, my dear, and the thought that it might be a fewmonths has given me many a heartache. And now, how will you do it?--Willyou write to him or see him?'

  'I would rather tell him, father.'

  'You see, dear, both for his sake and your own it must be publicly knownthat the engagement is broken by you, and not by him. It would be veryunfair on him for it to be supposed that he has taken advantage of theserumours to break off his engagement, and it would greatly injure you, aspeople would say that he must have become convinced of their truth.'

  Dorothy nodded. 'I will see him, father. I shall speak to him quitefrankly; I shall tell him that this attack ha
ving been made on me it ispossible that there may be at some future time other troubles from thesame source, and that it would be unfair to him, in his position as amember of the Ministry, for his wife to be made the target of suchattacks. I shall also tell him that quite apart from this, I feel that Iacted too hastily and upon insufficient knowledge of him in acceptinghim; that I am convinced that our marriage would not bring to either ofus that happiness that we have a right to expect. That is all I shallsay, unless he presses me to go into details, and then I shall speakjust as frankly as I have done to you.'

  'Well, dear, I can only say I am heartily glad,' Mr. Hawtrey said,kissing her, 'and am inclined to feel almost grateful to that fellowTruscott for giving me back my little girl again. Of course, I know itmust come some day, but after having been so much to each other for somany years, it is a little trying at first to feel that one is no longerfirst in your affections.'

  'The idea of such a thing, father,' Dorothy said, indignantly, 'as if Iever for a moment put him before you.'

  'Well, if you have not, child, it shows very conclusively that you didnot care for him as a girl should care for a man she is going to marry.I do not say that it is so in many marriages that are, as they term it,arranged in society, but where there is the real, honest love that thereought to be, and such as I hope you will some day feel for some one, hebecomes, as he should become, first in everything.'

  'It seems to me quite impossible, father, that I could love any otherman as I do you.'

  Mr. Hawtrey smiled.

  'I hope you will learn it is very possible, some day, Dorothy. Well, atany rate, this has done away with your chief reason for objecting to mypaying for these diamonds. No doubt I shall hear from Levine some timeto-morrow; at any rate, there is no reason to decide finally for anotherday or two. Gilliat can be in no hurry, and a month's delay may makesome difference in the situation.'

  'Well, dear, is it over?' Mr. Hawtrey asked next day, when Dorothy cameinto his study. 'It was a relief to me when I saw his brougham driveoff, for I knew that you must be having an unpleasant time of it.'

  'Yes; it has not been pleasant, father. He came in looking anxious, ashe generally has done of late, thinking that my request for him to callthis morning meant that there was news of some sort, pleasant orotherwise. I told him at once that I had been seriously thinking overthe matter for some time, and that I had for several reasons come to theconclusion that it would be better that our engagement should terminate,and then gave him my first reason. He was very earnest, and protestedthat as he had never for a moment believed in these rumours he could notsee that there was any reason whatever for breaking off the engagement.I said that I did him full justice in that respect, but that the matterhad certainly been a great source of annoyance to him, and that I wasconvinced of the probability of further trouble of the same kind, andthat as we had been powerless to detect the author of this we might beas powerless in the future. Then I frankly told him that I knew that hishopes were greatly centred in his political career, and that for him tohave a wife who was the subject of a scandal would be a very seriousdrawback to him. He did not attempt to deny this, but then urged that abreach of the engagement at present would be taken to mean that he hadbeen affected by the rumours. I said that full justice should be done tohim in that respect; then, as he still protested--though I am convincedthat at heart he felt relieved--I added that there were certain otherreasons into which I need not go fully; that I thought that I hadaccepted him without sufficient consideration, and that I had graduallycome to feel that we were not altogether suited to each other, and thata wife would always occupy but a secondary position in his thoughts,politics and public business occupying the first. I said that I had beenbrought up perhaps in an old-fashioned way and entertained theold-fashioned idea that a wife should hold the first place.

  'He was disposed to be angry, because, no doubt, he felt that it wasperfectly true. However I said, "Do not be angry, Lord Halliburn. Ishall be very, very sorry if we part other than good friends. I like andesteem you very much, and had it not been for these troubles I shouldnever have thought of breaking my engagement to you. As it is, I amthinking as much of you as of myself. I am convinced I shall havefurther troubles, and perhaps more serious ones. I have already, infact, had some sort of warning of them, and if they come it would makeit much harder for me to bear them were our names associated together,for I feel that your prospects would be seriously injured as well as myown."

  '"You talk it over very calmly and coolly," he said, irritably.

  'I said that I had been thinking it over calmly for a month and more,and that I was sure that it was best for both of us. So at last weparted good friends. I have no doubt it is a relief to him as it is tome, but just at first, I suppose, it was natural that he should beupset. I don't think he had ever thought for a moment of breaking it offhimself, but I am quite sure that if this other thing comes out he willcongratulate himself most heartily. Well, there is an end of that,father.'

  'Yes, my dear; I am sorry, and at the same time I am glad. I don'tthink, dear, that you are the sort of girl who would ever have been veryhappy if you had married without any very real love in the matter. Formy part I can see nothing enviable in the life of a woman who spends herwhole life in what is called Society. Two or three months of gaiety inthe year may be well enough, but to live always in it seems to me one ofthe most wretched ways of spending one's existence. And now, dear, letus change the subject altogether. I think for the next few days you hadbetter go out again. I propose that we leave town at the end of the weekand either go down home or, what would be better, go for a couple ofmonths on the continent. That will give time for the gossip over theengagement being broken off to die out. You did not put off ourengagement to dine at the Deans' to-day?'

  'No, father, I could not write and say two days beforehand that I wasunwell and unable to come.'

  'Very well then, we will go. I always like their dinners, because shecomes from our neighbourhood and one always meets three or four of ourLincolnshire friends.'

  'It is the Botanical this afternoon, father. Shall I go there withCousin Mary?'

  'Do so by all means, dear.'

  As they drove that evening to the Deans', Mr. Hawtrey said, 'I had thatletter from Levine as I was dressing, Dorothy. He goes over nearly thesame ground as Danvers did, and is also of opinion that I should payunder protest, in order that if at any time we can lay our hands on thereal offender, we can claim the return of the money. I shall go round inthe morning and have a talk with Gilliat.'

  Dorothy was more herself than she had been for weeks. Her engagementhad, since her trouble first began, been a greater burden to her thanshe had been willing to admit even to herself. Lord Halliburn had jarredupon her constantly, and she had come almost to dread their dailymeetings.

  At an early stage of her troubles she had thought the matter out, andhad come to the conclusion that she had made a mistake, and was not longin arriving at the determination that she would at the end of the seasonask him to release her from her engagement. Before that she hoped thatthe rumours that had affected him would have died out completely, andwould not necessarily be associated with the termination of theengagement. Had not this fresh trouble arisen, matters would have goneon on their old footing until late in the autumn, but this new troublehad forced her to act at once, and her first thought had been that itwas only fair to him to release him at once. She was surprised now atthe weight that had been lifted from her mind, at the buoyancy ofspirits which she felt. She was almost indifferent as to the othermatter.

  'You are more like yourself than you have been for weeks, Dorothy,' herfather said, during the drive.

  'I feel like a bird that has got out of a cage, father. It was not a badcage, it was very nicely gilt and in all ways a desirable one, still itwas a cage, and I feel very happy indeed in feeling that I am out ofit.'

  Dorothy enjoyed her dinner and laughed and talked merrily with thegentleman who had taken her down. Mrs. Dean rem
arked to her husbandafterwards that the absence of Lord Halliburn, who sent a letter ofregret that important business would prevent his fulfilling hisengagement, did not seem to be any great disappointment to DorothyHawtrey.

  'I never saw her in better spirits, my dear; lately I have been feelingquite anxious about her; she was beginning to look quite worn from thetrouble of those abominable stories.'

  'I expect she feels Halliburn's absence a positive relief,' he said.'You know you remarked, yourself, the last time we saw them out, howglum and sulky he looked, and you said that if you were in her place youwould throw him over without hesitation.'

  'I know I said so, and do you know I wondered at dinner whether she hadnot come to the same conclusion.'

  'Dorothy has lots of spirit,' Mr. Dean said, 'and is quite capable ofkicking over the traces. I should say there is no pluckier rider thanthat girl in all Lincolnshire, and I fancy that a woman who doesn'tflinch from the stiffest jump would not hesitate for a moment inthrowing over even the best match of the season if he offended her. Sheis a dear good girl, is Dorothy Hawtrey, and I don't think that she is abit spoilt by her success this season. I always thought she made amistake in accepting Halliburn; he is not half good enough for her. Hemay be an earl, and an Under-Secretary of State, but he is no more fitto run in harness with Dorothy Hawtrey than he is to fly.'

  When the gentlemen came up after dinner Dorothy made room on the sofa onwhich she was sitting for an old friend who walked across to her. Mr.Singleton was a near neighbour down in Lincolnshire; he was a bachelor,and Dorothy had always been a great pet of his.

  'Well, my dear,' he said, as he took a seat beside her, 'I am heartilyglad to see you looking quite yourself again to-night, and to know thatI have been able to help my little favourite out of a scrape.'

  Dorothy's eyes opened wide. 'To help me out of a scrape, Mr. Singleton!Why, what scrape have you helped me out of?'

  'I beg your pardon, my dear,' he said hastily. 'I told you we wouldnever speak of the matter again, and here I am, like an old fool,bringing it up the very first time I meet you.'

  Dorothy's face paled.

  'Mr. Singleton,' she said, 'I seem to be surrounded by mysteries. Do Iunderstand you to say that you have done me some kindness lately--helpedme out of some scrape?'

  'Well, my dear, those were your own words,' he replied, lookingsurprised in turn; 'but please do not let us say anything more aboutit.'

  Dorothy sat quiet for a minute, then she made a sign to her father, whowas standing at the other side of the room, to come across to her.'Father,' she said, 'will you ask Mr. Singleton to drive home with us; Iam afraid there is some fresh trouble, and, at any rate, I must speak tohim, and this is not the place for questions. Please let us go as soonas the carriage comes. Now, will you please go away, Mr. Singleton, andleave me to myself for a minute or two, for my head is in a whirl?'

  'But, my dear,' he began, but was stopped by an impatient wave ofDorothy's hand.

  'What is it, Singleton?' Mr. Hawtrey asked, as they went across theroom.

  'I am completely puzzled,' he replied; 'what Dorothy means by asking meto come with you, and to answer questions, is a complete mystery to me.Please don't ask me any questions now. I have evidently put my foot intoit somehow, though I have not the least idea how.'

  Ten minutes later the carriage was announced. As she took her place init, Dorothy said, 'Don't ask any questions until we are at home.'

  The two men were far too puzzled to talk on any indifferent subject. Nota word was spoken until they arrived at Chester Square.

  'Has Mrs. Daintree gone to bed?' Dorothy asked the footman.

  'Yes, Miss Hawtrey; she went a quarter of an hour ago.'

  'Are the lights still burning in the drawing-room?'

  'Yes, miss.'

  They went upstairs.

  'Now, Dorothy, what does all this mean?' her father asked, impatiently.

  'That is what we have got to learn, father. Mr. Singleton congratulatedme on having recovered my spirits, and took some credit to himself forhaving helped me out of a scrape. As I do not in the least know what hemeans, I want him to give you and me the particulars.'

  'But, my dear Dorothy,' Mr. Singleton said, 'why on earth do you ask methat question? Surely you cannot wish me to mention anything about thattrifling affair.'

  'But I do, Mr. Singleton. You do not know the position in which I amplaced at present. I am surrounded by mysteries, I am accused of thingsI never did. Now it seems as if there were a fresh one; possibly if youtell us the exact particulars of what you were speaking of it may helpus to get to the bottom of it.'

  'I don't understand it in the least,' Mr. Singleton said, gravely. 'Youare quite sure, Dorothy, that you wish me to repeat before your fatherthe exact details of our interview?'

  'If you please, Mr. Singleton; every little minute particular.'

  'Of course I will do as you wish, my dear,' the old gentleman said,kindly, 'it seems to me madness, but if you really wish it I will do so.If I make any mistake correct me at once. Well, this is the story,Hawtrey. I need not tell you it would never have passed my lips, exceptat Dorothy's request. A short time since, a fortnight or three weeks, Icannot tell you the day exactly, my servant brought me up word that alady wished to see me. She had given no name, but I supposed it was oneof these charity collecting women, so I told her to show her in. To mysurprise it was Miss Dorothy. After shaking hands she sat down, and tomy astonishment burst into tears. It was some time before I could pacifyher, and get her to tell me what was the matter; then she told me thatshe had got into a dreadful scrape, that she dared not tell you, that itwould be ruin to her, and that she had come to me as one of her oldestfriends, to ask me if I could help her to get out of it.

  'Of course, I said I would do anything, and at last, with greatdifficulty, and after another burst of crying, she told me that she musthave a thousand pounds to save her. She said something about wanting topawn some of her jewels, but this would not come to enough. Of course, Ipooh-poohed this, and said that I was very sorry to hear that she hadgot into a scrape, but that a thousand pounds were a trifle to me incomparison to the happiness of the daughter of an old friend. She wasvery reluctant to receive it, and wanted, at least, to pawn her jewelsfor two or three hundred pounds, but I said that that was nonsense, andeventually I drew a cheque for a thousand pounds, which I made payableto Mary Brown or bearer, as I, naturally, did not wish her name toappear at all in the matter.

  'She was most grateful for it. I told her that, of course, I shouldnever allude to the matter again, and that she was not to trouble aboutit in the slightest, for that I had put her down for five thousandpounds in my will and would change the figure to four, so that she wouldonly be getting the money a little earlier than I had intended. Thisevening, unfortunately, I was stupid enough, in saying that I waspleased to see her looking more like her old self, to add that I wasglad to know that I had been the means of helping my little favouriteout of a scrape. It was stupid of me, I admit, to have even thus farbroken my promise never to allude to the thing again, but why she shouldhave insisted upon my telling a story--painful to both of us--to you, isaltogether beyond my comprehension.'

  Mr. Hawtrey was too much astonished to ask any questions, but lookedhelplessly at Dorothy, who said quietly--

  'Thank you for telling the story, Mr. Singleton, and thank you stillmore for so generously coming, as you believed, to my assistance. Youcannot remember exactly which day it was?'

  'No, my dear, but I could see the date on the counterfoil of mycheque-book.'

  'Was it the fifteenth of last month, Mr. Singleton?'

  'Fifteenth? Well, I cannot say exactly, but it would be somewhere aboutthat time.'

  'And about what time of day?'

  'Some time in the afternoon, I know; somewhere between three and four, Ishould say. I know I had not been back long after lunching at theTravellers'. I generally leave there about three, and it is not morethan five minutes' walk up to the Albany
.'

  'Now, father, please tell Mr. Singleton about Gilliat's.'

  'But, Dorothy,' Mr. Singleton exclaimed, when he heard the story, 'it isabsolutely impossible that you could have done such a thing.'

  'It seems to me impossible, Mr. Singleton, but here is the evidence oftwo people that I did do it; and now I have your evidence that on thesame afternoon I came to you and obtained a thousand pounds from you.Either those two men were dreaming or out of their minds, and you weredreaming or out of your mind, or I am out of my mind and do thingsunconsciously. My own belief is that I can account for my wholeafternoon,' and she repeated the details that she had given her fatheras to her movements. 'But even if I could have done these things withoutknowing it, where are the jewels and where is the cheque?'

  'The cheque was presented next day and paid. It came back with my bankbook at the end of the month.'

  'It is not often I go out in the morning,' Dorothy said, 'and I shouldthink I could prove that I did not do so on the morning of the 16th; butI cannot be sure if, in a state of somnambulism or in a sort of trance,I did not call at the jewellers and on you. I might, had I gone out,have changed that cheque in a similar state. That would have been astraightforward thing, but how could I get rid of the jewels? If I hadthem now and wanted to raise money on them I should not have the leastidea how to do so, and I could hardly have carried out such a scheme ina state of unconsciousness. The jewellers say I was dressed in a bluedress with red spots, and I went out in a gown of that pattern on thatday.'

  'I did not notice the dress particularly,' Mr. Singleton said, 'but itwas certainly a blue of some sort. Of course it is quite out of thequestion that you could have done all these things unconsciously; butwhat does it all mean? I am absolutely bewildered.'

  'We have only one theory to account for it, Singleton. We believe, infact we are positively convinced, that there is somewhere a girl soexactly resembling Dorothy that even those who know her well, likeyourself, might take one for the other, and that she and perhaps anaccomplice are taking advantage of this likeness to personate Dorothy.They have even gone the length of having a dress made exactly like hers.I will now tell you the real history of that affair that got into thepapers. You will see that the party we believe to be at the bottom of itwould know, or would have means of finding out, that Gilliat was ourfamily jeweller, and that you were an intimate friend. Our theory isthat revenge as well as plunder was the motive, and that the first partof the affair was simply an endeavour to injure Dorothy, and to suggesta motive for her need of money just at this time.'

  'It is an extraordinary story,' Mr. Singleton said, when he heard itall. 'I cannot doubt that it is as you suggest. That my little Dorothyshould behave in this way is too ridiculous to be believed for a moment;though I own that I should have been ready, if obliged, to swear incourt that it was she who came to me.'

  'Did she wear a veil?' Dorothy asked, suddenly. 'I forgot to ask Mr.Gilliat that.'

  'Yes, she had a veil on and kept it down all the time. It was a warm dayand I rather wondered afterwards at your wearing it, for I do not thinkI ever saw you in a veil. But I supposed that you did not want to beseen coming up to me, and that perhaps you felt that you could tell yourstory more easily behind it.'

  'Was it a thick veil?'

  'No, it seemed to me the usual sort of thing ladies wear.'

  'Did you notice anything particular about the voice?'

  Mr. Singleton thought for a minute. 'I did not notice anything at thetime. Of course it differed from your ordinary voice as I am accustomedto hear it. You see she was crying, with a handkerchief up to her face,and spoke low and hesitatingly. All of which changes the voice. I neverdoubted it was you, you see, and as I had never heard you speak in low,broken tones, sobbing and crying, any difference there may have been didnot strike me.'

  'But altogether, Mr. Singleton, even now that I declare that I was notthe person who called upon you, you can, thinking it over, see nothingthat would lead you to doubt that it was myself.'

  Mr. Singleton shook his head. 'No, Dorothy, I am sorry to say that Icannot. Your word is quite sufficient for me, and I feel as certain thatthis woman was an impostor as if she herself came forward to own it. Thelikeness, however, in figure and in face was extraordinary, although Iadmit that the veil made an alteration in the face. It always does. Ifrequently pass ladies I know well, and if they have thick veils down donot recognise them until they bow and smile. There was just thatdifference between the face and yours as I usually see it. I canremember now that as you, or rather this woman came into the room, I didnot for the first instant recognise her owing to the veil; it was butmomentarily, just the same hesitation I have so often felt before,neither more nor less.'

  'However, it was possible, Mr. Singleton, that the resemblance may nothave been absolutely perfect, and that had she not had a veil on youwould have seen it at once.'

  'That is possible, quite possible,' Mr. Singleton assented.

  'And now, Singleton, as an old friend, tell me what is to be done.To-day we had all but settled that I should pay the value of thosediamonds to Gilliat. Dorothy has been anxious that I should fight thecase, but Levine, into whose hands I put myself, and Danvers, who wouldhave been one of our counsel, were both so strongly of opinion that wehad no chance whatever of getting a verdict, and that it would greatlydamage Dorothy, that I persuaded her to let me pay. But, you see, thisaffair of yours changes the position of affairs altogether. As she hasvictimised you, so she may victimise others of my friends, as well asother tradesmen, and it seems to me that the only way to put a stop tothat will be publicity.'

  'I think, Hawtrey, that the first person to be consulted in the matteris Lord Halliburn. You see this game may go on again in the future oneven a larger scale, for the Countess of Halliburn's orders would befulfilled without a moment's hesitation by any tradesman in London.'

  'There is no need to consult him, Singleton; Dorothy broke off theengagement with him this morning. You need not commiserate her,' he wenton, as Mr. Singleton was about to express his deep regret. 'I may tellyou, as an old friend, that there were perhaps other reasons besidesthese troubles, and that, for myself, I am heartily glad that theengagement is at an end.'

  'Well, if that is the case, I may say I am glad too, Hawtrey. Of course,the match was a good one, but I never altogether fancied it, and hadalways felt some disappointment that my little favourite should be, as Ithought, making a match for position instead of for love. So it wasthat, young lady, and not, as I was fool enough to fancy, getting out ofa money scrape, that made you so bright and like yourself at dinner thisevening?'

  Dorothy smiled faintly.

  'It was getting out of a scrape, you see, Mr. Singleton, although notthe one you thought of. I think you are a little hard on me. I certainlyshould not have accepted Lord Halliburn unless at the time I had thoughtI liked him very much; but I think that during the trouble I had I cameto see that something more than liking is necessary, and that a man whomay be a very pleasant member of society would not necessarily make sopleasant a partner in life.'

  'Well, now as to your advice, Singleton.'

  'I can give none, Hawtrey. The matter is too important and too much outof my line for my opinion to be worth a fig; but I will tell you what Iwill do. It is clear that you must see Levine and tell him about thisaffair; if you write and make an appointment with him to-morrow, say attwelve o'clock, I will call here at half-past eleven and go with you. Ifyou will take my advice you will take Dorothy with you. Levine is prettywell accustomed to read faces, and I think he will be more likely totake our view of the matter when he has once seen her. You may as wellsit down and write a note at once; I will post it as I drive back. Ithink, too, I would write to Danvers and ask him to be there; he is aclever young fellow, and his opinion may help us. While you are writingI will get Dorothy to tell your footman to whistle for a hansom for me.'

  END OF THE FIRST VOLUME

  NEW LIBRARY NOVELS.

  THE ONE TOO M
ANY. By E. Lynn Linton.

  IN DIREST PERIL. By David Christie Murray.

  THE TIGER LILY: a Tale of Two Passions. By G. Manville Fenn.

  THE RED-HOUSE MYSTERY. By Mrs. Hungerford.

  THE COMMON ANCESTOR. By John Hill.

  DOROTHY'S DOUBLE. By G. A. Henty.

  CHRISTINA CHARD. By Mrs. Campbell Praed.