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  There the name of the widow was, unquestionably; figuring for the

  second time in type, in a letter of the gossiping sort, supplied

  by an "Occasional Correspondent," and distinguished by the title

  of "Sayings and Doings in the North." After tattling pleasantly

  of the prospects of the shooting season, of the fashions from

  Paris, of an accident to a tourist, and of a scandal in the

  Scottish Kirk, the writer proceeded to the narrative of a case of

  interest, relating to a marriage in the sphere known (in the

  language of footmen) as the sphere of "high life."

  Considerable sensation (the correspondent announced) had been

  caused in Perth and its neighborhood, by the exposure of an

  anonymous attempt at extortion, of which a lady of distinction

  had lately been made the object. As her name had already been

  publicly mentioned in an application to the magistrates, there

  could be no impropriety in stating that the lady in question was

  Mrs. Glenarm--whose approaching union with the Honorable Geoffrey

  Delamayn was alluded to in another column of the journal.

  Mrs. Glenarm had, it appeared, received an anonymous letter, on

  the first day of her arrival as guest at the house of a friend,

  residing in the neighborhood of Perth. The letter warned her that

  there was an obstacle, of which she was herself probably not

  aware, in the way of her projected marriage with Mr. Geoffrey

  Delamayn. That gentleman had seriously compr omised himself with

  another lady; and the lady would oppose his marriage to Mrs.

  Glenarm, with proof in writing to produce in support of her

  claim. The proof was contained in two letters exchanged between

  the parties, and signed by their names; and the correspondence

  was placed at Mrs. Glenarm's disposal, on two conditions, as

  follows:

  First, that she should offer a sufficiently liberal price to

  induce the present possessor of the letters to part with them.

  Secondly, that she should consent to adopt such a method of

  paying the money as should satisfy the person that he was in no

  danger of finding himself brought within reach of the law. The

  answer to these two proposals was directed to be made through the

  medium of an advertisement in the local newspaper--distinguished

  by this address, "To a Friend in the Dark."

  Certain turns of expression, and one or two mistakes in spelling,

  pointed to this insolent letter as being, in all probability, the

  production of a Scotchman, in the lower ranks of life. Mrs.

  Glenarm had at once shown it to her nearest relative, Captain

  Newenden. The captain had sought legal advice in Perth. It had

  been decided, after due consideration, to insert the

  advertisement demanded, and to take measures to entrap the writer

  of the letter into revealing himself--without, it is needless to

  add, allowing the fellow really to profit by his attempted act of

  extortion.

  The cunning of the "Friend in the Dark" (whoever he might be)

  had, on trying the proposed experiment, proved to be more than a

  match for the lawyers. He had successfully eluded not only the

  snare first set for him, but others subsequently laid. A second,

  and a third, anonymous letter, one more impudent than the other

  had been received by Mrs. Glenarm, assuring that lady and the

  friends who were acting for her that they were only wasting time

  and raising the price which would be asked for the

  correspondence, by the course they were taking. Captain Newenden

  had thereupon, in default of knowing what other course to pursue,

  appealed publicly to the city magistrates, and a reward had been

  offered, under the sanction of the municipal authorities, for the

  discovery of the man. This proceeding also having proved quite

  fruitless, it was understood that the captain had arranged, with

  the concurrence of his English solicitors, to place the matter in

  the hands of an experienced officer of the London police.

  Here, so far as the newspaper correspondent was aware, the affair

  rested for the present.

  It was only necessary to add, that Mrs. Glenarm had left the

  neighborhood of Perth, in order to escape further annoyance; and

  had placed herself under the protection of friends in another

  part of the county. Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn, whose fair fame had

  been assailed (it was needless, the correspondent added in

  parenthesis, to say how groundlessly), was understood to have

  expressed, not only the indignation natural under the

  circumstances but also his extreme regret at not finding himself

  in a position to aid Captain Newenden's efforts to bring the

  anonymous slanderer to justice. The honorable gentleman was, as

  the sporting public were well aware, then in course of strict

  training for his forthcoming appearance at the Fulham Foot-Race.

  So important was it considered that his mind should not be

  harassed by annoyances, in his present responsible position, that

  his trainer and his principal backers had thought it desirable to

  hasten his removal to the neighborhood of Fulham--where the

  exercises which were to prepare him for the race were now being

  continued on the spot.

  "The mystery seems to thicken," said Arnold.

  "Quite the contrary," returned Sir Patrick, briskly. "The mystery

  is clearing fast--thanks to the Glasgow newspaper. I shall be

  spared the trouble of dealing with Bishopriggs for the stolen

  letter. Miss Silvester has gone to Perth, to recover her

  correspondence with Geoffrey Delamayn."

  "Do you think she would recognize it," said Arnold, pointing to

  the newspaper, "in the account given of it here?"

  "Certainly! And she could hardly fail, in my opinion, to get a

  step farther than that. Unless I am entirely mistaken, the

  authorship of the anonymous letters has not mystified _her._"

  "How could she guess at that?"

  "In this way, as I think. Whatever she may have previously

  thought, she must suspect, by this time, that the missing

  correspondence has been stolen, and not lost. Now, there are only

  two persons whom she can think of, as probably guilty of the

  theft--Mrs. Inchbare or Bishopriggs. The newspaper description of

  the style of the anonymous letters declares it to be the style of

  a Scotchman in the lower ranks of life--in other words, points

  plainly to Bishopriggs. You see that? Very well. Now suppose she

  recovers the stolen property. What is likely to happen then? She

  will be more or less than woman if she doesn't make her way next,

  provided with her proofs in writing, to Mrs. Glenarm. She may

  innocently help, or she may innocently frustrate, the end we have

  in view--either way, our course is clear before us again. Our

  interest in communicating with Miss Silvester remains precisely

  the same interest that it was before we received the Glasgow

  newspaper. I propose to wait till Sunday, on the chance that Mr.

  Crum may write again. If we don't hear from him, I shall start

  for Scotland on Monday morning, and take my chance of finding my

  way to Miss Silvester, t
hrough Mrs. Glenarm."

  "Leaving me behind?"

  "Leaving you behind. Somebody must stay with Blanche. After

  having only been a fortnight married, must I remind you of that?"

  "Don't you think Mr. Crum will write before Monday?"

  "It will be such a fortunate circumstance for us, if he does

  write, that I don't venture to anticipate it."

  "You are down on our luck, Sir."

  "I detest slang, Arnold. But slang, I own, expresses my state of

  mind, in this instance, with an accuracy which almost reconciles

  me to the use of it--for once in a way."

  "Every body's luck turns sooner or later," persisted Arnold. "I

  can't help thinking our luck is on the turn at last. Would you

  mind taking a bet, Sir Patrick?"

  "Apply at the stables. I leave betting, as I leave cleaning the

  horses, to my groom."

  With that crabbed answer he closed the conversation for the day.

  The hours passed, and time brought the post again in due

  course--and the post decided in Arnold's favor! Sir Patrick's

  want of confidence in the favoring patronage of Fortune was

  practically rebuked by the arrival of a second letter from the

  Glasgow lawyer on the next day.

  "I have the pleasure of announcing" (Mr. Crum wrote) "that I have

  heard from Miss Silvester, by the next postal delivery ensuing,

  after I had dispatched my letter to Ham Farm. She writes, very

  briefly, to inform me that she has decided on establishing her

  next place of residence in London. The reason assigned for taking

  this step--which she certainly did not contemplate when I last

  saw her--is that she finds herself approaching the end of her

  pecuniary resources. Having already decided on adopting, as a

  means of living, the calling of a concert-singer, she has

  arranged to place her interests in the hands of an old friend of

  her late mother (who appears to have belonged also to the musical

  profession): a dramatic and musical agent long established in the

  metropolis, and well known to her as a trustworthy and

  respectable man. She sends me the name and address of this

  person--a copy of which you will find on the inclosed slip of

  paper--in the event of my having occasion to write to her, before

  she is settled in London. This is the whole substance of her

  letter. I have only to add, that it does not contain the

  slightest allusion to the nature of the errand on which she left

  Glasgow."

  Sir Patrick happened to be alone when he opened Mr. Crum's

  letter.

  His first proceeding, after reading it, was to consult the

  railway time-table hanging in the hall. Having done this, he

  returned to the library--wrote a short note of inquiry, addressed

  to the musical agent--and rang the bell.

  "Miss Silvester is expected in London, Duncan. I want a discreet

  person to communicate with her. You are the person."

  Duncan bowed. Sir Pa trick handed him the note.

  "If you start at once you will be in time to catch the train. Go

  to that address, and inquire for Miss Silvester. If she has

  arrived, give her my compliments, and say I will have the honor

  of calling on her (on Mr. Brinkworth's behalf) at the earliest

  date which she may find it convenient to appoint. Be quick about

  it--and you will have time to get back before the last train.

  Have Mr. and Mrs. Brinkworth returned from their drive?"

  "No, Sir Patrick."

  Pending the return of Arnold and Blanche, Sir Patrick looked at

  Mr. Crum's letter for the second time.

  He was not quite satisfied that the pecuniary motive was really

  the motive at the bottom of Anne's journey south. Remembering

  that Geoffrey's trainers had removed him to the neighborhood of

  London, he was inclined to doubt whether some serious quarrel had

  not taken place between Anne and Mrs. Glenarm--and whether some

  direct appeal to Geoffrey himself might not be in contemplation

  as the result. In that event, Sir Patrick's advice and assistance

  would be placed, without scruple, at Miss Silvester's disposal.

  By asserting her claim, in opposition to the claim of Mrs.

  Glenarm, she was also asserting herself to be an unmarried woman,

  and was thus serving Blanche's interests as well as her own. "I

  owe it to Blanche to help her," thought Sir Patrick. "And I owe

  it to myself to bring Geoffrey Delamayn to a day of reckoning if

  I can."

  The barking of the dogs in the yard announced the return of the

  carriage. Sir Patrick went out to meet Arnold and Blanche at the

  gate, and tell them the news.

  Punctual to the time at which he was expected, the discreet

  Duncan reappeared with a note from the musical agent.

  Miss Silvester had not yet reached London; but she was expected

  to arrive not later than Tuesday in the ensuing week. The agent

  had already been favored with her instructions to pay the

  strictest attention to any commands received from Sir Patrick

  Lundie. He would take care that Sir Patrick's message should be

  given to Miss Silvester as soon as she arrived.

  At last, then, there was news to be relied on! At last there was

  a prospect of seeing her! Blanche was radiant with happiness,

  Arnold was in high spirits for the first time since his return

  from Baden.

  Sir Patrick tried hard to catch the infection of gayety from his

  young friends; but, to his own surprise, not less than to theirs,

  the effort proved fruitless. With the tide of events turning

  decidedly in his favor--relieved of the necessity of taking a

  doubtful journey to Scotland; assured of obtaining his interview

  with Anne in a few days' time--he was out of spirits all through

  the evening.

  "Still down on our luck!" exclaimed Arnold, as he and his host

  finished their last game of billiards, and parted for the night.

  "Surely, we couldn't wish for a more promising prospect than

  _our_ prospect next week?"

  Sir Patrick laid his hand on Arnold's shoulder.

  "Let us look indulgently together," he said, in his whimsically

  grave way, "at the humiliating spectacle of an old man's folly. I

  feel, at this moment, Arnold, as if I would give every thing that

  I possess in the world to have passed over next week, and to be

  landed safely in the time beyond it."

  "But why?"

  "There is the folly! I can't tell why. With every reason to be in

  better spirits than usual, I am unaccountably, irrationally,

  invincibly depressed. What are we to conclude from that? Am I the

  object of a supernatural warning of misfortune to come? Or am I

  the object of a temporary derangement of the functions of the

  liver? There is the question. Who is to decide it? How

  contemptible is humanity, Arnold, rightly understood! Give me my

  candle, and let's hope it's the liver."

  EIGHTH SCENE--THE PANTRY.

  CHAPTER THE THIRTY-NINTH.

  ANNE WINS A VICTORY.

  ON a certain evening in the month of September (at that period of

  the month when Arnold and Blanche were traveling back from Baden

  to Ham Farm) an ancient man--with one
eye filmy and blind, and

  one eye moist and merry--sat alone in the pantry of the Harp of

  Scotland Inn, Perth, pounding the sugar softly in a glass of

  whisky-punch. He has hitherto been personally distinguished in

  these pages as the self-appointed father of Anne Silvester and

  the humble servant of Blanche at the dance at Swanhaven Lodge. He

  now dawns on the view in amicable relations with a third

  lady--and assumes the mystic character of Mrs. Glenarm's "Friend

  in the Dark."

  Arriving in Perth the day after the festivities at Swanhaven,

  Bishopriggs proceeded to the Harp of Scotland--at which

  establishment for the reception of travelers he possessed the

  advantage of being known to the landlord as Mrs. Inchbare's

  right-hand man, and of standing high on the head-waiter's list of

  old and intimate friends.

  Inquiring for the waiter first by the name of Thomas (otherwise

  Tammy) Pennyquick, Bishopriggs found his friend in sore distress

  of body and mind. Contending vainly against the disabling

  advances of rheumatism, Thomas Pennyquick ruefully contemplated

  the prospect of being laid up at home by a long illness--with a

  wife and children to support, and with the emoluments attached to

  his position passing into the pockets of the first stranger who

  could be found to occupy his place at the inn.

  Hearing this doleful story, Bishopriggs cunningly saw his way to

  serving his own private interests by performing the part of

  Thomas Pennyquick's generous and devoted friend.

  He forthwith offered to fill the place, without taking the

  emoluments, of the invalided headwaiter--on the understanding, as

  a matter of course, that the landlord consented to board and

  lodge him free of expense at the inn. The landlord having readily

  accepted this condition, Thomas Pennyquick retired to the bosom

  of his family. And there was Bishopriggs, doubly secured behind a

  respectable position and a virtuous action against all likelihood

  of suspicion falling on him as a stranger in Perth--in the event

  of his correspondence with Mrs. Glenarm being made the object of

  legal investigation on the part of her friends!

  Having opened the campaign in this masterly manner, the same

  sagacious foresight had distinguished the operations of

  Bishopriggs throughout.

  His correspondence with Mrs. Glenarm was invariably written with

  the left hand--the writing thus produced defying detection, in

  all cases, as bearing no resemblance of character whatever to

  writing produced by persons who habitually use the other hand. A

  no less far-sighted cunning distinguished his proceedings in

  answering the advertisements which the lawyers duly inserted in

  the newspaper. He appointed hours at which he was employed on

  business-errands for the inn, and places which lay on the way to

  those errands, for his meetings with Mrs. Glenarm's

  representatives: a pass-word being determined on, as usual in

  such cases, by exchanging which the persons concerned could

  discover each other. However carefully the lawyers might set the

  snare--whether they had their necessary "witness" disguised as an

  artist sketching in the neighborhood, or as an old woman selling

  fruit, or what not--the wary eye of Bishopriggs detected it. He

  left the pass-word unspoken; he went his way on his errand; he

  was followed on suspicion; and he was discovered to be only "a

  respectable person," charged with a message by the landlord of

  the Harp of Scotland Inn!

  To a man intrenched behind such precautions as these, the chance

  of being detected might well be reckoned among the last of all

  the chances that could possibly happen.

  Discovery was, nevertheless, advancing on Bishopriggs from a

  quarter which had not been included in his calculations. Anne

  Silvester was in Perth; forewarned by the newspaper (as Sir

  Patrick had guessed) that the letters offered to Mrs. Glenarm

  were the letters between Geoffrey and herself, which she had lost