mr. lloyd gone! they could scarcely believe it at baden. lady carabas was in despair, and the duchess of winchester was vexed, for she was fond of flirtation, and she had found mr. lloyd "very nice." the led captains and the other male retainers of both factions looked on gilbert as a dangerous rival, and were rather glad than otherwise that he was out of the way. gone to england, eh? yes. summoned by a telegram on most important business, so dolly clarke said; he happened to be with him at the time the telegram arrived, and so of course knew all about it. on lord ticehurst's business, of course? well, dolly clarke supposed so; in fact, he might go so far as to say "yes," and rather unpleasant business too. lord ticehurst was rather annoyed about it, and so perhaps you would be so good as not to mention it to him? needless to say there were some people who did not believe this statement, even when vouched for on such excellent authority as mr. dolly clarke's. there are some people who will not believe anything. mr. toshington is one of them. he thinks it a "deuced odd story," and sets about to investigate it. he sees the landlord, porter, waiters, hausknechtof the hotel, every individual separately, and puts them through the strictest investigation in the most extraordinary mélangeof languages; finally, he goes to the telegraph-office and ascertains triumphantly that for the herr lloyd, englander, no telegraphic despatch received was. tommy opines that gilbert's absence has reference to some infernal chicanery connected with the turf, and sets that down as the reason why ticehurst is so shy about speaking about it. queer business for peers of the rel-lum to be mixin' up in such matters, tommy thinks, and anythin' but a good sign in these infernal levellin' times. lady carabas is really very sorry. she had a sort of idea that gilbert was "coming round;" but his having gone away in this sudden manner, and gone away without a hint of his going, or word of adieu to her, was a deathblow to that hope. and mr. pennington, the gentlemanly creature creature in the f.o., though charming to look at and pleasant so far as his conversation lasted, was soon exhausted, and was not to be compared with gilbert lloyd as a bright and amusing companion. "he might have thought of me before he went away," lady carabas thought to herself. she had no idea that gilbert lloyd had thought about her, and with considerable earnestness too, as he was walking away from the kursaal in company with mr. dolly clarke, immediately previous to his quitting baden. he had carefully weighed in his mind whether there was any use in getting her to appeal to lord ticehurst in his behalf, founding his appeal on a tremendous story of his innocence and of his being the victim of circumstances, which story he could arrange during the night. but he finally rejected the notion; there was something decisive and pitiless about mr. clarke's manner, which told lloyd it would be useless for him to indulge himself with any hopeful view of the case. as he travelled through the night, and turned all the events of the past days, of the past years, over and over in his mind, during his weary journey, he felt convinced that he had acted wisely in this matter. only one thing annoyed him; if the worst came to the worst, and he was obliged, as clarke had hinted, to go away to australia or america, he should want all the money he could lay his hands on, and he might have "bled" her ladyship for a good round sum. he had letters of hers in his possession, written in all innocence it is true, but quite sufficiently compromising if read from the legal point of view, which ought to have effected that.

when lloyd arrived in london, he did not go to lord ticehurst's house in hill-street, where were all his goods and chattels; he would go there later, he thought, and see what could be done after a careful examination of the books and papers. he drove to a house in duke-street, st. james's, where he had lodged years before; and the landlady of which, looking scarcely a day older, came out to the door, told him his old rooms were vacant, and welcomed him heartily. gilbert lloyd always was popular with his inferiors; it was part of his policy in life to be so, and he took every opportunity of saying polite things to them, and doing them cheap civilities. even now, as he jumped out of the cab, he told mrs. jobson how well she was looking, and how he felt quite pleased at the notion of coming back to the old rooms; and then he bade her take his luggage in, and ran upstairs.

the old rooms! he looked round them, and found them scarcely changed. the furniture was a little shabbier, perhaps, and looking through the window the opposite side of the street seemed, if possible, a little closer than before. the same slippery chintz on the sofa, the same regulation number of chairs, the same portrait of the princess charlotte, at which gertrude had screamed with laughter, and called it a "hideous old thing," the first day he brought her there. gertrude? yes; that was their first lodging after their marriage. he brought her there, and at that instant he seemed to see her as she was when she first entered the little room; how she looked round in surprise, and then ran to the window and knelt and looked up for the sky. the chain of his reflection was broken by the entrance of mrs. jobson, who expressed her delight at seeing him again.

"but, do you know, i did not reckernise you at first, mr. lloyd--i did not, indeed. seeing you alone, i suppose it was. i hope you're not alone in the world, mr. lloyd?--that you've not lost that dear sweet lamb?"

"o no, mrs. jobson, thank you; mrs. lloyd is alive and very well."

"that's good hearing, i'm sure; and grown into a fine woman, i've no doubt. those slight slips of girls with plenty of bone, when they fill out, improve wonderful;" and then mrs. jobson changed the subject, and launched into questions of domestic economy into which it is not necessary to follow her.

and the next day gilbert lloyd prepared to play the last trump-card which he found in his hand when he so carefully examined it on the night he left baden. he had given deep consideration to his plan since, had gone through every detail, had turned and twisted the intended mode of working his scheme, and had definitely, resolved upon the manner in which he would carry it out.

and this was his resolution--to claim his wife. he had calculated exactly all the risk that was contained in that one sentence, and he had determined to brave it, or at all events to pretend to be prepared to brave it. from those few words which gertrude had whispered to him, when in his rashness he had braved her at mrs. stapleton burge's party, he knew that she was mistress of the secret of harvey gore's death. but the question then arose, would she dare to avail herself of the knowledge she possessed? yes, he thought she would, sooner than be forced to return to him. except during the first few months of girlish idolatry, she had never cared for him, and now she had many reasons for positively hating him. the manner in which he had treated her would have been quite enough to a girl of her spirit, without the suspicion of his crime, the position which she had subsequently gained for herself in the world, and--her love for another man. even in the strait in which he found himself, that last thought was sufficient to tempt him to run almost any risk to prevent her being anything to any other man, but to that man above all others in the world.

another question then arose: how much did she know about what had transpired in those accursed brighton lodgings? foxey walker, with all his knowingness, with all the means which he had employed, with all the tremendous inducement he had to endeavour to find out everything, to drag its deepest depths, and expose all he could rake therefrom in the light of day, had only been able to patch up a case of suspicion. so dolly clarke had said. to be sure he, gilbert lloyd, had taken fright at the bogey thus raised, and had run away; but he was taken aback, the charge was brought forward so suddenly, and it was impossible to face the charivariwhich would have risen round him, or to silence the accusation offhand on the spur of the moment. impossible, and not particularly worth his while. he had always thought that the connection between him and lord ticehurst must be brought to an end some day, and had often imagined, more especially during the last few weeks, that it would terminate in a row. well, that could not be helped. he had had wonderfully good pickings for a very long time; and though he had lost all that he had put by in his recent unfortunate speculations, the mine was not yet exhausted, the milch-cow was not yet dry. in the message which clarke had conveyed to him from lord ticehurst, he was directed to go to hill-street, and make up the books and balance the accounts between them; and it was odd if he could not show a considerable balance due in his favour; ay, and claim it too, so long as a portion of his lordship's banking-account was responsive to cheques bearing gilbert lloyd's signature. the question remained then, how much did gertrude know? he could not guess from the few words she had whispered to him that night, for on that occasion also he had taken fright, and rushed off without probing the matter. but if foxey walker could bring forward nothing positive, nothing actually damnatory, the odds were very strongly against gertrude's being able to do so. and it was a great stake he was going in for now. she could always earn a huge income by her voice; but this was not all. this old lord sandilands, who had almost adopted gertrude as his daughter--so, at least, lady carabas had told him, and she ought to know--had the reputation of being immensely rich. he lived so quietly and unostentatiously, that the world insisted he had been putting by two-thirds of his income for years; and he had no relatives to whom to bequeath it. it would therefore probably all be gertrude's, or of course, his identity once established, gertrude's husband's. now, what course would they adopt? would they accept him; let him live with her during the old man's lifetime, and inherit with her at the old man's death? even if all the capital were tied down, the interest would afford a splendid income. or would they offer to buy him off with a sum down and a yearly income? either would do, though the first would be best, for--yes, by jove! much best, for the second would leave gertrude open to the attentions of his brother miles, however, he was in a strait, and could not afford to be particular, unless they fought him, and then--well, he would risk that, and play his last trump-card.

so gilbert lloyd, on the morning after his arrival in london from baden, sat down and wrote a long and elaborate letter to his wife. he told her that from the first he had never ceased to grieve over that unfortunate step which they had taken under the influence of temper and youthful folly. he did not repine; indeed, he had no doubt that the separation had had a properly chastening effect--had given them time and opportunity to see the mistake of indulging in headstrong passion, and had probably rendered them both--he certainly could speak for himself--worthier members of society; but the time, he thought, had arrived when it would be not merely advisable, but proper, to place themselves right with each other and before the world. there existed between them a tie which was far more solemnly obligatory on them than any human-made law,--although he need scarcely point out to his wife that their marriage had never been legally dissolved,--and while both the spiritual and moral contracts were in force it was impossible to shirk their influence. he owned that he had been profoundly touched, on the several occasions on which he had met her recently in society, by the fact that he, her legitimate protector, who should have been at her side, whose proper position was at her right hand, should have had to stand aloof and look on, while others pressed round her, owing to the foolish step they had taken. she would agree with him, he felt sure, that this was a fain position, and one which should be at once set right; and the only way in which that could be done would be by their at once coming together and assuming their proper relations before the world. he, on his part, would not object, if it was thought necessary or advisable, for an entirely fresh marriage between them; that detail could be arranged afterwards. he was writing this in his old lodgings in duke-street, which she would recollect, to which he had first taken her after their marriage. she was a grand damenow, but he did not think he wronged her, or flattered himself, in stating his belief that she had never known more real happiness than when inhabiting those little rooms. might the omen prove propitious!--ever hers, g.l.

"and for a sort of thing that's not the least in my line i don't think that's bad," said gilbert lloyd, as he read it over. "it seems to me to combine the practical with the romantic, a very difficult thing to hit off, and one likely to please both phases of gertrude's character." then he sealed it, and addressed it to miss lambert, to sir giles belwether's care, despatched it, and waited the result.

there must be a clear day at least before he could receive a reply, and that day he found it very difficult to get through. he could not go to hill-street, though there was plenty of work awaiting him there, because on the tone of gertrude's reply to his letter would greatly depend the tone of his conduct towards lord ticehurst. if his wife, no matter from whatever motives of policy, thought it better to yield to his views, he would then be in a position to resent his sudden dismissal, and to speak his plain and unadorned sentiments to his lordship in equally plain and unadorned language. if, on the contrary, gertrude temporised or refused point-blank, and he saw there was no chance of carrying out his wishes, then all he had left him was to go to hill-street to see the very best arrangement he could make for himself, by which he meant to ascertain the largest amount he could draw on the fund for which his signature was good at lord ticehurst's banker's--other available funds he had none--and making the best of his way to australia or america under a feigned name, begin life again de novo.. so he mooned about during the dreary day--it was dreary enough; none of his friends were in london, and the aspect of the town was deserted and wretched in the extreme--and was not sorry when it was time to go home and to bed. the next morning before he was yet up mrs. jobson knocked at his door, and pushed in a letter which had just arrived by the post. lloyd sprang up, and seized it at once. it was a large folded letter, addressed not in gertrude's hand, but in writing which had once been bold and was still large, but a little shaky and tremulous, and was sealed with a coronet and a cipher. gilbert broke it open hurriedly, and read as follows:

"hastings, sept. 26, 186--..

"geoffrey challoner,--for it would be absurd in me to address you by any other name,--the lady who has the inexpressible misfortune of being dressed to her, and has begged me to reply to it. the reply to such a letter could not be confided to fitter hands than those of the lady's father, in which position i stand. the young lady whose professional name is miss grace lambert is my natural daughter; the fact has been duly acknowledged by me, and the first act after the avowal is to champion my daughter's cause against a villain. for you are a villain, geoffrey challoner; though god knows it is with the deepest pain that i write such words of any man bearing your paternal name; for in applying this term to you i am not actuated by a remembrance of the wrongs you have done to gertrude, i am not even thinking of the fearful crime which you committed, and which was revealed to her by your victim with his dying breath on the occasion of your final separation. i am looking back across a gulf of years to the time when the dearest friend i had in the world was your father. now, geoffrey challoner, do you begin to understand? to me your father confided the narrative of the events which ended with your banishment from home, and your erasure from the family annals for ever. that narrative i have by me now. your career has been hitherto so successful, you have gone so long unpunished, that you will be sceptical on this point, but i will prove it to you. that narrative, written in your father's own hand, sets forth your boyish disobedience, your tendency to dissipation, the impossibility to make you think or act rightly; and finally, your awful crime. when you have read thus far you will still cling to the hope that the knowledge of the nature of that crime may have passed into the grave with him whose heart it broke, who never held up his head after its discovery. if any such hope arises in you, it is my duty to stamp it out. geoffrey challoner, in my possession, complete in every detail from its commencement to its frustration, is the story of your attempted fratricide. there can be read, couched in your father's homely, serious, truth-begetting phrases, the record of how you, finding it impossible to undermine your father's confidence in your elder brother by lies and slanders of the most malignant nature, at length determined to step into that brother's position by taking away his life by poison. do you admit the force of my position now, or would you wish the details brought out one by one into the light of day, before the public eye?

"this letter is written in self-defence, or, what is the same thing, in defence of my child. the letter she has received from you, however pleasantly and skilfully worded, was a threat, an order to her to receive you as her husband, a threat as to what she might expect if she refused. now beware. had you been content to leave gertrude unmolested, had you shown the slightest remorse for the horrible crimes, one of which you contemplated, the other which, as i verily believe, you committed, i would have tempered justice with mercy, and left you to the never-failing retribution which your conscience would sooner or later have claimed of you. that is now impossible. by your own act you have prevented my using any such discretion in the matter. you have thrown down the gauntlet, however covertly, and must take the consequences. i have telegraphed to your brother and to my solicitor to come to me at once. i shall place before them your father's narrative, and shall tell them what gertrude has told me. do not flatter yourself with the notion that a wife cannot be a witness against her husband. there is plenty of other evidence, some of which i find has been already worked up; and we shall take such steps as may seem to us advisable..

"sandilands."

"i've knocked twice with mr. lloyd's breakfast, and i can't make him hear," said mrs. jobson to her servant that morning; "and he such a light sleeper too, in general. i'll try once more, and if he don't answer, i'll peep in."

the landlady knocked again, but with no effect; and when she "peeped in" she found gilbert lloyd fallen prone on his face on the floor, with a letter grasped in his stiffened hand.