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[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.] THE IRON HAND. By J. MACLAREN COBBAN, Author of "Pursued by the Law," "The last Aiive," "The Angel of the Covenant," "The Mystery of the Golden Tooth," &c., &e. [COFTBIGHT.] I SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. I CHAPTERS 1. and II.-The scene opens in a ?rio?y shop at Fmborough, where an old Bentlemaa is wishing to buy an ancient ste?i gauntlet. But it is already sold to the manager Z: the County Bank, Mr. Lidmore. After the gentleman's departure Lefroy informs his wife, Julia, but Mr. Lidmore has bought the gdantlet. They plan to leave for London, and afterward, ?0 out for a stroll. During the following night &e gauntlet is stolen. In the morning Le?oy i- iwak^n^l by bearing voices. He thrusts his head «utof the window and finds that the £ °"versatl^ taking place in the room overhead between two u.en oZe of them Mr. Lidmore and it concerns himself. The superintendent of police joins the fwo men and Lefroy hears more. The bank ,afe ba, been robbed, and £ 30,0°0 st^en; Tr^ manager gives details of how he bought the steel eaunttor and of how it was found caught in the ?pof the patent lock. Lefroy is suspected, and fi-o his wife as h? accomplice. He rouses hi* wi? and gives herr ten minutes to get ready. An 3," the coachyard below  DJlne in a high trap to carry Mr. Lidmore 3 "friend" to Re-dbeck-a distance of twenty miles. Lefroy orders a mare for himself and proffers to Wd the mre's head while the ostier goes to tho bar. Lefroy ges nis wife and child into the trap, springs in him-df, and they are off! Sron they hear oriM of "Step thief i CHAPTER III- THE CHESTNUT MARE. -HH Stop ? i- 1 StDP thiet!" Th?  The,.  „d »:.h jnmhr -et, he gathered the reins in one hand, and took h?sei?3 t. ?he ??? ??? ???? ?P?-t flick sent the _a at a ?pank;nl pa,,? :Fortunately .1 u- .-? f?- jj,?, for Lefroy's cnanc^ of( • r.oPrip mere wcic people about, for the early and such -&S were in the streeb were rather puzzled by the an(j frightened cries that souncie mare than incited to by the pace of the. ery mare, than incited to Jy efforts to arrest ti -io man. He made straight for the north and the Red bee* ™ but he ? ?u he rather held the mare in than let her go, tIll he, Iw* as about clear of tne t town. ?i?-.y ?d him pa3t the end of the poli oo_tati?on; b\l ?y then t the e„d of the JKut »d he 'V- had <?-<ii.tance ???g dashed past a bare-headed sergeant without being noted M any.lung but » furious driver, "fhe sergeant, perÜap gazed more curiously and The sergeant, pe"^ gzgJe™oman in the dog- intently when ?s??th,?atthe?  ? her cart with the i \t a baby?) in her arms, was leaning a £ £ man's s houlder in airited? And why •cfctera running away Lefroy had little more than passed the P?olice- i again the cry, Svopbim,. sclatter on j ,t.t.? ?t Mt u?n ,'??,'° ,?? .?t ? SDrne wa.y behind. with the msured clatter on the vi1lg stones of g?allopin,- hoofs. Then he ? niygave the mareo her head, but t4Duchecl 1 h? ?th the whip. To that urgent appeal she responded at onc by laying herself out in a racing gallop, whioh made the do-cart sway and .swing, and bmmd oyer the road like a huge ball. By that time the road had quite loiely; th'ere were no MUses on either u_except on the a great solitary eTlSing out ^pojj tthhe e s'•e'af. ^l-alaft, diiappeared; the road dipped -Rnd r05e; and too, ui* aJi pi eared; the road dipped ■and rose; and as the mare. rove up to t j P0f A full mile of road lay unrolled beneath his eye, with IWthing moving on it but the dust and the shadow of a morning clQud. He had outdistanced horse pursuit as well as ped^trian, and then he set himself to baffle it. He gradually brought tha mare to an casy, swinling pace, that cx>uld have excited ao ocmv ^Tent and he took the next turning westward from the Redbeck-rcad. After three or four m?te3 be turned north again, and .then again west, taking apparently any byways th?t si??we? d tJM?m '? selves open to admit the dog-cart. Julia had re00veroo from her faintness, with mth '■ C?On-idered awhile in silence. When he turned off the highrDad she looked at him, and uttered a low question. Where are we g<?in,?" He aniwered her with an excl to:neit and Hfe answered her with an excitement I wih! apparently, a gla d ness, which surprise d ?' Wa are going," said he, to have a day in the country. Aren't the sunshine and the wind del.ghtM  ?T in the country!" she exchumed in astonishment. "What good will that be? Are vou eoingr mad, N ed, or am I?" I am not ?d' ?li? Ta? quite clear about what we are doing. ??W: have driven og?. ?e said. "with some- one eÜe's horse and trap, and P?P? ^as Us shoutin? 'S?p thief!' didn't they? What doe. it all mean?" ? '?1 w??st goin? to tell you—as I promlsed." said he. The Bank has been robbed. I over- fceard the bank manager and another man and the police superintendent talking about it this morning in the hotel room just over us. The patent safe has been broken open, and tens of thousands of pounds stolen!" "But what has that got to do with usi she asked, while she looked at her husband as if she were sure his mind must be deranrred I "y o'Te heard of the patent lock of the safe, that seized hold of any strange hand that tried to -open it?" he asked. Ye3. Well 7" she answered It held in its grip a steel gauntlet !—our precious gauntlet!—for it is gone from, the window!" said he. "And they think you must have been there with the gauntlet?" she exclaimed. "They think you were the robber?" Just ao," he answered in a. tone of matter-of- fact. But," he reminded him. "you said it was a matrer of life and death for us both and you said you want to send me away. What does that an?I m ?, They think I c?uld not have forced the safe without an accomplice, and they know of only one acoomphce I could have in the world you, my IOTe." w? I'm glad of that," said she, for then I must stay with you. He shook his head "You are very strange to me, Ned, she said, almost in tears. "Why don't you confide alto- gether in me? Have you really done anything we must run away for If you have, tell me., dear; I shan't blame you; I shall only love you and help you. Surely you know that." These words almost moved him to tears in his turn. It is just because I know that, my sweet- heart, said he, that I haven't yet told you all I want to do. I have been afraid you mightn't do as I wish. But you will—won't you?—like a dear, good, obedient wife." You still want me to go away?" said she. "Why?" e>. Because." he answered, if we kept tog-ether we should both be arretted, both tried, and both, perhaps, sentenced—if the case went against us, as it very well might. That would be a double punishment—a treble punishment for me. If you were away safe and well I should cheerfully endure whatever happened but if you were with me it would be a hell of torture to know, and to imagine, all you were suffering. She considered; and she shivered at the prospect. But we have got away together," said she. "Why can't we keep away?" Again he shook his head. We should be caught in a, day or two. Besides, I must try to clear myself. I must face it out." Then," said she, when you've get rid of me you mean to let yourself be caught?" "No," he answered; "when I've done all I want to do to-day, I shall drive back, and give myself up." She turned and looked at him with something of wonder and fear in her eyes. How" —she said-"how can you be so stern with yourself? You'll be stern with me next!" He smiled. "Listen," said he. "This is what I want you to do:—I'll drive you as near to the Junction as I dare; you'll take the train to London, and go and lire at Hammersmith. You remember there are good friends there the money I'll give you will keep you going for a while, and they'll help you to get something to do. I'll write to you as often as I can, 'poste resta te, Hammersmith.' And I think, sweetheart, you'd better take your maiden name again mine might get you into trouble. You will pass again as Miss Julia Galotti." Then," she exclaimed. "vou don't want me to take Baby with me! Oh, Ned, I can't agree to that! My precious!" hugging to her bosom the sleeping bundle. Listen, sweetheart," said Lefroy, in his calm, insistent voice. "I have thought it all over. Baby would be a terrible burden and embarrass- ment to you, especially at first, and would almost certainly lead to your identification as my wife." (She shivered again, as if she felt the hand of the Law upon, her.) And it will probably be only for a little while we need be parted." "What are you going to do with her then? She can't stay with you-if anything happens!" cried the mother. Look round you," answered Lefroy. Don't you see where we are?" MWhy," she said," "this is the road to Culleton isn't it?" It is," he answered. "That's where we going—to my old nurse, Martha. She will take care of the baby till this trouble is past and we can come together again, my love." Julia bared her sleeping baby's face and kissed it softly, while she pressed its form close to her bosom. "What do you think of my proposals, sweet- heart?" asked Lefroy. "Do you agree with them ?" I don't see what else there is for me to do," she answered, in a depressed voice. "I can't think for myself. But," she broke out. "it does seem so bitter! We were so happy last night with. the thought of going back to London, and .now we're in this position—through no fault of un It is too horrible! Perhaps I was too happy I And we should not have gone out for a walk! That must have been when the gauntlet was stolen!" I don't think it was," said her husband, quietly; "but it's no use discussing that." And," she added, the policeman saw us fingering bank-notes when we sat happy on that bench 1 Even that may be brought forward against us! It is too—too horrible! It is more than I can bear!" Her husband reduced the mare's paco to a walk, and putting his arm about his wife and laying her head on his shoulder, he sought to comfort her with calm and cheerful words. Pre- sently she was calmed, if not cheered; and, as he drove the mare on, Julia brooded in silence over her child. They had frequently driven out to Culleton for a refreshing Sunday with the breezes and scents of the moorland, and as they approaohed ti.e place now the memory of those innocent joys came as a refreshment to the spirit, a tonic to tiie nerves. The simple pleasures whioh had been theirs would be theirs again—must be theirs again! And with that mutual promise in their eyes husband and wife looked at each other and silently clasped each the other's hand. Arrived at the little farm on the high moor- land, the time they had together was all too brief. Martha was surprised, but glad, to see them. She was alone in the house, her family being all abroad in the sweet moorland breeze, harvesting crops and gathering peats for the winter. She was easily persuaded to take charge of the baby, and easily satisfied with Lefroy's reasons for the surrender. "Trouble has come upon us, Martha," said he. "You will hear quite soon enough what it is. Julia must go to London, and I must go back to Finborough. I'll make up a parcel of back to F 'n i ?rou g Baby's things—yes, we did come away in a hurry, as you see. But I know y{)U'U believe in me, and will believe in me still, whatever you may hear about me." They ate some breakfast; but their hearts were too full and their mouths too dry for food to taste well. Then they went out into the solitude cf the cpen air to take farewell of each other, under the vast blue canopy of heaven, and, as it were, in the presence of God. Often had they declared to eath other how good it was to be there, on that high moorland, up above the work-a-day world, amid the sweet influences of sun and sky and wind, where the lark trilled aloft and where the dust and grime of the common ways of life and business never seemed to penetrate. They were young to be thus moved, but their married lines had not been cast in pleasant plaoee. They were young,, very young—mere children, indeed, in their experience ot the worid tor he was but four-and-twenty and she was barely turned twenty —ages at which neither men nor women have come to themselves. They went out side by side, she carrying the baby close in her arms, and looking to the full the lovely, gracious, and bountiful mother. Her husband regarded her with hungry, regretful eyes. They sat down on a green bank with the sun upon them, and the scented breeze playing about them. Mum! Mum! Mum!" murmured the baby, digging a chubby hand into her mother's soft neck and foolishly fingering a stray tress of bright hair. A sob rose in the mother's throat, and tears welled in her eyes and brimmed over upon her cheek. Edward took her hand and pressed it. 0 God!" The acutest spasm of the grief of parting was upon him, and it wrung from him that cry; but he set his mouth with a grim resolution, and complained no more. His wife turned her tearful gaze on him. She had probably not guessed till then how terribly his heart was torn. My poor boy!" said she. It must be worse for you than for me!" "Don't let us talk of that!" said he; but he tossed back the tell of black hair from his forehead, and swallowed a hard lump in his- thr-oat. Oh, the pity of it! Oh, the gratuitous cruelty and derision of the fate that had suddenly come upon them! But he strove to shake off the sense of all that. and to talk comfortingly and cheer- fully to the wife of his love. We must be brave and hopeful," said ho. and tr.ed to smile. In lightsome days he had been fond of playing with two French phrases to describe her. "Ma Julie, men adoree!" he had been wont to say; and then, "Ma Julie, ma dorco." So he now murmured in Engish, My JuIi:! My sweetheart! My Juiie! My golden!" She laid her head on his shoulder, and while her bosom heaved under the oppression of grief «he sighed out her love for her husband. "My dear! My dear! Oh my dear!" "You will be aione, Julia!" he murmured. ( Very much a:one! The thought of it all, and of your loneliness, may grow unendurable to you! You may be tempted-overpoweringly temptoo- to love another!" The suggestion was enough. You are my lov-,?r husband!" she an- swered. -1 am yours only !—yours always :-yours for ever! He pressed her choek to his, and kissed her on the mouth, and no more was said. They sat a little while longer, breatilit,- the sweet and vivi- fying air. and humbling their souls before high Heaven. if by any means the terrible fate that threatened them might be averted; but no miracl e happened, and no cancelling or comforting word came out of the blu&, sun-lit void; the heavens I were as little to be entreated by their silent agony of prayer as by the loud demonstration of the priests of Baal on C'armol. "We must go!" said he; and they returned to the house. In a few minutes they were on tha road again, without the baby; and the chestnut mare wa-" trotting swiftly towards the Junction. As they neared the station, Ned Lefroy reduced the mare's pace to a walk. lie drew forth his pocket-book, and handed it to Julia. "You'll find the money in there," said he. "It is not really very much, but it will do for a. while, with care. "Dut." said she, "you are not keeping any for yourself. "Never mind that I don't need a?v, i sad he, with a smile. "If I get off I can easily raise money; if I don't get off--then it doesn't matter And so the question was dropped; and the mare continued her steady progress to the station. To enter the railway bounds the road dipped over the shoulder of a hill. At the top of the slope. within easy view of the station, Lefroy drew up. ';1 think, said he, "this is far enough." ".Must it be, then?" asked Julia, turning tear- ful eyes on him: that was her final appeal. "Is there no other way?" "No other that I can find, Julia," he answered. i He got down, and helped her cut of the dog-cart Pressing her close in his arms when she descended, ha murmured passionately, "My love! My dear!! My own! Be brave! Be stron- I" He handed her the little portmanteau, and j looked long and earnestly into her eyes. j 6he murmured, in a choking voice. ,"No! No!" he exclaimed, fiercely, "Not that! word! God bless you and keep you, my •wn She turned away with burning eyes; and he stood there, a smothered volcano of seething rage and passion, and watched her dear form pass down the slope. Would he over forget how she seemed j to glide down, away from him, and how she Jet the little portmanteau pull at her arm! Not onoe did she turn for a final look; and he thanked her for that. Another demonstration of farewell would have been the touch unendurable; he! would have had to call her back, to stay for ever by his sid,) With greedy unwavering eyes he watched her pass upon the platform, and disappear to get her ticket. When she reappeared, she was followed by j a tall, fair man. who wore heavy, clumping boots, f and who kept his attention rivetted upon her. He i admired her probably; and resentment and jealousy rose and surged in Lefrcy's bosom. Anon the train came in. «julia found a third-class car- riage. The tall, fair man followed in his heavy, dumping boots, and entered the same compart- ment. The door was shut, and the train steamed away. CHAPTER IV. I THE GIRL WITH THE WHITE FACE. Letroy wa.tchcd the train out of sight; and still he continued to gazei at the distant spot where it had disappeared, as if his thought had reached the bounds of the world, and could not be. recalled. At length he took the reins in his nerveless hands, turned the chestnut mare, and let, her trot homo- ward-home-ward for herself, but deathward for h'm, her driver; for his heart was gone, and the clutch of the Law, with all its doubt and cruelty, awaited him in Finborough. It was late in the afternoon when lie, drove into the town. The o'nestnut mare was tired, and went at a slow, swinging trot, so that there was plenty of time for anyone to note his arrival. But no ono noted him, until he entered the street where was his shop. Even there no one stopped him. Here and there a man looked casually, and then looked again as if in surprise, and then stood still. That was all. (JuiÜ quietly he drove into the George Inn yard, to the palpable astonishment of the ostlers. He from wha-e hands Lefroy had tak"n the mare in the morning recovered himself fi. t: and sprang to the beast's head. At the same time the landlord dashed out of the bar-parlour, with wrath on his face, and vituperation ready upon his lips. "So" said he, "you've thought better of it, j and brought the mare back?" "I never meant to d9 nnything els-o," answered Ldro:v. "1 am sorry that urgency compelled nl(> to take it without asking your leave." "You'll have to answer to the police for it," said the landlord, evidentlv hkcn aback by Le- froy s quiet and setf-po?e?sed dGmeanour. "I suppose I shall," said Lefroy. "And you'll have to pav for it. tQO:" rapped out the landlord, determined to be angry. "I? it's not LorsE—a?d trap—stealing it's very near it "Oh. yes. I'll pay for it." answered Lefroy, and turned to enter his house. watched in silence by the men in the yard. He passed into the archway and tried the door. It would not yield. "The police," said one of the men, "have locked the house up." Lefrov hesitated. Then he returned into the yard. He saw that the window from which he had looked in the morning was still open. He entered that way. He cast his eyes round the room, and noted its disordcr-the unmade bed, the tumbled crib of the baby, the open cupboard, and the open chest from which Julia had taken her clothes to oack the small portma-iiteali-and unbidden the old text rose in his memory: "Behold, your houso is left unto you desolate:" Then the sense of his unmerited disaster swept over him again, and he sat down and wept. That did not imply the slightest slackening in his purpose; it was merely the protest of over-taxed nature. Lefroy was as calm and resolute as ever, when, some minutes later, the key sounded in the shop door, the door opened, and a sergeant and two policemen—one of whom was in plain clothes— entered and came towards him. Evidently they had been informed of his return, and had come to arrest him. He did not protest, he did not even question their right to have his keys and to go in and out as they pleased. "You are Edward Lefroy—the man that kept this shop?" said the sergeant. "I am Edward Lefroy," he answered. "I have to arrest you, Mr. Lefroy," said the sergeant, "on a very serious oharge-breakillg into the County Bank in this town." "Yes," said Lefroy, "I've heard something about that. I've heard that a steel gauntlet from my shop has been found in the grip of the safe. But I don't know how it got there. I know only that it was taken from this shop." "I must warn you, Mr. Lefroy," said the sergeant, "that any statement you may make now will be in evidence." "I have no statement to make," said Lefroy, "beyond what I have said." "Where is your wife, Mr. Lefroy?" asked the sergeant, looking around. "She is gone away," answered Lefroy. "Where is she?" "She's not here," answered Lefroy. "That should be enough for you." "It will make your case all the worse, Mr. Lefroy," said the sergeant severely, "that you have hid your wife out of the way." "Never mind that," said Lefroy. "Let us get on with your business." So he was taken into custody. On his giving his word that he would go quietly, he was allowed to' walk in company with the plain-clothes officer, while the sergeant and the uniformed policeman followed a yard or two behind. And thus he passed to the police station without popular demon- stration of any sort. They were interested in Lefroy at the police station, and they were not unkind. They dis- covered that he had scarcely tasted food or drink all day, and they set both before him. He had given no thought to the need for either, but when he saw them, he partook with an appetite. Then he slept—slept calmly and soundly through the night; for he had a clear conscience, Julia was safe in London by then, and he had put away fear for himself. Ho woke early and refreshed; and with the fresh day ho gave fresh consideration to his posi- tion. He knew he should appear before the local bench of magistrates, and that he would be either sent for trial at the next assizes or set free: Set free h3 knew he ought to be, and set free he thought he would be. on going over every fact that could be arrayed against him. But he did not take into account two things—prepossession and prej udice on the part of the magistrates. He had a hint of both as soon as he appeared in court at ten o'clock, and his heart sank under a weight I of misgiving. There was a full bench, for the whole town was talking of the case—talking with a unanimity that Finborough had not known for half a century. So Lefroy in the dock found him- self looking at a row of ten faces, each one of w.hich was charged with suspicion, dislike, and solemn stupidity. To the natives of Finborough and of the country round about all strangers are foreigners, to he avoided and boycotted unless they come as visitors with plenty of money to spend, when they are gladly welcomed, and fleeced. These men on the bench were representative of tho native mind and sentiment. They were mostly tradesmen, and as t ràdesmcn and natives they had regarded Lefroy! with an aversion of peculiar intensity. First of all, they had disliked his name; there was some- thing forei-n-ven French-about it. Next, their wives had hated Lefrcy's wife; she was much too good-looking to be quite respectable. Thirdly, they had all suspected Lefroy himself; he was evi- j dently too well-educated and too well-spoken for his position and ho kept a shop whore he sold outlandish things that were not "marked in plain j figures," but that had quite a speculative and fancy value which gave fine elbow-room for cheat- ing. Therefor: they were prepossessed against him when the cr.me with which he was charged was noised abroad through the town the day be- fore. Their prepossession made them prejudge him. and find him promptly guilty of what was laid to his charge—heinously guilty-for Mr. Lid- more, the bank manager (who was one of them-! selves) had been cruelly rut by the robbery; it had whitened his head, and added twenty years to his life. When Lefroy, then, noted the aces, of these men, he ceased to hope for freedom from them; ho saw he was condemned already. And he was bound to admit dispassionately, when he heard Let forth the presumptive evidence against him, and saw the pathetic and tearful face of Mr. Lidmore in the witness-box, that his case sc-emed one of the worst that could bo conceived. He was one of the very few to whom the bank mana- ger had shewn the secret of his safe; he had been with the bank manager late in the afternoon, and he knew he would be out all the evening; and. moreover, there was the glaring fact that his steel gauntlet had been found in the clutch of the gafe—and there was the gauntlet held up and handed round for inspection. After that the evidence of the policeman, who had seen him and his w.fe fingering bank-notes in the park, did not seem of much consequence. Then his defence, when he came to make 11 seemed even to himself poor and absurd. The steel gauntlet had been stolen. When? He could not quite say; perhaps while he and his wife went out for their walk in the park. But more probably, he thought, after that; for he woke in the middle of the night, and heard a sound (which ha set down to the cat), and just after that he missed the gauntlet when he looked ] for it. and discovered the hole in the shop door. lIe first knew that he was suspected of the robbery from the talk he overheard from the inn room above him. The magistrates smiled grimly; that, and the rest, seemed a cock-and-bull story. If he was calmly and strongly conscious of his innocence, why did he try to escape in the morn- ing? He did not seek to escape, he answered: "If I had wished to escape," he said, "I need not have come back as I did last night." Why then had he made free with the horso and trap, and dri ven madly through the. town? He wished to remove his wife from the disgrace and anxiety of the charge that was impend.ng. Had he given his wife any moaev? He had given her all he had —except a few shillings. Then one of the magis- trate asked a question which plainly deciaied his bias. "What?" he said. "All the thirty thousand? Lefroy hesitated an instant, as if he hardly un- derstood the question; then he answered: "All 1 had was the money I got for the sale of my business, besides a few pounds I had saved." But he SAW clearly that the general impression was that he was a smooth and daring villain who had cleverly contrived to get his wife sent out of the way with all the plunder. The issue was not in doubt for a moment; he was committed for trial at the next Assizes. In the afternoon, when he was on the way to the gaol of the county town, a strange thing hap- pened. ^Together with another prisoner and a couple of policemen he was seated in a third-class carnage in the railway station of Finborough. The train was about to start when the door of the compartment was suddenly plucked open, and a young woinan-a mere slip of a girl, indeed- stepped in. "Here! cried one of the pol icemen. "There's no room here; this is reserved J" "Oh, never mind her," said the other policeman "it's only Sulky Sal-Tippy Haynes's girl. How go OF, it, Sal?" "None the better for seeing" you," said Sal, glowering, and taking possession of the seat im- mediately opposite to Lefroy. Lefroy recognised the girl. She was poorly dressed, but she was notable. She had large dark eyes, and a remarkably7 white face; and he had I seen her sitting in the police-court all the morn- ing, listening to the evidence, and frequently turning her sombre eyes on him. When the door I was locked and the train was started she sat quite stiil. with her eyes cast down. The policeman, who I had greeted her when she entered continued to address to her some gay badinage of his class; but he desisted when he found that she either made no reply at all or retorted quietly in kind. The train rumbled on. stopping at every station the windows were closed, and what with the silence and the heat, first one policeman nodded in slumber and then the other. When there could be no doubt about their being both aound asleep, Sal leaned forward to Lefroy. and, turning her black eyes and white face earnestly upon him, she spoke in a low voice. "I say, I am sorry for you—awful sorry—be- cause I know you ain't done it. Would you liko to know who done iti" she asked with a iferce jerk of the head. "I would!" answered Lefroy. "W eli," she answered, "my father, Tippy Hayncs. was in it. though there was more and bigger nor him that I don't know. But I'll find out, and send you word. I'm going to get out at the next station. I've only come in the train to tell you." "And I can only thank you, my girl," said Lefroy; "I've nothing to give you." "Don't want nothing said she. (To be continued.)

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