A FEW FACTS CONNECTED WITH THE CASE.

When the two young men left Lincoln's Inn Fields after the momentous interview with Hilliston, they walked on in silence for some distance, each busied with his own thoughts. Like most solitaries, Tait had a habit of speaking aloud, and, unmindful of the presence of Claude, he stopped short at the gate of the New Law Courts to give vent to his feelings.

"It is decidedly suspicious," he said in a low tone, "and quite inexplicable."

"What are you talking about?" asked Claude irritably, whereupon Tait became aware that he was not alone, but nevertheless showed no disposition to balk the question.

"I was thinking of Mr. Hilliston," he returned quietly. "I am not at all satisfied with his conduct. He is hostile to us, Claude."

"Hostile? Impossible! He is doing all in his power to help us."

"So it appears," answered Tait dryly. "Nevertheless I think that he intends to thwart us in our plans—if he can."

"Now you are talking nonsense," said Claude, as they resumed their walk. "Why, he first brought the case under my notice."

"And why? Because he wanted to be beforehand with Mrs. Bezel. If he had not told she would have done so, and naturally enough he wished to be first in the field."

"But I can't think ill of him," protested Larcher. "He has been a second father to me."

"No doubt! There is such a thing as remorse."

"Remorse? You are mad!"

"Not at all. I am suspicious. We will discuss Mr. Hilliston later on, when I will give you my reasons for speaking thus. Meanwhile he has decided to play a game against us!"

"Nonsense! He has no motive."

"Pardon me. I think he has, but what it is I am unable to say—as yet. However, he will make two moves in the game within the next twenty-four hours."

"Indeed," said Claude ironically, "perhaps you can tell me what those two moves will be."

"Certainly," answered Tait serenely. "As to the first, he will call at my rooms to find out if we have gone to see Mrs. Bezel to-night, and——"

"Why at your rooms?"

"Because he thinks you are staying with me. And, moreover, knowing that we are acting together, he knows your movements will coincide with mine."

"Ah! And the second move?"

"He will write you a letter asking you to stay with him at Kensington Gore."

"I don't see what there is suspicious about that," said Claude petulantly.

"I know you don't. But it is my belief that he is afraid of your investigations in this case, and wishes to keep you under his eye."

"But good Heavens, man! he advised me to pursue the matter."

"On the contrary, he advised you to let sleeping dogs lie."

"So he did," cried Claude, with a sudden recollection of the interview. "But why? What harm can my investigations do to him?"

"Ah! That is a difficult question to answer," said Tait reflectingly. "To my mind they will show that Hilliston was not the friend of your father he pretended to be."

"But according to those papers he acted like a friend throughout."

"Yes, according to those papers."

Larcher faced round suddenly, struck by the significance of the remark. He was a clever young man, but could not see clearly before him, and honest himself, was far from suspecting dishonesty in others. Instead of agreeing with Tait in his estimate of Hilliston, he vehemently defended the lawyer.

"You must not speak like that, Tait," he said angrily. "Mr. Hilliston is an honest man, and has been like a father to me. I owe all to him."

"Perhaps you do," retorted Tait significantly. "However, we need not quarrel over the matter. I am content to wait, and will bet you five pounds that the inquiry is made to-night, and the letter is sent to-morrow."

Larcher did not accept the bet thus confidently offered, but walked on stiffly with his head in the air. He was seriously annoyed with Tait for daring to cast an imputation on the character of a man to whom he owed all. Never could he bring himself to believe that Hilliston intended him evil, and deemed that the lawyer, despite his manifest reluctance, would help him by all the means in his power to discover the assassin.

Nevertheless, Tait proved to be in the right. As the two young men passed down the stairs on their way to the theater—whence Tait insisted on taking Claude with a view of distracting his mind—they were met by the porter.

"Beg pardon, sir," addressing himself to Tait, "but a gentleman called some time ago and asked for you and Mr. Larcher."

"Who was he? Why did you not show him up?"

"He would not give his name, sir, and did not wish to come up. He only asked if you had a box for the theater, and when I said you had stalls, drove off."

"Ah! Can you describe his appearance?"

"Not very tall, sir. Clean shaven, with white hair and a red face. Looked like a country gentleman, sir."

"Thank you! that will do," replied Tait quietly, and left the house with Claude.

For a few minutes he enjoyed his companion's astonishment at this proof of Hilliston's double-dealing, and it was not till they were in the cab that he spoke.

"Well," he said, smiling, "was I not right when I said that he would make the first move?"

"You are right so far," muttered Claude, who looked ill at ease, "but I cannot bring myself to suspect my guardian."

"You want another proof, perhaps. Well, we will wait for your invitation to Kensington Gore."

Claude shook his head, and seemed so indisposed to talk that Tait judged it wise to humor his silence. The young man's thoughts were anything but pleasant. He had been accustomed to look up to Hilliston as the model of an English gentleman, honest, honorable, upright, and noble. If, then, this suspicion of Tait's should prove correct,—and the last act of Hilliston certainly gave color to it,—where was he to find honest and honorable men? If Hilliston proved false, then Claude felt he could no longer trust the human race. Still he fought against the supposition, and secretly hoped that the second prophecy of his friend would not be fulfilled.

Alas, for his hopes! At eleven the next morning, while they were discussing the situation, a letter was delivered to Claude by special messenger. It proved to be from Hilliston, and contained a warm invitation for Larcher to take up his abode at the Kensington Gore house. "As you may only be in London for a short period, my dear Claude," wrote his guardian, "my wife and I must see as much of you as possible." With a bitter smile Claude tossed the letter across to Tait.

"You see I was right," said the latter, for the second time, after skimming the note. "Mr. Hilliston is playing a double game. He wishes to keep you under his eye, thinking that, as you trust him, you will keep him informed as to your doings, so that being forewarned he may be forearmed."

"Do you really think he is my enemy, Tait?"

"I am really not prepared to say," replied the little man, with some hesitation. "His behavior of yesterday struck me as suspicious. He seemed unnecessarily agitated, and moreover urged you not to see Mrs. Bezel. Perhaps he thinks she will tell you too much. Taking all these facts into consideration I cannot help thinking that Hilliston is asking you to his house for some motive in connection with our search."

"But he showed me the papers."

"I know that, but as I told you yesterday it was Hobson's choice with him. If he hadn't imparted the information, Mrs. Bezel would have done so. Of two evils he chose the least, and by showing you the papers proved to all outward appearance that he was your firm friend. Should you bring any charge against him, he will meet it by the very argument you have just made use of."

"Good Heavens!" groaned Claude, in despair, "is everybody as treacherous as you think him to be."

"A good number of people are," replied Tait suavely. "A long residence in London does not strengthen one's belief in human nature. It is a city of wild beasts,—of wolves and foxes,—who rend and betray for the gaining of their own ends. If Hilliston is what I believe him to be, we must do our best to baffle him; and so you must continue to be his friend."

"How can I, if he wishes to betray me?"

"Ah, you are so unsophisticated, Claude," said the hardened man of the world; "you betray your feelings too plainly. In this city it is worse than madness to wear your heart on your sleeve. If you are convinced that Hilliston bears you ill——"

"I am not convinced. I can't believe any man would be so base."

"Ah, bah, that is a want of experience," retorted Tait, raising his eyebrows; "I'll pick you out a dozen of my decent friends who are as base or baser than I believe them to be. Respectability is all a question of concealment nowadays, and it must be confessed that your guardian wears his mask very prettily."

"But do you think he is——"

"Never mind what I think," interrupted Tait impatiently. "Hilliston may turn out to be an angel, after all. But his conduct of yesterday and this morning appears to be suspicious, and in dealing with the matters we have in hand it is as well to be careful. Keep your faith in Hilliston if it assists you to continue the friendship. He must suspect nothing."

"Do you then wish me to accept this invitation?"

"No. Why go into the lion's den? Write and thank him and—decline."

"I have no excuse."

"Indeed! Then I will provide you with one. You are engaged to stay with me at Thorston for a month. By the end of that time you will know sufficient of Hilliston to decide for yourself as to the wisdom of accepting or declining his invitation."

"But if we go to Thorston we cannot prosecute our inquiries."

"Yes, we can. I tell you that book, which contains the story of your father's murder, also contains a description of Thorston. I recognize every scene."

"Well?"

"Well," repeated Tait sharply, "can't you see? The author of that book must either live at Thorston or have stayed a few months there. Else he could not have described the village so accurately. We must make inquiries about him there, and should we be fortunate enough to discover him, we must extract his secret."

"What secret?"

"Upon my word, Claude, you are either stupid or cunning. Why, find out where he got his material from. That may put us on the right track. Now, write to Hilliston, and then go up to Hampstead and find out what Mrs. Bezel has to say."

"Won't you come, too?" said Claude, going to the writing desk.

"No. I have my own business to attend to."

"Is it connected with our enterprise?"

"I should think so. It is my intention to call on the firm who published 'A Whim of Fate,' and find out all I can concerning the author. When you return from Mrs. Bezel we will compare notes, and on what information we obtain will depend our future movements."