ON THE TRACK.

It was nearly six o'clock when Claude returned to Earls Street, and Tait, already dressed for the evening, was waiting his arrival with considerable impatience. His usual imperturbability had given place to a self-satisfied air, as though he had succeeded in accomplishing a difficult undertaking. He uttered a joyful exclamation when he saw Claude enter, but a look of apprehension passed over his face when he noted the altered appearance of his friend.

"What is wrong?" he asked, as Claude threw himself into a chair, with a sigh of fatigue. "Do you bring bad news? My dear fellow, you are completely worn out. Here, Dormer, a glass of sherry for Mr. Larcher."

The servant, who was putting the finishing touches to the dinner-table, speedily obeyed this order, and Tait made his friend drink the wine without delay. Then he proceeded to question him regarding the reason of his pallor, but with his usual caution first sent Dormer out of the room. Only when they were alone did he venture to speak on the subject about which both were thinking.

"Well!" he demanded anxiously, "you saw Mrs. Bezel?"

"Yes; I was with her for two hours."

"Ah!" said Tait, with great satisfaction; "she must have told you a good deal in that time."

"She did. She told me more than I expected."

"Did it concern your parents?"

"It did."

"Good! Then you no doubt heard her version of the crime."

"Yes!"

These unsatisfactory replies, which dropped so strangely from Larcher's lips, at once puzzled and irritated the questioner.

"You don't seem anxious to confide in me," he said, in a piqued tone.

"I will tell you all. I am anxious to tell you all," replied Larcher, finding his tongue, "but I do not know how to begin."

"Oh, I shall save you that trouble by asking you questions. In the first place, who is Mrs. Bezel?"

"My mother!"

Tait bounded from his chair with an expression of incredulity. This unexpected information, so abruptly conveyed, was too much for his self-control.

"Your mother!" he stammered, hardly thinking he had heard aright. "Are you in earnest? I cannot believe it. According to the notice in the newspapers, according to Hilliston, your mother died in London in 1867."

"She did not die. Her death was a feigned one, to escape the notoriety gained by her trial at Canterbury."

"Did Mr. Hilliston know she was alive?"

"Yes. It was by his advice that she changed her name."

"Oh! Oh!" said Tait, with marked significance; "Hilliston knew, Hilliston advised. Humph! John Parver may be right, after all."

"Tait, be silent! You are speaking of my mother."

"I beg your pardon, my dear fellow, but I really do not understand."

"You will shortly. I will tell you the story of my mother's troubles, and Hilliston's kindness."

"Hilliston's kindness," repeated Tait, in a skeptical tone. Nevertheless he resumed his seat, and signified his willingness to hear the narrative.

The wine had done Claude good, and restored his self-possession; so, now master of himself, he related all that had passed between himself and Mrs. Bezel. Gifted with a retentive memory, and no mean powers as a narrator, he succeeded in giving Tait a vivid impression of the conversation. The little man, with his head slightly on one side, like a bright-eyed sparrow, listened attentively, and not till the story was finished did he make an observation thereon. To this capability of listening without interruption Tait owed a great deal of his popularity.

"Truth is stranger than fiction, after all," said he, when Claude ended; "and the novel is less dramatic than the episode of real life. John Parver did not dare to insinuate that the supposed dead widow of the murdered man was alive. Humph! this complicates matters more than ever."

"At least it clears the character of Hilliston."

"Yes," assented Tait doubtfully; "I suppose it does."

"Can you doubt it?" said Larcher, dissatisfied with this grudging consent. "You can now see why Hilliston was agitated at our interview; why he asked me not to see Mrs. Bezel, so-called; why he called here the same evening to find out if I had gone; and finally why he wished to prepare me before seeing her, by telling of the tragedy."

"Oh, I see all that," said Tait quietly. "Nine men out of ten would consider Hilliston a most disinterested person. But I am the tenth man, and am therefore skeptical of his motive."

"But what motive can he have for——"

"That is just it," interrupted Tait vivaciously. "I can't see his motive, but I will find it out some day."

"Well, you can speak for yourself," said Claude, frowning. "After what my mother has told me, I believe Hilliston to be an upright and honorable man."

"You are quite right to do so on the evidence. Still, if I were you I would not keep him informed of all our movements, unless——Do you intend to go on with the matter?" he asked abruptly.

"Assuredly! I am determined to find out who killed my father."

Tait walked to the fireplace and took up his position on the hearth-rug. An idea had entered his mind, which he did not intend to put into words. Nevertheless it was indirectly the reason for his next speech.

"I think, after all, it would be best to take Hilliston's advice, and let sleeping dogs lie."

He had not calculated the effect of these words on his hearer, for Claude also arose from his chair, and looked at him with angry surprise.

"I don't understand you," he said coldly. "Some hours back, and you were more eager than I to pursue this unknown criminal. Now you wish to withdraw. May I ask the reason of this sudden change."

"It seems to be useless to hope to find the assassin," replied Tait, shrugging his shoulders. "One cannot discover a needle in a haystack."

"Oh, yes you can—by patient research."

"Well, even that would be easier than to hope to solve a mystery which has been impenetrable for five-and-twenty years."

"It has been impenetrable for that time because no one has tried to solve it. This is not your real reason for wishing to end the case. What is your reason? Speak! I insist upon knowing the truth."

The other did not reply, but thrust his hands deeper into his pockets, and maintained a masterly silence. Irritated by this negative attitude, Claude placed his hands on the little man's shoulders and looked at him indignantly.

"I know what your reason is, Tait," he said rapidly; "it is not that you fear we may learn too little, but that you expect we will learn too much."

"Yes," replied Tait simply, "that is the reason. Is it not an all-sufficient one for you to pause?"

"No!" shouted Claude savagely; "it is all-sufficient for me to go on. You think that I may discover that Hilliston is the criminal, or learn that my mother is accountable for the crime. I tell you no such thing will happen. Hilliston was not near The Laurels on the fatal morning. My mother—I have told you how she exonerated herself, and the exoneration was substantiated by Denis Bantry. Both are innocent."

"It may be so. But who is guilty?"

"Jeringham. I believe that he discovered that my father had returned, and perhaps knowing of this intrigue between him and Mona Bantry, remained at The Laurels, unknown to my mother, in order to assist her as a friend."

"How did Jeringham obtain possession of the dagger?"

"I cannot say. We must find out. But he did obtain possession of the dagger, and during a quarrel with my father killed him with it. He fled to avoid the consequences. Oh, yes! I swear that Jeringham is guilty. But I will hunt him down, if I have to do it alone."

"You will not do it alone," said Tait quietly. "I am with you still."

"But you said——"

"I know what I said! I think it is best to leave well alone. But since you are set on learning the truth, I will help you to the best of my ability. Only," added Tait explicitly, "should you discover the truth to be unpalatable, do not blame me."

"I won't blame you. I am certain that you will find that I am right, and that Hilliston and my mother had nothing to do with the affair. Help me, that is all I ask. I will bear the consequences."

"Very good! Then we had better get to work," said Tait dryly. "Just go and dress, my dear fellow, or you'll keep dinner waiting."

"Why should I dress? I am not going out to-night."

"Indeed you are! We are due at Mrs. Durham's 'At Home' at ten o'clock."

"I shan't go. I am in no mood for frivolity. I would rather stay at home and think over the case. It is only by hard work that we can hope to learn the truth."

"Very true. At the same time it is necessary for you to go out to-night, if only to meet with John Parver."

"The author of 'A Whim of Fate,'" asked Claude eagerly, "is he in town?"

"Yes. And he will be at Mrs. Durham's to-night. We must see him, and find out where he obtained the materials for his novel."

"Do you think such information will lead to any result?" asked Claude dubiously.

"I don't think. I am sure of it," retorted Tait impatiently. "Now go and dress."

Larcher departed without a word.