THE ORIGINAL OF THE PORTRAIT.

Claude Larcher was blessed with the best of tempers, and strongly gifted with self-control. He found these virtues very necessary in his profession, especially when in command of a body of men in the wilds. There no trouble ruffled him, no disappointment depressed his spirits; he was always serene and amiable, so that among his comrades his good temper had become proverbial. Had they seen him at this moment they would have found reason to alter their opinion.

The case wore out his patience; he saw no end to the complications arising therefrom. No sooner was one obstacle surmounted than another blocked up the path. But for Tait he would have taken Hilliston's advice long ago, and let the matter lie; but the little man was bent on solving this particularly tantalizing mystery, and so urged his friend to persevere in what seemed to be futile attempts. So far Claude had held to his resolve, but this last letter of Tait's with its budget of new complications threw him into a rage. He vowed that he would throw up the matter as soon as Tait returned. His father was dead, and there was an end of it; after five-and-twenty years nothing whatever could be discovered; and above all there was Jenny.

Claude was too clear-sighted to disguise from himself the fact that he was in love; and now enlightened by Mrs. Hilliston regarding the feelings of the young lady, he was doubly anxious to make her his wife. Before he could do so he had to remove an obstacle in the shape of her father, and that was no easy matter. Who Mr. Paynton was he did not know; whether he was implicated in the Larcher affair he could not guess; but of one thing he was certain: that Mr. Paynton resented his prosecution of the case. While he continued to investigate the mystery the recluse would continue inimical, and would therefore refuse to permit him to pay attentions to his daughter.

Regarding Linton and his love, Claude had no fears. He had been assured by Mrs. Hilliston that Jenny liked him best, and taking advantage of the hint he had thrown himself as frequently as possible into the society of his beloved. Did Jenny go to the vicarage, Claude was there under the pretense of questioning the clergyman concerning the architecture of the church; did she practice on the organ, Claude was always waiting at the door to carry her music-book to Rose Cottage. A walk in the morning, he was in the vicinity; a stroll in the evening, and he appeared unexpectedly round the nearest corner. In driving, riding, walking, visiting, this persistent young man was constantly to be found near Miss Jenny Paynton. All this meant infatuation.

Availing himself of the opportunities thus afforded, he learned her secret, and betrayed his own. Without a word being said on either side—with the shadow of the case between them—these two young people fell in love with one another. When Tait returned two days after his last letter, he was confronted by Claude with the intimation that he wished to stop further investigations. Tait, who was devoured by an unappeasable curiosity to find out the truth, resented this backsliding, and told Claude his opinion very plainly. But for their long friendship they would have quarreled over the matter; as it was Tait argued out the question, and induced Claude to come round to his way of thinking. But it was a hard task.

"You are not going to turn back after putting your hand to the plow?" he said, when Claude first broached the subject of abandoning the case.

"Why not, if the plow won't move?" returned the young man flippantly.

"The plow will move," returned Tait vehemently. "You got my last letter?"

"I did. But I don't see that it contains anything likely to elucidate the mystery. Your Dick Pental is a madman; your Miss Pike an untrustworthy gossip."

"That is your opinion, not mine. I have made a discovery since writing my last letter, of which I have not yet had time to inform you."

"What is it?"

"I'll tell you later on. Meanwhile is it on account of this girl that you have decided to abandon the case?"

"Partly, and partly because I think we are wasting time. Our investigation can lead to no result."

"We may find out who killed your father."

"I doubt that," replied Larcher coolly. "You suspect Hilliston; you suspect Jeringham; you suspect Mona Bantry. Why, in your last letter you hinted at the guilt of Denis, simply because a drunken lunatic told you a wild story; yet, so far as I can see, you have not a morsel of evidence against any one of the four."

"You are wrong," said Tait, in an argumentative manner. "The misfortune is that there is too much evidence against them all. I could furnish you with a case against each which—so far as circumstantial evidence is concerned—would convince you of their individual guilt."

"Theory, Tait, theory!"

"We'll prove that soon, my boy," said Tait, with exasperating coolness, "if you back out of the case, I at least am determined to see it through. I suppose you are bent on marrying the young lady."

"If she'll have me—yes."

"Humph! There's another obstacle which you have overlooked. The consent of her father—our mysterious friend, Paynton."

"I have not overlooked the obstacle. I will obtain his consent from his own lips."

"And how do you intend to see him?"

"Through the agency of Mr. Hilliston," replied Larcher calmly. "He has agreed to introduce me to Paynton to-morrow. Here is his letter."

The little man fairly bounded from his chair, and he took the letter from his friend's hand with an air of bewilderment. After mastering the contents he returned it with a satisfied nod.

"I congratulate you, Claude," he said, with a good-humored air. "Though you failed with the man, you may succeed with the matter. But how in the name of Olympian Jove did you induce Hilliston to do this?"

"Why, he saw that I was in love with Jenny, and for some inexplicable reason has agreed to forward my suit, by introducing me to plead my cause with the father."

"Not so inexplicable as you think," said Tait sagaciously. "I see his idea. He thinks you will be so occupied with love-making as to abandon the case."

"I don't know that he isn't right."

"Oh, I see you are bent on getting quit of the matter, Claude. But," and Tait shook a reproving forefinger, "you will change your mind after this interview with our hermit friend."

"Why so?"

"You will learn something which will astonish you. I only wish I could be present with you to see what occurs."

"But if I make no reference to the case," said Larcher seriously.

Tait waxed indignant on the instant, and spoke his mind freely. "Claude, my friend, I went into this matter solely on your account, and you owe it to me to see it through. If you find further investigation a bar to your marriage I will agree to let the matter drop. But first," added Tait, with emphasis, "you must make an effort to get the truth out of this man. Swear to him that you are resolved to push the matter to the end. Tell him that I have learned something new at Horriston. Mention the name of Louisa Sinclair. Then see the result. After hearing the story of Dicky Pental I am convinced that this man is Jeringham."

"I will do all you say," replied Claude, after some hesitation, "but I am afraid that my pertinacity in this matter will prejudice my wooing."

"If, at the end of the interview, you see that, withdraw your intention to go on with the case. Then out of gratitude he may give you his daughter. Bluff him first—yield afterward. In that way we may discover who Paynton is—what he has to do with the case, and why he is connected with Hilliston. Do you agree? Good! Give me your hand on that."

The two men shook hands, though it was not without a secret qualm that Claude thus sealed the compact. After a pause he said:

"And who is this Louisa Sinclair you make such a point of my mentioning to Paynton?"

"Ah! That is my discovery," said Tait, rubbing his hands. "When I interviewed Mrs. Bezel I showed her a portrait of Mrs. Hilliston, whom curiously enough she had never seen—no doubt Hilliston has his reasons therefor. She seemed startled, but said nothing. Then she wrote to you about Louisa Sinclair."

"But what has Louisa Sinclair to do with Mrs. Hilliston?"

"Can't you guess? Miss Pike showed me a portrait of Louisa Sinclair taken twenty-five years ago. I did not then wonder at Mrs. Bezel's start, or that Hilliston had refrained from letting her see the picture of his wife. In a word, Louisa Sinclair and Mrs. Hilliston are one and the same woman."

"Ah!" cried Claude, with a sudden recollection, "it was for that she was so afraid of your going to Horriston."

"Yes. She thought I might learn too much. This is the beginning of the end, Claude."

"What! Do you think Mrs. Hilliston knows anything of the case?"

"According to your mother she knows a good deal. According to Miss Pike she is in possession of certain facts. Yes, I think Mrs. Hilliston can help us if she will."

"But, my dear Tait," said Claude quietly, "Mrs. Hilliston is an American."

"Ah! Louisa Sinclair went to America, and probably became a naturalized subject of the Stars and Stripes."

"But," objected Larcher, "she was a widow when she married Hilliston."

"So I believe. A Mrs. Derrick. No doubt she came by all her money through that first marriage. Oh, I can put the puzzle easily together. No wonder Hilliston wanted the case dropped, both on his own account and on that of his wife."

"What do you mean, Tait? Do you suspect that——"

"Say no more," said Tait, rising, "I will tell you what I mean after you have seen Paynton. But then," added he significantly, "I don't think you will need any explanation."