"I don't think it is the question of a betrayal," said Mr. Moss. "She tells you to speak to me, and you have done so. I take the blame on myself, whatever happens. My dear, you are not old enough to understand such matters, and you must leave this to me. Give me the letter, my dear; it will be better in my keeping than in yours. Just consider, Rose; would you have behaved so?" "No, father; I could not." "There is the answer. The odd impression I spoke of was that I saw Ruth to-night in a hansom cab. I thought I was mistaken, but now I am convinced it was she. If I had known what I know now I should have followed her. As for Ruth never forgiving you, what will Mr. Cohen's feelings be toward you when he discovers that you have acted in such a treacherous manner? Ruth is very little older than yourself and, I am afraid, cannot discriminate between right and wrong; she must not be allowed to drag us into a conspiracy against the peace of the family." Rose was dismayed; she had not looked upon it in that light. "Was Ruth alone?" she asked in a faltering voice. "No, she had a gentleman with her. It is a bad business--a bad business. I intended to return to Portsmouth to-morrow, but now I shall remain till the matter is cleared up." "Shall you do anything to-night, father?" "No. I shall do nothing till the morning. I must have time to consider how to act. Mr. Cohen will not be home till past midnight, and he will be jaded with the fatigues of the day. To think that it should turn out so. Good-night, my dear child. Get to bed and try to sleep. It may, after all, turn out better than I expect." But there was very little sleep for Rose this night, and very little, also, for Mr. Moss or Aaron Cohen. The cloud that was gathering was too ominous for repose. CHAPTER XXXV. THE HONORABLE PERCY STORNDALE MAKES AN APPEAL.