But Austin Clay felt that Mr. Hunter _did_ know; that the description could only apply to Gwinn of Ketterford. Dr. Bevary entwined his arm within his brother-in-law's, and led him from the room. 'James, do you want doctoring?' he inquired, as they entered the one just vacated by Lawyer Gwinn. 'No, I don't. What do you mean?' 'If you don't, you belie your looks; that's all. Can you honestly affirm to me that you are in robust health?' 'I am in good health. There is nothing the matter with me.' 'Then there's something else in the wind. What's the trouble?' A flush rose to the face of Mr. Hunter. 'I am in no trouble that you can relieve; I am quite well. I repeat that I do not understand your meaning.' The doctor gazed at him keenly, and his tone changed to one of solemn earnestness. 'James, I suspect that you _are_ in trouble. Now, I do not wish to pry into it unnecessarily; but I would remind you of the sound wisdom that lies in the good old proverb: "In the multitude of counsellors there is safety."' 'And if there is?' returned Mr. Hunter. 'If you will confide the trouble to me, I will do what I can to help you out of it--_whatever it may be_--to advise with you as to what is best to be done. I am your wife's brother; could you have a truer friend?' 'You are very kind, Bevary. I am in no danger. When I am, I will let you know.' The tone--one of playful mockery--grated on the ear of Dr. Bevary. 'Is it assumed to hide what he dare not betray?' thought he. Mr. Hunter cut the matter short by crossing the yard to the time-keeper's office; and Dr. Bevary went out talking to himself: 'A wilful man must have his own way.' Austin Clay sat up late that night, reading one of the quarterly reviews; he let the time slip by till the clock struck twelve. Mr. and Mrs. Quale had been in bed some time; when nothing was wanted for Mr. Clay, Mrs. Quale was rigid in retiring at ten. Early to bed, and early to rise, was a maxim she was fond of, both in precept and practice. The striking of the church clock aroused him; he closed the book, left it on the table, pulled aside the crimson curtain, and opened the window to look out at the night before going into his chamber. A still, balmy night. The stars shone in the heavens, and Daffodil's Delight, for aught that could be heard or seen just then, seemed almost as peaceful as they. Austin leaned from the window; his thoughts ran not upon the stars or upon the peaceful scene around, but upon the curious trouble which seemed to be overshadowing Mr. Hunter. 'Five thousand pounds!' His ears had caught distinctly the ominous sum. 'Could he have fallen into Lawyer Gwinn's "clutches" to _that_ extent?' There was much in it that Austin could not fathom. Mr. Hunter had hinted at 'bills;' Miss Gwinn had spoken of the 'breaking up of her happy home;' two calamities apparently distinct and apart. And how was it that they were in ignorance of his name, his existence, his----