“Nonsense, my dear,” Mr. Bingham said, testily, although he really felt grateful for the opportune interference of his wife. “Do be quiet and reasonable. This is Mr. Walker. A very sad business has taken place: his daughter has made away with herself, and he accuses Fred of having seduced her under promise of marriage.” “Oh, you villain!” Mrs. Bingham said, turning again upon Stephen Walker, as he stood impassive before her. “Oh, you bad, story-telling man! My Freddy, indeed! who would not hurt a fly, to be accused of doing such wicked things as this. Richard, go out directly and get a policeman. I am ashamed of you, sitting there doing nothing. Why don't you knock him down, or kick him, or do something?” And then, from indignation and helplessness, Mrs. Bingham sat down and began to cry. By this time Mr. Bingham was sufficiently recovered from his first shock to continue the conversation. “I suppose, Mr. Walker, before you came here to bring forward such a serious accusation as this, you were quite sure of what you are stating?” “Quite,” Stephen Walker said, gravely. “I am heartily sorry, Mr. Walker—more sorry than I can say. Unfortunately, there is nothing that I can say or do to alleviate your distress. Is there anything you can possibly suggest that would afford you any satisfaction?” Stephen Walker waved his hand scornfully. “I called, Mr. Bingham, to tell you this history—to let you know what this son of yours really is. Will you tell him, from me, that I pray God to curse him for the ruin he has brought upon my house. Tell him that, although I am an old, feeble man, unable to save my daughter, I will devote the rest of my life to avenge her. That wherever he goes, with whomsoever he associates, I will take care to let them know this story. The men who work for him I will see; the men he does business with I will write to. He thought me harmless and helpless; he thought me incapable alike of protecting Carry, or of avenging her. He will find out his error. This is the second visit I have paid this morning. I have been to Lowndes Square, and have seen Captain Bradshaw, and your son one day will find that he has paid very, very dear for his frolic.” Thus saying, and without waiting for any reply whatever from Mr. Bingham, Stephen Walker left the room. Mr. Bingham sat in a blank stupor of dismay. “I have been to Captain Bradshaw,” he repeated; “and your son will some day find that he has paid very, very dear for his frolic.” There was no mistaking the meaning of that. As far as his uncle was concerned, Fred was ruined. A splendid fortune was lost in one stroke, and beside this, there was to be a perpetual persecution and scandal. The madman had said that he would follow Fred everywhere, and denounce him to all. This was terrible, and Mr. Bingham leaned back in his chair with a positive groan of dismay. In the meantime Mrs. Bingham continued to cry hysterically.