“MY DEAR FRED, “If anyone had asked me an hour ago whether I considered you capable of acting like a fool, or a madman, I should have given them one answer; if I were asked now I should give altogether another one. Mr. Walker has been here, having previously visited Captain Bradshaw, to whom he mentioned that his daughter had drowned herself in the Thames, and that you were not altogether unconnected with the circumstance. To me he announced his intention of devoting the rest of his life to the occupation of keeping your friends, acquaintances, and work-people, _au fait_ in the matter. I should say that he is likely to carry out that intention. I make no comment whatever, but should suggest your early return. “Your affectionate father, “R. BINGHAM.” Not a pleasant letter for a man to receive with his breakfast within a fortnight of his wedding-day. Fred Bingham was staying at Cromer when the letter reached him. He was laughing and talking to his young wife as he opened his father's letter; and the first glance at its contents, froze the words on his lips. He never had any colour to speak of, but his face turned a ghastly pallor. The first thought that shot through him was horror at the news of Carry's death. The second was consternation at its consequences to himself. His wife was startled and alarmed at his face; but he made a gesture to her not to mind him, and even in the short fortnight which had elapsed since her marriage, she had learnt that he must be obeyed. Fred Bingham rose from the table and walked to the window; then he came back again, and said,— “I have got some troublesome news from town, Margaret; I shall go out for a walk and think it over. You take your breakfast. I shall have mine when I come back.”