Since the little one would occupy her for a few days, Brownie persuaded Adrian to run down to Vallingham Hall to relieve Lady Ruxley’s suspense, and consult with her as the best method of securing her jewels, and of releasing Herbert Randal. It was Saturday that the accident happened, and on Monday he departed for West Malling, where he found Lady Ruxley in her usual health, but feeling very lonely without her companion. She still remained at the Hall, where she said she should stay until the folks returned from Paris, and then they might have their grand doings to themselves and welcome. She had received Brownie’s note that day before their departure for Paris, but she had carefully guarded her secret, thoroughly believing in her, and inwardly triumphing in her good fortune. “I knew they were humbugs from the beginning,” she said, wrathfully, when Adrian told her about the jewels; “but,” and she shook her head sadly, “it’s too bad for Charles to be taken in so.” “I sympathize with your ladyship,” Adrian returned. “But let us hope that he may have his eyes opened before it is too late.” He then related Brownie’s history from beginning to end, and though the old lady felt some uncomfortable twinges of conscience upon hearing that she was the grandniece of that same Mehetabel Douglas who came to such grief in her own house, yet she rejoiced over the young girl’s triumph and good fortune. She sniffed contemptuously when Adrian spoke of his grandfather’s opposition to his marriage. “She has just as good blood in her veins as Royal Dunforth himself, and when he gets his eyes open he’ll be ashamed of being so crotchety. Humph!” she went on, with her irrepressible chuckle; “I told Helen she’d get her pay yet; and I knew that girl was treacherous. What a mongrel she is to appropriate the poor, abused thing’s jewels and wear them!—and they were Meta Douglas’s, too! I thought I had seen them before, but I didn’t say a word, for Helen says I am always poking into other folks’ affairs. And they hid the poor child in that wretched cell, did they?” “Yes; although I do not see how they dared do it,” Adrian replied. “Sir Charles shall know of this, or my tongue will be palsied before I can tell him!” she muttered, angrily, and then demanded: “Who did you say let her out?” Adrian really dreaded relating this portion of his story, lest the shock should be too much for the old lady. He had merely mentioned the fact of Brownie’s being released by some one upon the other side of the cell, but now he broke to her as gently as he could the tale of Lady Randal’s sin in concealing her deformed son. “Has she dared do this cruel thing?” she whispered hoarsely; then added: “I had given her credit during these later years for regretting and repenting of her former wickedness and intrigues, but it seems she is capable of almost anything He—Herbert, did you say his name is?” “Yes; that was what he told my wife.”