"I beg to inform you, in the distinctest terms, that neither Mr. Vandeleur, nor any other gentleman, had any authority from me to enter into any discussion with you, or to make the slightest allusion to subjects upon which Mr. Vandeleur, at your desire, tells me he, this evening, thought fit to converse with you. And I beg, in the most pointed manner, to disavow all connection with, or previous knowledge of, that gentleman's visit and conversation. And I do so lest Mr. Vandeleur's assertion to the same effect should appear imperfect without mine.--I remain, Sir, your obedient servant, "RICHARD ARDEN. "To Walter Longcluse, Esq." "Does any one wait for an answer?" he asked, still smiling. "Yes, Sir: Mr. Thompson, please, Sir." "Very well; ask him to wait a moment," said he, and he wrote as follows:-- "Mr. Longcluse takes the liberty of returning Mr. Arden's letter, and begs to decline any correspondence with him." And this note, with Richard Arden's letter, he enclosed in an envelope, and addressed to that gentleman. While this correspondence, by no means friendly, was proceeding, other letters were interesting, very profoundly, other persons in this drama. Old David Arden had returned early from a ponderous dinner of the magnates of that world which interested him more than the world of fashion, or even of politics, and he was sitting in his study at half-past ten, about a quarter of a mile westward of Mr. Longcluse's house in Bolton Street. Not many letters had come for him by the late post. There were two which he chose to read forthwith. The rest would, in Swift's phrase, keep cool, and he could read them before his breakfast in the morning. The first was a note posted at Islington. He knew his niece's pretty hand. This was an "advice" from Mortlake. The second which he picked up from the little pack was a foreign letter, of more than usual bulk. CHAPTER XLIII. A LETTER AND A SUMMONS. Paris? Yes, he knew the hand well. His face darkened a little with a peculiar anxiety. This he will read first. He draws the candles all together, near the corner of the table at which he sits. He can't have too much light on these formal lines, legible and tall as the letters are. He opens the thin envelope, and reads what follows:-- "DEAR AND HONOURED SIR,