MR. LONGCLUSE EMPLOYED. The funeral was not to be for some days, and then to be conducted in the quietest manner possible. Sir Reginald was to be buried in a small vault under the little church, whose steeple cast its shadow every sunny evening across the garden-hedges of the "Guy of Warwick," and could be seen to the left from the door of Mortlake Hall, among distant trees. Further it was settled by Richard Arden and his uncle, on putting their heads together, that the funeral was to take place after dark in the evening; and even the undertaker's people were kept in ignorance of the exact day and hour. In the meantime, Mr. Longcluse did not trouble any member of the family with his condolences or inquiries. As a raven perched on a solitary bough surveys the country round, and observes many things--very little noticed himself--so Mr. Longcluse made his observations from his own perch and in his own way. Perhaps he was a little surprised on receiving from Lady May Penrose a note, in the following terms:-- "DEAR MR. LONGCLUSE, "I have just heard something that troubles me; and as I know of no one who would more readily do me a kindness, I hope you won't think me very troublesome if I beg of you to make me a call to-morrow morning, at any time before twelve. "Ever yours sincerely, "MAY PENROSE." Mr. Longcluse smiled darkly, as he read this note again. "It is better to be sought after than to offer one's self." Accordingly, next morning, Mr. Longcluse presented himself in Lady May's drawing-room; and after a little waiting, that good-natured lady entered the room. She liked to make herself miserable about the troubles of her friends, and on this occasion, on entering the door, she lifted her hands and eyes, and quickened her step towards Mr. Longcluse, who advanced a step or two to meet her. "Oh! Mr. Longcluse, it is so kind of you to come," she exclaimed; "I am in such a sea of troubles! and you are such a friend, I know I may tell you. You have heard, of course, of poor Reginald's death. How horribly sudden!--shocking! and dear Alice is so broken by it! He had been, the day before, so cross--poor Reginald, everybody knows he had a temper, poor old soul!--and had made himself so disagreeable to her, and now she is quite miserable, as if it had been her fault. But no matter; it's not about that. Only do you happen to know of people--bankers or something--called Childers and Ballard?" "Oh! dear, yes; Childers and Ballard; they are City people, on 'Change--stockbrokers. They are people you can quite rely on, so far as their solvency is concerned." "Oh! it isn't that. They have not been doing any business for me. It is a very unpleasant thing to speak about, even to a kind friend like you; but I want you to advise what is best to be done; and to ask you, if it is not very unreasonable, to use any influence you can--without trouble, of course, I mean--to prevent anything so distressing as may possibly happen."