"I told you, darling, I have really nothing to forgive--but I have a kind of fear of Mr. Longcluse--a fear I can't account for. It began, I think, with that affair that seemed to me like a piece of insanity, and made me angry and bewildered; and then there was a dream, in which I saw such a horrible scene, and fancied he had murdered Richard, and I could not get it out of my head. I suppose I am in a nervous state--and there were other things; and, altogether, I think of him with a kind of horror--and I find that Martha Tansey has an unaccountable dread of him exactly as I have; and even Uncle David says that he has a misgiving about him that he can't get rid of, or explain." "I can't think, however, that he is a ghost or even a malefactor," said Lady May, "or anything worse than a very agreeable, good-natured person. I never knew anything more zealous than his good-nature on the occasion I told you of; and he has always approached you with so much devotion and respect--he seemed to me so sensitive, and to watch your very looks; I really think that a frown from you would have almost killed him." Alice sighs, and looked wearily through the window, as if the subject bored her; and she said listlessly,-- "Oh, yes, he was kind, and gentlemanlike, and sang nicely, I grant you everything; but--there is something ominous about him, and I hate to hear him mentioned, and with my consent I'll never meet him more." Connected with the musical venture which the ladies were discussing, a remarkable person visited London. He had a considerable stake in its success. He was a penurious German, reputed wealthy, who ran over from Paris to complete arrangements about ticket-takers and treasurer, so as to ensure a system of check, such as would make it next to impossible for the gentlemen his partners to rob him. This person was the Baron Vanboeren. Mr. Blount had an intimation of this visit from Paris, and Mr. David Arden invited him to dine, of which invitation he took absolutely no notice; and then Mr. Arden called upon him in his lodging in St. Martin's Lane. There he saw him, this man, possibly the keeper of the secret which he had for twenty years of his life been seeking for. If he had a feudal ideal of this baron, he was disappointed. He beheld a short, thick man, with an enormous head and grizzled hair, coarse pug features, very grimy skin, and a pair of fierce black eyes, that never rested for a moment, and swept the room from corner to corner with a rapid and unsettled glance that was full of fierce energy. "The Baron Vanboeren?" inquires Uncle David courteously. The baron, who is smoking, nods gruffly. "My name is Arden--David Arden. I left my card two days ago, and having heard that your stay was but for a few days, I ventured to send you a very hurried invitation." The baron grunts and nods again. "I wrote a note to beg the pleasure of a very short interview, and you have been so good as to admit me." The baron smokes on.