"What will you do then?" asked Cyril. "I will disguise myself" returned Mr. Palsey "I have a heavy green ulster upstairs, which I know Miss Winston has not seen and grey slouch hat; and a false beard which I used when acting a play some time ago and if I put a little walnut juice upon my countenance I think I shall be sufficiently at least to deceive Miss Winston." "Capital" exclaimed Cyril, "put on the things now and see how you look." Mr. Palsey rummaged in his portmanteau and produced the required articles. The beard was a trifle crumpled, but Cyril who was neat handed quickly combed it out and made it look as good as new. Mr. Palsey then put on the ulster and big felt hat and attached the beard to his chin by a bit of elastic. Cyril then applied to his face, and in a minute he was disguised into a fearce foreign looking man. "Its a splended get up" said Cyril, eyeing the villain admiringly. "I wont take it off" said Mr. Palsey opening his purse and taking out ten shillings "I will go straight to the station and wait there, give this money to Mrs. Pollard for me, it what I owe her for the lodgings you know. "Very well" cried Cyril "but you'll have a long wait at the station." "I know" said Mr. Palsey "but I can amuse myself with a few comic papers and a pipe." "So with a hearty shake of the hands the two villains sealed the compact. CHAPTER 14 HOME AGAIN Cyril was very busy all that afternoon; he barely had time to attend Mr. Winston's funeral, which he did however for politeness sake. It was not a grand funeral by any means and I think it would have broken Helen's heart to see the plain unvarnished coffin which her poor father's remains were deposited in. When Cyril returned from the ceremony, he settled his accounts with Mrs. Pollard and then proceeded to pack his portmanteau, which piece of business did not take him very long. He was about to depart from his room, when something lying upon the floor attracted his attention. It was a water coloured painting of Mr. Winston. How Cyril's heart smote him, as he gazed at those calm, stern features and mild blue eyes, with so much trust in their orbs. He hastily shuffled the painting into his pocket, and with something between a groan and a sarcastic laugh, made a rapid retreat down the stair case. Helen was waiting in the hall. She looked a very different girl from the bright rosy faced Helen of a week ago. Her cheeks were white and hollow save for one hectic spot and her great hazel eyes seemed too dark for her face. Her dark hair was limp and uncurled, and her lips were as ashy as her face. She looked a sad little picture, indeed, as she stood there in the hall, with her grey cloak loosly buttoned round her, and her new black crape hat contrasting queerly with her ghost-like countenance. Cyril's heart of stone was quite touched as he saw her looking so vastly changed.