"What are you thinking about, old man," said Artingale, after a pause. "I was thinking whether the fellow could be bribed to go away." "Oh, yes, easily," said Artingale, "and he'd go and come back next week, and levy blackmail wherever the family went, while the very fact of his having been paid off would give the affair an ugly look if ever we had occasion to drag the scoundrel before the judge." "Then what is to be done?" said Magnus, angrily, "the police must be consulted." "No: won't do," said Artingale, decisively. "Wait a bit, Jemmy, and I'll hit upon some plan. Unfortunately, we live in these degraded times when that fine old institution the press-gang is no more." "This is no time for levity, Harry," said Magnus, bitterly. "Levity! My dear boy, my feelings towards that fellow are full of anything but levity. He nearly killed me, and that is no joke; and--oh! horror of horror! I did not expect this--here's Perry-Morton." He was quite right, for the idol of the early masters' clique was advancing to meet them after failing to see poor Julia, who with throbbing pulses and cheeks now pale, now burning with fever, was sobbing in her sister's arms. PART TWO, CHAPTER SIX. UNSELFISH PROCEEDINGS. "Frightened away? Not a doubt about it," said Artingale. "I feel as if I had been a martyr, and offered myself up as a sacrifice." "Martyr--sacrifice!" cried Cynthia, looking at the speaker keenly, and with her bright little face flushing. "Now, Harry, I'll never forgive you. I'm sure you've been keeping something back. There, see how guilty you look! Oh, shame! shame!" Artingale protested that he had been silent only from the best motives, was accused of deceit and want of confidence, and ended by making a full confession of the whole incident, after which he had to take Cynthia and show her the exact spot before his shuddering little companion condescended to forgive. "And when was this, sir?" "This day month," said Artingale, humbly, "and we have not seen him since. Magnus and I have watched, and searched, and hunted, and done everything possible; but, as I say, I think I have been the sacrifice. He believes he killed me, and is afraid to show." "Perhaps he has committed suicide out of remorse," said Cynthia. "Just the sort of fellow who would," replied Artingale, with a dry look. "Now you are laughing at me," cried Cynthia, pettishly. "I declare, Harry, I believe you are tired of me, and want to quarrel. I've been too easy with you, sir, and ought to have kept you at a distance." More protesting and pardoning took place here, all very nice in their way, but of no interest to any save the parties concerned. "You must get Julie to come out more now," said Artingale. "Tell her there is nothing to mind." "I can't make poor Julie out at all," said Cynthia thoughtfully. "She seems so strange and quiet. That man must have frightened her dreadfully." "Did she tell you about it?"