"Jacques, you must see that room again, quietly. You are very much interested, you know, in those books of travel. When you have a minute there to yourself again, you will take down in turn every volume at each side of that false bookcase, and search closely for hinge or bolt--there must be something of the kind--or keyhole--do you see? Rely upon me, I will not fail to consider the service handsomely. Manage that, if possible, to-day." "I will do all my possible, Monsieur." "I depend upon you, Jacques. Adieu." With a low bow and a smirk, Jacques departed. Monsieur Varbarriere bolted his dressing-room door, and sat down musing mysteriously before his paper. His large, fattish, freckled hand hung down over the arm of the low chair, nearly to the carpet, with his heavy gold pencil-case in its fingers. He heaved one deep, unconscious sigh, as he leaned back. It was not that he quailed before any coming crisis. He was not a soft-hearted or nervous general, and had quite made up his mind. But he was not without good nature in ordinary cases, and the page he was about to open was full of terror and bordered all round with black. Lady Jane Lennox was at that moment seated also before her desk, very pale, and writing a few very grateful and humble lines of thanks to her General--vehement thanks--vehement self-abasement--such as surprised him quite delightfully. He read them over and over, smiling with all his might, under his stiff white moustache, and with a happy moisture in his twinkling grey eyes, and many a murmured apostrophe, "Poor little thing--how pleased she is--poor little Janet!" and resolving how happy they two should be, and how much sunshine was breaking into their world. Monsieur Varbarriere was sitting in deep thought before his desk. "Yes, I think I _may_," was the result of his ruminations. And in his bold clear hand he indited the following letter, which we translate:-- _Private and Confidential._ Marlowe Manor, --th October, 1849. General Lennox. SIR,--I, in the first place, beg you to excuse the apparent presumption of my soliciting a private audience of a gentleman to whom I have the honour to be but so slightly known, and of claiming the protection of an honourable secrecy. The reason of my so doing will be obvious when I say that I have certain circumstances to lay before you which nearly affect your honour. I decline making any detailed statement by letter, nor will I explain my meaning at Marlowe Manor; but if, without _fracas_, you will give me a private meeting, at any place between this and London, I will make it my business to see you, when I shall satisfy you that I have not made this request without the gravest reasons. May I entreat that your reply may be addressed to me, _poste restante_, Slowton. Accept the assurance, &c., &c., &c., H. VARBARRIERE.