After a fortnight at Park Newton, Lionel ran up to town. As a matter of course, his first visit was to Edith. His second was to Mr. Perrins. From the latter he ascertained that a copy of the codicil had been duly sent to Kester at Paris, but had not yet been acknowledged. Lionel’s next visit was to the Dodo Club, in Pall Mall, of which club he had ascertained that his cousin was a member. “Yes, Mr. St. George was in town—had been in town for some days,” said the hall porter, in answer to his inquiry. “Most likely he would look in at the club in the course of the afternoon or evening.” On the spur of the moment, Lionel sat down and wrote the following note, which he left at the Dodo for his cousin: “Dear Kester, I am in town and should much like to see you. Drop me a line saying when and where I can have the pleasure of calling.” A few hours afterwards he had the following answer: “Old fellow—Come and breakfast with me to-morrow. Eleven sharp. Shall be delighted to see you.” The address given was 28, Great Carrington Street, West, at the door of which house Lionel’s cab deposited him as the clock was striking eleven next morning. Kester St. George’s chambers were luxuriously fitted up. They seemed an appropriate home for a man of wealth and fashion. Kester, attired in a flowery dressing-robe, with a smoking-cap on his head, was lounging in slippered ease before a well-furnished breakfast table. While there was no one to see him, he looked careworn and gloomy. He held an open letter in one hand, the reading of which seemed to have been anything but a source of satisfaction to him. “Won’t wait more than another week, won’t he!” he muttered. “Not to be put off with any more of my fine promises, eh? If I were cleared out to-morrow, I couldn’t raise more than a bare two fifty—just an eighth of the two thousand Grimble says he must have out of me before seven days are over: and he means it this time. If I could only raise five hundred, that might satisfy him till I get a turn of luck. I wonder—as I’ve often wondered—whether Dering knows of that little secret down at Park Newton. How fortunate that he’s coming here this morning! I’ll pump him. If he knows nothing of it—why then, we shall see what we shall see. What with the diamonds and one thing or another, it ought to be good for five or six hundred at the very least. That must be Dering’s knock.” “Dear boy! so pleased to see you! so glad to find you have not forgotten me!” were Kester’s first words, accompanied by a hearty shake of the hand. All traces of gloom, and depression had vanished from his face. He looked as if he had not a care in the world. “I am not likely to forget you, Kester,” said Lionel. “I should have hunted you up weeks back, but I heard that you were in Paris.” “So I was in Paris—only got here three days ago. What will you take, tea or coffee? I’ve something fresh here in potted meats that I can strongly recommend.”