“Yes, sir, some splendid news—something that will astonish the world to-morrow,” continued the lawyer, as he dived into his bag, and fished therefrom a carefully folded sheet of foolscap. “Read that, Mr. Dering—read that carefully through,” he said, as he handed the paper in question to Lionel. “But, above all things, control your feelings.” Lionel took the paper, opened it, and read. Mr. Hoskyns, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, took a pinch of snuff slowly and artistically, staring across, meanwhile, very hard at Lionel. The paper ran as under:— “Be careful not to betray me by word or look. I am here to effect your escape. Follow my lead in everything, and show no surprise at anything that I may say or do. “T. B.” Despite all his efforts to the contrary, Lionel could not keep his face from changing colour during the reading of these words. “Very extraordinary, is it not,” said the lawyer, as he took back the paper, “that this evidence should not have been forthcoming till the very last moment?” “Very extraordinary, indeed,” said Lionel, gravely. He could hardly believe the evidence of his senses. The voice, the features, the hair, the whiskers, the dress, the snuff-box, and the pocket-handkerchief, were all part and parcel of the genuine Hoskyns; but when he looked intently through the gold-rimmed spectacles, he saw there the eyes—not to be mistaken for the eyes of any other man—of his faithful friend, Tom Bristow. “I have shown the paper to Tressil,” said Tom, still keeping up his assumed character, for it is hardly necessary to observe that Creede was not in the secret, “and he is quite agreed with me as to its vital importance. In fact it is at his request that I have come here to-night. There will be two or three telegrams to send off, and at least a couple of witnesses to hunt up, and all before the court opens in the morning. But before going into these details, I mean to drink your health—yes, sir, to drink your very good health, and to the happy acquittal which is sure to be yours in a few hours from the present time.” “I am much obliged to you, my dear Hoskyns,” said Lionel, “but I’m afraid that my means of hospitality at present are limited to a copious supply of cold water.” “I’ve provided for that contingency, my dear sir, by bringing with me a bottle of prime old Burgundy from my own cellar,” and he produced from his bag a tempting-looking black bottle with the cork already half-drawn. “And now for a wineglass.” “I’ve nothing better to offer you than a tea-cup.” “Under the circumstances we will make shift with the tea-cup.” It was handed to him by Lionel. “The tea-cup turns out to be a coffee-cup,” said Tom. With that, he went down on one knee, drew the cork, half filled the cup with wine, and then offered it to Lionel. “Not till you and Creede have both drunk to my health and acquittal,” said the latter.