This first interview between Mr. Perrins and Tom took place during the time that Lionel was lying perdu at Pincote. Not till he had fully satisfied himself as to the lawyer’s identity, and had consulted with Lionel, would Tom say a word either one way or another. So Mr. Perrins stayed all night in Duxley, and saw Tom the following morning; but, even then, the information which he took back with him for the behoof of General St. George was of the scantiest. Still, as far as it went, it was eminently satisfactory. Lionel was well and safe. He sent his love and regards to his uncle, and begged of him to wait a little while longer and then everything should be told him. The General had not long to wait. Within a fortnight of the time that Mr. Perrins had communicated to him the result of his mission, Mr. Tom Bristow was ushered into the sitting-room of his hotel in Paris. Tom was the bearer of a letter of introduction from Lionel, which spoke of him and his services in such terms that the old soldier’s heart warmed to him in a moment. Then Tom told him everything: the story of the murder; the imprisonment; the marriage; the trial and the escape; and finished by telling him how Lionel, under the name of the Rev. Horace Brown, was at that moment hidden safely away among the Cumberland hills. The old soldier listened to the narrative in open-mouthed wonder. To him it was like a story out of the “Arabian Nights”—a veritable chapter of romance. He thanked Tom Bristow over and over again, in his warm-hearted, impulsive way, for the services he had rendered his dear boy. “But we have now to consider the future,” said Tom, when he had brought his narrative up to date. “Ay; just so. But what about the future?” asked General St. George, with a puzzled look. “Simply this,” answered Tom. “As matters stand at present, Dering’s life is one of perpetual dread and uncertainty. He never feels sure from day to day that before nightfall his hiding-place may not be discovered, or his disguise penetrated, and he himself taken into custody as an escaped murderer. Such a life, in time, would become utterly unbearable—would, in fact, be enough to drive a man insane, or to give himself up to the police in utter despair.” “I see it all. Poor boy! poor boy!” “It would, therefore, seem that in order to escape so wretched a fate, only one course is left open to Dering: and that is, to put the width of the ocean between himself and his pursuers. The width of half a world if possible.” “I should go with him wherever he went,” said the General, with a tear in the corner of his eye. “I could not bear to let him go again.”