’Stay one moment,’ said young Sampson. ’Ladies, you must hear the truth at once. Miss Strange is my cousin. My father is her guardian. She shall not remain in this house any longer. I will take her away with me to Launceston, where my mother and sister will receive her. I have just read her father’s will. It is all right, ain’t it, Mr. Battishill? Besides, this house is not likely to be able to afford her hospitality and shelter any more. Is it not so, Mr. Battishill? So pack up your duds, missie, and be ready to start to-morrow. I will bring a chaise out of Okehampton.’ ’I am not going with you,’ answered Mirelle, coldly, and without looking at him. ’Oh, ain’t you, though? I am your cousin, Miss Strange, and am come to fetch you away.’ ’I know nothing about you,’ said Mirelle with perfect composure. ’You are not my cousin. I am not Miss Strange. I am the Countess Mirelle Garcia de Cantalejo.’ ’You have had your answer,’ said Herring to the young man. Then, turning to the ladies, ’Now, Countess, and you, Miss Battishill, I must ask to withdraw. I want a word myself with this—person.’ Cicely smiled at him, and drew Mirelle away. Herring watched them depart, but his eyes were upon Mirelle, not Cicely. Then, going to the table, he drew a cheque book from his pocket, and wrote on it an order for sixty pounds, payable to Mr. Battishill. ’Will you kindly endorse this, sir?’ he asked of the old gentleman. Mr. Battishill, hardly comprehending his purpose, complied. ’Now,’ said Herring to young Sampson Tramplara, ’take this, and write out at once a receipt to Mr. Battishill.’ ’I refuse it,’ said Sampson, sullenly. ’How am I to know that you have so much money in the bank, and how do I know that your cheque will not be dishonoured?’ Herring pointed to the little black ruler. ’You will sign the receipt at once, or I will break this ruler across your head.’ Tramplara made no further remonstrance. With a hand that shook partly with anger and partly with fear, he complied. ’Very well,’ said Herring, ’now go. Pick up your hat, it is in the corner, and take yourself off.’ Tramplara sulkily obeyed. When he reached the door he turned, his face white, his hands quivering with passion. ’The time will come, Mr. Herring, when it will be in my power to repay you this, and then, by God, I swear——’ ’What do you swear?’ Herring held up the black ruler. Tramplara shut the door, and was gone. *CHAPTER VIII.* *CICELY.* When John Herring turned to look at Mr. Battishill, he found the old gentleman fallen back in his chair, his face distorted, and scarcely conscious. He saw at once what had happened. The excitement had brought on a stroke. Herring went into the kitchen and called the maid.