One of Lucius Davoren’s first thoughts, after that interview with the house-agent, was of his sister Janet and of Geoffrey Hossack. The discovery, which lifted a load from his conscience, changed the aspect of Geoffrey’s fortunes. The man who had married Janet still lived, and whether the marriage were legal or not—a fact difficult of ascertainment in a life so full of double-dealing—Janet would doubtless count herself bound to him. She had told Lucius, when they met at Stillmington, that she did so consider herself; and he knew that calm proud nature too well not to know that she would be firm, whatever sorrow to herself were involved in such constancy. Lucius lost no time in writing to Geoffrey, at the Cosmopolitan, the only safe address for that nomadic gentleman. He knew that the people at the Cosmopolitan were generally acquainted with Mr. Hossack’s whereabouts, and had instructions to forward his letters. Lucius wrote briefly thus: ‘Dear Geoffrey,—The last week has been full of discoveries. I have seen Absalom Schanck, and learned from him that I am guiltless of that scoundrel’s blood—a surprise which has infinitely relieved my mind, but which has also given me new cause for uneasiness. To you, poor old Geoff, I fear it will be a disappointment to learn that Janet’s husband is still in the land of the living; but I hope that this knowledge may have a beneficial effect, and help to cure you of a foolish passion, which I told you from the first was hopeless. Would to heaven, for your sake and Janet’s, that it were otherwise! But Fate is stronger than man. And, after all, there are plenty of charming women in the world who would be proud to call Geoffrey Hossack husband. ‘I try to write lightly, but I am full of anxiety. This man’s existence means peril for those I love, and I know not what shape the danger may assume. Let me hear of you soon.—Ever yours, ‘LUCIUS DAVOREN.’