After a short conversation, and a promise soon to revisit the now happy family, Mr. Forester, Mr. Fax, and Sir Oran Haut-ton resumed their walk. Mr. Forester, at parting, put, unobserved, into the hand of the little boy, a folded paper, telling him to give it to his father. It was a leaf which he had torn from his pocket-book; he had enclosed in it a bank-note, and had written on it with a pencil, ‘Do not refuse to a stranger the happiness of reflecting that he has, however tardily and slightly, co-operated with Miss Melincourt in a work of justice.’ CHAPTER XV THE LIBRARY Mr. Forester, Mr. Fax, and Sir Oran Haut-ton arrived at Melincourt Castle. They were shown into a parlour, where they were left alone a few minutes; when Mr. Hippy made his appearance, and recognising Sir Oran, shook hands with him very cordially. Mr. Forester produced the letter he had received from Mr. Ratstail, which Mr. Hippy having read, vented a string of invectives against the impudent rascal, and explained the mystery of the adventure, though he seemed to think it strange that Sir Oran could not have explained it himself. Mr. Forester shook his head significantly; and Mr. Hippy, affecting to understand the gesture, exclaimed, ‘Ah! poor gentleman!’ He then invited them to stay to dinner. ‘I won’t be refused,’ said he; ‘I am lord and master of this castle at present, and here you shall stay till to-morrow. Anthy will be delighted to see her friend here’ (bowing to Sir Oran, who returned it with great politeness), ‘and we will hold a council of war, how to deal with this pair of puppies, Lawrence Litigate, Esquire, and Richard Ratstail, Solicitor. I have several visitors here already: lords, baronets, and squires, all Corydons, sighing for Anthy; but it seems _Love’s Labour Lost_ with all of them. However, love and wine, you know! Anthy won’t give them the first, so I drench them with the second: there will be more bottles than hearts cracked in the business, for all Anthy’s beauty. _Men die and worms eat them_, as usual, _but not for love_. Mr. Forester inquired for Sir Telegraph Paxarett. ‘An excellent fellow after dinner!’ exclaimed Mr. Hippy. ‘I never see him in the morning; nor any one else, but my rascal, Harry Fell, and now and then Harry Killquick. The moment breakfast is over, one goes one way, and another another. Anthy locks herself up in the library.’ ‘Locks herself up in the library!’ said Mr. Fax: ‘a young lady, a beauty, and an heiress, in the nineteenth century, think of cultivating her understanding!’ ‘Strange, but true,’ said Mr. Hippy; ‘and here am I, a poor invalid, left alone all the morning to prowl about the castle like a ghost; that is, when I am well enough to move, which is not always the case. But the library is opened at four, and the party assembles there before dinner; and as it is now about the time, come with me, and I will introduce you.’