"And now you'll be so good as to have some luncheon with me," Mr. Fothergill continued. "I don't care what you say. I don't believe you've eaten anything to-day. Waiter, bring me those other cutlets I ordered and the game-pie, and--yes, I think we might venture on another bottle of wine." "Mr. Morton, you must join us. Clever animal of yours--that one outside," he rattled on lightly; "but I'd have her taken out for an hour, if I were you. It's too cold for her to be standing about. Shall I ring the ostler's bell and tell him? And then, if you will, you might drive me down to the station, when you're ready to go. My train leaves a little before five." Whatever my former opinion of Mr. Fothergill had been, I felt bound to change it now. He was showing tact, good-nature, and a decidedly gentlemanly spirit. I had, in truth, eaten very little lunch at Borden Tower and Cecil none at all; and we proceeded to make good the omission. When, an hour or two later, we left Mr. Fothergill at the station, we were both of one mind concerning him, and we had both promised to accept his cordial invitation to run up to town and see him before long. On our way home Cecil stopped at the "Rose and Crown," and went in to make his peace with Milly. I promised to call for him and went on to the photographer's up the street. Mr. Lawrence appeared at once from a back-room, which, I presume, was the studio, wiping his hands upon a not particularly clean-looking towel. I paid him in advance for a dozen photographs, promising to come in and have them taken next time I was in the town. Then I explained what was really the purport of my visit: Had he preserved the negative of the photograph which he had taken of Mr. Hart? Certainly he had, he assured me. I told him about the date and his head and shoulders disappeared into a cupboard. In a few minutes he withdrew them and called out sharply for his assistant. "Fenton," he exclaimed angrily, "you've been at this cupboard!" Fenton, who was a tall, ungainly lad of most unprepossessing appearance, shook his head. "I haven't been near it, sir!" he declared. Mr. Lawrence looked incredulous. "There is a negative missing!" he said sharply; "No one else could have meddled with it!" "I don't know anything about it," the boy answered doggedly. "Perhaps it's upstairs." Mr. Lawrence abandoned his search. "If you'll excuse me a moment, sir," he said, "I'll have a look among the old ones." I nodded and he closed the door and disappeared. Fenton would have gone, too, but I stopped him. "Look here!" I said quickly; "see this?" I held out a five-pound note. He opened his eyes wide and looked at it longingly. "Well, it's yours if you'll tell me what you've done with the negative of Mr. Hart's photograph. Quick!" He hesitated. "Should you split to the governor?" he asked. "No."