Left alone, Philip remained for some moments struggling with his wrath and agony. He then seized his hat, which he had thrown off on entering--pressed it over his brows--turned to quit the shop--when his eye fell upon the till. Plaskwith had left it open, and the gleam of the coin struck his gaze--that deadly smile of the arch tempter. Intellect, reason, conscience--all, in that instant, were confusion and chaos. He cast a hurried glance round the solitary and darkening room--plunged his hand into the drawer, clutched he knew not what--silver or gold, as it came uppermost--and burst into a loud and bitter laugh. The laugh itself startled him--it did not sound like his own. His face fell, and his knees knocked together--his hair bristled--he felt as if the very fiend had uttered that yell of joy over a fallen soul. “No--no--no!” he muttered; “no, my mother,--not even for thee!” And, dashing the money to the ground, he fled, like a maniac, from the house. At a later hour that same evening, Mr. Robert Beaufort returned from his country mansion to Berkeley Square. He found his wife very uneasy and nervous about the non-appearance of their only son. Arthur had sent home his groom and horses about seven o’clock, with a hurried scroll, written in pencil on a blank page torn from his pocket-book, and containing only these words,-- “Don’t wait dinner for me--I may not be home for some hours. I have met with a melancholy adventure. You will approve what I have done when we meet.” This note a little perplexed Mr. Beaufort; but, as he was very hungry, he turned a deaf ear both to his wife’s conjectures and his own surmises, till he had refreshed himself; and then he sent for the groom, and learned that, after the accident to the blind man, Mr. Arthur had been left at a hosier’s in H----. This seemed to him extremely mysterious; and, as hour after hour passed away, and still Arthur came not, he began to imbibe his wife’s fears, which were now wound up almost to hysterics; and just at midnight he ordered his carriage, and taking with him the groom as a guide, set off to the suburban region. Mrs. Beaufort had wished to accompany him; but the husband observing that young men would be young men, and that there might possibly be a lady in the case, Mrs. Beaufort, after a pause of thought, passively agreed that, all things considered, she had better remain at home. No lady of proper decorum likes to run the risk of finding herself in a false position. Mr. Beaufort accordingly set out alone. Easy was the carriage--swift were the steeds--and luxuriously the wealthy man was whirled along. Not a suspicion of the true cause of Arthur’s detention crossed him; but he thought of the snares of London--or artful females in distress; “a melancholy adventure” generally implies love for the adventure, and money for the melancholy; and Arthur was young--generous--with a heart and a pocket equally open to imposition.