"Safe?" she said scornfully. "Safe? Yes, it is my secret. You asked for mercy. I give it you, for the sake of all who are dear to me; and because, if he lives, my poor father would not prosecute the son of his old friend. There is your locket. Take it, and I pray Heaven we may never meet again. Crampton!" "Yes, Miss Maddy, Crampton--old Crampton, who held you in his arms when you were one hour old." "What are you doing here?" "Watching my master's interests--watching over you." "Then you have heard?" "Every word, my child." "You cursed spy!" cried Harry fiercely, as he seized the old man by the throat. "You've done enough, Master Harry Vine, enough to transport you, sir; and if he dies to send you to your death." "Crampton!" shrieked Madelaine, as Harry drew back trembling. "Be merciful, like you, my dear? No, I cannot." "Then you'll go and tell--" "What I've heard now, my dear? No; there is no need." "What do you mean?" "To watch over you, whether my poor master lives or dies. I know you! You'd forgive him if he asked." "Never! But, Crampton, it is our secret. He must go--to repent. Dear Crampton," she cried, throwing her arms about his neck, "you must be merciful too!" "Too late, my dear," said the old man sternly; "too late." He placed his arm round her and drew her to his breast, as if to defend her from Harry. "When I went home that night," he continued in a slow, solemn voice, "I felt that something was not right, and I came on here--in time to see--" "Oh!" cried Madelaine. "In time to see that shivering, guilty wretch flee from where he had struck my poor master down; and if I had been a young man and strong I could have killed him for his crime." "You saw him?" "Yes, my dear. No need for the locket to bear witness. I had my duty to do, and it is done." "Done?" "Yes; to punish him for his crime." "Crampton, what have you said? Harry! before it is too late!" "It is too late, my child. See here." He held out a scrap of reddish paper. "From the London police. I could not trust those bunglers here." Madelaine snatched the paper from his hand and read it. "Oh!" she moaned, and the paper dropped from her hand. Harry snatched it from the floor, read it, let it fall, and reeled against the table, whose edge he grasped. Madelaine struggled and freed herself from the old man's detaining arm. "Harry!" she panted--"it would be my father's wish--escape! There may yet be time." He leaned back against the table, gazing at her wildly, as if he did not grasp her words. Then he started as if stung by a sudden lash as old Crampton said: "I have done my duty. It is too late." Volume 2, Chapter VII. LESLIE MAKES A DECLARATION. "Where is Harry?" said George Vine that same evening, as he sat in his study, surrounded by his living specimens of natural history, and with the paper before him that he had vainly tried to fill.