"Pray don't let me interrupt you," said Stephen, genially, "or I shall feel like an intruder, and walk off again. Jack, go on with your music, my dear fellow." But Jack declined promptly, though politely. "I'm afraid I must be off," he said, looking at his watch, and then at Una, wistfully. "Not yet," said Stephen. "I have a whole budget of news to tell you. I dare say you wonder why I haven't been up before this; but there was so much to do--a surprising deal." Jack nodded curtly. He certainly didn't want to finish up this particular evening by hearing Stephen's talk of the Hurst. "No doubt," he said. "You must come and dine with me and tell me. Good-night, Mrs. Davenant!" Mrs. Davenant gave him her hand. "Must you go, Jack?" she said, tremulously. "You--you will come again?" "Most certainly I will," said Jack, significantly. Una had risen and gone to the piano to gather up the music which Jack, with his usual untidiness, had scattered about. He followed her, and knelt down as if to help her. "Good-night, my darling!" he murmured, touching her arm caressingly. "Don't be afraid." Una raised her arm and touched it with her lips. "Afraid--of whom?" "Of--nobody!" said Jack, rather ungrammatically. "Not of Mr. Davenant, who has been so kind?" she whispered, with a surprised look. Jack bit his lip. "No, no; certainly not. Oh, yes, he has been kind." Then with a long, loving look into her sweet face he crossed the room. "Good-night, Stephen." "You are really going? Well, then, I'll go with you," said Stephen. "Mother will not mind my running away tonight, I am rather tired." And he stooped and kissed her, and went to the door. It almost seemed as if he had forgotten Una; but he turned suddenly and held out his hand, a bland, benevolent smile on his pale face. "Good-night, good-night," he murmured, softly, and followed after Jack, who, the moment he reached the pavement, looked out for a hansom; but Stephen linked his arm in Jack's, and said: "Are you in a hurry, my dear Jack? If not, I'll walk a little way with you; or will you come toward my rooms?" Jack consented to the latter course, by turning in the direction of the "Albany" in silence. He felt that Stephen was playing a part--why or wherefore he could not guess--and now that he had recovered from his surprise at Stephen's sudden appearance, his old mistrust and dislike were returning to him. They walked on in silence for some few moments, then Stephen said: "I wanted to have a few words with you, my dear Jack. I should have written, but I felt that I could make myself understood better by word of mouth." Jack nodded. "Of course, what I have to say concerns my poor uncle's death and its consequences." Jack was silent still. He would not help him in the slightest. "I cannot but feel that those consequences, while they have been distinctly beneficial to me, have--and to put it plainly, and I wish to speak plainly, my dear Jack--have been unfortunate for you."