"You're sharp, too, Mr. Dagle," said Moss; "but Mr. Newcombe's here; you don't want two cups and saucers, and two plates, you know, for your breakfast, eh?" "Get out!" said Len, who, when he was roused was, like most quiet men, rather hot-headed. "Get out! and, by the way, if you meet Mr. Newcombe, I'd advise you to keep clear of him; he's back from America and carries two revolvers and a bowie knife, and I needn't tell you, who know him so well, that he'd as soon put a bullet through your head or stick the knife in between your ribs as look at you--far rather, perhaps." Moss turned pale. "I hope Mr. Jack won't do anything rash." "I won't answer for him. They don't think much of killing your sort of people on the other side, Moss. Get out," and Mr. Moss shuffled out; Leonard bolting the door after him. Jack came in and sat down quietly and gravely. "I've frightened him," said Leonard, smiling. "He'll keep clear of you for a day or two. But how did he know you were back? He couldn't have been keeping watch for all these months." "I don't know; someone must have seen me, and told him; I don't know who, Len. I'm going out." "Now, Jack?" said Leonard, fearfully. Jack smiled. "No, Len; I won't cut it again without telling you and saying 'good-by.' I'm only going for a walk; and I'll be back to dinner." Leonard looked after him, still rather anxiously; there was a look of determination on the pale, thoughtful face which alarmed him. Jack walked to Regent street--please mark that he didn't call a hansom; though Len had pressed some money upon him--and then into Piccadilly, and still with the thoughtful look of determination on his face, into Park Lane, and ascended the steps of Lady Bell's villa. A footman, who knew not Jack, opened the door, and Jack, who had not any cards, gave his name, which the footman gave to Lady Bell's maid as "Mr. Bluecut." Jack walked into the drawing-room, every article of which was familiar to him; and sat down in the chair which he had so often drawn close to Lady Bell's, only a few months back; and yet how long, long ago it seemed. Presently the door opened, and Lady Bell came in. He saw her in the glass before she saw him. Tastefully and simply dressed, she looked, if anything, more beautiful than ever, but not so bright and restless; Jack noticed that. There was an undefinable change about her, just as if she had gone through some trouble, or had done battle with some grief. Suddenly she looked round and saw him, and stopped; one hand holding a chair, her face going from white to crimson. Jack rose. "I've startled you; I'm very sorry." Lady Bell recovered herself, and went to him with outstretched hand and a look in her dark eyes that she tried to keep out of them. "Jack," she said, almost involuntarily. "Yes, it's I; like the bad penny, back again, Lady Bell." And he sat down and laughed. She sank into a chair beside him, and looked at his careworn face.