And Trace proceeded to give them. Irby was a great friend of his, and there were no other ears in view. Loftus drew himself up against the pillar, and stood there with his arms folded, listening in silence; all of them unconscious that Mr. Henry was on the other side of the pillar, taking a sketch of the quadrangle and the door of the chapel. You heard something of the tale, reader, from Mr. Jebb last night, and there's not much more to be told. Trace, speaking quietly, as he always did, enlarged upon the wrongs dealt out to his father and Mr. Loftus, by the man Paradyne. It was the most miserable business that ever came out to the world, he said, blighting all their prospects for life; never a rogue, so great, went unhung. "And he had only been with them a couple of years," he wound up with; "only a couple of years! The marvel was, that he could have done so much mischief in so short a time—" "The marvel was, that he could have done it at all without being detected," interposed Loftus, speaking for the first time. "Yes," corrected Trace; "people could not understand how he contrived to hoodwink my father. But that came of over-confidence: he had such blind trust in Paradyne." "Why did they take him in partner at all?" asked Irby. "Ah, why indeed!" responded Trace, pushing his trencher up with a petulant jerk, as if the past transaction were a present and personal wrong. "But the business had grown too large for one head, and Mr. Loftus was almost a sleeping partner. Who was to suppose it would turn out so? If we could only foresee the end of things at the beginning!" "Let it drop, Trace," said Loftus. "It's not so pleasant a thing to recall." "The fellow called himself Captain Paradyne; he came introduced to them grandly," resumed Trace, in utter disregard of the interruption. "Of course he dropped the 'Captain' when he joined them." "Was the man hung?" questioned Irby. "Neither hung nor transported; he saved himself. On the evening of his first examination before the magistrates," continued Trace, "after he was put back in the cell, he took poison." Irby's eyes grew round with awe. "What a wicked simpleton he must have been to do that! Poor fellow, though," he added, a feeling of compassion stealing over him, "I dare say he—" "When you undertake to relate a history, gentlemen, you should confine yourselves to the truth. Mr. Paradyne did not take poison. He died of heart disease, brought on by excitement." The interruption was Mr. Henry's. He quietly put his head round the pillar, and then came into full view, with his sketch-book and pencil. "How do you know anything about it?" demanded Trace, recovering from his surprise. "I do happen to know about it," was the calm answer. "The case was bad enough, as Heaven knew; but you need not make it worse." "It was reported that he took poison," persisted Trace.