"On Friday-and to-day is Saturday; just a week. I shan't trust you in the matter, Mr. Butler," said Sir Charles, taking up a letter lying on the table. "I shall adopt that precaution which you yourself suggested. A friend of mine, coming through from Scotland, will be in Liverpool on Wednesday night. Yes," he added, referring to the letter, "Wednesday night. I'll ask him to stop there a day, to take your ticket and to see you sail; and with the ticket he shall give you twenty pounds." Mr. Effingham was delighted; he had succeeded better even than he had hoped, and he commenced pouring out his thanks. But Sir Charles cut him very short, saying: "You will ask for Captain Bligh at the Adelphi Hotel; and recollect, Mr. Butler, this is the last transaction between us;" and he left the room. "For the present, dear sir," said Mr. Effingham, taking up his hat; "the last transaction for the present; but if our little New York expedition turns up trumps, you and I will meet again on a different footing." On the Friday morning Mr. Effingham sailed from Liverpool for New York in the fast screw-steamer Pocahontas, his ticket having been taken and the twenty pounds paid to him on board by Captain Bligh, who stood by leaning against a capstan while the vessel cleared out of dock. CHAPTER XXV. A CRISIS AT REDMOOR. When Mrs. Hammond left the dinner-table on the evening destined to add a new sorrow to Georgie Mitford's sorely-troubled lot, she really had gone, as she had announced her intention of going, to her husband's room. The old man was lying in his bed, propped up with pillows, his face turned to the large window, through which the rays of the moon were shining, and mingling in a cold and ghastly manner with the light in the room. The invalid had a fancy for seeing the dark clumps of trees on the rising grounds, and the cold moon shining over their heads. Gifford, his confidential servant, sat at the bed's head, and had been reading to his master. Mrs. Hammond asked him several questions in a tone of interest which sounded almost genuine as to how Mr. Hammond had been; and then saying she meant to remain with the invalid for a while, she dismissed him, and took her seat by the window, in a position enabling her to see quite distinctly a portion of the broad carriage-drive to the right of the entrance, across which the rays of the moon flung their uninterrupted radiance. Laura did not exert herself much for the amusement of the invalid. The few questions he asked her she answered listlessly, then sunk into silence. After a short time her stepdaughter came softly into the room to bid her father goodnight. "You are rather late, Alice; where have you been?" said Laura, without turning her head towards the child, still looking fixedly at the patch of ground in the moonlight. "With Lady Mitford, mamma," answered Alice. "Have the gentlemen left the dining-room?"