"Zo! dis letter, and oders, was received by Madame la Comtesse de Vaudrey—dat is, Mary Berkeley—when her husband was absent from Paris. He return; de poor lady is dying; she leave a little boy. He write to Eustace from Paris; he get no reply; he write again, dree times in all; still no reply, and he dink his wife’s friends English and care not any more. As for him, he has pride and keep silence, and believe Eustace Berkeley is now lord of Winton Hall. "Zo time pass. Den come trouble to de Huguenots in France, and de Comte de Vaudrey take refuge wid his son in Holland. He read no English; but he keep dings dat belong to his wife, among dem de letters of Eustace. His son Louis marry in Holland a Huguenot lady. Fader, son, both are dead, but"—he wagged his forefinger impressively—"but Louis Comte de Vaudrey leave a daughter, Adèle, and it is on behalf of Mademoiselle Adèle de Vaudrey I wait upon you to-day. I know well dese dings are not new to you; I know dat. It is now some years when Captain Aglionby—an adventurer, a cut-droat—discover how Mademoiselle Adèle is related to de house of Berkeley. Already he know someding of you; he have an uncle Minshull dat live on your estate. He see a chance to feader his very bare nest, and he take it. You are de squire, he dink; a rich man; you will pay well to keep de secret. He come to you; you do pay well; you become his generous patron, and he do your dirty work. But sometimes you lose temper, and give him hard words and close your purse. Perhaps, dink he, he may find yet anoder rich man who will buy de secret. Such a man is Monsieur de Polignac. Your Aglionby take money from you, and bargain wid Polignac to get more money when he become by marriage owner of dis estate and turn you out. But de plan is found out; we have settle with Polignac; he is dead; we search for Aglionby; he hide himself; and now, Mr. Berkeley, it is your turn. I come to you to demand, on behalf of Mademoiselle Adèle de Vaudrey, possession of her property in seven days from dis present day. My friend Mr. Tape of Lincoln’s Inn have copies of all de papers; he will show dem, at proper time, to your lawyer. De history is now at end, Mr. Berkeley. I dank you for your zo-patient hearing. It is now to you; zo!" Mr. Berkeley had spoken never a word. For a few moments he remained motionless in his chair; then, lengthening his arm, he pulled a bell-rope at his side. A servant entered. "Thomas," said the squire in his thin hard voice, "show these gentlemen to the door." Grootz and the lawyer glanced at each other. The latter gave a slight shrug and began to tie up his portfolio. Grootz rose. "I have de honour, Mr. Berkeley, to wish you good-day." And with his companion he left the room.