The old Italian parted with his companion at the door of the hotel where Lionel himself was lodged; there the Englishman in the cloak and cap lingered to make an appointment. “At eleven to-morrow,” said again that sharp hissing voice. Lionel stepped aside into the shadow as the stranger turned reluctantly away; he did not care for making further investigations to ascertain _his_ identity--it was Lord Winterbourne. He took the necessary steps immediately. It was easy to find out where the Italian was, in a little room at the top of the house, the key of which he paused to take down before he went up-stairs. Lionel waited again till the old man had made his way to his lofty lodging. He was very well acquainted with all the details of Louis’s case; he had, in fact, seen Charlie Atheling a few days before he left London, and satisfied himself of the nature of his young kinsman’s claim--it was too important to himself to be forgotten. He remembered perfectly the Italian doctor Serrano who had been present, and could testify to the marriage of the late Lord Winterbourne. Lionel scaled the great staircase half-a-dozen steps at a time, and reached the door immediately after the old man had entered, and before he had struck his light. The Rector knocked softly. With visible perturbation, and in a sharp tone of self-defence, the Italian called out in a very good French to know who was there. Dr Serrano was a patriot and a plotter, and used to domiciliary visitations. Lionel answered him in English, asked if he were Doctor Serrano, and announced himself as a friend of Charles Atheling. Then the door opened slowly, and with some jealousy. Lionel passed into the room without waiting for an invitation. “You are going to England on a matter of the greatest importance,” said the Rector, with excitement--“to restore the son of your friend to his inheritance; yet I find you, with the serpent at your ear, listening to Lord Winterbourne.” The Italian started back in amaze. “Are you the devil?” said Doctor Serrano, with a comical perturbation. “No; instead of that, you have just left him,” said Lionel; “but I am a friend, and know all. This man persuades you not to go on--by accident I caught the sound of his voice saying so. He has the most direct personal interest in the case; it is ruin and disgrace to him. Your testimony may be of the greatest importance--why do you linger? why do you listen to him?” “Really, you are hot-headed; it is so with youth,” said Doctor Serrano, “when we will move heaven and earth for one friend. He tells me the child is dead--that this is another. I know not--it may be true.”