"I've kept this matter to myself till now," continued Obed; "but I do not intend to keep it from you any longer. I've spoken to sister about it, and she thinks that you'd better know it. At any rate," he added, "it isn't as bad as some things you've borne; only it comes on top of the rest, and seems to make them worse." Zillah said not a word, but stood awaiting in fear this new blow. "Your draft," said Obed, "has been returned." "My draft returned?" said Zillah, in astonishment. "What do you mean?" "I will tell you all I know," said Obed. "There is villainy at the bottom of this, as you will see. Your draft came back about ten days ago. I said nothing to you about it, but took it upon myself to write for explanations. Last evening I received this"--and he drew a letter from his pocket. "I've meditated over it, and shown it to my sister, and we both think that there are depths to this dark plot against you which none of us as yet have even begun to fathom. I've also forwarded an account of this and a copy of this letter to the police at Marseilles, and to the police here, to assist them in their investigations. I'm afraid the police here won't do much, they're so upset by their panic about Garibaldi." As Obed ended he handed the letter to Zillah, who opened it without a word, and read as follows: "LONDON, September 10, 1859. "SIR,--In answer to your favor of 7th instant, we beg leave to state that up to the 15th of June last we held stock and deposits from Miss Ella Lorton--i. e., consols, thirty thousand pounds (£30,000); also cash, twelve hundred and seventy-five pounds ten shillings (£1275 10s.). On the 15th of June last the above-mentioned Miss Ella Lorton appeared in person, and, with her own check, drew out the cash balance. On the 17th June she came in person and withdrew the stock, in consols, which she had deposited with us, amounting to thirty thousand pounds (£30,000) as aforesaid. That it was Miss Ella Lorton herself there is no doubt; for it was the same lady who deposited the funds, and who has sent checks to us from time to time. The party you speak of, who sent the check from Naples, must be an impostor, and we recommend you to hand her over to the police. "We have the honor to be, Sir, your most obedient servants, TILTON AND BROWNE. "OBED CHUTE, Esq." On reading this Zillah fell back into a chair as though she had been shot, and sat looking at this fatal sheet with wild eyes and haggard face. Obed made an effort to cry for help, but it sounded like a groan. His sister came running in, and seeing Zillah's condition, she took her in her arms. "Poor child! poor sweet child!" she cried. [Illustration: "His Sister, Seeing Zillah's Condition, Took Her In Her Arms."] "It's too much! It's too much! She will die if this goes on."