“Oh, my ’evens! if it isn’t the ’onerbbel Mr. Lester Wane! Grashus! Is it the wine ’es overcom ’im, I wonder?” “No,” said one of the servants, “he’s got a hugly bump on his forrid; a precious whack that! Somebody about here must ha’ given it him.” “Some owdashus thief, no doubt,” suggested Whelks, with a swift glance over his left shoulder at the clump of trees, and a shudder which lifted his scalp, and pained him in the heels. “Jackson,” he added, quickly to the man who had just spoken, “you ’elp me to carry Mr. Lester Wane’s corpse--if he is a corpse--into the ’ouse, and you, Cussinks,” he continued, addressing the other servant, “you dash into that clump o’ trees, and ’unt about for the beggler.” Whelks and Jackson hurried on with their burden, and “Cussinks,” declining the verb to search proposed by Whelks, sallied out for that gallant official, the policeman, who is supposed to know no fear, and to be ever ready to seize the most ferocious ruffian in existence with the same promptness with which he would attack cold mutton down a deep area. By the time the house was gained by this little party, Mr. Grahame had been alarmed. With his son Malcolm and the Duke of St. Allborne he was hastening to the garden, when he encountered Whelks and Jackson bearing the body of Lester Vane. Almost at the same moment, the injured young man aroused from the stupor into which the blow he had received had flung him, recovered his feet, and gazed round him with an astonished air. He looked into the many eager faces bent upon his own, without recognising any of them. The Duke of St. Allborne laid his hand upon his shoulder, and shook him, saying, at the same moment-- “Vane, wecovaw youawself, my good fellah. We aw all fwiends. I’m St. Allborne--don’t you wecog-nise me?” The sound of his voice brought back the absent recollection of Lester Vane. He put his hand over his eyes, as though to collect his thoughts, and then he exclaimed hastily-- “I remember all now--all, distinctly, clearly.” He looked up, and addressing Mr. Grahame, he said--“My dear sir, if you will allow me to retire for a few minutes to collect myself, I will join you with the ladies in the drawing-room, where I will relate to you the strange incident in which I have, I believe, borne the worst part.” “But, Mr. Vane,” responded Mr. Grahame quickly, “the attack you have suffered”---- “Was made by no common individual, Mr. Grahame! one who is by this time, I have no doubt, far beyond pursuit.” “But the object, Mr. Vane?” observed Mr. Grahame, with an air of mystified wonder. “Neither plunder nor violence,” returned Lester Vane, adding hastily--“Pray interrogate me no further now. A few minutes hence, and I will relate all that occurred. I beg now to be allowed to retire to my room.” Mr. Grahame bowed, and directed Whelks to show Mr. Vane to his chamber, while he, with the Duke and Malcolm, his son, took their way to the drawing-room, talking over the mysterious event.