Mr. Grahame was then where no missive or threat of Mr. Chewkle could reach him. Mr. Chewkle hoped against hope until the last moment; then he determined to give up Mr. Grahame’s name, and request of the authorities that that gentleman might be taken into custody. He did so on the morning of the examination, and was then informed that Mr. Grahame was dead, and also that the contents of his notes had been carefully perused before they had quitted the prison-doors. Chewkle listened to this announcement with a spasm of agony. His future was before him--penal servitude for life, without a hope of escape. So, when he appeared at the dock with haggard face, bloodshot eyes, shaggy brows, and stubbly beard, people in court shrunk back, and believed him quite capable of the crime with which he was charged. The examination extended to no great length. Mr. Wilton, who acted the patrician with consummate art, gave his evidence in a somewhat stately and rambling manner; but Vivian, whose looks realised all the expectations of the fair owners of the many bright eyes turned upon him, recounted his share in the transaction with a clear conciseness and a modesty which elicited encomium from the counsel for the prosecution, and a compliment from the magistrates. Other evidence was produced; and Mr. Chewkle--who, under the advice of his solicitor, said nothing, and nothing exculpatory had he to say--was fully committed for trial at the next assizes, which, however, were not due for some two or three months to come. Mr. Chewkle was, therefore, consigned to gaol to await that period; and Mr. Wilton, attended by his son and Lester Vane, returned back to Harleydale Hall. They did not encounter Mr. Vivian. He was nowhere to be seen--though Mark had looked for him, and Lester Vane too--until he was called upon to give his evidence, then he suddenly rose up in the vicinity of the witness-box, as if by magic, performed the duty required of him, and retired, to be no more visible to the eyes which searched for him that day. All the way from Harleydale to the Town Hall, Mr. Wilton had been mentally occupied by him. He considered himself slighted--he, so wealthy, holding now such a position--he should be at least deputy-lieutenant for his county before long--and for this Vivian, this boy, not to appear before him and express---well, Mr. Wilton could not define what sentiments Hal ought to have delivered himself of; he rested with feelings irritated and annoyed at his absence. He let his feelings at last betray themselves. Mark looked at him with surprise. “What, sir!” he said, curtly, “did you expect Mr. Vivian to hunt you out to present himself to you, hat in hand, and thank you for the honour of having been permitted to save your life, and Flora from worse than death.”’ “Ahem! Mark, you presume!” rejoined his father, fiercely. Mark made no reply; and the rest of the journey home was made in silence.